We left Karanjui early next morning and re-entered the forest belt, the second part of which we were not quite three-quarters of an hour in crossing. The character of the country now changed considerably, the dense bush and coarse, rank vegetation of east Kenia giving way to open plains with small rocky hills scattered here and there. The level of the country now descends slightly, M’thara being situated about 4500 feet above sea-level, 200 feet less than Munithu. To our right rose the succession of rounded prominences known as Chanjai, which are inhabited by a tribe who, though really A’kikuyu, show many marked Masai characteristics. They are warlike and treacherous. In front, some miles away, rose the frowning heights of the Jombeni range, inhabited by the Wa’Embe, with whom we were shortly destined to become better acquainted. On the slopes, at the foot of the Jombeni Mountains, and to westward of them, reside the Wa’Mthara people, who gave Mr. Chanler[3] so much trouble when he visited Kenia in 1893, and to whom we were making our way.
We were now about 4500 feet above sea-level, and not more than ten miles north of the Equator. The heat during the day was very great, varying from 100° to 110° Fahr., but a cold north wind blew in the evening and during the night, and the temperature dropped to about 60°, a variation which made an overcoat comfortable after sundown. The ground was of a gravelly nature, and cultivated only in patches. We had said good-bye at Karanjui to all the shady forest trees, coniferæ, etc., which were replaced by the inhospitable thorny acacia or umbrella thorn, and farther north, the Doum palm, which two were henceforth to be our constant companions. The men all turned to and made themselves sandals, it being impossible to walk barefoot where the umbrella thorn flourishes. The thorns are white, several inches long, and wonderfully sharp. They stick out from the branch in all directions, so that when a twig is broken off by the wind or any other cause, the fallen twig lying on the ground resembles a miniature chevaux de frise, as some of the spines are always pointing upwards, lying in wait for the bare foot of the unwary.
The chief of M’thara is an old man named N’Dominuki. In his youth he had a great reputation as a warrior, and was commonly credited with the slaughter at various times of thirty-five men with his own spear. It is uncertain whether he joined in the attack on Mr. Chanler’s expedition; at any rate, no mention is made of him by name in that explorer’s book; his first appearance in print being in Neumann’s book,[4] he being a great friend of Neumann’s, having, in fact, made blood-brotherhood with him. Neumann had had a very large experience of natives, and soon reckoned up Mr. N’Dominuki. At the outset of their acquaintance, he very plainly intimated to that worthy that friendship and fair dealing with the white man would certainly pay, and, on the other hand, treachery and hostility would as certainly not. N’Dominuki, being no longer in the first flush of youth, was old enough and wise enough to take the hint, and as will be seen, he was by far the most honest and trustworthy old savage that we ever had dealings with. He had a very great admiration for his blood-brother Neumann. On one occasion he told us that Neumann was “a very good white man, he always spoke the truth, and he told me that other white men who might come here would treat me well if I were friendly to them and gave them food and guides; and it is even as he said. I have always spoken truly and helped the white men, and, behold, now I am a rich man.”
El Hakim had had dealings with N’Dominuki on several occasions previously, and was very friendly with the old chief, who had a number of cattle belonging to him in his charge. El Hakim seemed to have cattle and trade goods scattered all over North Kenia in charge of various natives. He had also a score or so of loads of brass, copper, and iron wire buried on the Waso Nyiro. I mentally likened El Hakim’s head to Aladdin’s lamp. If we wanted cattle or cloth or wire, El Hakim would, metaphorically speaking, rub his head, and lo! after a moment’s cogitation, he would announce that buried in such and such a spot a few days’ march away, or in charge of such and such chief not far distant, were the identical articles we required.
We reached an acacia forest at 10 a.m. Inside, about half a mile from the border, was a clearing somewhat resembling Karanjui, in which we pitched our camp. An hour or so afterwards old N’Dominuki himself, hearing of our arrival, came down and welcomed us warmly. The Somalis had not yet arrived, they apparently having diverged at Karanjui to Chanjai. N’Dominuki confirmed the news of the mishap to Noor Adam’s safari, and was curious to know what steps we intended taking. We did not satisfy his curiosity, not wishing to express an opinion until we had heard all the available evidence. The old chief stayed with us until the evening, then withdrew to his village, promising to return on the morrow with his people and bring us food. The old man was at one time the paramount chief of the turbulent Wa’Mthara, but with increasing age his power had gradually weakened, so that he now exercised complete control only over his own village and the people living immediately around. His influence, however, was still appreciable, and his knowledge of passing events absolute.
