In Brightest Africa

by Carl Ethan Akeley

I went back to camp and waited. The boys had no supply of food with them and I had no idea but that they would be back in camp before night, but it was not until midnight of the second day that Bill came to my tent, awakened me, and told his story. They had followed the elephant without ever coming up with him except that at one time they heard him ahead of them; and they had finally decided it was best to come back to get food and instructions. Bill was just about exhausted; and the gun-bearer, a big husky fellow, had fallen by the wayside. Bill had left him some five miles back in the forest on the trail. Evidently Bill considered my elephant guns of more importance than one black gun boy, as, for fear that something would happen to the rifles, he had lugged both of the heavy guns into camp, leaving the boy with nothing but his knife with which to protect himself. I felt, however, that there was little danger to the gun boy except from exposure, and against that he no doubt had built a fire. I could think of nothing to do until daylight. A half hour later some commotion in camp caused me to send for the headman, but Bill came instead. I asked him what was doing, and he said that he had had trouble in getting some of the boys to go with him. "Go where?" I asked. He replied that he was going back to the gun boy with food. Then I came to. I sent for the headman and askaris, told Bill to describe to them the gun boy's location, and told them they were to go to his relief, and Bill that he was to go to bed. This he finally did, after using up what remaining strength he had in protest. The elephant was not located.

About a year and a half later, after we had returned to the States, Bill went back into his home country and began to search for the wounded elephant. He must have done some very clever detective work, for he finally located the native who had found the dead elephant. This native had secured the tusks, and had sold one of them to an Indian trader; but the second was still in his possession. According to the laws of the land he should have turned in the two tusks to the government officials, who would have paid him a nominal price for the ivory, and I, having filed a claim with the Government, would have come into possession of the tusks; but the native had evidently thought that he could get more out of them by selling them one at a time, and had taken a chance. But he made a mistake in leaving Bill out of his calculations. Bill followed up the case with the final result that the remaining tusk was taken and sent to me, and the Government confiscated a certain number of cattle belonging to the native as penalty for the one he had sold. Thus, to both Bill and me, the final results from that particular elephant hunt were satisfactory.

One time in Uganda I was using Bill as a gun-bearer in preference to the regular gun-bearers, because I had by that time realized that Bill was the best tracker as well as the most keen and alert hunter, black or white, that I had ever known. We had followed a small band of elephants into some dense forest, and for a long time had been crouching beneath some undergrowth where we could get an occasional glimpse of the elephants' legs, but nothing more. They had been quietly feeding during this time, but at last they moved away and crossed a trail down which we had a vista of a hundred yards or so. When we thought the last one had passed, we went down this trail quickly and quietly to the point where they had crossed, and there we stopped, listening intently in an attempt to locate them. At first I thought they had gone out of hearing, when I suddenly discovered the rear elevation of a bull not more than twenty feet from us. He was motionless. We had come in so quietly that he had not heard us, and then I did not dare move for fear of attracting his attention. I craned my neck in an effort to get a glimpse of his tusks, and in doing this I became conscious of a cow standing beside the bull and looking straight at us. Bill was about five feet back and to one side of me. I stood motionless, without swinging my gun in the cow's direction, but waited for her to make the move. I doubt whether she saw us distinctly. The bull began to move away and the cow, in turning to follow, moved a pace more or less in my direction. I was perfectly certain that she was going to follow the bull, and to Bill there was no indication that I had seen her. Bill thought she was coming at me, raised his gun, and fired point blank into the cow's face. The elephants bolted. I wheeled and slapped Bill, because he had broken one of the rules of the game, which is that a black boy must never shoot without orders unless his master is down and at the mercy of a beast. Of course it did not take long for me to come to a realization that Bill's shooting was done in perfectly good faith because he thought that I had not seen the cow, and he also thought that she was coming straight at me. Bill's heart was broken and my apologies were forthcoming and were as humble as the dignity of a white man would permit.

The next day Bill came to me and said that he wanted to quit and go back to Nairobi. I satisfied myself that it was not the incident of the day before that had brought him to this frame of mind, but he admitted that he was scared and tired. In other words, the pace had been too hot for him. It was a case of nerves, and he was worn out. I persuaded him to stay, telling him that he need not go with me on elephant trails for a week. I would take the other boys and he could just stay in camp to loaf and rest. But the next morning, when I was preparing to go, Bill was on the job and would not be left behind. He told Mrs. Akeley that he was not afraid for himself but was afraid for his Bwana. So we continued our elephant work at an easier pace than before.

The Wakikuyus (to give them their full name) are an agricultural people, and one does not normally look among them for gun-bearers or hunters. They are a comparatively mild and gentle race, and thus Bill was quite an exceptional individual. Bill was always on the job, and if it were not for the two occasions of which I have told, I would be able to say that he is one human being whom I have never seen tired.

Bill never was and never will be completely tamed. His loyalty to the master in whom he believes and for whom he has an affection is unbounded, and I firmly believe that Bill would go into certain death for such a master. He has an independence that frequently gets him into trouble. He does not like to take orders from any one of his own colour. The Somalis and the Swahilis, associated with Bill, were constantly putting up jobs to get him in bad with the master because, to these two peoples, the Wakikuyus are a very inferior race. There is no doubt in my mind that Bill's disgrace with the Roosevelt Expedition was due entirely to the connivance of the Swahilis and the Somalis.

When we had finished with our lion-spearing expedition on the Uasin Gishu Plateau, numerous things had been stolen, and the Somalis insisted that Bill was the guilty party. A white man whom I had employed to take charge of the Nandi spearmen was not fond of Bill, and one day he ordered him to open his bag for inspection. Bill refused, and when the case was brought to me and I investigated it, Bill was so rebellious that we found it necessary to take him in hand for mild punishment. He ran from camp and I sent an askari after him. The askari overtook him, but he did not bring him back, because Bill had a long knife and he was prepared to use it to a finish. I realized that I would have to see it through, although my sympathies were all with Bill. We were near a government boma, and I turned my case over to the officials. Bill was arrested, put in jail, and we went on without him.

Some weeks later we were making the ascent of Mt. Kenia, back in Bill's old country, where Bill's services had been almost invaluable; and I continually felt the need and frequently an actual longing for Bill. We were up about ten thousand feet on Kenia, following an elephant trail. We came to an elephant pit in which some animal had been trapped and made its escape. I was busy reading the story, which was very simple. A giant hog had got into the pit and had worked with his tusks and feet at the sides of his prison until he had raised the bottom to a point which enabled him to scramble out and make his escape. I had been longing for Bill all morning because of certain troubles we were having with our boys. Just as we were about to leave the pit to continue our march up the mountain side I heard a voice behind me:

"Jambo, Bwana." ["Good morning, Master.">[