CHAPTER XXV.
A night’s lodging at Brass—Delightful bedfellows—Sleeping out on the Gambia—“Voices of the Night”—Lodging “up a tree”—Half a cigar for supper—The “leafy couch” abandoned—The bright side of the picture—Dr. Livingstone no washerwoman—An alarming “camping out” incident—The terrible tsetse—The camp in the wilderness—The privileges and perquisites of a Pagazi—No finery worn on the road—Recreation on the march—Daily life of an Eastern African—His sports and pastimes—Approaching a cannibal shore.
It may be safely asserted that, as a rule, the inhabitants of all civilized countries “who live at home at ease” have but a very inadequate notion of the pains and penalties endured by those explorers and adventurers whose pleasure or business it is to undertake pilgrimages more or less perilous, and on whom the said easyliving folk are dependent for all their knowledge of the ways and means of peoples barbarous and remote. Nor is it very surprising that it should be so. First of all comes in the traveller’s delicacy and disinclination to parade his personal affairs (which for by far the greater part mean his discomforts and dangers and sicknesses) in a narrative exclusively concerning other people and things, only in as far as he is associated with them in a manner too intimate for his presence to be ignored. Nor will the selfish book-buyer tolerate the adoption of any other course; it is the mysteries revealed, and not the medium revealing them, that he takes an interest in, and in most cases cares as little for the personal sensations of traveller Brown or Robinson as that the leather casing of his telescope is incommoded by the heat while he is making solar observations. Even in the case of the humane reader, there is danger that the interest excited by a book of wonders, savage or otherwise, will shut the author from his consideration from the time of scanning the title-page to the perusal of the last line. With this view of the matter before us some small measure of justice may be effected and the reader at the same time be edified by a select few instances of personal adventure and mishap that have occurred to sundry of the brave men whose records have assisted the compilation of this work. Let Mr. Hutchinson speak first as to the delights of a night’s lodging in Brass, a Western African town, as the reader will recollect, of unenviable celebrity:
“King Keya meets us in the street and offers an invitation to his country house to spend the night there; as evening is approaching we accept his hospitality and forthwith proceed to the royal suburban residence.
“If I were not alive now, and conscious of writing this in the cabin of H.M.S. V——, I could not believe that I ever should have been fortunate enough to enjoy such an uninterrupted continuation of delights as those experienced during that night’s stay in the royal abode at Brass.
“My bedroom was about twelve feet by four, with holes in the bamboo roof about eight feet high that let the rain and rats come in, and holes in the floor, probably to allow both to make their exit. There was neither stool, chair, nor table, nor any article of furniture except the bed. This was made of two empty gun chests, covered with a native country mat, and having no pillow save a log of wood. The creek by which we voyaged up was within five yards of the door, and when the tide was low bull frogs, crocodiles, and mud fish could gambol about in their native parterre in the remorseless swamp, on which a human being trying to walk would certainly be swallowed up. The odour from this place at the time of our visit was indescribable, and the sensation that it brought to my olfactory nerves was far from being like that of the south wind breathing o’er a bed of violets, stealing, and giving odour.
“As soon as I had seated myself on the bed (?), with a cigar in my mouth (for to sleep with all those accessories would have been a vain attempt), and had blown out my palm-oil lamp, down came the mosquitoes in showers, followed by some rats, which descended after them without waiting for an invitation. A few of the latter fell near to where I was sitting, and I made a furious tilt at them with a stick I had placed near me. This of course alarmed them and made them beat a retreat for some time. But as if in mockery of my chivalry within doors, outside the bull frogs commenced croaking in dozens, communicating as agreeable a sensation by their music as a rasping of a file over a rusty saw. I lay down and tried to sleep, but it was no use. In a few moments the rats were again gambolling on the roof. A slight shuffling movement which I heard on the floor made me fearful that at any minute I might be rendered conscious of something slimy in contact with my hand or face, probably a mud fish (or jump fish, as it is called by Kroomen), a kind of amphibious reptile that appears like a cross-breed between a conger-eel and a chameleon. How stupid I was to have blown out my light.
“What noise is that? Female voices outside. Who in the name of goodness are they, passing and repassing in the king’s harem—ever gabbling, gabbling, gabbling! This amusement going on during the whole livelong night with the companionship of the rats, musquitoes, and bull-frogs put a thousand strange notions into my head. Can they be going to the creek-side to sacrifice, perhaps infants? Are they on their way to undergo the process of laving in that sweet stream? If the former be their purpose, they must be out-Heroding Herod; if the latter, a Turkish bath with shampooing of curry comb would seem very appropriate for the majority of the ladies whom I saw to-day in the streets, and whose bodies were daubed over with a greasy cosmetic of red (styled in the Nimbe language Umbia), which gives the anointed the semblance of a highly tinged red Indian. But down they go and back they come, never tiring, never relenting, never showing compassion, till morning dawned, when I opened the door cautiously, and looked out.
“Some were standing in the mud, others were lifting fish and nets out of canoes. They were the king’s fisherwomen. Following their professional pursuits during the night, they had kept me in this condition of restless curiosity. Talk of Billingsgate indeed! I looked at them and there they were, wet, muddy, and slimy, like so many ebony mermaids, but still prattling and talking, their tongues clattering as if these organs were so many untirable steam engines.
