As usual, we were caught by rains after leaving Soana Molopo’s, and made our booths at the house of Mozinkwa, a most intelligent and friendly man belonging to Katema.  He had a fine large garden in cultivation, and well hedged round.  He had made the walls of his compound, or court-yard, of branches of the banian, which, taking root, had grown to be a live hedge of that tree.  Mozinkwa’s wife had cotton growing all round her premises, and several plants used as relishes to the insipid porridge of the country.  She cultivated also the common castor-oil plant, and a larger shrub (’Jatropha curcas’), which also yields a purgative oil.  Here, however, the oil is used for anointing the heads and bodies alone.  We saw in her garden likewise the Indian bringalls, yams, and sweet potatoes.  Several trees were planted in the middle of the yard, and in the deep shade they gave stood the huts of his fine family.  His children, all by one mother, very black, but comely to view, were the finest negro family I ever saw.  We were much pleased with the frank friendship and liberality of this man and his wife.  She asked me to bring her a cloth from the white man’s country; but, when we returned, poor Mozinkwa’s wife was in her grave, and he, as is the custom, had abandoned trees, garden, and huts to ruin.  They can not live on a spot where a favorite wife has died, probably because unable to bear the remembrance of the happy times they have spent there, or afraid to remain in a spot where death has once visited the establishment.  If ever the place is revisited, it is to pray to her, or make some offering.  This feeling renders any permanent village in the country impossible.

We learned from Mozinkwa that Soana Molopo was the elder brother of Katema, but that he was wanting in wisdom; and Katema, by purchasing cattle and receiving in a kind manner all the fugitives who came to him, had secured the birthright to himself, so far as influence in the country is concerned.  Soana’s first address to us did not savor much of African wisdom.

Friday, 10th.  On leaving Mozinkwa’s hospitable mansion we crossed another stream, about forty yards wide, in canoes.  While this tedious process was going on, I was informed that it is called the Mona-Kalueje, or brother of Kalueje, as it flows into that river; that both the Kalueje and Livoa flow into the Leeba; and that the Chifumadze, swollen by the Lotembwa, is a feeder of that river also, below the point where we lately crossed it.  It may be remarked here that these rivers were now in flood, and that the water was all perfectly clear.  The vegetation on the banks is so thickly planted that the surface of the earth is not abraded by the torrents.  The grass is laid flat, and forms a protection to the banks, which are generally a stiff black loam.  The fact of canoes being upon them shows that, though not large, they are not like the southern rivulets, which dry up during most of the year, and render canoes unnecessary.