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AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 
ON THE ZAMBESI 



AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 
ON THE ZAMBESI 

BEING THE LIFE STOB.Y OF 

WILLIAM THOMSON ''^WADDELL 

LARGELY DRAWN FROM HIS 
LETTERS AND JOURN AL^^-^^C^Ji- 

JAN ;] 1912 

y BY ^^iGBim^ 

Rev. JOHN MacCONNACHIE, M.A. 

UDDINGSTON 

WITH INTRODUCTION BY C. W. MACKINTOSH, 
AUTHOR OF "COILLARD OF THE ZAMBESI" 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 
150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK 



PRINTFD IN EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND 



ISABELLA WADDELL 

THE SHARER OF A BROTHER'S CROSS 

AND 

THE LIGHT AND COMFORT OF HIS LIFE 

THROUGH TWELVE DARK YEARS 



INTRODUCTION 

It is a great pleasure to be allowed to prefix a few 
lines to William Waddell's life-story, which Mr. 
MacConnachie has written so graphically and sym- 
pathetically. My dear uncle and aunt, M. and Mme. 
Coillard, felt the warmest affection for him, and the 
warmest gratitude also, knowing that, humanly speak- 
ing, it was his mechanical skill which had captivated 
the material minds of the Barotsi rulers, and had 
thus secured not only an open door, but a permanent 
footing for the Mission in their midst. The apostle's 
word, "/ atn made all thitigs to all men . . . that I 
might by any means gain some," must even to-day 
be the guiding principle of Mission work, and in 
Africa industrial missions seem to be the most 
suitable and acceptable. Herein, however, lurks a 
great danger; many people, both black and white, 
would like a policy of " industry " without the 
" Mission." The mighty civilisations of the past, 
all crumbled to dust, bear witness to the end of this 
so-called " Gospel of Labour." " llion hast praised 
the gods of silver and gold, brass and iron, wood and 
stone, . . . and the God in zvhose hand thy breath is, 
and whose are all thy xvays, hast thou not glorified!' 

It needs something more than improvement of 
material conditions to raise the heathen, and Waddell's 



INTRODUCTION vii 

great aptitude for the work to which he was called 
lay just in this, the entire simplicity of heart and 
mind which looked on everything with a single eye 
to God's glory, and sought to display that glory to 
these poor ignorant natives in the small matters that 
lay ready to his hand. For instance, when King 
Lewanika consulted him about boat-building, he at 
once referred him to the Divine pattern in creation ; 
showed him how the fish required a spine and ribs, 
and a boat must follow the same design. It was 
this same simplicity that made him a hero, and that 
with the most entire absence of self-consciousness. 
To kill twenty mad dogs in one season was all in 
the day's work. Cheerfully, without a hint or a 
suggestion from outside, he gave up the furlough 
that might (as we now see) have saved his career, 
in order to establish the work at the Capital, because 
he knew there was no one else to carry out the 
necessary building. And when he was called to his 
last fiery ordeal, he took it all in the same calm, 
almost matter-of-fact way, with no implied reproaches 
of God or man. 

I last saw him about three years before the end, 
and he spoke of the words which had finally led him 
to volunteer for the Zambesi, " I beseech you there- 
fore, by the mercies of God, that ye present your 
bodies a living sacrifice . . . which is your reasonable 
service." As he sat there, a man in the prime of life, 
crippled, helpless, blind, and suffering constant pain, 
an involuntary question sprang to one's lips, at the 
thought of what that living sacrifice had been. 



viii INTRODUCTION 

"Tell me, do you 7iever regret it?" He replied with 
unforgettable emphasis, "Never! Yes, and if it was 
to be done over again, knowing all that it was to cost, 
I would do it and count it an honour, for the sake of 
serving Christ." 

It was this patient continuance in well-doing that 
made his life such a beautiful example. Many 
artisan missionaries in Africa have given up their 
specially appointed task for the sake of preaching 
only. It is Waddell's special praise that he had the 
secret of evangelising through his work and by 
his life. His words on page 89 might well be 
the motto of every lay-helper : " How could the 
tabernacle have been built if the craftsmen had 
wanted to do Aaron's work ? But in a country like 
this . . . the craftsman would almost need to have 
the qualities of the priest." If this little book should 
help to send even one such craftsman to the mission 
field, it will not have been written in vain. 

C. W. MACKINTOSH. 



CONTENTS 



INTRODUCTION, 

CHAPTER 

I. EARLY YEARS, 

II. IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY, 

III. ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD, 

IV. THE ZAMBESI AT LAST, 
V. PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 

VI. ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA, 

VII. AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE, 

VIII. FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING, . 

IX. FRESH LABOURS, 

X. LAST DAYS AT LEALUI, 

XI. "they also serve who only 

WAIT," . 
XII. THE CLOSING YEARS, 



PAGE 


V 


II 


19 


30 


44 


I, . .58 


• 11 


90 


99 


no 


. 126 


1 STAND AND 


• 137 


. 150 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



WADDELL AND HIS BOYS, .... Frontispiece 

WADDELL IN 1 882, ...... 16 

MR. COILLARD AND HIS PARTY ON THE JOURNEY, . 36 

KING LE\VANIKA AND HIS BAND, . . . 80 

THE CHURCH AT SEFULA, . . . . .98 

"THE OXEN SPLITTING WOOD," . . .-.104 

A ROYAL BARGE, . . . . . . I20 

BUILDING THE CHURCH AT LEALUI, . . . I32 
MAP, 157 



AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 
ON THE ZAMBESI 

CHAPTER I 

EARLY YEARS 

ALL the world knows the heroic work that was 
done by Frangois Coillard, in opening up 
Central Africa to civilisation and the Gospel. But 
many have yet to learn how greatly he was helped, 
in the early years of pioneering in that deadly 
climate, by a young Scotch carpenter, who, though 
dying far from the scene of his labours, laid down his 
life as truly as did Coillard for his Master. 

The romantic story of how a lad, born in Lanark- 
shire, in Scotland, and the son of a farmer of Asnieres- 
les-Bourges, in France, were drawn together by their 
common love of Christ to preach the Gospel in the 
Barotsi Valley, the one by his lips, the other by his 
hands, it is the purpose of the following chapters to tell. 

William Thomson Waddell was born at Whifflet, 
near Coatbridge, on 31st March, 1858, but removed as a 
child to Duntocher on the Clyde, where his early years 
were spent. He grew up in a pious, God-fearing home. 
His father, David Waddell, who was over-ground 
manager with Messrs. Merry & Cuninghame, Coal and 
Iron Masters, in Garscadden, was a man of strong 
Christian character, a devoted member and office- 
bearer of the Free Church of Scotland, and a teacher 

II 



12 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

in the Sabbath School. From his mother, Janet 
Thomson, who had read widely as a girl the stories of 
the missionaries, especially of Moffat and Livingstone, 
and who loved in later years to repeat them to her 
children, he inherited his missionary enthusiasm. 

As a boy, William was very delicate and his school 
life much broken. This early weakness made him shy 
and timid, and extremely sensitive to the slightest 
harshness. " He did not mix with the general crowd 
of the village boys, or play our games," writes a younger 
contemporary,* "and I am afraid we had rather a 
barbaric way of dismissing such a timid boy." In 
mere book-learning he showed no special cleverness, 
but very early began to reveal those remarkable 
mechanical aptitudes which were later to be the wonder 
of the Barotsi, and to earn him the name on the 
Zambesi of Ganguro, " the man who knows all works." 
" If he was not the sharpest boy," writes this same 
early friend, "he always had the sharpest knife, and 
no one could point a pencil like Willie Waddell." 
The story is told that as a boy of ten he went to 
see the first reaping-machine that came to the district. 
The farmer was surveying his purchase somewhat 
ruefully, for it could not be got to work. " I think if 
you will take out that pin it will go all right," said 
William, after looking at it quietly for a few minutes, 
and the farmer's trouble was ended. In course of time 
his skill became quite famed, and when anything went 
wrong, be it reaper or sewing-machine, his ready help 
was called in. He fitted up a little workshop in his 
home, in which he spent many happy hours. Un- 
consciously he was preparing himself for his life-work. 
* Rev. Hugh Macluskie. 



EARLY YEARS 13 

Already also his mind was dwelling on deeper 
things. He had grown up like Timothy, loving good- 
ness from his mother's knee, but about the age of 
fifteen he underwent a spiritual experience which gave 
a new direction to his life. " I very well remember," 
writes another early friend,* " that about the year 1873, 
coming up from Duntocher Free Church, he told me 
of his conversion a few days previously. He said he 
had told his father and mother, and I daresay I was 
the next to learn from his own lips, that he had 
accepted the Lord Jesus as his own personal Saviour. 
* It is a grand thing to be a Christian,' he said." From 
this time the ambition possessed him to be a 
missionary, and Africa was from the first the land 
which fascinated him. But with his defective educa- 
tion and great diffidence as to any capacity for study, 
the way seemed meantime closed. His parents 
apprenticed him to the village joiner, with whom he 
gained a knowledge of all kinds of practical work, 
smithy work included. He could not have been put 
to a better school. After a time he went to complete 
his apprenticeship as a ship-joiner with the firm of 
James & George Thomson, Clydebank, walking back- 
wards and forwards the three miles every day. In the 
rough and tumble of the yard, his tender and sensitive 
nature suffered much. But of that moral courage 
which often accompanies natural timidity he had a 
full share. Suffer what he might in feeling, by taunt 
and jibe, he manfully stood up for his principles, 
and often, by a natural readiness of rejoinder 
which never failed him, was able to turn the 
tables on his tormentors. One day, as he was at 
* Mr. Daniel Ramsay. 



14 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

work, a blustering infidel came up to him with the 
question, " Waddell, where is God ? " "I will tell you 
a far more wonderful thing than that," he answered, 
"I will tell you where He is not." "Well, where?" 
said the man. " God is not in all the thoughts of the 
wicked." And the infidel turned on his heel without 
another word. 

His companions did what they could to get him 
to swear. One of them smashed before his eyes, 
as he thought, a little plane, which he had been mak- 
ing with great pains in his leisure hour, and waited 
for the expected outburst. All Waddell said was, 
" I did not think you would have done that to me," 
and the man, chagrined, took the plane from under 
his coat, having really smashed another. 

One other incident from those early days in the 
shipyard may be given. It is the custom for an 
apprentice at his " pay-off," that is, when he completes 
his time, to stand drinks to his mates all round. When 
it came to Waddell's turn he refused. They carried 
him forcibly into a public-house, but he persisted in 
his refusal. He offered however to stand them a 
good dinner, if they would consent to drink nothing 
but water. To this at last they agreed, and they went 
off together to Glasgow and spent a pleasant afternoon. 
All this goes to show that beneath that timid and 
gentle exterior there was even then a rare moral 
strength. In course of time his fellow-workmen came 
to recognise his worth. They carried their troubles 
to him as to one they could trust, and when later he 
left for Africa, they subscribed for him a handsome 
present. Still he suffered much, and gruff, unkind 
words that had been used to him in the shipyard 



EARLY YEARS 15 

tormented him even on the Zambesi, and rankled to 
the end of his life. 

After his apprenticeship was out, he experienced the 
usual vicissitudes of unemployment, times being dull, 
but found an opening at last with his old firm, who, 
recognising his fine craftsmanship, entrusted to him 
much of their finer work. All this time the desire to 
be a missionary burned on, but no path seemed to 
open. Meanwhile, he did what religious work he 
could ; from a very early age he taught in the Sabbath 
School, and there are some who still remember his 
power of enlisting the interest and affection of the 
children. But he felt that the only effective work he 
would ever be able to do for his Master must be with 
his hands. 

From Clydebank he went to Belfast and spent some 
time in the shipbuilding yard of Harland & Wolff. 
While there his eyes happened to alight on an 
advertisement for some joiners to go out to Bethlehem, 
in the Orange Free State, to the building of a new ' 
Dutch Reformed Church, for which a Scotchman 
named MacArthur had the contract. The pay was 
to be seventeen shillings a day. This seemed to be the 
very opening of a door to the land that from boyhood 
had fired his imagination. Once there, he would be 
nearer the fulfilment of his dream. He offered to go, 
and was accepted. His parents, fearing that he was 
being attracted by the money, were at first reluctant 
to let him go. "Willie," said his mother, "if it is for 
the money, I would rather that you did not go." 
" That is not my reason for going," was his answer, 
and all objection was withdrawn. Thus in a way, 
in which he afterwards saw the clear guidance of God, 



16 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

there was set before him an open door. Having 
bidden an affectionate farewell to his parents, 
one of whom he was never to see again, he 
took train to London, joined the s.s. Nubian at 
Southampton on 17th March, 1882, and sailed for 
Africa. 

On the voyage out he began to keep a journal, 
which he continued with more or less regularity to 
within a year of his leaving the country, sending 
it home to his parents in the form of letters. It 
lacks that personal note which gives chief piquancy 
to a diary, for he was modest, almost to morbidness ; 
it is mostly silent as to his deeper life, about which 
he always maintained a close reserve, but it is full of 
keen and shrewd observation of men and things, and 
affords us many interesting glimpses of his short but 
tragic career. 

One of his earliest entries shows that his mind was 
much with those he had left behind. " I enjoyed the 
sail, but my thoughts were so bent on them I had left 
at home, that it kept me from enjoying it to the full." 
Tenderest hearted of men, the well of his tears was 
never hard to reach. But as the voyage continued, 
he passed from under the cloud, and began to be 
deeply interested in his new surroundings. His fellow- 
tradesmen going out to Bethlehem had few of his 
interests, and he wearied greatly on his first Sabbath 
at sea because there was no religious service. His 
practical mind began to record each day the run of 
the ship. A flying visit to Madeira produced an 
excellent pen-sketch of the place, containing among 
others the laconic entry, " I never saw the match of 
Madeira for beggars." March 31st contains this entry, 




W. T. Waddell in 1882. 



EARLY YEARS • 17 

" My birthday ; I was twenty-four years old when on 
board the Nubian^ On i oth April Table Mountain was 
sighted, and the same day they steamed into Capetown, 
where he went ashore. The unpaved condition of 
the streets, the new graving-dock, the kind of 
stones of which it was being built, everything was 
noted. Nothing escaped his keen eyes. His 
first sight of the South African native also greatly 
interested him. 

Their point of disembarkment being Durban, they 
continued the voyage along the coast ; but he seems 
to have grown weary of doing nothing, for we find 
him at work with the ship carpenter. The heart of 
the Scot comes out in his note on Port Elizabeth : 
" The sun rose across the town, and it reminded me of 
some of our Clyde watering-places, such as Largs." 
We have a glimpse at East London of the passengers 
being lowered in a basket by winch into a steam- 
lighter in a rough sea. As they approach Port Natal, 
a hill covered with brushwood reminds him of 
Dumbarton Rock. 

On 22nd April he landed in the new country in 
rather low spirits, but at the sight of MacArthur, junr., 
who was waiting, took heart, and having signed his 
agreement before a magistrate in Durban, started by 
train for Pietermaritzburg, where the first Sunday in 
Africa was spent. The rest of the journey, which 
was made by horse conveyance, occupied ten days. 
They crossed the Tugela, passed through Colenso, 
outspanning each night, and sleeping in the open. A 
team of sixteen oxen took their waggon and luggage 
over the Drakensberg Mountains into the Orange 

Free State. Passing through Harrismith, they arrived 

2 



18 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

on 3rd May, 1882, at Bethlehem, where they were 
met by Mr. MacArthur, their new master, and 
two days later started work on the new Dutch 
Reformed Church. He had reached the land of his 
dreams. 



CHAPTER II 

IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 

BETHLEHEM was only some twenty years old, 
and numbered but eight to nine hundred of a 
white population. It was little more than a trading 
centre to which the Boers brought their farm produce, 
and gathered for the quarterly iVac/ilmaal (SaLcrameni), 
an event in a Dutch community similar to a Highland 
Communion. Waddell's life from the first was most 
unhappy. He found himself among a rough, drink- 
ing, swearing set, who had no sympathy with his 
ideals, and made sport of his piety. But he boldly 
showed his colours, joined the Wesleyan Church, and 
before a month was out, had been enrolled a teacher in 
the Sabbath School. The zeal with which he threw 
himself into the work is seen from his diary, which 
faithfully records each week the Sabbath School 
lesson. The minister of the church, a Mr. Winyan, 
who was later to prove a strange link in his life, 
became a true friend, and his weekly visit to the 
manse was one of the few bright spots in his other- 
wise dismal environment. With his missionary zeal 
always alive, he began to take an interest in the 
natives, and we find him at the opening of a church 
which they had built entirely at their own expense. 
He did not know their language, but he writes : 

19 



20 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

" Occasionally I go to hear the children sing. 
Though in a strange tongue, it is sweet, and reminds 
me of the hymn, ' Babes and sucklings, artless slaves, 
shall proclaim the Saviour's praise.' They are but 
babes, and need our sympathy, who have had so 
many privileges handed down to us from ages." 

Bethlehem lay on the road from Natal to Kimberley, 
and every now and then great crowds of Zulus passed 
to and from the diamond fields. These his master 
hired from time to time at very low wages, serving 
out Indian corn to them twice a day, and putting 
them up in a rough extemporised shelter against a 
wall. Waddell was thus brought early face to face 
with the native problem in its different forms. He 
was greatly shocked by the manner in which the 
natives were treated by both Boers and English. 
While by a few of the whites they were treated kindly, 
by many they were handled as animals. " It is true," 
he says, " that there are no slaves in South Africa, as 
we term slaves, but although they are hired, they are 
treated in many cases as such. When the master 
wants anything of his native servant, he calls out, 
' Kaffir, come here,' instead of calling him by name. 
The native does not like this any more than a dog 
does. But many times I have heard the master say 
to his servant, ' Get out, you dog ! ' " 

On the common complaint, heard to weariness in 
South Africa, that when the native learns English, 
and becomes Christian and civilised, he is no more 
good for anything, Waddell makes the shrewd 
comment : " The fact is, he is no more good for 
being the white man's slave." "Get hold of a man," 
he says, " who is a Christian in reality, and he will tell 



IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 21 

you that a native Christian makes by far the best 
servant, and when the master takes a human interest 
in him, becomes warmly attached to him, and looks 
well after his interests." Thus Waddell took up from 
the first the cudgels for the natives. The time was to 
come when they would return his love in full measure. 

The opening of the church at which he had been 
working, in the November of the same year, 
coinciding as it did with the quarterly Sacrament, and 
a review of the Burghers by the President of the 
Orange Free State, gave Waddell an opportunity of 
seeing something of Boer life which he did not fail to 
profit by. We cannot do better than transcribe a few 
passages from his lively journal : — 

" This is perhaps the greatest day that Bethlehem 
has seen. Boers are congregating from all parts of 
the state for the opening of the Dutch Reformed 
Church and the Nachtniaal. The English trader looks 
forward to this day as a harvest, as the Boers bring 
their whole families with them in tent waggons, Cape 
carts, or spiders. They display a great pride in 
their turnout. Each tent waggon is loaded with 
produce — wool, and such like — while the top part 
answers as a bedroom. A bed-bottom is placed above 
the stuff, made of hard native wood, with cords of 
raw hide interwoven across, which, with a skin or two 
and a blanket, makes a good bed. If the family is 
too large, a tent is pitched beside the waggon, and 
serves as a sitting-room by day and a bedroom by 
night. 

" At Sacrament time Bethlehem looks as if it were 
holding a fair. It is quite a sight to take a walk 
through the town and see the waggons and tents of 



22 AN ARTISAN MTSSTONARY 

the Boers, with their famih"es congregated together, 
some singing hymns or psalms, others in the height 
of business. The English trader, but more especially 
the German Jew, knows how to flatter the Boer and 
open the strings of his purse, by telling him how well 
his 'guid-wife' looks in her new dress. The canteens 
are also doing a good trade among those Boers and 
English who have come more for pleasure than 
spiritual food. One can hear from the outside the 
jabbering of the Dutchmen, talking about their oxen 
and waggons. A Scotch term day resembles this 
fair in some respects, but while our countrymen make 
fools of themselves by drink, here you see big young 
men going about blowing penny whistles like boys of 
six years old." 

His diary goes on to describe the opening of the 
new church. With much solemnity, the ruling elder, 
a good old Dutchman named Miiller, carried the 
books at the head of a procession from the old build- 
ing to the new, and a choir of over a hundred voices 
led the praise. A breeze arose over the discovery 
that some English youths had been included in the 
choir to help the singing, but Miiller pacified the mal- 
contents by telling them that there would be English 
to sing with them in heaven. The climax of the 
event was reached however, when President Brand 
drove in from Bloemfontein under a triumphal arch, 
in a Cape cart drawn by four horses, to review the 
Burghers. The review, which consisted of 300 Boers 
dressed in corduroys and mounted on little ambling 
horses, with two pieces of artillery, did not greatly 
impress him. 

The New Year holidays (1888) brought another 



IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 23 

welcome release from labour. One of the days was 
spent in a visit to a Boer farm. " It is very pretty," 
he writes, "to approach a Free State farm, especially 
at this time of the year, when all the trees are green, 
and those in the orchard hanging with fruit. We 
off-saddled and had a cup of coffee. Then the 
farmer took us over the premises. There is no need 
of many buildings on a Boer farm, as the cattle are 
never under a roof, but are herded out all day long by a 
native boy, and brought into an enclosure at night, 
called a kraal. The Boer's pride is in his cattle and 
horses, which he shows with great delight. We 
then proceeded to the orchard and garden, which was 
by far the most interesting to us. It was about one 
acre in extent, and thick with trees all hanging with 
fruit, apples, peaches, apricots, and pears. One of our 
company remarked, ' I wonder if the Garden of Eden 
was like this.' " 

Another visit made the same day brought Waddell 
unexpectedly in sight of his destiny. It was the last 
day of his holidays, and he spent the evening with 
Mr. Winyan, his minister. As the conversation of this 
evening was to prove the turning-point of his life, we 
must transcribe the account of it in full from his 
journal: " Passing from one subject of conversation 
to another, we found ourselves talking of the Dutch 
and native languages. Mr. Winyan remarked that he 
had been speaking French for the last two days on a 
French mission station in Basutoland, and that the 
missionary had preached for him the other Sabbath. 
' Oh,' I said, ' I was deeply interested in that man. 
His subject was, " The harvest truly is great but the 
labourers are few." He has rekindled in me the 



24 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

interest 1 already had in mission work.' On this Mr. 
Winyan said : ' By the way, Mr. Coillard is on the 
lookout for a Christian young man of your trade to 
go with him as an artisan missionary ; would you like 
that kind of work ? ' I replied, ' I would be only too 
glad if I were of any use, but I am afraid I shall not 
suit, as I can work only with my hands.' On this he 
said, ' You would be invaluable to him, but, remember, 
you cannot make money, as you are now doing.' 
' That's nothing to me if I can be of any use,' I said. 
' It is strange,' said Mr. Winyan, ' I never thought of 
you ; I thought of another young man who has left 
Bethlehem.' I inquired where Mr. Coillard was 
going, and why he was leaving Basutoland, and to 
what Society or Church he belonged. So Mr. Winyan 
told me what he knew, that Mr. Coillard had been 
up to the Zambesi a few years ago, and finding what 
seemed a good field for a new mission, went home 
to France and got the sanction of the Society to go. 
He was now waiting for someone to take his place 
in Basutoland. 'But would you be willing to go?' 
he said again. ' Certainly I would,' I replied, ' if I 
can be of any use.' ' If it were nothing but your 
example,' he said, ' it would do good.' I said, ' I am 
about tired of the life I have ; I like my trade, but it 
is long since I wished to serve God in this way. 
Often have I asked myself what work for Christ I 
could get to do. But I never had the courage to 
apply for such work lest I should not be qualified.' 
Then he said, ' Do not be too uplifted about it, 
remember that though you be in such work, you will 
find the devil before you on the Zambesi. . . .' But 
how was I to get free from my engagement with 



IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 25 

MacArthur? Mr. Winyan said he would break the 
ice for me, and I left the house, thanking him for his 
promise and kindness in opening for me a new kind of 
life which I have longed to have." 

So within a year of his landing in Africa, Waddell 
saw a path begin to open for the fulfilment of his 
boyish dreams. He was to be well tried before he 
could enter on it, but the trial only confirmed his 
resolution. It was the opportunity for which his life 
had been waiting. 

A little must now be told of Francois Coillard, with 
whom Waddell's life was henceforward to be so 
closely linked. 

In 1828 a missionary revival swept over the 
Protestant Churches of France, and the Paris Mission- 
ary Society was formed. But where could a field of 
operations be found ? At that time French Protest- 
ants were debarred from doing missionary work in 
their own colonies. While the question was under 
discussion, an appeal came through the agent of the 
London Missionary Society in Capetown from the 
Supreme Chief of the Basutos for the establishment 
of a mission in Basutoland. This was taken as the 
divine opening of a door, and three missionaries left 
in 1833 for Africa. Basutoland was at this time an 
independent little state hidden away among the 
Drakensbergen, to the west of Natal. The Basutos 
were a fine race, with a keen intelligence, and a high 
idea of honour and justice. Unlike the warrior tribes, 
such as the Matabele, they had a sense for organised 
government, practised agriculture, and loved peace. 
Among these people, Christianity, under the direction 
of the French missionaries, made rapid progress. 



