Interior of Samoan Home, Built of Breadfruit Tree, Secured by Coir; No Nails Used.Samoa.
Interior of Samoan Home, Built of Breadfruit Tree, Secured by Coir; No Nails Used.Samoa.
The huts or homes of the Samoans, circular in form, are the best built of those of any native races. From a heavy center upright beam, 12 to 16 feet in length, scantlings extend to a circular support, which rests on posts three feet high. The roof, composed of cocoanut palm leaves, is secured to breadfruit wood scantlings. Palm-leaf curtains, the width of the space from post to post, are attached to the circular timber. During the day the shades are raised all round, allowing air to pass through, and at night they are lowered. As an additional means of cooling the home, a strip of pebbles, two feet wide, extends around the hut, mats covering the floor space each side of the circle of small stones. The bed is composed of half a dozen to a dozen cocoanut-leaf mats, four feet wide and six feet in length, and white cotton sheets, laid on the floor. In the morning the bedding is rolled together, placed on poles above, and taken down at bedtime. As chairs do not figure in the furnishing of a Samoan home, a leaf mat is used as a seat.
Though Samoans will not unload ships, they have no objection to washing clothes. They board vessels in the harbor and solicit laundry work, charging eight cents apiece. For a white suit of drill they charge only eight cents, a pair of socks or a collar costing the same.
On a sailing ship, and on a naval cutter plying between Pago-Pago and Apia (both seen here), also on a schooner at Dunedin, N. Z., were the only instances since leaving New York when the Stars and Stripes was observed flying from vessels.
Upolu Island, on which Apia is located, is second in area to Savaii, being 38 miles long and 12 wide. Samoa is one place in the Southern Pacific Ocean that Abel Tasman was not the first to set eyes on, this group being discovered by Captain Roggeville, in 1721.
We reached Apia on a Sydney Sunday (Eastern time), which was Saturday in Apia (Western time). Naturally, Sydney's Monday was Apia's Sunday, so we had two Saturdays andtwo Sundays that week. It is difficult for the layman to understand how twelve hours can make a day, as we appeared to lose one after crossing the line of the 180th meridian from east to west.
A weekly newspaper of 48 columns, 25 of these advertisements, is published in Apia. Only 200 Europeans live in the town, yet a newspaper of that size appears to flourish.
The American consul called at the ship one evening in tropical evening dress to have a chat with the American passengers—four in number. He asked the captain of the vessel, who was a Britisher, to blow his whistle three times on sailing out of the harbor, when he would acknowledge the salute by lowering the flag on the staff at the consulate. The captain kept his word, the following day, but the flag did not move. There is nothing strange about such forgetfulness, however, for the consulate is located in "The Land of Delicious Idleness."
We will now say "Tofa" to that splendid race and their pretty islands and make a start for Tonga, when the day "lost" will be reclaimed, as we recross the 180th meridian. The captain did not turn back the ship's clock here, but kept the Sydney time.
Passing between two prominent stone walls, we entered the harbor of Vavau, Tonga, another group of the South Sea Islands. This group appears on some maps as the Friendly Islands. Abel Tasman, who discovered so many countries before any one else, but allowed others to claim what he first saw, discovered the Tongan group in 1643. Over a hundred years later Captain James Cook, the explorer, made three visits to these islands, before and after he had planted the British flag on Australia and New Zealand. The Tongans have always had self-government, but the group is under the protection of the British. The native ruling power is King George Tubou II. Parliament consists of 32 elected representatives and an equal number of hereditary chiefs, all of native birth. The islands also boast a Prime Minister, a Chancellor of the Exchequer, a Chief Justice and other high officials.
King George Tubou II., at the opening of Parliament, wears a European court suit, a gold and jeweled crown, and a long mantle of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine, which is supported by two boys attired in tights, trunks, and feathered caps, while the king's soldiers line the highway along which the royal procession marches. To maintain that standard of royalty the natives are taxed $10 each a year, with maturity age at 16. The native head tax in Fiji is $5, and in Samoa $3, so the Tongan pays highly for the royal atmosphere he breathes.
The harbor of Vavau is the prettiest we have seen, but itwould not be advisable to make that statement in Sydney, Australia. While the striking panorama offered by Sydney's is absent here, Nature's lavish tropical adornment offsets that feature, wrought mainly by the hand of man, in the former. For seven miles, from the imposing Heads to the small town at the other end, the shores are studded with cocoanut palms, and the bay is beautifully bedecked with small and pretty islands, thickly verdured with a moistened growth, the fronds of the cocoanut palm and leaves of the banana bush growing on these dipping their points into the still, mirror-like blue water from every side. Smaller vegetation grows upward for a time, but later yields to the seductiveness of the clear, calm, coral-reflected water, when the bright, tender tips of these become fondled, as it were, by the gentle ripples, adding more attractiveness to this unusual scene of natural beauty. These islands would remind one of a flower-pot overgrown with drooping ferns. The vessel is pointed straight, then veers, when the foliage of one of these green barriers seems almost to brush the water-line of the ship. After a turn in another direction, the course is straight again for a short distance. Another of these pretty islands is seen just ahead, when the vessel slants and seem to barely miss caressing the foliage drooping into the water. All the while the palm-studded shore maintains its most pronounced beauty. Traveling through Vavau harbor is like sailing through an enchanted botanical garden.
"Malolelei," the word a visitor first hears from a Tongan, is "Good day" in the native language. One soon asks another who knows how to pronounce the word to teach him the vernacular, for the salute is supposed to be returned. Every one says "Malolelei."
The Tongan is very friendly to the whites, which explains how the name "Friendly Islands" came to be applied to the Tongan group. Mariners, in early days, when shipwrecked on the shores of these islands, were killed, cut up, and made stew of. But nowadays they would be fed, housed and receive any and every attention that would make their misfortune easier to bear. Were a white man known to be in need, every nativewould feel it his duty to help relieve him. Each would bring with him food, and if the hungry man could eat all that was brought to him he might live to be as old as Methuselah without worrying about money to pay his board bill.
"The Sun is dead!" was the term used by the natives to describe a total eclipse of the sun that took place while traveling through the South Sea section of the journey. The words were spoken in a solemn tone, and it was amusing to note the difference in their voices and faces when, the eclipse being over, they shouted, "The Sun is alive again!"
Little of interest is to be seen at Vavau, as only 60 white persons live here, most of them traders. Native meat is scarce, as practically no grain or potatoes grow in tropical countries, so European food staples have to be imported to the islands of the South Seas. As an offset for these importations, bananas, copra and pineapples are exported to either Auckland or Sydney.
"Good-by to chops and juicy steaks—canned meat for you henceforth"—were the parting words an Australian received who left the ship at a Tongan port. He had decided to make his home in Tonga, and no person would feel the loss of a mutton chop more keenly than an Australian.
