THE CAMP AT MARANGA.
BUYING FOOD AT MARANGA. (See page [54].)
As soon as we had breakfasted, we went about the important business of marketing. Maranga, as is Kikuyu generally, is extraordinarily rich and fertile. All kinds of grain are exceedingly plentiful. Among those brought to us for sale were millet (Panicum Italicum), called by the natives “metama;” Pennisetum spicatum, known as “mwele,” a seed resembling linseed, which grows on a close spike like a bulrush flower; Eleusine corocana, known as “uimbe;” and “muhindi,” or “dhurra” (maize). A large variety of edible roots is also cultivated, the most common being “viazi” (sweet potatoes), “vikwer” (yams), and “mahogo” (manioc). Sugar-cane was very largely grown, and is known to the natives as “mewa.” The stalks of metama, which are called “kota,” are also chewed by the natives on account of the sweetish sap. The half-grown stalks of the same plant are known as “metama m’tindi.” “N’dizi” (bananas) are also extensively cultivated, but we never ate any, as they are never allowed to ripen. The natives pluck them while they are green and hard, and roast them in hot ashes. When cooked they have the appearance and taste of a floury potato, though with a slightly astringent flavour. Wild honey was procurable in moderate quantities. It is called “assala,” evidently derived from the Arabic word for the same substance, “assal.” The Masai name for honey is “naischu,” the word generally used in Kikuyu. At certain seasons of the year the staple diet of the natives is “kundu” (beans), of which we saw two varieties, viz. “maragua,” a small white bean like a haricot, and “baazi,” a black bean which grows in pods on a small tree like a laburnum. They also grow several kinds of gourds, named respectively “mumunye,” which resembles a vegetable marrow in size and appearance, “kitoma,” a small, round kind, and “tikiti,” a small water-melon. It will be observed that we did not lack variety.
We bought large quantities of m’wele, which our Swahilis at first refused to eat: they said it was “chickens’ food.” They knew better afterwards. We also procured some “mazewa” (fresh milk) for ourselves. Food was comparatively cheap. A “makono” of cloth or a handful of beads bought several “kibabas” of grain or beans. A kibaba equals about a pint. The term “makono” (meaning, literally, a hand) is applied to the measure of the forearm from the tip of the elbow to the end of the second finger, generally about eighteen inches. Four makono equal one “doti” (about two yards), and twenty-five yards or so make a “jora” or “piece” of cloth.
The beads most in demand were the small red Masai beads known as “sem-sem.” We did not part with any wire, as we wanted it for the districts farther north.
George and I went out in the forenoon to try and shoot hippo in the Sagana, which was only an hour’s walk from the camp. On reaching a likely pool, I sat down on the bank to watch. George had turned very sick again on the way, and laid down under a shady tree. I shot two hippo in the water, but they sank, and though I sent men down the river to watch the shallows, I never saw any more of them.
There were a lot of guinea-fowl about, so I sent back to camp for my shot-gun. George was feeling so queer that he went back also. When my gun arrived, I had a good time among the guinea-fowl, securing eight in an hour or so. I also got a partridge, which turned up in a—for it—inopportune moment.
When I got back to camp, I found that El Hakim had been highly successful in his marketing, and had obtained a large quantity of food, mostly mwele, muhindi, and some viazi. For our own consumption we had laid in a stock of muhindi cobs, maragua beans, and some butter. The butter was snow-white, but, being made from curdled milk, was very acid and unpalatable.
The natives always drink their milk sour; they do not understand our preference for fresh milk. Another thing that tends to make their milk unpopular with European travellers is the dirty state of the vessels it is kept in. They are made from gourds which have had the inside cleaned out by the simple process of burning it out with hot ashes, which gives the milk a nasty charred flavour. The finished milk vessel is called a “kibuyu.” I have been told that they stir the freshly drawn milk with a charred stick from the fire, to preserve it, but I never saw it done. The Masai especially are very bad offenders in this respect. The old women who milk the cows invariably wash out the empty vessels with another fluid from the same animal, certainly never intended by nature for that purpose. If the milk is intended for sale to the “wasungu” (white men), it is more often than not adulterated in the same nauseous manner.