We did not see Mount Roraima from the Karto tableland; but I do not doubt that from one or other of the savannah hills which surround that plateau it would be possible to see Roraima, if by fortunate coincidence one reached the proper point of observation at a time when the mountain was free from cloud; for on our way back we saw Roraima from many hill-tops, and even from valleys, which on the way out vouchsafed us no such view. We did, however, from Karto get our first sight of Mount Chakbang, standing out conspicuously far away to the west, a rugged finger pointing to the sky, and the mountains of Mataruka were plainly visible.
We awoke next morning to find a slight drizzle falling, but it soon cleared off into a brilliantly sunny day. All the Karto people came to see us—men, women and children, dogs and waracabra. Indians are very fond of tame birds, but do not keep them in cages. They fly about as they like. These villagers were Makusis, and appeared very friendly. Our droghers were revived and gay, having had overnight a feast of cassava and cassiri. Cassiri, which is a drink made from cassava, has a magical effect on these people. It seems to cheer without inebriating—in fact, it has rather the effect which a cup of good tea or coffee has on a tired European.
Our road for a couple of hours now lay over the glorious grass plateau which forms part of Mr. Menzies’ ranch. Walking was perfectly delightful in that exhilarating highland air. We had enchanting views of blue distance in all directions. Far on our left the tableland was bounded by the rift of the Kowa River, beyond which rolling forest-clad hills faded into the horizon, whilst nearer to the right the head-waters of the Chiung River wound away among green savannah mountains, in the knees of which lay little rounded terraces and small gulleys, studded with eta-palm. These hills form another tableland about five hundred feet higher than the one which we traversed, and would probably be a good country for sheep. None of these smiling, healthy highlands are marked on the Colony’s maps, and their very existence has, in the past, been steadfastly denied.
Mount Mataruka lay south-west of us, almost in a straight line with our path; but, although we ultimately climbed over its shoulder, our route first made a wide détour, taking us to Puwa village. From the south-west end of Mr. Menzies’ tableland we descended some seven hundred feet in half an hour to a narrow gorge, where four streams, falling in picturesque cascades from the plateau, converge to form the Kowyann, a tributary of the Chiung. From this point the Makusis had opened a bridle track for us through the small forest belts which separate the wide stretches of savannah; and we could have ridden on horseback the rest of the way to the Ireng but for the fact that, owing to a misunderstanding between the chief at Mataruka and a chief in the Kotinga valley, where the horses were, “shanks his mare” had still to be our mount. We breakfasted beside the Kowyann, and then took our way down its valley, steep grassy hills rising on either side of us. We travelled alternately through little savannahs, whose long waving grass and crooked trees, pretending to be apple-trees, had a queer resemblance to an English orchard, and through patches of woodland. The shade in these little forest belts was very grateful, as the sun was extremely hot. A march of one and a quarter hours down the Kowyann valley brought us to Chiung village, where we spent the night.
This village stands on the left bank of the Chiung River, and here a large gathering of Makusis had assembled. They seemed very pleased to see us, and explained that they had cut a broad trail all the way to Puwa. They also provided an abundance of cassava and cassiri for our droghers. The village consisted of two houses, with a third unfinished one, which was being erected for us. The frame was all in place, the wooden bars tied neatly together with bark-fibre, according to Indian fashion, for these people do not use any form of nail. The roof of our house was only partly thatched, and the sides were all open, a fortunate circumstance, as it was very hot in the enclosed valley. We used our tarpaulin to screen ourselves off from the rest of the village, which was about fifty yards away, and at night we enjoyed the brilliant stars, looking down upon us. We placed our beds immediately under the small portion of thatch which had been completed, for the excessively heavy dew of the savannahs makes it unpleasant to sleep entirely à la belle étoile. Until darkness fell we were much troubled by the biting kabouru-flies, which are slightly larger than the ordinary sand-flies. Their bite is much more irritating, and raises a red lump with a black spot in the centre. Though the lump soon dies down, the black speck remains for several days. I defended myself from the kabouru with a dark veil and gloves, but my husband and Mr. Menzies were soon sorry objects. The savannah Indians appear to suffer little, if any, irritation from the bites of kabouru, but the poor fellows from Arnik and from the Demerara River, being unaccustomed to this pest, which is not known in the forests, were very much afflicted. In the highland savannahs kabouru-flies are generally found near water, and the larger the stream the worse the kabouru; so we had to pay for our close proximity to the Chiung River, which flowed with a delicious gurgling noise close to our banaboo. During the night Mr. Menzies’ quarters were invaded by a raiding dog, who carried off our excellent ham. This would have been a serious business had we not been approaching Puwa, the “Land of Plenty” as far as food is concerned.
