Traumatic Scar Tissue Management:

Massage Therapy Principles, Practice

and
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 CONTENTS

Foreword
Pamela Fitch BA RMT
Foreword
Sandy Fritz BS MS BCTMB

Preface
Acknowledgements
Glossary and key concepts
1 Introduction
2 Skin and fascia
3 The lymphatic system
4 Neurology
5 Wound healing and scars
6 Burns, mastectomies and other traumatic scars
7 Trauma
8 Communication and the therapeutic relationship
9 Assessment and treatment
Comparison of before and after treatment
10 Client and therapist self care
Appendix: Massage therapy research resources
Index
 FOREWORD

Everyone has scars: visible and invisible. Every scar contains stories or
secrets about a person’s life. They may even represent specific emotions
associated with the event that caused the wound. When someone shares the
story of their scar or allows the scar to be touched, he or she must recall the
story, feel the emotions and relive the secrets.
Applying massage therapy to manage scars reveals an ancient history.
‘Rubbing’, as the technique was described in antiquity, is mentioned by
Hippocrates. First World War nursing sisters massaged patients with complex
wounds and burns in order to help them gain function and mobility, long
before antibiotics or advanced orthopedic surgical techniques. And yet scar
massage therapy principles and evidence have, at times, been forgotten
within standard massage therapy training. The reasons for this avoidance
seem unclear considering how apt the treatment can be for certain scar
conditions.
Once a therapist has acknowledged a scar, questions immediately surface and
the therapist must connect with the individual’s history and personality. By
asking about a scar, a therapist must engage interpersonally and behave
compassionately. It is possible that the client may feel pride regarding a scar.
Or the individual may feel embarrassed or even ashamed of the scar. It is
impossible to simply touch a scar without considering the story or asking
questions: what does this scar represent? How did it happen? Did it hurt?
Does it hurt now? How does this scar affect the client’s capacity to move or
function? Does this scar affect the client’s self-image negatively or
positively?
Massage therapists commonly encounter client scars when they effleurage
over the body. Many therapists may feel curious about the scar but until
recently, massage therapy training did not include specific knowledge or
clinical considerations about scar tissue. Traumatic Scar Tissue Management:
Massage Therapy Principles, Practice and Protocols addresses this problem
by synthesizing evidence into a comprehensive discussion on massage
therapy principles for scar conditions.
The authors include pathological and clinical considerations to help readers
absorb and apply new-found knowledge. They describe outcomes from a
biopsychosocial perspective rather than adhering to a biomedical model,
reflecting the truth about scars: once they become chronic, clients are the
experts in how the scars feel, move and contribute to or impair function. The
authors wisely emphasize the far-reaching consequences and life-altering
effects of traumatic scarring that may result in clients feeling betrayed by
their bodies. And they stress the importance of professionalism, boundaries
and good communication skills when addressing clients with scars. Clients
often share information about their scars that they may have not told anyone
else. Indeed, many clients are grateful for the opportunity to discuss scar
conditions because they might not have felt free enough to discuss them with
any other person.
In addition, Traumatic Scar Tissue Management: Massage Therapy
Principles, Practice and Protocols recognizes the need for client respect and
choice. Since clients are often protective or concerned about their scars,
therapists must educate the client about the possibilities for treatment and
establish a clear informed consent before proceeding. The authors
demonstrate the need for a transparent therapeutic process and discuss the
complexities of the client–therapist partnership at length.
The authors draw upon decades of clinical experience and perspective. I have
had the privilege of knowing Cathy Ryan for several years as both colleague
and friend. I have read her cogent and thoughtful articles in both Massage
Therapy Canada and Touch U with great interest. Our professional roles have
intersected for many years and when discussions arise regarding how to move
forward on a problem, Cathy’s quiet and articulate presence helps to find
practical and evidence-informed solutions. This book draws upon Cathy’s
passion for writing as well as her considerable knowledge about how fascia
works and how it might impact the development and treatment of scarring.
I first had the pleasure to meet Nancy Keeney Smith after she presented her
research at the 2013 Massage Therapy Foundation Research Conference in
Boston. Nancy shared case reports based on over 10 years’ work at
Children’s Burns Camp of North Florida. She told passionate, compelling
and remarkable stories about how basic massage therapy skills were able to
help camp survivors with a variety of scars and burns. I was fortunate to
continue our conversations when we met again at another seminar in New
Brunswick. Nancy understands the challenges of burn and scar survivors
completely. Her finely tuned clinical and interpersonal skills reflect decades
of hands-on care of this mostly hidden population.
This remarkable resource breaks new ground. It describes the wound healing
process and considers how therapists’ hands can reduce anxiety, pain,
inflammation, and tissue tension. It stitches together the importance of
manual therapies with collaborative therapeutic partnerships and therapist
selfcare. It positions the profession’s capacities to help clients with scars
within an outcomes-based framework that may be employed by educators,
massage therapists and researchers. To my knowledge, no other reference
comprehensively combines the etiology, and factors associated with scars
with massage therapy treatment guidelines and principles.
I hope that Traumatic Scar Tissue Management: Massage Therapy
Principles, Practice and Protocols inspires massage therapists to look
between its covers for answers to their questions and to seek evidence-
informed treatment solutions for client scars.

