Resuming our march through the maritime region, on July 15th we penetrated into a thick and tangled jungle, with luxuriant and putrescent vegetation. Presently, however, the dense thicket opened out into a fine park country, peculiarly rich in game, where the giant trees of the seaboard gave way to mimosas, gums, and stunted thorns. Large gnus pranced about, pawing the ground and shaking their formidable manes; hartebeest and other antelopes clustered together on the plain. The homely cry of the partridge resounded from the brake, and the guinea-fowls looked like large bluebells upon the trees. Small land-crabs took refuge in pits and holes, which made the path a cause of frequent accidents, whilst ants of various kinds, crossing the road in close columns, attacked man and beast ferociously,
causing the caravan to break into a halting, trotting hobble. The weather was a succession of raw mists, rain in torrents, and fiery sunbursts; the land appeared rotten, and the jungle smelt of death. At Kiruru I found a cottage and enjoyed for the first time an atmosphere of sweet, warm smoke. My companion would remain in the reeking, miry tent, where he partially laid the foundations of the fever which afterwards threatened his life in the mountains of Usagara.
Despite the dangers of hyenas, leopards, and crocodiles, we were delayed by the torrents of rain in the depths of the mud at Kiruru. We then resumed our march under most unpromising conditions. Thick grass and the humid vegetation rendered the black earth greasy and slippery, and the road became worse as we advanced. In three places we crossed bogs from a hundred yards to a mile in length, and admitting a man up to the knee. The porters plunged through them like laden animals, and I was obliged to be held upon the ass. At last we reached Dut’humi, where we were detained nearly a week, for malaria had brought on attacks of marsh fever, which, in my case, thoroughly prostrated me. I had during the fever fit, and often for hours afterwards, a queer conviction of divided identity, never ceasing to be two persons that generally thwarted and opposed each other. The sleepless nights brought with them horrid visions, animals of grisliest form, and hag-like women and men.
Dut’humi is one of the most fertile districts in K’hutu, and, despite its bad name as regards climate, Arabs sometimes reside here for some months for the purpose of purchasing slaves cheaply, and to repair their broken fortunes for a fresh trip into the interior. This kept up a perpetual feud amongst the chiefs of the country, and scarcely a month passed without fields being laid waste, villages burnt down, and the unhappy cultivators being carried off to be sold.
On July 24th, feeling strong enough to advance, we passed out of the cultivation of Dut’humi. Beyond the cultivation the road plunged into a jungle, where the European traveller realised every preconceived idea of Africa’s aspect at once hideous and grotesque. The general appearance is a mingling of bush and forest, most monotonous to the eye. The black, greasy ground, veiled with thick shrubbery, supports in the more open spaces screens of tiger and spear grass twelve and thirteen feet high, with every blade a finger’s breadth; and the towering trees are often clothed with huge creepers, forming heavy columns of densest verdure. The earth, ever rain-drenched, emits the odour of sulphuretted hydrogen, and in some parts the traveller might fancy a corpse to be hidden behind every bush. That no feature of miasma might be wanting to complete the picture, filthy heaps of the meanest hovels sheltered their miserable inhabitants, whose frames are lean with constant intoxication, and whose limbs are distorted with ulcerous sores. Such a revolting scene is
East Africa from Central K’hutu to the base of the Usagara Mountains.
After a long, long tramp the next day through rice swamps, we came to the nearest outposts of the Zungomero district. Here were several caravans, with pitched tents, piles of ivory, and crowds of porters. The march had occupied us over four weeks, about double the usual time, and a gang of thirty-six Wanyamwezi native porters whom I had sent on in advance to Zungomero naturally began to suspect accident.
Zungomero was not a pleasant place, and though the sea breeze was here strong, beyond its influence the atmosphere was sultry and oppressive. It was the great centre of traffic in the eastern regions. Lying upon the main trunk road, it must be traversed by the up and down caravans, and during the travelling season, between June and April, large bodies of some thousand men pass through it every week. It was, therefore, a very important station, and the daily expenditure of large caravans being considerable, there was a good deal of buying and selling.
The same attractions which draw caravans to Zungomero render it the great rendezvous of an army of touts, who, whilst watching the arrival of ivory traders, amuse themselves with plundering the country.
Zungomero is the end of the maritime region, and when I had reached it, I considered that the first stage of my journey was accomplished.