FOOTNOTES:
[5] Should the reader be inclined to consider my language to be somewhat theatrical, it must be remembered with whom I was dealing. I knew my man, and pointed my remarks accordingly.
CHAPTER VII.
RETURN TO M’THARA.
An ivory “shauri”—Death of Sadi ben Heri and his companions—Purchasing ivory—El Hakim and I return to M’thara—A night in the open—George ill—The Wa’M’thara at their old tricks—Return of the Somalis from Chanjai—They refuse to return to Embe—I interview an elephant.
In the afternoon Bei-Munithu paid us a visit in order to hear our version of what had happened at G’nainu. He listened attentively to our recital without making any comment. When we had concluded he informed us that he also had sent spies back to G’nainu, as, in addition to our five men, eleven of his own who had accompanied them were missing.
We learnt further that the natives of a village about two hours’ march distant wished to sell us a tusk of ivory. We heartened considerably at that, and asked Bei-Munithu to bring the owner along to talk it over. He thereupon withdrew, presently returning with a very aged and decrepit man, who tottered forward by the aid of a staff, whom he introduced to us as the owner of the tusk. We politely begged the venerable gentleman to seat himself, and waited till it pleased him to open negotiations. In a few moments he had collected enough energy to speak, and producing a reed some six feet long, indicated that that was the measurement of the tusk.
“Very well,” we said. “It seems a good tusk. How much do you want for it?”
After a little thought he remarked that one cow and three sheep would be considered a very fair return.
“All right,” said we; “if the tusk is all it is represented to be, we will give even the price asked, in order to save the trouble of a long ‘shauri.’ But first let us see the tusk.”
He assented to this, and in a little while rose and retired, presumably to bring the tusk. For over two hours we waited expectantly, but he did not return, and we were just thinking of sending over to Bei-Munithu for an explanation when that gentleman himself appeared, leading forward a native still more ancient than our former visitor. This latter individual slowly seated himself in front of our tent and solemnly chewed a twig which he drew from a bundle of similar ones carried in his belt.[6] The ancient gentleman munched away for some minutes, and finally condescended to speak. He announced, between chews, that he owned a tusk of ivory which he wished to sell us. We, metaphorically, hugged ourselves. Two tusks in one afternoon! But we received a rude shock when the interpreter informed us that the old gentleman was referring to the same tusk.
“Why,” we explained, “the owner has already called upon us, and we have completed the bargain.”
“Oh no,” said the old savage, “that was a young man sent to bargain with you” (practically testing the market). “I am the owner.”
“Very well,” said we. “We don’t care whom it belongs to so long as it is sold to us; and the sooner the better.”
“But,” said the old savage, “I want a cow and four sheep!”
We grew heated, and told him to go to Heligoland, or words to that effect; but he refused to depart thither.
“The other man,” he said, “like all young men, was very rash, and exceeded his instructions. I myself could not think of letting such a beautiful tusk go for less than one cow, a good cow, and four sheep.”
We remained firm, however, and he finally agreed to let us have the tusk at the original price. He then retired, while we wiped our perspiring foreheads and took a nice long drink of brackish water.
At that moment a messenger arrived from M’thara with a note to me from George, asking me to return as soon as possible, he being very ill with fever. El Hakim had intended returning on the morrow, since we were still waiting for news from G’nainu of our missing men, though we had lost all hope of their being still alive.
Next morning, therefore, we rose early, and sent a messenger over to the people who had the tusk, inquiring why they had not sent it over the day before as they had promised. The messenger returned saying that they were close behind him bringing the ivory. We waited with what little patience we could muster till nearly midday, when a deputation of elders turned up leading a withered, tottering skeleton, which on closer inspection proved to be an extremely ancient native. He looked more like a fossil than a human being, but, as we found, he still possessed, in a high degree, the native cunning and keenness in a bargain. The deputation carefully seated the fossil before us, and, grouping themselves respectfully round it, relapsed into a dead silence, only interrupted by the clicking of their jaws as they chewed their everlasting twigs. The fossil moved, woke up, and for some time gazed at us out of its bleared eyes, expectorating thoughtfully at intervals, while we in turn looked at it with some interest. After we had satisfied our mutual curiosity we spoke to the fossil, politely inquiring its errand. It gazed at us once more, expectorated, coughed, and announced that it was the owner of the much-disputed tusk, and had come to arrange the purchase price!
