There can be little doubt about the real origin of the Keebaly. Although, as delineated on my map, the river has a position as though it issued directly from the north-west angle of the Mwootan Lake (Albert Nyanza), nothing was more remote from my intention than to jump to such a precipitate conclusion; there was nothing either in the nature of the river and its tributaries, or in the information received from the various natives, which could, in any way, justify such a hypothesis. On the contrary, I am quite convinced of the correctness of Baker’s statement. I entirely concur with his view that Lake Mwootan is the great basin of the Nile, and that the Bahr-el-Gebel is its only outlet. That Lake Mwootan, simply on account of its abundance of water, must necessarily have several outlets, and that the Ayi (the river which Baker calls the Yè) is one of those outlets, is only a geographical chimera which, in the Old World at least, has no analogy, and which would only be admitted to the theories of dilettanti. According to Baker’s measurement Lake Mwootan (Albert Nyanza) is 2720 feet above the level of the sea. But by comparing the rapids of the Keebaly with the height of Munza’s residence (2707 feet), which has been verified by the most rigid scientific appliances, I have ascertained that they are almost on the same level as the lake. The river and the lake being thus at the same altitude constitutes decisive evidence that the Keebaly does not issue from the lake, from which it is distant about 170 miles.

All the rivers that were embraced within the compass of my journey appeared to me to have their source in the spur of the Galla-Abyssinian highlands, through which the Bahr-el-Gebel passes in the Madi country. Those which belong to the Nile system would seem to spring from the mountains of Koshi on the north of Lake Mwootan, whilst those which are tributary to the Shary have their source in what Baker designates the Blue Mountains, which he observed to the north-west of the lake. Including the Mfumbiro group on the north of Lake Tanganyika—​that group which under Speke’s name of “the Mountains of the Moon,” has obtained a certain geographical notoriety—​this mountain system apparently forms a section of that conspicuous terrace-chain which (with the only exceptions of the Niger source-territory and the lofty isolated coast ranges by the equator) divides the continent of Africa, not according to the prevailing idea into a northern and southern, but into an eastward and westward half of highland and lowland. The highland embraces a large number of inland lakes, some of which allow their waters to escape most diffusely, whilst others appear to have no outlet at all. Many of these lakes are found close to the western ridge of the high ground. Besides the Keebaly, the Lualaba amongst other rivers may be named as forcing its way through the mountains of Rua, and apparently flowing in a westerly direction towards the lowland. If we imagine a prolonged line to cut the entire continent from Massowa to Mossamedes, it would coincide almost precisely with the terrace-chain of which I have spoken; it would answer very much to a corresponding line of division between the highlands and lowlands of South America which, like an Africa turned right over, has its coast-chain on the western side.

Nurtured as I had been upon the banks of the Düna, my earliest memories were associated with the aspect of a majestic river with its foaming waves, and it was consequently with no ordinary pleasure that I gazed upon this stream which hitherto no white man had ever beheld. I retain the most vivid recollection of the last evening that I spent upon the banks of the Keebaly, when both time and place contributed to provoke a geographical discussion. The Nubians are always ready to talk about rivers. They will enlarge freely upon their source, their aspect, and their connection; but, carried away by their imagination, they never fail to represent their own incomparable Nile as par excellence the river of rivers, the very spring and reservoir of all the goodliest waters of the earth. A compendium of all their geographical delusions would form an interesting study, and might furnish a key to many antiquated traditions. It is well known that the Nubians and Arabians always give the name of “island” to the projecting point of land which lies at the confluence of any two rivers; thus Sennaar would be described as the “island” between the White and the Blue Nile; and it was in the same sense that the ancients applied the name to Meroë, the land between the Nile and the Atbara. It is a matter of remark again that the Nubians are accustomed to invert, as it were, the upward and downward courses of a stream, and to describe the confluence of two rivers as the separation of the main stream into two branches. This habit may possibly account for the frequent mention of “arms” in all their descriptions of their rivers: it is in accordance moreover with the practice of the ancients, who referred to the junction of the White and Blue Nile at Khartoom as a partition of the entire stream, “ubi Nilus iterum bifurcus;” a notion probably only derived from the habitual expressions of the natives which would thus appear to have remained unaltered for many centuries.