We again sail through Vavau's botanical harbor, and next stop at Haapai, a port on another island of the group. Traveling from South Sea ports, the deck of a ship is crowded with natives, whose bodies shine with cocoanut oil, and all have cocoanut palm leaf baskets and banana-leaf plates. Sometimes a piece of purple-colored taro is bitten off and eaten, or a dozen cocoanuts are tilted and natives drink the liquid; then a whole orange may be forced inside the mouth, when a series of prying with the fingers takes place, causing contortions of the face, in the effort to squeeze out the juice, when the caved-in orange will be withdrawn and thrown away. All are bareheaded, wearing vari-colored kilts and waists, and everybody happy and seemingly well fed. A feature of the Tongan's "luggage" is the great quantity of food each brings with him. They have good faces, but are not up to the general appearance of the Samoan.
The shore on which the little town of Haapai is built is a picture. Lined with an unbroken row of cocoanut palms, as far as one could see over the tops of these there was no other growth. Coral reefs are very pretty here, and tiny bright blue fish dart like butterflies from caves in the reefs and in turquoise-blue pools. At some places the bottom of the sea is like a garden, as growing therefrom is peculiar colored seaweed, striped and spotted shells being numerous.
Tonga homes cannot compare with those of Samoa. They are hayrick shaped, seldom have a window, and two doors generally lead to the inside. The floors are covered with cocoanut-leaf mats, and the beds are of mats of the same material. A lantern is used to light their huts at night; the oil burned in these comes from the United States. A big circular wooden bowl, with legs cut from the heart of a large tree, used to mix the native drink in, is another important utensil in the Tongan home; the bottom is of a slaty-blue color. Cocoanut-shell cups figure prominently in native utensils. Some Tongans, however, live in frame houses, roofed with iron.
A native drink, known as kava, is universally used throughout the islands of the South Pacific Ocean. The drink is made from the root of a shrub, which is sometimes pounded into small pieces with stones, but of late years graters have been used; and coffee-grinders serve the purpose still better. Gratings from the root are placed in the wooden bowl, and water is poured on these. The coarser grounds are strained from the kava by grass or fibers from the bark of certain shrubs or trees. A European would have to acquire a liking for this native drink, as at first it tastes like a mixture of soapsuds and ginger. When drunk to excess it does not affect the head, but the legs become paralyzed for a few hours; blindness also follows its abuse. Kava is served in cocoanut cups.
Tongans number but 21,000, and all belong to some religious denomination. Church collections are taken only once a year. The "basket" is never passed for contributions. A wooden bowl or a galvanized kettle is placed under the pulpit, and each goes forward and puts his contribution in the "box." A majority,18,000 out of the 21,000, are identified with the Wesleyan Church, and this number contributes the sum of $25,000 a year. They build their own churches and give their services free. Few nails are used in these buildings, the timbers being secured by coir, or cinnet. If the wood be dark, the brown fibers of the cocoanut are dyed the color of the wood that is to be lashed. The cinnet lashing seen in the church buildings is splendidly done, and often resembles carving. The Tongans hold their churches in much reverence. At some frame houses in the towns is seen a round galvanized tank to hold rain water running from the roof. However, they consider it sacrilege to conserve the water running from the roof of a church.
A traveling acquaintance who had lived in Tonga for years was asked if white people locked their doors at night. "Yes," he replied, "the kitchen door—to keep the cats out."
Poverty is unknown here, as are jails. Each Tongan has 8¼ acres of land, and the copra from that area not only furnishes sufficient money to buy what is needed but allows a small surplus besides.
Not one murder has taken place in the group in over 20 years, and then a white man was mixed up in it. This will seem more remarkable when it is remembered that almost every native carries a big knife, with which to shuck cocoanuts and cut the stems of bananas. But two races live in Tonga—300 whites and the balance Tongans.
One hundred islands compose this group, Tongatabu, on which the capital is built, being the largest and most important. That island is 20 miles long and 12 miles wide.
Nukualofa, the capital, our next stop, is 1,100 miles from Auckland, New Zealand. Europeans there do not exceed 75 persons, but the native population is comparatively large. The King's palace and the Chapel Royal are the most conspicuous buildings in the town. A royal guard, consisting of half a dozen brown-skinned soldiers, dressed in scarlet coats, see that their king nor his property are molested. The king is a man of striking appearance, six feet four inches in height, very stout,and in the forties. The line of succession in Tonga passes through the mother, not the father. King George Tubou II.'s salary is $10,000 a year. The Tonga group is the only independent kingdom now left in the Pacific.
Grass grows everywhere in Nukualofa, including the streets. A buggy, drawn by a small, woolly horse, may pass half a dozen times a day along the main streets, or a native on horseback, with a flaring-colored shirt, may create a little temporary excitement occasionally dashing along a thoroughfare as fast as the horse's legs can carry him. Children do not appear to quarrel, roosters seemed to be imbued with the spirit of peace, and the weather is generally too hot for dogs to have a fall out; so one going to Nukualofa with distracted nerves is apt to feel stronger after a stay in the Tongan capital. To borrow from Samoa, it is another "land of delicious idleness."
It is in places of this character where one comes across British ne'er-do-wells, or "remittance men," as they are termed. These are sent from Great Britain by wealthy parents to isolated places like Tonga and Fiji, and a certain sum of money is sent them each month—enough to pay their board and a little over for spending money. They are too far away to disgrace the family, and it is cheaper to pay their expenses in far-off countries than it would be to support them at home. They are virtually prisoners in these out-of-the-way places, for they soon get in debt, and no one owing money can leave the islands. These men generally marry a native woman, drink all the whisky and soda they can get, and the wife's income from her cocoanut farm provides for the home.
Consumption is making inroads among this splendid race of natives. Some discard their native clothes and wear European apparel; they then live in a house instead of a hut, which is unnatural; but, worst of all, they cease to rub themselves with cocoanut oil, and in other ways neglect the customs of their ancestors. The native mode of living is much the better for the native. European customs do not seem to agree with colored races. It is the same with all native races—when theycome in contact with the white man they generally go down hill.
Some of the prettiest trees in the world are to be seen in Nukualofa. They do not grow high, but their spread is so wide and the outlines of the limbs so regular that one never forgets them.
Flying foxes—large bats, or vampires—are sacred animals to the Tongan. Some distance from Nukualofa is a grove of large trees, and in the daytime thousands of the bats will be hanging from the limbs by their claws, heads down. At sunset they all wake up and fly over the island and make raids on fruit plantations. At sunrise they will return to the same grove and hang downward all day. These bats are as large as cats, with furry bodies, and the native believes something terrible would happen were he to kill one.
Tongans are more advanced, intellectually, than any of the South Sea races, not excepting the Maori, who is of the same race. A college in Nukualofa is well attended by natives.
Kaikai is the name of food in the South Sea Islands, as it is also in New Zealand.
Tongan women do not work like those of other South Sea Islands races. The men say it makes women ugly to work all day in the sun, and they prefer their wives to be good-looking and good-natured. Men even do the larger share of the housework.