Pamela Fitch, BA, RMT

Author, Talking Body Listening Hands
Faculty, Algonquin College
June 2015
 FOREWORD

I am fond of saying that it takes a bushel basket full of knowledge and skill to
intelligently apply a teaspoon of treatment. The more complex a client
situation and story, the more you have to know to gently apply massage. This
textbook, Traumatic Scar Tissue Management: Massage Therapy Principles
Practice and Protocols, created by authors Nancy Keeney-Smith and Cathy
Ryan, reflects these sayings in a logical, intentional and intuitive way. The
text diligently but concisely presents the information and research necessary
to intelligently and intuitively support successful scar tissue formation or to
improve scar tissue function. A scar is a solution to the problem related to
injury. Because the healing process involves scar formation, we need to
respect how the body knits together and reforms the integrity of the body
after tissue damage.
The use of massage and other forms of manual therapy introduces mechanical
force by pushing and pulling on the tissue. Regardless of the style of massage
this is what is done. Skilful pushing and pulling during massage loads soft
tissue to produce a variety of strain patterns in the tissue to challenging the
tissue to respond. Clear intent during the massage sends clear message to the
tissues so the response is therapeutic. Therapeutic loading technique is the
overarching term used by the authors. Readers should be pleased with the
clear descriptions of methods in the assessment and treatment section of the
text.
When working with soft tissue scars, we need to consider many factors and
this book provides the necessary information to make informed decisions to
best interact with the each individual who seeks our help. The authors
skilfully weave together the various approaches used by massage and other
manual therapists without promoting one particular style. Scar tissue
management is an outcome and a process. Scar tissue management is not a
method or a technique or even a modality.
A scar is part of the person and cannot be separated from the experiences
related to the events that resulted in the scar. I have scars as many, if not all
people do. Some scars involve soft tissue. Some scars function well. Some
scars are complex. Some scars bind down and create limits. I had open heart
surgery in 2006. I have a scar on my chest that I massaged using methods
described in this text. It is a visible reminder that I am alive. Those that have
scars have stories. With massage methods we can support and sustain a
mobile and functioning scar. We can respectfully and compassionately listen
to the story. The authors have wisely included content in the book to help us
be therapeutic listeners. We need to understand and acknowledge the solution
the scar provided and we can help the scar evolve as the tissue function
changes and we heal.
If you are drawn to work with individuals and their scars, this book provides
the information needed. You however will need to allow each story the scar
tells teach you how to listen.

Sandy Fritz BS MS BCTMB

Lapeer, Michigan, USA
August 2015
 PREFACE

More people are surviving traumatic events than ever before and sometimes
survival can come with a price, in the form of detrimental scars.
Scars are not obligated to be problematic. In fact our bodies have an amazing,
innate capacity to heal wounds. However, the process does not always unfold
seamlessly and the end product is not always ideal. And sometimes scars can
be disingenuous, on the surface all may look good however, below the
surface the person’s reality can be a whole other story.
We wrote this book to help the myriad of patients whose journey of healing
and recovery doesn’t stop when their wounds are stitched and healed-over.
Facilitating the healing of wounds and minimizing the aesthetic, emotional
and functional impact of pathophysiological scars on the patient constitutes a
central focus of the authors’ clinical practice.
We have woven client stories, clinical anecdotes and relevant research into
each chapter in an effort to give full credence to the scientific, technical and
empathetic elements of the work.
In this book you will also find a robust chapter on communication and the
therapeutic relationship, because we recognize that as a healing tool,
establishing respectful connection, cultivating our patients’ sense of trust, and
our words can be every bit as therapeutic as our hands.
Whether you have a private practice, practice in a multi-modal clinical
setting, are an urban or rural therapist and no matter where you are on this
planet, the material covered in this book is relevant to your practice, because
wounds and scars are universal. And scar tissue that interferes with structure
and function and adversely impacts quality of life can be safely addressed by
a professional, properly trained massage therapist.
Our aim is to provide other therapists with an evidence-informed guide that
will assist with the development of their clinical expertise, enabling them to
work safely and confidently with patients recovering from trauma of any kind
whether accidental or surgical.
We hope you put this book to good use.

