From a botanical point of view, also, the visitor finds himself well repaid for his trouble. Once in the shadow of these hills, the desolation of the pori is forgotten as if by magic; one plantation succeeds another, and patches of all the different varieties of millet bow their heavy cobs and plumes in the fresh morning breeze, which is a real refreshment after the stifling heat of the long day’s march through the bush. Beans of all kinds, gourds and melons, rejoice the eye with their fresh green, on either side of the path the mhogo (manioc) spreads its branches with their pale-green leaves and pink stalks. Wherever there is an interval between these various crops, the bazi pea rattles in its pod. This fertility (astonishing for the southern part of German East Africa) is only rendered possible by the geological constitution of the soil. Wherever we have set foot on the main road, and north and south of the same, as far as the eye can reach, the principal constituents of the upper stratum have been loamy sand and sandy loam. In places where the action of water has been more marked, we find an outcrop of bare, smooth gneiss rocks; or the ground is covered with hard quartzite, crunching under foot. Only where these mighty gneiss ranges break the monotony does anyone examining the country with an eye to its economic value find full satisfaction. Gneiss weathers easily and forms excellent soil, as the natives have long ago discovered; and, though they by no means despise the less fertile tracts, yet the most favoured sites for settlements have always been those in the immediate vicinity of the gneiss islands. Masasi, with its enormous extent, taking many hours to traverse, is the typical example of such economic insight.
Since this would naturally attract people from all directions, it is not to be wondered at if a question as to the tribal affinities of the Masasi people should land one in a very chaos of tribes. Makua, Wayao, Wangindo, a few Makonde, and, in addition a large percentage of Coast men:—such are the voluntary immigrants to this little centre of social evolution. To these we must add a miscellaneous collection of people belonging to various tribes of the far interior, who are here included under the comprehensive designation of Wanyasa. These Wanyasa are the living testimony to an experiment devised in the spirit of the highest philanthropy, which, unfortunately, has not met with the success hoped for and expected by its promoters. This very region was some decades ago the scene of an extremely active slave-traffic; the trade, kept up by the Zanzibar and Coast Arabs, preferred the route through this easily-traversed and at that time thickly-populated country. The situation of Kilwa Kivinje on a bay so shallow that Arab slave-dhows, but not the patrolling gun-boats of rigidly moral Powers, can anchor there, is to this day a speaking testimony to that dark period in the not excessively sunny history of Africa.
In order to get at the root of the evil, English philanthropists have for many years been in the habit of causing the unhappy victims driven down this road in the slave-stick, to be ransomed by the missionaries and settled on their stations as free men. The principal settlement of this kind is that among the gneiss peaks of Masasi. The Christian world cherished the hope that these liberated slaves might be trained into grateful fellow-believers and capable men. But when one hears the opinion of experienced residents in the country, it is not possible without a strong dose of preconceived opinion to see in these liberated converts anything better than their compatriots. The fact remains and cannot by any process of reasoning be explained away, that Christianity does not suit the native; far less, in any case than Islam, which unhesitatingly allows him all his cherished freedom.
Personally, however, I must say I have not so far noticed any discreditable points in the character of the Masasi people; all who have come in contact with me have treated me in the same friendly fashion as the rest of those I have come across in this country. Such contact has by no means been wanting in spite of the shortness of my stay here, since I have thrown myself into my work with all the energy of which I am capable, and am convinced that I have already seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears a large and important part of the people’s life.
The very beginning of my studies was remarkably promising. The Mission station of Masasi lies a short hour’s walk north north-eastward from us, immediately under the precipitous side of Mtandi Mountain. This Mtandi is the most imposing peak of the whole range; it rises in an almost vertical cliff directly behind the straw huts of the Mission, ending, at a height of nearly 3,100 feet in a flat dome. District Commissioner Ewerbeck and I had already, when riding past it on the day of our arrival, determined to visit this mountain; and we carried out our project a day or two later. The trip was not without a certain fascination. At 4.30 a.m. in a pitch-dark tropical night, we were ready to march, the party consisting of two Europeans and half-a-dozen carriers and boys, with Ewerbeck’s Muscat donkey and my old mule. As quickly as the darkness allowed, the procession passed along the barabara, turning off to the left as we approached Mtandi. The animals with their attendants were left behind at the foot of the mountain, while the rest of us, making a circuit of the Mission grounds, began our climbing practice.
I had equipped myself for my African expedition with the laced boots supplied by Tippelskirch expressly for the tropics. When I showed these to “old Africans” at Lindi, they simply laughed at me and asked what I expected to do in this country with one wretched row of nails on the edge of the sole. They advised me to send the things at once to Brother William at the Benedictine Mission, who earns the gratitude of all Europeans by executing repairs on shoes and boots. Brother William, in fact, very kindly armed my boots with a double row of heavy Alpine hobnails, and I wore a pair the first day out from Lindi, but never again on the march. They weighed down my feet like lead, and it soon appeared that the heavy nails were absolutely unnecessary on the fine sand of the barabara. After that first day, I wore my light laced shoes from Leipzig, which make walking a pleasure. Here, on the other hand, on the sharp ridges of Mtandi, the despised mountain boots rendered me excellent service.
I prefer to omit the description of my feelings during this ascent. It grew lighter, and we went steadily upwards, but this climbing, in single file, from rock to rock and from tree to tree was, at any rate for us two well-nourished and comfortable Europeans, by no means a pleasure. In fact, we relinquished the ambition of reaching the highest peak and contented ourselves with a somewhat lower projection. This was sensible of us, for there was no question of the magnificent view we had expected; the heights and the distant landscape were alike veiled in thick mist, so that even the longest exposure produced no effect to speak of on my photographic plates.
BUSH-FIRE ON THE MAKONDE PLATEAU
