Through British Guiana to the summit of Roraima

by Mrs. Cecil Clementi

For the first and only time on the journey Haywood failed to have his fire alight before dawn. His excuse, as he arrived by daylight, was an entirely adequate one. To reach the bush-covered island, where he and the Indians had slept, it was necessary to wade knee-deep in water, and he did not like to attempt the ford in the dark. So we got off somewhat later than usual, and after fifteen minutes’ march forded the Arabupu. This stream, running very fast and deep, at times nearly carried me off my feet. The water rose well above my husband’s knees, and the squat little Indian women were up to their waists. From now onwards until we halted for breakfast we were walking over prairie land, mostly on the upward trend, towards the nearest corner of Roraima’s south-eastern wall where the Töwashing pinnacle separates itself from the mass, and we came gradually round to face the south-western side. Flights of locusts rose in all directions on our approach. We walked sharply to keep ourselves warm. Roraima and Kukenaam were at first impenetrably hidden in fog; but, as the day wore on, the sun came out and very gradually dispersed the clouds. Nearer and nearer we came, the great cliffs, rendered peculiarly mysterious by the flying clouds that partly enveloped them, for ever changing their shapes, till I said to myself: “Either I am dreaming it all, or else I have had a touch of sunstroke; but that scene cannot be real.”

We breakfasted in sun and wind in a hollow by a small brook, and then set off again, proceeding to the edge of the tableland, which then falls abruptly down in steep-sided terraces to the basin of the Kukenaam River. We dropped down some one thousand feet into this valley in the course of an hour, and then walked up the left bank of the Kukenaam River over flat ground, intersected by streams and swamps, under a broiling sun, in blinding glare—not a pleasant walk. A march of one and a quarter hours through this country brought us to the Töwashing, a stream which leaps from the Töwashing pinnacle of Mount Roraima to join the Kukenaam, and, fording it, we filed into Kamaiwâwong village half an hour later, amidst an ominous silence. My mind had been plagued with a presentiment that some hitch would befall us here. Several travellers have reached this spot and yet failed to conquer Roraima, one of the last being Dr. Crampton, a professor from the United States, who became convinced that the Arekunas meant to murder him, and simultaneously that the ascent of Roraima “to satisfy a purely personal ambition” would be “unjustifiable.”[2] The fact that Kamaiwâwong was entirely empty and deserted was far from reassuring. Not so much as a dog was there to bark at us. We sat down in the shade of one of the banaboos and sent Joseph with a deputation up a small hill to the village of Tekwonno, about half a mile off, across the Kukenaam River. This, too, looked ominously empty, and soon the deputation returned saying, “No man.” Roraima and Kukenaam stood for the first time entirely clear of cloud, gazing down upon us as much as to say, “There is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.”

It was rather an uncomfortable position. We had about thirty very hungry people with us. They had been reckless with the food-supplies; and, when Mr. Menzies remonstrated, Joseph had declared: “Arekuna, plenty cassava.” But at the “breakfast” hour this day more than half of our followers had had nothing to eat. We resolved, therefore, to establish ourselves at Kamaiwâwong as comfortably as possible for the night, and on the morrow, if the Arekunas did not return, as we hoped they would do, to send out a raiding party to find their provision-fields and to bring in cassava, whilst we, with another party, would attempt to make our way up the mountain. With field-glasses we could see quite clearly, running up the cliff-face, the ledge by which all ascents of Mount Roraima have been made since Sir Everard im Thurn first found the way in 1884, a line of green across the red face of the rock.

Roraima and Kukenaam stand on the same vast pediment of highland savannah. Doubtless in remote ages they were one mountain.[3] Above the savannah slopes is a girdle of forest, out of which the gigantic cliff-walls start up vertically a thousand feet into the air, dominating and dwarfing all beside. The whole scale is so huge that eyes unaccustomed to it are easily deceived as to the distances involved. The precipices seemed to be close at hand, but in reality they were not less than four miles away from us in the direct line of vision to the nearest point. The twin mountains are divided by a deep rift between their cliffs, and from the summit of Mount Kukenaam on the west side of this rift the Kukenaam River leaps in a mighty waterfall, the spray and mists of which surge to and fro in the gorge, filling and concealing it, and often making the cliffs of the two colossi appear to be one continuous escarpment.