White drill clothes are worn by all Europeans in Tonga, and every man has a tropical evening dress suit. The suit shows a wide spread of white shirt, generally starched, and high collar. Vests and trousers are white. The coat is a jacket, however, that stops a trifle below the waist line. At the back the jacket comes to a point. It is like a ship steward's jacket.
"Teddy Bears" are as universal as American oil and American sewing-machines. In any part of the world one may observe European children with "Teddies" in their hands.
Europeans living in the tropics become so enervated thatsuch a thing as failing to keep an appointment is thought nothing of. The blood becomes thin, and the easy life they live practically unfits them for work they would be called on to do in a cooler climate. Then, again, they are looked up to in the sparsely settled white communities, and when they return to the Northland and practically become nonentities they painfully miss the pampering they received from natives. Most of these would prefer to live a sickly life in the tropics to a healthful one, contingent on hard work, in their native land. It is hard to rise above the pressure of environment.
We are about to start on Leg Five, but before doing so we wish to explain our divergence of travel in Australasia. On reaching Melbourne from Perth a day's time was all that was spent in the city at that time. We went to Tasmania, New Zealand, and then to Sydney. From New South Wales we started on the South Sea Islands trip. From Nukualofa we journeyed to Auckland, our second time in that city. Recrossing the Tasman Sea to Sydney, we journeyed to Melbourne by rail, the second time also we were in that city. Stopping there but a few hours, a start was made for Adelaide; then from Adelaide to Ballarat, and back to Melbourne, where some time was spent, from which port we sailed on our return trip to South Africa, and from which place we start Leg Five.
For the first time in my travels I had to be content with third-class steamship accommodation. I knew the South Sea Islands trip would shrivel my pocketbook, and would not have been disappointed had I not enough money to buy even a third-class ticket to South Africa. We took a chance on the South Sea Islands trip—and won. "Steerage," in big red type, was stamped on the steamship ticket that carried me from Melbourne to South Africa, but all passengers were on an equality, as there was but one grade of accommodation—third.
Supper was the first meal on board, but no tea or coffee was served. The absence of these "luxuries" was explained later, passengers being informed that tea or coffee was provided only once daily—at breakfast time. At the first morning meal a hubbub took place among mothers with babes. Something was wrong with the milk, and when that matter had also been explained we learned that sea water—salt water—had been used, instead of fresh water, to dilute the condensed milk.
The cabins contained from two to ten berths, and as almost every one prefers privacy a few dollars more were paid for a two-berth cabin, as little sleep could be anticipated were interests pooled with nine snoring mates. The two-berth cabin had no margin to boast of, as, in order for one to get a handkerchief from his hip pocket, it was necessary to vacate it and seek arm-turning space in the hallway. I had a good cabin mate, and we soon came to an understanding as to what time each of us would visit our quarters. Two could sleep in the cabin, but there was not room enough for two to turn in it. The pillow—we would not be so rash as to say the slip covered a chunk of cement; it may have been tan bark. The door had no lock, neither was there a button to ring up the steward.
The ship stopped at Hobart, took on 30,000 cases of apples,and headed for Albany, West Australia. The tea merchants in the Tasmania capital did a good business for the time being, as passengers who, before starting, knew nothing of the rules of the ship concerning tea and coffee allowances laid in here a good supply, together with preserves, crackers, Chinese napkins and other necessities the ship did not furnish.
Ninety dollars for eight weeks' travel is surely giving passengers a cheap journey. The vessel sailed from Sydney the first week in June, reaching her destination, London, England, about the first of August, after a voyage of 14,000 miles. Three hundred persons had booked passage on the liner, and of that number there was not one foreign-speaking passenger aboard. This will seem strange when it is borne in mind that the most cosmopolitan place in the world is a passenger steamship. Seven preachers were included, which, sea tradition says, generally augurs for bad weather; but, as there are exceptions to almost every rule, we had smooth sailing after clearing the Bight and Cape Leeuwin. The "animal" classification of the cargo included birds—canaries, magpies, parrots and cockatoos; also a joey, as a young kangaroo is called. This animal was bought at Albany by an American, the tariff on the joey to London being $10. The freight charge for a canary was 60 cents, and rates for larger birds were from 75 cents to $1.25.
Fruit—generally confined to apples or oranges—was served at supper. The apples often seemed nearly as hard as billiard balls and as tasteless as frozen turnips. A prosperous Irishman, of a ripe age, who had gone to Australia in early days, when six months' time was required to make the voyage, was, with his aged wife, returning to the Emerald Isle. One evening, when we had oranges for supper, after he had bitten into one, the Celt was observed going through a series of facial contortions, with shoulder movements—something after the fashion of an agitated Frenchman. "Are the oranges sweet to-night, Mr. O'Gorman?" he was asked. "Sweet?" whipped back the old Roman, as water dripped from the tear-ducts of his eyes and fire snapped from the corners—"Sweet? They're so sharup they'd cut your t'roat!"
Cake was served Sunday afternoons, and milk, sugar and hot water were at the pleasure of passengers, but they had to furnish their own tea or coffee. The tea and teapot, for instance, would be given to the table steward, and he would make the tea and serve it at mealtime. A piano added greatly to the entertainment of the passengers, as concerts were held twice a week. Besides, various athletic sports were indulged in.
The preachers took turns officiating at Sunday services. As there were seven of them—the voyage embracing as many Sabbaths—each one had an opportunity to keep in practice. One of their number, a Scotch Presbyterian, was on his way from Australia to his native country for a "holiday." Except at mealtime, he could generally be found sitting in a corner of the smoking saloon burning up black cigars, as he was a confirmed smoker; he was also a devotee of, and an expert at, the game of checkers, or draughts, as that amusement is termed in British territory. While no one on the ship had a chance to beat him, during the course of a game he would buoy, from time to time, the hope entertained by a presumptuous rival of lowering the parson's colors with clerical flattery—pretending that his opponent had nearly caught him napping on certain moves and that the skill of the player was worthy any foeman's steel. An Irish Presbyterian also was among the clergymen, and he sometimes sat at a table for hours with another passenger, in tomb-like stillness—playing a game of chess. Chess players, as a rule, have a poor opinion of checkers—calling it a child's game. The Irish dominie was asked if much skill was required to play checkers. "No," was the reply. "Any one can learn that game in a week." A short time later, when the Scotch preacher was engaged at checkers, and won, as usual, he congratulated his opponent on the splendid game he had played. "There's a great deal of superfluous talk about checkers—one would think that only persons of superior intellect could play that game," remarked a passenger to the Scotchman. A sneer came over the preacher's face. "I've been playing draughts for 30 years and don't know the game yet," he tartly answered. "Why," returned the passenger, "a man on this ship saidthere was nothing to it—that any one could learn the game in a week." "Who's the man that said he could learn the game of draughts in a week!" he exclaimed, in eloquent tones. "Who's the man! Point him out!" He lost control of a strong cigar, and every one laughed but the padre.