“What!” we cried, “is this tusk owned by a syndicate? We have already had two ‘shauries,’ and wasted two days over it. Who is the owner, anyhow?”
The deputation assured us, with the utmost simplicity that this was the real owner; the other two were only friends. We resigned ourselves to the inevitable, and prepared to engineer yet another bargain.
The fossil again condescended to speak, and declared that the precious tusk should not go out of his possession except in exchange for one very good cow, and three female sheep with lambs! We refused to entertain any such advance on the original price, and the matter was discussed with considerable animation and some heat for an hour or more. At the end of that time, when our patience was almost at vanishing-point, we agreed on a compromise. We argued that we had not yet seen the tusk, and consequently did not know if it was really as good as it was represented to be. We would therefore send a man over to their village, and on his return with a favourable report would give the price last demanded. On the contrary, if it were not such a good tusk as we had been led to believe, we would only give the original price asked. This plan they eventually agreed to. Resarse ben Shokar was ordered to accompany them to their village and report on the ivory.
The deputation then rose and withdrew, taking the fossil with them. We retired to our tent, but had not been seated more than a few moments when the sound of excited exclamations from the men caused us, ever on alert for news of our missing men, to spring to our feet. We rushed outside and saw an excited, heaving group of our men volubly discussing some object in their midst. I shouted an order, and the group separated and led towards our tent a man apparently in the last stage of exhaustion. Commanding silence, we called Ramathani to interpret. The man straightened himself, and we were horrified to observe a great gaping wound in his right arm, that looked like a sword-cut, which had been roughly stitched up with fibre. He announced amid breathless silence that he was the sole survivor of our five Swahilis and the eight native allies who had accompanied them. Our men groaned and wept at the news, but we again commanded silence, and bit by bit, by dint of careful questioning, we extracted the whole wretched story.
“Your four Zanzibaris,” said the native, “Sadi, Hamiz, Abdullah, and Marazuki, and one M’kamba, with eight of we Munithu people, slipped away from Wa’sungu so that we might collect cattle and sheep. We went very far and got many cattle. Presently we crossed the border of G’nainu into Nimbere, and there Sadi ben Heri, who commanded, seized many cattle and sheep from the Wa’Nimbere, who at once attacked us; but your men drove them away with their guns. We could not turn back, as the Wa’G’nainu were behind us, and Sadi ben Heri said, ‘Let us go on through this country, and so come to Munithu, where we shall be safe.’ We therefore crossed Nimbere, being many times attacked by the ‘Washenzi’ (savages) on the way, but the Zanzibaris always drove them off with their guns; but afterwards they had not many cartridges left.
“We then got into N’dakura, where there are many people, and there Sadi ben Heri said, ‘Let us take even more cattle and sheep from these people.’ So we took many cattle and sheep from the Wa’N’dakura, who then attacked us very fiercely; but your men again drove away the Washenzi with their guns. But their cartridges were very nearly finished, while the paths were narrow and the bush very thick. The Wa’G’nainu and Wa’Nimbere were behind us, and the Wa’N’dakura were in front. They came so close that we had to leave all the cattle and sheep that we had taken, so that we might try to save our lives. The enemy came closer and closer to us in the plantations and the bush, and then your men fired their last cartridge. Soon after that Abdullah was speared in the stomach, then Sadi was killed with spears, while the M’kamba was killed with a sword, and Marazuki and Hamiz were also killed with spears. There were very many of the ‘Washenzi.’ I was cut on my arm with a sword, and I ran away and hid in the forest. The other seven Munithu men were killed while trying to run away. Some were killed with spears and others with swords, and some with arrows. I waited till it was night, and then I came here.”
Such was the story of the missing man, and a ghastly business it was. It was entirely due to the disobedience of Sadi and his companions, and also to their stupidity in not confining their operations to the people with whom we were fighting. As it was, they had now given offence to two powerful tribes who had hitherto been friendly to us. In addition, four of our rifles were in the hands of the enemy, which might well be a source of bitter trouble to us in the future; as, indeed, it turned out.
