The heart of Africa, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Georg August Schweinfurth

WHITE ANTS.

In the middle of the open space of the old Seriba there happened to be a huge white ant-bill of long standing, and this rendered some timely assistance in our need; every night after there had been heavy rain, myriads of white ants appeared on the red clods and might be gathered by the bushel; they belonged to the fat-bodied, winged class, and were what are known as “sexual males.” Immediately upon issuing from their dark retreat, and after a short swarming, they assemble in masses at the foot of their hill and proceed to divest themselves of their wings, leaving their heavy bodies helpless on the ground. This removal of their wings does not seem a matter of difficulty; the instinct of the insects seems to prompt them to throw the wings quite forward till they can be so mutilated by the front feet that they completely drop off. Any insects that remained upon the wing were soon brought to the ground by bundles of lighted straw being placed under them, so that it might literally be said to rain white ants. Baskets full were then readily collected for our table. Partly fried and partly boiled they helped to compensate for our lack of grease of any kind. Not unfrequently I mixed them with uncooked corn and ate them from the hollow of my hand; they made just the kind of food that would be good for birds, and, more avium, I took them. If the day only chanced to be rainy, the night was sure to be provided with a feast; there was not one of us who had not cause to be thankful for the strange abundance of the ant-hill.

Fortunately I found that I had a little reserve of the extract of meat which had been obtained from the Monbuttoo goats; with this and with a fair supply of bread and vegetables I could have managed for myself very well; but unluckily there were no vegetables in the district; the last of the tubers had been devoured and the gourd-season had not yet arrived. It was revolting to me to boil and eat the gourd leaves like the natives, and I therefore endeavoured to procure some of the Melochia of the Arabs, a species of Corchorus which is found both wild and cultivated throughout the entire district of the Nile. It was upon this plant alone, boiled like spinach, that (with the aid of thyme-tea) Sir Samuel Baker records that he subsisted for some weeks at the time when he was treacherously deserted by the natives on his way back from the lake. At this period, however, of my residence on the Nabambisso, the Melochia was only just beginning to sprout, and with all my diligence in looking for it I could never get more than the scantiest of platefuls at a time.

As the discomforts of our situation increased and became more and more trying, I was thrown upon my resources to seek enjoyment of a more ideal nature, and in the neighbouring woods I found the best of compensation for all my bodily privations. Whenever I was beginning to feel more than ordinarily disconsolate I would hurry off to the thickets, and there amongst the splendid and luxuriant vegetation I was sure to find an engagement which would, at least for a time, draw away my thoughts even from the appeal of hunger. In hardly any portion of the world ought an enthusiastic botanist to suffer ennui; wherever there exists a germ of life, there is also a stimulant to his spirit; but hardly a scene can be imagined calculated to enlist his whole interests more and to divert him better than the exuberance of bountiful nature such as was revealed upon the Nabambisso.

ON LOW RATIONS.

The few books that I had brought out with me I had read over and over again. The perusal of Speke’s journal and Baker’s accounts of his difficulties gave me great interest, and I realized very fully a situation which appeared to coincide so entirely with my own. During my forced solitary hours I was only too glad to get hold of any printed matter whatever that was new to me. My extensive store of grey blotting-paper, that served to protect the dried plants was silent enough; but the books into which every few pages of the paper were stitched were fastened on the backs by strips of paper which I carefully removed and found to be a source of occasional diversion. This paper, as being stout in quality, chanced to be cut from the Times; and the articles on the leading topics of the day, the correspondence with the editor, and even the concisest of advertisements, all supplied a peculiar interest. It was strange to sit here, in the very heart of Central Africa, and to read of the tropical wonders that graced the Crystal Palace, where the music that floated round might be the echoes of the voice of Titiens. Tantalizing it was to read of “Mountain port at twenty shillings a dozen,” and to learn that it was comparatively free from alcohol; it made us (involuntary abstainers as we were) thirstier than ever, and joyfully enough would my Bongo bearers have had some cases to convey. I wished myself back again in the days when we were fighting the A-Banga; for though they were days of peril, they were days of plenty, and the old Spanish proverb would ever and again force itself upon my recollection, “No misfortune comes amiss to a full stomach.” At night my dream was akin to Baker’s dream of pale ale and beef-steak. It seemed as though one only required a good meal’s victuals that he might die in peace, and be contented to have for his epitaph the saying of the warrior of the Roman Empire, “What I have eaten and what I have drunk is all that now remains to me.” Nothing could elevate the vision of the mind for long; tied down to material things, it was impotent to soar; and food and drink became the single and prevailing theme which we were capable of handling by day or dreaming of by night.

Reduced to this low and depressed condition were the feelings which I experienced during the later portion of those lonely weeks that I spent in the great shed, now half-ruined, that had formed the assembly hall of the old Seriba. The stipulated time of solitude was drawing rapidly to a close, but still nothing was heard from Mohammed. Our necessities became more and more urgent: to remain where we were became more and more impracticable; and to escape from the disasters that were threatening us I proposed to set off on an excursion to the nearest settlement of any Khartoomers. Forty miles to the west of our present quarters was a Seriba belonging to Tuhamy, and a lofty mountain situated in its vicinity offered special attractions for a visit; the journey would be safe, as the route led across Mohammed’s own territory, and on our way we should pass another Seriba upon the eastern frontiers of his district. Ten bearers would suffice to carry my baggage for this little trip, and I need hardly say how glad they were to accompany me under the prospect of ending, or at least gaining a respite from, their season of privation.

We started off on our march upon the 21st, and after crossing the Boddoh brook and two smaller rivulets we arrived at the Hoo. This little stream meandered through a wood remarkable for its diversity of trees, amongst which I was surprised to see the Sparmannia of Southern Africa. The banks themselves were enclosed by dense bushes of a new species of Stipularia, of which the numerous blossoms, half-hidden in their purple sheaths, gave a singular appearance to the plant. It belongs to the characteristic stream-vegetation of the spot.

Beyond the Hoo we came to a ravine of a hundred feet in depth with a charming hedge of zawa trees; and then crossing two more brooks, copiously supplied with water and both running to the north, we terminated our twelve miles’ march and found a hospitable reception in the huts of Ghitta, an overseer of some of the Niam-niam subject to my friend Mohammed. After our recent privations we seemed quite overpowered by the liberality of the entertainment offered us by Ghitta; he procured corn for the bearers, he brought out several flasks of eleusine-beer, and more than satisfied all reasonable claims upon his hospitality. To the great diversion of the assembled villagers I shot a great number of turtle-doves in the adjacent trees. This species, with the white ring round the throat, is found all through the year in well-nigh every part of Central Africa, although it appears to avoid certain localities, such for instance as the vicinity of our ruined Seriba, where we should have been most thankful for such an addition to our scanty stores; the birds, however, manifestly have a preference for particular places, but wherever they resort they are generally to be noticed amongst the foliage in immense flocks.

MADIKAMM.