Shortly after midnight on the 8th of February there came on such a violent storm that I was aroused from my sleep, although I was sheltered by one of the best protected of the huts. A complete change of wind ensued, and for the first time this season the south-west wind set in afresh and for some time maintained its position for the greater part of the day. The nights in consequence became so much warmer that any covering for the bed could easily be dispensed with. We tarried here three days, and then started for another three days’ march on our return to Bongoland, over a country all but destitute of water, for the Pongo may be described as a river that separates a district full of springs from one that is just as barren of them, although the change in the level of the country comes on so gradually that it can hardly be said to be observable. In the course of our journey we had to cross the three running brooks known as the Ngokurah, the Simmere, and Ngonguli, and to pass by several villages of the Sehre, of which the sheikhs were respectively called Kombo, Villeke, Badja, and Barraga. The last huts and the last water were left behind about four miles after quitting the Pongo, and henceforth water for drinking had to be sought for with considerable trouble, as all the pools and marshes that supplied any were only to be found scattered at wide intervals one from another.
“Karra,” the magic tuber.
KARRA, THE MAGIC TUBER.
We spent our first night close to the farms of Barraga, a spot which seemed especially remarkable for the clusters of trophies, all covered with the skulls of baboons. Everywhere there seemed to be an extensive cultivation of cassava, a product of the soil that seems hardly known at all to the Bongo. Many things that I saw in their cultivation bore evidence to their comparatively recent migration from the country of the Niam-niam. Sweet-potatoes were as common as cassava, and in addition to this were the ricinus, the edible solanum of the Niam-niam, here called “dyooyo,” and the horse-bean (Canavalia), which here bears the name of “nzerahno.” I also found a very peculiar creeper, with a double horny or finger-shaped tuber attached to the axils of the leaves, like the edible helmia, to which genus of plants it doubtless belongs. It is transplanted by the natives from the woods and trained in the neighbourhood of the huts, and is known under the name of “karra.” I had already noticed this plant in the Kredy villages on the Beery, where I was told that the tubers were very much used as a purgative medicine; but amongst the Niam-niam, who likewise occasionally cultivate it, I heard a different account. There it was said that the tubers are looked upon as a sort of charm, and it is believed that a good show of them upon the leaves is an infallible prediction of a prolific hunting season. It was, moreover, affirmed that if a huntsman wants to render his bow unerring in its capabilities, he has only to hold it in his hand while he “slaughters” one of the tubers over it, that is, takes a knife and cuts off the end and chops it in pieces.
The first tract that we passed in our still eastward return route was a uniformly thick wood, without any declivity at all in the ground, or anything to indicate that it was ever broken by a watercourse or standing pool of rain. About midday we made a halt at a marshy brook named Kanda, now dry, and set to work to explore the neighbourhood in the hopes of discovering some water, for, after a march of eleven miles in the heat, we began to be suffering from thirst. After a long search my people succeeded in meeting with a puddly slough, from which the dirty superficies had to be carefully removed in order to get at a little clear water. It was a disgusting swamp, the haunt of buffaloes and wild boars, full of excrements and reeking with filth, a compound of mould and ammonia. It was not until it had been strained through handkerchiefs and well-boiled that the water was purified of its odious smell. Only three miles farther on we had the good luck to find the watercourse of the Telle, overshadowed by thick foliage and running in a tolerably bright stream: a sufficient inducement to make the spot our resting-place for the night.
On the third day of our march we again passed several dry khors that had little pools of water in them, but very inadequate to our needs. In one of these there was lurking a herd of hartebeests, which by the greyish fawn-colour of their winter coats had quite an exceptional appearance. Hundreds of maraboo-storks were congregated around a marshy pond, where they were fishing for snails and worms.
NO ROOF OVER-HEAD.
At dinner we were again obliged to put up with the most abominable and revolting of water; our stock of provisions was miserably short, and although I had knocked over a few guinea-fowl, I had neither water in which to boil them, nor grease in which to fry them. In the afternoon we were startled by a storm, which, coming up from the north-east, rolled away towards the south. We endeavoured to get shelter in the wood beneath the thick foliage of the numerous great Lophira-trees, but it was all in vain; for, after having waited till daylight was waning, we were obliged to proceed in the darkness, and, thoroughly drenched to the skin, marched for a couple of hours till we came to the banks of a rivulet, where we were again overtaken by the rain.