“There was no use in giving them a bit of my mind, for I did not understand a word of their language, and they did not comprehend mine. It may be useless to record that I did not go down on my knees in the mud to pray for them. I was unheroic enough to imagine that a wiser thing than that, as far as my own comfort was concerned, would be to quit the Nimbe country as soon as I could: so my boys having got into the boat, I gave his sable majesty a more fervent than friendly shake of the hand, and turned my back on his territory with feelings in which I cannot say there were any sentiments of regret.”
Another night’s lodging, this time on the banks of the river Gambia. If any good Catholic wishes to perform an act of penance, second only to the tortures of purgatory, let him take a voyage to the Gambia, and let him sleep at Bathurst, if only for one night, at a certain season of the year. The traveller, on extinguishing his candle and stretching his wearied limbs, hears a distant roaring, which apparently proceeds from the ceiling of his chamber, and he, wondering what this may be, composes himself for slumber. Next he distinguishes a perpetual dull thump, thump, totally antagonistic to rest, sounding from all parts of the town far and near, and marvelling yet more what this may portend, concludes—if speculative—that the natives are celebrating some barbarous orgie, and that the noise is the music of the tom-tom. But while thus reasoning, the roaring approaches nearer and nearer, till it is as audible and like a thousand fairy fiddles playing excruciatingly out of tune. But the problem soon is solved. The note of a little shrill trumpet penetrates the inmost recesses of the ear; a sting is felt, the trumpeter performs now at one ear, now at the other, then adds a sting on the eye, which organ is damaged by the victim’s frantic attempts to crush the foe. He now finds that he is assailed by mosquitoes, and becomes so irritated by the constant buzzing and biting of his unseen foes darting now here, now there, within the mosquito curtain,—he seizes his pillow, flings it at the spot whence the sound last proceeded, but the missile, breaking the mosquito curtain, admits a bloodthirsty cloud, which, “smelling the blood of an Englishman,” settles on him, whizzing, buzzing, and biting, causing the unfortunate to suffer tortures worse than those with which Tantalus was afflicted. Sleep is near, but continually eludes his grasp, and as a last resource, stifling hot as it is, he covers himself from head to foot with the sheet. Woe if he leaves an inch of flesh exposed! Again he endeavours to sleep, but the infernal mysterious pounding, together with the horrid yells of the enemy, effectually preclude that desirable consummation, and, swearing lustily, he resigns himself with a groan to hold a nocturnal vigil, congratulating himself at least he has been enabled to out-manœuvre the ravenous foe. But his gratulations are premature, for soon he experiences sharp pricking sensations all over his body; the heat of the protecting sheet is insufferable, the agony is intense; he kicks off the sheet, the mosquitoes settle on him, again he seizes his pillow, and, until he sinks exhausted, frantically swings it round his head in the hope of overwhelming some of his unseen assailants. Wearily he rises, lights his candle, examines his limbs, and discovers minute black spots, each one itching mortally, and which are only sand flies. He also examines his bed, and, behold! it is full of ants, and probably cockroaches, several of which unpleasant animals he discovers scudding away on all sides. The only defence available is to light a cigar and envelope himself in a cloud of smoke, and when the fumes of the tobacco has driven away the hostile forces, and the mysterious thumping has ceased, about twelve o’clock the unfortunate traveller, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, falls into an uneasy sleep, unconscious of the hungry flock fastening on his prostrate form. He reposes for a space of two hours, at the expiration of which time the thumping recommencing, he awakes, and as it continues until daylight, when it is mingled with a continual hooting, like that of an owl, and a species of unearthly chanting and the tropical emulative crowing of a thousand cocks, he remains awake. The traveller now looks out of his window, and discovers that the diabolical pounding arises from the court-yard, where he beholds most of the female inhabitants (having children fastened on behind after the gipsy fashion) standing over wooden mortars energetically pulverizing something with pestles six feet in length. These dames are engaged in the manufacture of “hous,” the only edible substance to be procured in this inhospitable region, and which demands in preparation such a vast deal of labour, that the women are employed day and night, relieving one another by turns, and resting only between twelve at night and two in the morning. Other noises proceed from the marabouts in the mosques, calling the faithful to prayers, and the dismal chanting from blind men, of which there is a remarkable number, who go from yard to yard singing prayers and receiving the alms on which they subsist.
