Muinyi Kidogo.
Mother and child.
CHAP. XVI.
WE RETURN TO UNYANYEMBE.
Immediately after the arrival of our caravan I made preparations for quitting Ujiji. The 26th May, 1858, was the day appointed for our departure, which was fated to resemble a flight more than the march of a peaceful Expedition. Said bin Salim, who had received as “Urangozi” or retaining-fee from his two African “brothers,” Lurinda and Kannena, a boy-slave and a youth, thought only of conveying them safely out of the country. The Baloch, especially the Jemadar, who had invested every cubit of cloth and every ounce of powder in serviles, were also trembling at the prospect of desertion. As usual, when these barbarians see preparations for departure, the Wajiji became more extortionate and troublesome than before. A general drinking-bout had followed the return of the crews from Uvira: Kannena had not been sober for a fortnight. At last his succession of violent and maudlin fits ended fortunately for us in a high fever, which somewhat tamed his vice. Shortly after our disappearance, his territory was attacked by the predal Watuta: and had not the Arabs assisted in its defence, it would doubtless have been converted into a grisly solitude, like the once fertile and populous Uhha. Kannena, of course, fled into the mountains from the attack of the gallant rascals: he had courage enough to bully, but not to fight. I heard of him no more: he showed no pity to the homeless stranger,—may the world show none to him!
I shall long remember the morning of the 26th May, which afforded me the last sunrise-spectacle of the Tanganyika Lake. The charm of the scenery was perhaps enhanced by the reflection that my eyes might never look upon it again. Masses of brown-purple clouds covered the quarter of the heavens where the sun was about to rise. Presently the mists, ruffled like ocean billows, and luminously fringed with Tyrian purple, were cut by filmy rays, whilst, from behind their core, the internal living fire shot forth its broad beams, like the spokes of a huge aërial wheel, rolling a flood of gold over the light blue waters of the lake. At last Dan Sol, who at first contented himself with glimmering through the cloud-mass, disclosed himself in his glory, and dispersed with a glance the obstacles of the vapourous earth: breaking into long strata and little pearly flakes, they soared high in the empyrean, whilst the all-powerful luminary assumed undisputed possession of earth, and a soft breeze, the breath of the morn, as it is called in the East, awoke the waters into life.
But I am not long to enjoy this mighty picture. A jarring din sings in my ears, contrasting strangely with the beautiful world before my eyes. A crowd of newly-engaged Pagazi are standing before me in the ecstasy of impatience: some poised like cranes upon the right foot, with the left sole placed against the knee, others with their arms thrown in a brotherly fashion round neighbours’ necks, whilst others squatted in the usual Asiatic and African position, with their posteriora resting upon their calves and heels, their elbows on their thighs, and their chins propped upon their hands, gazed at me with that long longing look which in these lands evidences a something sorely wanted. Presently, from Said bin Majid’s home-bound caravan, with which I had consented to travel, shots and a popping of muskets rang through the air: the restless crowd that still watched me appeared at the sound of this signal to lose their wits. In a moment the space before the Tembe was cleared. After a few moments, Said bin Salim ran up violently excited, declaring that his orders were of no avail, that some parties were starting with, and others without, their loads, and that no man would take up the burden assigned to him on the yesterday. I directed him to compose himself, and since he could not remain, to precede me with the headstrong gang as far as the Ruche River—the first stage—whence he would send back, as soon as possible, a few men bribed to carry my hammock and to remove the loose loads scattered upon the ground. These, as usual on such occasions, were our own. He departed greatly delighting in the opportunity of escaping further trouble, and of driving off his six wild slaves in safety: true to his inconsequential Arabo-African blood, however, neglecting the appointed station in the eagerness of hurry, he marched on with Said bin Majid’s men to at least double the distance, thus placing himself out of Kannena’s reach, and throwing all my arrangements into direst confusion.
