Through lands that were dark / Being a record of a year's missionary journey in Africa and Madagascar

by F. H. Hawkins

B.—CENTRAL AFRICA

CHAPTER IV
The Heart of the Dark Continent

Watchman, what of the night?
The Watchman said, The morning cometh.
Isaiah.

The night is far spent and the day is at hand.
St. Paul.

After four and a-half months spent in South Africa, where the Native Church has been planted for a century, I proceeded north to Central Africa, where missionary work is in its early stages and the Native Church in its infancy. Leaving Tiger Kloof towards the end of March, I travelled by the Cape-to-Cairo Railway through the Protectorate and Southern Rhodesia, and was joined by the other member of the Central African Deputation, Mr. Houghton, at the Victoria Falls. The Railway took us to Ndola, 1,373 miles north of Tiger Kloof. There we were met by Mr. Nutter, of Mbereshi, in our Central Africa Mission, and over 100 native carriers who were to be our companions for many a day to come. Before attempting any description of travel in Central Africa it will be well to say something about the country itself.

Map of Central Africa, showing L. M. S. Mission Stations.
(Kambole should be west, and not south of Kafukula).

As late as the middle of last century maps of Africa described the central regions of the Dark Continent as unexplored. The labours of Livingstone, his contemporaries and successors have revealed to the peoples of the West a vast area as extensive as Europe which is somewhat vaguely described as Central Africa. Towards the end of the century this great expanse of country had been parcelled out amongst the great Powers of Europe. Internal peace has taken the place of tribal warfare, and the land has been thrown open to Western colonization. Foremost amongst the pioneers of civilization has been the Christian Missionary, and one of the earliest Societies to enter the field was our own. A remarkable and immediate result of the travels of Livingstone was the occupation of Central Africa by some of the missionary organizations of Britain. The work commenced by our own Society, the Church Missionary Society, the Universities’ Mission and the Presbyterian Missions was due directly or indirectly to the influence of that great Missionary explorer—David Livingstone.

Central Africa exercises a singular fascination on those who visit it. Its great lakes, its mighty rivers, its boundless forests, its glorious sunshine, the black races which inhabit it, all combine to make travel in that region a unique and delightful experience. In our case that travel was made the more pleasant by the company of one and another of our missionaries on our journeys, and the great privilege we enjoyed of fellowship with them and their families in their homes, and the opportunities afforded us of seeing something of the work which they are carrying on amongst the people of the land.

One of the first impressions a traveller receives is that of the vastness of the territory and the comparative sparseness of the population. These facts, together with the want of facilities for rapid travel, constitute serious difficulties in carrying on missionary work.

My colleague and I were the first Deputation from the Society to visit Central Africa. As long ago as 1879 the Directors accepted an offer from the Society’s Foreign Secretary, Dr. Mullens, to visit the Mission. He proceeded to Zanzibar and started on his journey to Lake Tanganyika, but died at Chakombe in July of that year and was buried in the C. M. S. cemetery at Mpwapwa, between Tabora and Dar-es-Salaam. Since that day conditions of travel and of life in Northern Rhodesia (which is the part of Central Africa in which the L. M. S. carries on nearly all its work) have completely changed. No more striking evidence of the change can be afforded than a comparison between the experiences of the early missionaries and of their successors, twenty-five years later. The average term of service for the first ten missionaries who served in Central Africa was well under three years. The ten missionaries at present on the field have already to their credit an average term of service of thirteen years, and the majority of them are still under forty years of age. Moreover, in the first ten years of the Mission eleven missionaries died on the field, and six were invalided home, and (with one exception) did not return. During the last ten years not a single missionary has died on the field, and no missionary has retired on account of ill-health.

It was our good fortune to visit Central Africa during its winter, and our experience of the climate was altogether delightful. Even during the hot season the heat is not so extreme as might be expected from the geographical position of the country. At the Society’s stations the thermometer seldom, if ever, reaches 100° Fahrenheit during the hottest season—a point often exceeded further south. Nevertheless, Central Africa is still a trying place for many people. The liability to malarial fever, dysentery, and cognate diseases is considerable. Nor must it be forgotten that all our stations are necessarily at a high altitude above sea level. The lowest of them—Kafukula—is nearly as high as the top of Snowdon, while all the remaining stations are between 4,700 and 5,600 feet up, except Mbereshi, the altitude of which is 3,900 feet. Life at this altitude is often trying to the nerves and heart, and the strain is all the more severe owing to the impossibility of securing a substantial change of altitude without great expenditure of time and money. The distance to the coast is so great, the travel is so trying, and the cost is so heavy that it is practically impossible for our missionaries and their families to obtain a complete change—either as a mid-term furlough or otherwise.

Perhaps the best indication of the changed conditions of life and the improved health of the Mission in these later days is afforded by the splendid health enjoyed by the missionaries’ children. The picture facing this page speaks for itself.

But there is an aspect of life in Central Africa which must not be over-looked, namely its isolation. At only one of our stations is any other white man in residence. There are less than a dozen white people—officials and a trader—at Kawambwa, the Government station twenty miles from Mbereshi, and about a dozen at Abercorn—the Metropolis, as it is called, of the white people in the Society’s area—ten miles from Kawimbe.

Photo by] [Bernard Turner.
Hilda. Gay. Kenneth. Ethel. Dennis. Sylvia. Hope. Monica. Marjorie. Franklin.
Healthy Missionary Children in Central Africa.

The exercise of a little imagination will enable the reader to realise something of the loneliness of men and women living in a country where there are so few people of their own race. Moreover, the Mission stations are widely separated from each other. Mbereshi is five days’ journey from Mpolokoso, eight days’ journey from Kambole, nine and a-half days’ journey from Kafukula, and eleven days’ journey from Kawimbe.