Nancy Keeney Smith LMT, MLD

Gainsville, Florida, USA
and
Catherine Ryan RMT
Telkwa, British Columbia, Canada
July 2015
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A thank you to the extraordinary family I have – my husband, Forrest,

daughter Daren and son Michael. Thank you for the eye rolling, the
encouraging words and allowing me the space to always try something new.
To Cathy Ryan – thanks, chica, for not letting on that I am a clinician and not
a writer. You, my friend, are exceptional at both.
Pam Fitch – see above.
To Diana Thompson for suggesting a presentation in Boston; to the
wonderful and dedicated North Florida Children’s Burn Camp volunteers at
Camp Amigo for giving a massage therapist a chance to prove massage
therapy does make a difference; to Rose Dean for her pursuit of making sure
everyone she came in contact with knew that massage therapy changed her
scars and quality of life; to Diane Garrison, Dana Ruben, Dr Annie Morien
and Raquel Torres – many great memories from Camp in holding my hand
through research; heart felt thanks to Julie Speigel for her encouragement and
compassion; hugs and much appreciation to Paul Davenport, Director and
mentor from the best darn school in the world, The Florida School of
Massage.
Much admiration to the entire staff at Handspring Publishing for the
handholding, encouragement and guidance.
Thanks so much to all my wonderful clients that allowed me to ‘explore’
their treatment protocols and to the case managers and physicians that
recognized massage therapy can be cost effective and beneficial to those with
traumatic scarring.
We’ve only just begun …
 NKS
My amazing partner and family, thank you for your love, support and
encouragement and all of the ways you enrich my life and nourish my soul.
Aleila, thank you for being the consummate role model of integrity,
graciousness and working for the greater good – you inspire me daily.
Nancy Keeney Smith, thank you for boldly stepping into the world of
massage therapy (MT) research and for having the courage to challenge the
status quo. I am humbled by your knowledge, passion, compassion and
dedication and all you do for those who grace your treatment table. You rock
sister-friend.
Thank you to the lovely Mary Law who, serendipitously, brought Nancy and
I together to collaborate on this book. And thank you to all the fine people at
Handspring for their interest in and devotion to publishing bodywork,
movement and manual therapy materials for the professional. Lynn Watt (our
editor) – you are the bomb!
Over a lengthy career I have had the great privilege of being in the company
of, and to learn from, outstanding educators, colleagues and students. A few
that I acknowledge here have not only impacted me in significant ways but
have also contributed, immeasurably, to progressing the profession: Andrew
Lewarne, Annette Ruitenbeek, Donelda Gowan-Moody, Pamela Fitch and
Rick Overeem – thank you all. Doug Alexander, thank you for your
mentoring and for providing me with a garden to cultivate my writing. Susan
Brimner, thank you for being the best MT teacher a fledgling could have ever
hoped for and for introducing me to the world of scar tissue massage.
Thank you to all who support, promote and engage in MT research. I, like
many, continually evolve and elevate my quality of care because of your
efforts. RMTBC, I so appreciate your research efforts and research library.
Thank you to the Canadian Massage Therapy regulatory colleges for all you
do to establish and ensure high professional standards and registrant delivery
of safe, effective and ethical care.
To all who have graced my treatment table: it has been a privilege to facilitate
care on your behalf. You have taught me and touched me in deeply
meaningful ways.
Lastly, thank you, the reader; the true value of this book will be revealed
through your hands … off the page and on to the table.

CR
 GLOSSARY AND KEY CONCEPTS
All the words defined in this Glossary are highlighted in color the first time
they appear in the text

Active listening (aka paraphrasing)

