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Preface vii
growth. In this book, we describe six factors. The first is the therapeutic relationship,
which is covered in Chapter 3. It is so important that we decided to address this early in
the book. The remaining therapeutic factors include enhancing efficacy and self-esteem
(Chapter 13); practicing new behaviors (Chapter 13), lowering and raising emotional
arousal (Chapter 14); activating expectations, motivation, and hope (Chapter 14); and
new learning experiences (Chapter 14). Under each of these therapeutic factors, you will
learn more advanced change techniques such as role-playing, relaxation, and reframing.
Although these techniques are more complex, once you have established the founda-
tion with the basic building blocks, you will be ready to construct these more elaborate
methods.
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develop and practice skills critical to their success as professional helpers. Hints and
feedback provide scaffolding and reinforce key concepts.
• Assignments & Activities assess students’ understanding of key concepts and skill
development. Suggested responses are available to instructors, making grading easy.
• Multiple-Choice Quizzes help students gauge their understanding of important
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In my own journey, there have been many who have taught and inspired me to be
a better person and a better helper. I must acknowledge my teachers Rajinder Singh,
J. Melvin Witmer, Harry Dewire, and James Pinnell, my first supervisor, who took me
as a raw recruit in a mental health clinic, sacrificing his time and talent to teach me
as an apprentice. We shared a zeal and passion for the profession, and his wisdom
infuses every chapter of this book. I must also mention my friends who have encour-
aged me in my writing: Sam Gladding, Gerald Corey, Jeffrey Kottler, Adam Blatner, John
Norcross, and Jerome Frank. I appreciate the feedback from Linda Robertson, and my
friends at Ohio State University, Darcy and Paul Granello. Tracy Hutchinson, my col-
league, deserves special mention for reading every chapter and giving feedback at every
step. I also recognize the helpful comments of those who reviewed various drafts of the
manuscript: Beulah Hirschlein, Oklahoma State University; Shawn Spurgeon, University
viii Preface
of Tennessee at Knoxville; Sue Stickel, Eastern Michigan University; Barbara Thompson,

George Washington University; and Carrie Wachter Morris, Purdue University.
I would like to thank my editor, Meredith Fossel, for her confidence and support.
Finally, I recognize the contribution of my wife, Jora, who remains my most demanding
critic and my staunchest supporter.
BRIEF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Helping as a Personal Journey 1

Chapter 2 The Nuts and Bolts of Helping 27
Chapter 3 The Therapeutic Relationship 51
Chapter 4 Invitational Skills 79
Chapter 5 Reflecting Skills: Paraphrasing 103
Chapter 6 Reflecting Skills: Reflecting Feelings 119
Chapter 7 Reflecting Skills: Reflecting Meaning and Summarizing 137
Chapter 8 Challenging Skills 164
Chapter 9 Assessment and the Initial Interview 189
Chapter 10 Goal-Setting Skills 221
Chapter 11 Change Techniques 243
Chapter 12 Outcome Evaluation and Termination Skills 260
Chapter 13 Therapeutic Factors and Advanced Change Techniques: Part I 279
Chapter 14 Therapeutic Factors and Advanced Change Techniques: Part II 306
Glossary 343
References 348
Index 373
ix
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 HELPING AS A PERSONAL JOURNEY 1

The Demands of the Journey 2
Becoming a Reflective Practitioner 2
Using Reflection to Help You Overcome Challenging Helping Situations
and Enhance Your Learning 3
Using Reflection to Help Clients with Backgrounds Different from Your Own 4
Using Reflection to Accommodate New Information about Yourself 4
Learning to Reflect Through Exercises in This Book 6
How a Helper Develops: Perry’s Stages 8
The Dualistic or “Right/Wrong” Stage 9
The Multiplistic Stage 9
The Relativistic Stage 10
The Development of Expertise 12
Implications of the Concept of Expertise for Training Helpers 12
The Challenge of Development 14
Taking Responsibility for Your Own Learning 14
Finding a Mentor 14
Finding the Perfect Technique 15
In Limbo 15
Accepting Feedback and Being Perfect 15
Following Ethical Guidelines 16
Individual Differences 17
The Perfect Helper, or When Do I Quit Developing? 18
Who Can Be an Effective Helper? 19
The Legacy of Rogers 19
Courage to Confront 20
Other Research on Effective Helping 20
What Can You Bring to a Client? 21
Video Exercises 23
Summary and Suggestions 24
Exercises 25
Small Group Discussions 25
Written Exercises and Self-Assessment 25
Homework 25
Journal Starters 25
x
Contents xi
Chapter 2 THE NUTS AND BOLTS OF HELPING 27

Defining Some Important Terms 28
What Is Helping? 28
Psychological Helping 30
Interviewing 30
What Are Counseling and Psychotherapy? 32
Coaching 33
How Is Professional Helping Different from Friendship? 33
What Can You Expect from a Helping Relationship? 34
Learning Basic Skills and Common Therapeutic Factors 37
Therapeutic Building Blocks 38
The Importance of the Building Block Skills 40
Stages of the Helping Process: A Road Map 40
Relationship Building: The Heart of Helping 42
Assessment Stage 43
Goal-Setting Stage 44
Intervention and Action Stage 44
Evaluation and Reflection Stage 45
Summary 47
Exercises 48
Group Exercises 48
Self-Assessment 50
Homework 50
Journal Starters 50
Chapter 3 THE THERAPEUTIC RELATIONSHIP 51

The Importance of the Therapeutic Relationship in Creating
Change 53
The Unique Characteristics of a Therapeutic Relationship 55
What Clients Say 56
How Can a Helper Create a Therapeutic Relationship? 57
Relationship Enhancers 57
Other Factors That Help or Strain the Therapeutic Relationship 63
Facilitative Office Environment 63
Distractions 64
Appearing Credible and Taking a Nonhierarchical Stance 64
xii Contents
Therapeutic Faux Pas 66

Transference and Countertransference 67
Summary 74
Exercises 75
Group Exercises 75
Homework 77
Journal Starters 78
Chapter 4 INVITATIONAL SKILLS 79

Listening to the Client’s Story 81
Nonverbal Communication Between Helper and Client 83
Nonverbal Skills in the Helping Relationship 84
Eye Contact 85
Body Position 86
Attentive Silence 86
Voice Tone 86
Facial Expressions and Gestures 87
Physical Distance 87
Touching and Warmth 88
Opening Skills: How to Invite 90
Encouragers 90
Questions 92
Summary 97
Exercises 98
Group Exercises 98
Written Exercises 101
Self-Assessment 101
Homework 101
Journal Starters 102
Chapter 5 REFLECTING SKILLS: PARAPHRASING 103

