TO THE HEART OF AFRICA1856-1859
ITHE JOURNEYI HAD long wished to “unveil Isis”—in other words, to discover the sources of the Nile and the Lake regions of Central Africa—and to this end I left London in September, 1856, for Bombay. Here I applied for Captain Speke to accompany me as second in command, as he wished much to go. My subsequent dispute with Speke is well known, and I will not refer to it here. I took him with me out of pure good nature, for, as he had suffered with me in purse and person at Berbera the year before, I thought it only just to offer him the opportunity of renewing an attempt to penetrate to the unknown regions of Central Africa. I had no other reasons. He was not a linguist, nor a man of science, nor an astronomical observer, and during the expedition he acted in a subordinate capacity only. The Court of Directors refused him leave, but I obtained it from the local authorities in Bombay. I may here add that the Royal Geographical Society had given me a grant of £1,000, and that the Court of Directors of the East India Company had given me two years’ leave.I landed at Zanzibar from Bombay on December 19th,1856, and received much kindness from Lieutenant-Colonel Hamerton, Her Majesty’s Consul. First of all I made an experimental trip, and this and the study of Zanzibar occupied my time until May 14th, 1857, when I left Zanzibar for the second time, and on the 27th of the same month I landed at Wale Point, on the east coast of Africa, about eighty-four miles from the town of Bagamoyo.I wanted to engage one hundred and seventy porters, but could only get thirty-six, and thirty animals were found, which were all dead in six months, so I had to leave a part of my things behind, including a greater part of my ammunition and my iron boat. I paid various visits to the hippopotamus haunts, and had my boat uplifted from the water upon the points of two tusks, which made corresponding holes in the bottom. My escort were under the impression that nothing less than one hundred and fifty guns and several cannon would enable them to fight a way through the perils of the interior. I was warned that I must pass through savages who shot with poisoned arrows, that I must avoid trees—which was not easy in a land of forest—that the Wazaramo had forbidden white men to enter their country, that one rhinoceros had killed two hundred men, that armies of elephants would attack my camp by night, and that the hyena was more dangerous than the Bengal tiger—altogether, not a cheerful outlook.Most of these difficulties were raised by a rascal named Ramji, who had his own ends in view. Beinga Hindoo, he thought I was ignorant of Cutchee; so one day I overheard the following conversation between him and a native.“Will he ever reach it?” asked the native, meaning the Sea of Ujiji; to which Ramji replied:“Of course not; what is he that he should pass through Ugogo?” (a province about half way).So I remarked at once that I did intend to pass Ugogo and also reach the Sea of Ujiji, that I did know Cutchee, and that if he was up to any tricks, I should be equal to him.On June 26th, 1857, I set out in earnest on a journey into the far interior.On this journey I had several queer experiences. At Nzasa I was visited by three native chiefs, who came to ascertain whether I was bound on a peaceful errand. When I assured them of my unwarlike intentions, they told me I must halt on the morrow and send forth a message to the next chief, but as this plan invariably loses three days, I replied that I could not be bound by their rules, but was ready to pay for their infraction. During the debate upon this fascinating proposal for breaking the law, one of the most turbulent of the Baloch, who were native servants in my train, drew his sword upon an old woman because she refused to give up a basket of grain. She rushed, with the face of a black Medusa, into the assembly, and created a great disturbance. When that was allayed, the principal chief asked me what brought the white man into their country, andat the same time to predict the loss of their gains and commerce, land and liberty.“I am old,” he quoth pathetically, “and my beard is grey, yet I never beheld such a calamity as this.”“These men,” replied my interpreter, “neither buy nor sell; they do not inquire into price, nor do they covet profit.”An extravagant present—for at that time I was ignorant of the price I ought to pay—opened the chiefs’ hearts, and they appointed one of their body to accompany me as far as the western half of the Kingani valley. They also caused to be performed a dance of ceremony in my honour. A line of small, plump, chestnut-coloured women, with wild, beady eyes and thatch of clay-plastered hair, dressed in their loin-cloths, with a profusion of bead necklaces and other ornaments, and with their ample bosoms tightly corded down, advanced and retired in a convulsion of wriggle and contortion, whose fit expression was a long discordant howl. I threw them a few strings of green beads, and one of these falling to the ground, I was stooping to pick it up when Said, my interpreter whispered, in my ear, “Bend not; they will say ‘He will not bend even to take up beads.’”In some places I found the attentions of the fair sex somewhat embarrassing, but when I entered the fine green fields that guarded the settlements of Muhoewee, I was meten masseby the ladies of thevillages, who came out to stare, laugh, and wonder at the white man.“What would you think of these whites as husbands?” asked one of the crowd.