26 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

To this mission in 1858 came Francois Coillard, a 
young Frenchman of great zeal and promise, and at 
his own request was given a pioneer station in Leribe. 
Coillard belonged to the yeoman class, having been 
born on 17th July, 1834, at Asnieres-les-Bourges, the 
place where Calvin practised as a lawyer. His parents 
were devoted Protestants, and he numbered Huguenot 
martyrs among his ancestors. Two years after his 
birth, his mother was left a widow in deep poverty 
with seven children, and had to take a situation as 
housekeeper at a castle, where little Frangois spent 
his early years herding turkeys, and reading and re- 
reading his only book, the Gospels. His mother, a 
woman of noble character and strong piety, dedicated 
him to the ministry, and very early the desire awoke 
in him to be a missionary ; but this was only a childish 
sentiment. When he was seventeen, an appeal from 
the Paris Missionary Society stirred the old dream, 
and he said to his mother, " Why should I not become 
a missionary ? " But the mother was reluctant, and 
the impulse again ebbed. He had yet to undergo a 
deep religious experience before he should be ready. 
This came through hearing read in church a tract by 
Ryle, afterwards Bishop of Liverpool, entitled, " Wheat 
or Chaff? " and issued in a spiritual conversion of 
a strongly individual character, which coloured his 
whole life and conception of missionary work. 
Another appeal from the Paris Missionary Society 
reached him, and the desire to be a missionary returned 
with clamant urgency. But what of his mother? 
Her first reply was a cry of pain that made his heart 
bleed. But after a time she wrote : " My child, I 
understand now that God is calling you. Go, I will 



IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 27 

not keep you back." He was accepted by the Paris 
Missionary Society, and after six years of study, 
was ordained in Paris in 1857 for the Basuto 
Mission. 

One other factor must be mentioned to make our 
history complete, his marriage. Before he left Paris, 
he had met a young Scotch lady, Christina 
Mackintosh, daughter of a Baptist minister in Edin- 
burgh, and felt from the first that only with her could 
his life be complete. She was a woman of great gifts 
and force of character. Her brothers and sisters 
named her as a girl the Heroine, so early did she 
begin to show a mind of outstanding courage. After 
months of lonely struggling at Leribe,with no Christian 
fellowship, and with nothing in his ears from morning 
till night but the shouting and brawling of the heathen, 
cooking his own food, keeping his own house, Coillard 
wrote and asked her to become his wife. But she 
declined on the ground of imperfect acquaintance. 
After two years he wrote again, and this time, believ- 
ing it to be a divine call, she accepted. When he 
met her at Capetown her first words were : " I have 
come to do the work of God with you, whatever it 
may be, and remember this, wherever God may call 
you, you shall never find me crossing your path of 
duty." 

In his wife Coillard found the complement of him- 
self This noble pair spent the next twenty years 
in the Basuto Mission, chiefly at Leribe. They 
found it a wilderness, and left it a garden, with a 
beautiful Gothic church and an attached native con- 
gregation. 

How did they come to leave it ? A desire arose 



28 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

among the Basuto Christians to undertake some 
Foreign Mission work, and the missionaries, believing 
that in no other way could their religious life be fully 
developed, gave them all encouragement. So it was 
resolved to organise a mission to the Banyai, a heathen 
tribe in Mashonaland. Some of the French mission- 
aries must head the expedition, and the choice fell on 
the Coillards. They were on the point of leaving for 
Europe, on their first furlough, but willingly obeyed 
the call. The expedition proved a failure. After 
endless hardships and vicissitudes, they were made 
prisoners by Lo Bengula, the Matabele king, who 
claimed suzerainty over the Banyai. He detained 
them for three months in his Kraal at Buluwayo, and 
in the end expelled them from the country with a 
definite refusal. Hearing that there was a tribe on the 
Zambesi who spoke the same language as the Basutos, 
Coillard pressed forward in the hope of finding there 
a field. He crossed the Zambesi, got in touch with 
King Robosi (later named Lewanika), and obtained 
permission to found a mission in his dominions. With 
this achieved, he returned to Basutoland, and a few 
months after sailed for Europe. He travelled through 
France, England, and Scotland rousing interest and 
raising funds for his new venture. It was far beyond 
the resources of the Basuto Church ; his own Society, 
while giving its hearty approval, could not face the 
burden of financing so unpromising an undertaking, 
and the responsibility for finding the money fell largely 
on himself. Having won friends, including some very 
warm and generous supporters in Scotland, he returned 
to Basutoland to organise the expedition. This was 
the work he was engaged in when he preached the 



IN SIGHT OF HIS DESTINY 29 

sermon that won the heart of Waddell. Speaking of 
the incident in after years, he would say, " I put in my 
hook to catch a fish that day in Bethlehem, and I 
caught you." 

So, through the mysterious providence of a casual 
sermon, these two men were brought together: Waddell 
to find the man who was to open the door of hope to 
him, and become the highest inspiration of his life ; 
Coillard to find the one man, perhaps in Africa, able 
to fill the vacant post, and face the summons of the 
Zambesi with a devotion as fervid as his own. 



CHAPTER III 

ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 

THE Basuto Christians were at first full of zeal for 
what they proudly called " our own mission," 
but the long delay and past disappointments had done 
much to cool it, and Coillard was finding his task as 
organiser a most depressing experience. In place of 
the enthusiastic volunteers of a few years ago, he 
could hardly obtain hired servants to face the perilous 
journey ; and some even of his own friends were 
beginning to shake their heads. An unsolicited offer 
therefore from a Scotch artisan, whom he had never 
seen, came as a great surprise, and his first letter to 
Waddell was written in a somewhat incredulous 
spirit. " He says he is glad to see I have a desire to 
do mission work," writes Waddell in his journal, " but 
thinks I do not quite understand what I am proposing. 
He says it is a most unhealthy and deadly place 
where he is going, that his mission is poor, and he 
does not advise me to go unless I see it to be a call 
from God. He invites me to visit him if I am in 
earnest about it." 

If Waddell did not at first realise the full extent of 

the sacrifice, he was to be well searched and proved 

before he should be allowed to enter upon it. Coillard, 

like his Master, Christ, believed in taking all would-be 

30 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 31 

disciples round and showing them the steepest side of 
the hill. " We are poor and go to a deadly climate," 
he wrote again ; " no one ought to follow us unless 
called by Him who has always led us, and is pre- 
pared to forsake all worldly prospects, and his very 
life." 

A job at Thlotse Heights, within a few miles of 
Leribe, to which he was sent, brought Waddell the 
welcome opportunity of meeting the French mission- 
ary. His first meeting was not encouraging. Coillard, 
who seldom erred in judgment, seems to have imagined 
that there was hardly grit enough in this shrinking, 
diffident Scot. " He answered every question I asked 
with pleasure, but he did not give me much en- 
couragement," Waddell writes, " and I began to think 
he did not want me. Next day he took me into his 
study and cross-questioned me as to my intentions, 
as he wanted to prove me, and this time he seemed 
satisfied with all I said. It is quite a different thing 
applying for a situation like this from any I have had 
yet. Character is the principal thing, whereas, with 
a contractor, hands are the principal thing." 

During his stay in Basutoland he made frequent 
visits to Leribe, saw the vast changes wrought on the 
native character by the Gospel, and fell more and 
more in love with mission work. " Every night," he 
writes, " we see passing here young women led out 
by an elderly woman, wearing masks or veils, painted 
in a most horrible fashion, and screaming, rather than 
singing, hideous songs. They go to the rocks all 
day to bewail their virginity. What a contrast 
this to a Christian native wedding I saw the other 
evening! The bride and bridegroom, dressed gaily 



32 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

went marching arm in arm, with a company singing 
hymns." 

His companions did everything they could to 
dissuade him from what they called an " act of suicide," 
but his resolution only became the firmer. At last 
came the day that fixed his choice. He attended a 
prayer-meeting in Coillard's house, at which the 
Basutos, going to the Zambesi, were present. Coillard 
read Romans xii. I, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, 
by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies 
a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is 
your reasonable service." " He exhorted us on these 
words," writes Waddell, "butthe text wasquitesufficient 
for me. I said to myself, I see it ; yes, I will go to 
the Zambesi ; I no longer halt between two opinions." 
Next day the seal was laid upon his choice as he sat 
at the Lord's Table in the native church. As Coillard 
handed the bread and wine he quoted a text to each 
in turn. " When handing me the bread, he said so 
reverently, ' Love not the world,' that I completely 
broke down. I felt, although coming from human 
lips, it was a message from my Saviour." Having 
made his decision, he communicated it to his 
parents, who gave their cordial acquiescence. " I am 
glad to learn," he writes in his next letter, " that you 
are now so proud of what I am about to do. I know, 
mother, you were always in favour of my going, 
only you thought I was not strong enough ; but 
that will be tested by-and-by. You are the first 
person who made me think of Africa's need of a 
Saviour. I could not hate an African and love you." 

Understanding that the expedition would start 
immediately, he obtained release from his master, that 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 38 

he might be ready to join it at any moment. He 
took farewell of his class at Bethlehem, telling them 
he was going up country with a missionary, and hoped 
that some of them would one day follow him. 

This was in the end of May, 1883, but seven 
months were still to elapse before the actual departure.* 
So he was now to be tried by waiting. A civil war 
broke out in Basutoland between two rival chiefs ; it 
raged hotly round Lerib6, old men and children being 
murdered in the very mission premises, whither they had 
fled for protection. In these precarious circumstances, 
Coillard could not leave his flock, and he wrote to 
Waddell offering to set him free. But he had no wish 
to be free, and spent the next months doing odd jobs, 
when he could obtain them, and on idle days shooting 
wild duck. From a boy he had been an expert shot. 

He worked for some weeks at the store of a Polish 
Jew, who formed so high an opinion of his skill that 
he offered to give him wood to build a work-shop, but 
he told him that the first work-shop he hoped to build 
would be somewhere on the Zambesi. 

Two months were spent on a Boer farm, where he 

found life more congenial, but victuals more scanty than 

with the Jew. " A working-man at home would not 

like to do a hard day's work after a meal at a Boer 

table," he writes ; " their brown bread is good, 

but they are sparing with it. A sheep is killed 

occasionally, which is a pleasant change from the 

everyday biltong and salt meat. There are no 

vegetables, and mealies are used in place of potatoes. 

Coffee is given at every meal ; it is coffee, coffee all 

day long ; coffee before starting work, coffee again 

* Owing to an outbreak of small-pox imposing quarantine. 
3 



34 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

before breakfast, coffee at breakfast, coffee a little 
after breakfast, and so on till you go to bed, after a 
cup of coffee." 

Waddell learned here, among other things, the art of 
thatching houses, the knowledge of which he believed 
would prove invaluable on the Zambesi. " Surely 
this is not all chance," he writes. " Oh, no, I can see 
every day that I am being fitted for a nobler work in 
the regions beyond." 

During these months of wandering he met with 
many strange characters, moral driftwood from the 
old country, descriptions of whom fill pages of his 
diary. We may give one illustration. " On Saturday, 
a pale elderly gentleman, wearing a velvet coat, came 
up to me, as he stepped from a Boer cart, and said, 
tapping my shoulder, ' Where do you come from ? ' 
' Scotland,' I said. ' What part of Africa is that ? ' he 
said, at which I laughed. Then he said, 'If you come 
from Scotland, come and have a glass of grog and 
drink Scotland's health.' When I declined, he said, 
' What sort of a Scotchman are you that you cannot 
have a glass of grog?' On making inquiries, I found 

he was a Rev. , a broken-down clergyman of the 

Church of England, now a tutor in a Boer family." 
With this poor wreck he had several conversations, 
the last of which was not without a touch of pathos. 
" He gave me a knock on the chest, and said, * You 
say you are going with Mr. Coillard. Why, you are 
rotten, you will be a hindrance to him ; look at your 

teeth.' ' But, Mr. ,' I said, ' what does it matter 

about my teeth if my heart is right ? ' He paused 
for a moment, then took my hand and kissed it, saying, 
' God be with you, my boy, I wish I were like you.' " 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 35 

Toward the close of the year the way began to 
open for the starting of the expedition, and Waddell 
spent the last weeks in Leribe making boxes, and 
getting the waggons ready. To the French mission- 
aries, whose warm responsive natures had much in 
common with his own, he took, from the first, a great 
liking. " The French missionaries all seem to be 
good, happy people," he writes, " and are like one 
large family. To be among them at prayer one feels 
inclined to say, ' This is none other but the house of 
God, and this is the gate of heaven.' " 

The expedition, as finally arranged, consisted of 
six Europeans, representing four nationalities and 
two native evangelists, with their wives and children ; 
Mr. and Miss Coillard, who were French ; Mrs. 
Coillard and Mr. Waddell, who were Scotch ; Mr. 
Jeanmairet, a young Swiss ; and Mr. X., an 
English bricklayer, who was later to desert them to 
become a trader. These, with the Basutos, Aaron 
and Levi, formed the whole party. The caravan 
consisted of four waggons and a Scotch cart, each 
waggon to be drawn by sixteen oxen under the 
charge of two Basutos, a leader and a driver, and the 
cart by eight. A number of spare oxen were also 
taken, along with seven horses, which Jonathan, the 
paramount Basuto chief, was sending as presents *to 
Khama and Lewanika. Seven dogs were included 
for watching and protection against wild beasts. 

At last came the starting day, 2nd January, 1884. 
" We are now ready," writes Waddell, " and the 
waggons are drawn out on the road. I remarked to 
Mrs. Coillard, ' It looks as if we were already started.' 
' Yes,' she said, ' it is like a ship drawn out of port.' 



30 AN ARTISAN MISSIONAPvY 

When saying this she burst into tears, and no wonder, 
at leaving a place like this, which was a wilderness 
and now blossoms as the rose." 

The actual start was a very touching scene. 
" What a crowd of people had come to say good-bye ! 
Mr. Coillard had a farewell hymn and prayer after 
the oxen were all yoked, and when it was over, it was 
easy to see by the tears of the people how much they 
loved their missionary. An elderly woman, once the 
wife of a chief, sat on the front of the waggon, with 
Mrs. Coillard, till it stopped near the river. When 
she came down, she caught hold of the wheel and 
said, ' I cannot let this waggon go.' Mrs. Coillard 
said to her, ' Rahab, remember what we are going for.' 
Then she said good-bye for the last time." 

A number of the Basuto Christians accompanied 
them as far as the Caledon River, and helped them to 
get the waggons across the drift. Then they took a 
long farewell. 

Trying as the expedition was expected to be, no 
one who set out that day from Leribe had any idea 
that nearly three years would elapse before the 
Barotsi Mission could be entered on in earnest. So 
full of hardship, delay, and difficulty did it prove, that 
Mrs. Coillard said she thought it would be the 
second generation that would see the promised land. 

No part of Waddell's journal is more full and 
interesting than his description of the journey north- 
ward. Much of it is of course the repetition of similar 
experiences, the passage of swamps, crossing of rivers, 
sticking of waggons in mid-stream, with days spent 
in unloading, loading, and re-loading. Here is one 
example out of many — the crossing of the Vaal : — 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 37 

" No. I waggon was tried first, with two spans of oxen, 
and got over all right after a severe tossing. No. 2 
stuck in the middle of the stream, and whip and 
shout as we might, the wheels only sunk deeper in the 
soft bottom, so there was nothing for it but to off- 
load. This was no easy matter in mid-stream. We 
crossed over the cart, put its cargo on the ground, and 
after several journeys with it to the middle of the 
stream, carted all the luggage off the waggon to the 
bank. Then when it was completely empty, every 
one put his shoulder to the wheel, and with a long 
pull and a strong pull, and a pull altogether, it came 
out of the hole, and the oxen drew it safe to land. 
It was now mid-day, and the cattle as well as 
ourselves were ready for breakfast." 

The route taken was by way of the Vaal River and 
Pretoria. In Pretoria a welcome was given them, 
and a missionary meeting organised, at which Vice- 
President Joubert took the chair. In an eloquent 
speech he drew a distinction between "evangelical 
missionaries, to whom he believed Coillard to belong, 
and missionaries like Livingstone, who mingled Christ- 
ianity and politics, making trouble among the 
natives." * This was the first missionary meeting ever 
recognised by a member of a Boer Government. 

Leaving Pretoria, the expedition pressed north- 
ward to the Limpopo, or Crocodile River (famous 
as the hunting ground of Gordon Cumming), and 
followed its banks for a considerable way. The hard- 
ships they experienced were innumerable. Food was 

* The Transvaal Boers have always maintained this view of 
Livingstone's work. The controversy was fully dealt with in 
his own letters, q,v. 



38 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

scarce, their oxen died of red-water, and the stench 
of rotting vegetation struck them down with sickness. 
But they pushed bravely forward. The work of each 
day began with prayer, and the singing of the 
favourite Sesuto hymn, A!'*^ linako tsotle (" I need Thee 
every hour "). Each fresh difficulty was prayed over, 
and Waddell testifies that the way in which appar- 
ently unsurmountable difficulties seemed to melt 
away gave him a new faith in the power of prayer. 
Through all he maintained a cheery spirit, recording 
the sights and incidents of the way with the zest of 
the born traveller. The shy antelopes, the garrisons 
of baboons, the lovely birds with unmelodious screams, 
one with a cry like " Go away, go away," as if it 
disliked the appearance of a Scotchman, all find a 
place in his pages. His majesty, the lion, is about, 
and fires are kindled at night to keep him at a safe 
distance ; snakes are the accepted order of the day. 
" After I had lain down for the night, I heard some- 
thing squeaking at the bottom of my bed, and when 
I struck a light, was shocked to see a snake killing a 
frog. I took the frog's part, and killed the snake." 

Arrived at the Marico River, a tributary of the 
Limpopo, they found it so swollen that all thought of 
crossing was out of the question until it should 
subside. Three weary weeks they had to spend in 
this unhealthy spot, with oxen dying every day, and 
the whole party suffering from fever. Before the end 
a waggon was left without oxen, every horse had died 
save one, flocks of vultures kept wheeling over them 
all day long, and they began to be in deep concern. 
But the water fell, help arrived from Shoshong, and 
they continued on their journey. 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 39 

On the 3rd of April they reached Shoshong 
(Khama's Town), where a hearty reception awaited 
them, and they rested through some happy weeks of 
fellowship, while Waddell busied himself with over- 
hauling the waggons. Khama and his people vied 
with one another in their kindness. "Khama is a 
prince and a gentleman," writes Waddell. " He is a 
philanthropist, and lives for the good of his people, 
which is an exception to the rule of the native chiefs. 
He is more afraid of the demon drink than of all the 
forces of the Matabele." Here Waddell had fresh 
testimony of the wonderful effects of mission work. 
The first to preach the Gospel among the Bamangw- 
atoes had been Livingstone, and now the Christian 
communicants numbered many hundreds, and their 
church had become too small. " The work here," he 
says, '* is a sure proof of the power of the Gospel." 

Mr. Coillard found a letter awaiting him from 
Lewanika, who had also written to Khama, asking 
him as a favour to help his missionary on his journey, 
that he might arrive as soon as possible, and making 
at the same time some other modest requests, such 
as " a horse, a plough, a black dog, a rifle, and to 
crown all, Khama's daughter for his wife," which, says 
Waddell, " of all things he won't get." 

The longest and most trying part of the journey 
was still to come, and after this period of rest in 
Shoshong, with the oxen fresh and the waggons once 
more in repair, the expedition plunged into the 
thirsty Kalahari desert, to face the 400 miles that 
still lay between them and the Zambesi. " Crack 
went the whips and we were off," writes Waddell. 
" Night was approaching as we entered the desert. 



40 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

We had now seen the last of civilisation, it might be 
for life. God knows, we may never all return. When 
passing through the Mangwato Hills all was still, 
save the groaning of the waggons, and hearing a 
leopard growl in the distance, a strange feeling of 
loneliness crept over me as I thought of home, and 
those I might never see again." 

Their way now led through heavy sand, thick 
thorny bushes and entangling trees, sometimes for 
days without sight of water, and the sufferings of 
man and beast were great. " Travelling at night 
suits the cattle best," writes Waddell, " but it is 
anything but pleasant to travel through a thorny 
forest in the darkness. Clouds of choking dust arise 
from the waggons, and every now and then a hat is 
knocked off with the bushes, or someone's clothes are 
caught by the wait-a-bit thorn. To sit in front of a 
waggon one runs the risk of becoming like Absalom, 
to travel behind is even more dangerous, as the 
waggon goes over very flexible trees, which spring 
back and give you a blow enough to knock you 
down. Every now and then one or other of the 
waggons will run against a tree, which is rather 
unpleasant to cut down in the moonlight. The few 
hours we stop during the day are taken up repairing 
the wreck of the previous night." 

This thirsty desert is inhabited by a tribe of bush- 
men, some of whom the expedition engaged as 
guides, and Waddell's description of them is full of 
interest. " These people are surely the lowest of the 
human race. They have no settled place of abode, 
their huts do not deserve the name, as they are only 
a few branches, with some grass thrown over. All 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 41 

their blanket is a fire, to see them lying round which 
makes one's flesh creep. Their legs are actually 
roasted and sometimes bleeding. Those travelling 
with us always carry a piece of burning wood, by 
which they can have a fire whenever they rest. 
Should this wood go out, they have two sticks slung 
round their necks, and they make fire by friction. 
It is interesting to travel with them and see how 
they find food all along the road. Suddenly they 
will drop their gourd and begin digging roots like 
potatoes, or they will chop a tree and find honey. 
They have means of getting water by an artesian 
well which they have ever with them. If they come 
upon a low-lying wet place, they will insert a reed 
three feet long, with some grass tied to the end to 
serve as a filter. Then they suck the reed, have a 
drink, fill their water vessels and go on. They wander 
about all their life long, living on anything they can 
find, such as roots, bulbs, insects, snakes, beetles, 
caterpillars, grasshoppers, berries, everything and 
anything they can chew. They have the instinct to 
know poisonous plants and fruits, avoid them in 
eating, but use them to poison their arrows. They 
can cure themselves, it is said, from snake-bite. They 
are full of superstition, and carry with them bones 
which they throw up as dice to find out what direc- 
tion their luck lies in hunting. They have really no 
god but the belly, and of all people seem to be the 
hardest to get at, owing to their unsettled ways. 
Their language, also, is a difficult one, being a series 
of clicks. Khama, whose subjects they are, has tried 
to break them off from their wild, roving ways by 
making them cattle herds. But many won't tame, 



42 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

they prefer to feast and fast and rove about, like 
the rest of the animals of their home." 

Not a few travellers have been lost in the Kalahari 
desert. Mr. Selous, the famous hunter, when 
pursuing a giraffe, lost his way, and nearly died of 
hunger. One day Waddell went in search of a 
donkey and had a similar experience. " I was 
attracted by a wild pig," he writes, " and rushed after 
it, hoping to get a shot. At that moment a snake 
darted across my path chasing a lizard, so I stood 
and saw the snake run up a tree after its prey into 
a hole. By this time I had quite forgotten my 
direction, which it is very easy to do in an African 
forest, the trees being so like each other. I wandered 
about for some time ; snakes seemed to be crossing 
my path every five minutes, and one enormous 
serpent went flying past like lightning, making a 
noise that resembled a boy playing with a piece of 
elastic stretched from his mouth. The evening was 
approaching, and though I knew I could not be far 
from the waggon road, I could not say in what 
direction it lay. The thought of being benighted 
was too much. Observing a little rise in the sand 
before me, I climbed the tallest tree I could find, and 
saw the valley where I thought the waggons were. I 
set off, and before walking an hour heard the barking 
of our dogs, which was a welcome sound. Nobody ever 
knew I was lost but myself ; I got a fright but said 
nothing." 

Despite its difficulties, Waddell found the crossing 
of the Kalahari intensely interesting. With his pre- 
conceived idea of a desert as a drifting sandy waste, 
its immense forests teeming with zebras, gnus, and 



ON THE ROAD NORTHWARD 43 

antelopes, as well as ostriches, were a revelation to 
him. He studied the trees along the route with the 
practised eye of the worker in wood, and speculated 
on their possibilities. And he kept the much-tried 
Basuto drivers in humour with his cheeriness and 
sympathy. " He is a good fellow," was their verdict 
to Mrs. Coillard. 

Practically the whole road northward Waddell 
covered on foot, and was far, as he says, from enjoy- 
ing the immunity of the children of Israel, whose 
" raiment waxed not old, neither did their foot swell!' 
He was often footsore and weary, as well as in straits 
about his wardrobe, but he carried through all with a 
" glorious morning face," rejoicing in the daily miracle 
of God's providence. 

The Kalahari was not all tangled forest. Here 
and there they would come to wide open plains, 
where they watched the animals sporting and fighting 
on the far horizon, and saw the sun set in a heaven 
that looked, he says, " like a flame of fire, or glitter- 
ing gold." 



CHAPTER IV 

THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 

IN following the steps of Waddell, it is enlivening at 
times to turn from the plain Scotch homespun of 
his journal to the vivid tapestry of Coillard's great 
book, " On the Threshold of Central Africa." The 
following taken from his description of the crossing 
of the Kalahari desert, in which we left our friend at 
the close of last chapter, throws an interesting side- 
light on Waddell's character: — "Every one has his 
share of damages, but no one has been so badly used as 
our friend Waddell. A portmanteau, a trunk, and tool- 
box comprised all his belongings. The portmanteau 
and the trunk disappeared one after the other. ' At 
least my chest of tools has escaped,' said our Scotch- 
man with satisfaction. He was proud of this 
mahogany chest, with its ingenious compartments, 
the first work of his apprenticeship. It received 
many blows and fractures, but our carpenter always 
found some way of repairing them. One day a new 
hihu ! hihu ! from Levi made us run breathless to his 
waggon. The precious chest was no longer ; it lay 
splintered on the ground. This time the damage was 
irremediable. Poor Waddell used his hatchet with 
all his might, to disengage the rest of his tools from 
the trunk of a great tree. As for ourselves, we could 
44 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 45 

only look on, sorrowful and silent. Waddell's face 
was flushed, the tears starting to his eyes, yet he 
tried to smile in spite of it all. ' Never mind, sir,' he 
said, ' the chest is broken but the tools are saved ; 
give me some boards and time enough, and you'll see 
if I don't make something better.' There is grit in a 
man like that. It is easy enough to give him time, 
but where are the boards to come from ? They will 
have to be made first, and no one knew that better 
than himself" 

Emerging at last from the Kalahari, they arrived at 
Pandamatenga, at one time considered the nearest 
place to the Zambesi to which oxen could be brought 
with safety, on account of the deadly tsetse-fly. They 
received a warm welcome from Mr. Westbeech, the 
well-known trader, who had his head station there, 
and whom Mr. Coillard had met on his previous 
journey north. It had been the graves indeed of some 
hunters and traders in a corner of Mr. Westbeech's 
garden, Coillard told Waddell, that decided him to 
return to the Zambesi. " Surely if these men could 
risk their lives for the sake of money," he said to 
himself, " it would be a shame if the servants of God 
would not risk their lives for the sake of the Gospel." 
Westbeech, who was the only trader Lewanika had 
ever allowed to traffic in his dominions, had the 
cheering news to give them that all the chiefs were 
in their favour, and they were being eagerly expected. 

