FOOTNOTES:
[8] Professor J. W. Gregory, D.Sc. Lond., “The Great Rift Valley,” pp. 322 and 325 (1896).
[9] W. C. Harris, “Particulars concerning the Great River Gochol and the Countries adjacent thereto from Native Information collected in the Kingdom of ‘Shoa.’” Trans. Bombay Geog. Soc., vol. vi. (1844), pp. 63, 64.
[10] Leon des Avanchers, “Esquisse Geographique des pays Oromo ou Galla.” Bull. Soc. Geog. Paris, ser. 4 (1859), map and p. 164.
[11] J. L. Krapff, “Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours, etc., in Eastern Africa” (1860), pp. 43-45.
[12] P. Rigby, “Remarks on the North-East Coast of Africa, and the Various Tribes by which it is Inhabited.” Trans. Bombay Geog. Soc., vol. ii. (1844), p. 80.
CHAPTER XI.
DOWN THE WASO NYIRO ONCE MORE.
We send to M’thara for guides—Sport at the “Green Camp”—Non-return of the men sent to M’thara—Our anxiety—Their safe return with guides—We continue our march down the river—Desertion of the guides—We push on—Bad country—No game—We meet some of the Somalis’ men—News of the Rendili—Loss of our camels—In sight of the “promised land.”
Early on the morning following our arrival at the “Green Camp” we despatched three men to M’thara with a message to N’Dominuki, asking him to send us a couple of Wandorobbo guides from Embe, as we wished to go across country to Lololokwe, and, if we deemed it necessary, further north to Mount Nyiro, at the south end of Lake Rudolph. The rest of the men went back to the two dead rhinoceros to obtain a supply of meat. George went out during the day and shot three grantei. In the afternoon El Hakim also went out shooting. He took the ·450 Express, as he intended shooting grantei only. He secured four. On his way back to camp he was annoyed by a rhinoceros which had the temerity to stalk him, so waiting for his pursuer he neatly planted a bullet in the creature’s brain, at a distance of about ten yards. I have read that the skull of a rhinoceros is invulnerable, especially from the front, but on examining El Hakim’s beast, I noted that it had been shot from the front, the bullet entering the temple and penetrating the skull at precisely the proper angle, reaching the brain. There was no blood, the bullet-hole being so clean-cut that the skin closed over the wound in such a manner as to make it difficult to discover where it had been hit. It was as neat and workman-like a job as I have ever seen.
We stayed at the “Green Camp” for some days, occasionally shooting game to supply the larder, cleaning our weapons, mending our clothes and boots, and otherwise occupying our time to good purpose. A zebra which I shot supplied us with hide, and we repaired our travel-torn boots by the simple process of stitching a piece of raw hide over them with a surgical needle and thread, and then hanging the boots out in the air. The hide shrank on as it dried, and formed a fairly well-fitting though clumsy covering; but it was only a temporary arrangement at best, and required constant renewing, as over rough, stony ground the hide would wear through in three marches.
On the plains to the eastward of the camp roamed vast herds of game—zebra, oryx, water-buck, and grantei. Rhinos were disgustingly frequent, El Hakim shooting two more that had evinced an impertinent curiosity regarding his movements, when he was taking a walk abroad one afternoon. The rhinoceros were all of the black or prehensile-lipped variety of the Rhinoceros bicornis, and we found that they had, on the average, much smaller horns than other specimens of the same family south of Kenia.
We all kept in splendid health, George and I in particular being burnt almost black by the fierce sun; and we felt that we should be content to remain where we were for an indefinite period. Game was more than plentiful, the climate was glorious, and we were free as the pure air we breathed. Only those who have been placed in similar circumstances can appreciate the full value of that word “free.” We did precisely what seemed good to us in our own eyes. We rose early, bathed in the warm spring, ate our breakfast, and then went shooting, or, if disinclined for that, we sat in a folding-chair in the shade of the trees and read, or mended our clothes, ever and anon raising our eyes to watch the herds of game walking steadily past our camp on their way down to the river to drink. In time we got to know the various herds, and even to recognize individual members of the same herd. The different herds also had their regular times for drinking, which never varied by more than a few minutes. The water-buck were the earliest; they came down just after sunrise. At ten o’clock precisely the graceful grantei would come down in herds, scouted by the young bucks. They were followed at midday by the oryx; and at four in the afternoon the zebra arrived in their turn. The rhinoceros, on the contrary, went down at all times, whenever they felt inclined, though they usually drink at night.
