The Natural Speaker 9th Edition

The Natural Speaker 9th Edition
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The Natural Speaker
The Natural Speaker is a friendly step-by-step guide to public speaking that explores the
fundamental skills necessary to present a natural and rewarding speech to any audience.
By providing an overview of speech construction, practice, and delivery, this book is
designed to enhance and improve upon students' natural strengths. Featuring a warm
and humorous writing style, The Natural Speaker illustrates the concepts and skills
required for enjoyable public speaking, and Randy Fujishin invites readers to view
speaking as a lifelong journey. This ninth edition has been updated throughout to reflect
the integration of online media in public speaking today- with sections on digital visual
aids, digital note taking, and speaking on YouTube- and now features guidance on
speaking to multicultural audiences.
Randy Fujishin is a communication consultant and conference speaker for high

technology companies, government agencies, and Christian organizations. His clien ts
include Apple, Intel Corporation, Cisco Systems, the University of Phoenix, and Mount
Hermon Christian Conference Center.
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Other Books lly the Author
Natural Bridges
The ArtofCommunication, 3rd
Gifts.fromtheHeart, 3rd
CreatingCommunication, 2nd
CreatingEffective Groups, 3rd
Discovering the Leader Within
Your Ministry o.fConversation
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The Natural Speaker
Ninth Edition
RANDY FUJISHIN
I~ ~~o~:~~n~~~up
NEW YORK AND LONDON
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Ninth edition published 20 18
by Routledge
7 11 Third Avenue, New York, NY 100 17
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint o.fthe Taylor & Francis Croup, an tiiforma busin.ess
© 20 18 Taylor & Francis
The right of Randy Fujishin to be ident ified as author of this work has been asserted by him in
accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reprnduced or utilised in any form or
by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any informat ion storage or retrieval system, without
permission in writ ing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be t rademarks or registered t rademarks, and
are used only for ident ification and explanat ion vvithout intent to infringe.
First edit ion published Pearson Education, Inc. 2009

Eighth edition published Routledge 20 16
Library o.fCongress Catalog1i1g-ti1-Pub/ication Data

Names: Fujishin, Randy, author.
Title: The natural speaker I Randy Fujishin.
Description: Ninth edit ion. I New York, NY: Routledge, 20 18. I
Includes index.
Identifiers: LCCN 201 7054450 I ISBN 97811 3870090 1 (hardcover) I
ISBN 978 11 38 7009 18 (softcover) I ISBN 978 13 152043 38 (ebk)
Subjects: LCSH: Public speaking.
Classification: LCC PN4 l 29. 15 .F85 2018 1DDC808.5 / l-dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/ 201 7054450
ISBN: 978-1-1 38-70090-1 (hbk)

ISBN: 9 78-1-1 38-7009 1-8 (pbk)
ISBN: 9 78-1-3 15-204 33-8 (ebk)
Typeset in Bembo
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
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Please visit the companion website at www.routledge.com/ cw/ fujishin
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For Vicky, my gift i n this lifetime

Inhalt
Preface
1 Communicating With Others: Your Most Important Skill
2 Giving Yourself Permission: Welcoming a New You
3 Organizing Your Speech: Keeping It Simple
4 Selecting Your Topic: Choosing Your Path
5 Gathering Your Material: What You Sow Is What You Reap
6 Listening to Others: Being Good to the Speaker
7 Delivering Your Speech: Being Yourself
8 Informing Your Audience: Teaching Others
9 Persuading Your Audience: Changing Others
10 Speaking for Your Lifetime: A Lifelong Journey
Index