In addition to the small colony of hunters, there was 
in Pandamatenga a Jesuit Mission, the members of 
which received them with astonishing kindness. Some 
six years earlier the Jesuits had come up country with 
dreams of evangelising Barotsiland, and had pene- 



46 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

trated as far as the Capital, but in face of hardship 
and death their enthusiasm had ebbed away, and now 
they had withdrawn themselves to this forlorn hope 
beyond the river, and seemed chiefly anxious to be 
recalled home. " Drive me where you will," said the 
Father Superior to Waddell, as he sat in the front of 
one of the waggons, " but not to the Zambesi." They 
took them all over their station, showed them their 
farm and garden and chapel, regarding the woodwork 
of which Waddell expressed his admiration. " You 
are a carpenter, are you," said the Father Superior, 
" then you are the most useful man in the country ? " 
" They appear to be a people," adds Waddell, " who 
know how to take care of themselves, but as for teach- 
ing the natives little is done." However, they had 
kind hearts, and with a rare magnanimity loaded with 
supplies the men who were coming to take their 
place. 

Five days' journeying through a country of sand 
and thick forest with little water brought them to 
Leshoma, sixty miles nearer the Zambesi, and only 
some ten miles from it. As this was now reckoned 
the nearest place to the river where cattle could live, 
they resolved to pitch their tents and make a halt, 
until they got into communication with Lewanika, or 
his head-men at Sesheke. For to cross the Zambesi 
without formal permission would be a deadly crime. 
" Our camp," writes Waddell, " is on the edge of a 
sand-hill, from which we have a good view of 
three to four miles across the Leshoma valley, with 
the Leshoma, a beautiful stream of clear water with 
a rocky bottom, flowing through it. Looking north, 
we can see a blue line over the trees, where lies the 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 47 

valley of the Zambesi." But they were farther from 
the end of their trials than they fancied. 

News of their arrival was sent on to Sesheke, the 
chief town of the Barotsi, on the Lower River and to 
Mambova, where lived a chief whom Coillard knew, 
and they set out on foot to the ford of Kazungula, 
hoping to be taken across, for an interview. " To us 
coming out of the thirsty desert," says Waddell, " the 
river was a lovely sight. We fired two or three shots 
to attract the ferryman, and then assembled under a 
large tree, and offered prayer, thanking God for bring- 
ing us thus far, and asking Him to be with us still 
and bless this Mission to the poor benighted people 
along the bank of this beautiful river. We hardly 
expected to get across immediately, as we knew that 
the ferryman dare not take a stranger without per- 
mission from a chief. So we wandered about, waiting, 
and admiring the river, with its islands of palm trees, 
until the sun went down. At that moment we saw 
two natives steal across the river, from our side, 
having hidden apparently in fright lest we should give 
them a message. Darkness overtook us, and there was 
no sight of the ferryman ; so we lay down and passed 
an uncomfortable night amid the concert of an African 
forest, with the additional bass of the hippopotamus. 
As soon as daylight broke, we had some breakfast, 
then a word of prayer, and set off for the camp at 
Leshoma, assured that no welcome was to come to 
us." Coillard had omitted to accompany his message 
with the salutation which the chiefs expected. For 
the same reason his letters which he had despatched 
ahead had not been forwarded to the King. 

It became clear to them that they would have to 



48 AN ARTISAN ^rrSSTONARY 

put up the expedition at Leshoma until the rainy 
season was over, and send their Basuto drivers back 
to their country. A message, however, reached 
Coillard soon after that he was wanted by the chiefs 
at Seshekc, and he resolved to set out alone, advising 
Waddell, at the same time, to make a visit to the 
Victoria Falls some sixty miles off, as it might be his 
only opportunity of seeing them. So the next section 
of his journal is filled with an account of that memor- 
able visit. As it was made in the early days before 
Musi oa Tmiya (The Thundering Smoke) had become 
democratised, we shall quote his description. 

" Coming upon the river the second day, an 
extensive view opened before us, and the grandeur of 
the panorama is impossible to relate. We marched 
in single file, as if going through some wonderful 
botanical garden. Trees with tropical creepers like 
long ropes intertwining them, palms and flowers, and 
tall grass, at places eaten close to the ground by the wild 
animals, which every now and then start and flee from 
us. The trees are full of monkeys, baboons, and 
beautiful birds. On the ground are flocks of 
guinea-fowls, pheasants, and such like, some of which 
I shot, and a python ten feet long. One has to keep 
a good lookout for the old game pits, which are over- 
grown with creepers and bushes. These traps are 
found all along the south bank, and belong to the people 
across the river. We came across many skeletons of 
elephants, their enormous skulls looking like big white 
stones at a distance. In one of them I found a young 
hive of bees. Those elephants that are left have 
become very timid, and keep away from the river 
during the day. We had the usual forest concert at 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 49 

night, the lion included, but he did not show himself. 
One day, to my astonishment, our Zambesi boys were 
attracted by a little bird called the honey-bird. This 
little bird chirped, and the boys followed it from tree 
to tree, until they came to a hollow one where the 
honey was. There the little bird rested silent, while 
the boys made fire, chopped a hole and got the 
honey. Then the bird flew down and gleaned upon 
the leavings of honey and grub. 

" Arriving at the Falls, we rid ourselves of some 
clothing, put on our waterproofs, and got a grand 
view of this wonder of the world. We got right in 
front of the Falls, which are five in number, the river 
being about a mile in width, and divided by four or 
five islands. The water, falling a distance of three to 
four hundred feet into a narrow channel, causes five 
volumes of spray to ascend a great height and fall 
back like a perpetual rain, creating a most beautiful 
rainbow. Tropical trees adorn the islands, and 
numbers of rare ferns grow on the crevices of the 
rocks and roots of the trees, which are ever wet with 
the falling spray. I understand that Dr. Livingstone 
cut his name on a tree on one of the islands over- 
looking the Falls, but as far as I am aware, no one 
has ever ventured to look for it." 

Immediately on his return from the Falls, Waddell 
set to work to build for Mr. and Mrs. Coillard a log- 
cabin, which might later serve as a depot for goods 
coming from Shoshong, He hired some native boys 
to assist, among them Nguana-Ngombe, of whom we 
shall hear later, and went with them into the forest to 
fell trees. His methods of work excited the wonder 
of the natives. Why should he wish to make a 
4 



50 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

square house, ought not a house to be round, as the 
sun was round, and the moon ? And how was his 
house to stand ? " After having squared the trees for 
the foundation," he writes, " I had them levelled in 
their place and raised the poles on them. This was 
something new to the natives, who were puzzled to 
know how the house would stand, with the trees not 
planted in the ground. They said it would fall, and 
wanted to show me how to do it. When I had the 
roof on and the stays taken away, they said we white 
people were wizards, as we could make houses stand 
on trees, instead of planting them in the ground. 
When asked if it was good they said, ' Oh, yes, but 
they could have made a house with less trees, and if 
I had planted them in the ground it would have been 
finished long ago. Besides, they thought the house 
would be too cold, being so high. ' " 

Waddell showed from the first a wonderful aptitude 
in dealing with the natives. He had infinite patience, 
and he needed it. One day he made a hand-barrow 
out of a box, and set two of them to carry loads 
of earth ; but they could not understand it. They 
put a little earth in the bottom, one put it on his head, 
and the other walked behind to help him off with it. 
So he had to allow them to return to their own ways. 
He tried to teach them to handle a trowel, but found 
it impossible. They said they wanted the medicine. 
" Poor people," he says, " they think all our skill and 
wisdom comes to us by taking medicine." Here 
already Waddell began to have a foretaste of his 
future work and of its difficulties. The problem of 
making planks with a hand-saw faced him from the 
first. " Poor Waddell," writes Coillard, " has been 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 51 

racking his brain to try and make planks a foot wide 
with a saw designed for quite a different purpose." 
Again and again this trouble meets us in his journal. 
" Sawing timber is very hard work, and nobody seems 
to like it. If only we had a circular saw, what a 
resource it would be ! " It was long, too long, before 
that wish was fulfilled. 

When Coillard returned from his visit to the chiefs 
at Sesheke, it was with the disturbing news that a 
revolution had broken out in the country — Lewanika 
had fled, and it was doubtful when they would be at 
liberty to cross the Zambesi. So they were compelled 
in the meantime to make Leshoma their home, and 
begin what mission work was possible. Miss Coillard 
opened a school, and Mr. Jeanmairet went around 
teaching and preaching. Here they had to endure 
thirteen months of dreary waiting, during which their 
lives and property were in continual danger. Hordes 
of natives besieged them, bartering, stealing, and 
threatening. Leopards broke through their defences 
and killed their animals. Fever struck them down ; 
but they fought on to secure a footing in the place. 
Writing in the month of November, Waddell says : 
" In the first week of this month we dined for the 
first time in our house, a great treat after nearly a year 
of camp life. God has been good to us, and kept us 
through the wilderness until now, and has given me 
strength to get this house and other shelters ready for 
His servants before the great rains." 

He had the greatest difficulty in obtaining any help 
or information in regard to " woods " or other things, 
and was thrown entirely on the resources of his own 
eyes and hands, both of which he used to advantage. 



52 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

His diary overflows with a wealth of observation ; of 
trees, plants, and minerals, birds, animals, and even 
insects, he made a close study. Nothing in God's 
world was indifferent to him. He observes the habits 
of the insects moving through the dust, " making it 
like a miniature Vesuvius " ; he describes the flight of 
the ants, leaving their wings strewn over the ground 
in the morning " like flakes of snow" ; he follows the 
movements of the caterpillars and beetles, taking a 
special interest in the " black scavenger " as he rolls off 
a ball of dung, larger than himself, to his hole. The 
beauty of the Spring blossoms, the creepers, and 
flowering shrubs, the hum of the honey-bees in the 
trees, the lovely but songless birds, all have their 
place in his journal. He marvels at the lack of 
interest which the natives display in everything that 
does not concern their stomachs. " The working 
boys," he writes, " seem to care for nothing but what 
they can eat. When inquiring about a beautiful 
white flower, like a lily, all the answer I got was, ' it 
is not for eating.' " 

One gets glimpses also of the hardships and risks 
of his life. " I have no mosquito curtain," he writes, 
" but sleep with gloves on, and cover my face as much 
as I can in the stifling heat, but awake in the morning 
to find my pillow all spotted with blood." One day 
a grey-coloured snake, about six feet long, spat over 
his shoulder. Another day he fell ten feet from the 
roof of the house which he was building. Once, when 
he had followed some natives to their shelter, to 
demand the return of a stolen chisel, he heard one 
inciting the others to choke that vioruti nyana (little 
teacher). He suffered much from fever, and often 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 53 

could hardly drag himself to work. " Mr. Coillard 
has been thinking he will have to bury me," he writes. 
One day he had to struggle from his bed in the height 
of fever to make a coffin for the little girl of Aaron, 
one of the Basuto evangelists. With the thermometer 
rising to ii2 degrees in the shade, work at all times 
was difficult, and with a fever-stricken body it was 
martyrdom. And the night often brought little rest. 
" Between dogs, hyaenas, and leopards, the noise at 
night is sometimes unbearable, especially to one with a 
splitting headache, and the mosquitoes on those nights 
seem to be more savage than ever, making one long 
for the morning, which brings relief but no strength 
for the duties of the day. I struggle on however, and 
though I do not make much speed I am thankful 
when I am on my feet." 

Having built huts for the rest of the party, and 
made them comfortable, he proceeded to repair the 
waggons, and make doors and windows for their first 
home on the Zambesi, when that happy dream should 
be realised. " Miss Coillard holds her little school at 
one end of the shed, and my bench is at the other, 
where I am now making a hard-wood door to take to 
Barotsiland." 

All this time Coillard was going and coming 
between Leshoma and Sesheke, that " Slough of 
Despond," as he called it, holding meetings with the 
chiefs. Sesheke was the residence of twelve or fifteen 
Barotsi chiefs, presided over by a principal chief called 
the Morantsiane. Being far removed from the 
capital, they had usurped a considerable degree of 
power, and had incurred the suspicion of the king, 
who was scheming to have most of them removed, 



54 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

when his intention was discovered. Now they could 
not conceal their delight at his downfall, and gave 
themselves over to an orgy of drunkenness. Confusion 
reigned supreme. It was impossible for Coillard to 
enter the country until he first paid his respects to the 
king, and for the present there was no king. So the 
weary months dragged on. He gathered the idle 
chiefs together and attempted to do some mission 
work. A report reached Leshoma, which had rather 
an amusing sequel, that the people at Sesheke had 
become accustomed to die every mornhig (so they 
expressed kneeling at prayer), and now they thought 
nothing of it. Some young men, Waddell tells us, who 
had come early to sell corn, were invited to morning 
prayers with the other natives. "They sat still 
during the singing and reading, but when we were 
getting on our knees for prayer, they all bolted and 
ran down the valley as hard as their legs could 
carry them, and when we got up, we could see them 
still running. When we inquired afterwards why 
they had run away, they said they heard it was death. 
How they have come to associate prayer with death 
we do not know." 

At last a lull came in the revolution, a weakling, 
Akufuna, was set on the throne of Lewanika by the 
insurrectionists, and things showed promise of settling 
down. Coillard made a journey to the capital, Lealui, 
which he found in ruins. He was well received by 
the new king, to whom he gave the salutation 
that had been intended for Lewanika — a handsome 
military cloak — and was taken to inspect the site that 
was designated for his mission. He returned down 
the river, having decided to leave Mr. Jeanmairet at 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 55 

Sesheke, and push on at once with Waddell to Sefula, 
350 miles higher up the Zambesi, and within twenty- 
miles of the Capital, where he would plant his central 
station. On his arrival at Leshoma, he found the whole 
party prostrate with fever, and was horrified, he said, at 
the cadaverous faces he saw. It might be thought 
that now they were at liberty to cross the Zambesi, but 
no, the " lords of Sesheke " must first pay their respects 
to the king, and this occupied some months longer. 
But " the weariest river flows somewhere into the sea," 
and at last they returned, offered their assistance at 
the Ford, and expressed a wish that one of the 
missionaries might remain amongst them at Sesheke. 
Now came the hazardous task of crossing the 
Zambesi, but it was with happy and buoyant hearts 
they left Leshoma at last behind, and prepared to face 
it. The ten miles of forest were passed during the 
night to escape the tsetse-fly, which is chiefly active 
by day ; and on the 15th August, 1885, the expedition 
stood at the Ford of Kazungula, looking across the 
stretch of waters over which waggons and live-stock 
had to be ferried. It was the work of many days to 
get all the goods across, the natives whom the chiefs 
of Sesheke had sent to help, more eager for setsibas 
(calico) than for service, gave them much annoyance, 
but the fresh enthusiasm which filled the party carried 
them through. They felt that the work for which 
they had come was to begin at last. And by 24th 
August they had encamped on the other side. One 
incident from Waddell's journal will give some idea of 
the perilous nature of the crossing. " Some one 
suggested to ferry the waggon-wheels across by 
standing them upright in two canoes alongside each 



56 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

other. So we tried the cart wheels first, and I went 
over with them. All went well at first, but when in 
mid-stream some bark came out of a hole in the bottom 
of the canoe, which the paddler immediately stopped 
with his toe. Taking my eye off him for a moment, I 
noticed that the pin had come out of one end of the 
axle, and that the canoes were separating, and the 
axle was nearly out of the bush. I saw the danger 
and shouted out, and one of the men gave me over 
his paddle, so we pulled the canoes together and held 
on until we landed. What would have happened if the 
axle had come out makes me shudder to think, for it 
means that both canoes would have been capsized by 
the heavy fall of the wheels. I thank God for this 
deliverance from the crocodiles. We had enough of 
that way of crossing." 

A glimpse we have of Waddell returning from 
Leshoma, whither he had gone to fetch some forgotten 
articles, shows us the state of body in which this 
exhausting labour was done, " Having a bad attack 
of fever, I started to walk the ten miles back at my 
leisure, leaving Kamburu (a native boy) to follow 
when he had made up his bundles. When I had gone 
about four miles, I was so done up that I lay down 
under a tree, Kamburu, coming up, looked distressed 
and said, ' Ntate (Father), can you not walk ? ' ' Oh, 
Kamburu,' I said, ' could you not get me a drink ? ' 
And immediately he put down his load and ran 
back to Leshoma. I think I never had such a thirst, 
and Kamburu seemed never to come. So I got on 
my feet, and again made an effort to walk on, but 
found to my astonishment, when I met Mr, Coillard, 
that I was going back to Leshoma. Mr. Coillard 



THE ZAMBESI AT LAST 57 

proposed that the boys should carry me, but I would 
not hear of it, and gathered all my courage and 
strength and trudged on, taking a rest every two or 
three miles. Kamburu did not appear until we had 
nearly arrived at the Ford." 

When their troubles at the Ford were over, some of 
them went for a row on the river. " As we were 
rowing past the islands," says Waddell, " we sang the 
Mission hymn, ' From Greenland's icy mountains,' and 
the words, * From many an ancient river, from many 
a palmy plain,' seemed to come home with double 
force, to stimulate us with renewed zeal for our work 
of delivering the heathen from error's chain." 

Another toilsome month was spent in covering the 
sixty miles between Kazungula and Sesheke, as the 
road had first to be opened up. Part of the way led 
through a steaming marshy plain in which roamed 
thousands of animals, from the buffalo to the smallest 
antelope, and part through a tsetse-infested forest, 
abounding in lions, one of which killed a donkey, 
within a hundred feet of where Waddell was sleeping 
under a waggon. But Sesheke was reached in safety, 
and on the 24th September, 1885, a year and nine 
months after their departure from Leribe, the first 
Mission station was formally opened on the Zambesi. 
Within another month Coillard and Waddell hoped 
to be on their way to the Upper Valley, in order to 
reach Sefula before the rainy season, but another 
cause of delay was at hand. 



CHAPTER V 

PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 

SOMETHING must now be said of the Land and 
People to which this Pioneer Mission had come. 
The country of the Barotsi is an immense tract, nearly 
as large as the German Empire, stretching for 300 
miles along both sides of the Zambesi. It is for the 
most part a dried-up lake, little better than a swamp, 
and reeks with malaria. Four months every year the 
Valley is flooded to the depth of five to eight feet, by 
the rise of the Zambesi, from the rains in the higher 
reaches of the river, and the natives betake themselves 
to mounds and low hills, where they cultivate their 
gardens. But as soon as the water subsides, they 
return to the evil-smelling swamps they love. " They 
are crocodiles," said their king of them. 

At the time Waddell came to the country, the 
Barotsi nation consisted of some twenty tribes, 
Matolelas, Batokas, Mangete, &c., all living in a state 
of slavery to the Barotsi tribe, whose chief seat was 
in the Upper Valley. They could call nothing, not 
even their wives and children their own, and were 
constantly liable to have them taken from them. The 
social fabric was a highly organised system in which 
each tribe, and each member of a tribe, had his 
assigned place, but all existed for the benefit of the 
58 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 59 

paramount tribe, who, as the only freemen, were the 
aristocrats and tyrants of the land, and lived from the 
labours and the tribute of the lower tribes. The 
Barotsi were all chiefs of different degrees, and the 
government was in their hands. This system still 
continues to a large extent, although in July, 1906, 
the slaves were legally emancipated. 

The first man to visit the Valley was Dr. Living- 
stone, whose coming in 1850 made a deep impression. 
Endless stories, many of them legendary, are told 
about the marvellous doctor. He could light gun- 
powder on a man's hand by means of a little glass ; he 
could bring up all the nations of the earth, and make 
them pass through a little hole before their eyes. 
The people who travelled with him always ended by 
saying, " Ngaka (the doctor) — ah ! he was not a man 
like any other, he was a god." 

When Livingstone passed through the Valley, the 
Barotsi were vassals to a Basuto tribe, the Makololo, 
who had imposed their language on the country 
and otherwise strongly influenced it. Sebitoane, a 
Makololo warrior, whose chieftainship had been 
disputed in his own country, had fought his way north 
to the Zambesi, and established himself there some 
thirty years previously. It was at a time when the 
Barotsi, who are not a warrior nation, but prefer to 
attain their ends by other means, were being sorely 
pressed by the fighting Matabele. They invited the 
protection of Sebitoane and his warriors, who settled 
down amongst them, and the Barotsi became their 
servants. Sebitoane was a wise ruler as well as a 
warrior, and the land prospered under his sway. 

He greatly impressed Livingstone, and gave him a 



60 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

parting request to send missionaries to his country. 
When Livingstone returned home he told of the 
interesting people he had found, and urged that they 
should be evangelised. Great enthusiasm was evoked, 
a large sum of money collected, and in 1859 an expedi- 
tion started, under the charge of Messrs. Helmore and 
Price. But in the interval Sebitoane died, and his 
son, Sekeletu became a traitor. The expedition was 
robbed, and all the members died, some say by 
poison, except Mr. Price, who escaped with two of 
Mr. Helmore's children. 

On his return to the Zambesi Livingstone spoke 
with great indignation. " You have killed and 
plundered the servants of God whom you invited to 
your country, and the judgment of God will fall on 
you." The prophecy was speedily fulfilled. On the 
death of Sekeletu in 1866 a quarrel ensued over the 
succession, the Barotsi of the Upper Valley took 
advantage of it and massacred the Makololo to a man. 
To this day Livingstone's prophecy is often quoted, 
and the Christians among the Bechuanas and 
Bamangwatoes put the question, " Where are now the 
powerful Makololo ; has not God avenged the death 
of His servants?" 

Things did not go so well with the Barotsi after the 
destruction of their protectors, for if the Makololo had 
chastised them with whips, the Barotsi chief, Sepopa, 
who now became king, chastised them with scorpions. 
It was said that the crocodiles at Sesheke became fat 
with feeding on his wives and others whom he threw 
into the river. Another revolution brought about his 
death ; the next king met the same end, and then 
Lewanika marched through bloodshed to the throne. 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 61 

He pursued the same bloodthirsty policy as his 
predecessors, putting to death all enemies and possible 
rivals, and for years lived in constant dread of being 
bewitched or killed. 

At the time Coillard entered Barotsiland, Lewanika 
viras in exile, and Akufuna, the puppet of the revolu- 
tionists, on the throne, but hardly had they settled in 
Sesheke when the news arrived that Lewanika had re- 
appeared, fighting his way back to power, Akufuna 
had fled, and the whole country was again thrown into 
a ferment The chiefs in Sesheke scattered, the 
supporters of Akufuna, including the Morantsiane, 
taking to the forest, and the friends of Lewanika, 
ensconscing themselves on an island. The place was 
deserted, and terror stalked through the land. In such 
circumstances mission work was practically impossible. 
The minds of the people were too distracted with war 
to give any heed to a gospel of peace and good-will. 
Coillard decided therefore to abandon his intention for 
the present of going higher up the Valley, and to 
remain in Sesheke and wait events. 

The first days of the missionaries at Sesheke were 
trying and dangerous in the extreme. They had 
fightings without and fears within. A state of anarchy 
prevailed. As there was no king, each man did what 
seemed right in his own eyes. Drinking went on day 
and night. Sometimes drunken chiefs would force 
their way into the Mission and refuse to go. The 
missionaries were robbed on every hand. " While the 
country is without any authorised government," writes 
Waddell, " the thieves take advantage of the situation. 
They steal everything whether it is of value or not. 
Tools, clothes, sheep, chickens, oxen, everything 



62 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

disappears. Slaves steal for their masters. Our very 
workmen help their friends who come about." 

Then they suffered no less from wild beasts. "As 
the village is deserted, it has become the haunt of 
leopards and hyaenas. The hyaenas have become so 
bold, and come so near, that they run against our tent 
ropes. The crocodiles have carried away our pigs, 
dogs, and goats. They are so thick in the river that 
animals and people alike are sure to be caught if they 
stand for a moment at the edge of the water. The 
other day a woman was caught by the leg ; she held 
on by a tree and the crocodile went off with her leg." 
Waddell himself had a narrow escape from a crocodile 
which he came upon suddenly, as it lay basking on the 
river-bank. Fortunately he startled it, but "of the two," 
he says, " I think I got the bigger fright." 

Notwithstanding the troubles, he proceeded in the 
best of spirits to the clearing of the station and the 
building of mission-houses, going into the forest 
with native boys and hewing down trees. " It is 
interesting to go with the natives into the forest," he 
writes. " What amuses me most is the use they find 
for bark. It is not only used for medicine ; they make 
use of it for many primitive, domestic articles. They 
are never at a loss for a dish in which to put the honey 
they find. As trees with knobs are plentiful, they chop 
a piece of bark off at a knob, and at once they have a 
hollow dish. If they are caught in a storm, they chop 
off a large piece of bark and protect their thick, woolly 
hair with a newly-made umbrella. This same kind of 
bark is bent round like a flexible plank, another piece 
is used for a bottom, holes are pierced through with 
an assegai, and sewn together with cords of inner 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 6S 

bark, and a basket for carrying corn is made with 
handle complete in a few minutes." 

