Shukri Agha, commandant of Mswa, has also arrived. At an interview with him, in the presence of the Pasha, I informed him in plain terms that if he expected to retire to the coast he would have to set about it immediately. I told him that I had been amazed at many things since my arrival the third time at the Lake, but the most wonderful thing of all was the utter disregard to instructions and orders manifested by everybody. In May last, ten months ago, they had all been informed of the cause of our coming. They had promised to be ready, and now he, Shukri Agha, had come to us to ask us for instructions, just as though he had never heard anything of the matter. If he, a commandant of a station, and commander of troops, appeared to be so slow to comprehend, how ever was it possible to convey it into the sense of the Soudanese soldier. All I had to say now was, that unless he, Shukri Agha, paid attention to what I said, he would be left behind to take the consequences.
1889.
March 15.
Kavalli’s.
“Ah,” says Shukri, “I will go back to Mswa, and the very next day I shall embark the women and children on the steamers, and I shall march with our cattle through Melindwa overland, and we shall all be here in seven days.”
“I shall expect you on the tenth day from this, with your families, soldiers, and cattle.”
The Pasha said to me in the evening, “Shukri Agha has given me his solemn promise that he will obey the orders I have given him to depart from Mswa at once.”
“Did you write them firmly, Pasha, in such a manner that there can be no doubt!”
“Surely, I did so.”
“Do you think he will obey them?”
“Most certainly. What, Shukri Agha! He will be here in ten days without fail, and all his soldiers with him.”