Reflecting Content and Thoughts, Reflecting Feelings, and Reflecting
Meaning 104
Reasons for Reflecting 106
Contents xiii
The Skill of Paraphrasing: Reflecting Content

and Thoughts 107
How to Paraphrase 108
When to Paraphrase 110
Common Problems in Paraphrasing 112
Simply Reciting the Facts 112
Difficulty Hearing the Story Because of “Noise” 112
Worrying about What to Say Next 113
Being Judgmental and Taking the Client’s Side 113
Being Judgmental of the Client 114
Summary 116
Exercises 116
Group Exercises 116
Self-Assessment 117
Homework 118
Chapter 6 REFLECTING SKILLS: REFLECTING FEELINGS 119

The Importance of Understanding Emotions 120
The Skill of Reflecting Feelings 120
Why It Is Difficult to Reflect Feelings 121
How to Reflect Feelings 122
A Formula for Reflecting Feelings 122
Improving Your Feeling Vocabulary 125
Common Problems in Reflecting Feelings 126
Asking the Client, “How Did You Feel?” or “How Did That
Make You Feel?” 126
Waiting Too Long to Reflect 126
Turning the Reflection into a Question 127
Combining a Reflection and a Question: The Error of the Compound
Response 127
Focusing on the Wrong Person or the Wrong Topic 127
Letting the Client Ramble 129
Using the Word Feel Instead of Think 129
Undershooting and Overshooting 130
xiv Contents
Parroting 130
Letting Your Reflecting Statements Go On and On 131
Summary 133
Exercises 133
Group Exercises 133
Self-Assessment 135
Homework 136
Chapter 7 REFLECTING SKILLS: REFLECTING MEANING

AND SUMMARIZING 137
Meaning, Uncovering the Next Layer 139
Why Reflect Meaning? 141
Challenging the Client to Go Deeper: The Inner
Circle Strategy 142
Worldview 144
How to Identify Meaning Issues with a Client 145
Reflecting Meaning 145
Using Open Questions to Uncover Meaning 148
Summarizing 149
Focusing Summaries 149
Signal Summaries 150
Thematic Summaries 150
Planning Summaries 151
The Nonjudgmental Listening Cycle 151
When Do You Use Each Skill? 151
Why Is the Cycle Described as Nonjudgmental? 153
A Questioning Cycle Typically Found Early in
Training 154
Summary 158
Exercises 158
Group Exercises 158
Self-Assessment 161
Homework 161
Contents xv
Chapter 8 CHALLENGING SKILLS 164

When Should We Use the Challenging Skills? 166
Giving Feedback 167
Why Is Feedback Important? 167
The Johari Window 168
How to Give Feedback 169
Confrontation 172
Why Should Inconsistencies Be Confronted? 172
Cognitive Dissonance and Confrontation: Why Confrontation
Works 173
Types of Discrepancies 173
How to Confront 175
Steps to Confrontation 176
Other Ways of Confronting 177
Evaluating Confrontation and Client Response 180
The Client Acceptance Scale: Gauging the Client’s Response to
Confrontation 180
Problems and Precautions 183
Summary 185
Exercises 185
Group Exercises 185
Self-Assessment 188
Homework 188
Chapter 9 ASSESSMENT AND THE INITIAL INTERVIEW 189

Why Assessment? 190
Testing as an Assessment Tool 192
Assessment Is a Critical Part of Helping 192
Reasons to Spend Time in the Assessment Stage 193
Categorizing Clients and Their Problems 196
Organizing the Flood of Information: Making a Diagnosis 196
Beginning Assessment Methods 198
The Mental Status Examination 198
Observation 200
Questioning 203
xvi Contents
Genograms 204
Conducting an Interview Using a Brief Intake Form 207
When to Refer Someone for In-Depth Testing 216
Summary 218
Exercises 218
Group Exercises 218
Self-Assessment 219
Homework 220
Chapter 10 GOAL-SETTING SKILLS 221

Where Do I Go from Here? Set Goals! 223
Why Must We Set Goals? 223
When to Set Goals 224
What Are the Characteristics of Constructive Goals? 224
Goals Should Be Specific 225
Goals Should Be Stated Positively 226
Goals Should Be Simple 227
Goals Should Be Important to the Client 228
Goals Should Be Collaboration between Helper
and Client 229
Goals Should Be Realistic 229
Resources for Identifying and Clarifying Goals 231
Who Owns the Problem? The Technique of Focusing on
the Client 232
How to Focus on the Client 232
The Technique of Boiling Down the Problem 234
Constructing Measurable Goals 236
Long-Term and Short-Term Goals 237
Summary 240
Exercises 240
Group Exercises 240
Self-Assessment 242
Contents xvii
Homework 242
Chapter 11 CHANGE TECHNIQUES 243

Giving Advice and Information 245
Giving Advice 245
Giving Information 248
Brainstorming 249
Creativity and the Art of Helping 249
What Is Brainstorming? 250
How to Brainstorm 251
The Skill of Alternate Interpretation 253
How to Teach a Client to Use Alternate Interpretation 253
Summary 256
Exercises 257
Group Exercises 257
Small Group Discussion 258
Self-Assessment 259
Homework 259
Chapter 12 OUTCOME EVALUATION AND TERMINATION SKILLS 260

Evaluating the Effectiveness of Helping 262
Basic Outcome Evaluation Methods 263
Use Progress Notes to Track Improvement on Goals 263
Use a Global Measure to Detect Overall Improvement 264
Use a Specific Measure 265
Use Subjective Scaling and Self-Report to Measure
Improvement 265
Use Another Person to Monitor Change 265
Use Client Satisfaction Scales 266
Use Goal-Attainment Measures 266
Use Program Evaluation 267
Termination 268
How to Prevent Premature Termination 268
How to Tell Whether Termination is Needed 270
How to Prepare a Client for Termination 271
xviii Contents
Dealing with Loss at Termination 271

The Helper’s Reaction to Termination 272
How to Maintain Therapeutic Gains and Prevent Relapse Following
Termination 272
Follow-up 272
Fading 273
Contacts with Paraprofessionals 273
Self-Help Groups 273
Self-Monitoring Activities 273
Self-Management Skills 274
Role-Playing for Relapse Prevention 274
Letter Writing 274
Summary 275
Exercises 275
Group Exercises 275
Self-Assessment 277
Homework 277
Chapter 13 THERAPEUTIC FACTORS AND ADVANCED CHANGE TECHNIQUES:

PART I 279
REPLAN and the Therapeutic Factors 280
R = Establishing and Maintaining a Strong Helper/Client Relationship 281
E = Enhancing Efficacy and Self-Esteem 281
P = Practicing New Behaviors 281
L = Lowering and Raising Emotional Arousal 281
A = Activating Client Expectations, Hope, and Motivation 281
N = Providing New Learning Experiences 281
Treatment Planning and the REPLAN System 281
Steps in Treatment Planning Using the REPLAN Model 282
The Therapeutic Factor of Enhancing Efficacy and Self-Esteem 283
Sources of Low Self-Esteem 286
Silencing the Internal Critic: The Technique of Countering 288
How to Counter 288
Problems and Precautions When Teaching the Countering Technique 290
A Variation on Countering: Thought Stopping 290
Contents xix
Practicing New Behaviors 291

Role-Playing 292
Elements of Role-Playing 293
Three Phases of Psychodramatic Role-Playing 293
How to Conduct Role-Playing 294
Problems and Precautions with Role-Playing 295
Giving Homework Assignments 295
Reasons for Using Homework 296
Examples of Homework Assignments 296
Problems and Precautions with Homework 298
Summary 301
Exercises 301
Group Exercises 301
Self-Assessment 304
Homework 304
Chapter 14 THERAPEUTIC FACTORS AND ADVANCED CHANGE

TECHNIQUES: PART II 306
Lowering and Raising Emotional Arousal 308
Reducing Negative Emotions 308
Reducing Anxiety and Stress 308
Raising Emotional Arousal and Facilitating Expression 313
Techniques That Stimulate Emotional Arousal and Expression 315
Creative Arts 315
Activating Client Expectations, Hope, and Motivation 317
The Demoralization Hypothesis 319
Increasing Expectations 319
Encouragement 321
How to Encourage 325
Providing New Learning Experiences 328
Definitions of New Learning 328
What Client Problems Are Helped Through New Learning? 329
Resistance to New Learning 329
Common Methods Helpers Use to Provide New Learning Experiences
for Clients 330
The Technique of Reframing 333
xx Contents
Summary 337
Exercises 337
Group Exercises 337
Self-Assessment 340
Homework 340
Glossary 343
References 348
Index 373
C H A P T E R
1
Helping as a Personal Journey
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have the opportunity to practice your skills through video- and case-based Assignments
and Activities as well as Building Counseling Skills units, and to prepare for your
certification exam with Practice for Certification quizzes.
The Demands of the Journey How a Helper Develops: Perry’s

Becoming a Reflective Practitioner Stages
• Using Reflection to Help You • The Dualistic or “Right/Wrong” Stage
Overcome Challenging Helping • The Multiplistic Stage
Situations and Enhance Your Learning • The Relativistic Stage
• Using Reflection to Help Clients with The Development of Expertise
Backgrounds Different from Your • Implications of the Concept of
Own Expertise for Training Helpers
• Using Reflection to Accommodate The Challenge of Development
New Information about Yourself • Taking Responsibility for Your Own
• Learning to Reflect Through Exercises Learning
in This Book • Finding a Mentor
1
2 Chapter 1 • Helping as a Personal Journey
• Finding the Perfect Technique • Other Research on Effective Helping

• In Limbo What Can You Bring to a Client?
• Accepting Feedback and Being Perfect Summary and Suggestions
• Following Ethical Guidelines
Exercises
• Individual Differences
• Small Group Discussions
The Perfect Helper, or When Do I • Written Exercises and Self-Assessment
Quit Developing? • Homework
Who Can Be an Effective Helper? • Journal Starters
• The Legacy of Rogers
• Courage to Confront
THE DEMANDS OF THE JOURNEY

Learning to be a professional helper is a journey that takes years. Besides gaining a
basic fund of knowledge about people and their strengths and challenges, one must be
constantly learning and updating knowledge just as a physician needs to know about
new treatments and new diseases. But helping is also a personal, “interior” journey
because you must be committed to understanding yourself as well as your clients. In this
book you will learn the essential counseling skills, but it is not enough to be skilled; at
every turn, you face self-doubt, personal prejudices, and feelings of attraction, repulsion,
and frustration. You will experience self-doubt when your clients encounter complex
and unfamiliar problems; you will experience attraction and repulsion because of your
personal needs and prejudices based on your cultural conditioning. Moreover, all helpers
become frustrated at times when clients fail to reach the goals we expect of them. These
reactions can be roadblocks on our journey if they interfere with the ability to form a
vibrant client/helper relationship or when we see the client as a reflection of ourselves
rather than as a unique human being. Irvin Yalom, in his book Love’s Executioner (1989,
pp. 94–95), describes his treatment of an obese woman who is depressed. From the
moment he meets her, he is disgusted by her body and realizes his reaction is extreme.
It makes him think about the rejection he received for being Jewish and white during
his childhood in segregated Washington, D.C. He thinks that maybe his repulsion is a
historical attempt to have someone to reject as he was rejected. It makes him wonder why
he cannot accept fatness even though he was able to easily counsel people who were
criminals when he worked in a prison. All of these reactions flood into his mind before
the client ever even opens her mouth. Becoming aware of our prejudiced responses to
others is part of the journey of the professional helper. This journey is difficult because
it requires that we simultaneously try to focus on the client while keeping a close watch
on our own tendencies to judge, to boost our egos, or to force our viewpoint on others.
BECOMING A REFLECTIVE PRACTITIONER