Preface
The most important skill you will ever develop in this life is. your ability to connect deeply
with another human being. A hundred years from now, it won't matter what level of
education you achieved, the kind of car you drove, or the amount of money you earned.
What will matter is that you connected with the hearts of others, that you welcomed
others, that you served others, that you encouraged others, that you loved others.
Without this ability to connect with other human beings, your life will be unhappy and
empty. From the moment you are born, you are driven by an undeniable urge, a need to
connect with others deeply and meaningfully.
One of the most powerful ways to connect with others is through speech. Your ability
to effectively and passionately address a group of people not only enhances your
educational, professional, and personal lives, it can also enlarge, empower, and help those
who listen to you. Public speaking, the training you might be dreading most, could
surprisingly become a communication skill that you will really appreciate, use, and enjoy
in the years to come.
This book is offered so you can give a speech that will be a benefit and an
encouragement to others. It's a simple guide to improving and enhancing the natural
speaking strengths you already possess while providing a basic understanding of speech
research, organization, and delivery. In the process of learning and developing these
skills, you will be inviting the natural speaker within you to develop in ways that will
benefit others and yourself.
Chapters 1 and z explore the nature and principles of communication, your
communication attitude, and six interpersonal communication skills that are vital to
effective communication in your everyday life. You will also be encouraged to give
yourself permission to grow in all these areas. Chapter 3 will introduce you to the basic
components of speech organization.
Chapters 4 and 2 explain topic selection and speech content materials. In these
chapters, you receive a practical guide to constructing a speech from start to finish in an
effective and comprehensive way.
In Chapter 6, the role of listening in public speaking is presented. The topics of the
listening process, barriers to listening, bridges to listening, and benefits of listening will
be explored. Throughout this chapter, you will see that the effort you expend to improve
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your listening skills for public speaking will also bring abou t immediate improvement in
yo ur interpersonal and relational listening.
Chapter 7 highlights the physical components of speech delivery and practical methods
for delivery improvement. The emphasis of this chapter is on develo ping those speaking
strengths you already possess and adding new skills that will enhance your natural style.
Chapter 8 covers the principles of sharing information with your audience. Also
presented are simple suggestions for effective informativ.e speaking, language use, and
dealing with audience questions. Chapter 9 examines the fundamentals of persuasive
speaking. Aristotle's three persuasive appeals- ethos, logos, and pathos- are discussed,
and ways to incorporate each appeal into your speech are explained.
And Chapter 10 invites you to become a speaker for your lifetime. Impromptu speaking,
special occasion speaking, develo ping the heart of a speaker, and balancing technology
and communication are explained in a simple and encouraging way.
The purpose of this book is to give you the basic skills to present a speech that is
effective, natural, and beneficial for you and the audience. Your decision to develop your
natural speaking abilities is one that will reward you, both professionally and personally,
for the rest of your life.
New to This 9th Edition

• The role of public speaking in a democratic society (Ch . 1)
• New disc ussion and application of digital media in pULblic speaking (throughout
9th edition)
• New audience analysis survey form (Ch . 4)
• Onli ne speech content research beyond Google (Ch . 5)
• Research note-taking software tools (C h . 5)
• New presentational software programs (Ch. 5)
• Speaking note technology and tools (Ch . 5)
• Adapting your speeches to multicultural audiences (C h. 6)
• Dealing effectively with audience smartphone distractions (Ch . 7)
• Handling speaking-day challenges gracefully (Ch. 7)
• New speaker delivery practice activities (Ch . 7)
• Symmetrical and asymmetrical gesturing (Ch. 7)
• Balancing technology and face-to-face interactions (Ch . 10)
• Preparing effective YouTube presentations (Ch. 10)
• Several new chapter opening stories emphasizing technology
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l would like to thank m y senior editor, Laura Briskman, for her wisdom, guidance, and
cheerful optimism during every phase of the production of this 9th edition of The Natural
Speaker. Laura is a blessing to me. l would also like to thank Nicole Salazar, m y editorial
assistant, for her expert direction, encouragement, and joyful assistance.
Steve Richmond, m y good friend over the decades, deserves m y gratitude and affection.
l wo uld also like to express m y deepest thanks to m y mother, Helen Fujishin, for her
godliness and love, and m y loving sons, Tyler and Jared, and their wonderful wives,
Lauren and Aurora, for giving me the pleasure of a fun and loving family.
Finally, l wish to thank Vicky, m y bride of over 30 years, for her love, godly character,
and deep, joyous friendship. It is to Vicky that l dedicate this book. I love you, Vicky.
Randy Fujishin

ElCommunicating With Others
Your Most Important Skill
Learning Objectives
After reading this chapter, you shouldbe able to do the following:
1.1 Define communication