Durban was reached 26 days after leaving Melbourne, and here I found myself left with only $2 of the $750 with which I started for the Antipodes. (Reference to the last paragraph of Leg Two and the Itinerary printed at the end of the book will explain conditions.)
On a German ship we took final leave of Durban and South Africa, the route being along what is known as the East Coast of Africa and across the western end of the Indian Ocean, to Bombay, India. Every berth was engaged. New scenes ahead bespoke an interesting voyage. America was well represented among the passengers, as there were eight—five missionaries, two theatrical men and a printer.
A day's sail along the flat coast of Zululand and Tongaland and southern Portuguese-East Africa found us in Lourenzo Marques, the capital of Portuguese-East Africa. Seldom is the name Lourenzo Marques heard in this part of the world. "Delagoa Bay" is used 99 times out of 100 when speaking of that East Coast capital. Mention was made in the few Lisbon notes of the white and gray paving used in that city, and the same kind of pavement in Lourenzo Marques brings one's mind back to the Portuguese capital, particularly "Rolling Motion Square." The white population of Portuguese-East Africa is small considering the large territory embraced in that colony, Europeans numbering only 3,000. Public buildings do not make much of a showing, a good harbor and docks being the city's chief assets. Street car and electric light systems, a seaside resort and high prices are some of the characteristics of Lourenzo Marques. Natives are very numerous, and African fever—a notorious feature of this place—is so prevalent that all the white residents have a veiny, sickly appearance.
Fever trees, so called from their sallow appearance, grow notfar from here. The leaves droop, are small, thin and lifeless, while the bark on the stunted trunks and limbs is scaly.
Lourenzo Marques, located on Delagoa Bay, is the nearest port for the Transvaal, through which most of the machinery and supplies for the great mines passed until the consolidation of the South African provinces. It was, in short, the chief Boer port of South Africa. Were the deaths that occurred while building the railroad from here to Pretoria made public it would make sad reading. During the stretch of 400 miles separating Johannesburg and Lourenzo Marques some of the territory traversed is through the worst fever zones in the world—even the trees contracting "fever."
Cruising along to the next port, Inhambane—also Portuguese territory—where the stately cocoanut palm raises its bushy head to an admiring distance from the earth, we again reach the tropics. Four of the missionaries disembarked—a bishop and his wife, and one other couple, who were located at a mission station a short distance from this port.
Three hundred whites live in this treacherous place and 30 per cent. die each year. The permanent missionary and his wife had both been fever victims, and if they fail soon to get out of the Inhambane district they will never come out alive. The husband is a powerfully built man, and his wife's skin as fair as a lily. She would be called pretty. They both had a good education, and both were hard workers. The missionary's predecessor had become "salted," but the bodies of three wives were resting under African soil. Black-water fever is nearly always certain death. Until a few years ago death was as certain after having contracted that form of fever as to one who stepped in front of a locomotive traveling at a speed of a mile a minute. All liquids drunk by a victim turn black.
A native was induced to scale a cocoanut tree and knock nuts off. Eight tumbled down, and we were charged two cents each for them. The cocoanut tree has no season—it blossoms and bears the year round.
Native women loaded and unloaded the ship, and lookedstronger than the men. Sugar, copra and peanuts were put on at that port.
The anchor chain winds round the drum, and off we start on another run, bringing us to Beira, also in Portuguese territory, the port for Rhodesia. The best route to reach Salisbury or Bulawayo is from Beira. To the former place it is some 300 miles, and to Bulawayo nearly 700 miles.
Venice, Italy, is unique in canals and in the absence of vehicular traffic; and Beira may claim some resemblance to the Italian city, notably in the absence of carriages, automobiles, wagons, motorcycles and street cars. Beira is built on a sandbar, and the means of travel in that place is by vehicles called "trolleys," four-wheeled conveyances. The frame is of iron, and a foot-rest, seat, back and hood are built on this. It is a small carriage on low wheels. The track on which the trolley runs is two feet wide, and the rails are one-inch thick. Ties or sleepers support these. The "power" to move the "trolley" is two natives, who push the vehicle, and push it on the run. These natives are dressed in white cotton shirts, with short sleeves, and with a lava-lava or kilt made of calico, with big spots, which reaches to the knees. Their hat is a red fez with tassels, which suggests we have reached the influence of the Arab. The "trolley" pusher never runs between the rails—always on the one-inch rail. One would think there are grooves in his feet to fit in these. The streets are intersected by "trolley" tracks, switches being made at places, where "trolleys" branch to certain streets. On the main street are three tracks, and turntables have been built here and there on which to turn the cars around when ready for the return trip. They are comfortable to ride in, and most of them are privately owned.
With the exception of a good sea wall, there is little of the substantial about Beira—only a few frame buildings, and others of corrugated iron. Arab merchants are numerous, and where they have become established there is very little money for the white man, few modern customs being in evidence.
One of my cabin mates was a Trappist priest. Born in Ohio,he went to Africa in his early years, and had been teaching natives for a quarter of a century. He was a chaplain in the Boer War, and his intimate knowledge of that interesting country was so general as to break set rules for bedtime when listening to his experiences.
The ship's whistle blows and we are off again, traveling through what is known as the Mozambique Channel, that stretch of water separating Madagascar, a French possession, from Portuguese-East Africa. The latter country is 750 miles in length and 200 miles wide. The seashore all along is as free of ruggedness as the shores of a lake located in a level plain.
Negro melodies and popular airs were reeled off their musical instruments by the two Americans at intervals of a few nights between. We had a congenial lot of passengers, and every one was enjoying the voyage.
Three more stops were made in Portuguese-East Africa, but no enterprise was apparent. Few white people were to be seen, while Indians, Arabs and natives were as thick as flies. At Ibo, the last stop, the cargo was brought from shore to the ship in what are called dhows, with ragged sails, scaly hulks, chipped masts, frazzled ropes—the sort of vessels that have been used in Asia for 2,000 years. Rubber trees grow in that section and, together with copra, comprise the exports.
Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of German-East Africa, was, after leaving Ibo, the next place where the vessel put in. What a difference is observable in the make-up and general appearance of this German town to those in Portuguese-East Africa! Some very imposing stone and cement buildings, with others under construction; good streets, clean surroundings, and a sprinkling of white people, were a very welcome change from the poorly built and almost totally black-populated places we had left behind.
The railway station, freight cars and locomotives, good wharves and paved streets brought to mind old scenes. For nearly 800 miles the railroad pierces westward through a black-populated and wild-beast inhabited country to the shore of Lake Tanganyika, this body of water, 420 miles long and 10 to 60 miles wide, being the boundary of this German possession and the Belgian Congo. Rubber and coffee plantations have been laid out, particularly at the western end of the railroad line; and from the great native passenger traffic, and bringing of supplies to these and to races far beyond the western terminus, good returns are assured. The area of this German possession is 384,000 square miles.
