“BWANA PUFESA” (THE PROFESSOR). FROM A DRAWING BY ONE OF MY ESCORT
Marine subjects appear to be in high favour. My askari Stamburi (Stambuli, i.e., Constantinople) is a smart soldier while on duty, off duty a Don Juan; and now he shows himself possessed of an unsuspected gift for marine and animal painting. He is a landsman, born far inland on the Upper Rovuma and has therefore succeeded better in depicting the adventure of the Matambwe fisherman (p. [347]) than he has with the Arab dau (p. [25]). The latter is, indeed, drawn accurately enough; it has just anchored; the sail is bent to the yard; both flag and rudder are shown. We have in addition three paddles, floating above in the clouds. These are intended, so the draughtsman tells me, for use if a calm comes on. But what is that amidships? Has the vessel sprung a leak, or, indeed, two? No—they are the two hatchways. Stamburi knows that such openings exist on the ship and therefore it is his duty as an artist to put them in. Having no knowledge of perspective, he simply turns them round through an angle of ninety degrees, so as to bring them into full view from the side. Genius recognizes no limitations.
WANGONI WOMEN AT NCHICHIRA
TWO NATIVES. DRAWN BY PESA MBILI
The Matambwe fisherman in the other picture has just anchored his boat at the bend of the river, and then cast his line with the uncouth iron hook. A few minutes after, he feels a jerk,—then, a mighty pull—a broad, round object swings through the air and lies on the grass. The fisherman is just letting the line run deliberately through his hand to draw the booty up to him, when some monster, probably of unearthly origin, dashes at his fine, large turtle. It is only a common snake, after all, though an unusually large one, and the old man is not going to give up his spoil so tamely, but is holding on to the line for all he is worth.
Most of these drawings represent incidents actually witnessed by the artist, and the figures, whether of men or animals, are intended for portraits of real individuals. Some, however, are purely genre pictures, such as the woman pounding at the mortar under the eaves of her hut (p. [165]), and the mother with the baby on her hip (p. [345]), which are typical figures from everyday life, with no attempt at portraiture. So, too, the two natives drawn by Pesa mbili are not intended for anyone in particular. The fact is that, on the day when this was executed, at Mahuta (October 21st), I had been chiefly occupied with the study of keloids, and a number of men had been induced to remove their garments and submit to my inspection. This stimulated the headman, who was more intelligent than most of his companions, to attempt the reproduction of two such figures.
The majority of the other drawings, not only represent actual incidents, but are derived from the artist’s personal experience. The drawing of the s.s. Rufiji (p. [18]), done from memory, far inland, by the Swahili Bakari, has a huge shark in the foreground, because it is a reminiscence of a voyage in that vessel, when he saw that particular shark at a certain place which, no doubt, he could point out with unerring accuracy. When the carrier, Juma, brought me his “Monkeys breaking into a plantation” (p. [168]), he accompanied it with this explanation—“But, Bwana Mkubwa, that is my shamba, and I threw stones at the monkeys, and drove them away; there were seven of them—great big ones.”
Of portraits in the strict sense, “Bana Pufesa” (the Professor), by one of the soldiers (see p. [368]) and the stilt-dancer on p. [237] by my cook, Omari, both belong to the early days of the expedition, when I had not yet lost the charm of novelty, and the Bondei man had only seen one masquerader on stilts. Poor as Omari’s work is in other respects, he on this occasion showed considerable courage in attempting to represent his subject in full face, which a beginner very seldom ventures to do. That my right eye should be seen wandering through space like a star, is not surprising; that eye exists, and therefore it must appear in the drawing.