Here is another variety of night’s lodging, preferable to the preceding, perhaps, but still one which cannot be for a moment compared with the comforts of a vulgar flock bed or even a straw palliasse. Mr. Bakie, the celebrated traveller and explorer, is this time the victim:—“I managed to start our kruboys with the baggage by half-past one, and then, as only one horse was brought, Mr. Guthrie, as the oldest of the party, was mounted, while Dr. Hutchinson and I agreed to walk on, in the hopes of others being brought after us. “When, however, we had got about a mile on our way, seeing no signs of the steeds, Dr. Hutchinson declared that he would return and inquire about them, while I resolved to proceed, telling him that he might overtake me. Having got to the bottom of the hill, and finding the road, as before, very wet, I pulled off my shoes and stockings and went barefooted, that being by far the easiest mode of progression along a path of this description. In this way I had walked alone for seven or eight miles, when I lost almost all trace of the path. Having ascertained by my compass the position of the river, I endeavoured to work my way in that direction, but soon got more entangled than ever. I climbed up several trees to look around, but could not discover a single guiding mark. I was completely in the bush, the grass and brushwood being so long, thick, and close, that every step I took was a severe exertion. It was now past sunset and getting rapidly dark, and as it was only too evident that I had lost my way without any chance of bettering myself, the next question came to be, how I should pass the night. The most comfortable and the safest spot seemed to be up a tree, so I tried one, and got as high as I could, but did not much relish my quarters. All the others near me were too small; but I recollected having observed some time before a tall baobab, which I determined again to search after. I took a good mark, so that, if unsuccessful in my cruise, I still might have something to fall back upon; and starting with a good run to clear the grass, was fortunate enough in a few minutes to get a glimpse of the wished-for harbour of refuge. Luckily for me it had a double trunk, with a distance between of about two feet, so, tying my shoes together and casting them over my shoulder, I placed my back against the one trunk and my feet against the other, and so managed to climb until I got hold of a branch, by which I swung myself further up, and finally got into a spot about twelve or fifteen feet from the ground. Here I placed myself on a branch about a foot in diameter, projecting at nearly right angles, and by leaning against the main trunk and stretching out my legs before me, I found I had a tolerably comfortable seat, whence I might peer into the surrounding obscure. The night, fortunately, was not very dark, the stars gleamed overhead, while vivid flashes of lightning over the neighbouring hills enabled me from time to time to cast a momentary glance around me. I got on my shoes and stockings as a protection against insects, then passed a piece of cord loosely round the branch, so that I could pass my arm through it and steady myself, and finally made preparations for repose by kicking two places in the bark of the tree for my heels to rest in. About eight o’clock I distinctly heard in the distance the hum of human voices, and shouted to try and attract attention, but to no avail; believing, however, that there were some huts near, I marked the direction by a large tree. Feeling rather tired, I lay down on my face along the branch, throwing my handkerchief over my head, and passing each of my hands into the opposite sleeve, to prevent them from being bitten, I was soon in a state of oblivion. I must have slept upwards of four hours, when I awoke rather stiff, from my constrained position, and had to try a change of attitude. To pass the time I lit a cigar, and as I had but one, I only smoked half of it, carefully putting back the remainder to serve for my breakfast. A dew was now falling, crickets and frogs innumerable were celebrating nocturnal orgies; huge mosquitoes, making a noise as loud as bees, were assaulting me on all sides, and some large birds were roosting in the tree over my head. I tried in vain to dose away the hours, but I had had my usual allowance of sleep, and not being a bigoted partizan of the drowsy god, now that I really required his aid, he refused to attend to my invocations. I watched with most painful interest the rising and setting of various constellations, and was at length delighted with the appearance of Venus, showing that morning was now not far off. A fresh novelty next presented itself, in the form of sundry denizens of the forest, crowding to pay homage to their visitor. Howls of various degrees of intensity continually reached my ears, some resembling more the high notes of the hyæna with occasional variations, and others, very close to me, being unquestionably in the deep bass of the leopard. I once fancied that I saw a figure moving not far from me, but could not be positive. As light began to suffuse itself over the eastern sky, my nocturnal companions gradually retired, until at last I was left alone, yet not solitary, for that I could not be as long as the incessant buzzing in my ears told me that my Lilliputian winged antagonists were yet unwearied in their attacks, and still unsatiated with blood. At length as gray dawn was being supplanted by brighter daylight, I ventured to descend from my roosting place, where I had spent, not altogether without comfort, upwards of eleven hours. My first endeavour was to find a footpath, and after a little search, I stumbled over a little track, which, however, as it led in a wrong direction, I had to abandon. A more prolonged investigation discovered another, very narrow, and almost hidden by long grass, which after the heavy rain, was lying right over it. To prevent my again straying, I was obliged to bend forward and walk, almost creep, along a kind of tunnel, pulling up a few stalks and letting them fall, as a guide in case I should have to return. Though in my elevated quarters the dew had been slight, on the ground it had been very heavy, and in a few minutes I was completely drenched. When I emerged at the other extremity of this path, which was about half-a-mile long, and was again enabled to look round, I saw a little curling smoke, towards which I immediately made and found a few huts. Some Aborigines appeared, and, after their surprise had subsided, I managed to explain by means of a few broken Hausa words, that I had lost my way, had spent the night in a tree, and now wished to get to Wuza. They pointed out the way to me, but as it was not very evident to my European senses, I induced one to come with me as a guide, and we accordingly trudged along through mud and water by a route, which, to any but a thorough-bred native, would have been impossible to keep to. After walking, or rather wading in this manner for two or three miles, we fell in with my black servant and a couple of men armed to the teeth, going in search of me. They could hardly believe me, especially when I told them how I had passed the night, for they had already consigned me to the jaws of the wild beasts which abound in this neighbourhood. I accordingly dismissed my guide, a happy man, with my pocket handkerchief, which was all I had to give him, and continued my walk to Wuza, at which I arrived about nine o’clock, after a morning’s jaunt of nine or ten miles. The natives who were three in number, were astonished at my appearance and my story, and were no less surprised when they saw me devouring, with great gusto, my breakfast, which the steward had very considerately provided for me, and which was the first food I had tasted for twenty hours.”
