My Reminiscences of East Africa

by Paul Emil von Lettow-Vorbeck

The journey was continued via Ufiome Mission, where the excellent Father Dürr was settled, to Kondoa-Irangi, Kilimatinde and back to Dar-es-Salaam. The impression left by this first inspection was that from a military point of view there was still a great deal to be done if we wished to be properly prepared in case the English should make war on us. Unfortunately I did not succeed in arousing sufficient interest in the matter on the part of the authorities. The ruling opinion was that we were on exceptionally good terms with the English, and that a war, if it came at all, was still in the distant future. Thus it happened that when war actually did break out but a few months later we were unprepared.

For me, a new-comer in East Africa, the journey had not only been of military interest. At Boma la Ngombe, a place between Moshi and Arusha, a number of old Askari had been settled by the late Lieutenant-Colonel Johannes; they were mainly engaged in cattle-dealing, and had become well-to-do. The news of my coming had preceded me, and the people appeared in full strength to greet me on my arrival. I had the impression that this was not a mere show of loyalty; the people not only told me enthusiastically of Germans under whom they had previously served, but after the outbreak of war, unasked and without the slightest pressure, they placed a large sum of money at our disposal to help the force. In that district I also saw the first Masai, who, in contrast to the majority of the East African tribes, are pure Hamites, and live in a special reservation. It may be mentioned that Merker, the best authority on the Masai,[1] considers them to be the original Jews. They possess to a marked degree the characteristics of the pure inhabitant of the prairie. Occasionally, one of these tall, slim, and very swift men acted as my guide on hunting expeditions; their vision and skill as trackers are astonishing. In addition, the Masai is intelligent, and, at any rate towards strangers, an extraordinary liar. He lives in closed villages of mud huts, and, like all nomads, wanders with his herds over the prairie. He seldom enlists in the force. In agriculture the Masai engages hardly at all, whereas among the other tribes this forms the chief occupation and is a necessary condition for close settlement. Thus the banana districts on the eastern slopes of Kilima Njaro support a native Wajagga population of some twenty-five thousand souls, and this number could easily be increased. The great wealth of cattle in the neighbourhood of Arusha, on the Masai prairie, and near Kondoa-Irangi, showed me that the tse-tse fly, the principal enemy of African cattle, is comparatively rare in those parts. As a comparison, I may state that the cattle in the single district of Arusha are estimated to be more numerous than in the whole of South-West Africa. At Kondoa-Irangi and Singida the people had come from a great distance, and had lined the road to greet me. No traveller who visits these countries can fail to observe that in the fertile, elevated interior there is room for the settlement of hundreds of thousands of Europeans. Here I would like to record an impression which I only obtained later, during the war. At times we passed through fertile districts which were completely forsaken by the inhabitants, but which were known not to have been occupied even in the previous year. They had simply moved away, had settled somewhere else in the abundantly available, empty and fertile country, and had there begun to cultivate fresh fields. If the country capable of cultivation were fully utilized, it would probably be possible to support in German East Africa, which has hitherto been inhabited by about eight millions only, a population barely less than that of Germany. An Englishman captured during the war at Mahenge remarked that it would be possible to make East Africa into a second India, and I think he was right. My experience in the war has confirmed my opinion that there exist many possibilities of economic development, of which we had hardly an inkling before the war.

At Singida I saw one of the stud-farms of the country. For breeding purposes there were two horse stallions, no mares, a few Muscat donkey stallions, and mainly country-bred donkey mares. Of the objects it was sought to attain I could get no clear idea; in any case, the crossing of horse stallions and donkey mares had produced no results. But the district is extraordinarily suitable for horse-breeding, and the Government Veterinary Officer Hiffmeister, who was stationed there, was very inclined to settle in the country as a private farmer and horse-breeder. Similar stud-farms existed at Kilimatinde, Iringa and Ubena. From Singida to Kilimatinde I followed the Mpondi River; the sportsman will be interested to know that this is the district in which the best buffaloes in East Africa are said to be found. A few days before I had successfully hunted buffalo, but I had not succeeded in getting a shot at a powerful bull, and so, as far as time permitted, I was out for buffalo. Besides a native boy, I had as trackers two excellent Askari of the Konda Company. As soon as I arrived in camp at the end of a march and dismounted from my mule, I would ask Kadunda, one of these Askari, who had done the march on foot, whether he was ready to hunt. He always agreed with the greatest enthusiasm, and away we went through the bush, which was sometimes so dense that one had to crawl under the branches in order to get through at all. For the European not yet accustomed to the African climate it is extraordinarily fatiguing to follow a trail through dense bush and high grass reaching over one’s head for hours on end in the blazing sun. The wounded buffalo is considered to be the most dangerous game in East Africa; he often charges at once with great determination. At Mpondi, a short time before, a wounded buffalo had attacked a hunter so suddenly that the latter did indeed find himself seated on its neck, but would hardly have escaped with his life unless at the critical moment his sun-helmet had fallen off. The animal then proceeded to attack the helmet, and the man managed to get a shot at its heart. From this and similar tales it will be understood that as the trail gets warmer and warmer, one’s excitement becomes intense and one’s senses more acute. But although I often heard the buffalo breathing only a few paces from me, the bush was so thick that I could not get a shot. I had already abandoned all hope of success and had marched off with my caravan for good and all, when at seven in the morning we crossed a perfectly fresh buffalo trail. At this point the forest was clearer, and the guides seemed keen to follow the tracks. So we let the caravan go on, and after four hours of exhausting tracking got a sight of the buffalo. In a clearing, at one hundred yards, I raised my rifle, but Kadunda would not allow it, and insisted on our stalking the quarry, which was passing us in quite open wood without undergrowth, up to within thirty yards. Luckily the bullet cut the main artery; the buffalo fell at once, and so any further possible developments of the episode were cut short. As often happens, we discovered in the animal’s body a bullet from a native gun. Besides this buffalo I had got a large number of antelope and gazelle of various kinds; lions we often heard, but never caught sight of.