Because of the challenges caused by our personal reactions and unique client characteris-
tics, we believe that helpers need a method of integrating new learning and coping with
moments of indecision and doubt. In this book, we teach one method of dealing with the
dilemma of understanding the client and monitoring the self. This is an approach called
Chapter 1 • Helping as a Personal Journey 3
the reflective practitioner. Being a reflective practitioner means that you make a com-
mitment to personal awareness of your automatic reactions and prejudices by taking time
to think back on them and perhaps record them in a journal or discuss them with a su-
pervisor or colleague. In other words, the reflective practitioner consciously reviews what
has happened and decides on a plan of action. Jeffrey Kottler (2004) considers reflection
to be not only a necessary characteristic of an effective helper but also a form of training.
Reflection trains one to be open to contemplation, to consider alternative plans of action,
to become resourceful, and to be inquisitive in one’s lifestyle as well as in one’s work.
You may find that your teachers ask you to use reflective methods in class and
on your own. For example, the teacher might use Socratic questioning (asking leading
questions), journal writing, watching and then reflecting on video segments, utilizing
small groups to react to case studies, or even reflecting teams (Griffith & Frieden, 2000;
Magnuson & Norem, 2002; Willow, Bastow, & Ratkowski, 2007). Just as every client will
respond to the same technique or skill in a different way, you, as a student, will react to
different learning situations based on your history and favored learning styles. Some stu-
dents learn best by listening and then reflecting, others need to write down what they are
learning, and some do best when they can have hands-on experience and then talk about
the theory. Thus, you will respond differently to different assignments throughout your
program of study based on your individual preferences. Still, reflection can help you even
when a teacher’s method does not suit your learning style. You can record what is said
and then write your reaction and rebuttals in the margins. You can come to class with
questions and concerns based on last week’s lesson. In short, the method of the reflective
practitioner challenges you to be more than a receptacle of knowledge. It asks that you
chew everything before you digest it, rather than asking you to remember and give back
just what you have heard or read.
Using Reflection to Help You Overcome Challenging Helping

Situations and Enhance Your Learning
If you are engaged in a course of study to become a professional helper, you will be con-
fronted with many new experiences both in the classroom and when you actually meet
your clients. For example, a client may be hostile and uncooperative. Your training may
tell you to encourage clients to articulate their concerns more fully. But sometimes this
seems to make the client even madder. The process of reflection can help at such times
when tried and true methods are not working. Let me give an example from my own ex-
perience. When I was first learning group counseling, I read in several textbooks that cli-
ents should never receive both group and individual therapy at the same time. As I began
to practice group counseling, I found support for this rule in the fact that when clients
received both treatments, they did not contribute to the group, saving their most personal
issues for their individual sessions. One day, I received a new client for my group who
had undergone a number of very traumatic events and was still in individual counseling
with another therapist. She performed beautifully in group, and she felt that individual
counseling was a vital support in her life. She seemed to be profiting from both treat-
ments. Normally, I would insist on the client dropping out of individual counseling while
she attended my group, but now my rule of thumb was in jeopardy because it did not
seem to be limiting her progress or the group. In fact, she was applying the insights of in-
dividual counseling to her interpersonal world! I went to my supervisor with my dilemma,
and she helped me put my old rule and my new experience together. With her help, I
constructed a revised rule: “Most of the time, clients will not benefit from both forms of
treatment; however, there are times, especially when the client is in need of a great deal
of support or has been traumatized, when both modalities might be beneficial.” I have
found that the process of reflection allows me to better accommodate new information
rather than rejecting it out of hand. You will undoubtedly experience similar moments as
you study the skills of helping. You may be shocked when you discover that the meth-
ods you have always used to help your friends are not recommended in a therapeutic
relationship. At times like these, reflection can help you meld old and new information.
Using Reflection to Help Clients with Backgrounds Different

from Your Own
An important and frequent challenge occurs when you encounter people who are com-
pletely different from you in one or several ways: culture or ethnicity, socioeconomics,
education, race, religion/spirituality, and family rules and relationships. For example, you
will encounter family situations where people openly express their thoughts and feelings
and others where they rarely if ever reveal their inner lives to each other. Because of
your own upbringing, you might be shocked or you might disapprove. If you undertake
the challenge of becoming a reflective practitioner, allow yourself to register surprise and
all the other emotions as you encounter these novel situations. Later, take time to think
back on what you know and what you have learned and compare it with your new ex-
perience. Through reflecting, you will be better able to separate your personal prejudices
about what seems normal and perhaps look at the situation from an alternate viewpoint.
The ability to see another perspective is enhanced when you have the opportunity to re-
flect with teachers, fellow students, and supervisors. Growth means that we expand and
are able to see multiple viewpoints. That is why we think of helpers as expanders rather
than as “shrinks.”
Using Reflection to Accommodate New Information about Yourself

Perhaps more than any other profession, helping requires helpers to become aware of
their own personalities, preferences, values, and feelings. Reflection can help you inte-
grate new discoveries that you make about yourself. It allows you to carefully consider
the feedback you are getting from supervisors, teachers, fellow students, and even your
clients. In the course of your training, others will comment on your interpersonal style
(the typical way you interact with others), your words, and even your gestures and pos-
ture. You will frequently become defensive, rationalizing your mistakes, discounting the
giver of feedback, or blaming the client for a lack of progress. These are natural reflexes
to the threat of feeling uncertain, impotent, or incompetent. The reflective practitioner is
one who examines and reflects on critical incidents and strong personal feelings in the
course of supervision, rather than making excuses or blaming others. He or she learns
from difficult clients, unpleasant interactions, failure of a technique, and unexpected suc-
cesses (Gordon, 2004). So being a reflective practitioner also means having the courage
to ask for feedback from others and then to reflect on how you can work more effectively
in a particularly difficult situation (Schön, 1983, 1987).
The following discussion describes some ways that you can be proactive in reflect-
ing on your practice, including asking for supervision, developing a support group of
fellow learners, becoming a client yourself, and keeping a personal journal. In addition,
this book contains a number of exercises to help you learn more about the process of
reflection.
ASK FOR SUPERVISION Supervision is the practice of a helper and a supervisor sitting
down to review the helper’s problems and successes with his or her clients. In supervi-
sion, you will reflect on possible courses of action, ethical issues, and personal reactions.
Everyone in the helping field needs periodic supervision whether he or she is a student
or a long-time practitioner. Professional helpers are required to be under supervision
while they are students and during their postdegree internships. Lawrence LeShan (1996)
reported that his own mentor still sought supervision for herself, even when she was in
her 80s, indicating that the reflective process is necessary at all stages of the journey. This
approach abandons the view of supervision as a dependent relationship and guidance
as the main reason for the supervisory relationship. Supervision’s real value is that it is a
time set aside for you to listen to yourself as you explain it to someone else. As a student,
you may have the opportunity to ask supervisors and faculty members to look at your
videos and discuss cases with you. Make use of this valuable opportunity to reflect on
your work. Schön (1987) indicates that having a “master teacher” is important, but it must
be in a setting where you have the chance to face real problems, try out various solutions,
and make mistakes. This is called reflection in action.
DEVELOP A SUPPORT GROUP OF FELLOW LEARNERS Another golden opportunity for re-
flecting on your new learning is to develop a supportive group of co-learners with whom
you can discuss your personal reactions. Many therapists in private practice are members
of such groups. In some training programs, students are part of a cohort or group that
goes through every class together. If you are not part of a cohort, you can still develop a
supportive group that meets regularly, shares information, and studies together.
BECOME A CLIENT Another way of building in a reflective component is entering a