It may be worth while to enquire how that renowned sojourner among the most savage people on the face of the earth, Dr. Livingstone, spends one of his many thousand nights in barbarous company. The worthy doctor thus responds:
“As soon as we land some of the men cut a little grass for my bed, while my servant Mashauana plants the poles of the little tent. These are used by day for carrying burdens, for the Barotse fashion is exactly like that of the natives of India, only the burden is fastened near the ends of the pole, and not suspended by long cords. The bed is made and boxes ranged on each side of it, and then the tent is pitched over all. Four or five feet in front of my tent, is placed the principal or “kotla” fire, the wood for which must be collected by the man who occupies the post of herald, and takes as his perquisite the heads of all the oxen slaughtered and of all the game too. Each person knows the station he is to occupy, both in eating and sleeping, as long as the journey lasts. But Mashauana my head boatman makes his bed at the door of the tent as soon as I retire. The rest, divided into small companies according to their tribes, make sheds all round the fire, leaving a horse-shoe shaped space in front sufficient for the cattle to stand in. The fire gives confidence to the oxen, so the men are always careful to keep them in sight of it; the sheds are formed by planting two stout forked poles in an inclined direction, and placing another over these in a horizontal position. A number of branches are then stuck in the ground in the direction to which the poles are inclined, the twigs drawn down to the horizontal pole and tied with strips of bark. Long grass is then laid over the branches in sufficient quantity to draw off the rain, and we have sheds open to the fire in front but secure from beasts behind. In less than an hour we were usually all under cover. We never lacked abundance of grass during the whole journey. It is a picturesque sight at night when the clear bright moon of these climates glances on the sleeping forms around, to look out upon the attitudes of profound repose both men and beasts assume. There being no danger from wild animals in such a night the fires are allowed almost to go out, and as there is no fear of hungry dogs coming over sleepers and devouring the food, or quietly eating up the poor fellows’ blankets, which at best were but greasy skins, which sometimes happened in the villages, the picture was one of perfect peace.
“The cooking is usually done in the natives’ own style, and as they carefully wash the dishes, pots, and the hands before handling food, it is by no means despicable. Sometimes alterations are made at my suggestion, and they believe that they can cook in thorough white man’s fashion. The cook always comes in for something left in the pot, so all are eager to obtain the office.
“I taught several of them to wash my shirts, and they did it well, though their teacher had never been taught that work himself. Frequent changes of linen and sunning of my blanket kept me more comfortable than might have been anticipated, and I feel certain that the lessons of cleanliness rigidly instilled by my mother in childhood, helped to maintain that respect which these people entertain for European ways. It is questionable if a descent to barbarous ways ever elevates a man in the eyes of savages.”
The Two Dogs or None.
The explorer’s greatest care, however, while camping out in the forest at night—his fires, his watchmen, and his watch-dogs—will not invariably secure him from danger, if there happen to be wild animals in the neighbourhood; leopards especially, insignificant in size as compared with the lion and the tiger,—there are few things so daring that a hungry leopard will not attempt them. As instanced elsewhere (see “Wild Sports of the World”), he will not scruple to enter a house and drag off a sleeping man; he has no fear of one dog, or even of two. The scene depicted on the preceding page is illustrative of a fact, and happened to a well-known Indian hunter. The labours of the day were at an end and all made snug and right in “camp.” So little apprehension did there exist of an attack by savage beasts, that the hounds set to keep guard were coupled together with a short length of chain. In the night, however, a tremendous uproar suddenly broke in on the stillness, and it was speedily discovered that a leopard had surprised the canine guard and pounced on one with the intention of carrying him off; even when the daring brute discovered that he must take both dogs, or none, he was nothing daunted, but hauled the pair of them along and was so discovered and shot.
There must not be omitted from the catalogue of evils likely to accrue to the African traveller—at least he of Southern Africa—the terrible tsetse fly, which in a single hour may devastate the explorer’s necessary cattle and leave him utterly helpless.
This insect, “Glossina morsitans” of the naturalist, is not much larger than the common house fly, and is nearly of the same brown colour as the honeybee. The after part of the body has three or four yellow bars across it. It is remarkably alert and evades dexterously all attempts to capture it with the hand at common temperatures.
In the cool of the mornings and evenings it is less agile. Its peculiar buzz when once heard can never be forgotten by the traveller whose means of locomotion are domestic animals, for its bite is death to the ox, horse, and dog. In one of Dr. Livingstone’s journeys, though the traveller watched the animals carefully and believed that not a score of flies were ever upon them, they destroyed forty-three fine oxen. A most remarkable feature is the perfect harmlessness of their bite in man and wild animals, and even calves, so long as they continue to suck the cows, though it is no protection to the dog to feed him on milk.
