As this was the first visit which Sekeletu had paid to this part of his dominions, it was to many a season of great joy.  The head men of each village presented oxen, milk, and beer, more than the horde which accompanied him could devour, though their abilities in that line are something wonderful.  The people usually show their joy and work off their excitement in dances and songs.  The dance consists of the men standing nearly naked in a circle, with clubs or small battle-axes in their hands, and each roaring at the loudest pitch of his voice, while they simultaneously lift one leg, stamp heavily twice with it, then lift the other and give one stamp with that; this is the only movement in common.  The arms and head are often thrown about also in every direction; and all this time the roaring is kept up with the utmost possible vigor; the continued stamping makes a cloud of dust ascend, and they leave a deep ring in the ground where they stood.  If the scene were witnessed in a lunatic asylum it would be nothing out of the way, and quite appropriate even, as a means of letting off the excessive excitement of the brain; but here gray-headed men joined in the performance with as much zest as others whose youth might be an excuse for making the perspiration stream off their bodies with the exertion.  Motibe asked what I thought of the Makololo dance.  I replied, “It is very hard work, and brings but small profit.”  “It is,” replied he, “but it is very nice, and Sekeletu will give us an ox for dancing for him.”  He usually does slaughter an ox for the dancers when the work is over.

The women stand by, clapping their hands, and occasionally one advances into the circle, composed of a hundred men, makes a few movements, and then retires.  As I never tried it, and am unable to enter into the spirit of the thing, I can not recommend the Makololo polka to the dancing world, but I have the authority of no less a person than Motibe, Sekeletu’s father-in-law, for saying “it is very nice.”  They often asked if white people ever danced.  I thought of the disease called St. Vitus’s dance, but could not say that all our dancers were affected by it, and gave an answer which, I ought to be ashamed to own, did not raise some of our young countrywomen in the estimation of the Makololo.

As Sekeletu had been waiting for me at his mother’s, we left the town as soon as I arrived, and proceeded down the river.  Our speed with the stream was very great, for in one day we went from Litofe to Gonye, a distance of forty-four miles of latitude; and if we add to this the windings of the river, in longitude the distance will not be much less than sixty geographical miles.  At this rate we soon reached Sesheke, and then the town of Linyanti.