counseling relationship as a client. More than half of therapists enter therapy after their
advanced training and about 90% consider it to be very beneficial (Norcross, 1990). Many
universities offer free counseling to students, and this can be a way for you to experience
what it is like to sit in the other chair. You should be aware that some schools restrict
their counseling centers to people who are in critical need.
KEEP A PERSONAL JOURNAL One of the most popular methods for reflecting is to keep
a personal journal. Journaling about one’s problems, feelings, relationships, and dreams
has dramatically increased in recent years. Some helpers even use journals as a therapeutic
technique (Stone, 1998). They write their reflections to clients in letters or client and coun-
selor journal together and compare notes. There is also a boom in online Internet journals.
For example, the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP) has an online journal
for those experiencing grief and loss, which can be downloaded from their website. There
is even a magazine called Personal Journaling. Personal journaling is also available on
your smartphone using applications such as iJournal, Maxjournal, and Momento.
OTHER METHODS FOR REFLECTING Some researchers (Gordon, 2004; Sax, 2006) have
compiled lists of opportunities for reflection. These opportunities, which were submitted
by helpers, can become part of one’s regular study or during work with clients. Reflecting
can take place:
• When writing case notes
• During group supervision
• During individual discussion with a supervisor
• In personal therapy
• While journal writing
• During meditation
• As a part of course assignments such as papers
• While listening to recorded counseling sessions
• When talking informally to fellow counselors
• When suddenly thinking about a client
• In online groups, synchronously or asynchronously
Learning to Reflect Through Exercises in This Book

As you read this book, we will offer several opportunities to develop this reflective habit.
In every chapter, we have included “Stop and Reflect” sections that ask you to consider
your reaction to real cases or situations. You will also have the opportunity to receive
feedback from your fellow students and to reflect on your own progress when you prac-
tice new skills. Finally, we have included suggested journal questions at the end of each
chapter. These questions are meant to kindle your thinking, but do not feel that answer-
ing these questions is your only journaling option. If you do not find the stimulus ques-
tion to be relevant, design your own, or instead, record your reaction to your practice
sessions each week.
Now, let us actually engage in the process of reflecting by responding to an inven-
tory of your attitudes about helping. The key step is to record your answers and then
think back on what it might reveal about you. Rather than writing what might impress
your teacher or fellow students, in this self-assessment, try to respond as honestly as pos-
sible. Toward the middle of your course and again at the end, you may wish to review
this inventory, change your answers, reflect on it in writing, and determine if your at-
titudes have shifted. For the time being, answer the questions and then write down a re-
flection or two about what you notice in your answers. Remember, the “Stop and Reflect”
sections in this book have no right or wrong answers. They ask for personal reactions
and hopefully stimulate your thinking. They can make your learning more interactive if
you take the time to respond as authentically as you can. When you are asked to agree
or disagree, try to be as honest as possible and be aware of any internal censoring that
occurs. Just as Yalom did with his obese client, think about where these censoring or
prejudicial thoughts are coming from. You may or may not wish to share your answers
with others during a class discussion, but by putting your answers on paper, you can
take a step back and look at your thoughts from a more objective viewpoint. That is what
reflection is really all about: taking yourself out of the situation and looking at it from
a more detached perspective. You may find that your implicit viewpoints about human
nature, your attitudes about helping, and your personal values come into sharper focus.
Let us begin this experiment in reflecting by becoming aware of the basic attitudes you
bring to the helping relationship.
STOP AND REFLECT

1. Write A or D next to each of the following statements, indicating whether you agree or disa-
gree. Put down any thoughts on a separate sheet that may clarify or qualify your responses.
a. In most cases, clients come to me for help because they are in a crisis. They need leadership.
In order to help, I should generally be active and directive, have a lot of knowledge, and
provide guidance and advice.
b. Clients may have different values about families, religious principles, and what is important
in life. It is not up to me to change clients’ values or even talk about such personal issues.
c. The relationship between helper and client must be a good one. Without “good chemis-
try,” the counseling process will be difficult, if not impossible.
d. I must remain at a professional distance. Caring too much about a client makes me lose my
objectivity.
e. People are responsible for their own problems. I must get clients to work on themselves
rather than blaming others.
f. If I have not been through an experience personally, I cannot help another person deal with
it.
g. I should never disclose anything personal to a client; the client’s issues should be paramount.
2. Answer the following questions:
As a helper, which do you think you are most likely to focus on helping a client to
change? (You may circle more than one.)
a. A client’s feelings
b. A client’s thoughts and perceptions
c. A client’s behaviors
Why? ___________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
When talking with a client about a problem, which do you think are most likely to interest
you?
a. The history of the problem
b. The present difficulties caused by the problem
c. The client’s future goals
d. The client’s personality
Why? ___________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
Do you think a helper is more responsible for helping a client adjust to the difficulties in the
world or for changing the society that breeds these problems?
Why? ___________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
3. On a separate sheet of paper, describe briefly a specific circumstance in which you actually
displayed each of the following helper characteristics:
• Empathy (the ability to put yourself in the shoes of another, to understand the other per-
son’s subjective reality)
(Continued )
• Positive regard (the ability to respect another person, even though you may not like what he
or she has done)
• Genuineness (the ability to be honest and open with another person, even though what you
have to say might be difficult to express)
• Courage to confront (the ability to bring up inconsistent thoughts, feelings, and behaviors
displayed by the client and the willingness to address “touchy subjects”)
4. The following are some difficult situations helpers face. Rank-order them from 1 to 6, depend-
ing on how uncomfortable you might feel in each case. In this ranking system, 6 denotes the
most difficult for you, and 1 is the least difficult.
• A client is considering suicide.
• A client is suffering from the death of a loved one.
• A client is struggling over whether to get an abortion.
• A client has religious beliefs that you feel are wrong.
• An adolescent client is trying to decide whether he is gay or straight.
• A married client is having an affair.
5. Stop and Reflect: As you look back on your answers, what life experiences have probably
shaped your answers? Which issues are most likely to elicit conflict and personal challenges for
you during your training? Which answers were the most difficult for you to answer? Where
were you stumped? Where were you most confident?
HOW A HELPER DEVELOPS: PERRY’S STAGES

