The source of the Blue Nile

by Arthur J. Hayes

The end of the descent brought us to the lake shore again, and we camped on the further bank of a little stream of clear water running in a rocky bed. It is called the Tschembolo. This is near to the village of Woreb, and is only two miles from the point where the Blue Nile flows from Lake Tsana. We could not proceed further that day, for the march had been a long one, and it was late already. So we halted upon this spot by the brook, as it was a very suitable camping-ground with a clean drinking supply, and determined to move on the morrow to a more central position, if we could find one, for the survey work which Crawley and Dupuis were to undertake.

Patients had followed me from Korata. They were people who had reached our camp there in the morning, after I had packed up the medicine-chest and mounted my mule. Some half a dozen had come over to Woreb after us, and were now waiting to see me. But I was dead tired that evening and refused to attend to them. There were no serious cases, and I told those who wished to have advice to return at nine o’clock the next morning. If I had made myself more accessible than I was, I should have been mobbed not only by the sick in Abyssinia, but by a host of people who fancied they had ailments.

OUR GUIDE BETWEEN KORATA AND WOREB.

See [p. 132.]

Just before dinner there was a commotion close to our tents, and we found that one of the soldiers of our escort had tried to stab Walda Mariam,[82] the assistant of Johannes, with whom he had come to meet us at Gallabat. We immediately disarmed the soldier, and then discovered that both had been to a village near by to get tedj, and were drunk. So we disarmed the deputy-interpreter also, and I was sorry to see him in disgrace, for he had always been willing, hard-working, and cheery on the journey. We placed the soldier under arrest, and warned him that if he were found brawling again he would be flogged. Then, order being restored, we went to dinner.

In this part of Abyssinia the mountain air sharpened our appetites, and I must own that we were sturdy trenchermen. Each would tackle a whole guinea-fowl or duck for lunch, and be ready for another in the evening. We had puddings “of sorts” too, and yet, like Oliver Twist, we “asked for more.”

On the morning of January 26, the quarrelsome soldier, now sober and crestfallen, was brought up for a formal reprimand. He was told that his case would be reported at Gallabat, and that he would be punished there according to military law. Then his arms were returned to him. Walda Mariam also attended, looking sheepish and sorry for himself, and his weapons too were restored to him.

After this the medicine-chest was unloaded, and I redeemed my promise to patients. One family—father, mother, and two children—had come from a distance to consult me at Korata. They had arrived too late, and had followed us to Woreb. The father was suffering from necrosis of the lower jaw, and I had to draw three teeth for him. The mother had come to hear what instructions were given about the children—a little boy and a little girl. They were suffering from strumous, tuberculous glands of the neck. I had as “hospital orderly” a soldier who understood Arabic and Amharic, and could therefore put me en rapport with my patients. After an examination of the children, I concluded that the right thing would be an operation with the knife. I told this to the woman, and the soldier interpreted what I said word for word. As soon as the little girl heard the word “knife,” she gave vent to the loudest, most piercing scream that she could utter, and fairly flew from the spot. The noise created a sensation among the Habashes and boys, who seemed to think that I was killing a patient. It would have been awkward in any case to operate in camp, and on this occasion I had no opportunity. Nothing short of brute force would have brought the little girl back, and I think the word “knife” conveyed to her mother and brother the notion of the butcher’s rather than the surgeon’s implement.

My companions had mounted their mules and started on an exploring journey, intending to select a good site as a camping-ground close to the river. But by the time they returned they had decided that our present position could not be bettered, as the river-banks were low ground covered with papyrus swamps, and any halting-place there would be very unhealthy. They had also found that all the points from which they wished to make observations were easy of access from the spot that we had chosen.