An event that brightened the first weeks was the 
prospective marriage of Mr. Jeanmairet, who had, in 
the meantime, become engaged to one of the party, 
Elise Coillard, niece of Mr. Coillard. As Sesheke 
was to be their home, Waddell set himself with zest 
to help Jeanmairet to erect a suitable house to which 
to bring his bride. The home was not ready when 
the wedding day arrived, but it passed off with great 
eclat. A waggon-sail was thrown across the rafters 
of the unfinished house, the rough walls decorated 
with palms and creepers, and here, in the presence of 
the Morantsiane and a company of native guests, who 
had ventured to appear, the ceremony was performed. 
The bride wore a white muslin dress of her own mak- 
ing, and carried a bouquet of wild-flowers. There 
were no bridesmaids, for Mrs. Coillard was the only 
European lady in the country. After the service 
they retired to a tent, where the dinner was served 
and the bride cut up the wedding cake, baked by 
her own hands. It was the first Christian marriage in 
the land, and Coillard wished to make it as instructive 
as possible for the natives. But so little conception 
had they of conjugal love that he had to explain to 
them what a marriage meant. In the evening a magic- 
lantern entertainment was given, which sent them 
into fits of laughter when they recognised any familiar 
objects on the screen. But still greater was the effect 
produced by the letting off of some fireworks, which 
recalled to many the wonderful tales of Livingstone. 
" It is the gun of Molimo " (God), cried one, as 
he saw a rocket flying in the direction of the 



^4 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

adherents of the opposite party, "and it will kill them 
on the island." So the happy day went past, and the 
young married couple took up their abode in a round 
hut until their house should be ready. 

Waddell next gives us a picture of his own home 
surroundings. " In my square hut of ten feet by ten 
I have put up a bench. My bed is on the one side and 
my bench is on the other. It is not very bedroom-like, 
with the floor all covered with shavings, but I get it 
cleared out for the Day of Rest. My bench makes a 
good writing-table, which is a great luxury to me, 
after having written all my letters on my knees since 
leaving Leribe. So with a box for a seat, and bench 
for a desk, I am as comfortably seated as the clerk of 
state." 

The natives were greatly interested in his work, which 
was far more attractive to them than the preaching of 
Coillard. " The windows especially are a great amuse- 
ment to the natives," he writes, " as they can see them- 
selves. Such a thing as a mirror they have never seen 
before. They go into fits of laughter when they see 
their own mouth and eyes for the first time, and it is 
a great wonder to them to see the river and trees in 
the house when they are at their back." 

But he was not merely content to work with his 
hands. In spare hours in the evening he would take 
the native boys into his hut and seek to teach them. 
"Although I feel tired after my day's work at the 
bench," he writes, " yet this draws me closer to the 
boys, and unconsciously they are teaching me 
Sekololo, while I teach the letters and syllables. So 
the hour is a very pleasant one." Mr. Coillard and 
the other missionaries had the advantage of knowing 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 65 

from the first the language principally spoken, which 
is the same as that of Basutoland (Sesuto), an 
advantage that prevented many misunderstandings 
and probably saved their lives in those early days of 
peril, but Waddell had slowly to acquire it through 
daily intercourse. In those days also he began to 
realise the full difficulty of mission work. At home 
he had loved to sing, as he reminds his mother in a 
letter we have referred to — 

" Go sound the trump on every shore, 
And bid the heathen weep no more." 

But face to face with hard fact, he found that the 
heathen was not weeping, and had little desire for 
the Gospel beyond the material advantages of educa- 
tion and progress which it might bring. 

" Some Sundays we have congregations of from 
two to three hundred under the tree at the station," 
he writes, " and if Mr. Coillard's sermons were not 
attractive, he could hardly get them to sit. Many 
people think that all a missionary has to do is to 
preach to people anxious to hear and to believe. 
But it is quite the opposite, for one of the hardest 
tasks is to get their attention. An ox, dog, or bird 
will distract their minds, and, if perchance, a 
stranger pass by, one and another will get up to 
salute him. Then at the end of the service they will 
say, ' We have listened well, now give us a handker- 
chief or a cloth,' Sometimes I think Mr. Coillard's 
words reach the hearts of some of the old 
chiefs. He never flinches to tell them they are the 
worst liars and murderers he has come across, and at 

times I see them putting their heads between their 
5 



G6 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

knees, as if the truth was cutting them to the 
quick. But it is difficult to arouse their dead con- 
sciences." 

No mission field has proved more hard and un- 
yielding than this, whose opening up we are following 
in our story. Born optimist though he was, Coillard 
once wrote : " I confess that I am sometimes stupefied 
when I see the aspect under which the Barotsi dis- 
play human nature. Hitherto I have witnessed 
nothing like it." Even now, after nearly twenty-five 
years, and the sacrifice of many lives, the foundations 
of the Church are only being laid. It has produced 
some noble characters, and bids the missionaries not 
despair, but the moral life of the people remains a 
sink of corruption which cannot bear description. 
They possess all the savage traits and superstitions 
of the Matabele, and are far more treacherous. Clever 
with their hands beyond most native races in all 
kinds of craftsmanship, and smooth and plausible of 
tongue, they are at the very bottom of the moral 
scale. " As for morals," writes Waddell, " the Barotsi 
have none. They have no home as we understand 
the word. An old man will throw away the wife of 
his youth to make room for a younger. Many of 
their cruelties are too awful to relate. If children 
are in any way deformed or weak, they think nothing 
of throwing them into the river. If a baby cuts its 
upper teeth first, it is reckoned bewitched and thrown 
to the crocodiles." 

It seemed impossible to awaken any response of 
love or gratitude. "They will do nothing for 
nothing," he writes, " and as little as they can for the 
value of sixpence. In Basutoland native boys are 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI G7 

fond of doing little messages for the Mission ladies, but 
here they are very independent. When Mrs. Coillard 
asked one to go to the river to fetch some water, his 
answer was, ' What will you give me ? ' They even 
sent our boat adrift, and demanded money for bring- 
ing it back again." " We can see daily," he adds, 
" that we have come to a hard field. It looks as if 
we shall have to work for years digging out the 
weeds and preparing the soil, before it will be fit to 
receive the good seed." 

While the counter-revolution lasted, the station 
became neutral ground, and the chiefs of rival parties 
would meet and sit together, joking, and taking snuff, 
like the best of friends, but at nightfall they would 
seize their arms and flee in opposite directions. So 
the missionaries came to see a good deal of what was 
going on. Not many months after the Mission was 
opened, Lewanika won his way back to power, 
carried out a systematic and ruthless massacre of all 
his enemies, including the hostile chiefs at Sesheke, 
and the country began to quieten down. He sent an 
urgent message to Coillard to visit him at his capital, 
Lealui, 380 miles up the Zambesi. This was easier 
said than done, for it was a journey by river, past 
many rapids, and through a land of assassins. But 
taking his life in his hand, he started off, travelling 
by canoe with the chief who had carried out the 
Sesheke massacres, and arrived in safety at the 
King's Village (March, 1886). Lewanika having 
taken the measure of his man, showed him every 
kindness, and consulted with him regarding the found- 
ing of a station at Sefula. As Lealui, his present 
capital, had become devastated during the recent 



68 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

disturbance, he promised to remove the King's 
Village to Sefula, a promise which, like many 
another, he never carried out. Coillard was impressed 
by the friendliness of the king, although he had 
learned by experience to lay small stress on the fair 
words of a Morotsi.* 

The king's sister and co-ruler, Queen Mokwae, 
more a monster than a woman, whose hands were 
dyed with human blood, impressed him far less 
favourably. After a visit of some duration, he 
returned to Sesheke, promising to move to Sefula as 
soon as practicable. The Zambesi having risen, how- 
ever, it was out of the question to think of it until the 
beginning of the next year at least. 

Meantime Waddell went on with his labours in 
securing a comfortable station at Sesheke. Day 
after day he went into the woods with his native 
boys, searching for timber, and began to gain that 
remarkable influence over them for which he was 
noted. One incident will illustrate the way in which 
he drew out their affections. Overcome by weariness 
one day in the forest, he lay down on the ground and 
fell fast asleep. When he awoke he found that the 
boys had collected branches and formed them in a 
bower over his head to protect him from the rays of 
the mid-day sun. Love wins love even on the Zambesi. 

His fine marksmanship also won their unbounded 
admiration. One incident especially, which surprised 
himself no less than them, gained him the fame of 
being a wizard. In shooting an ox, the bullet passed 
right through the beast's forehead, struck a tree 

* Mo-rotsi, singular of Ba-rotsi ; language, Se-rotsi. So 
Mo-suto, Ba-suto, Se-suto. 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 69 

behind, and rebounded, falling at his feet. He knelt 
down, picked up the bullet, and put it in his pocket. 
The story passed from lip to lip as a marvel worthy 
of Livingstone. " He shot the ox right on the fore- 
head," the natives would say, " called the bullet back, 
and put it in his pocket." " They little know," says 
Waddell, "the fright I got when I saw it strike the 
ground and throw up the sand, and if ever I shoot 
another ox, I shall see that there are no trees behind." 

His life was full of daily risks and adventures, but 
he seems hardly to have known what fear was. One 
can well understand the charm this had for the 
natives who love above all a brave man. He records 
the riskiest of experiences in the most careless and 
light-hearted fashion. " The other night, when leav- 
ing the dining-room to retire to my cabin, I heard a 
strange noise close to the door, and on striking a light 
I saw a large puff-adder charging the cat. A stick 
not being at hand, I shot it by holding the light in 
my hand, along with the gun." 

But of all the trials of the country, the most trying 
seems to be an invasion of soldier-ants. The follow- 
ing quotation will close our account of the life at 
Sesheke : — " As the river is now rising, the dark red 
soldier-ants are shifting their quarters to higher 
ground. Of all the insects I know, they are the most 
terrible, especially when they invade and attack, as 
they did the other night. I was asleep when the 
attack came, and in agony I left my hut, took refuge 
by the boys' fire at the cattle kraal, rid myself of 
those in my hair, and sat till they had left my cabin. 
The next morning the talk was all of the invasion. 
Mr. and Mrs. Jeanmairet had sat several hours on the 



70 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

table waiting their march past, while Mr. Coillard in 
his house had killed a tiny snake, and was amused to 
see the ants drag it off. They are very interesting 
and quite a study, but to us their absence is good 
company, for after one visit we have quite enough. 
It is marvellous how smart they are, and how they 
get a piece of meat suspended from the roof They 
make all manner of ropes and ladders by hanging on 
to each other, and many are sacrificed for the general 
good. In the morning they can be traced for half a 
mile in proper marching order, carrying all kinds of 
caterpillars and white ants. One or two of our fowls 
sitting on eggs were attacked. They sat still until it was 
too late, and succumbed to the soldiers, which covered 
them, getting into their eyes and other tender parts. 
I have heard that one of the tortures inflicted here on 
a man condemned for witchcraft is to tie him near a 
nest of those ants. A more painful death could 
hardly be conceived." 

In August, 1886, nearly a year after their arrival at 
Sesheke, the start was made for Sefula, and two 
months were occupied in covering the 350 miles. It 
was a long and wearisome journey through sand, 
forest, bog, lake, and river. It was the first time that 
waggons had gone that way, and much of the road 
had to be cut. All the old toils of loading and off- 
loading were gone through again. Waggons over- 
turned in passing through rivers, the raw savages 
hired, unaccustomed to so exhausting labour, 
threatened to mutiny, and Coillard and Waddell 
required all their faith and courage to carry the 
journey through. Here is a glimpse from one of 
Coillard's letters : " It was three in the afternoon, 



PIONEERING AMONG THE BAROTSI 71 

Waddell looked as white as a sheet ; he staggered, 
and I thought he was going to faint. I then re- 
membered that we had had nothing to eat since the 
the evening before." A large part of the road along 
the Loanje River had to be covered by night on 
account of the tsetse, the oxen being driven on to 
islands by day, which, strangely, are free from its 
ravages. Waddell's description of this insect, so fatal 
to cattle in those forest belts, where it prevails, is 
interesting. " At the village of Kalangu, situated in 
the middle of the fly belt, we had an opportunity of 
examining those wonderful insects. Though they 
alighted on our coats, we found them difficult to 
catch. Their bite, though it smarts, is not worse than 
the green-headed flies, and one wonders that they are 
so fatal to cattle. They much resemble a house-fly, 
being very little larger. They have crossed wings 
that extend over the body, which is similar in colour 
to a honey bee, with yellowish cross bars and stripes. 
The natives say they follow the buffalo and breed in 
its dung. If such is the case, they may die out with 
the buffalo." 

On the 29th of September, while they were 
encamped for the Sunday, a beautiful eclipse of the 
sun was witnessed which caused no little fright 
among the natives. " Yo ! we are all dead men," they 
cried. At last, on the nth of October, Sefula was 
reached. " On getting up the sand-hill," says Waddell, 
"we out-spanned the oxen, very thankful that our 
long and wearisome journey had come to an end, and 
after nearly three years of wandering, we had at last 
reached the promised land of Barotsi." 

They had little more than settled down, when 



72 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Levvanika appeared to bring his greetings to the 
missionaries. " On the following day his majesty came 
on horseback to see us, and before his arrival we could 
hear his praises raised by the people re-echo through 
the forest. On arriving, we greeted him in European 
fashion by shaking hands, and while Mr. Coillard gave 
him a chair, our Sesheke people kept carefully moving 
forward, clapping hands and shouting ' Taii-tona ' 
(' great lion ') until they assembled in a row, when 
they put up their hands and shouted three times, ' Yo- 
sho' the royal salutation. Then they knelt and 
rubbed each cheek in the sand. The clapping of hands 
only ceased for a second, while they spread before 
his majesty their offering of skins. All the time 
his majesty took no notice of the palaver, being more 
taken up with our turkey-cock, which had also come 
to salute in turkej'^ fashion. Being roused by the 
commotion, he appeared quite indignant, and when 
all was quiet he sailed past his majesty with an 
independent air, and much pomp and pride, perhaps 
thinking, like Lewanika, there was not his equal in all 
the world. His majest)' being interested in turkeys, 
we took him to the court and showed him our fowls. 
Then he had a look at the interior of Mr. Coillard's 
waggon. He made himself generally agreeable, and 
looked quite a gentleman in his grey suit." 



CHAPTER VI 

ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 

WADDELL was not long in getting a taste of the 
life that was awaiting him in Sefula. Weary 
with the commotion of the king's visit he lay down to 
sleep in a shelter of branches, which he had made to 
screen his head from the wind, but was roused by the 
cry of a fowl, as if caught by a thief. On going to 
the cart he could see nothing, and returned to his 
shelter. He had hardly lain down when the cry was 
repeated, and this went on two or three times in 
succession, with about ten minutes between each cry. 
"Then I lost patience," he writes, "took up my bed 
in the moonlight, and made it down beside the cart, 
and was no sooner laid down than I saw a leopard come 
crouching to the cart, and while it was smacking its 
lips, and preparing to spring at another, I fired and 
shot it in the side. Then the natives turned out, and 
in their savage way each threw an assegai at the 
brute, much to my annoyance, as they completely 
perforated the beautiful skin. And they made such 
a noise discussing their bravery, that I felt as if 
I was entirely out of it." 

The first days were spent in erecting temporary 
kraals to secure the animals against attack from the 
hyaenas and leopards which roamed in numbers even 

73 



74 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

by day, in sight of the station, and then Waddell had 
leisure to survey his new surroundings. Sefula, 
which was to be his home for the next six years, is a 
valley, from two or three hundred yards to a mile in 
breadth, opening into the Barotsi Valley on the west, 
with the Sefula stream flowing through it to the 
Zambesi, and forming a marsh, in the jungle of which 
leopards, snakes, and all manner of loathsome creatures 
abound. The valley is dotted over with native 
villages, inhabited for the most part by lower tribes, 
chiefly Ma-Mbundas and Mangete, with here and 
there a village of Barotsi aristocrats. During the 
annual inundation it is flooded, and the people living 
on mounds communicate with each other and with the 
Capital by canoe. But even in the dry season the 
soil is so wet and spongy, that a walking-stick can be 
pushed down with ease, and a hot, unhealthy steam 
rises every day from the ground. The spot which 
Coillard had chosen for his station was comparatively 
healthy, on the top of a wooded sand-hill, seventy 
feet above the stream, and commanded a wide 
view of the whole Zambesi valley. " Standing on the 
brow of Sefula hill," writes Waddell, " one gets a good 
view of the extent of the Barotsi Valley, which is a 
dreary sight ; the vast plain of withered grass being 
only broken by a few motata (india-rubber) trees, that 
have been planted on the mounds to indicate the 
graves of Barotsi chiefs. We can see the valley up 
and down for miles and right across to the other side, 
some thirty miles distant. The Zambesi, though 
flowing through it, cannot be seen, as the water is too 
low, but I am told that during the inundation a stranger 
could not tell the channel of the river, as the valley 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 75 

is then a perfect lake. But unless in deep places, the 
long grass waves on the surface of the water. The 
people live in wretched huts, built on the peaty 
ground, surrounded by their gardens, in which they 
cultivate millet, mealies, pumpkins, and manioc." 

At the time they arrived in the Valley, the fields lay 
uncultivated, and the people were starving. The 
whole country bore evidence of the recent warfare. 
The bones of the slain lay scattered over the valley, 
after having been picked by the jackals and leopards, 
and then by the fish during the inundation. " In such 
conditions," says Waddell, " in a tropical country, no 
one would dispute the unhealthiness of this valley. 
But the Barotsi are fond of it, not only from a military 
point of view, but also for its agricultural products 
and its pasture, which supplies the cattle all the year 
round except for the three months of the inundation, 
when they are driven to the high-lands." 

Every step bore trace of the low moral condition 
of the people among whom he had come. "The 
meaning of Sefula I cannot say," he writes, "but it is 
nothing short of a Golgotha, skulls and bones of un- 
fortunate wretches, recently burned for witchcraft, 
are strewn up and down." Waddell was under no 
delusion as to the nature of the task they were come 
to face. " The minds and hearts of those people are 
so dead and dormant, that they are like the wild 
brushwood that has been growing around for aught we 
know, from the very creation, multiplying year by year, 
and sending its long roots farther into the ground. 
Attempting to plough through such roots would be the 
height of madness and folly. Many pick-axes will 
probably be broken and destroyed ere the plough can 



76 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

turn the fallow ground." He himself was to become 
one of those broken pick-axes that would prepare for 
the coming of the plough. 

He had now to face the gigantic task of building a 
whole mission station, houses, church, &c., in one of 
the deadliest climates of the world. Every plank he 
used had to be cut from the native trunk with a hand- 
saw. Add to this, the daily battle with hyaenas, 
leopards, and snakes, and the more or less constant 
fight with fever, and we have some idea of the enormous 
difficulties he had to encounter. 

His first work, after some temporary native huts had 
been erected, was to build a house for Mr. and Mrs. 
Coillard. Mrs. Coillard had been left behind at 
Sesheke, and as soon as Coillard had seen his party 
settled, he returned to fetch her, and also Aaron, one 
of the Basuto evangelists, who was to assist him at 
Sefula, the other remaining in Sesheke. " God bless 
you, and make you strong," were his parting words to 
Waddell, and they cheered him on during the lonely 
days of separation. His only companion was X., 
whose indolence and strangeness of manner made him 
more of a burden than a help. 

Having hired some native boys, he set out for the 
forest and made a beginning. Very soon he obtained 
a knowledge of the open sore of the land, the tyranny 
of the Barotsi. For let a man be but a hireling wood- 
cutter, if he was a Morotst, he considered himself a 
lord of creation, and treated all other natives as dogs. 
" They think nothing of helping themselves to the best 
these poor people have," writes Waddell. " When they 
travel, they simply go into a Mangete village, and not 
only demand food, but make the women cook it ; and 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 77 

they think little of taking a whip to an old man, 
sending him off for firewood, and afterwards compelling 
him to go part of the way and carry the load. And 
if, perchance, there is girl about, they take her away, 
and she is enslaved for the rest of her life." 

" I have only to look round among the heathen," he 
adds, " to see what hard labour we have before us, but 
ought we not to rejoice, as Mr. Coillard says, that ' it 
hath pleased God to choose us, unworthy creatures, to 
a post the very angels of heaven envy ' ? And is it not 
an honour to be permitted to obey the Lord's last 
command, ' Go ye and teach all nations ' ? We are 
amongst savages of the very lowest type, caring for 
nothing but what satisfies the cravings of their fleshly 
lusts. Nevertheless, I love them, not because of any 
virtue in them, but for the sake of Him who died for 
them, as well as for us. And although it is not my lot 
to preach, and a thing I cannot do, yet I hope, while 
working with and among them, that my life and 
example will help to mould them to the likeness of 
our Lord and Master." 

Within a few weeks the framework of the house was 
completed, and the thatching commenced. Grass was 
difficult to obtain, and women were hired with beads 
to gather it. " Our grass merchants," he writes, 
" are great cheats, putting reeds, sticks, green grass, 
and all manner of rubbish into the heart of their 
bundles. But after being deceived once or twice, we 
have got up to their dodges, and make them undo 
their bundles." 

It was Waddell's hope one day to have apprentices 
trained under his own hand, but he got the offer of 
some whom he was glad to dispense with. The wily 



78 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

kin^, casting an envious eye on his skill, despatched 
twelve elderly Barotsi from the capital, to learn from 
him, but they were politely sent back. "They would 
have been welcome to strain their eyes, gazing at our 
work, but we cannot afford to feed and pay them for 
doing nothing. We have no food, and no work for 
gentlemen, and they disdain the work of a hireling." 

But with his Mangete boys he got on splendidly 
from the start. They took to him, and were most 
willing to learn, but some things he could not get them 
to comprehend. One great handicap he had was the 
lack of scaffolding, as the cutting of planks for that 
purpose with a hand-saw would have cost as much 
labour as the building itself. " A stranger might say, 
why not put the natives to adze trees," he writes. 
" That we have tried, but they simply reduce the tree to 
almost the same round form. Being used to nothing 
but round work, they seem unable to get out of the 
habit, which has grown to be a second nature. To us 
it seems strange that they do not grasp at once the 
benefit of wood being squared." 

However, by the end of the year, the house was 
nearly ready, and on Christmas Day we find him 
busy putting the window and door frames together. 
" It is hard," he writes, " to realise that to-day is a 
holiday of rejoicing throughout Christendom, to com- 
memorate the birth of our Saviour. The boys don't 
ask for a holiday, or for a Christmas box, and have no 
conception of a holiday or a day of rejoicing. I hope, 
when Christmas comes again, they will be joining in our 
service of praise." 

During these early days, when he was clearing away 
the bush from the station, and sleeping in temporary 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 79 

quarters, he had many restless nights from leopards 
and hyaenas, and he describes a method by which 
more than one hyaena was secured. A loaded musket, 
with a piece of high meat tied to the muzzle, and 
attached by a string to the trigger, was placed on two 
forked sticks. Branches were then planted on each 
side, and bent over the barrel, leaving only room for 
the animal's head to enter. " As the hyaena is of a 
sneaking disposition he takes to it easily, and creeping 
up in the dark snaps at the meat, and blows his brains 
out." He had to keep a constant watchfulness over 
the poultry, not only against leopards, but against 
snakes, and one night, in killing a snake under a hen, 
he shot off the toes of the fowl, which lived for many 
years to display the marks of its narrow shave. New 
Year's Day (1887) found him still alone, "battling, " 
as he says, " between tropical rain and hot beams of 
sunshine, and finding it very hard to realise that at 
home it may be frost and snow." Three years had 
now run since he set out from Leribe, years of hard- 
ship, difficulty, and danger, and he records his grati- 
tude for his preservation in health and strength. " I 
am thankful that, in spite of repeated attacks of fever, 
I have always been well when most needed, and have 
been able to put up the necessary shelters for the 
comfort of God's servants, and if my labour has saved 
them one attack of fever, or perhaps their life, why, I 
ought to rejoice to have been permitted to do such 
work." 

Mrs. Coillard's arrival on the 12th of January was a 
great event in Sefula. People gathered from all parts 
to witness the unique event, for she was the first white 
woman to cross the Zambesi and enter Barotsiland. 



80 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

One after another went up to the waggon as it 
moved into Sefula, shouting, " We greet thee, princess, 
good morning, our mother " {^Shangive, Khosi, lumela 
via rond). Alighting from the waggon, she went to 
inspect the house that Waddell had almost ready for 
her, and expressed a wish to travel no more. 

All were eager to see the white people eat, and they 
crowded round the door, watching the strange folk who 
did not squat and eat off the ground, but sat, as they 
said, "on high stools and ate off a stage {palamalo)." 
" It was rather amusing," writes Waddell, " to over- 
hear them afterwards discuss how we lifted the food 
to our mouth. ' Cokey ' (split me), said one, ' they lift 
it with a short fish-spear, and not with their fingers.' 
' How white are their dishes ! ' said another. But the 
greatest discussion was about the white table-cloth, 
and how many native suits it would make." 

Very soon the king appeared to pay his respects to 
Mrs. Coillard, and to arrange for the sending of Prince 
Litia, the heir-apparent, and some of the other princes 
and sons of chiefs to the school which she hoped 
shortly, with the assistance of Aaron, to open. At first 
he was rather shy in her presence, and was somewhat 
taken aback at being invited to eat with her, but 
with a woman's cleverness she won him over by a 
cup of tea. 

This time he came in full royal splendour with 
his court fools and drummers who made night hideous. 
A clown, dressed in a hyaena's skin, imitated the cries 
and habits of the animal so perfectly that he deceived 
the very dogs. Through the night the drums went 
turn, turn, pausing only now and then, that the human 
hyaena might raise a shout to show his master that 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 81 

he was on the watch. " His majesty being so 
accustomed to the band," writes Waddell, " says that 
he cannot sleep without it. It may be so, but oh ! our 
heads in the morning. If we applauded that band 
once in the night, we wished it far enough, fifty times, 
and felt thankful that the station was a respectable 
distance from that horrid music." Waddell gives us 
a description of these musical instruments so essential 
to the king's rest. They consist of two drums and a 
Serimba. "The drums are tastefully carved out of a 
solid block of wood, in size and shape almost similar 
to the iron rollers used by farmers for turnip drills. 
They are slung over the drummers' necks like an 
ordinary drum. No sticks are used, but a clump of 
beeswax is plastered on the hands to prevent them 
from being blistered. The Serimba is a peculiar 
instrument difficult to describe. Ten pieces of hard, 
cross-grained sounding wood, varying from i8 inches 
to 9 inches in length, 3 inches broad, and f-inch 
thick, are fixed on, horizontally, across a frame, 4 feet 
long. Under the pieces of wood are tied ten 
gourds or calabashes, with the top ends cut off, 
making vases or cups, and differing in length, the 
longest being i foot, and the smallest 6 inches. The 
instrument weighs about 20 pounds, and the player 
carries it in front of him, and hammers away on the 
pieces of wood with two little drum-sticks, headed 
with native india-rubber. The sound is something 
between that of a banjo and a tambourine." 