“With such things on their legs, not by any means!” was the unanimous reply, accompanied by peals of merriment.On July 8th I fell into what my Arab called the “Valley of Death and the Home of Hunger,” a malarious level plain. Speke, whom I shall henceforth call my companion, was compelled by sickness to ride. The path, descending into a dense thicket of spear grass, bush, and thorny trees based on sand, was rough and uneven, but when I arrived at a ragged camping kraal, I found the water bad, and a smell of decay was emitted by the dark, dank ground. It was a most appalling day, and one I shall not lightly forget. From the black clouds driven before furious blasts pattered raindrops like musket bullets, splashing the already saturated ground. Tall, stiff trees groaned and bent before the gusts; birds screamed as they were driven from their resting-places; the asses stood with heads depressed, ears hung down, and shrinking tails turned to the wind; even the beasts of the wild seemed to have taken refuge in their dens.Despite our increasing weakness, we marched on the following day, when we were interrupted by a body of about fifty Wazaramo, who called to us to halt. We bought them off with a small present of cloth and beads, and they stood aside to let us pass.I could not but admire the athletic and statuesque figures of the young warriors, and their martial attitudes, grasping in one hand their full-sized bows, and in the other sheaths of grinded arrows, whose black barbs and necks showed a fresh layer of poison.Though handicapped by a very inadequate force, in eighteen days we accomplished, despite sickness and every manner of difficulty, a march of one hundred and eighteen miles, and entered K’hutu, the safe rendezvous of foreign merchants, on July 14th. I found consolation in the thought that the expedition had passed without accident through the most dangerous part of the journey.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 isEast 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.I had to remain at Zungomero about a fortnight to await the coming of my porters. In this hot-bed of pestilence we nearly found “wet graves.” Our only lodging was under the closed eaves of a hut, built African fashion, one abode within the other; the roof was a sieve, the walls were a system of chinks, and the floor was a sheet of mud. Outside the rain poured pertinaciously, the winds were raw and chilling, and the gigantic vegetation was sopped to decay, and the river added its quotum of miasma. The hardships of the march had upset our Baloch guard, and they became almost mutinous, and would do nothing for themselves. They stole the poultry of the villagers, quarrelled violently with the slaves, and foully abused their temporal superior, Said bin Salim.When we were ready to start from Zungomero, our whole party amounted to a total of one hundred and thirty-two souls, whom I need not, I think, describe in detail. We had plenty of cloth and beads for traffic with the natives, a good store of provisions, arms, and ammunition, a certain amount of camp furniture, instruments, such as chronometers, compasses, thermometers, etc., a stock of stationery, plenty of useful tools, clothing, bedding, and shoes, books and drawing materials, a portable domestic medicine chest, and a number of miscellaneous articles. As life at Zungomero was the acme of discomfort, I was glad enough to leave it.On August 7th, 1857, our expedition left Zungomeroto cross the East African ghauts in rather a pitiful plight. We were martyred by miasma; my companion and I were so feeble that we could hardly sit our asses, and we could scarcely hear. It was a day of severe toil, and we loaded with great difficulty.From Central Zungomero to the nearest ascent of the Usagara Mountains is a march of five hours; and, after a painful and troublesome journey, we arrived at the frontier of the first gradient of the Usagara Mountains. Here we found a tattered kraal, erected by the last passing caravan, and, spent with fatigue, we threw ourselves on the short grass to rest. We were now about three hundred feet above the plain level, and there was a wondrous change of climate. Strength and health returned as if by magic; the pure sweet mountain air, alternately soft and balmy, put new life into us. Our gipsy encampment was surrounded by trees, from which depended graceful creepers, and wood-apples large as melons. Monkeys played at hide-and-seek, chattering behind the bolls, as the iguana, with its painted scale-armour, issued forth; white-breasted ravens cawed, doves cooed on well-clothed boughs, and the field cricket chirped in the shady bush. By night the view disclosed a peaceful scene, the moonbeams lying like sheets of snow upon the ruddy highlands, and the stars shone like glow-lamps in the dome above. I never wearied of contemplating the scene, and contrasting it with the Slough of Despond,unhappy Zungomero. We stayed here two days, and then resumed our upward march.All along our way we were saddened by the sight of clean-picked skeletons and here and there the swollen corpses of porters who had perished by the wayside. A single large body passed us one day, having lost fifty of their number by smallpox, and the sight of their deceased comrades made a terrible impression. Men staggered on, blinded by disease; mothers carried infants as loathsome as themselves. He who once fell never rose again. No village would admit a corpse into its precincts, and they had to lie there until their agony was ended by the vulture, the raven, and the hyena. Several of my party caught the infection, and must have thrown themselves into the jungle, for when they were missed they could not be found. The farther we went on, the more we found the corpses; it was a regular way of death. Our Moslems passed them with averted faces, and with the low “La haul” of disgust.When we arrived at Rufutah, I found that nearly all our instruments had been spoilt or