Nothing even among the Somali Bedawin can be wilder than the specimens from Ukamba-ni; these Warimangao,[[16]] as the people of Mombasah call them, the ‘sons’ of the chief Kivoi, that danced and sang the Nyunbo or song of triumph in the streets of Mombasah. It was a perfect picture of savagery. About 50 blacks, ruddled with ochre, performed the Zumo (procession); men blowing Kudu-horns, or firing their muskets, and women ‘lullalooing.’ They sat with us for some hours drinking a sherbet of Ngizi, or molasses extracted from cocoa-tree toddy, and the number of gallons which disappeared were a caution. The warriors of the tribe, adorned with beads on the necks, loins, and ankles, were armed with the usual long bows and poisoned arrows, spears or rather javelins, knobsticks for striking or throwing; knives and two-edged swords of fine iron, the latter a rude imitation of the straight Omani blade, of which I afterwards saw specimens upon the Congo river. Some had shock heads of buttered hair, wondrous unsavoury, and fit only for door-mats; others wore the thatch twisted into a hundred little corkscrews; their eyes were wild and staring, their voices loud and barking, and all their gestures denoted the ‘noble savage’ who had run out of his woods for the first time. They were, however, in high spirits. Before last year (1857) no Arab had visited their country: trading parties from Ukamba-ni sold ivory to the Wanyika for four times round the tusk in beads, and these middlemen, after fleecing those more savage than themselves, retailed the goods at high profits to the citizens. The Wakamba of the coast are, of course, anxious to promote intercourse between Mombasah and their kinsmen of the interior, and thus the road, first opened at the imminent risk of life, by the enterprising Dr Krapf, has become a temporary highway into the interior of Eastern Intertropical Africa—a region abounding in varied interest, and still awaiting European exploration. But let not geographers indulge in golden visions of the future! Some day the Arabs of Mombasah will seize and sell a caravan, or the fierce Wamasai or the Gallas will prevail against the traders. Briefly, no spirit of prophecy is needed to foresee that the Kikuyu line shall share the fate of many others.
A report prevalent in Mombasah—even a Msawahili sometimes speaks the truth—that the Mission House had been attacked by the savages, and the march of an armed party from the town, showing a belief in their own words, hurried us up to Kisulodi-ni, on Sunday, January 18. The rumour proved to be false, but it was a shadow forethrown by coming events: as M. Rebmann showed certain velléités for martyrdom, I insisted that his wife, an English woman, should be sent down to Mombasah, and we had the satisfaction to see the boxes packed. This second visit added something to our knowledge of the country. The Ghaut, or Coast Range, which has no general but many partial names, as Rabai, Shimba, and others, varies in height from 700 to 1200 feet, and fringes the shore from Melinde to the Panga-ni river. Distant but a few miles from a sea-board of shelly coralline, it shows, like Madagascar, no trace of the limestone formation, which forms the maritime region of Somaliland. These hills are composed of sandstones, fine and coarse, red-yellow and dark brown, with oxide of iron; the soil, as usual in Western Intertropical Africa, is a ‘terrier rouge,’ as Senegal was called by the French of the 17th century, a red ochreous clay, and bits of quartz lie scattered over the surface. Beyond it are detached hills of gneiss and grey and rufous granite: the latter is so micareous that the Baloch firmly believe it to contain gold.