Unlike Beira, motor cars and bicycles were in evidence in Dar-es-Salaam, but no horses were to be seen, as in Beira. In the South African notes mention was made of the miserable breed of horse in Durban, also of horses being unable to live in some parts of that country. So, on the East Coast of Africa, where horses cannot live, and the life of Europeans is measured by but a short number of years, there must be something radically wrong with the climate.
Numerous fresh earth mounds may be seen in graveyards inthe settlements along the East Coast. Fat men are scarce in these districts, all having a slender frame and veiny, bleached appearance, with drooping eyelids. Malarial and black-water fever are prevalent in Dar-es-Salaam. White clothes, white cloth or skin shoes, and white helmets are worn. This place has a European population of 1,000, most of them government employes. The native population is 25,000.
Natives build their own huts, which are of mud, covered with cocoanut leaves, and settlements are located some distance from town.
The sight of native women prisoners, with a band of iron around the neck and a chain fastened to the first band, then to the second, and so on, according to the number of prisoners, seemed pretty severe punishment—too barbarous even for blacks. This is what we saw in Dar-es-Salaam. Six or eight men and women are generally chained together. The steel collar or band, an inch and a half wide, opens and closes with a clasp, and the length of the chain from band to band is between two and three feet. Groups of women were seen carrying water on their heads in five-gallon oil-cans. The prisoners have to move at the same time, as the chain is connected with the iron band around each neck. The band and chain is a relic of slavery days, as we are at a noted slave-trading center.
This German capital is the prettiest town on the East Coast of Africa. It is smart in appearance, has an electric light plant and good drives. Cocoanut palms grow all around, and the fragrance from the frangi-pangi flower heavily perfumes the atmosphere and adds much to the attractiveness of that center. Germany acquired this possession in 1886.
"Should you wear your street dress ashore, instead of the short skirt, it may 'let the cat out of the bag,' and then we would have to pay the full fare," one of our lady passengers cautioned her daughter who wished to join other travelers making ready to leave the ship to take a look at the German colony capital. Mother and daughter embarked at Lourenzo Marques, having come from the Transvaal, their destinationbeing Bombay, India. The daughter, twenty, being slightly under medium size, did not look her age. When booking their passage she was represented as "fifteen," any one of that age or under being carried for half rate. Short skirts, extending to just below the knees, were worn as an age "decoy" to this point of the journey. Though Miss Agnes bravely nursed her sheepishness, evoked by wearing "kid clothes" as she termed the "disguise," aboard ship, she drew the line at appearing "in public" in them. The captain having been observed leaving the vessel in his launch, Agnes, learning of this, hurriedly donned a "woman's" dress, joined the sightseeing party ashore, and took the chance of being detected. Returning to the ship before the skipper, she quickly changed street clothes to the "kid" garb, breaking her suspense, none of the officers being any the wiser, and resumed the journey to Bombay, as she started from the Portuguese port—a combination of woman-juvenile-half-fare passenger.
Zanzibar, on Zanzibar Island, is located 40 miles from Dar-es-Salaam. All the way from Durban we had been getting breaths of Asia, but Zanzibar is like an Asia in Africa. With perhaps the exception of Cairo and Alexandria, Egypt, Zanzibar is the largest place on the African continent. Out of a mixed population, composed of Arabs, Mohammedans, Hindus, Singhalese, Goanese, Parsis and natives—negroes—only 500 are whites. Though the city was inhabited as early as the tenth century, their first sultan did not begin to reign until 1741.
Mohammedan women—on whose features no one but husband or family are permitted to set eyes—walking about with their faces covered in a cloth having eye-holes cut out; palanquins, enclosed boxes accommodating one person, are carried by two natives, one on each end of a pole, on which the box rests, these containing the wives of Arabs and Mohammedans; native women, ever ready to imitate the clothing of others, are seen entirely covered in black cloth, save for the eye-holes in their face coverings; these dark, mysterious, and weird creatures stalk about the alleyways of Zanzibar during the day and the night hours. The pale face of the Parsi woman, the Hinduwoman with ornaments in her nostrils, on her ears, arms, hands and toes, and the gewgaws worn by native women, are seen at every turn. The Parsi, with his cuff-like cap; the Singhalese with his long, oily hair and amber haircomb; the Hindu, in his big, cloth head-covering; the bewhiskered Arab, wearing a fez, and the black, woolly bare head of the native, form an unusual scene on entering the city of Zanzibar. The Waswahili are the natives, and the native language of the island, German-East Africa, and British-East Africa is the Kiswahili.
Zanzibar, comprising the island of Pemba, 40 miles to the north, is a British possession. The island of Zanzibar is 50 miles in length and 20 miles wide. These islands are presided over by a Sultan, Seyid Khalifa bin Harub, but his ruling has to be approved by a British governor-general. He is sultan in name only, but his salary is $60,000 a year. The national flag is of a plain red color. The Sultan received his education in England.
The streets of the city are so narrow in some instances that both sides can almost be touched by the hands extended. Houses are built of brick and cement, and one to three stories in height. A couple of goats are usually found tied in front of buildings, and often a donkey may be seen munching a whisk of grass while standing on the steps of a home. A stranger able to find his way about Zanzibar must have a pretty level head. On entering a street, one has no assurance that the street has an opening, for they often end in a solid building across—a "blind alley." Doors to the buildings are heavy enough for a jail, and the alleys, veiled women, black and suspicious-looking men, wearing sandals and strange head-coverings, bespeak Asia. Europeans live in another section.
A very good hospital is pointed out to the visitor, which indicates in that part of the world a very large graveyard, Zanzibar being regularly visited with smallpox, while malarial fever is prevalent and bubonic plague and leprosy common.
Up to 1897 Zanzibar was one of the most noted slave-trading centers in the world. Slaves shipped from that place numbered from 6,000 to 10,000 a year. The best building inthe city is the Sultan's palace, but this has recently been converted into an office building for Protectorate officials; the Sultan's harem building, located in a city park, is now used as a place of amusement; but, as Arabs own most of the land, and also the property in the city, Zanzibar will always remain as it is.
A distance of seven miles, from the city to Bu-bu-bu, comprises the railway system of Zanzibar. The fare is 32 cents first-class and 16 cents second-class, the run taking 45 minutes. Passing through a street where almost everything is sold—an Indian bazaar—one may reach out of the window of the railway coach and pull off wearing apparel, shoes, etc., that are displayed on rope lines outside of the buildings on the narrow street. Through such places the train seems to be walled in by blacks on both sides.
The rupee is in use in Zanzibar, along the coast places, and in the interior in that section of the African continent. The value of the rupee in American money is 32 cents, and the anna two cents. The anna piece is nickel, with a hole in the center, and almost every one carries these on a string. It is certainly odd to see a man pull from his pocket a string about a foot or eighteen inches in length and take from it one to half a dozen annas with bored-out centers.
America was the first country to establish a consulate in Zanzibar, in 1836. The natives then took a fancy to our bright-colored calico, which they wear to-day, though close competition for that trade has taken place through other nations importing a similar class of goods.
