CAPE GUARDAFUI
Native Life in East Africa
CHAPTER I
OUTWARD BOUND
Dar es Salam, Whit-Sunday, 1906.
Six months ago it would not have entered my head in my wildest dreams that I should spend my favourite festival, Whitsuntide, under the shade of African palms. But it is the fact, nevertheless. I have now been two days in the capital of German East Africa, a spot which may well fascinate even older travellers than myself. Not that the scenery is strikingly grand or majestic—on the contrary, lofty mountain-masses and mighty rivers are conspicuous by their absence, and the wide expanse of the open ocean contributes nothing directly to the picture, for Dar es Salam lies inland and has no seaview worth mentioning. The charm of the landscape lies rather in one of the happiest combinations of flashing waters, bright foliage, and radiant sunshine that can be imagined.
The entrance to the harbour gives to the uninitiated no hint of the beauty to come. A narrow channel, choked with coral reefs, and, by its abrupt turns, making severe demands on the skill of the pilot, leads to the central point of a shallow bay which seems to have no outlet. Suddenly, however, the vessel glides past this central point into an extraordinarily narrow channel, with steep green banks on either side, which opens out, before the traveller has had time to recover from his astonishment, into a wide, glittering expanse, covered with ships. That is the famous bay of Dar es Salam. In presence of the obvious advantages of this locality, one need not have lived for years in the country to understand why the Germans should have been willing to give up the old caravan emporium of Bagamoyo with its open roadstead for this splendid harbour, and thus make the almost unknown native village of Dar es Salam the principal place in the colony.[[2]]
DAR ES SALAM HARBOUR
On the voyage out, I visited with much enjoyment both Mombasa and Zanzibar, though unfortunately prevented by an accident (an injury to my foot) from going ashore at the German port of Tanga. Of these two English centres, Zanzibar represents the past, Mombasa the present, and still more the future. It is true that Zanzibar has the advantage in its situation on an island at a considerable distance from the mainland, an advantage of which the mainland towns, however splendid their future development, will never be able to deprive it, since their lines of communication, both economic and intellectual, will always converge on Zanzibar. But since the completion of the Uganda Railway, Mombasa forms the real gateway to the interior, and will do so in an increasing degree, as the economic development of Central Africa—now only in its infancy—goes on. Whether our two great German railways—as yet only projected—can ever recover the immense advantage gained by Mombasa, the future will show. We must hope for the best.