The therapist’s ability to recount the client’s expressed thoughts and feelings
in order to clarify the client-identified treatment goals and therapeutic needs.
Acute pain
Pain provoked by noxious stimuli in conjunction with injury and/or disease.
Acute stress disorder (ASD)
Characterized by the development of severe anxiety, dissociative, and other
symptoms that occur within 1 month after exposure to an extreme traumatic
stressor such as an injury, unplanned or planned (surgery).
Adhesions
Scar-like tissue that forms between articulating surfaces (e.g. muscle and
adjacent muscle, epimysium and deep fascia of the limbs, viscera and
adjacent structures).
Adipocytes (fat cells)
Play a role in heat preservation, storage, and provide fascia with protection
from physical trauma. Abundant in superficial fascia, adipocytes also serve as
a spacer. In some regions a layer of fascia is often separated from adjacent
ones by a thin layer of adipocytes.
Allodynia
Pain due to a stimulus that does not normally provoke pain – a consequence
of hyperexcitation.
Alphabet techniques
Cs, Js, and Ss – combinations of bending and torsion/rotation loading used to
address superficial and deeper layers of tissue.
Alpha-smooth muscle actin
Contractile protein present in myofibroblasts (MFBs).
Altered body image
Changes in the way a person perceives his/her body, as is seen with
disfiguring scars.
Alternating pump and stationary circles technique
A lymphatic technique commonly applied to the side of the thorax and
extremites to facilitate lymph flow.
Angiogenesis
Growth of new blood vessels, including capillary beds – as seen during
wound healing.
Anxiety
A state of unease, apprehension or dread.
Aponeuroses
Dense, sheet-like fascial expansions often serving as a means for muscle
attachments, connecting/linking fascia; stabilizing/supporting, force
transference and energy facilitation role.
Apoptosis
Cell death.
Autonomic balance
Homeostatic and complementary functioning of the sympathetic and
parasympathetic nervous systems.
Autonomic discharge
Term used to describe sympathetic nervous system-mediated autonomic
phenomena, such as fasciculation, tremor, shaking, tears, eye fluttering, skin
colour changes, sweating, clamminess, and emotional responses such as:
laughing, crying, expression of anger, irritation or aggression that can be
triggered during panic and anxiety attacks, when under stress and sometimes
during massage therapy treatments especially when a somatic memory
occurs. Autonomic discharge can occur as a local or multisystem event.
Autonomic nervous system (ANS)
Mediates involuntary function of viscera, glands, smooth muscle, cardiac
muscle and other structures. The ANS is subdivided into the parasympathetic
(PSNS) and sympathetic nervous (SNS) systems.
Axillary web syndrome (AWS)
Also known as cording, is characterized by painful cording or strings of
hardened lymph tissue in the axilla and can extend down the arm or into the
chest wall. AWS is thought to be fibrosis of the fascial sheath surrounding
lymph vessels and is likely triggered by axillary node dissection and
subsequent disruption of lymphatic flow or physical insult of the tissue
during the surgical procedure.
Barrier
Is defined as the point where the therapist perceives the first slight resistance
to their manually applied tissue challenge. Engaging barrier is commonly
used as both an assessment/evaluation and treatment method and barrier can
be classified as either normal or pathological.
Bending technique
A therapeutic loading technique involving combined compression and
tension loading. One side of the tissue is compressed as the other side is
elongated, often performed cross fiber – intended to influence tissue length,
tissue glide and fluid movement and mechanical cleavage/disengagement of
undue cross-links.
Best research evidence
The best available clinical, client-centered research pertaining to accuracy,
safety and efficiency of diagnostic/assessment procedures, prognostic
markers and therapeutic interventions.
Bind
When assessing barrier, once barrier is reached or surpassed, tissues shift
from a state of relative ease when challenged by therapist-applied
motion/glide to a state of bind – essentially a stop-point or end-range of tissue
mobility. Skin and fascia display increased bulk, firmness and tension when
bind is reached.
Biotensegrity/tensegrity
Terms used to describe a bioarchitecture where structural integrity is
maintained by continuous balance of tension and compression resistant
forces. Biotensegrity supports the concept of anatomical and perceptive
continuity vs segregated and functionally-isolated parts.
Body Awareness
Conscious, attentional focus on internal sensations, including consideration
of the physical, physiological, psychological and existential aspects of self.
Such perceptions are subjective and phenomenological aspects of proprio-
and interoception and are considered modifiable by mental processes
including attention, interpretation, appraisal, beliefs, memories, conditioning,
attitudes and affect. Enhancing body awareness is considered a key
mechanism of action in various therapeutic approaches such as yoga, body-
oriented psychotherapy, various movement modalities and MT. Increased
body awareness can assist with management of certain physiological and
psychological symptoms (e.g. anxiety, tension and habitual stress-response
patterns) associated with chronic pain, stress disorders and trauma.