It was a perfectly Arcadian existence, which we left with very real regret when the exigences of travel compelled us once more to resume our weary march over the sun-scorched desert country down-river.
During our stay my shot-gun was not idle. In the evenings there were numerous doves in the vicinity, which made a welcome change in our menu; and now and again I secured a few grouse. Hares, too, were always obtainable with a little trouble. One night, about eleven o’clock, we were called out of bed by the sentry, who put his head into our tent, and in an awestruck whisper ejaculated, “Kuja kutasamo m’bogo, Bwana” (Come and see the buffalo, master). We went outside, where we were joined by El Hakim, who had also been called. It was a brilliant moonlight night, and the country was almost as clearly visible as in the daytime. On the bank of our little stream, just opposite the camp, a mighty herd of buffalo was marching along, utterly unconscious of our proximity. They showed up wonderfully distinct in the brilliant moonlight, as they stalked majestically past. A passing cloud covered the face of the moon, and the weird sense of power and grandeur was further heightened by the temporary obscurity, as the now dim and ghost-like procession moved past. We gazed at them with a feeling that was half exultation and half awe, as we reflected that to us had been vouchsafed a sight at once so impressive and now, alas! so rare.[13]
As on the fifth day after the despatch of the men to M’thara there were still no signs of them, we began to grow anxious, and sent Jumbi and another man back to investigate, with orders to return in three days at the utmost. Our provisions were also growing short, as we had finished all our sugar; the mustard also had given out. Two days later, as neither Jumbi nor the three men first sent to M’thara had put in an appearance, we made arrangements to pay a flying visit to M’thara on the morrow, to find out what had become of them, as we were more than a little anxious about their safety. The next morning, therefore, the absentees having made no sign, we started for M’thara, leaving two or three men in charge of the camp. We took no tents or baggage—nothing but a blanket each and some food, together with a good supply of ammunition. After two hours on the road, to our great relief we met the laggards returning with two Wandorobbo guides. They explained that N’Dominuki had experienced some difficulty in procuring the guides, and they were consequently detained. We were too thankful that they had rejoined us in safety to critically examine their story, so we let it pass, and at once retraced our steps, arriving at the “Green Camp” at three o’clock in the afternoon.
The guides were typical specimens of the Wandorobbo hunter, and greatly resembled each other in appearance. They were both elderly gentlemen, with grey and grizzled hair. Though of medium height, their backs were bowed, partly by age and partly by the stooping, creeping posture they adopt when walking. They trod softly as cats, their heads thrust forward, nothing on the road escaping their observant gaze, though seemingly they were lost in abstraction. Each carried a small bow, a bundle of arrows, tipped with poison, and a walking-staff. A strip of goatskin, tied over the left shoulder, descending as far as the waist, a bead necklet, and an armlet or two completed a by no means superabundant costume. Their luggage consisted of a small skin bag, containing a knife, a couple of pieces of wood for making fire, and a few pieces of string; and in addition each carried four or five pounds of Kikuyu tobacco, wrapped up with banana leaves into spherical parcels.
From them we learnt that the Rendili were a long distance down the river—much farther down than we had been. This intelligence revived us somewhat, and next morning we set off once more on our journey down the river. The “cinder-heap” was once more crossed, but, thanks to the guides, by a much better road than the one by which we had made our toilsome march. The going was still bad enough, in all conscience, but in comparison to our first experience our progress seemed wonderfully easy. Besides, we knew the extent of the lava-belt now; before we did not know what was in front of us, and the uncertainty had contributed to no small extent to the magnifying of the horrors of our position.
