For the last few days we have been encamped here close to the left bank of the main river, in the scanty shade of stunted trees, surrounded by a tangle of reeds and tall grass, in which our people with some trouble cleared a place for the tents. At this spot there is an extensive view both up and down stream, and, for a wonder, this reach is free from the islands which elsewhere obstruct the channel, so that the eye can range unhindered across a sea of sand-banks to the further shore. The steep, eroded banks whose acquaintance we made on the central course of the river are here, too, the rule. Sitting at the top of one of these steep slopes, it requires some skill to hit the hippos which from time to time unexpectedly rise in the river; even Nils, usually a dead shot, misses time after time, to his great disgust. These slopes are the only picturesque point in the vast desolation of the river-bed where nothing is to be seen except sand and gravel, gravel and sand. Between these great masses of drift, the Rovuma is still more broken up into small streams than is the case higher up at the mouth of the Bangala, and the wandering Wamatambwe, here more numerous than on the upper river, have no need to exercise their famous powers of swimming and diving, but can wade at their ease across the shallow channels.
This is rather unfortunate for Knudsen, as it deprives him of an opportunity to prove the truth of a story he is never tired of telling me about the Wamatambwe. Not content with saying that they are excellent swimmers, and not afraid of crocodiles, partly because of their faith in the charms with which they are always provided and partly because they are much more agile in the water than the reptiles—he insists that they cross the river at its highest level, when the current is too strong to launch their canoes, by simply walking through, though the water is far above their heads. Though unable, in face of his superior knowledge, to disprove this assertion, I find it somewhat difficult to believe.
The state of the river, as I have already remarked, will not allow them to show off their diving at present, and as regards their trust in the dawa for protection against crocodiles, my own observation does not bear out what he tells me. At least, I see that the Wamatambwe whom he sends across the channel at our feet, in order to pick up the numerous ducks shot by him, always look about them uneasily when they chance upon a deeper spot and make the best of their way to shore.
MATAMBWE FISHERMAN CATCHING A TURTLE, WHICH A WATER-SNAKE IS TRYING TO SEIZE. FROM A DRAWING BY THE ASKARI STAMBURI
But this is not the purpose for which I came down to the Rovuma, and I may give myself credit for devoting to the river only the afternoons of my scanty leisure. Every forenoon is occupied with the discovery as to which Knudsen was so enthusiastic. This time, for once, he was right; but, as the simplest photograph tells more than the fullest description, I refer the reader to the accompanying illustrations and only give such additional comments as are absolutely necessary to make them comprehensible.
Our departure from Nchichira was slightly delayed by a warm shower, falling in straight, vertical lines on the dry sand. Both nature and man drew a long breath at this first symptom of the approaching rains. But the pitiless sun reasserted his rights only too quickly, and the procession started on its way, soon vanishing down the precipitous slope. After descending a few yards, the steep path ceased to be slippery; hot, dry stones crunched under our feet—the atmosphere, too, into which every step plunged us another fraction of a yard deeper, was likewise hot and dry; it became evident that the rain must here have evaporated before it reached the ground. At last we arrived at the bottom and entered a dense forest of huge trees. But even here we did not find the pleasant coolness of our German forests; the air we encountered was hot, moist and mouldy-smelling, and the foot had to feel its way uncertainly over the quaking soil.
“If the Department of Woods and Forests only knew—there is plenty of timber to be had here!” I was just saying to myself, when we suddenly came to the end of it. It looked as though a hurricane had passed, or an avalanche ploughed its way down the neighbouring precipice. The mighty boles lay like broken matches, across one another in all directions; a lamentable sight indeed to an economical European eye. With great difficulty we scrambled on; the ground became drier; here and there we stepped into heaps of ashes, and then a glance round revealed the true state of the case. Even here, it is man who will not leave nature in peace. The Makonde plateau, with its area of 6,000 square miles, might surely be expected to afford subsistence for a mere trifle of 80,000 or 90,000 natives with their simple wants. As a matter of fact, however, we see that it is not sufficient for them. In this case the underwood had been cut down and burnt over a considerable distance, and the large trees had been attacked, as usual, with axe and fire. Everywhere fallen logs still smouldered, and the vanished shapes of splendid trees were traced on the ground in outlines of white ashes. While I was still gazing in horror at the work of destruction, my men brought forward one of the criminals—no other than old Majaliwa himself. He had his axe still in his hand, and was grinning all over with pride at his achievements.
German East Africa has no superfluity of real, commercially valuable timber; the famous Shume forest in Usambara and a few others (remarkable on account of their rarity) are but the exceptions proving the rule. The necessity, therefore, of protecting the hitherto untouched forest areas on the Rovuma from the wasteful farming of the natives is all the more urgent. We have a well-founded right to prohibit the tribes living in the neighbourhood of this valley from cutting down a single tree in it, since it is solely in consequence of the security afforded by the German administration that they are able to cultivate any new ground at all outside their hereditary seats on the plateau. If the boma of Nchichira had not been planted on the top of the escarpment, bidding defiance to the Mavia across the valley, no Mngoni or Makonde would dream of sowing a single grain of maize beyond the edge of the tableland. So to-day, knowing that, under our protection, they are quite safe from Mavia raids, even in the valley, they go down and destroy our finest forests.
A little farther on, having reached the top of an undulation in the soil, we at last came to the wonder we were in search of—two specimens at once. With astonishment I found myself before a regular tower, and saw my men staring uncomprehendingly at a style of architecture quite new to them. Majaliwa’s new palace—it was here then, that the old man retired every day after our shauri was over—is not, indeed, as Nils Knudsen had asserted, a three-storied house, but, with a little goodwill we can easily make out two stories and an attic. The ground floor is a square apartment with grass walls, filled with pots, calabashes, ladles and the rest of a native woman’s household requisites, and having the usual fire smouldering between the three lumps of earth in the centre. The first floor is much more elegantly appointed, only the access to it is less convenient than might be wished. My early training in gymnastics enables me to negotiate without difficulty the primitive ladder, consisting of cross-pieces lashed to the supporting piles at intervals of about a yard; but they give Knudsen a good deal of trouble, and how old Majaliwa and his wife get up it every night, like chickens going to roost, is beyond my comprehension. Their sleeping apartment is quite comfortable—a thick layer of straw covers the logs of the floor, and the mats which make up the bedding are of a quality by no means to be despised. As the matriarchate is not in force among the Wangoni, no rule of propriety is violated by the fact that Abdallah, the heir to the house, lives in the attic. This, too, is, for a native dwelling, very neatly arranged, with its soft bed, mats and baskets of provisions.