At the conclusion of the narrative we sent the wounded man away, with orders that his wants should be attended to, and talked the matter over. It was then dusk, and much too late to think of starting for M’thara.
A few moments later Resarse arrived in camp from the village where the ivory was, and delivered his report. He informed us that it was a fair-sized tusk, and would weigh perhaps 50 lbs. An hour later the fossil and his friends turned up, and after a mild discussion we agreed to pay the price demanded, viz. a cow and three ewes with lambs—on the condition that they were to let us have the tusk very early on the following morning, as we explained that we were greatly desirous of starting early for M’thara; I, for one, being a little anxious about George.
Therefore at sunrise next morning we despatched Resarse to the fossil’s village with a cow, together with a message to the effect that he (Resarse) was to bring back the tusk with him, accompanied by one or two of their men, to whom we would hand over the balance of the purchase price due to them, i.e. the three ewes and their lambs.
Partaking of an early breakfast, we next packed up the tent and the numerous loads belonging to El Hakim which had been in Bei-Munithu’s charge, though we had to leave some of them behind. There were about fifteen loads of various beads, a 300-yard Alpine rope, ten or a dozen loads of mardūf (English drill), about six loads of iron, copper, and brass wire, some “bendera” (red cloth) and “kiniki” (blue cloth), and also some loads of camp equipment, medicines, and ammunition; which, together with some signal-rockets and gamekeepers’ flares, totalled up to some forty odd loads. The donkeys gave some trouble at first, as they were very fresh, and strongly objected to being loaded again after twelve days’ idleness. Finally, somewhere about ten o’clock we were ready for our long-delayed return to M’thara.
All this time there were no signs of Resarse or the ivory. Half an hour after we had finished packing he was descried approaching the camp, but was still driving the cow; there were no signs of the tusk. Our disgust and annoyance can be imagined when we heard that the fossil had hidden the tusk and run away! Bei-Munithu was peremptorily summoned, and we angrily demanded the reason of this treatment, expressing our displeasure in sufficiently severe terms. Bei-Munithu, much disturbed, departed to find out.
We simmered for another two hours till his return. From his account it appeared that there were two tusks, and the owner, seeing Resarse approaching with only one cow, thought we intended to cheat him, and incontinently fled. Bei-Munithu, however, had now persuaded him that we were honest, and he was now on his way to camp with the two tusks. Again we sat down and waited, with as much patience as we could command under the circumstances.
We unloaded the donkeys, and tried to rake out something eatable, but failed, as there was nothing cooked. At two o’clock in the afternoon we were still waiting. At that hour one of Bei-Munithu’s men came into camp with the information that the fossil and his friends had run away again, taking the two tusks with them. El Hakim exploded at this aggravating news. He sent for Bei-Munithu once more, and fairly made the old reprobate shake with fear, though, as far as we knew, it was no fault of his.
“Go at once,” cried El Hakim, “and tell these people that I have waited two days on their account. I will wait no longer. If they do not bring that ivory within two hours, I will come and burn their villages and destroy their plantations to the last muhindi stalk.”
Bei-Munithu became greatly agitated, and implored El Hakim to have a little patience while he himself went to see the fossil and his friends, in order that he might try to convince them of the error of their ways.
He returned late in the afternoon, accompanied by the fossil and the other two ancients, with whom we had bargained, bringing with them the two tusks. We gave them a piece of our minds and the price agreed upon, and allowed them as a special favour to pick their three ewes, a proceeding which occupied the greater part of another hour.
The tusks were only medium specimens, weighing 90 lbs. the pair. We thanked Bei-Munithu for his efforts on our behalf, although we had more than a shrewd suspicion that he had caused the whole delay from first to last, though for what purpose we could not be very certain.
It was very late in the day when we eventually started for Mathara, and there seemed very little hope of reaching it that night, though we determined to try, notwithstanding our many loads and our miscellaneous collection of cattle, sheep, goats, and loaded donkeys, all of which seemed to have contracted a malignant type of perverseness, inasmuch as they would not keep to the path, needing constant care and watchfulness and frequent halts in order to recover stragglers. Fortunately, Dirito and one of his tribesmen volunteered to accompany us and “chunga” (drive) the animals, an offer which we gladly accepted.