We halted for breakfast on the other side of the lava-belt, and at 2 p.m. were preparing to resume the march, when Ramathani approached us in a very hesitating manner, evidently wishing to communicate something which he found unpleasant. Questioned as to what had happened, he blurted out, “Bwana, the guides have run away!” We were absolutely nonplussed. It is difficult at all times to fathom the motives that influence a savage; but whatever could have induced those guides to come three days’ journey to us, delaying us seven days meanwhile, only to run away again on the first march, we could not possibly guess, nor could we even faintly imagine.
We were now in a precisely similar position to that in which we had been placed a fortnight before, with the single exception that we now had certain information (for we saw no reason to doubt it) that the Rendili were down the river. After a consultation we decided to push on, guides or no guides, and trust to luck. We therefore resumed the march, and, after a long hot tramp, reached our old camp of July 31 and August 4, where we remained for the night. A peculiar incident, that I have never been able to understand, occurred on that day. Before we resumed the march, after the desertion of the guides, I went out of camp alone in search of game. The country was very rough, being intersected in every direction by steep “kloofs” and “dongas,” interspersed with gravelly mounds. Loose blocks of quartz were scattered everywhere, mingled with flakes of rock-crystal and smaller pieces of quartz of a greenish colour, due to the presence of epidote. Stunted and misshapen thorny acacias and a few aloes formed almost the only vegetation. I was laboriously climbing a gravelly slope, when suddenly there was a rush and a roar as of a mighty whirlwind bearing directly down upon me. I looked round in some alarm, as it is very unpleasant being caught in one of these dust-devils with nothing solid handy to hold on to. To my intense surprise I could see nothing whatever. Not a leaf or a branch stirred, and not a particle of dust or sand rose. The rushing, tearing sound increased in volume, and drew nearer and nearer, finally seeming in full blast not more than twenty feet from where I stood. But nothing stirred; the air was perfectly clear, and everything else remaining still as death. It was a most uncanny sensation. I abandoned the idea of a whirlwind, thinking perhaps there might be a blow-hole in the vicinity for escaping volcanic gases. I searched the neighbourhood carefully under that impression, but found nothing of the sort. Finally, the sound died away. Two or three times after that, during my walk, the same thing occurred. On one occasion I seemed to be standing in the very midst of the whirlwind. It rushed and roared round about me, and I involuntarily gripped a tree-trunk to steady myself against the expected shock. But nothing happened; nothing moved. I am not a nervous person, and my reason convinced me that there was a perfectly natural explanation for the phenomenon, but, nevertheless, I had a very nasty sensation in the small of my back. I was irritated, also, at being unable to discover the cause of the noise.
The next day we marched over the now familiar desert country to our old “Swamp Camp.” Remembering the midges, we did not stop there, but pushed on for another mile, and camped on the top of a cliff overlooking the river. Opposite us the cliffs of red gneiss rose to a height of over 300 feet. The face of the cliff was inhabited by thousands of monkeys and baboons, who chattered excitedly over our arrival, an excitement which was not allayed by a bullet I sent through a group of them, which flattened itself against the cliff wall with a sharp smack. They at once scattered to various places of safety behind the rocks, and from thence made rude remarks in monkey language.
We went out after lunch to make a short survey of the route ahead. The result was most discouraging; a more barren and desolate landscape I had never seen. Soft brown earth, into which we sank over our ankles, was strewn with volcanic débris in the shape of our old enemy the lava blocks. Vegetation was scarce, and game conspicuous by its absence. It seemed rather a hopeless task to attempt to cross such country without guides, but we determined to make a supreme effort.
We were now beginning to suffer a little for want of salt. I had a nasty sinking feeling in my stomach, with a tendency to vomiting, and I always felt empty inside, even immediately after a very full meat meal; but this wore off after a week or two. We were restricted to a few ounces of native meal (m’wele) per diem, which our chef de cuisine, the indispensable Ramathani, made into little flat cakes, fried with meat, which was the only other item on our menu.