For the greater part of the three months following our departure from the railway at Ndola we lived in tents, and travelled through the great Central African forest, which in fact extended nearly all the way from Bulawayo, the capital of Southern Rhodesia, to Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of German East Africa, situated on the east coast of the Continent, 80 miles south of Zanzibar. Almost the whole of this country is a plateau from 4,000 to 6,000 feet above the level of the sea. The southern part of this forest is traversed by the Zambesi, and the western portion is bounded by the Congo, there known as the Luapula, while situated on the table-land there are the great lakes of Bangweolo, Mweru and Tanganyika, the two last of which we visited. In travelling through the forest one day’s journey is very like another, although each day abounds with a variety of incidents and new sights and new experiences for one who visits the country for the first time. A general description of the means and conditions of travel will suffice.

We were almost wholly dependent upon native carriers. With the exception of bicycles and single-wheeled bush-cars there is no wheeled traffic in Northern Rhodesia. There are practically no roads in our meaning of that term. The travel-routes are native paths—often very narrow and overgrown. In the long grass, which is a remarkable feature of the country, the path often cannot be seen, but can only be felt by the feet. There are no inns or rest-houses. Tents, bedding, cooking utensils, food, etc., must all be carried everywhere. The minimum number of carriers required by one person on a short journey is about twelve if a bicycle is used, or eighteen to twenty if a machila is the means of conveyance. A machila is a chair slung between two poles and carried by four men. For longer journeys extra men are needed to carry supplies, or in case of sickness among the carriers. Should native food not be easily obtained—as at certain seasons is the case everywhere, and along many of the main travel-routes, more or less constantly all the year round—five more men are needed for each week that food has to be carried. Carriers cost about 1s. 6d. per man per week away from their homes. The general practice is to pay 1s. a week in cash on discharge, and the balance in calico, cash, salt or food, weekly in advance. The speed of travel is, of course, dependent on the ability of the carriers, and the nature of the country traversed, but it may be taken as about seventeen or eighteen miles a day, or three miles an hour, including rests. Sometimes over thirty miles is accomplished with loads, or even more with a letter only. Our average day’s travel from Ndola to Mbereshi was just under twenty miles, but on two days we covered over thirty miles.

Our experience of Central African travel was a delightful one. We left the rail a week or two before the rainy season comes to an end in most years, and we had been warned that we should probably meet with a good deal of rain on our way to Mbereshi. We only had two or three showers the whole way, and with one trifling exception all these fell after we were in camp. We tasted some of the joys of crossing Central African swamps, but with the kindly assistance of our carriers, whose backs and shoulders were always at our service, we were none the worse. Numerous rivers and streams were crossed in dug-out canoes, on men’s backs and shoulders, and by means of tree trunks, stones, or bridges made of the branches of trees. The Luapula (Congo) was crossed in a steel boat.

On the recommendation of the missionaries on the spot we had provided ourselves with bush-cars as our means of conveyance after leaving the railway. A bush-car is a seat fixed over a motor-cycle wheel with steel tube shafts back and front. It is propelled by two men, whereas a machila requires four men, and thus a bush-car halves the cost of carriers. Moreover, it is a much quicker means of conveyance than a machila. The experiment was entirely justified. Some days we were enabled to travel upwards of thirty miles without undue fatigue.

It may be of interest to describe shortly a typical day’s programme on “ulendo”—as travel with carriers is universally called in Northern Rhodesia. We rose at six. Before we had finished dressing a number of carriers would be besieging our tents to snatch up our boxes and other luggage in order to make an early start. Within a few minutes of vacating our tents they would be taken down and made into suitable loads and our beds and bedding would be packed and carried away. We breakfasted in the open air about 6.45, and generally by 7.15 or 7.30 we were under way. It was our custom to walk for the first hour or two in spite of the heavy dew, which during the first part of our trip covered the giant grass and the trees until the sun was well up. Fortunately for us the cavalcade of carriers who had gone on ahead acted as “dew-driers” by brushing the water off the grass as they passed along.

For the most part our journey lay through forest and bush and tall grass, along native paths or roads three or four feet wide, which had been made under the direction of the Government, but were often overgrown with grass and shrubs except for a narrow track a foot or eighteen inches in width, which had been kept clear by the constant passing of natives along it. The greater part of our travel was over the plateau, on which the paths were fairly level except at the depressions caused by the numerous streams which drain it. From time to time, however, there were steep, rocky hills to be surmounted, and there were occasional swamps. It was not often possible to ride more than a few miles in the bush-car without alighting and walking for some distance. A very uncomfortable experience is to travel by bush-car or on a bicycle along a path over which elephants have passed a short time before. The sensation of bumping over footprints fifteen inches across and three or more inches deep, and occupying the whole width of the path, can be better imagined than described.

We generally took luncheon between twelve and one, at a place where water was to be found, either in a native village or in the forest. We often found the table spread and the meal awaiting us, but sometimes we had to wait long for it if our luncheon box happened to be far behind us on the road. Then came two or three hours’ further travel before we finished our journey for the day. Then came a cup of tea, and as soon as the tents were pitched a bath and change of clothing. We dined about sunset. Then followed what was to us the most delightful of the day’s experiences. The rule on “ulendo” is for every man, when he collects the firewood for his own watch fire, to bring a log for the white man’s fire. Night after night we had magnificent camp-fires. Often the missionary accompanying us would gather the men together for a service round the fire, and sometimes the villagers also came. Those camp-fire services will long live in my memory. The men would sit round the fire, most of them naked to the waist, with their faces lit up by the fitful flames or the light of the moon. They would listen with rapt attention to the reading of the Scriptures or the words of the missionary, or would join in prayer, often led by one of themselves, with the utmost devoutness. But the most impressive part to us of these services was the hearty and reverent singing of the hymns in the native language to tunes well-known at home. These people have wonderful verbal memories. Hymn books seemed quite superfluous. Many of them knew by heart most of the hymns in their collection, and it was quite evident that they much enjoyed singing them. After the men had dispersed to their own camp-fires came an hour or two’s talk round our fire before we sought the shelter of our tents and our mosquito nets. It was our practice to join in English evening prayers immediately after dinner. But often long before we had left our chairs round the fire our native servants, and oft-times many of the carriers, would spread their mats, or, failing mats, lay some grass on the ground, as near the fire as possible, with their bare feet towards it, and wrap themselves in blanket or cloth and go to sleep under the stars, grateful for the genial warmth of the fire in the cold night of a Central African winter, and for the protection it afforded them against the beasts of prey who were often prowling near at hand.