We made fair progress until we reached the strip of forest described in the account of our first march to Karanjui, on the borders of which we arrived just before dusk. We were joined there by Viseli, one of the head-men of Chanjai, and one of his people, who proceeded to assist Dirito in driving the animals. In this manner we reached Karanjui, and El Hakim proposed that we should camp there. I was averse to such a plan, however, remembering George’s note, so we pushed on.
Traversing the further belt of forest, we crawled out into the open plain which stretches away to Mathara. The sun had already set, and the wind became bitterly cold. The porters were tired and beginning to straggle, but as there was no water nearer than a stream an hour’s march on the hither side of our own camp, we had no choice but to proceed in spite of the darkness. On we went, Dirito and Viseli with the tired animals keeping close to us, while the porters were strung out in an irregular line in the rear. It grew pitch dark, and a cold wind, increasing in violence, nearly froze us.
Hour after hour we pursued our hopeless way in the blackness of the night, until somewhere about 8 p.m., when we reached the small stream. It was useless going any further, so we camped. We called for the tent to be pitched and firewood brought, but to our surprise met with no response. We could not understand it. We called again, but beyond Dirito and Viseli and their two henchmen with the animals, there were not more than three or four men with us, and they were carrying loads of cloth. The others were scattered somewhere in the darkness along the path by which we had come. We were in a nice predicament, our small party being perched on a bare, bleak hillside, exposed to the full fury of the icy blast without a tent, a blanket, or a thing to eat, though nothing had passed our lips since our hasty meal at daylight that morning. However, there was nothing to do but to make the best of it, so we ordered a large fire to be made, to try to mitigate in some degree the freezing horror of the icy gale. Another disappointment awaited us; there was absolutely no firewood to be had. Our few men searched diligently for an hour, and brought back two or three handfuls of brushwood, which by dint of a wasteful expenditure of matches, coupled with no small amount of profanity, were transformed into a puny apology for a fire.
Presently, to our great joy, we heard shouts from the other side of the stream, and soon we had the satisfaction of beholding a small body of our porters approaching. We eagerly examined their loads, but alas! they consisted, of course, of brass and iron wire, and, by the irony of fate, one load of cooking and table utensils.
El Hakim and I resigned ourselves to a night of discomfort, and crouched down over the miserable spark we dignified by the name of a fire. An hour later a solitary porter struggled into our midst, and, lo and behold, he carried the fly-sheet of the tent. We hastily uncorded it, and found the tent-pegs rolled up inside; these were at once sacrificed for firewood, and we soon had a moderate blaze going. Then Ramathani discovered some pieces of raw meat among the cooking utensils, the remains of a sheep we had killed two days before. We very soon had them out, and cutting them into chunks, toasted them in the frying-pan, which formed a nourishing though somewhat indiarubber-like meal. El Hakim then spread the canvas fly-sheet out on the ground, and we both crept under it and tried to forget our discomfort in sleep.
The gale blew with great violence all night, blowing our protecting fly-sheet up at the corners, and sending an icy draught up our trouser-legs in a most disagreeable manner; so that, altogether, we were unfeignedly thankful when the first grey streaks that heralded the dawn appeared in the eastern heavens.
We arose and stretched our stiff and frozen limbs, and calling up the few men who, huddled to the leeward of the animals, resembled so many corpses under their scanty linen cloths, we started for our camp at Mathara, which, having struck the right path, we reached in an hour.
George had not yet risen, but, hearing our arrival, wrapped himself in a blanket and came out of his tent. I was very disagreeably surprised at his appearance. He was quite yellow and very thin and haggard, the effect of a severe attack of fever, which, coupled with anxiety on our account and differences with the Wa’Mathara in camp, had given him a very bad time indeed. He looked more like a ghost than a living being, but “all’s well that ends well,” and our arrival safe and sound contributed in no small degree to his speedy recovery. The Wa’Mathara, it appeared, had again been up to their old trick of surrounding the camp with armed men, and on one occasion they had actually attacked some of our camp followers while on their way to the stream for water. In fact, George was compelled to get up from his bed, where he lay racked with fever, and, seizing his rifle, sally forth accompanied by four or five men in order to drive off the enemy, who, however, fled at his approach without further hostilities.