Body Literacy
The ability to identify and articulate sensory experiences.
Bradykinin
Inflammatory mediator – a potent vasodilator, increases vascular
permeability, stimulates pain receptors and causes contraction of
extravascular smooth muscles (e.g. myofibroblasts).
Breast-conserving therapy (BCT)
Surgical removal of the least possible amount of breast tissue when removing
a malignant tumor, and usually includes additional therapy after surgery (e.g.
radiation).
Burnout
The physical and emotional exhaustion that an individual can experience
when they have low job satisfaction or feel overwhelmed by their work or
workload.
Calcitonin gene-related peptide (CGRP)
Neuropeptide, widely distributed throughout the central and peripheral
nervous systems. CGRP, a potent vasodilator and sensitizing agent, plays a
significant role in wound healing processes (e.g. angiogenesis and wound
closure) and is implicated in chronic pain and migraine headaches.
Capsular contracture
Envelopment of an implanted device (e.g. silicone or saline breast implants,
artificial joint, pacemaker) in a fibrous collagen capsule. The fibrous capsule
can incapacitate the device by compressing/squeezing, distorting or causing
the device to migrate or capsular contracture (fibrosis) can result in functional
impairments and pain.
Central nervous system (CNS)
Comprises the brain, spinal cord, meninges (connective tissue membranes),
cerebral spinal fluid (CSF) and cells, which collectively monitor and regulate
biological activity.
Central sensitization
Increased responsiveness of nociceptive neurons in the CNS, typified by
allodynia and hyperalgesia. Another hypothesis suggests heightened
sensation may be due to neuroplastic changes resulting in the facilitated
processing of pain messaging.
Chemokines
Small molecules released by cells at the site of injury or infection which bind
to receptors on the surface of target cells, giving rise to intracellular signals
that stimulate chemotaxis.
Chemotaxis
Migration of inflammatory and reparative cells to the wound site.
Chronic/persistent pain
Pain that persists for more than 6 months, often years, and may or may not be
linked to a previous injury or body damage. Chronic pain is associated with
significant functional, structural and chemical changes in the brain – termed
sensitization, super or hypersensitization.
Chronic (pathophysiological) stress response
Occurs when stress stimulus exceeds our natural regulatory capacity and
ability to return to homeostasis, characterized by the prolonged and/or
elevated presence of stress hormones. The physical and psychological
ramifications of chronic stress presents a host of clinical problems and the
chronic propagation of stress response mechanisms have deleterious long-
range effects.
Cicatrix
Another term for scar – the fibrous replacement tissue that is laid down
following injury or disease.
Client-centered care
Therapeutic interaction that extends beyond the delivery of services to
include client advocacy, empowerment and involvement in decision-making.
Client-centered care is respectful of and responsive to individual patient
preferences, needs, and values, and ensures that patient values guide all
clinical decisions.
Clinical decision-making
Therapist ability to synthesize and analyze information in order to formulate
and progress therapeutic interventions.
Collagen
Fibrous protein found in connective tissue, dermis, and fascia which provides
tensile strength, guards against over extension and can store and release
energy. Collagen’s elastic-stiffening potential (viscoelastic property) is
considered to be one of its defining features. Type I collagen is the fiber type
typically laid down during tissue remodeling. Under normal, healthy
circumstances collagen turnover (reconstruction phase of healing) lasts from
300 to 500 days, meaning it takes that length of time for collagen to fully
mature – an important consideration in post-trauma recovery and
rehabilitation.
Collagen crimp
The wavy formation seen in healthy/youthful collagen – this feature supports
collagen’s force transmission and energy facilitation roles. Aging,
immobilization, lack of movement and injury can have a negative impact on
collagen crimp.
Collagen cross-link
A chemical bond between adjacent collagen fibers. Physiological linkage
augments mechanical stability. Excessive collagen cross-links can interfere
with slide potential and contribute to mobility restrictions. Conversely,
insufficient or unstable bonds can diminish tissue integrity and stability.
Collagenase
Enzymes that break down collagen peptide bonds (degrade/digest).
Compassion fatigue
The profound emotional and physical exhaustion that helping professionals
and caregivers can develop over the course of their career.
Compensatory changes
Alterations in biomechanics associated with pain (antalgic shifts) or as a
result of scar tissue.
Compression technique
A therapeutic loading technique involving downward-perpendicular pressure
and approximation of two structures in the form of squeezing, grasping to
increase pressure – intended outcomes include influencing fluid movement
and endorphin release and mechanical cleavage/disengagement of undue
cross-links.
Compression fascia
Forms a pressurized compartment to augment vascular function and enhances
proprioception, muscular efficiency and coordination.
Connective tissue (CT)
The bodywide system that plays a well-identified role in integrating the