For some days we ploughed over the rotten brown earth just described. It was a painful experience, as the sharp blocks of quartz and lava bruised our ill-shod feet. The sun was intensely hot, and distant objects danced and shimmered in the heat-haze.
On the morning of August the 15th we had camped for breakfast on the river-bank, when we were greatly excited by a sight of two sheep grazing peacefully further down the river. Our men immediately started in pursuit, and captured them after an exciting chase. They were of the fat-tailed variety, and were Rendili sheep beyond a doubt. All that afternoon was spent in searching the country round, but we saw no signs that led us to believe that the country was inhabited. El Hakim shot a rhinoceros while we were out. It was feeding in the open. He was carrying the ·577, and proceeded to stalk it, accompanied by George, who carried the ·450 Express. When within thirty yards of the rhino, El Hakim motioned to George to remain where he was; he himself crawled thirty yards to the left, so that hunters and hunted formed a triangle. El Hakim fired, and the rhino, on receiving the shot, charged straight down upon George. It was then that I had an opportunity of observing a wonderful exhibition of nerve and true sportsmanship on George’s part, begotten of the confidence we both placed in El Hakim’s skill. Holding his rifle at the ready, George awaited the wounded beast’s mad rush without a tremor, refraining from firing in order not to spoil El Hakim’s second barrel—a confidence which was fully justified by the result, as that individual’s left barrel spoke when the enraged rhinoceros was within a dozen yards of George, dropping it dead with a bullet through the heart. George afterwards declared that he could not have stood the strain much longer, and would have fired in a few seconds more. We had now sufficient meat for our immediate needs, and were still determined to push on, though the country seemed almost entirely devoid of game, and feeding ourselves and our men was getting to be quite a serious problem. A rhinoceros only lasted the men two days, as, in spite of its huge bulk, it cuts up very badly, there being a good deal of waste; and, in addition, the men, who even at ordinary times were tremendous meat-eaters, in the entire absence of cereals, developed a carnal appetite that can only be described as monumental.
Returning to the spot where we had lunched, we resumed the march, going another mile down the river before camping. When the tents were pitched, Ramathani busied himself in cooking our unpalatable meal of grantei-steak fried in an insufficiency of fat. Soon afterwards we heard an excited shriek of “Afreet! afreet!” (Devil, devil) from Ramathani and some of the other men near him. He rushed up to me and implored me to bring my “bunduki ya n’dege” (literally, “bird-gun”) and slay the “afreet.” I laughingly inquired where the “afreet” was, and he pointed upwards into the branches of a large tree, whose branches spread laterally over the fire at which he was cooking. I could not see anything, and was about to turn away, ridiculing him; but the men appeared so genuinely terror-stricken that I paused and looked up again. Judge of my surprise when I discovered that the “afreet” was nothing more than a large water-lizard stretched out on a branch. A dose of No. 6 shot on the side of the head brought it down with a thump on the ground. Examination showed that none of my shot had penetrated its skull or body, it being merely stunned by the shock. None of the men could be induced to touch it under any pretext whatever, saying that it was highly poisonous, and its bite meant instant death; so, seizing it by the tail, I carried it over to our table. It woke up while I was carrying it, and, squirming upwards, attempted to bite me, causing me to drop it hurriedly, to the intense amusement of the men. I killed and dissected it. Its heart beat for quite half an hour after I had removed it from the body. The reptile was four feet in length, and over a foot in girth.
The next morning we divided the men into small parties and sent them out to search the surrounding country for inhabitants, while I climbed a hill near the camp and minutely examined, with the binoculars, the whole country round; but in vain. There was no sign of any inhabitants; the country seeming to be deserted by man and beast alike, and lay under the scorching sun “the abomination of desolation.”