The sun is very hot here, and flowers are temporarily faded by 10 o'clock in the morning. Should a white person walk a few feet in the sun bare-headed he would be very apt to fall from sunstroke.
The date palm, a tree 20 to 30 feet high, with a bare trunk, as the cocoanut palm, but with smaller limbs and a more spreading top, grows here. It produces its fruit in bunches, similar to the banana plant. Some of the clusters of dates dependingfrom the top will half fill a barrel. A wide leaf grows from the stem, to which the dates grow, and in time, the leaf dies and then bends. It happens, though, that when it bends it covers and thus protects the large cluster of fruit. Zanzibar oranges are said to be the sweetest that grow.
One may hear a few taps on a drum at a corner of an alley in the native quarter any time—the signal that there will be a dance that evening.
Automobiles are seen about the city, and an electric light plant and a wireless station are among the limited public utilities.
Clove and cocoanut plantations are the principal industries of Zanzibar. The clove tree is of the myrtle family, and the older it grows the greater the yield. Practically all the cloves used in the world come from the islands of Pemba and Zanzibar. There are sent to the United States from these islands from 2,000,000 to 3,000,000 pounds of cloves each year. The output for a year is from 15,000,000 to 20,000,000 pounds. It requires 10 years' time from planting before the clove tree blossoms. The Island of Pemba produces 75 per cent. of a year's crop. A hurricane blew down the trees growing on Zanzibar island in 1872, while those on Pemba island were not disturbed. The Pemba trees are 100 years old, those of Zanzibar island only 50 years old. They are planted 24 feet apart each way, and 100 grow on an acre.
The clove of commerce is the bud of the clove tree, picked before the petals open. The clove we use would be the seed of the clove tree were the petals allowed to expand. The buds are picked by natives, whose carelessness often destroys bearing limbs. When picked, the buds are placed on matting, and remain exposed to the sun for three days, when they become dried. A clove tree buds for three months, so this is the clove-bud picking period. The tree grows to a height of 30 feet, is bushy, with small limbs, on all of which buds grow. The leaf of the clove tree resembles that of the English poplar. The buds are more numerous on the limbs at intervals of four and five years than during the years between. A tree produces fromfive to seven pounds a year, and the price of cloves range from 16 to 20 cents a pound. Growers have to pay a tax to the government of 25 per cent. of their yield.
When leaving Durban I provided myself with a draft for $900 on a bank in Bombay, India, and $50 in cash. From the passengers I heard so many interesting things about British East Africa that I decided to go inland from Mombasa, if I could raise the necessary money on the Bombay draft. Taking my passport for identification, I learned from a banker in Zanzibar that he could not advance money on the draft, but that by cancelling the Durban draft and issuing a new one on the same bank in Bombay he could provide me with any funds needed. I agreed to that. On receiving the new draft I learned that $15 had been taken for exchange.
Tanga, German East Africa, a sea junction for that part of Africa, was our next stop. Passengers going to Europe from Durban and other points along the East coast trans-ship to the European liners going through the Suez Canal and Port Said.
A railway from this place pushes westward over 200 miles to the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, which rises to a height of over 19,000 feet. Tanga is another place that puts one in mind of a snake charming a bird and then devouring it. Cocoanut palms grow everywhere, and the pretty trees, frangi-pangi and flowers are enough to lure any one there. Yet a walk to the graveyard, after observing the large number of unsodded mounds for a population of 500, would soon alter one's opinion. The native population is 12,000.
One of the passengers made up his mind not to shave during the voyage from Durban to London. The Indian barber is the most useful tradesman the world over. He carries his kit with him, and is always prowling about for work. He will shave a man standing up or lying down; in the rain or in the sun; in bed or on the roof of a house—any time, any way, or any place an Indian barber will do his work. We no sooner stepped on shore than the unshaven passenger was picked out as a possible "job," and was shadowed by the black knights of the razor until he returned to the ship.
Rubber plantations are numerous in this section of the colony, and copra is another of the exports.
The horse of the East Coast of Africa is really the negro. Everything is moved on two-wheeled trucks, pushed or pulled with ropes by natives. No cattle or oxen were seen, so it is fair to conclude that neither cattle nor horses can live along this section of the coast. Any one can form an idea of what a sickly country it must be for human beings where cattle and horses cannot exist. Fever runs down the natives, also, but not in the same proportion as the whites.
"The last time we were in Tanga," the ship's doctor remarked on sailing, "I suffered terribly from jumping toothache. Fortunate in being in a port where there was a dentist, I called at his office and had it pulled. Asking him his charge, the dentist replied, 'Seventy-five rupees' ($25)." When my eyes again settled in their sockets, having bulged at mention of such a fee for pulling a tooth, the doctor, in answer to a question if he did not consider the dentist's charge exorbitant, said he was under that impression at the time, but was not so sure of it now. "Only a handful of Europeans live here," he philosophically went on to explain why he changed his impression from a positive to an uncertain one, "and fever is bad. The dentist—the only one within hundreds of miles—as most persons who come to the tropics, aims at making enough money in a few years, before fever robs him of his health, to take things easy for a while afterward in a good climate. Life, with a thumping tooth and a pumpkin-like face, was misery to me; I could not pull my tooth, and antidotes failed to assuage the pain it caused. So, considering the fee from various angles, I would not feel quite justified in charging the dentist with unprofessional conduct." Notwithstanding the doctor's reconciliation to the dentist's charge, it would seem he "paid for it through the nose," to use a British term for "stung," the standard rate in Africa for placing a tooth in a plate, whether one or sixteen, being only $5 each.
Mombasa, British-East Africa, was not reached until 19 days after sailing from Durban, although we traveled but 2,000 miles. It was a very interesting trip, though, along the East Coast, as the ship stopped so often to unload and take on cargo, that passengers obtained a fair idea of that part of the world.
Back in the early '80's England and Germany resorted to every diplomatic device to acquire that great tract of country now known as German East Africa and British East Africa. The Sultan of Zanzibar exercised control of a strip of the coastline, ten miles deep, north of Portuguese East Africa to Italian Somaliland, which naturally blocked the development of the interior. The claims of the two great countries were finally settled by Germany getting the southern part of the domain and England the northern part. The Sultan of Zanzibar still claims sovereignty of the ten-mile shore strip of the Indian Ocean, but in reality it is gone from him. The authentic history of East Africa commences in 1498, when Vasco da Gama, the Portuguese explorer, anchored off Mombasa.
Mombasa, located on Mombasa Island, is the chief seaport on the East Coast north of Durban and Lourenzo Marques. It has had a checkered career, being held at various times by Persians, Arabs, Egyptians, Portuguese and British. To-day the blacks number 30,000 and the whites about 500. Like most tropical places, the surroundings are naturally attractive, but fever is always present, and bubonic plague or smallpox may break out at any moment.
