On the 16th we came to a region which is almost a precise counterpart of the Maque plain, being covered with mapani-trees and abounding in pools full of fish. The natives call it the Libanani, and it forms the south-eastern extremity of the plateau. It now belongs to the eastern Bamangwatos and the Matabele; but in Moselikatze’s time it belonged exclusively to the Matabele, being the most westerly part of their territory; its outlying parts, however, were so continually ravaged by lions, that no safety could be secured for cattle, which consequently had all to be withdrawn. The woods are thick only at the edge of the ponds, which I imagine are all in the line of what was the bed of a river, that in all likelihood has now been dry for centuries.
From the open character of the adjacent country the Libanani glade has a special charm for sportsmen. It abounds in many varieties of game, from the duykerbock to the elephant, and here, as in other parts of the plateau, the ornithologist will find a most interesting field for study in the waders and swimming-birds. Both by day and by night, too, birds of prey are perpetually to be observed, and in the moist places, where the soil is carpeted with flowers, sun-birds and bee-eaters may be seen in swarms, while in the boughs that overhang the water, the bright blue Alcedo cristata, the Halcyon Swainsonii and the black-and-white Ceryle rudis are perpetually sporting. I must also include in my list the giant heron (Ardea Goliath), and the beautiful little Nettapus Madagascariensis. This is of the goose tribe; it is from twelve to fourteen inches long; its head, neck, and back are of a glossy dark green; underneath it is white, except the breast and sides, which are of a reddish brown; its face and throat are also white, and it has a bright green spot on either side of its neck.
Attractive as the diversity of animal life makes the Libanani, there are two reasons why it is very undesirable to make a lengthened stay there; in the first place the pools at the end of summer exhale a very malarious atmosphere, and in the second, it is infested with yellow cobras, which, in the way to which I have elsewhere referred, lie in wait in the trees overhanging the game tracks. Westbeech told me that in dry winters the ponds contain so little water that the fish in them, of which the glanis is the most common species, can be easily caught with the hands. It was here that for the first time for many months I heard the howl of the silver jackal (Canis mesomelas). I found that many of the plants were identical with those that grew in the salt-lake basin, and was consequently confirmed in my opinion that the Libanani is one of the lowest parts of the whole pool-plateau district. I noticed also some handsome palm-bushes, the first I had seen since I left the vicinity of the Zambesi.
Winter was said to be the best time for game, and this was confirmed by the small amount of success that some of our party had in going out to shoot for the replenishment of our larder; but even at this period of the year I noticed the tracks of a considerable number of animals across our path, amongst them those of the black rhinoceros.
A long drive on the 18th brought us into the valley of the Nata, which we should subsequently have to cross. The river here had all the characteristics of a sandy spruit, opening at intervals into pools, the banks being overgrown with grass six or seven feet high, and containing a number of hollows, which after floods are left full of water, corresponding in this respect with many South African streams, particularly those included in the Limpopo system.
Our road next lay through a dense mapani-wood. Four years previously, Westbeech had been the first traveller to use this route by the Nata and Maytengue rivers to the Matabele country, and I accordingly gave the track the name of the “Westbeech road.” In the evening we came to a grass plain almost entirely enclosed by woods, where the Maytengue river in its course from the Makalaka lands is said to lose itself in the soil.
The Maytengue appears to diminish both in breadth and depth towards its mouth, and its banks are literally riddled with pitfalls. We crossed a great many deep but narrow dry rain-channels, hundreds of which find their way to the river, but flow for so short a time that they hardly make any appreciable difference to the stream, which consequently dwindles away in the lower part of its wide sandy bed; the longer section of its course runs through the fine hill-country occupied by Menon’s Makalakas.
Throughout the whole of the next day we followed the right hand bank of the stream. Bradshaw had an attack of dysentery, and Westbeech was so far from well that I insisted upon his coming for a time under my immediate charge. Ever since we left Panda ma Tenka the weather had been very trying, the days, and especially the afternoons, being extremely sultry, the nights bitterly cold.
Just before we crossed the Maytengue on the 21st, my attention was called to a tall hollow mapani-tree, beneath which a Makalaka chief had been buried. The people had a superstition that their “morimo,” or unseen god, resided in the tree, and as they passed by were in the habit of dropping their bracelets into the hollow trunk. They had the same belief about one of the caves in the hills, and carried presents every year to the spot.
The country became more elevated as we proceeded, and some hills of granite rose in front of us, though not lofty enough to shut out the view of the real Makalaka heights in the background. On arriving at the first of these hills, Westbeech, with Bradshaw, walked off to obtain an interview with Menon; he was anxious to get the chief to provide him an escort as far as Gubuluwayo the capital, where he wanted to see a friend of his, named Philipps, who was staying with Lo Bengula, and to induce him to go on with him to Shoshong, and assist him in settling his accounts. The high esteem in which Westbeech was held by the Makalakas ensured him a kind reception from Menon, who not only granted the request that was made, but lost no time in paying a return visit.