Susan has known for a long time that she wants to work with people. During her teen-
age years, a school counselor helped her cope during her parents’ divorce. She worked
as a camp counselor and really enjoyed helping kids. Since then, she has always hoped
to work in a helping profession. She is finally sitting in her first course, a techniques
class where she will begin her formal training. Suddenly, she is filled with a combi-
nation of excitement and apprehension. What if she can’t do it? What if she says the
wrong thing in front of the class or to a fragile client? She is confident in her abilities
to memorize facts from the textbook and to select the best answers in multiple-choice
exams, but can she really learn and demonstrate her skills? Is she in the wrong place?
Three weeks into the class, Susan is still nervous. When her professor calls on
her to practice a role play, her stomach is in knots. She feels light-headed as she makes
her way to the front of the classroom. She fears that she will forget the skills she has
just learned, that she will make a mistake, that her mind will go blank, and that she
will appear foolish to her classmates and professor. A few weeks later, Susan feels
more confident because she has been practicing and getting better feedback from her
teacher and fellow students. She still struggles, but there are moments when she feels
more comfortable and effective.
Beginning a new course of study can be simultaneously exciting, overwhelming, and

intimidating. Maybe you have even watched an experienced professional at work and
thought, “How does he or she know what to say? How will I ever know the right an-
swers?” Perhaps you even feel apprehensive as you read this, wondering whether you will
ever learn to help by talking with someone. The desire to learn the “right” answers and to
make the “right” interventions, and the nervousness that accompanies it, are a natural part
of the process of becoming a helper. It may be comforting to know that students often
progress through a series of developmental stages and that this tendency to want answers
immediately is normal. Let us begin with an overview of the developmental stages that
you can expect to experience during your training. The stages of cognitive development
presented here are based on the work of Perry (1970), who studied undergraduate stu-
dents during a 20-year period. Later research found that Perry’s stages are also applicable
to graduate students learning a new profession (Simpson, Dalgaard, & O’Brien, 1986) and
to counseling students (Fong, Borders, Ethington, & Pitts, 1998; Granello, 2002).
By recognizing these stages as they arise, you may be able to avoid some of the
discouragement that may accompany learning new skills when you realize that you are on
the expected path. You may also be able to identify some ways to get beyond the thinking
patterns that are holding you back. The three stages are the dualistic stage, the multiplistic
stage, and the relativistic stage.
The Dualistic or “Right/Wrong” Stage

The first stage is a dualistic or absolutist position that can also be called the “right/wrong”
stage. The dualistic stage is characterized by the belief that a helper’s responses to a
client are either right or wrong. In the beginning, trainees often believe that there is only
one right way to respond to a client’s statement or situation. This black/white, success/
failure way of thinking increases the internal pressure and makes helpers overly con-
cerned with their own performance. Moreover, they may fail to listen fully to their clients
because they are thinking about what they are going to say next. They may feel that, by
planning their next statement, they will be able to construct a better response. Actually,
they are missing the boat by ruminating as the flow of the interview sails on by. Students
in this stage often ask for direct feedback with questions such as “Was that right?” “How
long should I wait before giving advice?” and “What should I have told the client when
she asked me that question?” They are frustrated and annoyed when the teacher fails to
indicate what is right and what is wrong.
The Multiplistic Stage

As you learn the therapeutic building blocks presented in the early chapters of this book,
you will recognize that there are actually many possible responses to each statement a
client makes. Eventually, you will become comfortable with the knowledge that there is
no one right answer at any moment in the helping process. Because of the diversity in cli-
ents’ backgrounds, experiences, and worldviews, what is “right” for one client may not be
helpful at all for another. For example, a client considering leaving her boyfriend might
say something like this: “I think that I should get out of the relationship, and then other
times I think that I should stay. Everyone is giving me advice. What do you suggest?” You
might react in several different ways:
You could respond with a question: “What aspects of the relationship make you
question whether you should continue it?”
You could respond with a reflection of feeling: “You feel overwhelmed and con-
fused, and you would like someone to guide you.”
You could respond with a confrontation: “On the one hand, you are saying that you
are confused by all the advice; on the other hand, you want me to give my view-
point. How will another viewpoint help?”
Each of these responses could be helpful, depending on the client’s unique situation.
When you discover that there are several “right” answers to the same client statement, you
will have moved into a multiplistic way of thinking. Unfortunately, at the multiplistic
stage, all interventions and techniques may seem equally appropriate. You may even find
yourself feeling overwhelmed by so many possibilities and wondering what differentiates
a good response from a great one.
Students at this stage often report being frustrated and defensive with supervi-
sors who “correct” them, because all roads seem to be equally valid. For example, a
student may pose a series of probing questions to a client. The supervisor points out
that the questions make the client feel interrogated and that the best course would be
to identify and reflect the client’s feelings. The student at the multiplistic stage knows
that questioning can be a valid approach, but he or she does not yet understand when
this approach is most appropriate and therefore is confused about what to do. Students
at this stage may feel that because there are many possible “right” responses to a given
situation, there is no organized system in helping. In fact, the students’ ideas may seem
just as valid as the instructor’s. Here are some common statements students make at this
phase of development, indicating their confusion when confronted with several helpful
responses:
“I watched Albert Ellis on film. He was very effective, and he didn’t do any of the
things you taught us.”
“I can’t see why you told me not to ask so many closed questions when you told
Ximena that it was all right with her client.”
“I thought you said that we weren’t supposed to give advice, and now you’re saying
that I should have given this client more direction.”
The Relativistic Stage