Three years is the limit of residence here for a European. Some part of the human system is bound to give way if one does not leave before the three-year period expires. Two and a half years' residence and six months' vacation in Europe is theusual custom. The tropical climate seems to center its force on the muscles of the stomach, and this is one reason why every one wears flannel bands. Most of the business men are Asiatics. Natives take the place of horses here also, goods being moved on trucks pushed and pulled by black men. England's solid system of doing things is in evidence at every turn—notably in the good, clean streets, parks and docks.
Before the railroad was pushed to the eastern shore of Victoria Nyanza the daring Europeans of early days had to travel four months before the western terminus was reached. Nowadays two days' travel by rail will take one into the heart of Africa. The country then, as it is more or less to-day, was alive with ferocious beasts, and some of the native tribes were warlike. During the winter season there is no rain for a period of from four to six months. Only men of iron would tackle such a journey. The Arabs, however, had preceded the whites.
On the Uganda Railway we boarded a train for Nairobi. For some distance the road passed through a tropical growth, when we entered the Taru Desert. Small trees of dense and thorny spreading limbs grow on this land. The lower limbs are brashy and bare of bark, and the ones above are leafless and gnarled, although alive. The Taru Desert is a leafless jungle. No bird life was apparent save vultures, whose repulsive appearance seemed in keeping with the growth on which they rested. Fever trees were mentioned earlier in this Leg, and those growing here suggested the possibility of their exuding something noxious—if not odors leading to some form of fever, then, perhaps, to stomach trouble.
A lone native, and often groups, were seen, with only a clout about the loins, carrying a long pole with a spear fixed to the end, at the station or traversing a native path leading somewhere, as there were no signs of habitation near the railway. Erect, slender, bareheaded and barefooted, he looked every inch the savage warrior one reads about.
The track is meter gauge, three feet six inches, and the railway coaches, of two compartments, are small, each compartmentaccommodating six persons, 12 in all. The South African system—the best in the world—of providing free sleeping berths for passengers, has been adopted by the Uganda Railway Company. Four berths are provided in each compartment, but no bedding is furnished. Breakfast costs 32 cents, and luncheon and dinner 50 cents. Railway fare is only two cents a mile, and the speed 14 miles an hour.
"Dak bungalow" proved a new building term to us, and another was the "godown." The dak bungalow serves the purpose of a hotel and is located at stations. These were built by the railway company for the convenience of passengers living in isolated places who used a certain station when traveling. The bungalow, which may be used one night free of charge, is provided with spring beds, but no bedding. The godown is a freight shed—any building where goods or cargo are stored is called a godown. Both terms are Asiatic. It would be a risky undertaking to start through some parts of that country at night, as many sections are infested with wild beasts. The agents at the stations were Indians.
We were traveling over a section of country that had not been refreshed with rain for months. The soil being reddish, passengers' clothes resembled those worn by workers in a red brickyard. Conversations that had taken place between travelers during the voyage along the East Coast, of big game being seen within easy view of the railway in these parts, which swayed me from my original route at Zanzibar, were foremost in my mind at this point. Skeptical of feasting the eye on herds of zebra, gazelle, wildebeeste, even giraffe, and other game, my doubts were dispelled when a passenger remarked:
"This is Makindu, where nature's zoo starts." "Do you think the game will be close enough to see from the train?" "They're on the veld all the time—see the zebra to the right?" he replied. Turning quickly in that direction, there they were, a solid foreground of striped beasts, not more than half a mile off the railway. The marvelous sight of thousands of zebra within easy view extended to the horizon. "You'll always find zebras huddled closely together," he interestingly went on,"as they have an eternal fear of lions, who are partial to zebra flesh," he explained. "The hardest animal in Africa to tame is the zebra," he continued. "This animal can be ridden, and is sometimes attached to a light vehicle, but it cannot be trusted. The fear of lions has for ages been so firmly bred in the bone of this attractive beast that, no matter how kindly handled, its wildness is always evident.
"Giraffes are generally seen browsing in the brush," kept on my companion. "They're sometimes called camelopards, owing to being spotted like a leopard and having a long neck like a camel. See!" he exclaimed, pointing, "there's five of them and a calf." One could scarcely believe his own eyes. Sure enough, there stood five long-necked, brown and white spotted, stubby-horned, slant-backed giraffes and a calf, standing in brush lower than their bodies, 100 feet from the railway track. As the train was passing they turned around and ambled clumsily further into the brush.
"All that game you see to the right are hartebeeste and gazelles," my companion went on. "Keep watching to the left, though, as we may see more giraffes, for that stretch of brush will soon be passed, when there'll be no more chance to see that big game. He's a browser, you know, not a grazer. There are two more—a nice pair!" he added. Sure as you're born, there stood two noble giraffes. Like the group of five with a calf, they turned and hobbled further into the undergrowth. "We're about out of the brush now, so I don't think we'll see more of them," he said. What I had already seen amply offset the $15 exchange charged me at the Zanzibar bank.
Simba was the name of a station as we entered the game fields; the meaning of the word "simba" is lion in the native tongue. More than a score of persons were killed by the king of beasts at this place, it is said, while building the railroad.
"Those smaller animals you see together yonder are a pack of hyena," continued my traveling mate. "There are more zebra to the left. The animals further along are blue wildebeeste (gnu), larger than the South African breed. See theostrich?" (pointing). There they were, big black and white birds, with wings flopping, running over the plains, not a fence within hundreds of miles—as wild as wild could be.
"We may see a lion before we reach Nairobi; I've seen them on several occasions while traveling over this stretch of country," he added. A lion did not show himself, but, as my companion said, they are frequently seen prowling over the treeless plains from the railroad.
For over a hundred miles the traveler looks out upon great herds of game feeding on both sides of the railway track. Gazelles have become so tame that they sometimes keep grazing as the train passes by; and the hartebeeste, or kongonie, much larger than the gazelle, with a wedge-shaped head and an outline of body resembling the giraffe, is nearly as numerous as the clean-cut, nimble gazelle. The wildebeeste is seen feeding and swishing his tail as contentedly as a cow in a pasture. Ostriches and zebras are on their native heath. Tigers, and other game also, may be seen while traveling through this most interesting stretch of country.
These plains, like an American prairie, are free of timber; and as far as the eye can see, from 50 feet off the railway track—to the horizon, in fact,—from Makindu to Nairobi, over a hundred miles, the eye feasts on a sportsman's paradise.
We reached Nairobi 23 hours after leaving Mombasa, 327 miles separating the chief port and the capital. What a terrible mixture of blacks was congregated on the platform and about the railway station! They were as numerous and black as flies around a barrel of molasses on a hot day. We were certainly in Darkest Africa. The ricksha is the hack of Nairobi. One starts for his hotel, with a native in the shafts and another pushing, a jingle-jangle taking place all the while. The pullers, while less fantastic and grotesque than their Zulu brothers in Durban, still have distinctiveness, namely, in wearing small bells about ankles and arms; the tinkle from these is constantly heard about the streets. For some distance from the station one is drawn along a level road, bordered with eucalyptus trees, to the business center. Wood and iron buildings—corrugatediron—are mostly used in both dwelling houses and business places. There is no paving on the streets, no sidewalks, nothing inviting, about the capital of the British-East Africa Protectorate; but there is no grass growing on the streets, every one seemingly infused with a "boom" spirit. One finds, however, in this place a good, stone-built post office, a stone-built Treasury building, and structures of the same material under course of construction.