broken; and one discomfort followed another until we arrived at Zonhwe, which was the turning-point of our expedition’s difficulties.As we went on, the path fell easily westwards through a long, grassy incline, cut by several water-courses. At noon I lay down fainting in the sandy bed of the Muhama, and, keeping two natives withme, I begged my companion to go on, and send me back a hammock from the halting-place. My men, who before had become mutinous and deserting, when they saw my extremity came out well; even the deserters reappeared, and they led me to a place where stagnant water was found, and said they were sorry. At two o’clock, as my companion did not send a hammock, I remounted, and passed through several little villages. I found my caravan halted on a hillside, where they had been attacked by a swarm of wild bees.Our march presented curious contrasts of this strange African nature, which is ever in extremes. At one time a splendid view would charm me; above, a sky of purest azure, flecked with fleecy clouds. The plain was as a park in autumn, burnt tawny by the sun. A party was at work merrily, as if preparing for an English harvest home. Calabashes and clumps of evergreen trees were scattered over the scene, each stretching its lordly arms aloft. The dove, the peewit, and the guinea-fowl fluttered about. The most graceful of animals, the zebra and the antelope, browsed in the distance. Then suddenly the fair scene would vanish as if by enchantment. We suddenly turned into a tangled mass of tall, fœtid reeds, rank jungle, and forest. After the fiery sun and dry atmosphere of the plains, the sudden effect of the damp and clammy chill was overpowering. In such places one feels as if poisoned by miasma; a shudder runs throughthe frame, and cold perspiration breaks over the brow.So things went on until September 4th, which still found us on the march. We had reached the basin of Inenge, which lies at the foot of the Windy Pass, the third and westernmost range of the Usagara Mountains. The climate is ever in extremes; during the day a furnace, and at night a refrigerator. Here we halted. The villagers of the settlements overlooking the ravine flocked down to barter their animals and grain.The halt was celebrated by abundant drumming and droning, which lasted half the night; it served to raise the spirits of the men, who had talked of nothing the whole day but the danger of being attacked by the Wahumba, a savage tribe. The next morning there arrived a caravan of about four hundred porters, marching to the coast under the command of some Arab merchants. We interchanged civilities, and I was allured into buying a few yards of rope and other things, and also some asses. One of my men had also increased his suite, unknown to me at first, by the addition of Zawada—the “Nice Gift.” She was a woman of about thirty, with black skin shining like a patent leather boot, a bulging brow, little red eyes, a wide mouth, which displayed a few long, scattered teeth, and a figure considerably too bulky for her thin legs. She was a patient and hardworking woman, and respectable enough in the acceptation of the term. She wasat once married off to old Musangesi, one of the donkey-men, whose nose and chin made him a caricature of our old friend Punch. After detecting her in a lengthy walk, perhaps not a solitary one, he was guilty of such cruelty to her that I felt compelled to decree a dissolution of the marriage, and she returned safely to Zanzibar. At Inenge another female slave was added to our troop in the person of Sikujui—“Don’t Know”—a herculean person with a virago manner. The channel of her upper lip had been pierced to admit a bone, which gave her the appearance of having a duck’s bill. “Don’t Know’s” morals were frightful. She was duly espoused, in the forlorn hope of making her a respectable woman, to Goha, the sturdiest of the Wak’hutu porters; after a week she treated him with sublime contempt. She gave him first one and then a dozen rivals, and she disordered the whole caravan with her irregularities, in addition to breaking every article entrusted to her charge, and at last deserted shamelessly, so that her husband finally disposed of her to a travelling trader in exchange for a few measures of rice. Her ultimate fate I do not know, but the trader came next morning to complain of a broken head.After Inenge we were in for a bad part of the journey, and great labour. Trembling with ague, with swimming heads, ears deafened by weakness, and limbs that would hardly support us, we contemplated with horrid despair the apparently perpendicular pathup which we and our starving asses were about to toil.On September 10th we hardened our hearts and began to breast the Pass Terrible. After rounding in two places wall-like sheets of rock and crossing a bushy slope, we faced a long steep of loose white soil and rolling stones, up which we could see the porters swarming more like baboons than human beings, and the asses falling every few yards. As we moved slowly and painfully forward, compelled to lie down by cough, thirst, and fatigue, the sayhah, or war-cry, rang loud from hill to hill, and Indian files of archers and spearmen streamed like lines of black ants in all directions down the paths. The predatory Wahumba, awaiting the caravan’s departure, had seized the opportunity of driving the cattle and plundering the village of Inenge.By resting every few yards, we reached, after about six hours, the summit of the Pass Terrible, and here we sat down amongst aromatic flowers and pretty shrubs to recover strength and breath.On September 14th, our health much improved by the weather, we left the hilltop and began to descend the counterslope of the Usagara Mountains. For the first time since many days I had strength enough to muster the porters and inspect their loads. The outfit which had been expected to last a year had been half exhausted within three months. I summoned Said bin Salim, and told him my anxiety. Like a veritable Arab, he declared we had enough to last untilwe reached Unyamyembe, where we should certainly be joined by reinforcements of porters.