The weather now changed considerably for the worse, the fine, clear, sunny weather of the Waso Nyiro being succeeded by heavy rains and cold winds. These rains were nearly two months late, and the inhabitants of M’thara were half starving in consequence; but they came now with a vengeance, though they were too late to do any good to the bean crop. Day after day we endured a steady downpour, which killed off the sheep by twos and threes every night. Of the men whom we had sent to buy food in Munithu, half returned two days later. They reported that Bei-Munithu had refused to sell any food, though he had more than plenty, and he had also refused to give up the loads still in his possession. Furthermore, he had secretly planned to attack them during the night and put them to death. They had, however, received timely warning from a friendly native, and so escaped; some of them coming back to us, and the remainder going on to Zura to see how matters stood at that place.
A strange Swahili accompanied them. He had been one of Dr. Kolb’s porters, and had been left behind, sick, at Munithu. He asked permission to return to Nairobi with us, which we readily granted. He also confirmed the news of Bei-Munithu’s hostility, and his statements threw light on several little matters which had puzzled us. It now seemed more than probable that the whole of the G’nainu affair had been planned by that old rascal in conjunction with the Wa’gnainu, which would explain why those people were so completely prepared for us on the morning when we went into their country to demand our trade goods; and why they opened the attack without listening to what we had to say.
This Swahili was a peculiar-looking man, as at some time or other the end of his nose had been bitten off by a hyæna. The voracious brute had actually dashed up to where he was sleeping with other men round a fire, and, seizing him, had tried to drag him away. His companions awoke at his cries, and drove his assailant off with fire-brands. When the hyæna seized him, it had bitten his face and taken the end of his nose clean off. When rescued, he searched for and found the piece, and, sticking it on again, he secured it with a length of hair or fibre, which he passed over it and tied at the back of his head; however, the piece slipped and finally grew on to his face an inch to the left of its proper position, so that he had one nostril complete and in its right place, while the other grew apparently out of his cheek. He still kept the piece of fibre tied round it, and could not be induced to remove it, though the piece of nose was firmly united to his cheek. El Hakim offered to perform an operation in plastic surgery and replace it in its rightful position, but he steadfastly refused, and El Hakim did not press the point. This man turned out to be a very good drover, and rendered valuable service in that way on our march down country after leaving M’thara.
On the 18th October, after six days’ continuous downpour, the rain ceased for a couple of days. Thirty of the sheep had succumbed, and the others were very sick, as a large number of them were suffering from the effects of the unaccustomed exposure. As the men who had gone on to Zura had not returned, we sent Jumbi with several men to see what had become of them. We were very anxious to leave M’thara, but we could not venture round West Kenia without a supply of food in hand, as game might be scarce. The camp already commenced to smell very badly, as the rain had soddened the earth and converted it into a bog. The quantity of meat drying in the smoke of the fires was already six days old, and though it was relished by the men, we ourselves found the effluvia offensive.
During our stay large numbers of natives came into camp for medicine to cure the ulcers caused by “chiggers.” The chigger (Pulex penetrans) is a species of flea which is in the habit of selecting the sole of the foot or the flesh under the toe-nails as a place of residence. Once safely ensconced under the skin, the female chigger proceeds to lay large numbers of eggs, which are disposed in the form of a round bag, the size of a pea. The irritation produces a troublesome ulcer, amidst which the young larvæ appear. Some of the natives of M’thara had lost many of their toes through these pests. It was especially sad to see the little children with their feet horribly lacerated, who were brought into camp for treatment by their despairing mothers. Under El Hakim’s direction, I made a large quantity of ointment by mixing iodoform and powdered boric acid with hippo fat, and this was freely dispensed among the sufferers, their expressions of gratitude amply repaying us for any trouble we incurred in relieving them. I myself had been crippled for three weeks on one occasion by chiggers, and was therefore in a position to feel for the unfortunate wretches.
An “elkonono,” or native blacksmith, came into camp one day, and we got him to manufacture a few knives and ornaments for us from iron which we provided. He took up his quarters, together with a couple of his wives, in a shelter which we had built for the mules. His tools were very simple, consisting merely of a flat stone for an anvil, and a piece of round bar iron, 1½ inches in diameter and about 8 inches in length, slightly flattened at one end, which formed his hammer. He also possessed a very crude pair of iron pincers.
His forge, which was fed with charcoal, was formed by a hole in the ground, into which the air was forced from bellows through a short pipe of baked clay. The bellows consisted of a couple of goatskins with a clay nozzle at one end. The other end was open, the sides being sewn to two flat pieces of wood, to which small straps were attached. One of the blacksmith’s wives thrust her fingers through these straps, and, opening her hand and at the same time raising her arm, she filled the goatskin with air. The hand was then closed and the goatskin sharply compressed by a downward stroke of the forearm, and the air contained in it was driven out of the nozzle through the clay pipe into which it was inserted, and so into the glowing charcoal. She worked a bellows with each hand alternately, thus providing an almost continuous draught.
Our “elkonono” set to work and toiled away for three days “from rosy morn till dewy eve,” and at the end of that time had manufactured two knives and a couple of ornaments. We asked him if it was not rather slow work, and to our great disgust he remarked, “Yes, it is true I have not made much for you, but” (proudly) “I have made knives for all your children!”
On inquiry we found that whenever our backs were turned, our porters had gone to the “elkonono” either to have a knife made or repaired, and as a result he had done ten times more work for them than he had for us, though we were paying him and he was using our material. Our simple “elkonono,” however, professed ignorance, saying that he thought that in doing these little jobs for “our children” he was serving us; which might or might not have been the truth.
A deputation from the Wa’Chanjei came into camp on the 17th of October. They came ostensibly on a friendly visit, but really to see how the land lay. After they had spent an hour or two in our camp, they evidently came to the conclusion that we were quite able to take care of ourselves, and politely and silently withdrew.