There is something solemn and awe-inspiring about the entrance to Lindi Bay. As the vessel rounds Cape Banura, a mighty basin, perhaps nine miles by three, spreads itself out before us. The green hills surrounding it are not high, but yet by no means insignificant, and they fall away in steep declivities to the sea, especially on the south side. The Rufiji looks a black speck on this glittering silvery expanse. The little town of Lindi lies picturesquely enough among groves of coco-palms and Casuarina, on a tongue of land formed by the shore at the back of the rectangular bay and the left bank of a seemingly vast river, which we can see penetrating into the country behind Lindi. The geographer knows, however, that this mighty channel—from 800 to 1,200 yards broad—represents the estuary of the tiny Lukuledi, which at the present day could not possibly fill such a bed. What we look upon as its mouth is really the whole valley of a much older Lukuledi, now sunk beneath the level of the Indian Ocean. All our harbours on this coast have originated in the same way:—Dar es Salam, Kilwa Kisiwani, Lindi and Mikindani are all flooded river-valleys. Africa with its unwieldy mass looks dull enough, I admit, on the map; but examined at close quarters the continent is interesting in all its parts, as we find even before we have landed on its shores.
ARAB DHOW. DRAWN BY STAMBURI, A SOLDIER BELONGING TO THE AWEMBA TRIBE
CHAIN-GANG. DRAWN BY SALIM MATOLA, A MNYASA
CHAPTER III
APPRENTICESHIP
Lindi, July 9, 1906.
Africa is the land of patience. All my predecessors had ample opportunity for acquiring and exercising that virtue, and it seems that I am not to be spared the necessary trials. After being nearly three weeks inactive at Dar es Salam, to be detained for about the same period in another coast town is rather too much, especially when the time for the whole journey is so limited, and the best part of the year—the beginning of the dry season—is passing all too quickly.
At Dar es Salam the paucity of steamer communication furnished the reason for delay, while here at Lindi it is the absence of the District Commissioner and the consequent lack of available police. The authorities will not hear of my starting without an armed escort, but soldiers are only to be had when Mr. Ewerbeck returns, so that I am compelled, whether I like it or not, to await his arrival. Not that I have found the waiting wearisome, either here or at Dar es Salam. The latter place, with its varied population and numerous European residents, would be novel and striking enough to attract the mere tourist, while, for my own part, I had an additional interest in the preparation for my future work. This consisted in seeing as much of the natives as time permitted. Many a morning and afternoon have I spent in their huts or yards, and succeeded in securing some good phonographic records of the songs sung at ngoma dances, besides numerous solos and melodies played by members of various tribes on their national instruments. On one occasion, indeed, the officials very kindly got up a dance expressly for my convenience. Unfortunately all the cinematograph negatives I took on that occasion were either blurred by shaking or over-exposed, so that we had to be content with some tolerable photographs of the peculiar dances, and the excellent phonographic records of the songs. Of the dances and their accompaniments I shall have more to say later.