The poison does not seem to be injected by a sting, or by ova placed beneath the skin, for when the insect is allowed to feed freely on the hand it inserts the middle prong of the three portions into which the proboscis is divided somewhat deeply into the true skin. It then draws the prong out a little way and it assumes a crimson colour as the mandibles come into brisk operation. The previously shrunken belly swells out, and if left undisturbed the fly quietly departs when it is full. A slight itching irritation follows the bite. In the ox the immediate effects are no greater than in man, but a few days afterwards the eye and nose begin to run, and a swelling appears under the jaw and sometimes at the navel, and although the poor creature continues to graze, emaciation commences accompanied with a peculiar flaccidity of the muscles. This proceeds unchecked until perhaps months afterwards, purging comes on, and the victim dies in a state of extreme exhaustion. The animals which are in good condition often perish soon after the bite is inflicted, with staggering and blindness as if the brain were affected. Sudden changes of temperature produced by falls of rain seem to hasten the progress of the complaint, but in general the wasting goes on for months.
When the carcase is opened the cellular tissue beneath the skin is found injected with air, as if a quantity of soap bubbles were scattered over it. The blood is small in quantity, and scarcely stains the hands in dissection. The fat is of a greenish yellow colour and of an oily consistence. All the muscles are flabby and the heart is often so soft that the fingers may be made to meet through it. The lungs and liver partake of the disease. The stomach and bowels are pale and empty, and the gall bladder is distended with bile. These symptoms seem to indicate poison in the blood, the germ of which enters when the proboscis is inserted.
The mule, ass, and goat enjoy the same immunity from the tsetse as man. Many large tribes on the Zambesi can keep no domestic animals except the goat in consequence of the scourge existing in their country. Human beings are frequently bitten yet suffer no harm, and zebras, buffaloes, pigs, pallahs, and other antelopes feed quietly in the very habitat of the fly. There is not so much difference in the natures of the horse and zebra, the buffalo and ox, the sheep and antelope, as to afford any satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon. Is not man as much a domestic animal as a dog? The disgust which the tsetse shows for animal excreta is turned to account by some of the doctors. They mix droppings of animals, human milk, and some medicines together, and smear the animals that are about to pass through an infested district. This though a preventive at the time is not a permanent protection. Inoculation does not insure immunity, as animals which have been slightly bitten in one year may perish by a greater number of bites in the next. It is probable that with an increase of guns the game will perish as has happened in the south, and tsetse deprived of food may become extinct simultaneously with the larger animals. The ravages it commits are sometimes enormous. Sebituane once lost nearly the entire cattle of his tribe, amounting to many hundreds, by unwittingly intruding upon the haunts of this murderous insect.
Every day, and all day long, has the traveller to contend with the ignorance and obstinacy and superstitions of the heathen he finds himself among—oftentimes alone—on whom he is dependent not only for the success of his enterprise, but, alas! for his very life. They will work when and as easily as they choose, and should they rebel against his just remonstrance and desert, he is a doomed man. Even when the explorer has plenty of money and companions and influence, his journeyings are not invariably through paths of roses, as may be gathered from the following account of a day’s march in Eastern Africa, by Burton:
“About 5 a.m. the camp is fairly roused, and a little low chatting becomes audible. This is a critical moment. The porters have promised overnight to start early and make a long wholesome march. But, ‘uncertain, coy and hard to please,’ they change their minds, like the fair sex; the cold morning makes them unlike the men of the warm evening, and perhaps one of them has fever. Moreover, in every caravan there is some lazy, loud-lunged, contradictory, and unmanageable fellow, whose sole delight is to give trouble. If no march be in prospect they sit obstinately before the fire, warming their hands and feet, inhaling the smoke with averted heads, and casting quizzical looks at their fuming and fidgety employer. If all be unanimous, it is vain to tempt them, even soft sawder is but ‘throwing comfits to cows.’ We return to our tent. If, however, there be a division, a little active stimulating will cause a march. Then a louder conversation leads to cries of ‘Collect,’ ‘pack,’ ‘set out,’ ‘a journey, a journey to-day,’ and some peculiarly African boasts, ‘I am an ass,’ ‘a camel,’ accompanied by a roar of bawling voices, drumming, whistling, piping, and the braying of horns. The sons of Ramji come in a body to throw our tents and to receive small burthens, which, if possible, they shirk; sometimes Kidogo does me the honour to inquire the programme of the day. The porters, however, hug the fire till driven from it, when they unstack the loads piled before our tents, and pour out of the camp or village. My companion and I, when well enough to ride, mount our asses led by the gun-bearers, who carry all necessaries for offence and defence; when unfit for exercise we are borne in hammocks slung to long poles and carried by two men at a time. The Baloch tending their slaves, hasten off in a straggling body, thinking only of escaping an hour’s sun. The jemadar, however, is ordered to bring up the rear, with Said-bin-Salim, who is cold and surly, abusive, and ready with his rattan. Four or five packs have been left upon the ground by deserters or shirkers who have started empty handed, consequently our Arab either double loads more willing men or persuades the sons of Ramji to carry a small parcel each, or that failing, he hires from some near village a few porters by the day. This, however, is not easy; the beads have been carried off, and the most tempting promises without prepayment have no effect upon the African mind.