“How do you know?” I inquired.“Allah is all-knowing,” said Said. “The caravan will come.”As the fatalism was infectious, I ceased to think upon the subject.The next day we sighted the plateau of Ugogo and its eastern desert. The spectacle was truly impressive. The first aspect was stern and wild—the rough nurse of rugged men. We went on the descent from day to day until September 18th, when a final march of four hours placed us on the plains of Ugogo. Before noon I sighted from a sharp turn in the bed of a river our tent pitched under a huge sycamore, on a level step. It was a pretty spot in the barren scene, grassy, and grown with green mimosas, and here we halted for a while. The second stage of our journey was accomplished.After three days’ sojourn at Ugogo to recruit the party and lay in rations for four long desert marches, we set forth on our long march through the province of Ugogo. Our first day’s journey was over a grassy country, and we accomplished it in comparative comfort. The next day we toiled through the sunshine of the hot waste, crossing plains over paths where the slides of elephants’ feet upon the last year’s muddy clay showed that the land was not always dry. During this journey we suffered many discomforts and difficulties. The orb of day glowed like a fireball in ourfaces; then our path would take us through dense, thorny jungle, and over plains of black, cracked earth. Our caravan once rested in a thorny copse based upon rich red and yellow clay; once it was hurriedly dislodged by a swarm of wild bees, and the next morning I learnt that we had sustained a loss—one of our porters had deserted, and to his care had been committed one of the most valuable of our packages, a portmanteau containing “The Nautical Almanac,” surveying books, and most of our papers, pen, and ink.At last we arrived at Ziwa, a place where caravans generally encamped, because they found water there. At Ziwa we had many troubles. One Marema, the Sultan of a new settlement, visited us on the day of our arrival, and reproved us for sitting in the jungle, pointing the way to his village. On my replying we were going to traverse Ugogo by another road, he demanded his customs, which we refused, as they were a form of blackmail. The Sultan threatened violence, whereupon the asses were brought in from grazing and ostentatiously loaded before his eyes. He then changed his tone from threats to beggary. I gave him two cloths and a few strings of beads, preferring this to the chance of a flight of arrows during the night.When we resumed our journey, the heat was awful. The sun burnt like the breath of a bonfire, warm siroccos raised clouds of dust, and in front of us the horizon was so distant that, as the Arabs expressed themselves, a man might be seen three marches off.October 5th saw us in the centre of Kanyenye, a clearing in the jungle of about ten miles in diameter. The surface was of a red clayey soil dotted with small villages, huge calabashes, and stunted mimosas. Here I was delayed four days to settle blackmail with Magomba, the most powerful of the Wagogo chiefs. He was of a most avaricious nature. First of all I acknowledged his compliments with two cottons. On arrival at his headquarters, I was waited on by an oily Cabinet of Elders, who would not depart without their “respects”—four cottons. The next demand was made by his favourite, a hideous old Princess with more wrinkles than hair, with no hair black and no tooth white; she was not put right without a fee of six cottons. At last, accompanied by a mob of courtiers, appeared the chiefin magnifico. He was the only chief who ever entered my tent in Ugogo—pride and a propensity for strong drink prevented such visits. He was much too great a man to call upon Arab merchants, but in our case curiosity mastered State considerations. Magomba was an old man, black and wrinkled, drivelling and decrepid. He wore a coating of castor-oil and a loin-cloth which grease and use had changed from blue to black. He chewed his quid, and expectorated without mercy; he asked many questions, and was all eyes to the main chance. He demanded, and received, five cloths, one coil of brass wire, and four blue cottons. In return he made me a present of the leanest of calves, and when it was driven intocamp with much parade, his son, to crown all, put in a claim for three cottons. Yet Magomba, before our departure, boasted of his generosity—and indeed he was generous, for everything we had was in his hands, and we were truly in his power. It was, indeed, my firm conviction from first to last in this expedition that in case of attack or surprise by natives I had not a soul except my companion to stand by me, and all those who accompanied us would have either betrayed us or fled. We literally, therefore, carried our lives in our hands.We toiled on and on, suffering severely from the heat by day and sometimes the cold by night, and troubled much with mutinous porters and fears of desertion, until at last we reached the heart of the great desert, or elephant ground, known as Fiery Field. On October 20th we began the transit of this Fiery Field. The waste here appeared in its most horrid phase; a narrow goat-path serpentined in and out of a growth of poisonous thorny jungle, with thin, hard grass straw growing on a glaring white and rolling ground. The march was a severe trial, and we