When you have gained some experience through study and practice, you will move into
a relativistic stage. At that stage, you will recognize that although many types of re-
sponses may be appropriate, depending on circumstances, some are relatively better than
others. You will become more skilled at choosing from the many possibilities based on
the available information and on the goals for the session. Let us reconsider the client we
discussed earlier who was asking for help with a relationship problem. The client said,
“I think that I should get out of the relationship, and then other times I think that I should
stay. Everyone is giving me advice. What do you suggest?” We identified three different
possible helper responses, each of which leads in a different direction. The interventions
and possible client reactions are as follows:
Question: “What aspects of the relationship make you question whether you
should continue it?”
Response: The client will probably discuss the good and bad points of the rela-
tionship.
Reflection of Feeling: “You feel overwhelmed and confused, and you would like
someone to guide you.”
Response: The client will talk about feelings and may indicate why she feels so
helpless.
Confrontation: “On the one hand, you are saying that you are confused by all the
advice; on the other hand, you want me to give my viewpoint. How will another
viewpoint help?”
Response: The client may respond with anger at the helper’s perception that she is
maintaining her confusion by asking people for advice. The client may also begin to
explore her lack of confidence in her own decisions.
Obviously, none of these responses is glaringly wrong, but each will take the session in
a different direction. When you reach the relativistic stage, you will judge a response as
good or bad, depending on whether it takes the session in the most helpful direction for
the client. You will have moved past a belief in right or wrong answers and toward an
understanding that your choice of responses will have particular repercussions. This will
happen when you have the knowledge and self-confidence to make effective choices
among a wide variety of interventions and techniques. As contrasted with the dualistic
stage, you will probably not be so concerned with your own performance, and you will
be better able to think about the effects of certain responses on the client and the ef-
fectiveness of the responses in reaching the desired goals. Achieving the relativistic stage
takes time. By becoming a reflective practitioner, you can speed this process along; how-
ever, you may not become a comfortable resident of the relativistic stage until long after
this course is over. The main value of thinking about stages of development is that it can
help you recognize that your struggles are part of a normal progression. In the beginning,
try to focus less on grades and “right” answers. Instead, keep your focus on the effects
your interventions are having on your clients. Listening to and reflecting on feedback
and making changes based on the feedback will be the most helpful tools to spur your
development as a helper.
There are three questions that guide the helper in selecting skills at this juncture:
What?, When?, and How? What? refers to which skill the helper should use. What will be
the most effective technique with this client’s particular problem? When? refers to selecting
the skill that is most appropriate at this point in the therapeutic relationship. For example,
being very confrontational early on in the relationship does not make sense, as you have
not yet earned the right to be so direct. How? refers to how you say it. In other words,
how can the helper frame his or her response to best reach the client and facilitate change?
DO COUNSELORS DEVELOP?
Darcy Granello’s (2002) article entitled “Assessing the Cognitive Development of Counseling
Students: Changes and Epistemological Assumptions” deserves special attention. In
her research, Dr. Granello studied counselors as they progressed through their training
(a longitudinal study), and she also compared groups of students who were at different
stages in their training (a cross-sectional study). In general, she found that counselors do
change in their thinking along the lines Perry suggests (though perhaps not so neatly). The
students in her study showed most growth during the later stages of their training—when
they are most involved with clients. On the other hand, experience in human services, age,
and grade point average seemed to have no effect on how quickly students developed.
What we can take away from this study is that (1) time may be a necessary factor in training
even for those who are older, wiser, and have previous experience, and (2) contact with
clients may accelerate our growth when it is in combination with ongoing training.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF EXPERTISE

Another way of thinking about helper development is that it is a matter of developing
expertise or mastery. This definition is more skills-oriented than Perry’s cognitive system.
The concept of levels of expertise is a commonsense approach that has been around
for centuries, especially in the skilled trades. For example, we often hear of a master
carpenter, master plumber, or master electrician. The terms master counselor or master
therapist have also been used among helpers. For example, the American Association for
Marriage and Family Therapy has, for a long time, invited and videotaped master thera-
pists working with real clients. It has long been known that expertise in helping does
not come solely from university degrees or from years of experience. Becoming a master
is probably the result of training, experience, mentoring, and a passion and zeal for the
profession that keeps one a lifetime learner.
Robert Hoffman and his associates (Hoffman, Shadboldt, Burton, & Klein, 1995)
have studied the concept of expertise and concluded that mastery comes after a long
period of hands-on experience, perhaps even 10 years, during which time one gains at
least 50,000 bits of information (Hoffman et al., 1995). Thus, it is understandable that
expertise in helping also takes a lengthy apprenticeship because of the vast differences
among clients and the immense amount of knowledge needed to assess, diagnose, and
treat various disorders and problems. Hoffman and his colleagues use traditional “guild”
terminology from the trades to divide expertise into seven stages. In Table 1.1, you will
see this concept applied to the development of expertise in helping (Young, 1998).
Implications of the Concept of Expertise for Training Helpers

The first piece of disappointing news that comes from this discussion of expertise is that
one cannot master the art of helping in one semester or even 2 years of formal training.
Although becoming a master of the helping art is a lifetime journey, we sometimes expect
to have some measure of competence quickly. Those feelings may elude you for quite
some time. Take comfort in the small victories when your instructor or fellow students
notice your progress—even if it is hard for you to see.
A second implication is that, despite what state legislatures allow, a new helper is
probably not able to handle all of the day-to-day decisions independent of supervision
after 2 years of education and 2 more years of supervised experience. A journeyman still
needs ongoing contact with an expert or master counselor. Supervision is a vital part of
the journey because when you are a working professional, it may be the only time when
you are able to reflect during the day.
Third, people enter this training with varying levels of expertise. A significant
number are already journeymen when they register for basic counseling skills training
(McLennan, 1994). If you are in this situation, you may feel that your time is being
wasted going back over the basic skills. I have frequently taught basic skills to students
who have been working as helpers for several years. Invariably, the more experienced
students eventually feel that the course has been extremely valuable. They report that it
was beneficial to reexamine their basic positions on important questions such as “Under
what circumstances should I give advice?” and they feel that they may have not been as
thoughtful as needed about treatment alternatives when working in a system that pre-
scribes the way that clients are counseled. If you already have some helping experience,
you may find that on-the-job training has not been systematic and that this course can
TABLE 1.1 “Guild” Terminology for Helper Development (Based on Hoffman et al., 1995)
Naivette One who knows nothing about the practice of counseling or