Our camp we found most inconveniently windy. A strong gale blew night and day, and made things very uncomfortable. The tents had to be fastened down very firmly and additional guy-ropes rigged, and even then they thrashed and shook in a most alarming manner, threatening every moment to blow bodily away. It was when we sat down to meals, however, that the real fun began. The aluminium plates were now and again whirled right off the table by a sudden fierce gust, and disappeared in the grass many yards away. The cups were kept down by the weight of the liquid in them, but one would sometimes forget the saucer for a moment when lifting the cup to one’s lips. Away would go the saucer on the wings of the wind, upsetting a bottle or something, in its hasty flight. In the confusion which ensued, the half-poised cup would be tilted a trifle and some of the contents spilt, which would be instantly dissipated in a fine spray, drenching the unfortunate person who happened to be to leeward. We were annoyed until the humour of the situation struck us; but even then we got tired of it however, and put the table inside El Hakim’s tent, and there the thrashing of the tent prevented conversation except we shouted at the very top of our voices.
We decided to stay at M’thara for some days, as we wished to purchase an adequate supply of food for the safari before going into the inhospitable uninhabited wastes northward. There was also the Embe affair to be settled one way or another. We were sadly inconvenienced by this trouble in Embe, as we had intended going through that country on our way to the Waso Nyiro. It is very rich in food, and we should have been able to get a much greater quantity there than we could hope for in M’thara; and again, the Embe route would have shortened our journey over the desert to the Waso Nyiro by at least two days. However, the Wa’Embe, always a sullen and treacherous people, were now actively hostile; their hostility towards the Somalis would be extended to us, as natives do not discriminate between one safari and another in matters of this kind. Another factor which influenced our deliberations was, that if no steps were taken to punish the brutal and unprovoked attack on Noor Adam’s safari, we should be in a position of some personal danger. With these natives, as with all others, and sometimes even among civilized peoples, a policy of “masterly inactivity” is an acknowledgment of weakness. These savages are civil to a safari only in direct proportion to their idea of its power of reprisal. Once it enters their heads that they are the stronger, that safari is in imminent danger of attack, and would need a very resolute defence, backed with a large quantity of ammunition, to prevent its extirpation.
If that were the worst we had to fear, we could have afforded to let matters go, as we need not have gone near Embe; but all the neighbouring tribes had been closely watching events. If we failed to restore in some way our lost prestige, we should have all the natives, even those who were at present our friends, down on us also, and in that case we should be in a very awkward predicament. It is not often that these natives get a chance to plunder a caravan which, to them, seems to be laden with incalculable riches. When I say our lost prestige, I say precisely what I mean, for, as I have previously remarked, these ignorant savages do not discriminate between one safari and another, whether it is European, Arab, or Swahili; and neither do they wish to.
The combined Somali safaris reached M’thara at midday on the day following our arrival. They proceeded to camp near us with much noise of shouting and blowing of “barghums” (kudu-horn trumpets). It was amusing to see the enthusiastic greetings between our respective porters. Friends long separated vehemently embraced each other amid cries of “Yambo” (greeting), with loudly shouted inquiries as to each other’s health. For instance, Jumbi recognized a distant relative among the crowd of the Somali porters, who, at the same instant, recognized him. They rushed into each other’s arms, then vigorously shook hands. “Yambo,” said Jumbi, and the other answering “Yambo!” they again shook hands. Once more Jumbi said “Yambo,” and was again answered “Yambo.” They embraced again; “Yambo sana,” continued Jumbi. “Yambo sana,” answered the other once more. They embraced yet again. “Yambo sana sana,” again said Jumbi. “Yambo sana sana,” answered the other; and so they continued for quite five minutes, interrupted only by intervals of embracing and handshaking. As they were only one couple out of many, the noise may be faintly imagined.
As soon as the Somalis had built their boma and put their camp in order, we received a message to the effect that they were coming to visit us. Soon afterwards they came over in great state. Arrayed in all the dignity of snow-white turbans and flowing robes, beautifully coloured vests richly embroidered with gold, praying-beads of amber, sandalwood or ebony in hand, and decorated with numerous watch-chains and jewelled charms, they presented a most picturesque appearance. Jamah Mahomet alone wore European clothes. He was in khaki serge with puttees to match, and wore a double “Terai” hat. He had been in the service of the Government, and had also accompanied Mr. Cavendish on his late expedition through Somaliland to Lake Rudolph. He was a tall, sinewy, well-set-up man with clean-cut, regular features, extremely intelligent, thoroughly trustworthy, honourable, polite, and hospitable—a man whom it was really a pleasure to meet. He was about thirty years of age.