Next morning (6th January) we left Chiung village at dawn with a large convoy, for all the village, including women and babies, came with us. Ten minutes after our start we forded the Chiung River, an operation which took another ten minutes and was great fun. The water, deliciously cold, rose to my knees. But very little walking in that savannah air soon dries one again completely, a delightful contrast to the bush!
The path we followed from Chiung to Puwa was nothing more than a big circuit round a hill. We should have preferred a short-cut over the summit; but the Indians having prepared a level track for us with much care along the valleys, we felt that it would be ungrateful not to take their line. This track ran through a thick belt of forest, fringing the banks of the Chiung; and the Makusis had most carefully straightened and cleared the forest path to a width of six to ten feet, removing most of the tree-stumps, while in places they had actually swept the ground clean of fallen leaves. The job must have given them a great deal of trouble, for the trees, though small, were of hardwood varieties, such as purple-heart and letter-wood, and the road-makers were justly proud of their work. We were two hours in this forest, but I was walking slowly, being tired by the unaccustomed exposure to sun during the two preceding days. Then the trail again emerged into savannah, having left the river, which winds away to the left round some hills that we crossed over a low col (1,550 feet above sea-level).
We now found ourselves in the Ireng valley, though at some distance from the river, and we halted for breakfast in the little belt of forest beside a small brook. Here we discovered that we were an enormous party, for half Puwa village, including Johnny’s wife and sons, had come out to meet us. The Makusis, as young men, are extremely handsome and well-made, full of life and movement. Johnny’s sons it was a treat to see, the eldest especially, a lad of about fifteen. He wore only a loin-cloth and necklace, with bracelets of beads, carried a bow and arrows, and simply flew about the place—never walked, but he ran, and every movement was as graceful as a cat’s. Then there was a dear little fellow about six, Edward by name, who greeted Haywood most affectionately, and became a zealous little cook’s mate. I remember we gave him and some small companions a few of the dried prunes we were eating, and they tied up each one most carefully in a separate leaf, and said they would take them to their mothers. I also remember in connection with that meal that Mr. Menzies and I incautiously partook of red peppers, supplied us by some hospitable friend, and cried in consequence many bitter and involuntary tears.
Our path next lay through a succession of little valleys with graceful eta-palms growing in all the creeks, and occasionally patches of bush, through which the Makusis had cut us a royal road. The trail, which had hitherto run east-south-east, now turned back on itself, the direction being west-north-west to the Puwa creek, which we forded after another two hours’ march; and from the ford it took us twenty minutes more to reach Puwa village. Our path was practically level and very good going all the way from Chiung to Puwa. The distance, as the crow flies, between those villages over the hill-tops is only some six miles, but we had come at least twice that distance. The provision-fields of Puwa village are in forest, close by the ford, and are very fertile. One yam brought from these fields and given to us was as much as a man could carry. The village itself stands on the right bank of the stream from which it takes its name, and is situated in a ring of hills, two of which we climbed, being rewarded by a very good view of the Ireng valley and of the river itself, flowing in a deep-cut trench. Everyone in Puwa was drawn up in festal array to meet us, very anxious to shake hands, and all who could boast clothes of any sort had them on. The ladies mostly had their skirts hung round them, immediately below their arm-pits, whilst the correct Puwa wear for trousers is to hang them round the shoulders, the seat forming a sort of mantle behind and the trouser legs quite handy to flap away flies or wipe a perspiring forehead, as need may arise. One boy there was who had, I should imagine, been away to work on some Brazilian ranch, for he was most magnificently got up in a white coat, blue trousers on his legs, and three necklaces; and he had a larger number of pins stuck through his lower lip than anyone else. He evidently fancied himself no end, so we christened him the “Nut.” Both Patamonas and Makusis have a habit of sticking pins, or, failing these, pieces of stick, through their lower lips. The Makusi women are very much shorter than the men, but their figures, save in girlhood, are not pretty. They carry splendidly, and I should think are as strong as the men. They are very squat and have immense legs, being beasts of burden from childhood, whereas the men only carry loads on state occasions. Indians generally live at a considerable distance from their provision-fields, and often at some height above water, so that the women are perpetually engaged in droghing. The Indian children seem to abound everywhere and to enjoy life. Indeed, I think they live in a children’s Paradise—no lessons, no clothes, no bed-time!