“When all is ready the guide rises and shoulders his load, which is never one of the lightest. He deliberately raises his furled flag—a plain blood red, the sign of a caravan from Zanzibar—much tattered by the thorns, and is followed by a privileged Pagazi tom-toming upon a kettle-drum much resembling a European hour-glass. This dignitary is robed in the splendour of scarlet broadcloth, a narrow piece about six feet long with a central aperture for the neck, and with streamers dangling before and behind; he also wears some wonderful head-dress, the spoils of a white and black monkey on the barred skin of a wild cat crowning the head, bound round the throat, hanging over the shoulders, and capped with a tall cup-shaped bunch of owl’s feathers or the glorious plumes of the crested crane. His insignia of office are the kipungo or fly-flapper, the tail of some beast, which he affixes to his person as if it were a natural growth, the kome, or hooked iron spit, decorated with a central sausage of parti-coloured beads, and a variety of oily little gourds containing snuff, simples, and medicine for the road, strapped round his waist. He leads the caravan, and the better to secure the obedience of his followers he has paid them in a sheep or a goat the value of what he will recover by fees and rations: the head of every animal slaughtered in camp and the presents at the end of the journey are exclusively his. A man guilty of preceding the Pagazi is liable to fine, and an arrow is extracted from his quiver to substantiate his identity at the end of the march. Pouring out of the kraal in a disorderly mob, the porters stack their goods at some tree distant but a few hundred yards, and allow the late and lazy and the invalids to join the main body. Generally at this conjuncture the huts are fired by neglect or mischievousness. The khambi, especially in winter, burns like tinder, and the next caravan will find a heap of hot ashes and a few charred sticks still standing. Yet by way of contrast, the Pagazi will often take the trouble to denote by the usual signposts to those following them that water is at hand; here and there a little facetiousness appears in these directions, a mouth is cut in the tree trunk to admit a bit of wood simulating a pipe, with other representations still more waggish.
“After the preliminary halt, the caravan forming into the order of march, winds like a monstrous land serpent over hill, dale, and plain. The kirangozi is followed by an Indian file; those nearest to him are heavily laden with ivory. When the weight of the tusk is inordinate it is tied to a pole and is carried palanquin fashion by two men. The ivory carriers are succeeded by the bearers of cloth and beads, each man poising on either shoulder, and sometimes raising upon the head for rest, packs that resemble huge bolsters, six feet long by two in diameter, cradled in sticks which generally have a forked projection for facility in stacking and reshouldering the load. The sturdiest fellows are usually the lightest loaded in Eastern Africa; as elsewhere, the weakest go to the wall. The maximum of burden may be two farasilah, or seventy pounds avoirdupois. Behind the cloth bearers straggles a long line of porters and slaves laden with the lighter stuff—rhinoceros teeth, hides, salt, tobacco, brass wire, iron hoes, boxes and bags, beds and tents, pots and water gourds, mats, and private stores. With the Pagazi, but in separate parties, march the armed slaves, who are never seen to quit their muskets; the women and the little toddling children, who rarely fail to carry something, be it only of a pound weight; and the asses neatly laden with saddle-bags of giraffe and buffalo hide. A Mganga also universally accompanies the caravan, not disdaining to act as a common porter. The rear is brought up by the master, or the masters, of the caravan, who often remain far behind for the convenience of walking and to prevent desertion.
“All the caravan is habited in its worst attire; the East African derides those who wear upon a journey the cloth which should be reserved for display at home. If rain fall they will doff the single goat-skin hung round their sooty limbs and, folding it up, place it between the shoulders and the load. When grain is served out for a long march, each porter bears his posho or rations fastened like a large ‘bustle’ to the small of his back. Upon this again he sometimes binds, with its legs projecting outwards, the three-legged stool, which he deems necessary to preserve him from the danger of sitting upon the damp ground. As may be imagined, the barbarians have more ornament than dress. Some wear a strip of zebra’s mane bound round the head with the bristly parti-coloured hair standing out like a saint’s gloria, others prefer a long bit of stiffened ox-tail rising like a unicorn’s horn at least a foot above the forehead. Other ornaments are the skins of monkeys and ocelots, roleaus and fillets of white, blue, or scarlet cloth, and huge bunches of ostrich, crane, and jay’s feathers crowning the heads like the tufts of certain fowls. Their arms are decorated with massive ivory bracelets, heavy bangles of brass and copper, and thin circlets of the same metal, beads in strings and bands adorn their necks, and small iron bells strapped below the knee or round the ancle by the more aristocratic. All carry some weapon; the heaviest armed have a bow and a bark quiver full of arrows, two or three long spears and assegais, and a little battle-axe, borne on the shoulder.