functions of diverse cell types within each tissue in which it invests. CT
presentation is variable, ranging from firm and dense to delicate and loose.
Consolidated edema
Chronic stage edema, where inflammatory exudate has transitioned to dense
fibrous CT.
Contracture
Fibrosis of tissue resulting in unrelenting or permanent shortening of fascia,
muscle, joint related tissues and skin.
Cortisol
Hormone released in response to stress and low blood sugar. Prolonged
elevated levels of cortisol have been linked to blood sugar alterations,
immune suppression, gastrointestinal issues, cardiovascular disease,
insomnia, fatigue, depression and thyroid disorders.
Countertransference
The inability of the professional to separate the therapeutic relationship from
personal feelings and expectations for the client, resulting in the
professional’s personalization of the therapeutic relationship.
Creep
A time-dependent response of viscoelastic tissues such as CT and fascia. Not
an immediate or instant reaction to strain or force but a slow reaction that
may result in the tissue not returning to its original state (length). For
example, postural distortions and prolonged edema can keep tissues in a state
of ‘over-stretch’ ultimately resulting in creep and diminished tissue integrity
– also see hysteresis.
Cytokines
Cell-secreted proteins, peptides or glycoproteins that affect cell behavior, for
example during wound healing, fibroblast proliferation, the expression of
growth factors by macrophages and the migration of neutrophils to the wound
site. Cytokines (e.g. tumor necrosis factor alpha (TNF-α) and interleukin-1
(IL-1) are released, mainly by polymorphonuclear leukocytes and
macrophages, during episodes of inflammation and are crucial to the normal
healing process.
Debridement
Removal of foreign material and dead or damaged tissue, especially in a
wound.
Deep fascia (DF; aka fascia profunda)
Generally speaking, throughout the body DF presents as a multilayer
organization – typically 2–3 dense collagen bundle layers interspersed with
loose CT layers. The dense layers serve to augment force transmission and
the loose layers augment slide/glide.
Deformation
Change in tissue shape in response to pressure or mechanical strain.
Degloving injury
A form of avulsion injury in which an extensive portion of skin and
subcutaneous tissue detaches from the underlying fascia, and muscles or
deeper tissues are avulsed from underlying bone or other structures. Injury
classification ranges from limited avulsion with minimal tissue loss to
circumferential multi-plane involvement of muscle groups and periosteum.
Densification
Term used in fascial manipulation (the Stecco method), used to describe the
increased viscosity of ground substance in the loose connective tissue (CT)
layers (sliding layers) due to aggregation of fragmented and entangled
hyaluronic acid chains. Stecco suggests that such densification at specific
points impacts CT and fascia’s hydrodynamic and normal viscoelastic
properties and subsequent increased viscosity negatively impacts sliding
between adjacent tissues/structures, resulting in myofascial pain and altered
proprioception.
Dermatome
Areas of skin supplied by a single nerve root.
Dermis
The CT layer of skin just beneath the epidermis which houses lymph and
blood vessels, nerve endings, sweat glands, sebaceous glands and hair
follicles.
Direct release technique
Commonly used in reference to myofascial techniques, where mechanical
force is applied into the restriction barrier.
Dissociation
An abnormal sense of psychological, emotional, or physical detachment,
experienced as a sense of unusual separation from the body
(depersonalization) and/or unusual separation from the surrounding physical
environment (derealization) – generally considered a psychological defense
mechanism used as a means to cope with overwhelming traumatic events.
Double-crush injury
Term used to denote when an axon, compressed in one region, becomes
susceptible to injury at another site (e.g. development of a cervical
radiculopathy in conjunction with carpal tunnel syndrome. Mechanisms
similar to those associated with sensitization are implicated.
Dry needling
A procedure involving insertion of an acupuncture needle into a myofascial
trigger point. Although an acupuncture needle is used, this is not the same as
acupuncture treatment of points along an identified meridian.
Edema (aka swelling)
Accumulation of fluid in cells, tissues or cavities as a result of vessel
permeability and pressure changes and lymphatic flow obstruction.
Physiological edema is considered part of the natural response of the body to
injury or insult.
Elastin
Protein fiber that when underhydrated is susceptible to fraying or breaking,
but when appropriately hydrated is highly flexible and extensible. Elastin
fibers can be stretched up to 150% their resting length without causing any
injury – 20 to 30 times more than collagen can withstand.
Empathy strain
A healthcare provider’s overextension of psychological resources,
contributing to burnout and, for some, even causing emotional pain.
Endomysium
Fascia surrounding and investing individual muscle fibers – the most delicate
or thin layer of the myofascial coverings.
Endoneurium
Fascia surrounding individual nerve fibers.
Endotenon
Fascia surrounding and investing individual tendon collagen fibrils/fibers and
primary, secondary and tertiary bundles.
Endothelial cells
Simple squamous cells that line the interior surface of blood and lymphatic