Inland of Mombasah the Rabai Range is a mere ridge, with a gentler counter-slope landwards, declining 150 to 200 feet, not, as such maritime formations usually are, the rampart of an inland plateau. This unusual disposition probably gave rise to the novel idea—instruments were not used—that the interior falls to, and even below, sea-level, thus forming a depression, bounded north and south by rapid rivers, the Adi and the Panga-ni. The chine is broken by deep ravines, which during the rains pour heavy torrents into the sea-arms at their base: the people might make tanks and reservoirs by draining the smaller clefts, but they prefer thirst and famine to sweating their brows. Though exposed to the blighting salt breeze, the land wants nothing but water, and, this given, no man need ‘tread upon his neighbour’s toes.’ Arecas and cocoas, bushy mangoes and small custard-apples, the guava and the castor plant, the feathery manioc, and the broad-leaved papaw and plantain flourish upon its flanks. In the patches of black forest spared by the wild woodman, the copal, they say, and the Mvule, a majestic timber-tree whose huge trunk serves for planking and doors at Zanzibar, still linger. I saw none of the cinnamon plants mentioned by Dr Krapf. A little gum-animi or copal is here dug; but the inveterate indolence of the natives, their rude equality, in which, as amongst Bushmen, no one commands, and their inordinate love for Tembo, or palm-wine, are effectual obstacles to its exploitation. When we visited these hills drought and its consequence, famine, had compelled the people to sell their children: contented with this exertion, they did no more.
We left Kisulodi-ni on January 22, 1857. Some nights afterwards fires were observed upon the neighbouring hills, and the Wanyika scouts returned with a report that the Wamasai were in rapid advance. The wise few fled at once to the Kaya, or hidden barricaded stronghold, which these people prepare for extreme danger. The foolish many said, ‘To-morrow we will drive our flocks and herds to safety.’ But ere that morning dawned upon the world, a dense mass of wild spearmen, numbering some 800 braves, sweeping like a whirlwind, with shout and yell and clashing arms, passed the Mission House, which they either did not see or which they feared to enter; dashed upon the scattered village in the vale below, and strewed the ground with the corpses of wretched fugitives. Thence driving their loot they rushed down to the shore, and met a body of 148 matchlock-men, Arabs and Baloch, Wasawahili and slaves, posted to oppose progress. The bandits fled at the first volley. The soldiers, like true Orientals, at once dispersed to secure the plundered cattle, when the Wamasai rallying, fell upon them, and drove them away in ignominious flight, after losing 25 men, to the refuge of their walls. The victors presently retired to the hill-range, amused themselves with exterminating as many Wanyika as they could catch, and, gorged with blood and beef, returned triumphant to their homes. The old Jemadar Tangai took from the unfortunate Wanyika all their remaining cows; they also retired into the interior, and the price of provisions at Mombasah was at once doubled.
The wild people of Eastern Africa are divided by their mode of life into three orders. Most primitive and savage are the fierce pastoral nomades, Wamasai and Gallas, Somal, and certain of the ‘Kafir’ sub-tribes: living upon the produce of their herds and by the chase and foray, they are the constant terror of their neighbours. Above them rank the semi-pastoral, as the Wakamba, who, though without building fixed abodes, make their women cultivate the ground: these clans indulge in occasional or periodical raids and feuds. The first step towards civilization, agriculture, has been definitively taken by the Wanyika, the Wasumbara, the Wanyamwezi, and other tribes living between the coast and the inland lakes: this third order is usually peaceful with travellers, but thievish and fond of intestine broils.
But a few years ago the Wakwafi,[[17]] who in their raids slew women and children, were the terror of this part of the coast: now they have been almost exterminated by their Southern and S. Western neighbours, the Wamasai, a tribe of congeners, formerly friends, and speaking the same dialect. The habitat of this grim race is the grassy and temperate region from N. Westward and to S. Westward of Chaga: nomades, but without horses, they roam over the country, where their flocks and herds find the best forage; they build no huts, but dwell under skins, pitching rude camps where water and green meat are plentiful. They are described as a fine, tall, dark race resembling the Somal, with a fearful appearance caused by their nodding plumes, their hide pavoises or shields, longer than those of the ‘Kafirs,’ and their spears with heads broad as shovels, made of excellent charcoal-smelted metal. According to native travellers, they are not inhospitable, but their rough and abrupt manners terrify the Wasawahili: they will snatch a cloth from the trader’s body, and test his courage with bended bow and arrow pile touching his ribs. Life is valueless among them; arms are preferred to clothes, and they fear only the gun because it pierces their shields. They are frequented when in peaceful mood by traders from Mombasah, Wasin, Mtanga, and Panga-ni: this year, however, even those who went up from the Southern ports feared to pass the frontier. Such visits, however, are always dangerous. ‘If a number of persons are killed by a certain tribe, and there happen to be parties belong to that tribe staying amongst the race which has suffered loss, the visitors are immediately put to death,’ says Mr Wakefield. Cattle is the main end and aim of their forays, all herds being theirs by the gift of the Rain-god and by right of strength; in fact, no other nation should dare to claim possession of a cow. They do not attack by night, like other Africans: they disdain the name of robbers, and they delay near the plundered places, dancing, singing, and gorging beef to offer the enemy his revenge. Until this year they have shunned meeting Moslems and musketeers in the field: having won the day, they will, it is feared, repeat the experiment.