“The normal recreations of a march are whistling, singing, shouting, hooting, horning, drumming, imitating the cries of birds and beasts, repeating words which are never used except on journeys. There is gabble enough and abundant squabbling; in fact, perpetual noise, which the ear, however, soon learns to distinguish for the hubbub of a halt. The uproar redoubles near a village where the flag is unfurled and where the line lags to display itself. All give vent to loud shouts: ‘Hopa, hopa! go on, go on—Mgogolo! a stoppage—food, food—don’t be tired—the kraal is here—home is near—hasten, Kirangozi—oh! we see our mothers—we go to eat.’ On the road it is considered prudent, as well as pleasurable, to be as loud as possible, in order to impress upon plunderers an exaggerated idea of the caravan’s strength; for equally good reasons silence is recommended in the kraal. When threatened with attack, and no ready escape suggests itself, the porters ground their loads and prepare for action. It is only self-interest that makes them brave. I have seen a small cow trotting up with tail erect break a line of 150 men carrying goods not their own. If a hapless hare or antelope cross the path, every man casts his pack, brandishes his spear, and starts in pursuit; the animal, never running straight, is soon killed and torn limb from limb, each hunter devouring his morsel raw. When two parties meet, that commanded by an Arab claims the road. If both are Wanyamwezi, violent quarrels ensue; fatal weapons, which are too ready at hand, are turned to more harmless purposes, the bow and spear being used as whip and cudgel. These affrays are not rancorous till blood is shed. Few tribes are less friendly for so trifling an affair as a broken head; even a slight cut, or a shallow stab, is little thought of; but if returned with interest great loss of life may arise from the slenderest cause. When friendly caravans meet, the two Kirangozis sidle up with a stage pace, a stride and a stand, and with sidelong looks prance till arrived within distance, then suddenly and simultaneously ducking, like boys ‘give a back,’ they come to loggerheads and exchange a butt violently as fighting rams. Their example is followed by all with a crush which might be mistaken for the beginning of a faction; but it ends, if there be no bad blood, in shouts of laughter. The weaker body, however, must yield precedence and offer a small present as blackmail.”
After all, however, there is some reason in the African’s objection to be hurried on a march, or to exert himself overmuch in the interests of a traveller, whose private affairs are nothing to him and whom, when discharged, he will in all probability never see again. He does not particularly wish to see him, as he is perfectly comfortable at home. According to the last quoted authority he rises with the dawn from his couch of cow’s-hide. The hut is cool and comfortable during the day; but the barred door, impeding ventilation at night, causes it to be close and disagreeable. The hour before sunrise being the coldest time, he usually kindles a fire and addresses himself to his constant companion the pipe. When the sun becomes sufficiently powerful, he removes the reed-screen from the entrance and issues forth to bask in the morning beams. The villages are populous, and the houses touching one another enable the occupants, when squatting outside and fronting the central square, to chat and chatter without moving. About 7 a.m., when the dew has partially disappeared from the grass, the elder boys drive the flocks and herds to pasture, with loud shouts and sounding applications of the quarter staff. They return only when the sun is sinking behind the western horizon. At 8 p.m. those who have provisions at home enter the hut to refection with ugali or holcus-porridge, those who have not join a friend. Pombe, when procurable, is drunk from the earliest dawn.
After breaking his fast, the African repairs, pipe in hand, to the Iwanza, the village public previously described. Here in the society of his own sex he will spend the greater part of the day talking and laughing, smoking, or torpid with sleep. Occasionally he sits down to play. As with barbarians generally, gambling in him is a passion. The normal game is our “heads and tails,” the implement, a flat stone, a rough circle of tin, or the bottom of a broken pot. The more civilised have learned the “bas” of the coast, a kind of “tables” with counters and cups hollowed in a solid plank. Many of the Wanyamwezi have been compelled by this indulgence to sell themselves into slavery after playing through their property; they even stake their aged mothers against the equivalent of an old lady in these lands,—a cow or a pair of goats. As may be imagined, squabbles are perpetual, they are almost always, however, settled amongst fellow-villagers with bloodless weapons. Others, instead of gambling, seek some employment which, working the hands and leaving the rest of the body and the mind at ease, is ever a favourite with the Asiatic and the African; they whittle wood, pierce and wire their pipe sticks—an art in which all are adepts,—shave one another’s heads, pluck out their beards, eyebrows, and eyelashes, and prepare and polish their weapons.
“At about one p.m., the African, unless otherwise employed, returns to his hut to eat the most substantial and the last meal of the day, which has been cooked by his women. Eminently gregarious, however, he often prefers the Iwanza as a dining room, where his male children, relatives, and friends meet during the most important hour of the twenty-four. With the savage and the barbarian food is the all and all of life, food is his thought by day, food is his dream by night. The civilized European who never knows hunger nor thirst without the instant means of gratifying every whim of appetite, can hardly conceive the extent to which his wild brother’s soul is swayed by stomach; he can scarcely comprehend the state of mental absorption in which the ravenous human animal broods over the carcase of an old goat, the delight which he takes in superintending every part of the cooking process, and the jealous eye with which he regards all who live better than himself. After eating, the East African invariably indulges in a long fit of torpidity from which he awakes to pass the afternoon as he did the forenoon, chatting, playing, smoking, and chewing sweet earth. Towards sunset all issue forth to enjoy the coolness; the men sit outside the Iwanza, whilst the women and the girls, after fetching water for household wants from the well, collecting in a group upon their little stools, indulge in the pleasures of gossiping and the pipe. This hour, in the more favoured parts of the country, is replete with enjoyment. As the hours of darkness draw nigh, the village doors are carefully closed, and after milking his cows, each peasant retires to his hut, or passes his time squatting round the fire with his friends in the Iwanza. He has not yet learned the art of making a wick, and of filling a bit of pottery with oil. When a light is wanted he ignites a stick of the oleaginous msásá-tree—a yellow, hard, close-grained, and elastic wood with few knots, much used in making spears, bows, and walking staves—which burns for a quarter of an hour with a brilliant flame. He repairs to his hard couch before midnight and snores with a single sleep till dawn. For thorough enjoyment, night must be spent in insensibility, as the day is in inebriety, and though an early riser he avoids the ‘early to bed’ in order that he may be able to slumber through half the day.