Thus we travelled through Northern Rhodesia, visiting the stations of our Central Africa Mission, calling upon the European Magistrates and Native Commissioners, meeting Native Head-men and Chiefs, and passing through numbers of small native villages, at all of which we received a hearty welcome. When we entered a village, or met native carriers on the path through the forest, we were greeted with the salutation “Mutende,” which, being interpreted, means “Peace.” The carriers would take their loads off their heads or shoulders, squat down on their haunches, clap their hands and give us their salutation. On leaving a village we were often accompanied for a mile or two by a running crowd of natives, consisting for the most part of women with babies tied upon their backs and laughing children, who would shout and sing as they ran behind and before the bush-cars or bicycle. We soon got accustomed to the sight of these natives, nearly all of them naked to the waist, and many of the children altogether naked. Most of those whom we saw were smiling, happy-looking people, but that there was another side to the picture was often painfully apparent. In many villages the faces of nearly all the adults were marked with small-pox. We frequently met cripples and lepers. Sore eyes, caused by the smoke of the wood fires in the huts, for which there is no escape but the door, were much in evidence, and we heard sad stories of the high rate of mortality amongst these children of nature. Certain forms of disease were very prevalent, and laid a heavy toll upon the people. Signs of the superstition which shadowed their lives, and which is the main feature of their animistic religions, were abundant. In many a village the rude “spirit-hut,” with offerings of food spread in front of it was to be seen, and we heard many sad stories of the influence wielded by sorcerer and witch-doctor upon the lives of the people.

Everywhere we experienced the good-will and hospitality of the inhabitants. On arrival at our camping places a dozen women would appear with brooms made of the twigs of the trees and brushes to sweep the site of the camp clean before the tents were pitched. Others would hasten off to the nearest watering-place to get a supply of water in very large rough clay vessels for ourselves and our men. We often pitched our camp in the middle of a village, and on these occasions many of our men slept in the huts of the villagers which had been willingly vacated to afford this accommodation. Mealies, manioc, and native flour would be purchased by the missionary in charge of the expedition for the men, and fowls and eggs for our own larder. Portions of Scripture and hymn books would be sold by the missionary, and there were many applications for them. Wherever we went the people were always most grateful for any recognition of their efforts to show us hospitality. Their desire for books for themselves and schools for their children was everywhere apparent; while they were always willing to come to the open-air services round the camp-fires. In the parts of Northern Rhodesia through which our journey lay there were but small indications of the advance of Mohammedanism from the north, of which we had heard much. In the territory recognised as the Society’s field of operations we have the country almost to ourselves. But in the northern part of this territory there were not wanting indications that the followers of the “false prophet” were already at work. In the northern part of Central Africa Islam is advancing like a flood, and it was clear that unless our Society is able effectively to occupy this territory, we shall before many years be face to face with the growing forces of Mohammedanism in its most debased form. The light which is brightening the sky in Central Africa has this background of threatened cloud and storm.

CHAPTER V
The Brightness of His Rising

Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For, behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the peoples; but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And nations shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.—Isaiah.

After fifteen days’ travel by bush-car, on bicycle, and on foot we had traversed the 286 miles between the railway and Mbereshi. We crossed a strip of the Congo-Belge territory shortly after leaving the railway. At Sakania, the first station over the boundary, all our men were examined by the doctor, and everyone who had not had small-pox was vaccinated. We heard a gruesome story of a native postman who had been arrested a fortnight before, in whose wallet a half-eaten human foot had been discovered. A day or two later we crossed the Congo back into Northern Rhodesia again. In the interval many rivers had to be crossed, sometimes on tree trunks, but more often on the shoulders of our carriers. The forest was magnificent, one of its most striking features, perhaps, being the large number of giant ant-hills, some 30 feet high, generally around some great tree, and always covered with bush and grass, flowers and trees. Butterflies were to be seen in myriads, exhibiting all the colours of the rainbow. The crossing of the Congo was a new experience. Descending the hill from the last Belgian Post Office, Kalunga, the post-master of which was a young Belgian Count, we crossed a bit of swampy ground on men’s shoulders and then reached the landing-place, where pandemonium was raging. Our crowd of carriers were there struggling for the two or three dug-out canoes in which to transport themselves and their loads across the river, which at this place—although it is thousands of miles from the sea—is considerably wider than the Thames at London Bridge. It swarms with hippopotami and crocodiles. But my most vivid recollection of the Congo is that one of my bearers managed to drop an iron box containing my papers into the river. Unfortunately it leaked and considerable damage resulted.

The village on the other side, in which we encamped, was typical of many another village we passed through on our journey. Just behind our tents were three spirit-huts; all around us were native houses built of straw and mud, and then came an enormous growth of kaffir-corn about twelve feet high. Surrounding this was forest, save where the river wound its tortuous course. In the clear light of the evening the somewhat sparse foliage stood out with great distinctness against the blue of the sky, each twig and leaf being defined as if seen through a stereoscope. The neighbourhood abounds with lions, leopards, elephants, buffaloes, rhinoceros, zebras and hyenas.

Half-way on our journey we camped for one night at Fort Rosebery, the Government centre for the district. There we were the guests of the Native Commissioner, Mr. Denton Thompson, one of the small band of young Cambridge men who are now being employed by the Chartered Company as Magistrates and Native Commissioners. It is satisfactory to be able to state that almost without exception the Government officials we came across in Northern Rhodesia were men really interested in the welfare of the natives and anxious to do their duty by them. Here as elsewhere we received the kindest hospitality. Whenever we visited the Government station we were invariably entertained by the officials, to whom no trouble seemed too great which ministered to our comfort.