Before he left, the king chose a place not more 
than 300 yards from Mr. Coillard's house, and gave 
orders for the building of huts for Litia and the young 
princes. 
6 



82 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Mr. Coillard and Aaron now began to visit in the 
surrounding country, and try to win the confidence 
of the people. As many as a hundred and fifty would 
gather on the Sunday (" the day one dies," they 
called it), though most, it is feared, came in the hope 
of reward. A new vexation arose with the arrival of 
a crowd of Barotsi from the capital, to build the 
houses for the princes. " These men simply behaved 
like brutes," writes Waddell, "to the poor Mangete 
who came from the Sefula Valley, with pumpkins and 
mealies, seeking a market at the Mission. Hardly 
were the articles off their shoulders, when the Barotsi 
made a rush and went off with them all. And if, 
perchance, the goods were sold, these Barotsi com- 
pelled them to do their work, and threatened to 
choke them if they refused. The Mangete knew too 
well what it is to be choked by a Morotsi, and 
offered no resistance. For a Morotsi is expert in the 
art of choking. Men and women all have had a trial 
of it, for their quarrels mostly end in choking. The 
very children are constantly saying to one another, 
' I will choke you if you do this or that' With the 
grown-up people it is no play, but one of their ways 
of torture. They allow their nails to grow to the 
length of eagles' claws, and sink them into the 
flesh until sometimes the victim succumbs." This of 
course had the effect of frightening the people away 
from the Mission, and frustrating all its work. 

It was no long time before the king reappeared 
with his drums and human hyaena to see the progress 
of affairs. This time there was added to the melody 
of the night the additional cry of qua ! qua ! that 
came from the throat " of an old human crow," who. 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 83 

says Waddell, " lives here and is well named, for not 
one of our poor oxen can die without this old fellow 
being about, but he makes himself scarce on 
Sundays." 

A favourite resort of Lewanika when he came to 
Sefula was Waddell's workshop, and Waddell had 
many opportunities of studying the strange mixture 
of good and evil in his nature. " While Lewanika 
is with us," he says, " it is hard to realise that he is 
such a savage, for there is something attractive in 
him. He has redeeming qualities. He is not a 
lover of strong drink. He has good tastes, and is a 
great carver of wooden utensils. He takes pleasure 
in planting trees, a thing almost unknown to a savage. 
He knows the various woods and their qualities 
better than any of his people. But morally he is no 
better than they. He lacks firmness of character, 
nay, he is as fickle and changeable as the weather. 
He can be cruel and wicked, and yet is affectionate 
and tender-hearted to his family or to a sick person. 
He is kind and merciful toward dumb animals. In 
intelligence he stands head and shoulders above his 
subjects. He has a good knowledge of the geography 
and history of his country, and is undoubtedly the 
best Barotsi statesman, although he is no orator. He 
is anxious, as he says, to learn to read, and to know 
about the laws of God. But the thirst of his nature 
is for money and the good things of this life. And 
although he likes sitting at table with us, it goes 
somewhat against the grain of his royal nature that 
the house and its contents are not his." 

Another visitor to the Mission who was not so 
welcome was Mokwae (queen) of Nalolo, Lewanika's 



84 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

sister and co-ruler. Her reputation had come before 
her, and it was an evil one, for she had had nine 
husbands, none of whom, it was said, had died a 
natural death. " My first impression," says Waddell, 
" was that she was as ugly as she was said to be 
wicked. She is a woman of about twenty stones in 
weight, and bears a strong family resemblance to the 
king. But she has neither the discretion nor the 
etiquette of her brother, and she brings with her a 
train of men and meddlesome girls who are worth 
the watching, as they are not above helping them- 
selves, and perhaps their royal mistress, to knives, 
forks, spoons, or anything they think they can con- 
ceal. Mokwae would like to appear great in our 
eyes, but it is not above her dignity to carry a piece 
of paper as a pin-cushion, in readiness for any pins 
she may find. She has an inquisitive and covetous 
eye, and must see into the heart of everything. 
Above all, she dearly likes to get into Mrs. Coillard's 
bedroom, in order to see herself in the glass." 

Her husband, a soft, submissive creature, accom- 
panied her. He dared not sit on her mat without 
permission, had to eat after her, and crouched beside 
her as if he were a dog. He was also forbidden to 
take a second wife like other chiefs. " Can you carve 
wood like the king?" Mrs. Coillard asked him. 
" No." " Can you make baskets or spears ? " " No." 
" And what can you do ? " "I can eat," he answered 
proudly. 

During these early days the Mission could do little 
more than maintain its hold, and the lives of the 
missionaries were in hourly danger. Nothing more 
was needed than the condemnation of a witch-doctor 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 85 

to bring about their deaths. Every day they saw men 
and women being burned for witchcraft, and they 
did not know when their own turn might come. 
"Cold-blooded murder with the Barotsi," writes 
Waddell, " is not so great a crime as bewitching ; 
indeed, it is the only crime they take special notice of. 
A murderer may escape punishment, but there is no 
rest in the nation if they think that a uioloi 
(sorcerer) is at large." Anything mysterious or super- 
natural is put down to witchcraft. A boy with a 
bent arm says he is bewitched. If a woman has a 
deformed or still-born child, she believes she has been 
bewitched. If a hunter is not successful, it is because 
someone has bewitched his gun. If a man has a cow 
that does not calve for two or three years in succession, 
someone has bewitched it. He goes to the witch- 
doctors, generally of the Ma-Mbunda tribe. • " These 
crafty old rascals," writes Waddell, " take the job in 
hand for a big fee (in many cases a slave) to find out 
the sorcerer. If they do not already know of some 
hated person, they wait to hear. Then with a basket 
of dice, composed of all manner of bones, parings of 
nails, claws, web-feet, &c., they pretend to have dis- 
covered the man, who is then brought before the 
lekhothla (tribunal). They take a fowl and test it 
with moati (poison ordeal), and if it dies, the man is 
guilty." Punishment follows speedily. " The victim 
is placed astride a pole above the flames, and the 
crowd watch and curse the poor wretch as he burns. 
From this practice comes the dreadful oath, cokey 
(may I split). This word is in everyday use as 
an expression of surprise, but it is also a dreadful 
curse, and people have been known to burst a 



86 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

blood-vessel and die through the fright of this 
oath." 

All through this anxious time Waddell pursued his 
building, and by-and-by the place began to have the 
appearance of a mission station. With his own hands 
he built a dwelling-house, a study, a kitchen, a store- 
house, and a workshop. He came to see the rare 
approach that was got to the native mind through the 
industrial side of mission work. If the people could 
not yet appreciate the gospel of Coillard, they had a 
very real appreciation of the gospel of Waddell. 
" They have their pottery," he writes, " but they see 
ours, and know that it is better. They have 
earthen pots, but ours are iron ; they see our 
enamelled dishes that will not break, and our tinned 
meat and milk, which are a perfect mystery to them. 
They look through our glass windows, touch them, 
and look at each other with a look of amazement, 
saying, ' The missionaries are people of God truly.' 
They see and feel the power of our medicines. They 
see me sawing, planing, and boring holes without the 
use of burning irons. All are powerful lessons to give 
them faith in the missionary's teaching, and a grand 
argument against their superstitions and beliefs in 
sorceries and witch-doctors." We do not wonder 
that Waddell came to be known among the natives as 
Gaiiguro (the man who knows all works). 

The opening of the school by Mrs. Coillard, and the 
coming of Prince Litia, and the other noble youths 
from the Capital, confronted the Mission with a 
problem which perplexes it down to the present day. 
The people of Sefula could not be got to send their 
children to the same school as their masters attended ; 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 87 

they could not believe that what was for the Barotsi 
could be for them ; and besides, they feared that their 
children would be ordered to live with them, which 
meant, to be their slaves. The king also saw no use 
in the lower tribes receiving education, but wanted to 
reserve all its benefits for the Barotsi. " What is the use 
of teaching those black things of the forest ? " he said 
to Coillard, speaking of the people of the Sefula Valley. 
Through this tyranny of the borena (ruling class) the 
missionaries have experienced all through the greatest 
difficulty in getting into touch with the lower tribes. 

In other ways the presence of the princes proved a 
source of endless worry. Lewanika made no provision 
for their board, but left them to supply themselves by 
robbing the people of the surrounding country, which 
they proceeded to do with a will. Litia's bodyguard 
waylaid the natives bringing corn, &c., for sale, to the 
Mission, and took without payment whatever they 
needed, claiming it as their right. The result was 
that the people ceased to come, and Mrs. Coillard was 
in distress to find daily food for the household. The 
princes next turned their attention to the Mission 
storehouse and garden, and what they did not get 
they stole, or their attendants stole for them. " Also, 
I dare not turn my back without shutting my shop 
door," writes Waddell, " for they are constantly help- 
ing themselves to tools, nails, or anything they want. 
And the worst of it is, my two men would never dare 
to say ' no ' if a prince asked for anything. There is 
nothing that pleases a Zambesian like the flattery of 
a prince, and they think themselves highly favoured 
to steal for the young princes." There was of course 
no redress, not even acknowledgment, unless they were 



88 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

caught red-handed. "King David said in his haste, 
' All men are liars,' says Waddell, " but had he lived 
here, he might have said it at his leisure. Lies seem 
more natural to the Barotsi than truth, and we have 
noticed, if they tell the truth, that it is more by 
mistake than good intention," 

These young bloods kept the people not only from 
sending their children, and bringing their produce, but 
even from coming to the Sabbath service, lest they 
should be attacked. The worries of the school 
undermined the health of Mrs. Coillard and hastened 
her end. Waddell had also troubles, specially his 
own, in his building labours. He met with a constant 
source of annoyance in the white ants and boring 
beetles, which followed up his work at every step. 
Hardly was the house completed when the ants, "which 
stick at nothing short of metal, glass, and pottery," 
were busy in the walls and thatch sending down 
showers of dust, and peppering the very food on the 
table. The boring beetles commenced in the rafters, 
rendering some of them completely useless after a 
short time. This compelled him to make a thorough 
study of the various woods, and we find among his 
papers a tabulated list of some thirty different kinds, 
with those especially noted that offer most resistance 
to the " borers." 

Having finished the necessary dwelling and out- 
houses, he proceeded to the most laborious task of all, 
the building of the church. The work had again and 
again to be left to attend to other calls, for, as he says, 
on a new mission station, " everything is wanted 
sooner than immediately," but by November, 1888, 
little more than two years after their arrival, he had 



ARDUOUS YEARS AT SEFULA 89 

completed the framework, and commenced the 
thatching. " It is a big work for a white man," he 
writes, " under an African sun, but I thank God for 
health and strength. Mr. and Mrs. Coillard come 
round occasionally and cheer me on with a word of 
encouragement. ' It looks better from above than from 
beneath,' I said to Mrs. Coillard. * That's right,' she 
said. ' May we and our work always look better 
from above.' We need encouragement in a land like 
this, and if it were not the thought of working for the 
One above, with an occasional word of encourage- 
ment from one another, the work would become 
intolerable." 

But he was never satisfied to be merely an artisan, 
diffident as he might be about his gifts in any other 
direction. He returned to his old love and taught in 
the Sabbath School. " But I sometimes wish I could 
help in the way of preaching," he writes. " Not that I 
dislike my special calling, for how could the tabernacle 
have been built if the craftsmen had wanted to do 
Aaron's work ? But in a country like this, where each 
in turn has fever, and each must take his turn of 
nursing, the craftsman would almost need to have the 
qualities of the priest," 



CHAPTER VII 

AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE 

THE comfortable home-dweller likes to sit and 
dream of the romance of missions, but to the 
man in the field it is wearing, monotonous work, which 
nothing but a strong faith in God can carry 
through ; and few missionaries have lived more labori- 
ous days than Waddell. He toiled on unrestingly, 
often with enfeebled body, and without a thought 
of self. Seventy pounds a year was his slender 
salary from the Mission, and half of that found 
its way back every year to the Mission treasury. 
His thoughts often turned to the homeland, 
especially in spring, which was so different on the 
Zambesi. "Nature smells of Spring," he writes, "but 
we miss the cuckoo and the singing of birds, for 
though there are plenty of birds with beautiful 
plumage, they do not sing." Again and again we 
meet this lament in his letters. " The natives never 
say a bird sings. Everything with them cries — birds, 
animals, and people, even the very kettle." Few posts 
penetrated to that lonely place, sometimes but one a 
year, and he heard little of the outside world ; but one 
sad letter from his brother George brought him the news 
of his father's death, which grieved him deeply. " I 
could read no more," he says, " and said good-night, 
and retired to be alone with God. Strange to say, 
90 



AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE 91 

next evening, on being asked along with others to put 
my hand in a box filled with texts on slips of paper, 
I found these comforting words on the one I picked, 
' I will be a Father unto you.' " This was the occasion 
of a very touching letter of comfort from Coillard to 
Waddell's mother in Scotland. " Have no anxiety 
about your son," he wrote. " He is a member of our 
little family. We love him, and he knows it. He is, 
I think, happy. He is certainly cheerful. And God 
honours him and blesses him. His part in the work 
is not a small one, and his presence with us has been 
one of the greatest blessings the Lord has granted us." 

Occasionally traders and hunters would come their 
way and enjoy their hospitality, but few showed any 
appreciation of their work. Mr. F. C. Selous, the 
African hunter, spent some days on their station, and 
entertained them with tales of his adventures. The 
arrival of three missionaries. Rev. and Mme. Louis Jalla 
and Dr. Dardier, to occupy other parts of the field 
brought new stimulus, but their posts were far distant, 
and within a short time Dr. Dardier succumbed to fever. 

Waddell hardly knew the name of holiday, but one 
diversion he greatly enjoyed was a visit to the Capital. 
Although it was his first visit, many faces were familiar, 
and from many whom he did not know he received the 
hearty greeting, " Lmnela, Ganguro " (" Good morning, 
Ganguro "). The king was very gracious, showed him 
all over his house, and handed him, in parting, a beauti- 
ful little battle-axe as a souvenir of his visit. 

But he was not sorry to get back to his quiet life at 
Sefula. "To have a headache at the Capital," he 
writes, " is not a wonder, as one gets so little sleep on 
account of the din from drums and dancing, in addition 



92 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

to the band of Lewanika. While we were there a big 
dance was held, which lasted all night, that the king 
might give them an ox to slaughter (a common 
practice), but I think any sane man would rather give 
them an ox to be quiet, for the dancing and clapping 
of hands, combined with the accompaniment of the 
drum, is enough to drive a sane man mad. No sleep, 
no rest, nay, as the night advanced, louder and louder 
grewthe chant, fiercer and fiercer the clapping of hands, 
till men and women alike seemed intoxicated, or de- 
mented. At daybreak I got up to see the dance which 
was still in full swing, with women singing or scream- 
ing, and clapping hands, and an elderly woman, wet 
with perspiration, beating the drum to about seventy 
excited men in kilts of leopards' and monkeys' tails." 

On his return to Sefula he found that the white ants 
had reduced all his books to powder, among them a 
Bible which his mother had given him on leaving for 
Africa, and which he greatly prized. 

To the other troubles of the land was added for a 
time a plague of mad dogs, from whose bite both 
cattle and people died, including a favourite minister 
of the king and two of the king's wives. Waddell 
succeeded in killing about twenty of them. " The 
last I killed was on Sunday, outside the kitchen door, 
while it was making a rush at the girls. On hearing 
the screams I rushed from the breakfast table, caught 
hold of a pestle, and clubbed it on the spot." He was, 
as Coillard said, " always ready for anything." 

The world he lived in, and the life that went on 
around, had for Waddell a consuming interest. Many 
pages of his journal are filled with descriptions of 
native pursuits, accompanied by drawings of their 



AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE 93 

tools and handiwork. His frank and open nature, 
and readiness for every emergency, as well as his 
wonderful skill, gained the admiration of the natives 
who delighted to show him their work, sure of a word 
of appreciation. He watched the women making 
their papyrus mats, moulding their pottery with the 
hand, weaving their baskets, spinning and weaving 
their rough cotton with a very primitive loom. 
" Perhaps none of their work deserves so much notice 
as their wicker-work," he writes. " They make a great 
variety of baskets from grasses and the split roots of 
trees, which they intertwine with dyed inner bark, 
making various artistic designs and colours on the 
.same basket. Some are almost close enough to hold 
water." He took a special interest in the iron-smelters, 
and went to see them at work i8 miles away, at 
Kataba. " They dig the ore from the bottom of the 
lake," he writes, " and erect a furnace, which is simply 
three holes in the ground two feet deep. The centre 
hole being the furnace is plastered with clay, the other 
two holes, about a foot on each side of the furnace, are 
for the bellows, which, when the furnace is charged 
with ore and charcoal, are kept blowing day and 
night until the iron is smelted and rendered malleable. 
The native bellows, like everything they possess, are 
very rude, being carved out of a block of wood, in 
appearance like two little pots or bowls, placed side 
by side, with spouts or tubes that run into each other 
at a distance of i8 inches. Skins are tied slackly 
over the bowls, and with a stick or handle, from the 
centre of each, a boy blows the fire by working them 
up and down, imitating and keeping time to the beat 
of the drum." But naturally it was the work of the 



94 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

native carpenters that attracted Waddell most, and 
rude though it was, it won his admiration. 

" Some examples of their round work," he writes, 
" are so very accurate that a novice could be made to 
believe they were turned on a lathe. And it is all 
done without a mark, far less a compass ; they simply 
chop away till the exterior is to their taste. Practi- 
cally their only tool is an adze, but in their hands it 
is a wonderful instrument, as it not only does the work 
of an axe and adze, but is plane, spokeshave, paring- 
chisel and mortise-iron combined. Hitherto their 
designs have all been handed down to them ; but they 
are great mimics, for we were no sooner in the country 
than they carved dishes and stools to imitate our 
waggons." He admired specially the woodwork of the 
king, which he thought surpassed that of any of his 
subjects, and speaks of an artistically carved dish he 
presented to Mrs. Coillard, which, save for an attempt 
to carve buffaloes on the lid, might have passed for 
the work of a skilled European. But his carpenter's 
heart was grieved at the extravagance of the native 
carpenters, who would often destroy a whole tree to 
make a single dish. The young princes on the 
station. Prince Litia especially, who had inherited 
his father's gift, spent much of their time in carving, 
and caused Waddell no small annoyance by their zeal. 
" Like all natives," he says, " they see no beauty in 
nature, and cut down the nearest tree to hand, regard- 
less whether it spoils the beauty of the place or not. 
Were it not that I acted as policeman, they would soon 
have all the trees on the station stunted or demolished." 

Each tribe in Lewanika's kingdom, he tells us, is 
noted for some particular craft, such as the Barotsi 



AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE 95 

for wood-carving and canoe-making, and the Ma- 
Mbundas for weaving, but the true craftsmen of the 
Valley are the poor despised Matolelas, whose special 
branch is iron-work. These people, besides being the 
blacksmiths of the Barotsi, are their hewers of wood 
and drawers of water. They have never been a 
fighting people, but they supply all the other tribes 
with weapons of war, such as spears, axes, and arrows, 
as well as agricultural tools. And now the intro- 
duction of the gun has opened to them new possi- 
bilities. With these Matolela blacksmiths Waddell 
struck up a hearty friendship, and greatly esteemed 
their skill. "As for making a gun-stock," he says, 
" no European could make one so well with the same 
tools ; and the strange thing is, that they never so 
much as line it off before starting. One day I was 
passing a smithy (which, by the way, is only a grass 
roof, 3 feet high), while one of the men was 
chopping away at a large piece of wood for a gun- 
stock. I asked him to give it to me, and placing it 
on my gun, took a piece of chalk from my pocket, 
and drew out the shape, much to their amusement. 
But they never would dream of doing such a thing 
themselves." In such ways Waddell endeared himself 
to the natives, who still talk of him and tell of the 
doings of Ganguro. But he could be firm too, and 
neither for king nor subject would he consent to 
repair a gun, or even put in a screw. He knew that 
if he once began, it would be a cause of endless 
trouble and jealousy, and in the face of almost daily 
pleading he resolutely refused. " They cannot under- 
stand why a great Ganguro like me cannot mend a 
gun, but the reason is that I won't." 



96 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Between him and the natives whom he hired as 
apprentices there grew up a specially close intimacy. 
They knew his kindness of heart, and when they had 
displeased him would drop upon their knees and clap 
their hands in his face, until they made him laugh, 
when they would say that his bahalli (temper) was 
not bad. But they knew also how far they might 
go. Beside him in his workshop lay his Bible, and 
often he would take it up and read a pointed text. 
The young princes also, Litia included, got many a 
straight word on their visits to his workshop. He 
had a special liking for the Book of Proverbs, which, 
he discovered, had many apt words for princes. 

One continual source of irritation was the frequency 
with which his apprentices were changed. No 
sooner had they attained some measure of skill, and 
were beginning to be of service, than they were 
beguiled away by the king to be his master-builders 
in Lealui, and he had to begin again with raw hands. 
However, by the close of 1888, the church was 
approaching completion, and was already thatched. 
On the night before Christmas a storm severely tried 
it, but it proved equal to the strain. " The whole 
church seemed to tremble with every peal of thunder 
and every hurricane of wind as it entered the open 
building threatened to carry away the roof. For 
nearly half-an-hour forked and sheet lightning, red, 
white, and blue, flashed among the trees, dazzling one's 
eyes, and filling one with bewilderment and awe, 
while the branch of some ancient tree came crashing 
to the ground." But next day brought a serene 
and happy Christmas, the meaning of which some 
were now beginning to understand. 



AT HOME AMONG THE PEOPLE 97 

On New Year's Day (1889) he laid aside his tools 
to have a romp with the children of the school for 
whom Mr. and Mrs. Coillard had prepared a treat. 
The children had an unceasing interest for Waddell. 
He taught them the games he played as a boy, and 
"rounders" became a feature of every children's 
gathering. He made bats and wickets, and tried to 
teach them cricket, to which however they did not 
take so kindly. " What a good thing it would be," 
he says, "if the Barotsi children would turn to 
athletics. It would strike at indolence and their 
awful bapala (amusements), which are too often mixed 
with sin. Children of five and six will sit round a 
fire and hear all sorts of cruel and immoral talk that 
becomes the predominant habit of their later life. 
There are few if any children here, for, as a rule, they 
do not talk or play as children, but have more sinful 
old-fashioned talk. Their passion is dancing. The 
grown-up people never seem to weary of drumming 
and dancing, and if the children get hold of a bucket, 
or tin can, or anything that sounds, they turn it into 
a drum. Still they have some forms of recreation. 
The bigger boys play at hunting and become 
expert with bow and arrow, while the smaller boys 
and girls play in the sand at digging gardens and 
building toy villages. The boys make tiny kraals 
of reeds or straw, and fill them with toy cattle made 
of clay, and the girls play at pottery and mat-making, 
or carry little dolls on their backs, in imitation of 
their mothers. During the inundation fishing is 
their fail-me-never, and children of five years 
and upward are seen making traps of reeds and 
rushes, and catching the smaller fish, while the bigger 
7 



98 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

boys go out and spear the larger fish in the 
moonlight." 

With the opening of the church, the little mission 
station began to have an air of completeness. Every- 
one who came that way was filled with astonishment 
at the achievement of Waddell with so scanty an 
equipment of tools and helpers. "One traces every- 
where the skilful hand of Mr. Waddell," wrote Mr. 
L. Jalla in the following year. " I specially admired 
the chapel, which is a masterpiece, given the conditions 
of the country." * 

Things were now in the way of getting into a 
regular routine. The risks of the first days were 
disappearing, but the hardships continued. Supplies 
were difficult to obtain, as either they had to come by 
canoe, or through the tsetse forests. Boxes went 
amissing, tea arrived already infused from the water 
of the Zambesi, and one long expected box, when 
opened, was found to contain, instead of clothes and 
literature, nothing but cheque books and blotting- 
paper ! There were many disappointments. Coillard 
toiled round the villages, inviting people to the 
Sabbath services, but it was years before any evident 
impression was made. Mrs. Coillard in enfeebled 
health dragged herself day by day to the school. She 
had no longer the assistance of Aaron, who had 
returned to Basutoland, and the work overtaxed her 
strength. So the greatly understaffed Mission 
struggled on. 

* Another visitor, Dr. Johnston, in his " Reality versus 
Romance in South Central Africa," describes it as "a model 
mission station." 



CHAPTER VIII 

FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 

WE must now pass briefly over the next three or 
four years of Waddell's life at Sefula. His 
ability to turn his hand to anything made him in- 
dispensable. He was joiner, blacksmith, tinsmith by 
turns. " I had to leave off making the church window- 
frames to be a blacksmith," he writes, " as nearly all 
the spade handles were broken at the shoulder. That 
necessitated my forging new sockets from old wheel 
tires, and riveting them to the spades. Then I had no 
sooner dropped the trade of blacksmith than I had a 
turn at being a tinsmith, and with the zinc lining of 
a packing case I put new bottoms in the galvanised 
water-buckets, which had become more like sieves 
than water-vessels. And as Mrs. Coillard found I had 
become a good tinker, it became the order of the day, 
and she turned out for soldering tin basins, milk-pails, 
&c." Nothing came wrong to Waddell in the way of 
work. 

