MALAY SCHOOL BOYS LKATIN1NO Tu HEAD THE KOBAN. 
ON THE MALAYS OF CAPE TOWN. 
A considerable proportion of tlie population of Cape Town and the surrounding towns and villages is composed of 
Malays, or people of Malay extraction, who, although naturalised in the colony as British subjects, still adhere to the 
customs, costume, and Mahommedan faith of the countries from which they originally emanated. During the Dutch 
government of the Cape of Good Hope, a great number of Malays were brought over from Batavia, and other settlements 
of the Dutch East India Company, as slaves, from which the present Malay population is descended. Up to the period 
of the emancipation of the slaves throughout the British Colonies, a few years back, the greater portion of the Malays in 
Cape Town were in a state of bondage; now many of them are in easy, and a few in affluent, circumstances, whilst the 
mass constitute the artisans and labouring classes of the place. Most of the carpenters, masons, tailors, shoemakers, &c. 
are Malays; they also make excellent grooms and house-servants, from their sobriety and cleanliness. Almost all the 
fishermen and boatmen of Table Bay are likewise Malay; and the number of them one sees in the streets on landing, with 
their gay costumes, broad conical hats, and their heads tied round with handkerchiefs of the most brilliant colours, imparts 
a cheerful and foreign air to the scene, sparkling beneath a bright African sun. 
As all the Malays are strict Mahommedans, they observe the feasts and fasts, the Ramazan, the Bairarn, the Kaiipha, 
and other ceremonies belonging to their Eastern faith, under the guidance of priests of their own religion. These priests 
differ upon sundry minor matters, and several sects have sprung up amongst them, each led by a rival priest, though I 
imagine the spirit of bigotry is not carried to such an extent by them as it unfortunately is amongst the Christians. 
The Malay burial-grounds are remarkably picturesque, planted with flowers, and bearing tokens of respect and affection 
for the departed. I like to see the care with which the Malays tend the graves of their dead : the snow-white turreted 
tombs, the rosemary and geraniums, and the monthly roses they plant round them, and the lily bulbs in the spring. 
On a bright summer’s evening, the Malay burial-ground, on the brow of the hill overlooking the town, is often crowded 
with the living, who have come to pay visits to the resting-places of their friends. Some are trimming the flowers; 
the young girls anointing the tombstones with frankincense and myrrh, or placing nosegays upon the graves; and all this 
as though the silent tenants were only asleep, and would wake again by and bye, so gently, and yet with a calm cheer¬ 
fulness, do they perform these beautiful and holy rites. 
I will endeavour to describe the funeral of a young girl I witnessed there one Saturday evening. The sun was just 
setting, the ground planted with flowers that made the air fragrant, and palm and rosemary grew at the head of the 
graves. Little upright slabs marked every tomb, and rows of white pebbles were placed along the earth. Beside each 
headstone was a small chamber, with a little door, for holding lights ; for at the Ramazan these burial-grounds are illuminated 
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