During the following week we passed through country infested with lions. At Mupeta we saw the skin of an enormous lion which had been killed the day before. During the previous week this lion had killed five natives. The people in the village laid a trap for him by tying a goat in an empty hut, on each side of the door of which they had dug a pit and had covered them over with laths smeared with mud. At the bottom of the pits they had fixed spears pointing upwards. The lion fell into one of them and the natives, who were on the watch, speared him from above. There were at least a dozen holes in his skin. In this neighbourhood twenty-two natives had been killed by lions in a fortnight. We passed through one village where on the previous day a man had been carried off by a lion, and a day or two before a woman and a child, who were laying fish traps in the stream, had been killed and carried away.

On our arrival at Mbereshi we received a very warm welcome. About five miles from the station some fifty boys met us and ran with us along the broad road, which has been made by Mr. Nutter, for some distance into the forest. The men in charge of the bush-cars raced at full speed. Groups of people met us nearer the station, all of whom joined the racing cavalcade. Loud peals of thunder kept reverberating overhead and drowned the reports of the guns which were fired to welcome us. We arrived just as the first drops of a terrific thunderstorm fell. Mr. Nutter’s house was soon crowded with natives, and there was endless shouting and hand-shaking. Never had the natives had such a time in Mbereshi. The whole village rose to the occasion and turned out to give the representatives of the L. M. S. a hearty welcome. On the following day we were the recipients of numerous presents of fowl, flour, goats and eggs.

Photo by] [Bernard Turner.
Native with Fish Trap.

Mbereshi is a delightful station with a magnificent view to the westward from the front of the Mission Houses, rolling parkland and forest, with the Mofwe Lagoon four miles away on the horizon. Along the shores of this lake and beyond there are about thirty villages with a large population, which has settled there as a result of the regulations to combat the sleeping-sickness. These have had the effect of driving the Natives from the east and south shores of Lake Mweru to the Mofwe villages. All the missionary activities of a flourishing Mission station are in operation. There are Sunday services, schools, classes for hearers and catechumens, and prayer meetings. The Christians from the head-station go out to the villages on Sundays to conduct services. Industrial work is being carried on under the able superintendence of Mr. Bernard Turner. The fame of the cabinet-making and carpentry of the boys trained by him is spread far and wide over Northern Rhodesia. Much of the furniture in the houses of the Government officials was manufactured here or at Kambole. Medical work, too, has been carried on at this station, and for several years a doctor was in residence. Leprosy is common. In the district there are 147 registered cases, and probably not less than 200 people are suffering from the disease. Our Mission work was commenced here in 1900, and the early days were times of great trial. One of the first missionaries, Mr. Purvis, died there in 1901, a fortnight after Mr. Nutter’s arrival, and his grave is to be seen under a tree near the Mission houses. In 1903 a missionary and a missionary’s wife died on two successive days. God buries his workmen, but carries on His work.

During our stay at Mbereshi we visited Kazembe, the paramount Chief of the district, who nominally rules over 30,000 people. His town is some six miles away from Mbereshi, through the thick forest and the long grass. He received us outside his hut in the centre of the kraal, in which are a hundred huts for his hundred wives. He was seated on the ground, gorgeously and grotesquely adorned with beads and skins and gaily coloured skirts, and wore four large bells, gaiters of beads, and numerous heavy anklets above his bare feet.

We sat down on low stools and Mr. Nutter helped us to talk to him. He showed us his treasures. One was a bloodthirsty-looking dagger which had belonged to ten chiefs before him, and had often been used to kill men. He produced a large number of charms, which he believes keep the lions away, and played tunes on a wooden drum cut by himself out of a solid tree trunk and decorated with brass-headed nails. He uses this to call his servants when he wants them. The heads of the drum-sticks are made of raw rubber. He sent for another and much larger drum made in the same fashion, and carried by two men on a pole, and also showed us two dulcimers made of wood and calabash. He gave us some raw green mealies (Indian corn) to eat. Kazembe smoked cigarettes, and when a member of the party offered him one he wanted to keep the silver cigarette-case. Then he took us to the Mission School where there were 186 black boys and girls, many of whom were quite naked, and most of the rest were dressed in pieces of string!

A day or two afterwards Kazembe came to pay us a return visit, accompanied by hundreds of his followers. He was seated on a platform suspended between two tree trunks and carried by thirty men, a great umbrella being held over his head. He himself beat his wooden drum to tell us he was coming, and a man carrying great yellow and black flags walked in front of him, and when he got off the platform he strutted about like a peacock.

Twenty years ago the Chief was a great warrior, and often led his tribe to battle; but the coming of the British Government and of the missionaries has changed all that. For fifteen years not a shot has been fired in anger in his country, and the nearest British soldier or policeman is stationed more than a thousand miles away at Bulawayo. Such is the influence of the Pax Britannica in Northern Rhodesia!

On another day we crossed the picturesque Mbereshi river by the ferry in two dug-out canoes, passing through masses of cream and mauve water-lilies, visiting a considerable number of the Mofwe villages, inspecting the schools and receiving the greetings of the Chiefs and Headmen, with whom we exchanged gifts. The villages consist of one wide street, and are almost continuous. The people live on fish and tapioca. At the farthest point at the north end of the Lagoon was a village, on the site of an older moated village, where Livingstone stayed for some weeks when he first visited the district. We interviewed one or two of the old inhabitants, who well remembered seeing him and were able to describe him to us.