NUBIAN INCON-
SISTENCY.

A corresponding difference between the Nubian mode of expression and our own is observable in all their allusions to the motions of rivers, and they would speak, for example, of the Nile as going towards, and not as descending from the mountains. On the bank of the Keebaly I sat discussing the topic of river-systems with Mohammed Aboo Sammat and his people; but as we argued over the many hydrographical problems that were yet unsolved I detected him in the most flagrant contradictions. At length, losing my patience, I desired him to show me with his hand which way he supposed the Keebaly to flow; the whole party simultaneously motioned towards the east, and turning to the west declared that that was the direction from which the river came. Startled from my composure, I rated them soundly upon their inconsistencies. “Why, you Mussulmen,” I said, “twist and turn everything upside down. We can comprehend you in nothing. What is sin with us is righteousness with you. The day you call night.[46] In your Ramadan, you fast during the daytime; we do all our fasting at night. Go to a strange place and you expect the people to be the first to visit you. Go to a feast and you take the place of the host, and treat the servants to their beer. Your bridegrooms, too, you make them pay for their brides instead of taking them with a dowry of their own. You talk of what is ‘pure and impure;’ but for yourselves you are always dirty. Your names for colour are contradictions; ‘akhdar’ is green and grey; ‘azrak’ is both blue and black. You call your drums trumpets;[47] and your trumpets drums.[48] In bed you wrap up your heads and leave your feet uncovered. To tell the truth, I could go on and enumerate a hundred of your vagaries, and I can only wonder that you do not stand on your heads and eat with your feet.” The incredible confusion in the ideas of this people involves the traveller in continual tedious explanations. Speke[49] complains in the same way about the geographical blunders of his retinue.

We made our way back to Nembey by the same route that we had come. Before regaining the place we very narrowly escaped coming into collision with the inhabitants of some hamlets through which we passed. The entire caravan for some days past had been placed upon reduced rations, and when some of the bearers caught sight of the manioc roots that had been planted close to the dwellings, the temptation of pulling them up was too great to be resisted. The women were highly indignant, assailed the offenders lustily, and shrieked at them with the loudest imprecations. The caravan came to a standstill. As those in the rear never knew what was happening in front, Mohammed, attended by his bodyguard, hurried up to inquire into the cause of the disturbance. Having ascertained the circumstances, he came to the resolution that it would be his best policy to make an example of the thieves. Accordingly he gave his instructions, and the delinquents received a sound thrashing with the kurbatch, while the injured women looked on with mingled satisfaction and derision.

On arriving at Nembey we found our grass camp-huts in flames, the inhabitants having set fire to them as a token of their sense of having had enough of our company. They had evidently no wish for us to tarry among them any longer. Without halting, therefore, we continued our march, recrossed the Kussumbo, and, towards dark, reached the last of the villages before the frontier wilderness, where I and my people found comfortable accommodation in a large shed belonging to the local chief. We were here informed that Wando was bent upon our destruction, the entire population of the frontier being already in arms, and the women and children having been removed to a place of safety.

Mohammed by this time had been driven, however unwillingly, to the conclusion that he had neither competent guides nor adequate provisions to enable him to carry out his original project of avoiding the enemy’s territory by taking a circuitous route to the east. There was no alternative for us except to continue our old road over the wilderness that bounded the frontier. Meanwhile, repeated showers of rain had fallen, and had contributed very much to the difficulty of crossing the swamps by making them unusually humid. So much time was occupied in conveying the caravan across the brook that bounded the Monbuttoo district that I had leisure to make a sketch of the gallery-forest, which, however, very inadequately represents the splendour of its luxuriance.[50]