We now commenced preparations for our move northward to the Waso Nyiro River, selecting what trade goods and cattle we should require, intending to leave the balance with N’Dominuki. Food had also to be bought and packed into loads, as, after leaving Mathara, there were no other cultivated districts in the direction we intended to travel, and we should have to depend for sustenance entirely upon the food we were able to carry with us, and on any game we might be able to shoot. An inventory of the contents of our food-boxes showed that there was no reserve salt, and beyond an ounce or two in use, there was absolutely none in the safari. I mentioned the disconcerting fact to El Hakim, but he consoled me with the assurance that we should certainly be able to obtain salt at a crater, marked N’gomba on the map, a little to the south of the Waso Nyiro and due north of the Jombeni Mountains. Our supply of English flour was also finished, and we were then living on the native M’wele and Metama.
In the afternoon I took a rifle, and, leaving camp, struck in a northerly direction in search of game. Crossing the thorn forest, I came out on to a gravelly highland, covered with thorn scrub, and here and there isolated Morio trees. Underfoot a few small aloes with red flowers grew in the patches of earth between the blocks of white quartz plentifully bestrewn everywhere.
The Morio (Acocanthera Schimperi) is a curious-looking tree with its bare stem, averaging about six feet in height, formed of several thin stems twisted round each other after the manner of a vine. Surmounting the bare stem is a spherical crown of leaves, giving it the appearance of those little toy trees supplied to children in Noah’s arks. It has a small leaf and small pink-and-white flowers, which have a delightful scent. The A’kikuyu and Wa’Ndorobo use the distilled sap of the roots for poisoning their arrows. It is also used by the Somalis for that purpose combined with the sap of another variety of the same species (Acocanthera Ouabaio) which grows in the Arl mountains of northern Somaliland. The resultant poison is the celebrated “Wabaio” of the Somalis. No other plant or tree will grow near the Morio, consequently they are met with only in little groups or as isolated specimens.
About two miles from camp I reached a small stony hill. On the summit I discovered a small rudely constructed fort, built of flat stones, containing small huts of stone roofed with brushwood. It faced to the north, and I afterwards found that it was used by the A’kikuyu as a watch-tower when expecting a Rendili raid. From the top of this fort I obtained a good view of the surrounding country. To the north the ground sloped away in a long incline to the Waso Nyiro, the bed of which lies more than a thousand feet lower than M’thara at the point in its course due north at that place. Beyond the Guaso Nyiro showed dimly the shadowy outlines of Mounts Lololokwe and Wargasse, 7750 feet and 10,830 feet in height respectively. Further away to the north and east lay the desolate sandy wastes of Samburu or Galla-land.
To the north-east beyond the Doenyo lol Deika (a hog-backed ridge 6200 feet above sea-level) the great plateau of Lykipia stretched as far as the highlands of Kamasia and Elgeyo. At the foot of the Kamasia highlands lies Lake Baringo, distant a hundred and twenty miles, the southern end of which is inhabited by the Wakwafi of Nyemps. Fifteen miles south of Baringo is Lake Hannington, discovered by, and named after, the late Bishop Hannington, who was murdered by the natives of Usoga in 1885. The water of this lake is lukewarm, and, being impregnated with mineral salts, is very bitter. The Lykipia Plateau is terminated on the north by the Loroghi Mountains, and on its eastern side by the Elgeyo escarpment, which, together with its southern continuation, the Mau escarpment, forms part of the eastern wall of the great “fault” in the earth’s crust which extends from the sea of Galilee, over 33° north of the Equator, down the valley of the Jordan, thence down the Red Sea, and southward through North-Eastern Africa to Lake Tanganyika, 10° south of the line, and which is known to geographers as the Great Rift Valley.
South-west of my point of vantage rose the lofty peak of Kenia, veiled as usual by its curtain of cloud. To the south-east, and on the eastern side of Kenia, lay the route we had just traversed, extending through M’thara, Munithu, Zura, Moravi, Igani, Wuimbe, Zuka, and M’bu back to Maranga on the Tana River. The first stage of our journey was safely accomplished. Who could tell what Fate had in store for us in the unknown regions to the northward?