After a stay of ten days at Mbereshi we plunged into the forest again and journeyed to Chiengi on the north-east shore of Lake Mweru, which was discovered by Livingstone in the late sixties. On the way we paid a visit to Kashiba, a proposed site for the new station for the Chiengi district. This visit brought home to us very clearly some of the discomforts of Central African travel. After leaving our camp we had to traverse some half-mile of bad swamp, being carried through several stretches of water on the shoulders of our bearers. I used a bicycle, but before we had gone very far a tremendous storm broke and flooded the path. We sought shelter in a hut in one of the villages. There was a fire inside, the smoke from which filled the hut and only partially escaped through the thatch and the door. Except for the glow of the fire and the flashes of lightning seen through the doorway it was perfectly dark. The village street gradually became a raging torrent. After the storm had ceased we pushed on through the long grass, six to ten feet high and laden with water, arching over the narrow winding path. We passed through a succession of villages, and as we neared the site of the proposed station the people, who knew why we were coming and who are most anxious to have a missionary residing amongst them, gave us an ovation. The site overlooks the rapids of the great Kalungwishi river, and a mile away a column of spray indicated the presence of a great waterfall. Another deluge of rain descended as we turned back. I hastened in front on the bicycle and reached the swamp as it was getting dark. The heavy rain had converted it into a lake. I rode along the path until the water was up to the pedals, then I dismounted and pushed the machine. Soon both wheels were under water. It grew deeper and deeper until finally, when the water became breast high, I was obliged to lift the machine and carry it over my head. Such are the joys of travel in Central Africa!

Next day we entered the sleeping-sickness area and crossed the great Game Reserve to get our first sight of Lake Mweru. The day afterwards we arrived at Chiengi, after experiencing the delights of travelling on a narrow path along which for miles elephants had been walking after the rain. Cycling under such conditions is a somewhat trying experience.

The view of Lake Mweru from the verandah of the Native Commissioner’s house at Chiengi is of surpassing loveliness. To the south the lake stretches away as far as the eye can see, bordered on the left side by the forest and on the right by the mountains of the Belgian Congo 25 miles away. Opposite, a little to the south, is Lunza, the beautiful home of Mr. Dan Crawford, the famous author of “Thinking Black.” At one’s feet the water broke in tiny wavelets on the golden sand. Its music was in our ears throughout our stay. The Central African sunset from Chiengi was a sight to be remembered. The sun went down behind a bar of cloud. A purple light, which rapidly turned to green, lit up the western shores of the lake. After the sun had sunk below the horizon there was a perfect blaze of colour over a large portion of the sky, and purple, green and golden light stretched in broad bands above the surface of the lake.

From Chiengi we journeyed to Mpolokoso, the newest of the stations of the L. M. S. in Central Africa, where Dr. McFarlane has a small hospital consisting of eight native huts. Our stay here was curtailed owing to a very serious outbreak of small-pox, nearly half the inhabitants of the village suffering from this scourge. Most of those who were not isolated in the segregation camp had already had the disease. Mpolokoso himself, the Chief of the village, succumbed to it a few days later. The Government officials were using every effort to stay the spread of the disease; all infected huts were at once destroyed by fire, and no one was allowed to enter or leave the village. The thin columns of smoke ascending from the burning huts into the cloudless sky told a pathetic tale. On arrival our carriers were put into custody to prevent them mixing with the people, and every precaution was taken for the safety of ourselves and our men. One felt great sympathy with Mr. Cullen Gouldsbury, the Native Commissioner, upon whom great responsibility rested. Mr. Gouldsbury is a man of many parts. He is in the service of the British South Africa Company’s Administration, and we had many indications of the sympathetic way in which he carried out his duties in looking after the welfare of the natives. Moreover, he is a poet of no mean order, a constant contributor of verse to the columns of the Bulawayo Chronicle, has written a delightful book of poems, is the joint author of “The Great Plateau of Northern Rhodesia,” the most authoritative work on the country through which we were travelling, and last year published a book entitled “An African Year.” He has always been a friend of the Mission, and it will be of interest to quote his testimony from his latest book, as to one of our missionaries and his wife, which is rendered all the more valuable by the fact that Mr. Gouldsbury is himself a Roman Catholic.

“My views upon missionaries and their work, from the general point of view, stand recorded elsewhere. I have no intention of recapitulating them here. Let me rather dwell upon the personal standpoint, as exemplified in the festive little couple who are our neighbours at —— six miles away.

“Let us call them Saunders—since that is not their name, and quite sufficiently unlike it—Joseph Saunders and Jane his wife.

“All missionaries in this country, whether Baptist, Presbyterian, Church of England, or White Fathers, are hard-working, whatever else they may be. Saunders himself is a man hung upon wires, each of which would seem charged with a full circuit of electricity. He and his wife and the sun rise together—a most energetic trio. Before breakfast he has conducted service, taught for an hour or two in the school, visited the workshops and checked the labourers about the station. During the rest of the day he is occupied with blacksmithery, joinery and the like—laid in slabs between other chunks of teaching. As likely as not in the evening he will go out after a buck, for Joseph Saunders is that rara avis among missionaries, a keen hunter; and after dinner if there are people in the house he will play ping-pong till all is blue. Not the ordinary ping-pong, you may be sure; that does not afford sufficient outlet for his exuberant spirits. Kapembwa ping-pong has mysterious rules of its own, such as that the players must bound upon the table between the strokes, or lie flat on the floor between serving and receiving the return. It is a curious game. I can generally stay out two sets, after that Beryl (the author’s wife) and I sit on the sofa and watch Saunders and his wife play.

“As for Mrs. Saunders, she is one of the nicest little women in Africa. Demure, placid, and the very antithesis of Joseph—an adorable touch of Lancashire in her soft drawling speech, and an utter freedom from affectation or pose of any kind—she is the ideal next-door neighbour in Central Africa.

“Saunders sent over the junga for Beryl, so that she was able to cover the six miles in comparative comfort, while I paddled furiously behind upon an antediluvian bicycle. For the benefit of the uninitiated I should perhaps explain that a junga is anything which moves upon wheels. Originally it meant a bicycle, but in this particular instance it refers to a marvellous construction, balanced upon one wheel, which has been built by Saunders himself in the Kapembwa workshop out of some old packing cases and gas piping, and which has to my mind solved the question of locomotion in this country.”

