Child of Storm | Page 3

with Zulu beliefs that a
man should be haunted by the ghost of one whom he has murdered or
betrayed, or, to be more accurate, that the spirit ("umoya") should enter
into the slayer and drive him mad. Or, in such a case, that spirit might
bring misfortune upon him, his family, or his tribe.
H. RIDER HAGGARD.

CONTENTS

I. ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA II. THE
MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI III. THE BUFFALO WITH THE CLEFT
HORN IV. MAMEENA V. TWO BUCKS AND THE DOE VI. THE
AMBUSH VII. SADUKO BRINGS THE MARRIAGE GIFT VIII.
THE KING'S DAUGHTER IX. ALLAN RETURNS TO ZULULAND
X. THE SMELLING-OUT XI. THE SIN OF UMBELAZI XII.
PANDA'S PRAYER XIII. UMBELAZI THE FALLEN XIV. UMBEZI
AND THE BLOOD-ROYAL XV. MAMEENA CLAIMS THE KISS
XVI. MAMEENA--MAMEENA--MAMEENA!
CHAPTER I

ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
We white people think that we know everything. For instance, we think
that we understand human nature. And so we do, as human nature
appears to us, with all its trappings and accessories seen dimly through
the glass of our conventions, leaving out those aspects of it which we
have forgotten or do not think it polite to mention. But I, Allan
Quatermain, reflecting upon these matters in my ignorant and
uneducated fashion, have always held that no one really understands
human nature who has not studied it in the rough. Well, that is the
aspect of it with which I have been best acquainted.
For most of the years of my life I have handled the raw material, the
virgin ore, not the finished ornament that is smelted out of it--if, indeed,
it is finished yet, which I greatly doubt. I dare say that a time may come
when the perfected generations--if Civilisation, as we understand it,
really has a future and any such should be allowed to enjoy their hour
on the World--will look back to us as crude, half-developed creatures
whose only merit was that we handed on the flame of life.
Maybe, maybe, for everything goes by comparison; and at one end of
the ladder is the ape-man, and at the other, as we hope, the angel. No,
not the angel; he belongs to a different sphere, but that last expression
of humanity upon which I will not speculate. While man is man--that is,

before he suffers the magical death-change into spirit, if such should be
his destiny--well, he will remain man. I mean that the same passions
will sway him; he will aim at the same ambitions; he will know the
same joys and be oppressed by the same fears, whether he lives in a
Kafir hut or in a golden palace; whether he walks upon his two feet or,
as for aught I know he may do one day, flies through the air. This is
certain: that in the flesh he can never escape from our atmosphere, and
while he breathes it, in the main with some variations prescribed by
climate, local law and religion, he will do much as his forefathers did
for countless ages.
That is why I have always found the savage so interesting, for in him,
nakedly and forcibly expressed, we see those eternal principles which
direct our human destiny.
To descend from these generalities, that is why also I, who hate writing,
have thought it worth while, at the cost of some labour to myself, to
occupy my leisure in what to me is a strange land--for although I was
born in England, it is not my country--in setting down various
experiences of my life that do, in my opinion, interpret this our
universal nature. I dare say that no one will ever read them; still,
perhaps they are worthy of record, and who knows? In days to come
they may fall into the hands of others and prove of value. At any rate,
they are true stories of interesting peoples, who, if they should survive
in the savage competition of the nations, probably are doomed to
undergo great changes. Therefore I tell of them before they began to
change.
Now, although I take it out of its strict chronological order, the first of
these histories that I wish to preserve is in the main that of an extremely
beautiful woman--with the exception of a certain Nada, called "the
Lily," of whom I hope to speak some day, I think the most beautiful
that ever lived among the Zulus. Also she was, I think, the most able,
the most wicked, and the most ambitious. Her attractive name--for it
was very attractive as the Zulus said it, especially those of them who
were in love with her--was Mameena, daughter of Umbezi. Her other
name was Child of Storm (Ingane-ye-Sipepo, or, more freely and

shortly, O-we-Zulu), but the word "Ma-mee-na" had its origin in the