Of the other members of the royal family, several of Munza’s wives and his eldest sister came to inspect our camp. This latter woman was repulsive-looking enough, and did not appear to possess any of the warlike virtues attributed to one of her sisters named Nalengbe, who is since dead, but who had once arrayed herself in a man’s dress, and entered into personal conflict with the Nubians. This weak woman’s vanity made her the laughing-stock of strangers and acquaintances alike; she perambulated the camp, displaying the grossest familiarity with the soldiers. She begged me to make her a present of some lead, which the Nubians from motives of policy had withheld. Lead was still in this region as much of a rarity as though it was just discovered, and produced among them for the first time. Munza’s sister used to hammer bright ear-rings out of whatever musket-balls she could procure.
One morning about thirty of the royal ladies came, all together, into the camp to receive the presents which Mohammed had provided for them. They all had comely, youthful, well-knit figures, and were for the most part tall, but much cannot be said in favour of their expression. They emulated each other in the extent of their head-gear and in the profusion with which they adorned the body. Two of them submitted to have their portraits taken; the whole party sat in a circle, taking up their position during the time that I was sketching the likenesses on the little single-stemmed stools which they had brought with them; when they took their seats they threw their bands across their laps. Some of the group stood out in marked contrast to the rest by their light complexion and fair hair, whilst others approximated very nearly to the colour of café-au-lait. When I had finished my drawing, I was anxious to show my appreciation of the ladies’ patience, and accordingly offered to present them with some beads, but they at once begged to refuse the proffered necklace, explaining that they were not at liberty to accept presents from any one but “Mbahly” (Aboo Sammat). These they had come to fetch, but they had had no orders to receive anything from “Mbarik-pah;” it might arouse suspicion, and suspicion with Munza, the interpreters insisted, was tantamount to death.
INTRUDERS.
However interested I might be, just at first, in the vivacious movements of the people as they thronged around me, it did not take long to make me feel that they were a weariness and a nuisance. On the very next day after our arrival I was obliged to encircle my tent with a thorn-hedge to keep off the press of the inquisitive crowds; full many, however, there were who would not be deterred by any obstacle of this kind; regardless of the obstruction, they penetrated right into my presence. I was interrupted at every moment by these intrusions. My next resource was to have a lot of water dashed over the encroaching rabble, and finding that fail, I fired some trains of gunpowder, and, in the hopes of alarming the natives, I proceeded to set light to a few shells; but even the explosions of these did not take much effect. It seemed as if nothing could keep the curious crowds at a distance, and, at my wits’ end what to do, I applied to Mohammed for assistance. He assigned me a guard of men; but even this scheme only partially succeeded; it answered very well as long as I kept within the bounds of my asylum, but I had only to venture beyond, and I found my retinue as large as ever. The majority of those who harassed me in this way were women, who, by keeping up with me step by step, thoroughly baffled me in all my attempts to botanize; and if perchance I managed to get away into the wood, they would find me out, and trample down the rare flowers I had laboriously collected, till I was almost driven to despair. When thus escorted by about a hundred women I was marching down to the streams in the depth of the valleys, I might indulge the fancy that I was at the head of a triumphal procession, and as often as our path led us through villages and farms the numbers in the train were swollen prodigiously.
Sometimes I was in a better mood, and indulged in a little joke. I had picked up some of their words, and when I shouted one of these out loud it was taken up merrily by the whole party, and passed on from mouth to mouth. Their word “hosanna,” for instance, means “it is not,” and on one occasion having happened to shout out this, I proceeded for a quarter of an hour while the women around me paused not a moment in making the air resound with the cry “Hosanna.” Not unfrequently I would try them with some hard crack-jaw German word, in order to enjoy their conscientious endeavours to reproduce it; but perhaps best of all for producing a characteristic scene was the choice of one of their imitative names of animals, where the appellation is derived from the sounds uttered by the creatures themselves. A goat is in this way called “memmeh.” I once seated myself in the centre of a concourse of women, and drew a picture of a couple of goats, and the keynote being given, every time a fresh woman came up she found herself greeted with the universal bleating cry of “Memmeh, memmeh—eh?” “What’s the row? What’s up?” would be her question. “Memmeh, memmeh” (a goat, a goat), would be all the answer.
INQUISITIVENESS.
These Monbuttoo women, who were so intolerably obtrusive whilst I was amongst other folks, were reserved enough about themselves; however much I might be anxious to investigate their domestic habits, I had but to present myself at the entrances of their huts, and off they were in an instant to the interior, and their doors barred against all intrusion.
There were delicious places where, encircled by the luxuriance of a tropical vegetation, the clear and sparkling pools invited me to the enjoyment of a safe and refreshing bath, an irresistible attraction after the numberless mud baths of the Niam-niam country. Everything seemed to conspire to render the scenery perfect in its bewitching grace; each winding of the brook would be overarched by a magnificent canopy of gorgeous foliage; the waving pendants of the blooming shrubs would shadow the secluded stream; a fantastic wreath of elegant ferns growing up amongst the goodly leaves of the aroideæ and the ginger-plants would adorn the banks; gigantic stems, clothed with accumulated moss, would rise upwards in majestic height and reach down like steps in romantic beauty to the bathing-place. But, alas! even this nook, where the delights of paradise seem almost to be perpetuated, may not be secure from the torment of humanity. It happens here according to the teaching of the poet, that—
“every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile.”