On the way out I met with no game, but on my return I saw two or three impala antelopes, at which I could not get a shot, chiefly owing to the noise I unavoidably made in approaching them over loose pebbles and quartz blocks. I returned to camp unsuccessful in consequence.
We learnt from George that during our absence at Munithu one of the donkeys had fallen sick and died. When El Hakim asked where the carcase was, George told us that our Wakamba porters had eaten it. They did not ask for permission to do so, possibly because they feared the ridicule of the “M’sungu,” but the same night, when all was still in camp, they sneaked out one by one, and, cutting up the carcase, brought it into camp and cooked and devoured it during the night. It became a standing joke against them with the rest of the safari, who at once nicknamed them “Fisis” (hyenas) for the remainder of the trip. When any of the Swahili porters felt particularly jocular, they would sing out, “Nani amakula punda?” (Who ate the donkey?) which earnest inquiry would be immediately answered by a ringing shout from the rest of the Swahilis, “Wakamba fisi” (the Wakamba hyenas), followed by a shout of laughter, accompanied by cat-calls. The Wakamba themselves would smile a contented, cheerful smile, and think lovingly of the magnificent gorge they had enjoyed, and, I believe, rather pitied the Swahilis for their fastidious prejudices.
The morning after our arrival from Munithu, the Somalis returned from their sojourn in Chanjai, where they had been purchasing food. They intended to start from the Waso Nyiro on the following day, and, as we had expected, absolutely refused to entertain the idea of another expedition into Embe. I concluded a little “deal” with Ismail during the morning, exchanging twenty cartridges for a little coarse salt.
Just before noon I went out alone with the 20-bore shot-gun, with the intention of shooting guinea-fowl for the pot. I wore rubber shoes, and in jumping a stream, strained my instep badly. The pain was severe, but I tried to walk it off. I got into the thick forest between our camp and M’thara, but saw no birds. Noiselessly threading my way along a narrow game-track, while on the look-out for partridges, I suddenly saw a large brown mass looming through the openings of the foliage. Only small patches of it were now and again visible, and, as I had not the least idea what it was, I cautiously crept closer in order to get a better view. It was quite stationary, and at first I thought it was a large hut, though what it was doing there I could not imagine. I cautiously approached to within ten yards, and then halted and watched. Suddenly the mass moved, a low rumbling noise was heard, and then an enormous head swung into my field of vision, flanked by vast outspread ears and a pair of magnificent tusks. There I stood gazing straight into the face of the largest bull elephant I had ever seen, with only a 20-bore shot-gun and No. 6 shot with me! After a few seconds’ suspense I regained the use of my scattered faculties, and it immediately occurred to me that this particular part of the forest was not a good place for guinea-fowl, and at once decided to look somewhere else. I am modest by nature, and deprecate ostentation; therefore I made as little noise as possible on my backward journey—at least till I was quite a quarter of a mile from the elephant. I did not wish to alarm him. I took the bearings of the place, and limped back to camp for a rifle. El Hakim immediately went back with me, but we could not find the elephant. He had evidently winded me on my first visit, and retreated into the deeper recesses of the thorn forest.
On my return to Cairo, I happened to mention this encounter with the elephant to an American friend of mine. He listened with a twinkle in his eye, and remarked, “Why, if that isn’t strange! Do you know, ’most the same thing happened to me last Fall; when I was huntin’ in the Rockies with my brother. We had gone out pretty early one morning to try and shoot a few by-ids. After a smart tramp along the river-bank, through a lot of bushes, we were pulled up with a jerk, as, on coming round a tree, we spotted an old grizzly b’ar reared up on his hind legs, feedin’ on something in the bushes. As we were only loaded for by-ids, we drew back and watched him. Pretty soon ‘old grizzly’ turned around and looked us straight in the face. My brother thought it must be nearly breakfast-time, so we started for our camp on the run! As we dodged among the bush we could hear the pit-pat of the grizzly’s feet in our rear, and I tell you we ran good and hard. Presently the sound of pursuing footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and, taking a quick look round, durned if ‘old grizzly’ wasn’t runnin’ hard’s he could the other way! What?”