1.2 Define the components of communication
1.3 Explain the principles of communication
1.4 Explain the concept that attitude is more important than aptitude
1.5 List the communication skills for your life
1.6 Explain the role of public speaking in a democratic society
Never before had Paul sat for so long in total silence with another human being. Paul, a
young psychologist, was in a therapy session with his client, a middle-aged woman with
lifeless eyes, arms that hung limply at her sides, and a posture that displayed the shame
and anger that often accompany victims of physical ab use.
It was during Paul's first year of clinical training as a marriage, family, and child
therapist that he had worked with her. The woman came to therapy with a long history of
depression and withdrawal. As a novice therapist, Paul encouraged her to open up and
share her feelings. But during the first two sessions, all the woman did was sit in silence.
He asked the usual questions therapists are trained to ask, and she responded only with
silence. She simply stared out the window at the peaceful mountains in the distance as the
two of them sat in the small, cramped office.
During the course of therapy, she did make some pro,gress. After two months, she
responded in short se ntences to some of Paul's questions. She even smiled a time or two.
Yet, within four months, she quit coming to her sessions. Paul left messages on her
answering machine, inviting her back to therapy, but she did not respond. Paul never saw
the woman again.
To this day, Paul is haunted by something she said at the end of one of her final sessions.

After he asked her why she spent the vast majority of her t ime in therapy in silence, she
slowly admitted, "Most times, it's less painful to be silent th an to talk. I think it would be
much easier to live my entire life not having to communicate with anyone."
Can you imagine a life without communication? Immediately, your existence would
change in dramatic ways, leaving you with an entirely different life- an empty, hollow
life.
Once a human beti1g has arn"ved on this earth, communication is the largest single.factor in
detenmiung what happens to luin 1i1 the world.
- VIRGINIA SATIR
No longer could you talk with friends over coffee or laug·h with your fam ily at a picnic.
No longer could you whisper sweet nothi ngs to your spouse or discuss the latest movie
with a neighbor. No longer could you debate an issue at a business meeting or negotiate
the price of a used car. No longer could you apologize for a wrong or ask for forgiveness
from a wounded friend. In short, no longer would you be fully h uman. We need
communication as a bridge to others in this life.
Hell was once described not as a burning pit of endless agony, but as a cold, lonely,
isolated place where each person was sentenced to spend eternity alone on an island- no
bridges between the islands, no way to span the gulf between people, forever alone. A life
without communication would be hell.
1.1 What Is Communication?

Although there are numerous definitions for communication, the following definition is
very simple and has been around for a long time. Communication is the process of sending
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environment, to a receiver. The receiver responds with feedback to the sender; noise can
interfere with the fidelity or accuracy of the message. Communication can be both verbal
and nonverbal. Verba/communication consists of all language that is spoken and written,
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1.2 The Components of Communication

The communication process is made up of seven components. They are the sender,

message, environment, channel, receiver, feedback, and noise.
Sender
The sender is the originator of the message. In other models of communication, the
sender can also be called the source of the message. The process of communication begins
at this point with a speaker who wishes to communicate an idea or feeli ng. It's impor tant
to note that the sender doesn't simply send a message. She must first decide what she
wants to communicate and then encode the message. Encoding is the process of
converting the message into lang uage and terms that will be understood by the receiver.
Once the message is encoded, it is sent to the receiver.
Nachricht
The idea or feeling the sender wants to communicate is called the message. The message
can be any idea, thought, emotion, or feeling the sender wishes to communicate.
Wh ether it's a flirtatious wink across a crowded room or a college commencement
address, the message is still the thought or feeling the sender wants to communicate.
Environment
The environment includes the time, place, and occasion of the communication event. The
time at which communication occurs can influence the communication between people.
Talking to someone early in the morning or late at night can affect how we interact. The
physical surroundings also play an important role. Is the communication event inside or
outside? How does the lighting, temperature, arrangement of the furniture or chairs, size
of the room, and a host of other physical variables influence the manner in which we
communicate with others? The specific occasion for the event also determines to a large
extent how we communicate. What is the purpose of the occasion? Is the occasion formal
or informal ? How many people are involved? These environmental variables need to be
considered when we communicate.
Channel
The channelis the means by which a message is transmitted. Messages can be transmitted

