In the dry season great numbers of animals made always for a source—very speedily dried up—to the south of the mountain. It was in this vicinity that I proposed to secure my pictures of wild life.
My caravan was very much on the qui vive when at last, after a long march, we were able to strike camp. We had been attacked by a band of Masai warriors during the night and had driven them off. It was only natural, therefore, that we should exercise some caution. But our fatigue overcame all anxiety as to another attack. We had made a long forced march, and were worn out with our exertions and our sufferings from thirst and the heat. Some of the bearers, succumbing under the weight of their burdens, had remained behind. We had started on the previous morning, each of us provided as well as was practicable with water, and had marched until dark, passing the night waterless and pressing on at daybreak. It was absolutely essential now to get to a watering-place, so we put out all our efforts, just succeeding in reaching our goal after nightfall. This march was the more exhausting in that we had had only two hours’ sleep before the fray with the Masai. The bearers we had been obliged to leave behind were afterwards brought into camp safely by a relief party.
On exploring our vicinity next morning we found that our camp, which was to some degree safeguarded by a thorn-fence—a so-called “boma”—adjoined several earlier camps of native elephant-hunters, protected by strong palisades: a thing that had often happened to us before. These camps are to be recognised by the empty powder-casks left about or by the erection somewhere near of a fetich or charm to ward off evil, or something of the kind. It is only the natives who use firearms that have resort to such practices. So far as I know neither the Wakamba nor the Wandorobo are addicted to them. In this particular case the charm took the shape of an arrangement of large snail-shells in the midst of a small enclosure four feet square. That it proved efficacious was suggested by the spectacle of the skulls and remains of some twenty recently killed rhinoceroses within a few paces of the camp.... I had met with just the same state of things in 1900. These “sanctioned” elephant-hunters—or, to use the recognised term, these “trustworthy Fundi”—are an absolute pest. The arch exterminator of the elephants in the Kilimanjaro region was Schundi, the former slave of a Kavirondo chief. Schundi, in his capacity as a political agent and licensed elephant-hunter, scoured the entire country with his men from 1893 to 1900.[19]
ONE OF THE PEAKS OF DONJE-EROK, IN THE VICINITY OF KILIMANJARO.
In the heart of the thicket we came suddenly upon a quite recent camp of native hunters of some kind—not Wandorobo, we judged, from utensils which they left behind, of a sort the Wandorobo never use. I was aware that other tribes had taken to hunting the animals in this region, the Masai themselves setting about it quite in the Wandorobo fashion. Our chief “find” in the camp, however, was a collection of some forty zebra-hides, quite freshly secured, and about the same number of hides of gnus as well as others of smaller game. Most of these skins were stretched out on the ground to dry, fixed with pegs. Probably the fugitives had taken a number of others away with them. I came to the conclusion that the natives were of the class that hunt on behalf of Indian, Greek, and other traders—a class far too numerous nowadays. The traders pay them very little for their labours, and themselves make huge profits out of it all.
I took possession of the skins, prepared the best of them very thoroughly and carefully, and then sent them to Moschi, for despatch to the Berlin Museum. This task occupied me for two days, but I undertook it with gusto, for I knew that by reason of the variety of species of zebras and gnus frequenting this region, this big collection of skins was of great scientific value. And I rejoiced the more over my treasure-trove in that it exempted me from shooting any more zebras or gnus myself. But my calculations were all to be upset. On my notification to the station that I had not bagged the animals myself, but had found them lying about in a bush-camp where they had been abandoned by nomadic native hunters, it was decided that they could not be recognised as my property without further proceedings. Eventually the matter was decided in my favour by a governmental decree, but in the meantime the skins were considerably damaged by insects and otherwise. Could I have foreseen this, I should not have been at the trouble and serious expense of saving them, but should have left them as a welcome feast to the hyenas and jackals. What I was still able to save out of the lot I sent later to the Berlin Museum.
C. G. Schillings, phot.
WHEN STARTING ON A LONG “TELEKESA-MARCH”—A MARCH OF MORE THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS BEFORE REACHING THE NEXT WATERING-PLACE—MY MEN PROVIDED THEMSELVES WITH AS MUCH WATER AS THEY COULD CARRY.