His great regret was that he did not obtain a better 
command of the language. " But," he says, " after a 
day of weary toil I cannot apply myself to mental 
work ; besides, the candle is a consideration. How- 
ever, if my vocabulary of Sesuto is not sufficient for 
preaching, it is enough to gain affection, and to witness 

99 



100 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

to my Saviour. And I am no more at a loss to direct 
the workmen, for when difficulties occur, or the men 
say such and such a tree is too difficult to tackle, a 
joke generally settles the matter and removes the 
difficulty." 

The monotony of the Mission was broken from time 
to time by a visit from the king, who liked to hear 
the children read, and was greatly delighted with their 
games. On New Year's Day, 1890, he appeared with 
his principal wives, and some of his ministers of state, 
and on the following day came Mokwae, with an even 
greater body of followers, so the Mission had a stirring 
time. The king first made an inspection of the 
children ; class by class stood up before him and read, 
while he sat, book in hand, and followed the reading 
of every scholar. Then he made a speech, painfully 
short, but his lack of oratory was no sorrow to the 
children, who were already casting greedy eyes on the 
feast of boiled mealie bread and beef which was being 
made ready for them. After eating came the games, 
with " rounders " as prime favourite. The evening was 
concluded with a lantern entertainment, which was the 
greatest success of all, Mr. Coillard having transferred 
to slides a number of Zambesi photographs, including 
some noteworthy characters, such as Masatoane, with 
his one eye, whose appearance on the screen was 
greeted with tremendous laughter. " New Year's 
Day," says Waddell, " was altogether a happy one for 
the children, and indeed for everyone. As for myself, 
I felt quite a boy again." 

Slowly the Mission began to show the first shoots of 
spring. The school especially, which had long been 
held under the shade of a tree, now filled the church, 



FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 101 

and the children were full of promise, Waddell, hav- 
ing gone on a three-weeks' journey to the Lumbe River 
to repair a broken-down waggon, had an opportunity 
on his return of comparing Sefula as he first saw it 
with its present lively condition. " How pleasant it 
is," he writes, " to come off a journey now, compared 
to our first arrival. Then, we had to make our way 
through the ashes of burnt brushwood, now we ascend 
an open road, with trees and bushes on either side. 
And instead of entering a wilderness, we are greeted 
by ever so many merry school children, who are the 
life of the station. Many of them now read the New 
Testament, and even possess copies of their own. 
To-day we counted twenty-four children with hymn- 
books and New Testaments. What a change from 
the days when they wanted payment for listening, when 
not a soul could read, and had they been given a book, 
they would have thrown it away as a witch of the 
white man ! " 

While many, of course, still continued to come to 
the services in the hope of receiving a present, some 
signs of a more serious spirit were beginning to show 
among the older ones. Litia lost taste of the company 
of his cousins and the others of his village, and begged 
Mr. Coillard to be allowed to build a house inside the 
Mission yard, which, under the direction of Waddell, he 
proceeded to do. 

On the 25th of May, 1890, Mr. Coillard had the 
happy privilege of baptising the first Zambesi 
convert, Nguana-Ngombe, who had been a servant 
in the Mission from the start, and was one of its most 
loyal helpers until he was coveted and tempted away 
by Lewanika. In professing his faith, he made a 



102 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

speech to his comrades, which greatly charmed the 
missionaries. "And you, my friends," to give Waddell's 
version of it, " when are you coming ? What prevents 
you from being converted ? Are you afraid of your 
chiefs, or do you wish to enjoy the pleasures of sin in 
your youth, or are you making a monkey of me, and 
waiting to see if I fall on grass or thorns? You are 
doing with me as the monkeys do when they go to 
hunt or steal. You push me forward, as they do one 
of their children, to see if there is no danger of wasps 
or traps ahead. And if no calamity befalls it, but it 
fares well, then the old ones make a rush for the 
feast. That is just what you are doing with me; you 
are waiting to see what will become of me. I cannot 
answer for my future, but one thing I know, I was 
once a great sinner, but Jesus saved me, and I 
am His." 

While the Mission was rejoicing in the first-fruits 
of its work, troubles arose from an unexpected 
quarter, and its very existence was jeopardised. Ever 
since his return to power, it had been the ambition 
of Lewanika to obtain British protection, for he felt 
this was the one way to secure himself against another 
revolution. Again and again he urged on Coillard 
to sit down and write a letter to the Queen of Britain. 
At last Coillard, though most reluctant to interfere in 
political matters, agreed to act as interpreter, and 
Mr. Elliot Lochner left for Barotsiland as the envoy 
of the British South African Company, and arrived in 
April, 1890. After an interview with the king he 
became the guest of Coillard while the negotiations 
were in progress. In June the first treaty was 
signed, and Barotsiland became a British Protector- 



FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 103 

ate. Some disappointed concession seekers, including 
the artisan X., who had since deserted the Mission to 
become a trader, now began to poison the minds of 
Lewanika and his ministers, telling them that their 
land had been sold to a mining and trading associa- 
tion, and that all the talk about British protection was 
sheer humbug. The king was furious with Coillard 
for leading him, as he thought, into this trap and for 
a time refused to listen. 

" Instead of our peace being secured," Waddell 
writes, " by the arrival of Lochner, the Mission is at 
stake, and the country is thrown into a state of 
excitement almost similar to what it was on our 
arrival." X. became for a period secretary to 
Lewanika, and did all he could to blacken Coillard's 
character. Letters were intercepted and miscon- 
strued, and all kinds of stories spread, to the 
injury of the Mission. The station was nearly burned 
down, and there was a strong suspicion of incendiarism. 
Coillard was summoned to the Capital, and went, 
hardly expecting to return alive. But he faced his 
accusers, and turned the tide in his favour. 
A letter of reproach from Khama, who told 
Lewanika that if he did not keep his contract he 
would see his face, helped to calm him, and with a 
letter from Sir Henry Loch, assuring him that the 
British South African Company represented the Queen, 
and a Resident would shortly be sent, the storm blew 
past. The intention clearly was to keep back British 
protection, drive the missionaries from the country, and 
secure the spoils for the trader. But though it was 
defeated, it was long before the Mission regained con- 
fidence in the minds of the chiefs, or even with the king. 



104 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

X. had sown seeds of unbelief in the minds of 
Lewanika and his ministers which continue to bear 
their unhappy fruits to-day. " It grieves us," writes 
Waddell, " to think of the man who used to pray for 
Lewanika now telling him that the missionaries' 
teaching is a pack of lies, and the Bible a collection 
of legends like the legends of the Barotsi. The other 
day two young men, pupils of our school who had 
been in this man's company, came to me and asked me 
in a mocking way if I ever saw God, and who was the 
devil ? ' The latter,' I said, ' was the father of him 
who told you to ask such a question.' " 

About this time a fresh interest was given to his 
life by the news that some friends in Glasgow were 
sending out to him a circular saw, with all the fittings 
for its erection at Sefula. His diary fairly bubbles 
over with joy at the prospect. No sooner did he receive 
the plans for the bench than he started for the forest to 
cut timber,and have all in readiness for the arrival of the 
gift that was so greatly to lighten his future labours. 
" Now I am camped in the forest," he writes gaily, 
"ripping timber into planks for the centre part of 
the saw-bench. Try to think of me in the bright 
moonlight, seated behind a fence of bushes, and from 
the end of a tree trunk, which serves as a table, eating 
what I call a well-earned meal, though it has cost me 
nothing but a cartridge. And in front of me is a blazing 
fire, with a boy singing while stirring the porridge, 
and my two men improving their time by making 
wooden dishes," 

He now made a long journey down country to 
Kazungula, partly to bring up the heavier portions of 
the saw-bench, which could not be transported by 



FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 105 

canoe, and partly to escort Miss Kiener, a young lady 
teacher who was coming out from Europe to assist 
Mrs. Coillard. The journey passed off without mishap. 
The adventures of the ordinary traveller had become 
for Waddell the common events of the day. " Owls, 
hyaenas, and leopards kept up a concert nearly all 
night, but one gets used to such music, and I went to 
sleep in the midst of it alongside the camp fire." 

But for the painful sights that met him on the 
journey — here a Barotsi press-gang on their way home 
with boy and girl slaves, there a crowd of Mangete, 
dragging trees for canoes, across miles of sand, to the 
nearest waterway — it was the best holiday vt^hich he 
had had for years. 

When at Sesheke he received the disturbing news 
that a canoe had capsized, and some parts of the saw- 
bench had gone to the bottom of the Zambesi. " This 
puts a damper on my dreams of future work with the 
saw-mill," he writes, " which now looks like the present 
of a waggon that has lost a wheel." However, the 
lost parts were later fished up by natives from the 
river bed, and the saw arrived at Sefula complete 
after its adventurous journey. When erected, it 
became one of the wonders of the land. The place 
was besieged by men, women, and children, eager to 
see " the oxen splitting wood." Some gaped, some 
laughed, some tried to mimic the noise which it made. 
One old man, when he saw it, said, " We are a nation of 
children, but the white people are men." If only that 
saw-bench had come four or five years before ! 

Another event that afforded great pleasure, 
especially to the children, was the arrival of a large 
bell for the church, the gift of some French children. 



106 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

" It was my business," writes Waddell, " to hang the 
bell, and a tree being chosen as a belfry, I put up the 
ladder and set to work, but the tree, being somewhat 
hollow, was inhabited by red honey-making ants, and 
no sooner did my axe go tap than out came a regiment 
of them and bit me so savagely, from head to foot, 
that I had to retreat faster than I came up. A boy 
then mounted with burning grass to fire them out, but 
he had no better luck, for they took refuge in his 
woolly hair, and made him scream as he descended 
the ladder. Not liking the idea of being driven off 
by ants, I made a fuse of saltpetre and sulphur and 
fired their nest, but without success, for although I 
thought they were done for, I had no sooner begun 
chopping than out they came again in battalions and 
drove me down the ladder. So I was conquered and 
had to seek a belfry in another tree." 

During the next months a shadow lay upon the 
station through the continued illness of Mrs. Coillard. 
One attack of fever followed another, each leaving her 
weaker. Her promised visit to the Capital was post- 
poned from month to month, but at last she persuaded 
Coillard to take her, believing it must be now or never. 
Except for an ugly adventure with a vulture which 
attacked her on the outskirts of the village, the visit 
was a pleasant one, the religious meetings especially, 
which she felt had been the brightest since the happy 
days at Leribe. Litia, the king's son, stood up and 
made a public profession of Christianity, and his speech 
was so touching that it moved his friend, Mokamba, to 
tears. "What a rare sight," said Mrs. Coillard, " to 
see a Morotsi weep, and weep for his sins ! Why, I 
thought a Morotsi had no tears. Not so long ago I 



FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 107 

would have gone some hundreds of miles to see a 
Morotsi weep, and here we see one at Lealui weeping 
for his sins." The sight filled her with a deep joy, 
and she felt she could now die in peace. On the two 
following days she was very weak, the strain had been 
too much, and she asked Coillard to take her home to 
die. Ten days later (28th October, 1891) she was 
gone, and to Waddell fell the sad duty, the saddest, he 
says, that he had ever been called to do, of making 
her coffin. He felt her loss most keenly. A woman 
of strong and independent mind, she was not under- 
stood by everybody, but he had found the way to her 
heart. She had been a mother to him, and her going 
left him lonelier. 

The charge of the Mission household now fell upon 
Miss Kiener, who continues down to the present in 
mission work on the Zambesi. As she is the only one 
now living who was associated with Waddell at 
Sefula, some reminiscences of those days which 
she has sent me will be of interest. 

" Mr. Waddell was a model artisan. This 
impression has never been effaced or weakened with 
the years. He toiled hard himself and taught the 
Zambesi boys to labour. But he was a missionary, 
first and foremost, and never missed an opportunity 
of testifying to the righteousness of God, and His 
love manifested in Jesus Christ. He was very 
methodical, his hours of work and rest were fixed, 
and he kept them. When he had to cut down trees, 
he went into the forest for days with the boys, and 
lived in a very simple way which he loved, holding 
worship with them morning and evening. On his 
return he was full of interesting tales, which he had 



108 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

to tell. On Saturday afternoon he put his workshop 
in order, arranged the work for the following week, 
and prepared himself for the Sunday. If he could, he 
had a chat with one or other of the natives, and spoke 
to them of the Saviour, making them read out of the 
New Testament, and explaining passages from the 
Proverbs. During the mid-day rest, or in the evening 
before dinner, when he had taken his bath, and made 
his toilet, he sat himself near his door, and had a talk 
with the people of the station, or with visitors, or with 
the king. I remember having seen him with his 
Bible, reading portions of the Proverbs to the king, 
who listened, letting them be expounded to him. 
And Mr. Coillard said : * Of Mr. Waddell the king 
accepts everything, without taking umbrage, for he 
knows that he does it with love, and for his good.' 
Lewanika did not always, or even often follow his 
counsels, but I sometimes ask myself if one or other of 
the evangelical truths have not at times come back to 
his memory. On Sundays, in coming out of church, 
Mr. Waddell always had some talk with those who 
had been present, and in the afternoon usually took a 
walk, or showed and explained some Bible pictures to 
the boys gathered round him. He was extremely 
humble, but he beamed when Mr. or Mrs. Coillard 
went to admire his work. He was in need of 
encouragement, as is easily understood, for he passed 
his days with the natives. He loved especially Mrs. 
Coillard, and in the evening after dinner talked 
and amused us, having always a plentiful supply of 
anecdotes. He would tell of his first experiences in 
Africa, and speak with a loving admiration of his 
father. Often he would bring to Mrs. Coillard some 



FIRST SHOOTS OF SPRING 109 

eggs from the hen-house which he had constructed, 
and he told me that her smile did him good for the 
whole day. Once after her death he brought them 
from habit, and only recollected his mistake on find- 
ing me in the place where she usually sat, when he 
was overcome by deep emotion. He suffered much 
from the void left by her removal, and sometimes 
spoke to me words of faith and consolation, when I 
felt myself lost on the Zambesi, of which I knew so 
little." 



CHAPTER IX 

FRESH LABOURS 

THE time was now come when Waddell should 
have gone home on furlough. Seven and a-half 
years had elapsed since he set out from Leribe, and 
for six years he had been doing the work of two men 
in one of the unhealthiest spots in Africa. Had he 
returned now, his life might have been spared for 
many years, and for some months he considered him- 
self free to go, and was turning his face homeward. 
But circumstances arose which made him feel it to be 
his duty to remain, and notwithstanding the heavy 
cost that it entailed, he never questioned, nor would 
allow others to question, the wisdom of his decision. 

We have already seen that Lewanika undertook to 
remove his court to Sefula, but with the procrastina- 
tion native to his character he kept putting it off, 
until Coillard began to see that the change would 
never be made. What was to be done ? The Mission 
laboured under a great disadvantage in being so far 
from the King's Village, and evil influences were now 
at work which made the task of Mr. Coillard doubly 
hard. His old artisan, a man whom he had respected 
and trusted, had apparently gained complete mastery 
over the king and chiefs, and his visits to Lealui were 
now unwelcome and stormy. So long as he was present, 
no 



FRESH LABOURS 111 

Coillard could exert some influence on the king, for, 
as Waddell says, "he could not resist a sneaking liking 
for the missionary, and he enjoyed his company," but 
as soon as his back was turned, the intriguer gained 
the upper hand. 

Slowly the conviction began to form that the 
Mission must be removed to the Capital. He put 
the matter before Waddell, and asked him if he was 
willing and able to begin again. " Well, I said, after 
a few seconds' pause," writes Waddell, " if you see it 
your duty to go there, it is my duty to give up for the 
present the thought of going home and build you a 
station." And so the question was finally settled. 
" I take courage in the clear conviction," he adds, 
" that I am following an obvious call, which, if I ever 
doubted, that time has long since passed. Moreover, 
I reckon it no mean thing to help Mr. Coillard in his 
increasing desire to win precious souls for the Saviour, 
which is his sole aim." 

And so the toilsome work of building had once 
more to begin. It was not the intention to abandon 
Sefula, which had many advantages over Lealui, but 
circumstances demanded that the work meantime be 
removed to the more strategic position. No sooner 
was the decision taken than Waddell commenced the 
preparatory work. He had now the saw-mill, which 
allowed him to tackle it with greater hopefulness. 
Day after day found him hard at work in the woods, 
hewing trees, with his men, and carting them to the 
saw-mill. " The saw-mill being now complete, and in 
splendid working order, we have no more need to 
use saplings for the building of the new station. So 
I am encamped in the forest, felling huge motosadi 



112 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

trees. These trees, which are very graceful, are a 
species of mahogany, and although they may not be 
so beautiful or valuable as the cedars of Lebanon, I 
like to think that God caused them to grow for us to 
build a house in which the rising generation may be 
taught to love and appreciate His works of nature. 
Our smaller boys are quite in their element driving 
the oxen of the saw-mill, and are almost as noisy as 
the mill itself A good spirit prevails among my men, 
who delight in seeing the timber being cut up into 
pillars, beams, and rafters for the house of God." 
During this time he had a narrow escape from death. 
Driving through the forest one day he was caught by 
a branch around the neck, and hurled right in front 
of a waggon drawn by sixteen oxen, and jammed 
between the wheel and the stump of a tree. " The 
boys were a little in front, carrying the saw and axes, 
and Seone shouted to them to come back, Ganguro 
was killed. He then backed the oxen, to take the 
strain off the trek-chain, and the others, with a will, 
put their shoulders to the wheel, and extricated me 
from my perilous position, which resulted in little more 
than a bruise and a scratch. At first I laughed, but 
afterwards wept when I thought of the deliverance. 
'Ha,' said the hoys,,' Molimo (God) has saved him; 
had he been a Morotsi, he would have been killed.' " 

New Year's Day, 1892, was a memorable day in the 
history of the Barotsi, and thousands gathered at the 
Station to see the marriage of Litia, the king's son. 
The little church was decorated with palms, creepers, 
and other plants, for he was to be married as a 
Christian. The royal bridegroom was dressed in a 
serge suit, and had provided the trousseau also for 



FRESH LABOURS 113 

his dusky bride. " Among the articles were a pair of 
shoes," writes Waddell, " which unfortunately were too 
small, so she appeared in her natural black shoes, 
which were in no way unbecoming, with her white 
veil and dress of yellow lustre." A table was laid 
under a shady tree, where the royal family might 
lunch in European fashion, but this was rather a failure, 
as Lewanika objected to eat with his wives when 
exposed to the gaze of his subjects. However, with 
a little coaxing, he consented to sit with the bride, his 
sisters, and daughter, and the affair passed over with- 
out further hitch. 

All this time Coillard was making repeated visits 
to the Capital, to pave the way for his removal. " Mr. 
Coillard has just returned from Lealui," writes Waddell 
in the month of February, 1892. " His visit this time 
was both unpleasant and prolonged, owing to the 
behaviour of Lewanika, who, like King Saul of old, was 
troubled with an evil spirit, or as the Barotsi say, with 
a 'yellow heart.' He received his missionary in a 
way that was unworthy of his right frame of mind. 
At first he was opposed to everything relating to 
mission work, and more especially to the proposed 
new station. But the more he saw of the man of God, 
his yellow heart went from him, as did the evil spirit 
of King Saul before the melody of David's harp." 

The traitor at court, whom Coillard called his 
"Alexander the Coppersmith," at last overreached 
himself and quarrelled with Lewanika. The wily 
king came to see his selfish plans, and would have no 
more of him. " He has gone," writes Waddell, " a 
disappointed man, for Lewanika would neither chase 
away the missionaries, nor organise an expedition to 



114 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

hunt for gold. He hoped to ' strike ile ' at Lewanika's 
expense, float a company, and sell out. Hence his 
hatred of the British South African Company and of 
Mr. Coillard as interpreter. He is gone in disgrace, 
and the rest of his acts, and the mischief which he did, 
cannot be read in any Book of Chronicles of the kings 
of Barotsi." 

This X. who played the Mission so false was, and 
remained, a mystery to Waddell. He had loved him 
as a brother. They had prayed together for the 
extension of Christ's Kingdom and the conversion of 
the heathen. And then he turned round and said 
that all that he wanted of the missionaries was to 
get up country to trade, and his theology had been 
from the first that of an infidel. " It may be so," says 
Waddell, " but it is hard to believe that he was a wolf 
in sheep's clothing." 

A violent epidemic of smallpox now broke out all 
over the Valley ; labour was suspended, for the people 
said, " What is the use of working when we live to 
die ? " And those who escaped the pale horse of death 
were threatened with the black horse of famine. 
Coillard was greatly perplexed. A messenger was 
despatched for lymph, but months would elapse before 
his return, and the disease was rapidly spreading. 
The dead bodies were not being buried but thrown 
amongst the reeds and bushes. So he inoculated 
some cows, obtained virus and began to vaccinate all 
and sundry, greatly against the will of the king, who 
grudged this waste on " the black things of the forest." 
" Those good people," writes Waddell, " who have no 
faith in vaccination, should be here to see what small- 
pox is without vaccination. All the school children 



FRESH LABOURS 115 

have been vaccinated, and although some have taken 
the disease, it has been very mild, except in one or 
two cases where the vaccination was not successful." 
Although Waddell makes no mention of it, either in 
letter or journal, we learn from Miss Kiener that he 
himself was very ill at this time, and believed that he 
was dying. 

Coillard now removed to Lealui, leaving Waddell 
to complete the preparatory work. There was a time 
when the king would have rejoiced to see the tents 
of his missionary close to his Village, but now he 
was lukewarm, and did little to accommodate him. 
Coillard wrote to Waddell asking if he could provide 
a temporary shelter against sun and wind for his 
services, and Waddell's quick response brought back 
the touching note from the old missionary : " Thank 
you, my dear Waddell, you are a good old soldier ; I 
like you on the battlefield." 

The only spot that Lewanika would give for a 
mission station was a mound outside the village called 
Loatile, some two acres in extent, which became an 
island during the inundation. It was a forlorn, 
repulsive spot, and had long been dreaded as a place 
bewitched. For centuries it had been used for the 
burning of those condemned for witchcraft, and was 
covered with human bones, bleached or blackened 
with fire. The soil was of a clayey nature, which 
with every shower of rain became a sticky paste. 
For ages it had been the happy hunting ground of 
white ants, whose industry had raised it to its present 
height above the valley. The whole place was 
covered with tropical weeds and bushes, and an 
entangling thorny scrub, with a repulsive odour. 



IIG AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

This was the place to which Waddell now came to 
begin again the weary work of building — a terrible 
contrast to Sefula. Let us read his description of the 
place as he found it: "It is quite a paradise for 
nature's scavengers. Countless myriads of insects live 
on this forlorn Golgotha, ever ready to follow up in 
the rear of the vultures. The air is full of butterflies, 
moths, wasps, bees, flies, and mosquitoes, while on and 
underneath theground go all manner of rodents, snakes, 
lizards, centipedes, and millipedes, also ants, spiders, 
beetles, frogs, and toads, and creeping things innumer- 
able, a vast army that no man can number. Oh, such 
a creepy-crawly place, with sights and smells unholy ! 
Moreover, these vermin are determined to give us 
trouble for destroying their fortress. No sooner has 
daylight disappeared than myriads of winged insects 
hum around, eager to draw blood and share our 
evening meal. But this is not all. Countless 
battalions of white ants have waged war against us, 
and attack us by night and drive us from our tents. 
Talk of the plagues of Egypt ! Why, we have a fair 
specimen of them here. But there is none that drives 
one mad like the black or warrior ants. Their 
marching order is certainly most beautiful, and in the 
moonlight their line looks like a glittering, black snake. 
But I pity the man or beast that treads on it. In the 
twinkle of an eye he is covered from head to foot by 
the most savage of insects. The snakes are dangerous, 
the rats and white ants are destructive, but these bite, 
nay, they stand on their heads and drive their fish- 
hook-like pincers into one's flesh, and allow themselves 
to be torn in two before they will release their hold. 
One may laugh at the bite of a mosquito, but these 



FRESH LABOURS 117 

warriors would make a hero dance like a madman. 
One day, while I was sawing a piece of wood, unknown 
to me some black scouts came out of the ground under 
my feet, and were at my ears before the order was 
given to charge, when the whole company charged at 
once. Alas ! I lost my temper, threw down my saw, 
and made a leap, saying, ' No, no ! we shall never be 
able to build in this place.' " 

A trench was dug about the station to keep off 
these marauders, but it was found to be useless. 
" They are absolutely fearless," he continues, " and 
when on the march, nothing will stop them. On, on 
they go, until they arrive at the ditch, where there is a 
block for a second or two, but the procession dare not 

stop. 

" ' Their's not to reason why, 
Their's but to do and die.' 

So pell-mell go the pioneers into the water, and cling 
to each other like the links in a chain. A gust of 
wind blows them to the opposite shore, and the body 
of the army passes on, while those who constructed 
the bridge have sacrificed their lives for the advance 
of their comrades." 

Waddell returns again and again in his diary to the 
plague of insect life which infested them at Lealui. 
" The insects of our island are a world in themselves, 
and every other day I see some strange beetle, moth, 
or butterfly. We have at least seven varieties of ants, 
which differ entirely from one another in taste and 
habit. One or two of their tribes are harmless, 
inasmuch as they are content with a share of our 
food without eating the roof off our heads, or'driving 
us from our beds. The white ants are a more powerful 



118 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

race than their relatives at Sefula, or at least the 
nature of the soil gives them a double power to 
destroy. In the walls of our huts they make great 
holes or galleries, in which they build their soft, spongy 
nests. At Sefula our almanac might remain on the 
wall at least for a season, and our boots might remain 
on the floor for a week. But here we can have no 
such luxury as a picture or an almanac on the wall, 
and we run the risk of losing part of the soles of our 
boots if we leave them overnight on the floor. Of 
all insects the white ants are the most industrious 
and destructive. But their enemies, the black soldiers, 
are quite as interesting. The other night I witnessed 
a fight between a company of the whites and blacks. 
I had destroyed a nest of whites in the wall of my 
hut and while the builders were busy closing the hole, 
a detachment of the black scouts came sauntering into 
the hut and along the floor, until they were opposite 
the builders. Then they mounted the wall with double 
haste and began the attack. In the twinkling of an eye 
the builders threw down their mortar and prepared 
for the defence. They fought bravely, but they had 
no chance with the black warriors, who tossed them 
to the floor, where they were at once picked up and 
carried off"." 