through channels of hearing, sight, smell, taste, and touch. A sender can use a variety of
channels to communicate her message. For instance, if she wants to communicate
affection to someone special, she can choose to tell the person with words, h ug the
person, send cookies, write a letter, or offer perfume. In public speaking, the auditory and
visual channels are used most often. But it's important to keep in mind that the more
channels utilized by the sender, the more impact the message has on the receiver.
Receiver
The destination of the message is called the receiver. Without the receiver,
communication does not occur. In public speaking, the receiver of the message is the
audience. In the communication model, the receiver receives the message and then must
decode it. Decodingi.s the process of translating the message so that it has meaning for the
receiver. A wink of the eye from the sender can be decoded or interpreted in many ways.
It can be a nonverbal sign of flirting, a sign that there's dust in the eye, or even the first
symptom of an epileptic seizure. The decoding process is vital in communication.
Speech is civilization itsetf.
- THOMAS MAN!>f
Feed/Jack
The response of the receiver to the sender is called.fe edback. Although feedback is really a
message from the receiver to the sender, the term helps us. see the circular movement of
this communication model. It should be stressed that the receiver can send the return
message through all the same channel options as the sender when she encodes and sends
the response.
Noise
Noise is any disturbance or interference in the communication process. External noise is
any physical interference that diminishes or reduces the meaning of the message.
Examples of external noise include background talking, a jackhammer banging outside
the building, or even a distracting mannerism of the speaker. All of these and more can
interfere with the communication process. Psychological or semantic interference is
called internal noise. Internal noise can cause us to misinterpret or decode the message in

a way not intended. A word with multiple meanings is a common example of internal
noise. For instance, an audience may interpret the speaker's statement, "In japan,
students respect their teachers," in a variety of ways, depending on their individual
interpretations of the word respect.
1.3 The Principles of Communication

Now that yo u have an idea of what communication is and the elements that make up the
process, you are in a better position to examine some principles that govern
communication.
You Cannot Not Communicate
Even when you don't think you're communicating, y our nonverbal behavior is
constantly giving off important messages. Yo ur posture, your eye contact or lack of it,
and the manner in which yo u walk or even sleep send messages loaded with meaning to
the outside observer. Freud wisely observed, "He who has eyes to see and ears to hear may
convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his 1£ps are silent, he chatters with
his fingertips and betrayal oozes out of him at every pore." Yo ur body, your movements,
your use of time, the distance you stand from others, and even your clothes broadcast
constant and powerful messages to observers. You are always communicating.
Communication Is Irreversi/J/e
Many times we wish we could retract a critical word or erase an angry response that we
have made. Unfortunately, this is not possible. An apology for harsh words can be
sincerely accepted, but the memory of the event can live on for the remainder of a
person's life. Human memory is a funny thing. The leas.t of gestures, the smallest of
words can haunt us long after the event. It might be wise for us to remember the
recommendation "One seldom regrets unspoken words."
Communication Is a Process
Many years ago, Heraclitus observed, "You never step into the same river twice." The river

has changed- the water clarity is different, the temperature is different, the current is
different, the depth is different, and the width is different. The river may look the same,
but it's a different river. In fact, you too have changed- the very cells of your body are
different- since you last stepped into its waters.
This same principle holds true for communication. A smile might have worked while
requesting something from a friend last week. But this week, the same smile elicits mild
rejection. Why? Because you cannot repeat any event in exactly the same manner. Things
have changed. Both participants have changed in countless subtle and not-so-subtle
ways. It is impossible to replicate the hundreds of minute variables that influenced you
just a week ago. Everything has changed to some degree during the week.
Have you ever seen the same movie twice? It's amazing how many new things you see
the second time around that went unnoticed during your first viewing. Your emotional
response to the film may also change because of the personal changes and emotional
experiences you have had since you first saw the movie.
Communication is a process. Life is a process. The soldier who goes off to war returns a
different person. The old woman dying in the city hospital bed is not the same person who
ran along the country lane 70 years ago. That, however, is the beauty of life. As we get
older, we can explore, experiment, change, and grow so that on our deathbed, we will
have very few regrets.
Communication Is Learned
There are some nonverbal communication behaviors that seem to be universal, such as
smiling and crying. But the majority of verbal and nonverbal communication is learned.
The specific language that a child grows up with is learned early in childhood, as are the
nonverbal communication behaviors that are appropriate for a specific culture. For
instance, in US culture, we value and encourage direct eye contact, especially in the
public speaking arena. Yet a native of the Japanese culture would interpret the same
direct eye contact as a sign of rudeness and lack of respect, especially when the speaker is
addressing an individual of higher status.
Just as a fish is unaware of the water surrounding it, an individual might not be aware
that communication is learned because he too is surrounded by the language and culture
of his society. However, when a person learns a new language, visits a foreign country, or
acquaints himself with a person from a different culture, he begins to realize that his way
of talking and perceiving the world is but one of many. There are many realities out there,
and perhaps one important indicator of maturity is the realization that "our way" isn't
necessarily the only or best way.