lost on it three boxes of ammunition. By-and-by we passed over the rolling ground, and plunged into a thorny jungle, which seemed interminable, but which gradually thinned out into a forest of thorns and gums, bush and underwood, which afforded a broad path and pleasanter travelling. Unfortunately, it did not last long, and we again had a very rough bit of ground to go over. Another forest to passthrough, and then we came out on October 27th into a clearing studded with large stockaded villages, fields of maize and millet, gourds and watermelons, and showing numerous flocks and herds. We had arrived at Unyamwezi, and our traverse of Ugogo was over.The people swarmed from their abodes, young and old hustling one another for a better stare; the man forsook his loom and the girl her hoe, and we were welcomed and escorted into the village by a tail of screaming boys and shouting adults, the males almost nude, the women bare to the waist, and clothed only knee-deep in kilts. Leading the way, our guide, according to the immemorial custom of Unyamwezi, entered uninvited andsans cérémoniethe nearest village; the long string of porters flocked in with bag and baggage, and we followed their example. We were placed under a wall-less roof, bounded on one side by the bars of the village palisade, and surrounded by a mob of starers, who relieved one another from morning to night, which made me feel like a wild beast in a menagerie.We rested some days at Unyamwezi—the far-famed “Land of the Moon”—but I was urged to advance on the ground that the natives were a dangerous race, though they appeared to be a timid and ignoble people, dripping with castor and sesamum oil, and scantily attired in shreds of cotton or greasy goat-skins. The dangers of the road between Unyamwezi and Ujiji were declared to be great. I found afterwardsthat they were grossly exaggerated, but I set forth with the impression that this last stage of my journey would be the worst of all. The country over which we travelled varied very much from day to day, being sometimes opened and streaked with a thin forest of mimosas, and at other times leading us through jungly patches. Going through a thick forest, one of the porters, having imprudently lagged behind, was clubbed and cruelly bruised by three black robbers, who relieved him of his load. These highwaymen were not unusual in this part, and their raids formed one of the many dangers we had to guard against.On November 7th, 1857, the one hundred and thirty-fourth day from the date of leaving the coast, we entered Kazeh, the principal village of Unyamwezi, much frequented by Arab merchants. I always got on well with the Arabs, and they gave me a most favourable reception. Striking indeed was the contrast between the open-handed hospitality and hearty goodwill of this truly noble race and the niggardliness of the savage and selfish Africans. Whatever I alluded to—onions, plantains, limes, vegetables, tamarinds, coffee, and other things, only to be found amongst the Arabs—were sent at once, and the very name of payment would have been an insult.Kazeh is situated in Unyamyembe, the principal province of Unyamwezi, and is a great meeting-place of merchants and point of departure for caravans, which then radiate into the interior of Central Intertropical Africa. Here the Arab merchant fromZanzibar meets his compatriot returning from the Tanganyika and Uruwwa. Many of the Arabs settle here for years, and live comfortably, and even splendidly. Their houses, though single storied, are large, substantial, and capable of defence; their gardens are extensive and well planted. They receive regular supplies of merchandise, comforts, and luxuries from the coast; they are surrounded by troops of concubines and slaves; rich men have riding asses from Zanzibar, and even the poorest keep flocks and herds.I was detained at Kazeh from November 8th until December 14th, and the delay was one long trial of patience.It is customary for stranger caravans proceeding towards Ujiji to remain six weeks or two months at Unyamyembe for repose and recovery from the labours which they have endured; moreover, they are expected to enjoy the pleasures of civilised society, and to accept the hospitality offered them by the resident Arabs. In Eastern Africa, I may mention, six weeks was the same as the three days’ visit in England.The morning after our arrival at Kazeh a great number of our porters left us, and the rest of our party apparently considered that Unyamyembe, and not Ujiji, was the end of the exploration. Several of them were mutinous when I told them they would not be rewarded for safe-conduct until we had reached the end of the up march, which was nothere; and these difficulties took a long time to settle. Kazeh, indeed, proved in effect a second point of departure, easier only because I had now gained some experience. Another cause of delay was the sickness of many of our people, and it took some time for them to shake off the ague which they had contracted. Indeed, the wing of Azrael seemed waving over my own head. Nevertheless, on the morning of December 15th I started off afresh, charmed with the prospect of a fine open country, and delighted to get away from what had been to me a veritable imprisonment.I will not describe the details of our march, which went on without a break. Christmas Day found us still marching, and so on day after day, if I except an enforced halt of twelve days at Msene. On January 10th, 1858, I left Msene, with considerable difficulty through the mutiny of porters; and so we pressed on, more or less with difficulty, until at last a formidable obstacle to progress presented itself. I had been suffering for some days; the miasmatic airs of Sorora had sown the seeds