Meanwhile, having breakfasted, we sat till the afternoon in the now empty and deserted Tembe, expecting the return of the slaves. As none appeared, I was induced by the utter misery depicted in the countenances of the Baloch, and trusting that the return-porters would meet us on the way, to give orders for a march about 4 P.M., to mount my manchil, and to set out carried by only two men. Scarcely had I left the Tembe when a small party, headed by Said bin Salim’s four children, passed by me at speed. Though summoned to halt, they sped onwards, apparently intending to fetch the loads from the house, and thus to relieve those left behind as a guard; it proved afterwards that they were bound for the bazar to buy plantains for their patroon. Meanwhile, hurrying on with one Baloch, the astute Gul Mohammed, Valentine, and three sons of Ramji, as the shades of evening closed around us, we reached, without guide or direction from the surly villagers, the ferry of the Ruche River. Disappointed at not finding the camp at the place proposed, we were punted across the Styx-like stream; and for what reason no man could say, the party took the swampy road along the Bay of Ukaranga. The mosquitos stung like wasps; the loud spoutings and the hollow bursts of bellow, snort, and grunt of the hippopotami—in these lands they are brave as the bulls of the Spanish sierras—and the roar of the old male crocodile startled the party, whilst the porters had difficulty in preserving their balance as they waded through water waist-deep, and crept across plains of mud, mire, and sea-ooze.
As the darkness rendered the march risky, I gave the word, when arrived at a bunch of miserable huts, for a bivouac; the party, had I permitted it, would have wandered through the outer glooms without fixed purpose till permanently bogged. We spread our bedding upon the clear space between the cane-cones acting hovels, and we snatched, under a resplendent moon, and a dew that soaked through the blankets, a few hours of sleep, expecting to be aroused by a guide and porters before the end of night. Gaetano had preceded us with the provisions and the batterie de cuisine; we were destitute even of tobacco, and we looked forward expectantly to the march. But the dawn broke, and morning flashed over the canopy above, and the sun poured his hot rays through the cool, clear air, still we found ourselves alone. The sons of Ramji, and the others composing our party, had gradually disappeared, leaving with us only Gul Mohammed. Taking heart of grace, we then cleared out a hut, divided the bedding, lay down in the patience of expectation, and dined on goat. Our neighbour afforded us some food for the mind. Apparently an Androgyne, she had the voice, the look, and the thorax of a man, whilst the dress and the manner argued her to be a woman; it was the only approach to the dubious sex seen by me in East Africa.
About 2 P.M. appeared Ramazan and Salman, children of Said bin Said, with four porters, an insufficient supply for the long and trying march which they described. They insisted upon our enduring the heat and labour of the day so energetically, that they were turned with ignominy out of the village, and were told to send their master to escort us in the evening or on the morning of the next day. Accordingly at 9 A.M. of the 28th May appeared Said bin Salim and the Jemadar, escorted by a full gang of bearers. The former, bursting with irritation, began that loud speaking which in the East is equivalent to impertinence; he was easily silenced by a more explosive and an angrier tone of voice. Having breakfasted, we set out leisurely, and after rejoining Said bin Majid’s party we advanced until evening fell upon us at the end of the first day’s stage.
I have related the tale of our departure from the Tanganyika somewhat circumstantially: it was truly characteristic of Arab travelling in Eastern Africa. Said bin Salim had scant cause for hurry: slaves rarely desert on the day of departure; knowing themselves to be watched they wait their opportunity, and find it perhaps—as our caravan discovered to its loss—a week or two afterwards. The Arab was determined to gain a few miles by passing the appointed station; he did so, and he lost two days. In his haste and dread of delay, he had neglected to lay in salt, ghee, or any other stores for the road but grain: consequently he was detained at half a dozen places to procure them. Finally, his froward children, who had done their utmost to waste time in the bazar, were not reproved, much less punished. Truly the half-caste Arab of Zanzibar is almost as futile as the slavish moiety of his ancestry.