Rather glumly we established ourselves in Kamaiwâwong. The village takes its name from the Kamaiwa, a small stream which, after springing vertically a thousand feet downwards from the point on Roraima where the ledge athwart the cliff-face reaches the summit of that grim wall, flows past Kamaiwâwong, between it and Tekwonno, to join the Kukenaam River. The banaboos are built on a little plain, some 3,700 feet above sea-level. We chose a circular one for our dwelling. Only its walls to windward had been filled in, so that it was the reverse of stuffy. Mr. Menzies, with Joseph, Haywood, and Thomas, occupied a house near by, whilst the others spread themselves about in other buildings. Kamaiwâwong was quite as large as Mataruka village, and had an imposing church. The house of Jeremiah, its late chief, stood in the centre, the doorway blocked up with earth-sods. He had recently died.

We unpacked and settled down, and it was beginning to get dusk, when Joseph called out “Arekuna yebu” (i.e., coming), and pointed to a hill on the other side of the Kukenaam River, where his keen eyes had detected moving figures. The word went round the camp, “Arekuna yebu.” It was a very great relief! Just as night fell, three stalwart fellows strode up in single file, all carrying guns, the first and last naked, the centre one attired in a blue coat and trousers and brown wide-awake hat. All had ear-rings and painted faces. They wore an absurdly jaunty delighted-to-see-you air, held out their hands, ejaculated “How-do?” and laughed cheerily. They then pointed to the mountain and said: “Roroyima (such is the Arekuna pronunciation) piff-piff-piff-paff-whizz,” or at least that is what it sounded like; and it clearly meant: “It is a long way up there; do you want to go?” We signified that we did, and, moreover, that we wanted cassava and kapong (i.e., men). They squatted down beside us, and said: “Yes, yes, to-morrow, Schoolmaster yebu.” “Indeed?” we said; “but what side Schoolmaster and what side all man?” They pointed across the hills, over which they had come, and said, “Wrayanda-aniafpai banaboo”; so we sent off the blue-suited fellow with a lamp to return to, and hasten, his people, the other couple remaining with us.

Kamaiwâwong had evidently been abandoned by the villagers, Indian fashion, so that Jeremiah’s manes might have peace; but we never discovered for certain why Tekwonno also had been deserted. The Arekunas afterwards said, “Wrayanda-aniafpai plenty cassava,” as though to imply that they were all employed there preparing cassava; but this would not account for every man, woman, child, dog, and fowl having cleared out. It is more likely that they misdoubted our intentions, and removed themselves and their belongings until they were reassured. Mr. Menzies laid it to a “guilty conscience.” He said the Arekunas are often brigands, raid Makusi fields, and carry off their women; and that, seeing a large party approach, they preferred to seek safety in flight until they were assured that vengeance was not about to overtake them.

We went to bed much relieved, and hoping to make the ascent next day—a fallacious hope as it proved; but really we were all the better for having a day’s rest forced upon us, after six consecutive marches, during which we had covered the distance of some ninety-three miles between Puwa and Kamaiwâwong. The night was very cold. We piled our mackintoshes on top of our blankets to keep in the warmth; but from 3 a.m. onwards it was too cold to sleep, and we were up at dawn preparing for the climb. Only our camp-beds, our two bedding-bags, and one small canister, were to be carried with us, and we were ready to start before any more Arekunas had come in. So we sat down to solace ourselves with “the virtuous Macaulay,” hoping to make at all events a half day’s march. At about 11 a.m. a long string of Arekunas arrived, beating a tom-tom, and much decorated with paint and necklaces. One man had painted coat-buttons down his naked chest! They brought with them cassava and bananas, a clucking hen, and sat-on eggs, also nineteen magnificent pineapples, which they laid out in rows on the floor of our banaboo. Those pineapples were quite the most delicious I ever tasted. But to all inquiries as to making a start the Arekunas merely replied, “Schoolmaster yebu,” so that we had to resign ourselves to further delay. The newcomers brought a gourd of paiwarri with them, which they offered to our people. This is a highly alcoholic beverage, and made the eyes of the drinkers shine unnaturally. We were glad to see that there was not much of it.

The day was brilliantly fine; not a cloud speck on either of the great mountains, whose cliff-faces shone red above the green tree-belts. We felt we were letting opportunity sadly slip by us, but there was nothing to be done. The glare from the barren earth-terrace, on which an Indian village always stands, was blinding, so we spent nearly all day within the welcome shade of our banaboo. Arekunas—men, women, and children—arrived in small parties at intervals all day long, and our hungry Makusis were regaled with the much-desired cassava and cassiri. Towards nightfall Schoolmaster came in, evidently the chief of the tribe. Why he has this peculiar name I do not know. He is a big, stalwart individual, all muscle and sinew, full of gaiety and laughter, as seems to be the Arekuna habit, and we explained to him, pointing to the summit of Roraima, that we wished to be there the next day. After nightfall the moon shone brilliantly, so that we had an opportunity of seeing the mountains in all lights. It was an unforgettable scene of mystery and beauty.