El Hakim and I resigned ourselves to a night of discomfort, and crouched down over the miserable spark we dignified by the name of a fire. An hour later a solitary porter struggled into our midst, and, lo and behold, he carried the fly-sheet of the tent. We hastily uncorded it, and found the tent-pegs rolled up inside; these were at once sacrificed for firewood, and we soon had a moderate blaze going. Then Ramathani discovered some pieces of raw meat among the cooking utensils, the remains of a sheep we had killed two days before. We very soon had them out, and cutting them into chunks, toasted them in the frying-pan, which formed a nourishing though somewhat indiarubber-like meal. El Hakim then spread the canvas fly-sheet out on the ground, and we both crept under it and tried to forget our discomfort in sleep.
The gale blew with great violence all night, blowing our protecting fly-sheet up at the corners, and sending an icy draught up our trouser-legs in a most disagreeable manner; so that, altogether, we were unfeignedly thankful when the first grey streaks that heralded the dawn appeared in the eastern heavens.
We arose and stretched our stiff and frozen limbs, and calling up the few men who, huddled to the leeward of the animals, resembled so many corpses under their scanty linen cloths, we started for our camp at Mathara, which, having struck the right path, we reached in an hour.
George had not yet risen, but, hearing our arrival, wrapped himself in a blanket and came out of his tent. I was very disagreeably surprised at his appearance. He was quite yellow and very thin and haggard, the effect of a severe attack of fever, which, coupled with anxiety on our account and differences with the Wa’Mathara in camp, had given him a very bad time indeed. He looked more like a ghost than a living being, but “all’s well that ends well,” and our arrival safe and sound contributed in no small degree to his speedy recovery. The Wa’Mathara, it appeared, had again been up to their old trick of surrounding the camp with armed men, and on one occasion they had actually attacked some of our camp followers while on their way to the stream for water. In fact, George was compelled to get up from his bed, where he lay racked with fever, and, seizing his rifle, sally forth accompanied by four or five men in order to drive off the enemy, who, however, fled at his approach without further hostilities.
We now commenced preparations for our move northward to the Waso Nyiro River, selecting what trade goods and cattle we should require, intending to leave the balance with N’Dominuki. Food had also to be bought and packed into loads, as, after leaving Mathara, there were no other cultivated districts in the direction we intended to travel, and we should have to depend for sustenance entirely upon the food we were able to carry with us, and on any game we might be able to shoot. An inventory of the contents of our food-boxes showed that there was no reserve salt, and beyond an ounce or two in use, there was absolutely none in the safari. I mentioned the disconcerting fact to El Hakim, but he consoled me with the assurance that we should certainly be able to obtain salt at a crater, marked N’gomba on the map, a little to the south of the Waso Nyiro and due north of the Jombeni Mountains. Our supply of English flour was also finished, and we were then living on the native M’wele and Metama.
In the afternoon I took a rifle, and, leaving camp, struck in a northerly direction in search of game. Crossing the thorn forest, I came out on to a gravelly highland, covered with thorn scrub, and here and there isolated Morio trees. Underfoot a few small aloes with red flowers grew in the patches of earth between the blocks of white quartz plentifully bestrewn everywhere.
The Morio (Acocanthera Schimperi) is a curious-looking tree with its bare stem, averaging about six feet in height, formed of several thin stems twisted round each other after the manner of a vine. Surmounting the bare stem is a spherical crown of leaves, giving it the appearance of those little toy trees supplied to children in Noah’s arks. It has a small leaf and small pink-and-white flowers, which have a delightful scent. The A’kikuyu and Wa’Ndorobo use the distilled sap of the roots for poisoning their arrows. It is also used by the Somalis for that purpose combined with the sap of another variety of the same species (Acocanthera Ouabaio) which grows in the Arl mountains of northern Somaliland. The resultant poison is the celebrated “Wabaio” of the Somalis. No other plant or tree will grow near the Morio, consequently they are met with only in little groups or as isolated specimens.
About two miles from camp I reached a small stony hill. On the summit I discovered a small rudely constructed fort, built of flat stones, containing small huts of stone roofed with brushwood. It faced to the north, and I afterwards found that it was used by the A’kikuyu as a watch-tower when expecting a Rendili raid. From the top of this fort I obtained a good view of the surrounding country. To the north the ground sloped away in a long incline to the Waso Nyiro, the bed of which lies more than a thousand feet lower than M’thara at the point in its course due north at that place. Beyond the Guaso Nyiro showed dimly the shadowy outlines of Mounts Lololokwe and Wargasse, 7750 feet and 10,830 feet in height respectively. Further away to the north and east lay the desolate sandy wastes of Samburu or Galla-land.
To the north-east beyond the Doenyo lol Deika (a hog-backed ridge 6200 feet above sea-level) the great plateau of Lykipia stretched as far as the highlands of Kamasia and Elgeyo. At the foot of the Kamasia highlands lies Lake Baringo, distant a hundred and twenty miles, the southern end of which is inhabited by the Wakwafi of Nyemps. Fifteen miles south of Baringo is Lake Hannington, discovered by, and named after, the late Bishop Hannington, who was murdered by the natives of Usoga in 1885. The water of this lake is lukewarm, and, being impregnated with mineral salts, is very bitter. The Lykipia Plateau is terminated on the north by the Loroghi Mountains, and on its eastern side by the Elgeyo escarpment, which, together with its southern continuation, the Mau escarpment, forms part of the eastern wall of the great “fault” in the earth’s crust which extends from the sea of Galilee, over 33° north of the Equator, down the valley of the Jordan, thence down the Red Sea, and southward through North-Eastern Africa to Lake Tanganyika, 10° south of the line, and which is known to geographers as the Great Rift Valley.
South-west of my point of vantage rose the lofty peak of Kenia, veiled as usual by its curtain of cloud. To the south-east, and on the eastern side of Kenia, lay the route we had just traversed, extending through M’thara, Munithu, Zura, Moravi, Igani, Wuimbe, Zuka, and M’bu back to Maranga on the Tana River. The first stage of our journey was safely accomplished. Who could tell what Fate had in store for us in the unknown regions to the northward?