We stayed for two nights at the Mission house at Mpolokoso with Dr. McFarlane. On account of the small*pox it was impossible to visit the schools or to meet with the people, though on the Sunday night some half-dozen of the Mission staff, who do not live in the village, met us and presented us with a generous offering to the L. M. S. of £4 12s. 6d., made by the infant Church, which consisted of nine members only, a welcome token of the missionary spirit of the newest and smallest of the Central African Churches.

Travelling eastward from Mpolokoso we reached Kambole, near the south end of Lake Tanganyika, after three days’ journey. On our way we had our first view of this great lonely lake, eight miles away through the trees, probably from the very spot where Livingstone saw it for the first time. As we approached the station the people ran beside the bicycle and bush-car shouting their salutations and showing their joy in welcoming us in many other ways.

Kambole is the centre of a very widely-scattered district, and is in an isolated position. The nearest village is an hour and a-half’s walk away from the station-village, and some out-stations lie three or four days’ journey distant. It takes the missionaries five weeks’ continuous travelling to make a circuit of the district.

Many branches of missionary work are carried on at this centre. We attended crowded services in the Church, and meetings with the classes for hearers, catechumens, teachers and women. Some ninety-six youths, who were teachers at the schools in the outstations, at which there are 1,800 scholars, gathered at Kambole during our visit to attend the school for the training of teachers, which is held twice a year at the head station and lasts for about two months. Mr. Stewart Wright, one of the Kambole missionaries, carries on an extensive out-patient work at the dispensary near the wattle-and-daub church. Mr. Ross, the other missionary, is engaged in manifold activities and has charge of the industrial department which was established and carried on so successfully by Mr. Bernard Turner, who is now at Mbereshi. The prolific mission garden is another indication of the practical value of Mr. Turner’s work. It is excellently irrigated by the construction of water-furrows. Palms, limes, bamboos, bananas, yams, pineapples, guavas, grenadiloes, coffee, wheat, tapioca, rice, rubber, and many vegetables and flowers flourish abundantly.

Half-an-hour’s walk from the Mission House, along an eight-foot road cut through the forest for a mile and a-half, at a total cost of £2 10s. 0d., takes one to the edge of the Tanganyika Plateau, where there is a sheer fall of from 400 to 500 feet. On the right is the river, which descends in a series of beautiful waterfalls, arched over with foliage and rock, to the level of the lake below. In front the lake stretches away into the distance extending for 400 miles northward. It is bordered on the left by the mountains of the Belgian Congo and on the right by the hills of German East Africa. At the foot of the precipice is a fertile valley, once thickly populated but now uninhabited, owing to the sleeping sickness, and through this beautiful valley flows the river Lovu.

At Kambole we came across a cripple, by name Kalolo, whose history affords an illustration of the sort of missionary work which is being carried on in our Central Africa Mission.

Mr. Ross found Kalolo at Katwe, near Kambole, in 1906, destitute and emaciated, cowering over a few embers of fire, his feet a mass of putrid ulcers, which had not been washed or dressed for many a long day. He seemed to have no relations. Mr. Ross brought him to the station at Kambole, and on his arrival prepared lotions for him, and put him in charge of another youth, also a cripple, whom he told to wash Kalolo’s sores. Cripple No. 2, by name Nundo, was afraid and demurred. Mr. Ross took him into the house and read to him the story of the Good Samaritan, and told him to go and help Kalolo. He then consented, and assisted the missionary to attend to Kalolo for a long time. Mr. Ross had taught Nundo to repair boots and shoes, and this work he did for some time, but ultimately disappeared while Mr. Ross was on furlough. Mr. and Mrs. Ross did their best for Kalolo for five years, thus bearing witness to the people of the compassionate spirit of the Gospel they had come to teach. The Mission doctors when visiting the station treated Kalolo, but at last (in 1910) Dr. Wareham, after vainly endeavouring to cure his tedious ulcers by palliative measures, amputated both feet. When Kalolo returned to consciousness he was so depressed that he tried to destroy himself. He still bears a scar on his forehead caused by dashing his head upon the ground in his despair. He was, however, brought through that crisis, and when he had recovered he was sent back to Kambole station. A wooden waggon was made in the joiner’s shop to enable him to get about. Then he was taught boot and shoe repairing, as the Europeans in the neighbourhood all sent their boots and shoes to Kambole to be repaired. Kalolo was highly delighted to have a means of making a living, and became a most useful man at that station. Later, when Mr. Ross wished to find employment for two blind men who came seeking work, he put them with Kalolo to grind wheat. They proved to be a most successful trio at this work, and in sawing up timber with the cross-cut saw, at which employment they were engaged during my visit. Kalolo came to Mr. Ross long ago to say that he wished to join the Enquirers’ Class, and was enrolled. He afterwards came to the missionary and offered to help to dress the repulsive sores of another unfortunate occupant of the little station hospital. Thus the light of the Gospel is spreading in Darkest Africa, and the Native torch-bearers are lifting it high, and passing it on from hand to hand until “the beauty and the glory of the Light” shall illumine the people that are now sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death.

Accompanied by a large crowd of people, who escorted us on our way for two or three miles, we left Kambole, still travelling eastward, for Kafukula, a mission station near the south-eastern corner of Lake Tanganyika, staying for a night at a village to which some of the people on the lake shore had been moved in consequence of the sleeping-sickness. It was amongst these people that Livingstone stayed for some weeks when he first visited the lake. The exterior of many of the huts was decorated with charms in the shape of snail shells. Nearly all the women of the village had holes, about the size of five-shilling pieces, in the lobes of their ears, in which large discs of wood, decorated with grotesque specimens of native art, were placed.

Photo by] [Ernest H. Clark.
Kafukula Mission House, which cost £40.