vessels.
Endothelium
Interior lining of blood and lymphatic vessels.
Endoscope
An instrument that is used to look inside the body (images can be viewed in
real-time or taped for repeat viewing).
Entrainment
Alteration of a biological rhythm in response to external stimuli; for example,
the client’s breath rhythm slowing to match the speed or rhythm of the
therapists applied technique strokes. In MT, entrainment is a commonly
employed and useful relaxation method.
Epidermis
The tough, outermost layer of the skin.
Epimysium
Outermost covering of fascia surrounding and investing an entire muscle –
typically the densest and strongest of the myofascial coverings.
Epineurium
Outermost covering of fascia surrounding an entire peripheral nerve
(including its blood and lymph vessels) – innervated by the nervi nervorum.
Injury, compression and inflammation of the epineurium may be a source of
neuropathic pain.
Epitenon
Outermost covering of fascia surrounding an entire tendon.
Epithelial cells
Cells that line the outer layer of the skin (epidermis), the surface of most
body cavities, and the lumen of fluid-filled organs.
Epithelium
The outer layer of skin and outer lining of most body cavities, and lumen of
fluid-filled organs, such as the stomach and intestines.
Evidence-based practice
Integrating best research with clinical expertise and client values to inform
and guide treatment protocol and delivery of care.
Extracellular matrix (ECM)
The sum total of extracellular substance, mainly ground substance and
protein fibers (goo and struts), within the extracellular space. Its form and
composition help determine tissue characteristics.
Fascia
Fibrocollagenous CT, its morphology shaped by tensional loading. Fascia
surrounds and interpenetrates all other soft-tissues, bones, nerves, circulatory
vessels and organs. In its various forms, fascia serves to connect, separate and
store/provide propulsion energy. Fascia is highly innervated and therefore is
considered to play a significant role in proprioception and interoception and
can be a potential pain generating tissue. By shifting its fluid dynamics (e.g.
changes in ground substance viscosity), fascia can alter its viscoelastic
properties, rendering fascia capable of instantly changing its properties in
response to demand (e.g. mechanical strain). This feature of fascia is
theorized to be the mechanism by which some of the tissue changes felt
during and after manual therapy occurs (e.g. softening, improved pliability
and mobility).
Fascicular fascia
Augments continuity and force transmission, provides proprioceptive
feedback and protection of nerve, blood vascular and lymph vessels.
Fibrin
Fibrous protein involved blood clotting. Polymerized fibrin together with
platelets forms a hemostatic plug or clot at wound sites.
Fibrinolysis
The break-down or dissolving of a hemostatic plug or clot. During wound
healing and repair, fibrin deposition and lysis must be balanced to maintain
temporarily and subsequently remove the hemostatic seal.
Fibroblasts
Synthesize the components of the ECM, secrete the precursors of the fibrous
proteins and play a significant role in soft-tissue remodeling. These highly
adaptable cells are noted for their ability to change shape and function (e.g.
differentiate into MFBs) in response to a variety of signals including
mechanical strain. This feature of fibroblasts provides a plausible explanation
for the mechanism by which myofascial/fascial techniques produce
therapeutic results.
Fibronectin
Glycoprotein found in plasma and tissue. Multifunctional fibronectins
interact with many extracellular substances, including collagen, and with
integrin receptors on cell surfaces, enabling fibronectin to play an important
role in the transmission of communication signals between cells and
components of the ECM.
Fibrosis
A process culminating in the replacement of the normal structural elements of
tissue with excessive, distorted and non-functional collagen (e.g. aberrant
fiber/bundle arrangement, density and reduced elastic-malleability). Fibrosis
is commonly seen with unchecked/chronic inflammation as a result of
cumulative trauma, soft-tissue over-use or repetitive strain/motion type
impairments. Fibrotic tissue within an injured area can hinder muscle
regeneration and lead to incomplete functional recovery (e.g. diminished
contractile capabilities, and reduced elasticity), increasing the risk of re-
injury.
Fluid dynamics
Neural-mediated mechanisms or neurobiological functions that impact the
volume and constituent ratio of fluid in the ECM. These mechanisms have
been identified as potential catalysts for tissue changes that occur as a result
of manual manipulation (e.g. fascia’s ability to change its fluid ratio and
subsequently its stiffness/softness).
Fluid techniques
Techniques employed to facilitate the flow of lymph and venous blood.
Force transmission
The transference of muscular force across an array of tissue. Collectively,
muscle fibers/bundles and the collagen-rich intramuscular CT (i.e. myofascial
coverings) are now appearing (as a unit) to be functionally significant with
regard to force transmission. A significant proportion of muscular force is
simultaneously transmitted multi-directionally (e.g. obliquely, laterally,
linearly) – on to adjacent fascia, synergists and antagonists.
Full-thickness skin grafts (FTSG)
Removal and transplantation of the entire thickness of the dermis.