of a fresh illness. On the afternoon of January 18th, 1858, I was seized with an attack of fever, and then paralysis set in from the feet upwards, and I was completelyhors de combat. There seemed nothing left for me but to lie down and die. One of my chief porters declared that the case was beyond his skill: it was one of partial paralysis, brought on by malaria, and he called in an Arab, who looked at me also. TheArab was more cheerful, and successfully predicted that I should be able to move in ten days. On the tenth I again mounted my ass, but the paralysis wore off very slowly, and prevented me from walking any distance for nearly a year. The sensation of numbness in my hands and feet disappeared even more slowly than that. I had, however, undertaken the journey in a “nothing like leather” frame of mind, and was determined to press on. So we pressed.We had now left the “Land of the Moon” behind us, and entered upon a new district. The road before us lay through a howling wilderness, and the march lay along the right bank of a malarial river, and the mosquitoes feasted right royally upon our bodies, even in the daytime. A good deal of the ground was very swampy, and it then stretched over jungly and wooded hill-spires, with steep ascents and descents. Everywhere was thick, fœtid, and putrescent vegetation. The heaviness of this march caused two of our porters to levant and another four to strike work. It was, therefore, necessary for me to again mount ass ten days after an attack of paralysis. So we dragged on for the next week, throughout the early days of February, a weary toil of fighting through tiger and spear grass, over broken and slippery paths, and through thick jungle. But these difficulties were lightly borne, for we felt that we must be nearing the end of our journey.On February 13th we resumed our travel throughscreens of lofty grass, which thinned out into a straggling forest. After about an hour’s march, as we entered a small savannah, I saw our Arab leader running forward and changing the direction of the caravan. Presently he breasted a steep and stony hill, sparsely clad with thorny trees. Arrived at the summit with toil, for our fagged beasts now refused to proceed, we halted for a few minutes and gazed.“What is that streak of light which lies below?” I inquired of Seedy Bombay, one of our porters.“I am of opinion,” quoth Seedy, “that is the water.”I gazed in dismay. The remains of my blindness, the veil of trees, and broad ray of sunshine illuminating but one reach of the lake, had shrunk its fair proportions. Prematurely I began to curse my folly in having risked life and health for so poor a prize, and even thought of proposing an immediate return with a view of exploring the Nyanza, or Northern Lake. Advancing, however, a few yards, the whole scene suddenly burst upon my view, filling me with wonder, admiration, and delight. My longing eyes beheld the Tanganyika Lake as it lay in the lap of the mountain, basking in the gorgeous tropical sunshine. Our journey had not been in vain.
I HAD long wished to “unveil Isis”—in other words, to discover the sources of the Nile and the Lake regions of Central Africa—and to this end I left London in September, 1856, for Bombay. Here I applied for Captain Speke to accompany me as second in command, as he wished much to go. My subsequent dispute with Speke is well known, and I will not refer to it here. I took him with me out of pure good nature, for, as he had suffered with me in purse and person at Berbera the year before, I thought it only just to offer him the opportunity of renewing an attempt to penetrate to the unknown regions of Central Africa. I had no other reasons. He was not a linguist, nor a man of science, nor an astronomical observer, and during the expedition he acted in a subordinate capacity only. The Court of Directors refused him leave, but I obtained it from the local authorities in Bombay. I may here add that the Royal Geographical Society had given me a grant of £1,000, and that the Court of Directors of the East India Company had given me two years’ leave.
I landed at Zanzibar from Bombay on December 19th,1856, and received much kindness from Lieutenant-Colonel Hamerton, Her Majesty’s Consul. First of all I made an experimental trip, and this and the study of Zanzibar occupied my time until May 14th, 1857, when I left Zanzibar for the second time, and on the 27th of the same month I landed at Wale Point, on the east coast of Africa, about eighty-four miles from the town of Bagamoyo.
I wanted to engage one hundred and seventy porters, but could only get thirty-six, and thirty animals were found, which were all dead in six months, so I had to leave a part of my things behind, including a greater part of my ammunition and my iron boat. I paid various visits to the hippopotamus haunts, and had my boat uplifted from the water upon the points of two tusks, which made corresponding holes in the bottom. My escort were under the impression that nothing less than one hundred and fifty guns and several cannon would enable them to fight a way through the perils of the interior. I was warned that I must pass through savages who shot with poisoned arrows, that I must avoid trees—which was not easy in a land of forest—that the Wazaramo had forbidden white men to enter their country, that one rhinoceros had killed two hundred men, that armies of elephants would attack my camp by night, and that the hyena was more dangerous than the Bengal tiger—altogether, not a cheerful outlook.
Most of these difficulties were raised by a rascal named Ramji, who had his own ends in view. Beinga Hindoo, he thought I was ignorant of Cutchee; so one day I overheard the following conversation between him and a native.