“Such is the African’s idle day, and thus every summer is spent. As the wintry rains draw nigh, the necessity of daily bread suggests itself. The peasants then leave their huts about six or seven a.m., often without provision which now becomes scarce, and labour till noon or two p.m., when they return home, and find food prepared by the wife or the slave girl. During the afternoon they return to work, and sometimes, when the rains are near, they are aided by the women. Towards sunset all wend homeward in a body, laden with their implements of cultivation, and singing a kind of ‘dulce domum’ in a simple and pleasing recitative.”
Let us conclude this brief sketch of the perils and inconveniences that menace the explorer of savage shores by presenting the reader with a picture of the approach of one of the ships bearing some of the earliest English visitants to the cannibal shores of the Southern Seas:
“Notwithstanding,” says Mr. Ellis, “all our endeavours to induce the natives to approach the ship, they continued for a long time at some distance viewing us with apparent surprise and suspicion. At length one of the canoes, containing two men and a boy, ventured alongside. Perceiving a lobster lying among a number of spears at the bottom of the canoe, I intimated by signs my wish to have it, and the chief readily handed it up. I gave him in return two or three middle-size fish-hooks, which, after examining rather curiously, he gave to the boy, who having no pocket to put them in, or any article of dress to which they might be attached, instantly deposited them in his mouth, and continued to hold with both hands the rope hanging from the ship.
“The principal person in the canoe appeared willing to come on board. I pointed to the rope he was grasping and put out my hand to assist him up the ship’s side. He involuntarily laid hold of it, but could scarcely have felt my grasp when he instantly drew back his hand and raising it to his nostrils smelt at it most significantly as if to ascertain with what kind of being he had come in contact. After a few moments’ pause he climbed over the ship’s side, and as soon as he had reached the deck our captain led him to a chair on the quarter-deck, and pointing to the seat signified his wish that he should be seated. The chief, however, having viewed it for some time, pushed it aside and sat down on the deck. Our captain had been desirous to have the chief aboard that he might ascertain from him whether the island produced sandal-wood, as he was bound to the Marquesas in search of that article. A piece was therefore procured and shown him, with the qualities of which he appeared familiar, for after smelling it and calling it by some name he pointed to the shore.
“While we had been thus engaged, many of the canoes had approached the ship, and when we turned round a number of the natives appeared on deck, and others were climbing over the bulwarks. They were certainly the most savage-looking natives I had ever seen; and these barbarians were as unceremonious as their appearance was uninviting. A gigantic, fierce-looking fellow seized a youth as he was standing by the gangway and endeavoured to lift him over the deck, but the lad struggling escaped from his grasp. He then seized our cabin-boy, but the sailors coming to his assistance and the native finding that he could not disengage him from their hold, pulled his woollen shirt over his head and was about to leap into the sea when he was arrested by the sailors. We had a large ship-dog chained to his kennel on the deck, and although this animal was not only fearless but savage, yet the appearance of the natives seemed to terrify him. One of them caught the dog in his arms and was proceeding over the ship’s side with him, but perceiving him fastened to his kennel by the chain he was obliged to relinquish his prize, evidently much disappointed. He then seized the kennel with the dog in it, when, finding it nailed to the deck, he ceased his attempts to remove it and gazed round the ship in search of some object which he could secure. We had brought from Port Jackson two young kittens; one of these now came up from the cabin, but she no sooner made her appearance on the deck, than a native, springing like a tiger on its prey, caught up the unconscious animal and instantly leaped over the ship’s side into the sea. Hastening to the side of the deck I looked over the bulwarks and beheld him swimming rapidly towards a canoe which lay about fifty yards from the ship. As soon as he had reached this canoe, holding the cat with both hands, he exhibited it to his companions with evident exultation.
“Orders were given to clear the ship. A general scuffle ensued between the islanders and the seamen, in which many of the former were driven headlong into the sea, where they seemed as much at home as on solid ground; while others clambered over the vessel’s sides into their canoes. In the midst of the confusion and the retreating of the natives the dog, which had hitherto slunk into his kennel, recovered his usual boldness and not only increased the consternation by his barking, but severely tore the leg of one of the fugitives who was hastening out of the ship near the spot where he was chained. The decks were now cleared; but as many of the people still hung about the shrouds and chains the sailors drew the long knives with which, when among the islands, they were furnished, and by menacing gestures, without wounding any, succeeded in detaching them altogether from the ship. Some of them seemed quite unconscious of the keenness of the knife, and I believe had their hands deeply cut by snatching at the blades.”
Boatmen of Rockingham Bay.
The True Word expounded to a Potentate of Western Africa.