The most important aspect of this principle is that ineffective ways of communicating
can be replaced by learning new, more effective methods. P'eople often think that because
they can talk, they can communicate effectively, too. This is far from the truth. Ernest
Hemingway once warned us "not to confuse motion for action." The same holds true for
talking and communicating. Communicating effectively in our interpersonal and
professional lives requires study and practice. Effective communication skills can be
learned, and they must be learned if we are to experience a life that is meaningful and
worth living.
Communication Needs to Be Cross-CulturallyAppredated

Perhaps the most significant lesson we can learn is that communication is often culture
specific. Granted, the principles of communication mentioned thus far apply to all
cultures. Individuals from all cultures learn to communicate. They cannot not
communicate. Their communication and their lives are in process. And once they
communicate a message, intentionally or unintentionally, the effect is irreversibly felt by
others.
But we must not make the mistake of thinking that what we value in terms of
communication competencies is desired by all people in every culture. This is not always
the case. For example, in this book, you will be encouraged to maintain direct eye contact
with your listeners, use expressive gestures, employ vocal variety, and share personal
illustrations in your speaking. For the purposes of addressing most American audiences,
these and other skills will serve a positive and desirab1e function. But if you were
addressing a group of Japanese businesspeople in Tokyo, these same behaviors might be
interpreted as overly forward, disrespectful, annoying, and. even rude. The Japanese often
view direct eye contact as an invasion of personal space. The use of exaggerated gestures
and vocal variety does not fit their more restrained and formal style of communication.
And personal disclosure would be inappropriate, if not suspect, in a large group of
strangers.
Every culture views beau{JI in different ways. You expand your world each nine you see
beau{JI through tire eyes ofothers.
- BARBARA OoWER
"Well," you sigh, "I just won't ever give a speech to a group of Japanese businesspeople
in Tokyo!" Maybe not, but the United States is a country that is home to hundreds of
different cultures. That's the beauty of our nation! If yo u really analyzed any audience in
America, you'd be surprised at the heterogeneous mix of the cultures and ethnic

backgrounds of your listeners.
The purpose of this public speaking book is not to provide you with a list of the
communication skills and behaviors valued by each of these different cultures. We'll
leave that book to someone else. But you are encouraged to become aware of, sensitive to,
and respectful of these differences. This is not to say you must shift your communication
style with each audience you address. That would be an impossible task. But you are being
challenged to examine the notion that your way is the only way.
You need to become more aware of the subtle, and not so subtle, differences between
cultures. Not only must you raise your level of awareness concerning these differences,
but you also need to be more sensitive to them, not only in your speaking, but also in your
daily interactions with others. And finally, you must respect these differences in your
speaking and listening with all people. The next section will help you meet this challenge.
1.4 Attitude Is More Important Than Aptitude

Before proceeding to the next chapter, it is important to mention the attitude of the
communicator, for the attitude of the speaker is the most important factor in effective
communication.
A person's attitude is far more important than his aptitude in communicating with
others. An individual can be highly trained and skilled in the communication arts but
may possess an angry or critical attitude. It is this negative attitude that is sensed below
the level of spoken language, and the receiver or audience ultimately will respond to it
rather than to the words.
The attitudes that distinguish truly effective communicators from less effective ones
are worth mentioning here. Effective communicators seem to possess an attitude of self-
acceptance. They accept who they are without having to prove a great deal to others. They
exhibit an attitude of other-centeredness, which enables t hem to empathize with, care
for, and respond to others. Rather than constantly being consumed with the need or
desire to control others or gain their approval, these self-accepting individuals can dance
to the beat of a different drummer with greater ease and grace. They don't spend a lot of
time looking over their shoulders or down their noses.
Flexibility is another attitude that characterizes these individuals, for they are more
likely to experiment with new behaviors, take risks, and. make mistakes. They appear
gentle in their dealings with others. And finally, these individuals possess a sense of
openness and authenticity that makes them comfortable to be around, demanding little
energy. We walk away from these individuals feeling enlarged rather than diminished.