On this march through the “Pori” I learned, to my astonishment, that even in the interior of Africa it is no easy matter to disappear without a trace. I had marched off without leaving word what road I intended to take. Suddenly, in the heart of the bush, a native met us on the march, and handed me the oversea mail. The fact is that in their interchange of information the inhabitants tell each other everything that happens in their vicinity. Calls, fire signals, and the signal drums serve to exchange and quickly spread all news. The incredible way in which the innumerable rumours spread abroad, with which I became acquainted later on, is mainly due to this communicativeness.

After returning to Dar-es-Salaam from the first journey of inspection, I immediately made arrangements for re-arming three more companies; up to date only three companies had been equipped with modern rifles. It subsequently became a factor of the greatest importance that, at any rate, these arms, with the necessary ammunition, reached the Colony just in time for the outbreak of war.

During a tour of inspection in April to Lindi, where I saw the Third Field Company, I fell into a rocky hole and got water on the knee so that I could not start my next long journey till the end of May. Although the Central Railway was open for public traffic only as far as Tabora, the construction had proceeded so far that I could reach Kigoma (on Lake Tanganyika) by rail, and was thus already enabled to acquire a superficial knowledge of this important means of communication which connected our coast directly with the Lake and the rich countries bordering on it, and indirectly with the Congo basin. At Kigoma the steamer Coetzen was still building, and to reach Bismarckburg I made use of the small steamer Hedwig von Wissman. At Baudouinville, in the Congo Territory, I paid a short visit to the Bishop of the White Fathers, without suspecting how soon we would be at war with that country. The wonderful church would be an ornament to any of our towns. It had been built by the Fathers themselves and the interior was decorated with rich carvings. Extensive, splendid orchards surround the station. The plague of lions must, however, be very great; the Fathers told me that a short time before a lion had one night jumped the wall into the court and killed an ox.

Our reception was very friendly, and we were made welcome with a glass of fine Algerian wine. We were also well received at Mwasyl Mission Station in German territory, where there were also White Fathers, mostly Belgians. During the war, however, we captured correspondence which proved that the French missionaries, who also lived at stations in the Tanganyika country, by no means confined themselves to spreading Christianity but intentionally carried on a national propaganda as well. One missionary’s letter defines the difference between a missionnaire catholique and a missionnaire français, remarking that the latter is bound, in addition to spreading the Christian faith, to carry on French national propaganda. It is well known that this national propaganda is a work from which the German missionaries generally refrained.

These missions, which are naturally to be found in the densely populated and well-cultivated countries, exercise a remarkable influence on the education of the natives. The missionary is mostly the only permanently settled white man; he becomes well acquainted with the country and people, and wins their confidence. The missions have deserved extremely well by introducing European handicrafts; everywhere one finds carpenters’ shops, shoemakers’ shops and brickworks.

My later tours disclosed that the extremely fertile country around Langenburg and Ssonga, where there are many wheatfields (the density of population is indicated even on the map by the numerous mission stations), was protected by only one company, which was not even connected by a direct wire. A telegram could only reach Langenburg from Dar-es-Salaam by the English line through South Africa. The communication by heliograph from Iringa to Langenburg was too unreliable to be considered an efficient substitute. It may be mentioned that in that country the natives have not only been educated up to agriculture by the Missions and by the German Administration, but that considerable native industries have been indigenous there for a long time past. Where iron occurs one finds numerous forges, the bellows being made in the primitive manner out of hides and perforated branches. Very beautiful are the native weavers’ products; basket-work is also done here as almost everywhere else in the Colony, and the work not only shows good taste, but is so close that the natives use wickerwork cups for drinking. The large herds owned by a few European farmers suffered, owing to the poorly developed communications, from the difficulty of reaching a market; this is especially the case with Mbeya Farm, between Lake Nyassa and Tanganyika.