I returned to camp at midday, the search parties returning at the same time reporting that they had seen no signs of the Rendili nor indeed traces of anybody whatsoever. We therefore resumed our march down the river at half-past two in the afternoon. The vegetation had almost disappeared, with the exception that along the river-banks a few rows of thorn trees here and there indicated the position of lines of depression in the earth’s surface, probably the beds of sand rivers; the rest of the country was strewn with stony débris which converted a march into a painful and difficult pilgrimage.
At sundown we pitched the tents, but found that it was impossible to drive the pegs into the rocky ground, so the guy ropes had to be made fast to huge boulders collected and piled for the purpose. To add to our discomfort, a strong cold wind sprang up as the sun set, and blew great guns all night, the tents thrashing and thundering in a way that precluded sleep, and threatened every moment to blow bodily away. Firewood also was scarce, and the men spent a most miserable night in consequence. The two Rendili sheep, which we had been keeping for our own consumption, escaped during the night, and we never saw them again. We did not linger long in that inhospitable spot, but at sunrise again resumed our weary march down-stream.
Game was absolutely non-existent, and the men, having finished the last of the rhinoceros, were in great need of food. Where it was to be obtained we could not imagine, unless we were to kill one or two of our cattle, which we were very loth to do, except as a very last resource.
After a solid four hours’ march we camped on the river-bank under a clump of palms, and determined on the morrow to make one last effort to find the Rendili by means of search parties, and then, if there were still no signs of them, to make the best of our way back to the game country by forced marches.
The animals were sadly out of condition for want of proper and sufficient nourishment, and we were afraid that if we went further and were still unsuccessful in our search, they would all die before we could get back. “It is a long lane that has no turning,” however, and about four o’clock in the afternoon one of the men, whom we had sent out to look for game, came into camp, shouting excitedly that he had seen “many people.” El Hakim and George at once saddled up the mules and investigated. The “many people” turned out to be eighty of the Somalis’ men, bound for Dhaicho (a trading settlement on the eastern side of Embe) in order to buy food. Most important of all, they told us that Ismail, with the main body, was camped among the Rendili, who were five days’ march further down the river. This news cheered us up wonderfully. Resting our men for the remainder of the day, we were on our way again on the following morning long before daylight, led by a guide lent us by the Somalis. We pushed forward as fast as our men could travel, and we had every reason for haste, as they were entirely without food. We halted at ten o’clock in the forenoon for breakfast. At least we breakfasted, the men having nothing to eat at all, while we had little more. At two o’clock we were again on the road, and at four o’clock camped for the night, the men being exhausted. Jumbi, and Malwa, the head-man of the Wa’kamba, did not come in with the others. Inquiries elicited the fact that, owing to either Jumbi’s or Malwa’s carelessness, the five camels had strayed on the road and were lost. El Hakim was very much annoyed, as he had always been very proud of his camels, nursing them tenderly, and taking great pains to ensure their health and comfort.
The next morning the camels had not turned up, neither had Jumbi nor Malwa. El Hakim, being eager to reach the Rendili encampment, pushed on with nothing but his tent and a little food, leaving George and me behind with the bulk of the safari to send search parties out after the camels. At eleven o’clock Jumbi and Malwa came into camp without the camels. They were very frightened, rightly dreading El Hakim’s anger, and were considerably relieved when they found only George and me in camp. At that moment some of the men, whom we had despatched earlier in the morning in search of the missing animals, came in and reported that they had seen the tracks of the camels leading away to the south straight towards the hills, some days’ journey distant, which proved to be the extreme north-eastern end of the Jombeni range, inhabited by our bêtes noires the Wa’embe. I immediately despatched Jumbi and Malwa, together with the men who had seen the tracks, to follow them up, instructing them to find the camels if possible, but if not, to return and follow me, as I was going on after El Hakim. After they had rested awhile they departed on their errand, and at two o’clock in the afternoon, George and I, having forded the river—which was quite easily done, as it was very broad and came no higher than one’s middle—marched steadily and rapidly down the north bank of the river in El Hakim’s wake. We marched for four hours, passing the falls discovered by and named after Mr. Chanler, an hour after starting. The vegetation was now somewhat more dense, the wait-a-bit thorn becoming quite inconveniently frequent; the country also tended to become gravelly underfoot, and the very reverse of level.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at a range of rocky hills some three or four hundred feet in height, which extended for some miles at right angles to the river, and consequently right across our path. So far we had seen no signs of El Hakim, so I decided to push on at all costs, and with great difficulty we climbed to the summit of the range.