The most telling attitude of effective communicators is their sense of joy- not just a
temporary happiness or a practiced, interpersonal warmth, but a joyfulness that seems to
come from deep within. Usually these individuals have lived a while, they have managed
to survive and accept some oflife's tragedies, and still, they have chosen to embrace the
beauty and mystery oflife.
You know when you've been in their presence, for they usually make yo u feel calm,
relaxed, and trusting. Just as certain animals can sense fear in some people and love in
others, you can feel the attitude of joyfulness in these individuals. At such times, words
really don't matter all that much.
Without these positive attitudes shaping and influencing the communication process,
most communication skills training is wasted. Ultimately, the heart is more important
than the head.
1.5 Communication Skills for Your Life

Before we actually begin learning about the concepts and skills of effective public
speaking, let's spend a few moments examining your personal communication life,
because how you communicate interpersonally lays the foundation for your attitude and
skills in public speaking. Effective public speaking must be a udience centered.
There have been individuals who were powerful, persuasive public speakers. They
could command the attention of hundreds of people with their words alone. Their
relationship with the audience was impressive, as the masses swayed in unison to their
every word.
But their relationship with the audience wasn't necessarily indicative of their
relationships with individuals in their personal lives. Some of these outstanding public
speakers had miserable personal lives, racked with pain, emptiness, and longing. Their
great speaking skills could impress hundreds in the audience but could do very li ttle to
bridge the gulf between themselves and those who should have mattered- family and
friends.
In this book, you will learn skills and concepts that will help you speak effectively to an
audience. But before you run out and book speaking engagements, we need to begin with
a brief discussion on a topic that is enormously important to yo ur life- your
interpersonal communication impact on others.
Every time you talk with someone, you either enlarge or diminish that person by your
interaction. Suppose that you and another person are enga.ged in casual conversation for
a few minutes and then you say goodbye. As you walk away from that individual, how are