Nairobi was the blackest town visited. Though considerable building was being done, a white man—such as carpenter, mason, plasterer or bricklayer—was not seen engaged at that class of work, all labor being done by Indians; most of the contractors also were Indians. The wages paid these blacks are from $1 to $1.25 a day. Natives carrying the hod, or bucket, rather, are paid from 6 to 12 cents a day.
Mention was made in Leg Four of Suva, Fiji, having a daily newspaper, by reason of two tri-weeklies appearing on alternate days. In Nairobi, however, two daily newspapers appear on six mornings of the week, and besides these there are also weekly and monthly publications issued. Together with local news, brief cable dispatches are printed, enough to keep one in touch with important events taking place over the world. Even linotype machines are found in that sparsely settled, out-of-the-way place. The Indian here, as everywhere, when he gets a foothold, has the printing trade killed in so far as a white man getting good wages is concerned. He sets type after a fashion for $15 to $18 a month.
In order that the reader may draw an accurate conclusion as to the meaning of the term "Darkest Africa," Nairobi, with only 1,200 whites, has the largest European population of any city north of Salisbury and Bulawayo (Rhodesia) as far as Cairo, (Egypt), or in the full length of Africa to the west and northwest.
The negro is not the horse of Nairobi. While few horses are seen, native oxen, with humps on their shoulders almost as large as a dromedary's, lumber through the streets yoked to wagons loaded with merchandise.
As the Zulu language is the key to the tribal dialects of South Africa, the Kiswahili language is likewise the key to the many native dialects in this section of Africa. The word "Wa" is plural in the Kiswahili language, and is prefixed to the name of a person or a tribe; "M" prefixed means man or individual; "U," in the same way, means place or locality, and "Ki" prefixed indicates the language. As an example, the Masai tribe would be Wamasai, Mmasai would be a Masai man, Umasai would be Masailand, and Kimasai would mean the Masai dialect or language.
Professor Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, an exponent of the philosophy of clothes, held that a majority of the people of the world devoted too much attention to the matter of unnecessary dress, a failing that militated against their moral and spiritual welfare. The men of this tribe, gaunt and gawky, wear nothing but a sort of shirt—a piece of cloth, with a hole in the center large enough to admit a head through, secured by neither string, band, nor suspenders. The original color of the shirt might once have been a mongrel brown, similar to unbleached muslin, but, as the Wakikuyu observe few wash days, the "garment" is usually many shades darker. Shoes and head covering, like the breeches, are also tabooed.
The Wakikuyu was the worst native tribe we had seen. The men looked half-starved, and it was tiresome to see them work. Excavation was being made for the foundation of a building, the dirt being carried out in small pans; sometimes these would not contain more than a cupful of earth. When coming up the incline from the excavation to the street their gait was that of a crippled snail. They receive from 6 to 12 cents a day, and possibly may earn it.
The women of the Wakikuyu tribe, on the other hand, are hard workers. They till the land, and raise flocks of goats, sheep, and cattle. They wear more clothing than the men, their principal covering being a tanned sheep or goat skin that has been soaked with grease. Dust and dirt coming in contact with the greased skin naturally give the garment an untidy appearance. What seems a cruel fashion among the women of thistribe is the mutilation of their ears. The lobes are slit, and thick chunks of sugar-cane, bamboo, calabashes, or other round articles, from the size of a thread spool to the circumference of a teacup, are pressed through. The plug and "ear bands" resemble an elastic band a quarter of an inch in width placed around a drinking glass. The plug is short, from two to three inches in length. These are forced between the "ear bands" so snugly that they will not fall out while the wearer is moving about. The woman wearing the largest plug is the best dressed, according to Wakikuyu fashion, and is envied by those of her sisters whose ear-lobes will not accommodate the larger "ornament." In many instances the punctured lobe is so extended that it becomes a loop, the ends of which sometimes rest on the shoulders. When not in use, so to speak, the ear loop is hung up on the top of the ear and seems to be secured by a knot made in that extended and flexible member. She carries her babe inside her goatskin covering in front, and a heavy basket of wood, potatoes, or other things on her back. A strap passes across her forehead, the ends secured to the basket. The great weights carried in the baskets make in time an indentation in the forehead the width of the strap.
A native of that tribe would prefer to be killed rather than touch anything dead—even a rat. If one of their number should suddenly die in the hut, every one would immediately move out and leave the dead member behind. Before taking final leave of the old home, however, time is taken to dig a hole under the side of the hut large enough to admit either a jackal or hyena, when the body would be left to be devoured by these beasts later. The Mkikuyu, though, in order to retain his abode, takes care that few deaths take place in the hut. When a member of a family becomes sick he is taken out of and led some distance away from the home and laid on the ground. Those accompanying the sick native may, with a short stick or wood, the ends resting in two crotches made of four shorter pieces held by a grass band, lay his head on the native "pillow," close to a lone thorn bush, with a short piece of goatskin covering the body. If the negro recovers he is taken back to the hut.While thus holding vigil on the veld, a vulture may be seen soaring above where the native is lying, with others appearing to view in the distance, and in the background the forms of jackals and the outline of slinking hyenas may also be apparent, for these vultures and beasts seem to know, not alone through instinct, but from former similar settings, that the body of the native, when life has left it, will not be put underground nor be removed by the superstitious tribesmen.
Many of the natives are smeared with reddish, greasy clay from head to foot. The hair, worn long by some, is plastered and shaped to resemble a turtle, with head jutting out and tail extended. They wear no shoes, and seldom a hat. One sees the native in British East Africa little different than he lived a thousand years ago.
Men wearing two soft, broad-brimmed felt hats strikes one as out of the ordinary. Nairobi is but 80 miles south of the Equator, and heavy head-covering must be worn to guard against sunstroke. Helmets are worn by a great many, but the two hats, the top one over the under one, are worn as commonly as the helmet.
A library is one of the features of the town. An electric light plant was seen here; also bioscope theaters. One thing Nairobi did not have—colored postcards that were of any interest. Motor cars spin about the streets. Food, clothes and living expenses are cheaper in Nairobi than in South Africa. Hotel accommodation was but $1.60 a day.
Coffee growing is a promising industry of that section of the Protectorate. A French mission is located a few miles from Nairobi, and the fathers, some fifteen years ago, experimented with the coffee bush. It proved a success, and several large plantations have since been established. An exorbitant price is asked for land in this district.
Irish potatoes grow in these parts, but not along the coast. The altitude of Nairobi is 5,000 feet, and, while the sun is hot in the daytime, the nights are cool.