“Will he ever reach it?” asked the native, meaning the Sea of Ujiji; to which Ramji replied:
“Of course not; what is he that he should pass through Ugogo?” (a province about half way).
So I remarked at once that I did intend to pass Ugogo and also reach the Sea of Ujiji, that I did know Cutchee, and that if he was up to any tricks, I should be equal to him.
On June 26th, 1857, I set out in earnest on a journey into the far interior.
On this journey I had several queer experiences. At Nzasa I was visited by three native chiefs, who came to ascertain whether I was bound on a peaceful errand. When I assured them of my unwarlike intentions, they told me I must halt on the morrow and send forth a message to the next chief, but as this plan invariably loses three days, I replied that I could not be bound by their rules, but was ready to pay for their infraction. During the debate upon this fascinating proposal for breaking the law, one of the most turbulent of the Baloch, who were native servants in my train, drew his sword upon an old woman because she refused to give up a basket of grain. She rushed, with the face of a black Medusa, into the assembly, and created a great disturbance. When that was allayed, the principal chief asked me what brought the white man into their country, andat the same time to predict the loss of their gains and commerce, land and liberty.
“I am old,” he quoth pathetically, “and my beard is grey, yet I never beheld such a calamity as this.”
“These men,” replied my interpreter, “neither buy nor sell; they do not inquire into price, nor do they covet profit.”
An extravagant present—for at that time I was ignorant of the price I ought to pay—opened the chiefs’ hearts, and they appointed one of their body to accompany me as far as the western half of the Kingani valley. They also caused to be performed a dance of ceremony in my honour. A line of small, plump, chestnut-coloured women, with wild, beady eyes and thatch of clay-plastered hair, dressed in their loin-cloths, with a profusion of bead necklaces and other ornaments, and with their ample bosoms tightly corded down, advanced and retired in a convulsion of wriggle and contortion, whose fit expression was a long discordant howl. I threw them a few strings of green beads, and one of these falling to the ground, I was stooping to pick it up when Said, my interpreter whispered, in my ear, “Bend not; they will say ‘He will not bend even to take up beads.’”
In some places I found the attentions of the fair sex somewhat embarrassing, but when I entered the fine green fields that guarded the settlements of Muhoewee, I was meten masseby the ladies of thevillages, who came out to stare, laugh, and wonder at the white man.
“What would you think of these whites as husbands?” asked one of the crowd.
“With such things on their legs, not by any means!” was the unanimous reply, accompanied by peals of merriment.
On July 8th I fell into what my Arab called the “Valley of Death and the Home of Hunger,” a malarious level plain. Speke, whom I shall henceforth call my companion, was compelled by sickness to ride. The path, descending into a dense thicket of spear grass, bush, and thorny trees based on sand, was rough and uneven, but when I arrived at a ragged camping kraal, I found the water bad, and a smell of decay was emitted by the dark, dank ground. It was a most appalling day, and one I shall not lightly forget. From the black clouds driven before furious blasts pattered raindrops like musket bullets, splashing the already saturated ground. Tall, stiff trees groaned and bent before the gusts; birds screamed as they were driven from their resting-places; the asses stood with heads depressed, ears hung down, and shrinking tails turned to the wind; even the beasts of the wild seemed to have taken refuge in their dens.
Despite our increasing weakness, we marched on the following day, when we were interrupted by a body of about fifty Wazaramo, who called to us to halt. We bought them off with a small present of cloth and beads, and they stood aside to let us pass.I could not but admire the athletic and statuesque figures of the young warriors, and their martial attitudes, grasping in one hand their full-sized bows, and in the other sheaths of grinded arrows, whose black barbs and necks showed a fresh layer of poison.
Though handicapped by a very inadequate force, in eighteen days we accomplished, despite sickness and every manner of difficulty, a march of one hundred and eighteen miles, and entered K’hutu, the safe rendezvous of foreign merchants, on July 14th. I found consolation in the thought that the expedition had passed without accident through the most dangerous part of the journey.
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 isEast 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.
I had to remain at Zungomero about a fortnight to await the coming of my porters. In this hot-bed of pestilence we nearly found “wet graves.” Our only lodging was under the closed eaves of a hut, built African fashion, one abode within the other; the roof was a sieve, the walls were a system of chinks, and the floor was a sheet of mud. Outside the rain poured pertinaciously, the winds were raw and chilling, and the gigantic vegetation was sopped to decay, and the river added its quotum of miasma. The hardships of the march had upset our Baloch guard, and they became almost mutinous, and would do nothing for themselves. They stole the poultry of the villagers, quarrelled violently with the slaves, and foully abused their temporal superior, Said bin Salim.