you feeling? What kind of emotional impact did he have on you? Maybe he had a
diminishing impact, and you say to yourself, "Yuck! I'm glad to be away from that
negative, depressing guy. l was feeling all right before l talked with him." Perhaps he
didn't have any noticeable effect on you, and you're saying, "l wonder where l parked that
darn car of mine." Or, just maybe, his impact on you was enlarging, and you're
exclaiming,"! felt pretty down before l talked with him, and now l feel better. The world
doesn't look as depressing as it did just a few minutes ago."
Do others enlarge or diminish you? Don't count the neutral impact as a third category,
because neutral impact is similar to a negative impact. So clump those two together into
the "diminish" category. lfyou still want three categories, that's okay. The discussion will
work either way.
Remember that communication is a process, and your past history, your state of mind,
your physical condition, and a host of other factors come into play here. And yet
ultimately, you have an impact on others every time you interact. You either enlarge or
diminish another person by your interactions. With every word, sound, gesture,
expression, glance, movement, pause, and touch you share with another person, she is
changed in ways that are both subtle and striking.
There are six specific ways you can enlarge others by your interpersonal
communication with them: not taking communication so personally, listening without
verbal jn~e.rruption, listening reflectively, complimenting others, reframing, and
~~~ ·~.:oett-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~~'!-.C:.~!~~:
Not Tailing Communication So Personally
Most of us listen to what others say in terms of how it affects us personally. We ask
questions such as the following: ls that right or wrong (from my point of view)? How does
that affect me? What does the speaker think or feel about me? How do /feel about what
was shared? How do I respond? With all of these questions, did you notice where the focus
of attention was? It was on our response, our evaluation, our point of view- in short, we
take center stage; everything revolves around us. We take it all so personally.
That's not necessarily a bad thing. We need to evaluate the merits of a sales
presentation, we need to form an opinion of our new manager, and we need to check our
emotional response in a conflict situation. But to overemphasize a self-centered approach
to all communication is not healthy. We need to develop the ability to suspend judgment
when listening to another person. We need to develop the art of psychological and
emotional disengagement- to take our ego out of gear once in a while. When we always
take what is said personally, we get hooked into many unnecessary arguments, conflicts,

and struggles.
We can alter our lives simply by altering our attitudes ofmind.
- W ILLIAM )AMES
An effective technique that can help you to disengage your ego, and not take
everything that is said so personally, is to ask these questions when you're listening to
someone else:
What is this person's point of view>
What does this say about this person?
How is this person feeling>
Where is this person coming from>
How does this person see the situation>
Who is this person>
Did you notice the different focus of attention? No longer do we take center stage. The
speaker is the focus of attention- her point of view, her feelings, her frame of reference,
her character and personality. We're not taking in all that is said in terms of how it affects
us. We are broadening our perspective to include the one who is talking. We have
concentrated on the speaker, and, conseq uently, we have also distanced ourselves from
her. We are not taking her communication so personally.
The ability not to take communication personally is the first step in effective
communication- to be able to hear what the other person is saying without a screen of
self-centered questions filtering and clouding what is being said. Without this ability,
communication with others will be superficial and often defensive. Without this ability,
we will be hearing only the echoes of our own mind, instead of the thoughts and feelings
of the other person .
Listening Without Ver/Jal Interruption
Now that we can accept what is being said from an other-centered point of view, we can
begin to listen without verbal interruption- the ability to be silent for a period of time
when someone else is speaking.
Did yo u know that when we are talking with another person, we verbally interrupt the
other person every 12 seconds? Every 12 seconds! "That's wonderful!" "That's terrible!"
"I'm sure!" "I'm all.. ." "That reminds me of a time when I..." "If I were you, I would ..."
"No, that's not true, because..." "Well, it was even worse for me, because L. ." And the
interruptions go on and on. Every 12 seconds. Back and forth. On and on we interrupt.

And we wonder why we don't feel like we've been really listened to, really taken
seriously, really understood at a deep level. Because of the constant interruptions and
judgments, advice and direction, we realize there is no safe harbor to simply say what's on
our minds and in our hearts without being interrupted from all sides every 12 seconds.
Maybe that explains why we pay certain people $100to $150 an hour to just sit quietly and
listen to us in therapy.
One of the most enlarging behaviors we can share with another person is to listen
without verbal evaluation- without interrupting every 12 seconds! What an oasis that
would be. Perhaps the most loving thing we can do for another human being is to listen
quietly, deeply, without interruption.
The next time your spouse, your child, or a neighbor begins talking with you, ask
yourself the question, "Should l give this person 12 seconds before l interrupt, or should l
allow 120 seconds?" If you wear a watch with a sweep second hand, time yourself, as long
as you can do so without being too obvious. See what happens if you remain silent for two
entire minutes! Many times, the other person won't even notice your silence and will
continue talking. Other times, he might ask, "ls something wrong?" or "Are you all
right?" Such questions could be indicators that the other person is accustomed to your
interruptions. Don't feel bad. Just respond by saying, "Everything is fine. I just think what
you're saying is important, and l didn't want to interrupt you."
ListeningReflectively
In addition to not taking communication too personally and listening without verbal
interruption, another enlarging communication behavior is to listen reflectively. To
listen reflectively means to mirror back to the speaker what he is saying.
ft is better to ask some oftile questions than to know all tile answers.
- JAMES THURBER
When you are listening to someone, think in terms of "What is this person trying to
communicate to me?" "What is this person saying?" "What is this person feeling?" As you
begin to get a sense of exactly what this person is attempting to communicate to you,
check it out- reflect or mirror back to the speaker. The simplest way to accomplish this is
to begin your questions with one of the following:
"Are you saying..."
"l hear you saying..."
"You think..."
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"You believe..."
"Are you feeling..."
"Your point is ..."
"Do you m ean..."