When we reached the top a beautiful and welcome sight met our weary eyes. Away to the right, curving round the end of the range, ran the dark green line of the Waso Nyiro. A day’s march further on it branched out into numerous broad shallow channels, spreading over a tract of country perhaps ten miles long and four miles wide. Innumerable Doum palms covered this tract with a beautiful mass of greenery, interspersed with patches of pure white sand. Immediately outside the palm region the country changed sharply to desert again, which stretched dazzlingly white and perfectly level to the encircling horizon. I had no doubt but that we should find the Rendili encamped near the palms. The river emerged from the other side of this fertile tract, and winding round the southern spur of a vast and lofty tableland, which showed dimly in the distance, disappeared from view on its way to the mysterious and unexplored “Lorian.” The plateau I recognized as the Marisi el Lugwazambo. It can be imagined with what joyful emotions we gazed on the mass of vivid green spread at our feet, after so many scorching days of brown earth and bare rock. I could quite realize the sensations of Moses as he gazed on the “Promised Land” from the summit of Mount Pisgah.
It was almost time, too, that we reached our long-desired goal. Our men had not enjoyed a full meal since El Hakim shot the rhinoceros four days before, and they were almost famished. We ourselves were little better off, having tasted nothing for two days but a few miserable M’wele cakes, no larger than a five-shilling piece. We could not stop on the summit of the hill for an indefinite period, however, much as we admired the view—our needs were too imperative; so with a last long look at the beautiful scene, we turned and cast about for a path by which to descend to the plain below. To our dismay, we discovered that the cliff dropped sheer down for two hundred feet without foothold enough for a goat. After trying two or three places without success, we were eventually compelled to force our way along the crest of the ridge, in the hope of finding some sort of path nearer the river. It was a terrible scramble, and I should think it very unlikely that even natives had ever been on to the top before—certainly no white man ever had. The wait-a-bit thorns grew together in an almost impenetrable wall, necessitating constant work with our knives to free ourselves. Great boulders barred our progress, and gravel and pebbles slipped under our feet, so that by the time we had covered a mile we were tired out.
PALMS ON THE WASO NYIRO.
Just before sunset George spotted a possibly likely place for the descent. It certainly looked desperate enough, but by this time we were beyond counting the risks. We scrambled down, therefore, leaping from boulder to boulder, and every few moments having to stop in order to cut ourselves free with our knives from the clinging embrace of the ubiquitous “wait-a-bit.” Our clothes and skin suffered terribly, but we were determined to reach the bottom somehow, and plunged and scrambled downwards, regardless of minor personal injuries. Halfway down we heard a shot from among the greenery near the river, which I recognized as El Hakim’s ·450. I answered it with another shot in order to apprize him of our presence, and continued the descent. Finally we reached the bottom, breathless and bleeding, our clothes literally in ribbons. The donkeys and cattle followed us, scrambling down in some remarkable manner, though how I could not stop to inquire. Most probably they, like ourselves, were induced by the sight of the green vegetation and the smell of water to attempt a descent which at any other time they would never have faced.
Another three-quarters of an hour over the flat brought us to the spot where El Hakim was already camped. The report we had heard had been the death-knell of a Waller’s gazelle (Lithocranius Walleri), which was at once divided among the men, so that they had at least a taste of meat to go on with—we ourselves dining on two guinea-fowl, one of which I had shot on the road, the other having been secured by El Hakim. We were all tired out, and turned in immediately we had finished eating. The tents were not needed, the climate being so mild. Indeed, from now onwards, till we were once more at this point on our way back to Kenia, we did not need to use the tents at all, except for the sake of privacy.