On the following day, escorted by Mr. Clark, the Kafukula missionary, we reached that station, having descended some 2,000 feet from the edge of the Plateau, enjoying on the way magnificent views of the lake, near the shores of which we could see the ruins of the old Mission station at Niamkolo, which we were to visit a few days later. The Kafukula Mission house is a wattle-and-daub erection, and one of the most picturesque residences in Central Africa, as will be seen from the picture on the opposite page. It was built by Mr. Clark in 1910 at a total cost of £40. The view from the verandah can never be forgotten. In front the valley shelves down to the lake shore some 300 feet below. A small island, which is the property of the Society, nestles in the lake close to the bank, while beyond away to the north stretch the crystal waters in their mysterious loneliness. The eastern shore is visible for some distance, but the western is hidden by the trees in the foreground. This exquisite picture is framed by the forest-crowned hills on either side.

We had a great reception. As soon as we were seen descending the hill the drums began to beat, the bugle sounded and a gun was discharged. The people showed their gladness by smacking their mouths with their hands while emitting a clear bell-like sound. At the bottom of the hill the village Headman, a Christian, and a Church member of many years’ standing, met us, and we walked into the village between rows of people who, as we passed along, closed in behind and formed a long procession. Here and there were groups of children singing hymns, some of them in the native language and some in English. We passed through the village and down the slope to the beautiful river Lunzua, a rushing torrent, over which a primitive bridge of tree-trunks and mud in the shape of a crescent moon leads to the path to the Mission house, which is situated on a hill on the other side and is reached by a flight of forty-five steps.

Kafukula is the village to which many of the people from Niamkolo on the lake shore were moved in consequence of the sleeping-sickness regulations. During our stay we paid a visit to Niamkolo and the lake. The following description, written on the evening of the day of our visit, will speak for itself:—

“We were up early—as is usual in Central Africa. After breakfast we started for Niamkolo and the lake shore. On Mr. Clark’s advice I donned my ‘ulendo’ dress—a large white sun-helmet, a khaki flannel bush-shirt, khaki shorts, and stout boots and stockings and leather leggings. The Mission family accompanied us, Mrs. Clark travelling in a machila; the children—Dennis and Marjorie Clark—were accommodated in a box slung on a pole, carried by two men. My colleague travelled in a chair suspended between two poles and carried by relays of four men. Mr. Clark and I walked. It was a glorious morning. We stayed for a few moments at two villages to see the schools, or rather to see the teacher and his scholars, for school is held in a kind of stockade open to the sky, but partially shaded by a tree. The children sang lustily some verses of Mambwe hymns. Like all Central Africans they have wonderful memories, and soon learn the hymn-book of nearly one hundred hymns by heart.

“The walk was somewhat arduous, as much of it was through very long, thick, bamboo-like grass. Beyond the second village the land is uninhabited, and is forbidden ground owing to the sleeping-sickness regulations. We had to obtain special passes from the officials at Abercorn to permit us to make the trip. Mr. Clark had gone down with thirty men a week before to clear the path as much as possible and to burn the grass where necessary and practicable. It was an eight-mile walk to the former Mission station at Niamkolo, and nearly two miles further to the shore. The old station was a pathetic sight. The brick house in which the Stewart Wrights and the Clarks had lived was in ruins, as it had been left after the fire seven years ago. The walls were standing to the first floor, and inside trees, shrubs and grasses were growing in wild profusion. It was on Saturday evening, the 29th June, 1906, that the detached kitchen took fire in a great gale of wind. The sparks were carried on to the thatch of the dwelling house, and in two hours the place was burnt out—very little being saved. The Clarks were there to see their home destroyed before their eyes. This was the first time Mrs. Clark had visited the spot since the conflagration.

“Then came the walk down the hill past the site of the house in which Mr. and Mrs. Hemans, the black missionaries from Jamaica, used to live. Then we crossed the plain, once a great garden and rice field, now a swamp, to reach the Church and the shore. I was carried across the swamp by two men holding hands, on which I sat with my arms round their necks. We reached the ruins of the Church about mid-day. It is picturesquely situated on a hill overlooking the south end of the lake, and the island belonging to the Society. Its appearance suggests, on a smaller scale, the ruins of Iona Cathedral far more than those of a Church in Central Africa. The walls and gable end and the roofless bell-tower are still standing—and what walls they are!—all of light stone fashioned in large slabs, and a yard thick. We had lunch in the bell-tower in some trepidation, as the over-hanging stones threatened to fall, and then we made our way down to the stony beach, where we lingered long. The scene was beautiful beyond description. The lake stretched away to the north into the ‘glow and glory of the distance,’ where water and sky met on the horizon. The hills on each side were clothed with sylvan loveliness. The sky was reflected on the bosom of the water. White cloud was piled on white cloud with many a glimpse of deepest blue, and the glorious sunshine dominated the scene. It was a dream of beauty.

“The beach is covered with the loveliest shells of all descriptions. As we sat on the shore the wind blew the spray from the waves into our faces. The children and I paddled, and though, doubtless, there were crocodiles in the bulrushes to our left, we did not see any. After tea we turned our faces towards Kafukula. Long before we arrived at our destination the shadows of departing day crept on, and by the time we reached the villages it was quite dark. The sunset was worthy of the beauty of the day. For some moments the western sky looked like the very gate of the eternal. Then the fireflies flitted about in thousands. Their light was, however, from time to time obliterated, as it were, by flashes of summer lightning. Then the moon came out, nearly at her fullest, and lit up the landscape with clear, cool, placid light, and in the solemn beauty of the scene we forgot all about the lions and puff-adders which infest the country after dark.

“We had a great reception in the villages. The people all turned out and greeted us, and bade us farewell with ear-splitting salutations, following us for two miles and keeping up an unearthly noise all the time. Then all was peaceful again as Mr. Clark and I reached Kafukula, and crossed the arched bridge over the rushing river, and climbed up the steps to the Mission House. From the verandah we could see the great lake ten miles away peacefully asleep in the moonlight. It has been a glorious day, which will live in the memory as long as life lasts.”