These are simple beginnings to your questions, but they will change the entire focus of
your communication. Once again, where is the attention directed? You? Or the other
person? Right, the other person!
There may be a change in the relationship with this person if yo u use reflective
listening with any frequency. With practice, this reflective way oflistening will begin to
feel natural, and you will notice that your communication patterns shift from a self-
centered posture to a more other-centered focus.
There are numerous advantages of this reflective listening technique. First, it shifts the
focus from you to the speaker, and it encourages you to not take communication too
personally. Ideally, it will also force yo u to listen withou t verbal judgment. Second,
reflective listening will prove to the speaker that you care about what he is saying. This,
in and of itself, is enlarging. Third, it improves the acc uracy of communication. If yo ur
reflected statement is inaccurate, the speaker can clarify, explain, or ill ustrate in detail.
Fourth, this type of listening takes the burden off yo u. No longer do you have to judge,
give advice, or solve problems. You are simply acting as a mirror, reflecting the other
person's image back to him. Fifth, you provide the speaker with a safe harbor where he
can talk and be heard. It beats paying $100 to $150 an hour just to be heard accurately. In
Chapter 7, we will examine specific ways you can listen to a speaker more effectively.
Complimenting Others
Mark Twain once admitted, "! can live two months on one compliment." A sincere
compliment not only feels good, but it also can give new life to the person receiving it. We
all know the feeling of satisfaction, joy, and even inspiration when a sincere compliment
comes our way. We love to receive them, yet we are usually guilty of not giving them as
often as we could.
The fourth communication skill for your life is that of compli menting others- sharing
sincere praise. The first step in developing this skill is to decide to be a source of
compliments. Begin to look for the best in others. Sure, all individuals have their
weaknesses, faults, and areas for improvement. But shift your focus of attention and
instead see their strengths of character, achievement, and effort.
Compliment Cltaracter. The first type of compliment is to acknowledge the in ternal
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attractiveness of the person rather than look at his physical appearance. Complimenting
character traits is better than complimenting physical traits because character traits do
not diminish with age. Such things as kindness, generosity, optimism, gentleness, humor,
trustworthiness, empathy, loyalty, and candor are just a few of the hundreds of character
or personality traits you can appreciate and praise. Here are a few character compliments:
"!really appreciate your thoughtfulness."
"Your trustworthiness makes me feel secure."
'1 like your sense of humor."
Compliment Achievement. A second form of complimenting is to compliment

achievement. To do this, you simply acknowledge something that a person has
accomplished or realized. The achievement can be as modest as remembering a telephone
number or as monumental as overcoming some physical disability. Here are some
examples of complimenting achievement:
"Your speech was inspirational."
"Congratulations on finishing your decorating project!"
'Tm happy you were elected to the city board."
"Great job!"
Compliment Effort. You can compliment a person on her effort to achieve some task or
goal, even if the person was unsuccessful in attaining it. In US culture, we tend to
compliment only the winners- those people who finish first and win the trophies. But
you can compliment people for the effort they invest in a task or project. What's
important is that they tried. It's not the destination but the journey that matters. Here are
some examples of complimenting effort:
'Tm really impressed with the effort you put into this project."
"!love your determination!"
"You ran a clean and honest race during this election."
Compliment tile Invisible. The final form of complimenting is a bit unusual. It involves
complimenting people on the things they don't do- complimenting the invisible. There
are countless things people don't do that are worthy of appreciation, yet we rarely think
about those things. Maybe the person doesn't swear, chain-smoke, or interrupt
constantly, so tell him that you appreciate it.
Once you begin to compliment the invisible, it can be fun and even entertaining. Here
are some examples of complimenting the invisible:
'1 appreciate the fact that you don't swear."
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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

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Randy Fujishin is a communication consultant and conference speaker for high

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The ArtofCommunication, 3rd

CreatingEffective Groups, 3rd

Discovering the Leader Within

Your Ministry o.fConversation

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Routledge is an imprint o.fthe Taylor & Francis Croup, an tiiforma busin.ess

© 20 18 Taylor & Francis

First edit ion published Pearson Education, Inc. 2009

Library o.fCongress Catalog1i1g-ti1-Pub/ication Data

ISBN: 978-1-1 38-70090-1 (hbk)

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1 Communicating With Others: Your Most Important Skill

2 Giving Yourself Permission: Welcoming a New You

3 Organizing Your Speech: Keeping It Simple

4 Selecting Your Topic: Choosing Your Path

5 Gathering Your Material: What You Sow Is What You Reap

6 Listening to Others: Being Good to the Speaker

7 Delivering Your Speech: Being Yourself

8 Informing Your Audience: Teaching Others

9 Persuading Your Audience: Changing Others

10 Speaking for Your Lifetime: A Lifelong Journey

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New to This 9th Edition

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1.1 Define communication

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1.1 What Is Communication?

~-~~!-~~~!~~1:1~~~~-S-~(:l.!:~·. The sender sends a message through a channel, within a specific

1.2 The Components of Communication

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1.3 The Principles of Communication

You Cannot Not Communicate

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Communication Needs to Be Cross-CulturallyAppredated

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1.4 Attitude Is More Important Than Aptitude

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1.5 Communication Skills for Your Life

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Not Tailing Communication So Personally

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Listening Without Ver/Jal Interruption

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Compliment Cltaracter. The first type of compliment is to acknowledge the in ternal

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Compliment Achievement. A second form of complimenting is to compliment

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

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

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

~-!-~!1:1~~-S-~(:l.!:~·. The sender sends a message through a channel, within a specific