By the beginning of January, 1893, the mound was 
cleared of the thorny bushes, and the tent gave way 
to six round huts, which proved a great comfort. 
With wind and thunderstorm the tents had been 
reduced almost to shreds, and the missionaries were 
at the mercy of all the crawling creatures of the place. 
In addition to the plagues already mentioned, they 
suffered a veritable Egyptian plague of frogs, which 



FRESH LABOURS 119 

congregated in hundreds in the tent roofs, and, 
says Waddell, were passionately fond of tumbling 
somersaults on to the table and into the teacups. 
" We find them in our beds and in our larder, and if 
we had the luxury of an oven, or a kneading trough, 
like the Egyptians of old, we would be sure to find 
them there also." 

They now had their first experience of the inunda- 
tion at Lealui. At Sefula it had little affected them, 
as the station was high and dry on the sand, but here 
they were right in the track of the rising waters of the 
Zambesi. " Our mound is now an island," he writes, 
" and when the sun breaks through the clouds after 
torrents of rain, a vapour rises from the damp ground, 
which makes the place a hot-bed of fever, and an 
incubator for mosquitoes and other insects. When the 
water began to rise, changes took place among our 
enemies, the original inhabitants. The frogs and the 
toads took to the water, but the snakes, rats, and 
army ants, that had passed the winter on the plain, 
returned to dispute our rights to the island. We 
have lately killed six varieties of snakes, the largest 
being six feet long. Some of these are very dangerous, 
such as the mamba, cobra, and puff-adder; but 
although the latter is a most deadly snake, he is 
rather a lazy brute, and is easily shot when swimming 
ashore. The rodents, which are also of a mixed race, 
have formed a new colony in our stack of thatch- 
ing grass, others have begun housekeeping in our 
provision hut, which they find very convenient, when 
they invite their friends to a midnight banquet." 

The inundation of the Zambesi is the annual holi- 
day in Barotsiland, when the whole population goes 



120 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

afloat in canoes and barges, to shoot antelopes and 
other animals collected on the islands. Every year 
Lewanika builds a Nalikuanda (state barge), on which 
he goes aboard, with his bands and war-drums, to 
join in the hunt, followed by his wives in other 
royal barges. These wonderful craft, which are 
over 100 feet long by I2 feet broad, and 4 feet 
deep, are built after the same model as their canoes, 
with planks sewn together by cords of bark. They 
have neither frame nor stiffening, keel nor rudder. 
The bottom is flat and leaky, but the king sits on 
his throne high and dry, in a cabin covered with strips of 
calico, red, white, and blue. The paddling is done by 
some thirty chiefs, whose heads are adorned with 
lions' manes. 

" The Naliknandal' writes Waddell, " is very clumsy 
when compared with a European boat, but it is a 
marvellous piece of work for heathen savages. But as 
the Barotsi have a high idea of their skill, they need to 
be humbled a little before they can be instructed. 
They think we never saw such a wonderful boat, and 
truly we never did. But they looked at me with 
astonishment when I told them that I worked at a 
boat that would hold not only their great boat, but 
all the canoes and people besides. ' Oh ! ' said they, 
' and how many people does it take to paddle that 
big canoe ? ' ' None,' I answered, ' we make our boats 
go with fire.' ' Ha ! But does fire not burn the 
boats?' 'No, fire cannot burn iron,' * Ha ! Does 
the white man make his canoes with iron ? ' * Yes.' 
' Do they not sink?' 'No; look at that basin, it is 
iron, and it won't sink unless you fill it with water.' 
' Truly,' said they, ' the white people are wise.' " 



FRESH LABOURS 121 

The previous year the royal barge had been a most 
ambitious affair, 129 feet long, and built according to 
the natives' idea of a white man's boat, but it had 
proved a failure. They had heard that the white 
men fasten their planks by iron nails, and had tried 
to adopt the idea, but having no frame into which to 
drive the nails, they completely failed. Now that 
Ga7igtiro was at the capital, Lewanika came to have 
a talk with him about boat-building. Waddell told 
him he could never build a boat until he took the 
skeleton of an animal or fish for his model. " What 
you want," said I, " is a skeleton, and above all things, 
a backbone. We white people begin with a backbone 
called a keel, and to it we fix the ribs, which carries the 
planks. His majesty said I was right, and regretted 
that I was not free to help him." 

But Waddell talked to the king also on deeper 
themes. One Sunday, as he was suffering from 
neuralgia, Lewanika did not go to the service, but sent 
his servant to mark the lesson and the text. In the 
afternoon Waddell went to see him, and found him 
squatting on the floor of the great hall, reading his 
Bible. He closed it immediately and asked for Mr. 
Coillard, who had been down at death's door with fever. 
"'He is much better, J/<?;'^w« (King),' I said; 'butdoyou 
know, I think the Moniti was not very anxious to live?' 

"'Oh!' said he, with a smile and a click of his 
tongue, ' there is no man but wants to live.' 

" ' But, Morena' I said, ' the Moruti is sad at heart, 
for his work has been undone.' 

" ' Do you mean by Litia and the others ? ' he replied ; 
'they will come back.' (Litia, yielding to heathen 
influence, had taken another wife.) 



122 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

" * They may, or they may not,' I said, ' and there is 
also the Morena! 

" ' But I was never a Molimati (believer),' he 
answered. 

" ' No, but you know, Morena, that you are not what 
you were,' I said. 

'"But, Willie, there is no man a Molimati,' said 
the king. 

" ' Oh, but there are,' I said. 

" ' His majesty then lifted the Bible, which he opened 
at a paper-mark, and asked me to read the text : 
' If any man come to Me and hate not his father and 
mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and 
sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My 
disciple.' ' No man can do that,' said his majesty. 

" ' But, Morena' said I, ' that means that you are to 
hate what is sinful in them, and love the Lord with all 
your heart' 

" ' But,' said he, ' is it in this world or the next that a 
man is the better of being a believer? ' 

" ' A believer,' said I, ' is promised nothing in this 
world but a cross, nevertheless, he has God for his 
Father, Jesus for his elder brother, and knowing that, 
he has a happiness of which the world knows nothing.' 

"' How do you know a Molimati?' he continued. 

" ' By his deeds,' said I. 

" ' Are you one, Willie ? ' said he. 

" ' Well, Moreiia' said I, ' did you ever see anything in 
my life that would make you think that I was not one ? ' 

" ' But,' said he, ' I do not see you every day.' 

" ' That is true,' I said, ' but you are good at hearing 
about people's doings ; do you ever hear anything 
bad about me ? ' 



FRESH LABOURS 123 

" He laughed and said ' No.' 

"After that he put many straight and pointed 
questions that made me believe he desired to become 
a Christian but had not the strength to throw off the 
yoke of heathenism." 

Lewanika has remained to this day a borderer, 
halting between two opinions, and a painful illustra- 
tion to the Mission Church that a " double-minded 
man is unstable in all his ways," More than once he 
was on the point of becoming a Christian, but took 
fright at the "lions" and turned back. The lions in 
his case were the Barotsi chiefs, who declared that 
they would not have a Christian to rule over them. 
Now it is feared that his heart is growing callous. 

It has been the ethical side of Christianity that has 
proved the chief stumbling-block to the Barotsi. 
They are in their way a religious people, but their 
religion has no outlook to morality. They believe in 
a god, whom they call Molimo or Nyambe, who 
lives somewhere above them, and hears and sees 
everything. He is the creator of all things, man, 
animal, and plant, and calls all things to their death. 
The different nationalities they account for by the 
polygamy of Nyambe, each nation being his offspring 
by a separate wife, who has given her character to 
the nation. The Barotsi do not dare to approach 
Ny a7nbe d\rec\.\y,h\i\. through intermediaries, such as 
deceased kings and chiefs, who are by no means 
chosen on account of their exemplary lives on earth. 
The times for making offerings to Nyambe are sun- 
rise and sunset, and the favourite offering is a bowl 
of fresh-drawn water, though blood is also offered. 
Their petitions are always for outward objects, such 



124 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

as success in hunting, or deliverance from sickness, 
and they have a profound belief that NyanibJ hears 
their prayers. 

The Barotsi have shown themselves far more 
ready to assimilate the material benefits of the 
Mission. Waddell, on his arrival at the capital, found 
the king comfortably settled in a handsome wattle 
and daub palace, with four rooms and an outside 
corridor, which had been built for him by the 
carpenters trained at Sefula. But these men dared 
not use their skill for their own houses, as Naramongo, 
one of Waddell's old hands, who had superintended 
the work at the royal palace found to his cost. 
" Some time ago," writes Waddell, '• I saw him sick in 
his village, which is down in the valley, and built on 
damp, spongy ground. So I said to him, ' Look 
here, my friend, you cannot be well lying on such 
damp ground. Now that you have built good houses 
for the royal family, why do you not choose a dry spot 
on the edge of the hill and build yourself a neat little 
house in European style ? ' He got well and acted on 
my advice, but when he had the materials together 
and the frame well up, some spiteful Barotsi lords fell 
on it and pulled it down. ' Who are you,' they said, 
' daring to affect such grandeur and build a house 
similar to the king ? ' " 

In such ways the Barotsi retard the progress of 
their nation, and break the hearts of their missionaries. 

But other and still darker troubles came to dis- 
courage them. Litia, their chief hope, had succumbed 
to the intrigues of the heathen chiefs. Mokamba, his 
friend, who had wept for his sins, had drifted back into 
heathenism. Nguana-Ngombe, their first convert, 



FRESH LABOURS 125 

who had been admitted with such promise to the 
Church, had returned to his wallowing in the mire. It 
seemed as if these years of laborious toil had yielded 
almost nothing. But they were not the men to lose 
heart, nor did they believe that they had spent their 
strength in vain. " Oh, no," says Waddell, " there are 
still a few who have put their hands to the plough, 
and have not turned back. Besides, there is much 
which cannot be fully observed. Heathenism, with 
all its repulsiveness and cruelty, is being slowly under- 
mined, and will eventually crumble under the influence 
of the Gospel." 



CHAPTER X 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 



THE main reason why the Mission station was now 
undesired at the Capital was that both king and 
chiefs, having learned something of the Gospel of the 
missionaries, felt that the evil practices to which they 
clung would be too much exposed to their observant 
eyes and outspoken criticisms. One of these practices 
which Coillard had already denounced was the frequent 
cattle raids on the Mashikulumbwe, a harmless tribe, 
whom the Barotsi called their dogs, or cattle herds. 
They were a pastoral people, living without a paramount 
chief, and rearing large herds of a small breed of 
cattle. Whenever want appeared in the Valley, the 
Barotsi raised the cry, " To the Mashikulumbwe ! " 
and off they marched, chiefs and people, to ravage 
and pillage, and drive home a plentiful supply of 
food. Feeling the thrust of Coillard's words, the 
king had already gone so far as to plead : " This 
time only, after that we will be good." 

A still more diabolical practice was the slave-raiding 
made from Lealui. On some trumped-up charge 
they would march on an innocent tribe, spend a few 
glorious days in shooting, spearing, pillaging, burning, 
and carry back a great booty of cattle, women, and 
children, which was then divided among the various 
126 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 127 

Barotsi lords. Waddell describes one such raid which 
took place about the time he removed to the Capital. 
" It was great sport to the Barotsi to see a poor child, 
struggling and screaming, and running quite lost in the 
crowd, crying for its mother, who had already been 
carried off. And a buffoon in the lekJiothla could not 
have created greater laughter than a young mother 
who struggled and wept when parted from her first- 
born and only child. Her bravery, however, surpassed 
that of the warriors, for with her mother's heart she 
conquered. Lewanika permitted her to keep her 
child, and the Barotsi said he was a lucky fellow who 
got her, as he received two slaves instead of one." 

These were the surroundings amid which Waddell 
recommenced his toil of building. It was to be the 
most trying period of his labours, as it was to be the 
last. Though little has been said about it, he had 
suffered much from fever in the preceding years, and 
now the seeds of a darker and more terrible disease 
were being sown in his body. But with the last 
energies of a tired man he girded himself to the work. 
He felt that the Mission was in jeopardy, and he must 
support Coillard to the last inch of his strength. " He 
is simple in his faith, but firm as a rock," wrote 
Coillard to his friends at home, " and displays an 
admirable fidelity towards everyone, especially 
Lewanika. Without him I should never have been 
able to undertake the establishment of this new 
station. Our friends ought to know this. In the 
mission field artisans have often proved a deception 
and a cross. Our friend is one of the rare examples 
who glorify God by being an honour to their work." 
One of Waddell's first cares was to build a little 



128 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

one-roomed, thatched cottage for Mr, Coillard and 
make the old man as comfortable as he could. " The 
care which this kind friend puts into this work 
troubles me," wrote Coillard ; " it seems to me almost 
a profanation." * Then he pushed on with the building 
of the church. Under the date 30th July, 1893, he 
records in his journal with a sigh of relief that the 
framework is now finished. " Simple as it is, the 
Barotsi look upon it with admiration. Poor people, 
they never saw a larger or a better building. 
It is 60 feet long by 33 feet broad, and to use a big 
word for a small thing, it is built in cathedral fashion, 
with a nave or main roof, which rests on 6-inch 
beams, supported by eight square pillars with bracket 
arms. The walls are built of strong trees, with a space 
of I foot 6 inches between each, which will be filled 
in with reeds and finished with the orthodox plaster. 
It will be entered by a portico, with two doors, and 
lighted by twelve windows. This week I hope to begin 
covering the roof with grass, and simple as the work is, 
I cannot leave it entirely to the natives. It must be 
carefully done, and it is rather a wearisome job under 
a tropical sun. This roof, with its surface of nearly 
4000 feet, is by far the largest I have yet attempted." 
While the church was in process of construction, 
Coillard continued his teaching and preaching in the 
large temporary tent. From a handful, the school 
grew rapidly to over 200 scholars, and the station 
began to assume some of the brightness of Sefula. 
The young ladies and aristocrats came by canoe, 
accompanied by their slaves, and the rank and file 

* Mr. Coillard had wished to have the church built before his 
own house. 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 129 

came plunging through the mud and water, their 
native element. It mattered not whether it was too 
deep to wade, for the Barotsi are like their cattle, and 
can swim as soon as walk. The shepherd boys had 
but to whistle on their calves, and were towed through 
the water, clinging to their tails. The services were 
also well attended, and Coillard was encouraged by 
the interest that was awakened. The king came 
regularly, and greatly enjoyed the preaching of the 
missionary, notwithstanding that many an arrow was 
directed at his own heart. " Thou art weighed in the 
balance and found wanting," was one of Coillard's 
pointed texts. Tears would sometimes be seen to 
gather in the king's eyes as the people sang the 
touching Basuto hymn, " Come to Jesus, thou slave 
of sin." " Poor king," says Waddell, " the Gospel 
has been faithfully presented to him, and he has felt 
its power. But the other evening, when we heard 
hundreds of voices counter-cheering him by shouting 
yo-sho, Mr. Coillard said to me, ' Ah ! Mr. Waddell, it 
is hard for that man to believe he is a sinner.' " 

The ladies of the royal harem became constant 
attenders, but they were so afraid of sitting in the 
presence of their lord, that it was some time before 
they could be persuaded to come inside the tent. It 
was in the end accomplished by stratagem, on the 
part of Waddell. Let us hear his account of it : 
" Each lady is accompanied by a slave-girl, who 
carries her mat, and formerly the ladies commanded 
their slave to spread them behind the reed gable of 
the tabernacle, where they could hear and yet be 
hidden from their lord. One Sunday, however, when 
the service was begun, and they were about to squat 



130 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

in th« same old place, I lifted one of the mats, and 
with all the courtesy of a Barotsi aristocrat, said to 
the most handsome of these dames (that is, judging 
by weight), ' Do come inside, my mother.' And before 
she had time to reflect, she had followed me round the 
corner, where I spread the mat, and there she squatted. 
But on realising her position she made a remark, 
which is equivalent to, ' Is it possible, my brother, 
that you have conquered me ? ' On the following 
Sunday a place was reserved for these ladies, who as 
usual arrived during the singing. But before they 
had time to take snuff, Mr. Coillard put down his 
book and went out to get the mats, which he spread 
close to the pulpit. Then he made a sign with his 
hand, and the ladies came forward, but they appeared 
very nervous at this breach of Barotsi etiquette, and 
to the end of the singing looked at each other in 
bewilderment, while their lord, who was on the 
opposite side, stood biting his tongue to keep from 
laughter. At last they sat down, and the battle was 
won, and that piece of Barotsi superstition got a final 
blow." 

With these words Waddell's journal breaks off, and 
his later letters have been destroyed. Some jottings 
carry us a little further ; we find him in October of 
the same year at Sefula, making seats for the church, 
but for the most part we are dependent on others, or 
on our recollections of his conversation, for the story 
of his last year on the Zambesi. Although his diary 
bears no reference to it, he was very ill during the 
building of the church. He suffered from such sting- 
ing pains in the feet that he could not sleep, and the 
natives would bring damp grass for him to stand on, 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 131 

while he worked. " But," says Miss Kiener, " he never 
abandoned his work, which grew enormous in the last 
year." Every day he toiled through the mid-day heat 
without a rest. There was an entire absence of 
drinkable water on the station ; it was two hours for 
a good walker to fetch any, and when he was parched 
with thirst, there was often nothing to drink but 
green, stagnant, muddy water, alive with toads and 
other creatures, in which men, women, and children 
bathed promiscuously. All the time he was on the 
Zambesi he was never in bed at breakfast-time, but 
often he was on his feet, and at his work, so shaken 
with fever that he hardly knew what he was doing. 
There could be but one end to this. However, he 
struggled on for the next year with a heroic dogged- 
ness. We catch some interesting glimpses of his life 
during these silent months from Coillard's letters. 
An apparatus for a tube well, which was to end all 
their water troubles, arrived, and Waddell could 
hardly contain himself for joy. " Two hours, and I 
shall have it going," he exclaimed. But this time he 
had to confess failure. After toiling from morning 
till night for weeks, the last tube was sunk, but no 
water came ! It was too short. 

One of the visitors who came to inspect the church 
in course of erection was Queen Mokwac. She 
pretended to be immensely interested as Coillard ex- 
plained the various parts, and took her round the 
other buildings of the Mission, but at a certain point 
she dropped on a chair, tore her shoes from her feet, 
and threw them on the ground. " My father," she 
said, " give me some medicine for my feet ; they are 
hurting me dreadfully." 



182 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

" Medicine for the feet ! Come, Mokwae, put these 
boots aside, they are too small for you." 

" Then my father will give me his shoes." 

" Mine would not fit you, Mokwae." 

" Ah ! " she said, casting her eyes on Waddell's 
shoes, " there are some that will do." 

" I have no others, Morena" said Waddell. " And 
you wish the Morena Mokwae to go barefoot ? " 
demanded the Queen. For once Waddell found him- 
self without an answer. 

While the building of the church was proceeding, 
other improvements were being carried out for the 
comfort of the Station. A causeway was laid between 
it and the village so that the people might come and 
go dryshod in time of flood and bad weather. 
" Strange ' women and children can even in winter 
splash through mud and water," wrote Coillard, " for the 
sake of selling a little flour or getting a few beads, 
and the men do not hesitate to do the same thing, in 
order to come and lounge about, but on Sunday it is 
cold ; they are afraid of the water, they have no canoes, 
and how can they come to the preaching ? " A canal 
also was constructed, and Waddell threw a bridge 
across it, under which the canoes might pass, which 
was the wonder, and at first the terror of the Barotsi. 
They declared they could never venture on it. The 
very thought of it hurt the soles of their feet, and 
made them feel giddy. But the boys led the way, 
other venturesome spirits followed, and the bridge 
became the fashion. Only the aristocrats tabooed it, 
fearing to compromise their dignity, and continued to 
cross by canoe. 

On the nth of March, 1894, the church was dedi- 




u 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 133 

cated. The event lasted over two days, and both 
king and people seemed to be impressed. "What other 
white man has ever taken the trouble," said Lewanika, 
making a speech to his people, " to put up a building, 
not for his own exclusive use but for ours ? Do you 
not see that there is something within the breast of 
these missionaries ? What advantage do they reap by 
wearying themselves thus for us ? Say ! And you, 
Barotsi, who despise their instruction and refuse to 
send your children to school, are you so very wise 
and intelligent? Perish our customs and super- 
stitions ! They keep us chained in darkness and 
carry us on to ruin. I see it ! Yes, I see it ! " Poor 
Lewanika, how often has he professed to see it ! A 
hymn was struck up, and king, chiefs, and people 
formed a procession and marched into the church, 
while Waddell occupied his usual post as policeman 
at the door. The service lasted two hours, and 
attention and seriousness were maintained to the close. 
That in itself was no small victory, for the Barotsi 
live to be amused. The last thing they ever think of 
is to be serious. There is nothing serious to them in 
life. They never say that a man is in good health, 
but that he " is amusing himself." If all is well at the 
Capital, their way of expressing it is, " The king is 
amusing himself, and the drums are still beating." 
How difficult was the task of Coillard and Waddell in 
sowing the first seeds of the Gospel in such a shallow 
soil can be understood. On the momentary serious- 
ness of the people, or even of the king, they could 
place little reliance. 

On the day following the dedication came the 
school examination and a treat for the children. 



134 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Though far from well and suffering great pain, 
Waddell threw himself into the games of the children 
with his usual zest, and greatly delighted them with 
a rocket exhibition at the close. Altogether it was 
a red-letter day. Waddell's church remains still 
the church of Lealui, admired for its beauty by 
native and missionary, and a monument to his skill 
and industry, in the face of extraordinary difficulties. 

Some time before this, he had met Louise Keck, 
who had come to take charge of the school in Sesheke, 
and be a companion to her sister, Mrs. Goy, wife of 
one of the missionaries. Miss Keck was an accom- 
plished woman, the daughter of a French missionary 
in Basutoland, and by her knowledge of the language 
and customs of the country was admirably fitted 
to be the wife of a missionary. Waddell became 
engaged to her, and a new brightness and happiness 
came into his life. Coillard was delighted, and felt 
that with the addition of Miss Keck to the Lealui 
mission, its prosperity would be secured. So Waddell 
began to make preparations for setting up house at 
the Capital. It was no light task, for all his furniture 
had to be made with his own hand. 

But before his marriage it was imperative, in the 
critical state of his health, that he should go on 
furlough. " He suffered more and more," says Miss 
Kiener. And the prospect of seeing once more his 
dear ones, and seeking new strength in the home- 
land, filled him with delight. " Waddell is going to 
Scotland," wrote Coillard. " He has well earned this 
rest. Devoted as he was personally to my dear wife 
and myself, it is for the Mission that he has toiled and 
exhausted his strength. Mr. Waddell is not an 



LAST DAYS AT LEALUI 135 

ordinary workman. When I think of his capacities as 
a cabinetmaker, of the wages he was earning, of all 
the efforts that were made to secure his services, I say 
that this man, in giving himself as he did for our 
Mission, which was still only a project, has given us 
a splendid example of self-sacrifice. Far be it from 
me to sound his praises ' The work of his hands 
does that — a colossal work (let me use the word, it 
is not too strong), an incessant labour for nearly ten 
years. We have had missionary helpers of that 
stamp, such as Gosselin and Maeder, but they are rare. 
It is because it needs a more than ordinary 
measure of grace cheerfully to occupy this humble 
place in the mission field, and to glorify God in it. 
It is a living example of that beautiful word, ' mind 
not high things.' " 

In July, 1894, Waddell went down the river by boat 
to Kazungula to attend a conference of all the 
European missionaries on the Zambesi. What a 
transformation the place had undergone ! Ten years 
before, when he crossed with the waggons, there had 
been nothing but a shadeless tree at the Ford, and he 
had slept under a poor shelter of straw. Now there 
was a flourishing mission station, a considerable 
village, and Prince Litia was about to be installed as 
Prefect of Kazungula. Flags floated on the trees, 
and a motto of welcome was displayed on the bank, 
as Coillard and he reached the landing-place. No 
sooner were they on dry land, than a circle was 
formed, and all joined in a hymn of thanksgiving. 

It was Waddell's intention to return to Lealui after 
the conference, make his final preparations, put the cart 
in order for the journey down-country, and start with 



136 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Coillard in a few weeks. But he became too ill to 
return, and Coillard had to go back without him. 
Though he little knew it, he had left Lealui for ever. 
At the age of thirty-six his active work was done. 
The story we have now to tell, in place of the 
strenuous labours of these past years, is one of 
increasing pain and weakness borne with heroic 
courage and cheerfulness. Few men have lived a 
more selfless life than Waddell during those ten years 
on the Zambesi. The work he did was gigantic, and 
though he lacked some of the gifts of the great 
Uganda missionary, he has not inaptly been called 
the " Mackay of the Zambesi." His work was purely 
pioneer, and he saw few fruits of his labours, but it 
was enough for him to know that he was doing it for 
his Master. On the fly-leaf of his Bible we found 
written, and they express the motive of his life, these 
words from Gladstone, " There is no greater honour to 
a man than to sufl"er for the sake of what he thinks to 
be righteous." Coillard and Waddell leaned on one 
another with a pathetic dependence, Coillard on his 
practical skill, and he on Coillard's spiritual strength. 
And if he was able to do much for Coillard, the great 
missionary did also much for him. In constant inter- 
course through years of loneliness with that heroic 
soul, he rose to a spiritual height that otherwise could 
scarcely have been possible. But seldom has it been 
purchased at so great a price. 