CHAPTER IV.
THE PEOPLE OF MOMBASAH. THE WANYIKA TRIBE.
Statio benefida carinis.—Virgil.
In 1844 Dr Krapf allowed the population of Mombasah town, without its dependencies, to be 8000 to 10,000. In 1846 M. Guillain reduced it to 2500 or 3000 souls, not including a garrison of 250 men, but including 40 families of Arabs (220 to 230 souls), and 50 Banyans and Hindostani Moslems. In 1857 I was assured that it contained 8000 to 9000 souls, thus distributed: Arabs, about 350; 300 Baloch and other mercenaries, 50 Bhattias, 25 to 30 Indian Moslems, the rest being Wasawahili and the slave races. The Wasawahili are distributed into two great groups. Older and consequently nobler, though less numerous, are the Wamwita; they derive their origin from a Shirazi Shaykh whose name is locally forgotten. The other and far larger division is the Wakilindi-ni, who trace their name from Kilindi, whence they emigrated to Shungaya alias Shiraz, and eventually to Mombasah. Originally they occupied on the western shore of the island a separate settlement, which they called after their oldest homes; they built a tower of stone, surrounded it with a wall, provided it with wells, and thus rendered themselves independent of their patrons. Some remnants of eight other tribes, coast Arabs who had suffered from the invader, also colonized Mwita. Under the rule of the Portuguese an amalgamation took place, and the several races all became Wasawahili. The city is now governed by three Shaykhs—of the Arabs, of the Wamwita, and the Wakilindi-ni: they receive a small salary, and they communicate direct with Zanzibar, visiting the Island once a year. Justice is administered by three Kazis similarly chosen: the troops are under a Jemadar, and a Banyan sent by the farmer-general from head-quarters, manages the Custom House.
The Kisawahili spoken at Mombasah is purer than that of Zanzibar, the result of being nearer the fountain-head. Here the people can hardly articulate an initial ‘A:’ they must say, for instance Bdúlá, or as often Mdúlá, not Abdullah, and they supply a terminal vowel, as Shkúlá for School; the Hindostan man who shirks our double initial consonants would change it to ishkúl. The explosive sound of the B by forcibly closing the lips is given to the M, which becomes a perfect consonant having sound and continuance: before another consonant it creates in strangers’ ears the suspicion of being preceded by the original vowel-sound, and when following a vowel it is articulated as a final not as an initial consonant—M’áná-mke (a woman), for example, would be pronounced M’ánám-ke. The initial N also becomes before a consonant hard and explosive, and it sounds to the tyro as if a rapidly pronounced ‘I’ or ‘E’ were prefixed: Europeans, for instance, write Njia, ‘Endia.’ At Mombasah I heard the Arab ‘Hamzeh,’ or compression and contraction of the larynx, when a hiatus of two similar vowels occurs, as in Mcho’o (rain) and Tá’á (a lamp): in the dialects less pure the gap would be filled up by inserting the liquid R or L, as Mfuru for Mfu’u (the name of a tree). The Arabs and the more civilized tribes, I have remarked, prefer the R to the L, and say Rufu for Lufu, the Upper Pangani river, and so forth. The T also assumes the cerebral sound of the Sanskrit and that which renders the English dentals so hard to foreigners.