Evangelistic and educational work is carried on in Kafukula itself and in the district of which it is the centre. Services and classes for inquirers and catechumens are regularly held, and the missionary visits the whole district three times a year, conducting services, inspecting schools, interviewing inquirers and carrying on the usual missionary activities. There are seventy-nine teachers connected with the station whose wages range from £1 (one senior teacher alone gets this; the next gets 9s. 6d.), to 1s. 6d. a month, and these wages are only paid during the six or seven months that teaching in the schools is carried on. If the teacher is placed far from his home he gets in addition 1s. a month for food. There is also an evangelist, paid at the rate of 6s. a month, who visits and preaches in the villages. There are 1,300 scholars in thirty-two schools, and their education consists of reading, writing, very elementary arithmetic and the memorising of the Lord’s Prayer, the Commandments, the Beatitudes and other passages of Scripture and hymns. Valuable medical work is also carried on. Some of the teachers acquire a little knowledge of the English language, which they are proud to show off on occasion. After our meeting with the teachers we received a letter in English, signed by some seventy of them and addressed to the Directors, from which the following extracts may be given as specimens of their English scholarship. The opening sentence is as follows:

“We are exceedingly glad to write you this little note to give you a hearty greeting to you all in this district, so that the old men, women childrens, boys and girls and whose tribes of this country are anxiously to send you a good compliments as they couldn’t reach there to see your faces or to gathered in the same Church.”

It goes on: “But we were very glad to receipt those representatives who came from their long journey as far as when they came from and we had a very good general service and Mr. Horlick was one who had held the service in our Church and it was interests wonderful to hear from him about his describes preaching he told us many things about jesus christ our saviour and how a man would follow the secularity of the kingdom of God.”

The letter concluded as follows: “We thanks you very much for sending us these Deputation to visit us and to hear many things from them how do you loved us. We haven’t more information to tell you about. farewell, Sirs with lots of salutation to all. We hope you are whole in good health we should like to hear if you are better.”

“Mr. Horlick” requires some explanation. The natives were not familiar with the names of the strangers who had come amongst them, but seeing on the walls of the verandah a glazed sheet, which had arrived a few days before, advertising the merits of “Horlick’s Malted Milk,” they assumed that this “banner with a strange device” had some reference to their visitors. Hence the mistake.

From Kafukula we continued our journey eastward to Kawimbe, the oldest of the Society’s Mission stations in Central Africa. On the road, which was hilly and very beautiful, we were met by Dr. Wareham. At Abercorn, the Government centre for the northern part of Northern Rhodesia, we were hospitably entertained by the Magistrate, and then we continued our journey to Kawimbe, ten miles away, where another great welcome awaited us. Hundreds came out to meet us, many of the women and girls being decorated for the occasion with yellow and red flowers in their black woolly hair. They escorted us, laughing, singing and dancing all the way to the Mission station, which is 5,600 feet above the level of the sea, and picturesquely situated in a shallow basin. The native village is built on the hillside half-a-mile away, and is well laid out. Four miles off to the west is Fwambo, the original site of the first Mission station on the Tanganyika Plateau. A few miles to the east is the boundary between Northern Rhodesia and German East Africa. To the south-east is the fertile and populous Saise Valley, forty miles along which the sphere of the Society’s work abuts upon the field of the great Livingstonia Mission of the Free Church of Scotland. It may be mentioned that the river Congo takes its rise a few miles south of the Mission station. We remained at Kawimbe for nearly three weeks. The Annual Meetings of the Central Africa District Committee were held there during our stay. The first week was spent in seeing the work, visiting parts of the district and interviewing the missionaries and preparing for the meetings of the District Committee. One day, under the guidance of Mr. Govan Robertson, we spent over twelve hours in visiting several of the villages of the district, and accomplished the latter part of the journey in the dark. We shall long remember the struggle in the dusk through the almost impenetrable undergrowth of a picturesque mountain pass, and afterwards through the long grass.

The three Sundays spent at Kawimbe were days of great interest. On the first two large numbers of people came in to meet us from the neighbouring villages. On the second a crowded harvest-thanksgiving service was held at which offerings in kind were contributed, including sheep, goats, fowl, eggs, nuts, maize, beans, flour, cloth, bracelets, cash, etc. On the third Sunday I visited one of the adjacent villages with Mr. Robertson. Communion Services for the Native Christians and the Missionaries were held. An interesting incident during our stay was the unveiling of a brass tablet in the Church commemorating the twenty-fifth anniversary of the commencement of the work on the Plateau.

The work at Kawimbe is divided amongst the three missionaries by mutual arrangement. We had not the pleasure of meeting the senior missionary, Mr. Draper, who was away on furlough.

An early morning prayer meeting, a morning service and an afternoon class are held every Sunday. The number of Church members has been steadily increasing in later years and has now reached forty-seven. There are in addition fifty Catechumens (Christians under probation). The Church work, as far as the men are concerned, has been affected by the attraction of better pay offered elsewhere at the mines, in the stores and in German East Africa. Most, however, of the Christian men who have remained at Kawimbe have gone out regularly to preach, and some have conducted Bible classes in the villages in the neighbourhood. Besides the station classes and Sunday schools there have been during last year classes in fifty-three villages, attended by over 900 persons. There is a branch of the International Bible Reading Association. The Educational work makes steady progress, and schools are held in every village in the extensive district. At the close of 1912 there were 2,408 children on the school rolls, with an average attendance of 1,691. For the most part the school buildings are provided by the people themselves. Dr. Wareham carries on a much valued medical work, connected with which is a small hospital admirably adapted for its purpose.

Our visit to Kawimbe completed our tour of the Society’s Central Africa stations.

Northern Rhodesia can still be described as a land that is dark, but at the mission stations we visited, and at many a little outstation, the light of the Gospel is being kindled, and everywhere there is promise that the darkness is turning to dawning. The Church is in its infancy, but it is a growing Church; and, under the blessing of God, will in the days that are coming be His instrument in spreading the light where now the darkness reigns.