The natives of British Central Africa

by Alice Werner

Measurements in square miles convey little or nothing to my mind, as a rule, and I shall abstain as far as possible from inflicting them on the reader; but it may as well be noted here that the area of the Protectorate is estimated at 40,980.

West of the territory thus defined, and between the Zambezi and the upper waters of the Congo, lies a vast region known officially as North-east Rhodesia, and reaching up to the south end of Lake Tanganika. We shall have something to say about the tribes living in this part of the country; some of them, indeed, are identical with those in the Protectorate proper; but it is with the latter that we shall chiefly have to do.

We have seen that British Central Africa is a land of lakes and rivers; it is a land of mountains also. ‘Before the discovery of Lake Ng’ami and the well-watered country in which the Makololo dwell,’ said Livingstone, ‘the idea prevailed that a large part of the interior of Africa consisted of sandy deserts into which rivers ran and were lost.’ His great journey of 1852-56 dispelled this idea, and ‘the peculiar form of the continent was then ascertained to be an elevated plateau, somewhat depressed in the centre, and with fissures in the sides by which the rivers escaped to the sea.’ The great lakes all lie on this central plateau, and the rivers which drain them to the sea escape over its edge in the cataracts which for so many centuries, by interrupting navigation, have prevented the exploration of the interior. The Zambezi first throws itself into a huge crack in the earth in the Victoria Falls, and afterwards, between Zumbo and Tete, come the Kebrabasa Rapids.

Lake Nyasa is a narrow trough, 360 miles long, between mountain-ranges which hem it in closely on the west (sending down, during the rains, innumerable small torrents from their steep slopes), and retreat somewhat from it on the east, leaving room for a few larger, but still inconsiderable streams, such as the Songwe, the Rukuru, the Bua, and one or two more. The Shiré is the lake’s only outlet, flowing through a level alluvial valley (something like a delta reversed) till, a little below Matope, it comes to the edge of the plateau and plunges over in a series of falls known as the Murchison Cataracts. These extend over forty miles of river, and make a difference in its level of some 1200 feet, though none of them, individually, are of any great height.

The level of the lake, and consequently of the river which it feeds, is very different at different seasons of the year. During the rains, and for some time after, steamers can go to the foot of the Murchison Cataracts—the usual terminus is Katunga’s, about twelve miles below them. In the dry season they cannot always come within sight of Chiromo, and, during the great drought of 1903, the natives of that place were hoeing their maize-gardens far out in the channel of the river. The salt Lake Chilwa, east of the Shiré, disappeared almost, if not quite, at that time, but reappeared with subsequent rains. It is thought, however, that there is a continuous fall in the level of Nyasa, which is unaffected by the rise and fall of successive seasons. In some places a series of old beaches can be traced, ascending like terraces from the lake-shore to the foot-hills.

This fall is attributed to several causes—the wearing away of the outlet channel, allowing more water to escape; the disappearance of the forests and consequent diminution of the rainfall; and the raising of the ground by volcanic action. There are not now any active volcanoes in the country, but earthquakes are common in the neighbourhood of the lake, and there are hot springs near Kotakota, and also on Mount Morambala (Lower Shiré). Mlanje Mountain is of volcanic origin; in the German territory, north of Nyasa, there are numerous extinct volcanoes and crater-lakes.

The district called the Shiré Highlands proper is enclosed between the Shiré, the Ruo, and Lake Chilwa. It was so named by Livingstone, and others besides him have noticed the similarity to the Scottish mountains, in these rugged peaks and crags of quartzite and grey granite, especially in the dry season, when the brown grass is very nearly the colour of the dead heather and bracken. Sochi, near Blantyre, is, in general outline, not unlike Ben Cruachan. The highest of these mountains are Mlanje and Zomba—they are ranges rather than mountains; or, more precisely still, Mlanje is an isolated mass, a plateau with peaks rising from it like buttresses—the highest point 9680 feet. The plateau has a height of 6000 feet, and a temperate climate—cool enough for hoar-frost at night. From these mountains the land sinks in a series of irregular undulations, to the Shiré, covered sometimes with bush, sometimes with the thick, coarse grass so feelingly described by all travellers, which is really more like canes. After it is burned, as it is every year, it is a greater nuisance than ever, for the larger stalks (about as thick as one’s finger) never get quite consumed, and neither stand up nor lie flat, but lie across each other at every conceivable angle—too high to step on and too low to push one’s way under. Other mountains are Chiperone, Chiradzulo and Tyolo, Nyambadwe and Ndirande—the two latter close to Blantyre. It is difficult to make out their relation to each other. At a bird’s-eye view—as from the top of Nyambadwe, or some point on Ndirande—they look like a confused sea of peaks and ridges; but they are more or less continuous to Zomba, and are separated from Mlanje by the Chilwa plain and the valley of the Tuchila, which runs into the Ruo. West of the Shiré we have the Kirk Mountains, running north and south, with some striking peaks—Dzonze, a collection of rounded humps; Mvai, a rocky pyramid, with a three-cleft peak; Lipepete; and, far to the north, Chirobwe, with a sharp rock pointing from its summit like a finger.

These mountains are mostly granite and quartzite. West of the lake and the Shiré, there are outcrops of sandstone, and this part of the country also contains coal. Iron ore is abundant almost everywhere, especially the form called hæmatite—a soft, red stone, known to the natives as ng’ama or kundwe, and used by them as paint, and as medicine; lumps of this can be picked up in the beds of all the mountain streams. Graphite, or black lead, is found in the same way, and is used by the women for colouring their pottery, to which it gives an effect exactly like stove-polish. I think these are the only minerals of which they themselves take much account. Gold exists in the quartz in some places, and Sir Harry Johnston says: ‘In the valleys of the rivers flowing south to the Zambezi (in Mpezeni’s country), gold really does exist, and was worked at Misale by the half-caste Portuguese,’ in the eighteenth century, and even later. But the Mang’anja and Yaos only know it through their dealings with Portuguese and Arabs, and have no word for it in their languages. Ndalama, which, with the addition of ‘red,’ means gold, and of ‘white,’ silver, and by itself = ‘money,’ is, I fancy, a borrowed word—the Arabic dirhem. I once bought (in the West Shiré district) a bangle of pure copper, which was vaguely said to have been obtained from a place to the north-west, but where it had been worked, I could not ascertain. The brass which is fashioned by native craftsmen is always bought from traders.