Gentle circles technique
Circular motion loading technique used to target superficial tissues. This
technique is also commonly used as a form of client self-massage for scar
tissue.
Glycosaminoglycan (GAGs)
Are involved in a variety of biological processes. For example, during wound
healing and childhood growth phases, hyaluronic acid is known to stimulate
cytokine production by macrophages thereby promoting angiogenesis.
Hydrophilic GAGs found in collagen and elastin play a role in tissue
hydration, shock absorption and the reduction of friction during movement.
The hydrophilic nature of GAGs causes a swelling pressure, or turgor, which
enables the ECM to withstand compression forces. When healthy, the
meniscus of the knee joint can support profound amounts of pressure due to
its high GAG content.
Golgi receptors (GRs) and Golgi tendon organs (GTOs)
A type of mechanoreceptor found in dense fascia, joint related tissues and
near myotendinous junctions – responsive to contractile tension and active–
moderate, sustained stretch.
Granulation tissue
Soft pink fleshy projections that form during the wound healing process,
consisting of many capillaries (hypervascularity) surrounded by fibrous
collagen.
Ground substance (GS)
Amorphous gel-like medium of the ECM. GS is an important metabolic
interface that fills the space between fibers and cells. The hydrophilic nature
of GS constituents factors significantly into tissue viscoelasticity and slide
potential.
Gross stretch technique
Combination of tension and compression loading utilized to engage broader
areas of tissue. Gross stretch can be used when more intense, isolating or
deeper techniques are uncomfortable for the client to receive. Gross stretch
can also be used to pre-warm and soften tissue prior to applying more intense
type of techniques. This technique can be used to address either superficial or
deeper tissue layers.
Growth factors (GFs)
Diffusible signaling proteins that stimulate cell growth, differentiation,
survival, inflammation, and tissue repair. Examples include epidermal growth
factor (EGF), platelet derived growth factor (PDGF) and vascular endothelial
cell growth factor (VEGF).
Half-moon or circle technique
Lymphatic technique involving the circular stretching the skin and SF to
facilitate lymph flow.
Health psychology
The role of psychological factors in the development, prevention, and
treatment of illness and includes such areas as stress and coping, the
relationship between psychological factors and physical health, and ways of
promoting health-enhancing behaviors.
Homeostasis
State of physiological equilibrium.
Hyaluronic acid (HA; aka hyaluronan)
Extremely hydrophilic, highly viscous lubricant (reduces friction/drag), found
throughout skin, fascia, and neural tissue – a vital component of the sliding
mechanism. It is suggested that alterations in HA amount and organization
may play a role in tissue changes (e.g. tissue softening and improved
slide/glide) following manual manipulation.
Hydrophilic
Water-loving, the ability of a compound to attract/bind water molecules.
Hyperalgesia
Heightened pain sensation from a stimulus that normally provokes pain, a
consequence of hyperexcitation involving peripheral or central sensitization
or both.
Hyperarousal
Term generally used to describe when the ANS is in a state of hypervigilance
or hyperactivation.
Hyperexcitation
Neurons firing too easily or too often, which in turn can make something
perceived as painful feel even worse (hyperalgesia), or it can make things
hurt that should not (allodynia). Injury-induced hyperexcitability is not
limited to nociceptors. Hyperexcitability can also develop in myelinated
afferents that normally convey innocuous information (e.g. normal movement
and touch) and under neuropathic conditions, mechanical allodynia can
occur.
Hyperinnervation
Exaggerated, new, nerve growth seen in early wound healing. With normal
wound healing, nerve density will normalize with scar maturation. Although
densities may return to normal, normal responsiveness is not always re-
established, as nerve end organs cannot regenerate and therefore sensory
deficit or aberrancies may occur.
Hypertrophic scar
A thickened, red and raised scar that remains within the boundaries of the
original incision or wound.
Hypervascularization
Exaggerated, new, capillary growth seen in early wound healing.
Hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal (HPA) axis
A primary component in the stress response system, consisting of the
hypothalamus, anterior pituitary, cortex, and the cortex of the suprarenal
gland. The HPA axis regulates stress-related processes, including secretion of
stress hormones (e.g. cortisol) and under normal circumstances orchestrates
the eventual return to homeostasis.
Hysteresis
A property of systems (tissues) that do not immediately respond/react to
forces applied to them, but react slowly or do not return to their original state
– also see creep.
Impairment
Abnormality of body structures or loss of function that occur as a result of a
medical condition or trauma, such as adherences, contractures, fibrosis,
postural and movement adaptations, edema, pain, anxiety, SNS-hyperarousal,
disturbed sleep and altered or impaired body awareness.
Indirect release technique
Mechanical force is applied away from the restriction barrier or client is
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 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN