An ivory trader in North Kenia

by A. Arkell-Hardwick

The price of a good “soben” (ewe) was six makono of cloth, or about one and a half yards; but the market was not very brisk, as there was such a great amount of haggling to be gone through before the bargain could be considered satisfactorily completed. A man would bring round an old ram and demand a piece of cloth. When I gently intimated that I required a “soben,” he would scowl disgustedly and retire. In a few minutes he would be back again, dragging by the hind leg a female goat, and demand the piece of cloth once more. An animated discussion on the difference between a sheep and a goat would follow; my prospective customer maintaining that for all practical purposes a female goat and a female sheep were identical, while I contended that if that was the case he might as well bring me a sheep, as under those circumstances it would make no difference to him, and I myself had a, doubtless unreasonable, preference for sheep. Finally a very sick and weedy-looking ewe would be brought, and again the same discussion would go merrily on. I would not give the full price for a bad specimen, and my customer would persist that it was, beyond a doubt, the very best sheep that was ever bred—in fact, the flower of his flock. “Soben kitock” (a very large sheep) he would observe emphatically, with a semicircular wave of his arm round the horizon. I would point out that in my humble opinion it was by no means a “soben kitock” by shaking my head gravely, and observing that it was “mate soben kitock.” Finally he would bring a slightly better animal, and I would then hand over the full price, together with a pinch of tobacco or a few beads as a luck-penny. I returned to camp the next morning, having bought about a dozen sheep. In this manner we spent some days buying sheep. It was very tiring work, but I varied the monotony by building a large hut, heavily thatched with the fan-shaped leaves of the Doum palm. It was open at both ends, and served as a capital council chamber and market house.

There was a great demand for iron wire, and El Hakim and I discussed the advisability of my journeying up the Waso Nyiro to a spot two days’ march beyond the “Green Camp,” where El Hakim had some twenty loads of iron wire buried. We eventually decided that it was not worth while, and the matter dropped.

Some days after our arrival among the Rendili, Ismail Robli came into our camp, bowed almost to the ground with grief. His tale was truly pitiful in its awful brevity. I have mentioned the party of eighty of his men whom we had met five days up the Waso Nyiro, and who had lent us a guide to bring us to the Rendili. It appeared that after they left us they lost their way somewhere on the northern borders of Embe, and were three or four days without water. Eventually they found some pools, at which they drank, and then, completely exhausted, laid down to sleep. While they slept, the Wa’embe, who had observed them from the hills, descended, and, taking them by surprise, pounced upon them and literally cut them to pieces. Only sixteen men, who had rifles, escaped; the rest, numbering sixty-four in all, being ruthlessly massacred. We were horrified at the news; and as for Ismail, he seemed completely prostrated.

As a result of the massacre, he had not nearly enough men remaining to carry his loads, and he was therefore compelled to considerably alter his plans. He now intended to buy camels from the Rendili, and thus make up his transport department.

We were really grieved about the men, but felt no pity for Ismail, because, as we took care to point to him, if he had only gone back to Embe with us after our first reverse, we should have so punished the Wa’embe as to have precluded the possibility of such a terrible massacre. As it was, the unfortunate occurrence was the very worst thing that could have happened for all of us, as such a signal success would without a doubt set all North Kenia in a ferment, which would probably culminate on our return in an organized attack by all the tribes dwelling in the district. The surmise proved to be only too well founded, and, as will be seen, it was only by the most vigorous measures on our part on the return to M’thara that the danger was averted.

As it was no use worrying ourselves at the moment over what might happen in the future, we once more turned our attention to our immediate concerns. El Hakim thought it possible that there might be elephants down the river, and I agreed that it would be a better speculation for me to go down-stream on the chance of meeting them, leaving El Hakim to buy the rest of the sheep, than to occupy a fortnight in journeying up the river after the twenty loads of iron wire, which might possibly have been dug up by Wandorobbo in the mean time.

On the following day Ismail Robli came to see us again, bringing with him a present of a little tea, and a little, very little, salt. The object of his visit was to get me to write a letter for him to his partner in Nairobi. I insert it as I received it from his lips, as an object lesson in the difficulties encountered even by native caravans in the search for ivory.

“Waso Nyiro, August 26th, 1900.

“To Elmi Fahier, Nairobi.

“Greeting.