We marched steadily for nearly three hours, and then, selecting a suitable spot, camped on the river-bank. En route we noticed several stone cairns, which on inquiry I learnt were the burial-places of the Rendili. Unlike the Wakamba, A’kikuyu, and Masai, they do not leave their dead or dying relatives outside their villages, to the tender mercies of the hyænas. They, on the contrary, dig a hole in the ground, in which the corpse is placed in a sitting position. Stones are then piled over the body till a cairn is formed, and finally a spear is placed upright on the summit. In view of the utter dissimilarity between the Rendili and the ordinary negro, and the lack of definite information concerning their origin, it is to my mind a curious coincidence at least that they should bury their dead in almost precisely the same manner as the people who at one time inhabited the banks of the Nile in Upper Egypt.[16]
I remember hearing in Cairo, in the early part of 1899, that Professor Flinders Petrie had unearthed some graves which were supposed to be those of a people so ancient as to be unacquainted with the use of metals, and who buried their dead in a sitting position, afterwards covering them by inverting a large earthen jar over the body and then filling up the grave. These facts, taken in conjunction with Mr. Seton Karr’s discovery of flint implements in Somaliland resembling, I believe, those discovered by Professor Petrie in Egypt may, in the hands of an antiquarian, throw an interesting light on the antecedents of this remarkable people. It would be interesting indeed could it be shown that the Rendili are the modern representatives of the primitive race who manufactured clay pottery and worked in flint on the banks of the Nile before the pyramids were built.
When we had constructed a boma for the sheep, George and I went down to bathe in the Waso Nyiro, a feat we successfully accomplished to the accompaniment of the usual eccentric dance on account of the leeches.
In the evening a young Somali, named Barri, came into camp. He wished to return to Nairobi with us, and as he was not bound to Ismail in any way, not receiving any pay, we consented to his doing so. He was, indeed, a small trader on his own account, and with a couple of cattle had accompanied Ismail in order to try to exchange them for two tusks. This purpose he had not been able to carry out. He therefore sold them to some of the other Somalis who accompanied Ismail’s caravan on the same conditions as himself, and, unknown to Ismail, proposed to return to Nairobi with us. We did not know at the time that Ismail was unaware of the proposed change, and as Barri had formerly been a personal servant of El Hakim’s, and a very good man, we gave him permission to accompany us on condition that he made himself useful.
Before sunrise on the following morning, Barri went away from camp to try to procure some fresh milk for us at an isolated Burkeneji village some little distance away. He borrowed my Martini and half a dozen cartridges, as he had no more ammunition for his own weapon, a carbine of Italian manufacture, and set out. An hour later, as we were preparing to start on our march, Ismail Robli, who had travelled all night, accompanied by a strong party of Somalis, all fully armed, strode into our camp. He stated, none too politely, that most of his remaining porters had deserted, and he had reason to believe that they were accompanying our safari. Ignoring his discourtesy, we politely informed him that such was not the case, nor had we seen his men; but if it would in any way ease his mind he had our permission to look through the camp. He proceeded to do so, and of course found no traces of his missing porters.
In the meanwhile Barri was returning with the milk he had purchased, and was approaching the camp, all unconscious of this new aspect of affairs. He was sighted by two of Ismail’s armed guards, who, slipping cartridges into their Sniders, rushed towards him, demanding his instant surrender on pain of death. Barri’s reply, more forcible than polite, was a shot from the Martini, which sent them helter-skelter to the cover of the nearest bush. From that comparatively safe position they held a parley with him, under cover of which they sought an opportunity of shooting at him. He, however, was aware of their amiable intentions, and, standing with his rifle at the ready, threatened to shoot the first man who raised his weapon. One of them tried it, but Barri instantly fired, which, though he missed his man, effectually stopped any further attempt at such treachery.
Ismail, busily searching for his absent porters, heard the shots, and, momentarily desisting from his search, rushed out of camp to see what was the matter. Fifty yards away he saw Barri with uplifted rifle covering the two Somalis, who were cowering behind the bush. If ever I saw murder written on a man’s face, I saw it then on Ismail’s, and remembering what he was capable of, I went after him, followed by El Hakim and George. Ismail was carrying a 12-bore shot-gun loaded with ball cartridges, and as he ran at Barri he unslung the weapon from his shoulder. Barri turned in the nick of time, and without a second’s hesitation fired point-blank at him. Ismail collapsed into a writhing heap on the ground, while Barri turned and fled with the speed of a deer into the surrounding bush.
These events happened in such rapid succession that we had no time to interfere and prevent the catastrophe, as we were only just outside the camp when Ismail fell. Of the two Somalis who had brought Barri to bay, one followed him, but, apparently very half-heartedly, he soon returned, and the other ran to assist Ismail. That swashbuckler and would-be assassin had struggled into a sitting position, and was groaning with great vigour, punctuating his howls at intervals with supplications to Allah, mingled with bitter curses on the head of his assailant. We immediately examined him to ascertain the extent of his injuries. He had sustained a nasty flesh-wound on the inside of his right leg a few inches above the ankle. The bullet had cut away the flesh and laid bare the bone, but fortunately had not fractured it. El Hakim dressed and bound the wound, while I superintended the construction of a litter in which Ismail could be conveyed to his own camp.
His removal took place soon after midday. El Hakim accompanied him to his camp, and, on arriving there, again dressed the wound, returning to our own camp late in the evening. Ismail’s wound was by no means serious, and would be quite well in a week or so, and as many of his porters had deserted, he seemed inclined to accompany us back to Kenia, and we decided, therefore, to make very short marches for the next few days, primarily in order that Ismail could communicate with us if necessary, and secondly, to gradually accustom the sheep to marching in preparation for their long tramp to Nairobi.
We did not pity Ismail in the least, as neither he nor any of his men had a right to threaten Barri or in any way to control his movements, and, in addition, I had ocular evidence that Barri had acted purely in self-defence. Nevertheless, knowing that Ismail’s safari was now numerically very weak, and the Wa’Embe, as already stated, were in communication with the Burkeneji, we were strongly disinclined to abandon his safari to perhaps further misfortune. This feeling, I must admit, did not extend to Ismail personally, as he had shown himself to be a vacillating bully, and a man of evil passions, which at times entirely mastered him. But he had still some forty or fifty porters who deserved a better fate, and in addition, a mishap to one safari naturally mischievously affected any other which happened to be in the district at or near the same time.