psychotherapy—a layperson. This term was coined by Hoffman to identify a
person who is completely naive to the trade.
Novice The word novice means one who is new. The novice is a new trainee who
is on probation, for example, someone beginning the first class in basic
counseling skills but not yet accepted into the program.
Initiate A person who has been selected for a program and has begun introductory
training—a new student in his or her first semester.
Apprentice A student still undergoing instruction but who is beyond the introductory
level. The apprentice is fully immersed in the practice of counseling and
works as an assistant. Students in practicum and internship experiences are
apprentices. In the trades, apprenticeship lasts from 1 to 12 years.
Journeyman The term journeyman comes from the French word for day, journée. A
journeyman is one who can do a day’s work unsupervised. A journeyman
works on orders from his or her supervisor. In the counseling field, this
period may last for many years, even beyond the two to three years
postgraduate experience required by the supervisor or the licensing state.
Expert An expert is an exceptional journeyman who is highly esteemed by his or
her peers, whose diagnostic and counseling skills are exceptionally accurate,
and who can quickly and effectively deal with normal counseling situations.
In addition, the expert is one who can handle “tough cases” and may
have some particular area of expertise based on considerable experience
with a particular type of problem—for example, substance abuse, crisis
intervention, domestic violence, and so on. Expert status is by no means
inevitable. Some helpers stay at the journeyman stage for life.
Master A master therapist is one of a select group of experts who are qualified
to teach others. A master is one whose judgments and practices become
standards for others to follow. One way to identify a master is that he or
she is regarded as an expert by other experts. Frequently, this is because the
master is thought of as “the expert” in a particular area within the field.
Source: Young, M. E. (1998). Skills-based training for counselors: Microskills or mega-skills? Counseling
and Human Development, 31(3), 2. Reprinted with permission of Love Publishing.
help fill in the gaps. You may also discover that your experience allows you to make
connections not available to you the first time you learned these skills. If you feel that
this course is repetitious, ask your instructor for more challenging assignments. Also, with
your instructor’s permission, find ways to help other members of your training group by
giving them detailed feedback. Encourage them to reflect on their learning. You will be
learning supervision skills as you do so.
These suggestions about how to develop expertise in counseling are consistent with
the findings of Skovholt, Ronnestad, and Jennings (1997), who state that expertise is not
achieved merely by cramming our heads with knowledge. Part of what spurs one to the
next level of development is learning to reflect on experiences. Recently I told one of
my colleagues that a certain individual should know what he is doing. After all, I said,
“he has 15 years’ experience.” “Yes,” said my colleague, “but it is the same year over and
over again.” I believe he was making this same point, albeit in a more cynical way. The
process of becoming a master counselor or master therapist takes experience, but it also
needs the catalyst of reflection that you must call on every day if you want to learn from
your experience.
THE CHALLENGE OF DEVELOPMENT

Although the major shifts in your thinking may follow some of the predictable stages of
development described by Perry or in the discussion of expertise, there are a number of
other challenges that arise. During the initial period of instruction, you will encounter
frustration and feelings of incompetence that accompany helping skills training, so much
so that many students feel like throwing in the towel. By thinking about these issues now,
you may be able to recognize them when they arise and you will deal with them more
effectively, or at least with less towel throwing.
Taking Responsibility for Your Own Learning

Helping skills training requires you to perform skills in front of other people in prac-
tice situations. To receive the maximum benefit from practice sessions, you must open
yourself up to feedback and suggestions. There is a strong tendency to compare oneself
with others and to view training as a competition. Although that may have been a good
strategy in some classes, it can be a detriment in learning helping skills because it may
keep you from volunteering to practice in class and receiving the feedback that will help
you grow. For example, you may appear to be ahead or behind your classmates as you
learn a particular skill in this book. If the class moves ahead, you may need to continue
to work on that skill by practicing with fellow students, watching videos of your perform-
ance, reading, or getting special help from the instructor. You must take responsibility for
educating yourself and request the training that you need, rather than seeing the process
of learning as a “mug and jug” phenomenon, in which the teacher pours from the jug of
knowledge into the student’s mug. You must move from teacher-directed learning to self-
directed learning (Caffarella, 1993; Canipe & Brockett, 2003). In your training, this may
mean that you face embarrassment if you are honest about what you do not know or
cannot do. Although you may be able to keep it hidden for a little while, eventually you
will be alone with a client, and you will need these skills to really be effective.
Finding a Mentor
Earlier, we talked about the value of a master therapist for reflecting or supervision. But
learning from models is not restricted to only those in the highest altitudes. One of the
best ways to learn the helping skills is to watch effective models and to receive feedback
from teachers even if they are only a few steps beyond you. It is a challenge, however,
to find experienced helpers who have the time to act as mentors. Once I watched one
of my own teachers in a session with a client. I remember saying to myself, “He acts like
being with that person is the most important thing in the world.” Although I had read
about “eye contact,” “empathy,” and “unconditional positive regard,” when I saw the
quality of his presence, I grasped, for the first time, how powerful such attention can be.
How few are the times when someone really stops to listen wholly and solely. Teachers
and supervisors are vital guides throughout the journey, especially in the beginning, and
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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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Learning the Art of Helping: Building

Blocks and Techniques (The Merrill

scenarios, and provides:

of Tennessee at Knoxville; Sue Stickel, Eastern Michigan University; Barbara Thompson,

Chapter 1 Helping as a Personal Journey 1

Chapter 1 HELPING AS A PERSONAL JOURNEY 1

Chapter 2 THE NUTS AND BOLTS OF HELPING 27

Chapter 3 THE THERAPEUTIC RELATIONSHIP 51

Therapeutic Faux Pas 66

Chapter 4 INVITATIONAL SKILLS 79

Chapter 5 REFLECTING SKILLS: PARAPHRASING 103

The Skill of Paraphrasing: Reflecting Content

Chapter 6 REFLECTING SKILLS: REFLECTING FEELINGS 119

Chapter 7 REFLECTING SKILLS: REFLECTING MEANING

Chapter 8 CHALLENGING SKILLS 164

Chapter 9 ASSESSMENT AND THE INITIAL INTERVIEW 189

Chapter 10 GOAL-SETTING SKILLS 221

Chapter 11 CHANGE TECHNIQUES 243

Chapter 12 OUTCOME EVALUATION AND TERMINATION SKILLS 260

Dealing with Loss at Termination 271

Chapter 13 THERAPEUTIC FACTORS AND ADVANCED CHANGE TECHNIQUES:

Practicing New Behaviors 291

Chapter 14 THERAPEUTIC FACTORS AND ADVANCED CHANGE

Techniques, Fifth Edition to enhance your understanding of chapter concepts. You’ll

The Demands of the Journey How a Helper Develops: Perry’s

• Finding the Perfect Technique • Other Research on Effective Helping

THE DEMANDS OF THE JOURNEY

BECOMING A REFLECTIVE PRACTITIONER

Using Reflection to Help You Overcome Challenging Helping

Using Reflection to Help Clients with Backgrounds Different

Using Reflection to Accommodate New Information about Yourself

BECOME A CLIENT Another way of building in a reflective component is entering a

Learning to Reflect Through Exercises in This Book

STOP AND REFLECT

HOW A HELPER DEVELOPS: PERRY’S STAGES

Beginning a new course of study can be simultaneously exciting, overwhelming, and

The Dualistic or “Right/Wrong” Stage

The Multiplistic Stage

The Relativistic Stage

THE DEVELOPMENT OF EXPERTISE

Implications of the Concept of Expertise for Training Helpers

Naivette One who knows nothing about the practice of counseling or

THE CHALLENGE OF DEVELOPMENT

Taking Responsibility for Your Own Learning

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

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

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