CHAPTER XI 

" THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ONLY STAND AND WAIT " 

FOR several months Waddell lingered on at 
Kazungula in great weakness, waiting for some 
means of getting down country. So weak was he that 
he began to have doubts of ever being able to return 
to Lealui, and wrote Coillard to this effect. "You 
must be very low," writes Coillard in answer, " when 
you ask me to give up all hope of having your help 
again. It gave me a great shock, and I grieve to see 
you so much cast down. May the Lord bring you 
back a cheerful, happy man ! " 

At last he joined some hunters going south, in whose 
company he had a dreadful time. The party consisted 
of a gentleman's son from England, travelling with an 
attendant, and some native servants. The man 
quarrelled with his attendant, the natives ran away, 
and for three days the party was stuck in a bog, in 
a pouring rain, without fire of any kind. At last 
Waddell, though very ill, took the waggon in charge, 
and brought them to Buluwayo, where he was glad to 
see the end of them. Dr. Jameson, of the British 
South African Company, heard of his arrival, and 
invited him to an interview. Jameson was so im- 
pressed with the valuable information about the 
country which he was able to furnish, that he wired to 



138 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Rhodes in Capetown, advising him of his coming, and 
urging him to see him. As the first Britisher who had 
spent any length of time in Barotsiland, his knowledge 
of country and people was of the greatest service to 
the Company. At Buluwayo he attached himself to 
a Boer trekking down to Mafeking, with whom he had 
an equally trying experience. The Boer treated his 
native servant so unmercifully that he felt compelled 
to interfere. In the end the native escaped into 
" Victoria's country," " where," said the poor creature, 
"the Boer cannot touch me." In Mafeking, Waddell 
visited and spent a night with John Moffat, the 
missionary, son of Dr. Moffat, whose life story, as told 
from his mother's lips, had first kindled his missionary 
enthusiasm. He then came on to Kimberley, where 
he went into hospital, and remained for three weeks 
under the care of Dr. Mackenzie, son of the well-known 
missionary and statesman. Dr. Mackenzie seems to 
have diagnosed his case from the start, but did not 
venture to tell him the terrible truth. 

All this time Coillard followed Waddell with affec- 
tionate letters, bewailing his loss at his departure. 

Miss Keck, who for months had been suffering from 
constant fever, had also been compelled to leave the 
field, and this seemed to put the hope of Waddell's 
return to the Zambesi further off than ever. "And 
really, can it be," writes Coillard in April, 1895, "that 
we lose you altogether ? To possess you with such a 
worthy partner as Miss Keck seemed to me a great 
increase of blessing. But to lose you both at once is 
a calamity, for which, I confess, I was not at all 
prepared. It is not that I personally need you. My 
work is nearly done, my career is nearing its end, but 



"THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT" 139 

you have a place among us such as a Mackay might 
have been proud of, and which you can get nowhere 
else." Again, in July, 1895, Coillard writes: "And 
now, where are you ? When will this reach you ? In 
what circumstances ? I think often of you, and you 
know with what feelings of prayerful affection. I 
cannot, I really cannot make up my mind that 
you are lost to the work and to me. I still hope 
that the Lord will graciously and marvellously open 
your way to come back. Why should you not also 
with your own eyes see the glory of God in that 
land where you have seen the glory of the Prince 
of Darkness ? The Lord, if He needs you, as I 
believe He does, can say to you, ' I am He that 
healeth thee, and you shall be healed.' " 

When Waddell arrived in Capetown, he was sent 
for by Rhodes. He found the great man most kind. 
He was seated before large maps of the country, and 
proceeded at once to business. " Now follow my 
pencil," he said, and together they went over the 
boundaries of the British Protectorate, to which a 
Commissioner was about to be sent. " I shall never 
be satisfied," said Waddell, who was always a strong 
Imperialist, pointing to the map, "until all that is 
coloured red." At a second interview, Rhodes 
discussed with him the resources of the country, in 
timber, iron, &c., about all of which he could give him 
valuable first-hand information. 

He stayed a few weeks in Capetown, where he saw 
the work of the Salvation Army for the first time, and 
then sailed for England, arriving in Glasgow in June, 
1895. His brother, George, who had gone to meet 
him at the Central Station, received a dreadful shock. 



140 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

Thirteen years before he had parted with a robust, 
fresh-coloured young fellow, and there stood before 
him an old man, prematurely grey, with the stamp of 
death only too plain upon his face. 

He came home to Apna Place, Uddingston, to 
spend his furlough with his mother and sister. He 
had planned but a short sojourn, and intended, after 
a six months' rest, to return to the mission field. So 
he set himself with a feverish eagerness to learn all he 
could of every branch of practical knowledge, grafting 
of trees, &c., which he might teach the natives. " Oh, 
Willie, you are too eager," his mother would often say. 
He had also numerous arrangements to make about 
boats and machinery for Mr. Coillard. Should his 
health not permit of his return to the Zambesi, he had 
thoughts of mission work at the home of Miss Keck 
in Basutoland. Meanwhile, Coillard was greatly 
missing his practical skill, and poured out his love 
and sense of need in his letters. " My thoughts have 
run after you," he writes from the lonely post at Lealui. 
" Oh, how I long to know how you are, and when you 
are coming back ? I would go straight to Kazungula 
to welcome you back, my dear old companion. I 
shall anxiously await your letters." After some 
inquiries about designs, boats, and other things, he 
concludes: "You know our French word au revoir ; 
it is better, more cheerful than good-bye, and it is my 
salutation to you. Aii revoir then at Lealui." 

The long-delayed Commissioner to Barotsiland was 
now on the point of leaving, and Rhodes had written 
to Earl Grey, Chairman of the British South African 
Chartered Company, advising the Commissioner to 
see Waddell. So in the month of December, 1895, 



" THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT " 141 

Grey asked Waddell to come up to London, at the 
Company's expense, and meet Mr. Hervey, the 
Commissioner, who was sailing on the nth of January. 
Waddell went, and as he sat at breakfast with Earl 
Grey and the Commissioner, a wire arrived with the 
news of the Jameson Raid. They appeared so stunned 
and upset, that Waddell always declared that whoever 
were implicated in the raid, he was sure Earl Grey 
knew nothing of it. 

While in London he went to consult Dr. Radclifife 
Croker, a specialist in tropical diseases, as to his 
trouble. In a long interview, Croker told him that 
he was suffering from an incurable disease, contracted 
on the Zambesi, and could never hope to return. 
All ideas of marriage and future work must be given 
up. He came home to Uddingston, stunned by the 
dreadful blow. 

As we can understand, the doctor's verdict was 
almost as staggering to Coillard as to Waddell. The 
news reached him at Buluwayo Hospital, where he 
had been taken ill on his way down country, en route 
for Europe. Writing in bed, i6th February, 1896, 
he says : " What a terrible shock, the astounding 
news which you break and confide in me ! Can it 
really be possible ? When Dr. Mackenzie examined 
you in Kimberley, he came to the same conclusion, 
but it seemed so extraordinary, that he took counsel 
with his colleagues, who evidently veiled their opinion 
not to crush you. I feel deeply grieved, I need not 
tell. It comes as a thunderstroke, upsetting all 
your dreams, all your plans, blighting all your 
prospects. And yet, what shall we say ? Is it not 
He who has done it who never makes a mistake 



142 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

and does all things well ? He shall give you grace, 
my dear friend, and His grace shall be sufficient to 
you to bear, to suffer, in glorifying Him. . . . Poor 
Zambesi Mission ! What a sifting, and at a time 
when all of us seemed so necessary. Good-bye, my 
poor friend ; but no, not poor, but privileged. All 
that we do, endure, and suffer for His sake endears 
us to Jesus." 

The grace of which Coillard speaks was given to 
Waddell in rare measure, and although he was now a 
condemned man, and his active work was done, the 
thirteen years that followed, before his final summons 
came, were in some respects the grandest years of 
his life. 

He was slow to believe, however, that his work was 
ended. In the beginning of the following year (1896) 
he went up for six months' treatment to a London 
hospital. It was at the time when Dr. Jameson was 
lying in prison in London, and he would have greatly 
liked to see him, but did not find it possible. When 
there, he had the joy of meeting Coillard again, who 
had come for a missionary tour in England, with two 
of his Zambesi boys. He returned to Uddingston 
considerably improved in health, and for a time 
hoped that the prognostications of Dr. Croker would 
be falsified, and he would be able to return to the 
mission field. He communicated the hopeful news 
to Coillard, who, writing from France, August, 1896, 
says : " What a mercy of God that you should have 
so far recovered ! What a joy it must have been to 
your sister and mother, if I judge by the joy it was to 
me ! The Lord, in His loving-kindness, complete what 
He has so graciously begun ! I do not despair to see 



" THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT " 143 

your old self once more before I return to the 
Zambesi. The prospect of building again is the 
dark shadow of my return, especially as I may not 
have my good old friend. Take care of yourself and 
make spiritual provision for Africa, wherever the 
Lord may lead you. It is sweet, is it not, for the 
pilgrim to go on rejoicing in the Lord and singing, 

" ' He leadeth me ! He leadeth me ? ' 

Oh, yes, our own dear Willie, He leadeth you, and He 
leadeth me. Only, let us be willing to follow where 
He leads. I can hear nothing of my lost luggage, 
and I have such an urgent need of my papers and 
photos. But the Lord's vocabulary is not our own ; 
what we call urgent He may call useless. When we 
meet I shall have a lot to ask you about boats and 
many other things." Again, in September of the 
same year, Coillard writes from France : " If only 
you knew how rich you are in friends, and how many 
everywhere inquire after you. It is well known, I 
daresay, that you are one of the founders of our 
Mission." Up to the end of 1896 Waddell still had 
some faint hope of being able to return, if not to the 
Zambesi, at least to Basutoland. In December we 
find Coillard writing to him : " I wonder when you 
shall be able to decide definitely about your future. 
You think, and make us think, that it is out of the 
question to return to the Zambesi, but you have never 
said so positively. Do your plans take a more defi- 
nite shape about your future and your marriage ? " 
But it soon became evident that all dreams of future 
work or marriage must be finally abandoned. For a 
time he seemed to be recovering, but a violent attack 



144 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

of influenza during this winter put an end to all hope, 
and Waddell had to set his face to the dark future. 
He had now a clear understanding of the ordeal he 
was to be called upon to face, but he went to meet it 
bravely. His engagement was finally broken off. 
Miss Keck, in great distress, wrote offering to come 
to Scotland and nurse him, but as he had a loving 
mother and sister beside him, her kindly offer was 
declined. This lady continues to-day in mission work 
in Basutoland, one of the most highly respected of 
the Basutoland missionaries. In the Boer war 
her home was raided, and Waddell's gun, which had 
kept hunger many times from his door, and which was 
now in her possession, was commandeered by the Boers. 

During this year Khama visited Glasgow, and 
Waddell went to see his old friend. Khama greeted 
him in Sesuto as soon as he caught sight of him, and 
the two revived memories of old days. His other 
royal friend, Lewanika, also did not forget him, and 
sent him about this time a present of a handsome 
leopard skin. 

Coillard had great faith in Waddell's judgment on 
all practical matters, and during his stay in Europe 
kept sending him continually letters of inquiry. 
" Remember about the boats ; go to the Clyde, the 
place of all places in the world to see wonders, and 
tell me something of what you see, with perhaps 
a little drawing." Writing from France in January, 
1897, he says: "I have been to see some very 
ingenious houses ; the frame is iron tube, strong and 
light, the walls are made of a thick metallic matting. 
I wish you knew the English house where such things 
are made, that you might express an opinion." 



"THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT" 145 

For the whole of that year Waddell was able to 
go about, although he was never free from pain. 
His thoughts were continually occupied with the 
Mission. He went to the boat-yards, examined 
machinery, and constructed models and patterns for 
Coillard. As late as May, 1898, we find Coillard, 
still in the country, writing : " What about the bed- 
stead and chair for travelling? Can you attend to 
that without much fatigue ? I do not want to bother 
you, and yet I know what a pleasure it is to you to 
do something for your old friend." But the next 
letter brought him bad news, and in August he 
writes : " I was greatly grieved to hear of you not 
being so well. The Lord deal with you tenderly. 
Do not trouble about my things ; I am not in a great 
hurry." 

Later in the same month he writes : " I long to 
know how you are. The last account you gave of 
yourself was far from good. How often I do think of 
you. Do not have any hard thoughts, my dear 
Waddell, about the Lord's dealings with you. To 
accept meekly the Lord's will is to do it. Never 
doubt but that all things must work together for your 
good. What you have done for Him is not vain. 
You have sowed, but you shall certainly reap. The 
time of my leaving, is drawing nigh. When I think 
of all that is before me, and you, my dear fellow, are 
not with me, courage fails me. The man who could 
have done something of what you did fails me at the 
last moment." 

Coillard sailed from Europe for the last time in 
December, 1898, but before his departure came to see 
Waddell. It was their last meeting. The old man 
10 



146 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

was loath and sad to go away without his brave 
helper, but he saw only too clearly that though the 
spirit still was willing, the flesh was growing every 
day weaker. 

We shall pass briefly over the next years of 
Waddell's life. They were years of constant pain 
and languishing, but the last thing he would have 
wished was that we should enlarge upon his suffer- 
ings. Though, truly, if ever man was made perfect 
by suffering, it was he. 

So long as he was able he did what services he 
could for the Mission, and kept up a regular cor- 
respondence with the missionaries on the field. He 
was also fond of reading, and read widely in biography, 
history, and travel. But as his trouble proceeded, 
his eyesight began to go, and latterly failed so rapidly 
that, by the beginning of 190 1, he was totally blind. 
He saw the first buildings of the Glasgow Exhibition 
in process of construction in 1900, and looked forward 
to it greatly, but before the opening day he could see 
no more. All this time he was suffering great pain. 
Before his blindness came on he endured torturing 
pains in the head, which were like to drive him crazy. 
But through all he maintained a bright and happy 
spirit. " Pains to right of me," he would say blithely 
in his worst moments, " pains to left of me, pains in 
front of me, shooting and stinging." He said he had 
every kind of pain, the "jumping kind," the " throb- 
bing kind," and the " stinging kind." The pains in 
his hands and feet were as if thumbscrews and toe- 
screws were clamped upon them. When suffering 
agonies from neuralgia, he would say brightly, 
"Just another to the number to keep me from weary- 



" THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT " 147 

ing." Nothing could daunt his heroic, happy spirit. 
He became crippled and helpless, as well as blind, 
but went on glorifying God in the fire. 

It was a great regret to him that he could not go 
and meet Lewanika when he visited this country in 
1902, to attend the coronation. Lewanika was greatly 
distressed to hear of his sad condition, and kept 
repeating, " Poor Willie." 

During these years of trial nothing brought him 
greater comfort than the letters that came from 
Coillard. Twice a year, at least, Coillard found time 
to write him a long letter, giving him all the news of 
the work. " It grieves me deeply," he writes from 
Lealui in 1901, "to think of you as a blind man, and 
I wish it were in my power to relieve you by nursing 
or reading. All I can do is to pray that God's 
countenance may shine all the more brightly in your 
soul. Your song now must be more than ever — 

" ' Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, 
It is not m£;Ai if Thou be near.' 

Be of good cheer, my dear friend. In the hands of 
God you are in good hands. . . . Strange to say, the 
young fall and I am still standing. Has the Lord 
some need of me yet ? But I have grown lazy ; the 
very prospect of some manual work makes me shrink, 
and yet I have no more, and never shall have a kind 
Waddell to do things for me." 

Over and over again in his letters does the sense of 
loss at Waddell's withdrawal find expression. " How 
often I wish I had you here as in days gone by," we 
find him writing in February, 1902. " It is a great 
trial of faith to know that you are suffering, that you 



148 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

are blind. I cannot realise it, nor the people either. 
They all inquire after you, and ask if you are not 
better. Many of them cannot understand the deal- 
ings of God with His people." 

In October, 1902, he writes : " I think much of you, 
and talk of you. I fear sometimes I may set you up 
as a pattern in such a way that my friends may see 
it as a sign of my growing old. Ah ! there are many 
things that make me think and talk of you. The 
footbridge, although repaired repeatedly, has grown 
so old and shaky, and the people are so fond of pick- 
ing up any loose pieces of wood that we are obliged 
to pull it down altogether. It is no more safe to pass 
over. It is painful to me, as it is one of your last 
works here. I live again those wonderful days of 
1 89 1, and I am sure you will think of and pray for 
me as a beloved friend. We have suffered together ; 
you have upheld me when I was sinking ; those times 
are not to be forgotten. ... I do not write such long 
letters to everybody, but you are somebody, and that 
is why." 

The next letter, February, 1903, tells of the return 
of Lewanika from his visit to this country. " His 
visit to Scotland made a deep impression on him, and 
those who accompanied him. He was touched by the 
kindness showered on him by our friends, all 
Christians. He could not have believed that people 
could be so kind, and nothing could explain it to him 
but the love of God in their hearts." How much the 
old man missed Waddell can be learned from a 
sentence in the same letter : " I am very badly housed, 
and it has been impossible to find anyone to build me 
a proper house. And now I am getting old, and I 



" THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT " 149 

don't care for it much. I long for the heavenly 
mansions where I am going, the land of light and 
rest." 

The next letter in our hands is dated from Lealui, 
March, 1894. It concludes: "Good-bye, my dear 
Waddell. You are not forgotten here. We often 
speak of you, and your works do so still better than 
we. May you enjoy more and more the light of 
God's countenance ! My affectionate regards to 
your dear mother and sister and brother, your faith- 
ful friend — F. Coillard." These were the last words 
he received from the best friend he ever had on 
earth, outside his own home. The death of Coillard 
in May, 1904, some two months after the above 
letter was written, was a great shock to Waddell. 
He had lately been saddened by the deaths of 
other friends on the mission field, and he began to 
look and long for his release. He knew that for 
him there was nothing but increasing pain and 
weakness this side the veil. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE CLOSING YEARS 

IT was my good fortune to see much of Waddell 
during the last four years of his life, and to enjoy 
many a long talk about those days on the Zambesi. 
As was natural to one blind, and laid aside from active 
service, he loved to dwell in the past and speak about 
his work. If he had the slightest suspicion that you 
wished to make a hero of him, he shrank back into 
his shell and would say no more. But if you allowed 
him to talk on in his own way, with that doric which 
Africa left untouched, the scenes came vividly before 
your eyes, and you felt as if you were actually with him 
on the field. He liked especially to speak of Lewanika, 
and tell of their conversations, as the king sat beside 
him for hours in his workshop watching him at his 
craft. And you could not be long in his company 
without perceiving that the hero of his heart was 
Coillard. It may be said that he laid down his life 
for Jesus Christ and Frangois Coillard. 

But he did not dwell only in the past ; he was 
keenly interested in all that went on in the present, 
down to the latest newspaper event. However, the 
focus of his interest was missions, and he studied 
closely the progress of missionary work all over the 
world. The Mission with which he had been con- 
150 



THE CLOSING YEARS 151 

nected occupied, of course, first place, and he followed 
all that was going on in Barotsiland down to the 
minutest detail. Neither, to its honour, did the 
Mission forget him. The Paris Evangelical Mission 
kept in close touch with him, and though it had no 
legal obligations, gave him a generous allowance to 
the end, and in every way showed an appreciation of 
his work. And when any of its missionaries were in 
this country, they never failed to come and see him, 
and bring greetings from the field. 

I refrain to speak of his sufferings during those last 
years, except to say that no man I ever knew suffered 
so greatly. The disease made slow but fatal progress, 
and the pain he had to endure was at times excruciat- 
ing. But he bore his sufferings with heroic cheerful- 
ness. " I have not only to suffer," he would say, " but 
suffer willingly and cheerfully, and I'll try to do it." 
He had his moments of depression, but they were 
passing, and few men have borne so heavy a burden 
with so brave a heart. He greatly missed the 
privilege of going to church and sharing in the 
inspiration of common worship. "If only I could go 
and hear them sing," he would often say. 

During those four years sorrow twice visited the 
home and left him lonelier. In 1906 his brother David 
was taken suddenly from a life of usefulness, leav- 
ing a widow and two young boys. And it greatly 
perplexed him that the active should be taken and he 
should be left. In the following year his mother died. 
On her had fallen the sad lot of sitting day by day 
beside him and watching with pain his slow decline, 
a burden which she bore bravely. Her going home 
left a great blank in his life, and he prayed that his 



152 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

call might soon come. Every morning when his 
mother came into his room she took up her New 
Testament and read a chapter to him. " You are just 
my chaplain," he would say in his cheery way. 
Though he could not see his mother's ageing face, he 
watched with sorrow her voice growing feebler and 
feebler. Then came the day when she could come to 
his room no longer, and he sat beside her in her bed- 
room with stricken heart, while her life flickered out. 

All these years he was tenderly nursed by a loving 
sister. What she did for him no one, save God, 
knows. She gave twelve years of her life to tending 
him. For seven years she was never out of the house 
a single night, and in the last years was seldom 
out by day. Her face paled and her hair whitened, 
but she carried through her task, for she felt it was 
given her of God to do. His one great fear was lest 
she would be taken away before him, but he was 
spared this trial, though before the end her strength 
was nearly spent. She showed an unselfishness and 
self-sacrifice worthy to be set beside his own. 

Despite his great weakness of body, his mental 
faculties remained to the close as clear as day. He 
took great pleasure in reading, and book after book 
was read to him by his sister. He loved especially 
missionary biography. The " Life of Coillard," 
published in 1907, was devoured with eagerness. The 
last book that was read to him was the " Life of 
Stewart of Lovedale," v/ho was a man after his own 
heart. 

The closing days were very pathetic. My " fear is 
not to die, but to live," he said to his sister. He spoke 
frequently of the joy of getting home. " There will 



THE CLOSING YEARS 153 

be no more pain," he would say. " My ! will that no 
be grand ! " 

Through all the extreme sufferings of the last weeks 
there never escaped a murmur or a grumble. Once, 
when his sister quite broke down at the sight of what 
he had to endure, he sharply rebuked her. To a man 
in the same street whom he knew to be dying he sent 
the message : " Tell him that there's a grand time 
coming." 

During the last three weeks he was confined to bed, 
but remained conscious to the last. " It can't be 
long now," he said to his sister, " soon all will be over." 
Latterly his voice failed, and he could only speak 
in whispers. On Easter morning his sister read to 
him the Easter Service from the Book of Common 
Prayer, which was a great favourite. Easter always 
came to him with a new reviving. 

" Up from the grave He arose 
With a mighty triumph o'er His foes," 

he often sang in other days, for he loved to sing. 
All that was past for him, but his gracious, thankful 
spirit showed itself to the end. Nothing put to his 
lips would he touch until he had first asked a blessing. 
On Sabbath afternoon his sister offered him a cup of 
milk. " Wait a bit," he said, and he bowed his head 
and said grace before he touched it, though he could 
hardly speak. He took but a drop, and it was the 
last food he tasted. Later in the evening Miss 
Waddell heard him trying to speak, and bending over 
him caught the words, " Peace, perfect peace," but 
his voice died away in the effort. He spent some 
restless hours, and about one o'clock in the morning 



154 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

said to his sister, " I think I'll rest now, good-night." 
They were the last words he spoke, he fell asleep and 
never woke. The rest he longed for was come at 
last. He had, to use a favourite phrase of his, 
"outspanned for the last time." He died on the 
1 2th of April, 1909, at the age of fifty-one. 

It is needless for me to review his life and 
character, for his journal, from which I have often 
quoted, has already spoken for itself He was a man 
of faith. He lived under the power of the Unseen. 
God's presence and guidance were very real facts to 
his soul. He never blamed the hand that had so 
sorely smitten him. If he blamed anyone, it was 
himself for not having been more careful of his life 
and opportunity. His one regret was that he had 
not been able to do far more, and had left so much 
undone. " Yes, knowing all it would mean," he 
would say, " I would do it again to-morrow, and count 
it a privilege." 

He was one of the most modest men I have known, 
and never would allow one to say that he had done 
anything of any consequence. Some time before his 
death he asked his sister to burn his papers, which 
she had the good sense not to do. He took as much 
trouble to avoid fame as some do to obtain it. But a 
life like this, even though spent far away on the 
Zambesi, cannot, and certainly ought not, to be hid. 

No feature of his character was more admirable 
than his indomitable cheerfulness. His was a truly 
invincible spirit. Like Paul, he was "troubled on 
every side, yet not distressed, perplexed but not in 
despair, cast down, but not destroyed, always bearing 
about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that 



THE CLOSING YEARS 155 

the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in his 
body." So far from being a canvasser for sympathy, 
he exercised a ministry of sympathy and comfort in 
the village which was his home. People came to him 
with their burdens, and never went away without a 
lightened heart. The cheery " Come in " with which 
he greeted your voice at the door was an inspira- 
tion in itself. Many a time have I come away 
ashamed and reproached at my little faith, when 
I saw the faith and courage with which he carried 
his terrible burden. Few saw him during the later 
years, but those who enjoyed that unspeakable 
privilege realised that he had far more to give them 
than they could ever give him. 

After his death testimonies as to his life and work 
came from many quarters. We shall quote but two. 
M. A. Boegner, Director of the Paris Evangelical 
Mission, wrote : " He has been a devoted servant to 
the Mission. He was truly selfless and wholly con- 
secrated to the Master. His personal affection for 
M. Coillard was to our great missionary a comfort 
and a strength. The way in which he accepted his 
painful condition, his patience and childlike submis- 
sion to the Will of God, has been perhaps a greater 
testimony of his faith than his work itself. He has 
glorified the Lord still more in his sufferings than by 
his labours." 

And his old co-worker, Miss Kiener, wrote : " Mr. 
Waddell is not forgotten on the Zambesi, either by 
king or people, who knew him as ' the man who 
could do all works,' and always found in him a friend 
ready to help. And we who loved him greatly 
missed him, and suffered with him in his sufferings. 



156 AN ARTISAN MISSIONARY 

His piety was deep, and his ardent desire was always 
to glorify God, It is a mystery that one so useful 
should have become the victim of so terrible a 
malady." 

Now he rests from his labours and his sufferings, 
and his works do follow him. 



PRINTED IN EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND. 



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