When we were ready to start from Zungomero, our whole party amounted to a total of one hundred and thirty-two souls, whom I need not, I think, describe in detail. We had plenty of cloth and beads for traffic with the natives, a good store of provisions, arms, and ammunition, a certain amount of camp furniture, instruments, such as chronometers, compasses, thermometers, etc., a stock of stationery, plenty of useful tools, clothing, bedding, and shoes, books and drawing materials, a portable domestic medicine chest, and a number of miscellaneous articles. As life at Zungomero was the acme of discomfort, I was glad enough to leave it.
On August 7th, 1857, our expedition left Zungomeroto cross the East African ghauts in rather a pitiful plight. We were martyred by miasma; my companion and I were so feeble that we could hardly sit our asses, and we could scarcely hear. It was a day of severe toil, and we loaded with great difficulty.
From Central Zungomero to the nearest ascent of the Usagara Mountains is a march of five hours; and, after a painful and troublesome journey, we arrived at the frontier of the first gradient of the Usagara Mountains. Here we found a tattered kraal, erected by the last passing caravan, and, spent with fatigue, we threw ourselves on the short grass to rest. We were now about three hundred feet above the plain level, and there was a wondrous change of climate. Strength and health returned as if by magic; the pure sweet mountain air, alternately soft and balmy, put new life into us. Our gipsy encampment was surrounded by trees, from which depended graceful creepers, and wood-apples large as melons. Monkeys played at hide-and-seek, chattering behind the bolls, as the iguana, with its painted scale-armour, issued forth; white-breasted ravens cawed, doves cooed on well-clothed boughs, and the field cricket chirped in the shady bush. By night the view disclosed a peaceful scene, the moonbeams lying like sheets of snow upon the ruddy highlands, and the stars shone like glow-lamps in the dome above. I never wearied of contemplating the scene, and contrasting it with the Slough of Despond,unhappy Zungomero. We stayed here two days, and then resumed our upward march.
All along our way we were saddened by the sight of clean-picked skeletons and here and there the swollen corpses of porters who had perished by the wayside. A single large body passed us one day, having lost fifty of their number by smallpox, and the sight of their deceased comrades made a terrible impression. Men staggered on, blinded by disease; mothers carried infants as loathsome as themselves. He who once fell never rose again. No village would admit a corpse into its precincts, and they had to lie there until their agony was ended by the vulture, the raven, and the hyena. Several of my party caught the infection, and must have thrown themselves into the jungle, for when they were missed they could not be found. The farther we went on, the more we found the corpses; it was a regular way of death. Our Moslems passed them with averted faces, and with the low “La haul” of disgust.
When we arrived at Rufutah, I found that nearly all our instruments had been spoilt or broken; and one discomfort followed another until we arrived at Zonhwe, which was the turning-point of our expedition’s difficulties.
As we went on, the path fell easily westwards through a long, grassy incline, cut by several water-courses. At noon I lay down fainting in the sandy bed of the Muhama, and, keeping two natives withme, I begged my companion to go on, and send me back a hammock from the halting-place. My men, who before had become mutinous and deserting, when they saw my extremity came out well; even the deserters reappeared, and they led me to a place where stagnant water was found, and said they were sorry. At two o’clock, as my companion did not send a hammock, I remounted, and passed through several little villages. I found my caravan halted on a hillside, where they had been attacked by a swarm of wild bees.
Our march presented curious contrasts of this strange African nature, which is ever in extremes. At one time a splendid view would charm me; above, a sky of purest azure, flecked with fleecy clouds. The plain was as a park in autumn, burnt tawny by the sun. A party was at work merrily, as if preparing for an English harvest home. Calabashes and clumps of evergreen trees were scattered over the scene, each stretching its lordly arms aloft. The dove, the peewit, and the guinea-fowl fluttered about. The most graceful of animals, the zebra and the antelope, browsed in the distance. Then suddenly the fair scene would vanish as if by enchantment. We suddenly turned into a tangled mass of tall, fœtid reeds, rank jungle, and forest. After the fiery sun and dry atmosphere of the plains, the sudden effect of the damp and clammy chill was overpowering. In such places one feels as if poisoned by miasma; a shudder runs throughthe frame, and cold perspiration breaks over the brow.
So things went on until September 4th, which still found us on the march. We had reached the basin of Inenge, which lies at the foot of the Windy Pass, the third and westernmost range of the Usagara Mountains. The climate is ever in extremes; during the day a furnace, and at night a refrigerator. Here we halted. The villagers of the settlements overlooking the ravine flocked down to barter their animals and grain.
The halt was celebrated by abundant drumming and droning, which lasted half the night; it served to raise the spirits of the men, who had talked of nothing the whole day but the danger of being attacked by the Wahumba, a savage tribe. The next morning there arrived a caravan of about four hundred porters, marching to the coast under the command of some Arab merchants. We interchanged civilities, and I was allured into buying a few yards of rope and other things, and also some asses. One of my men had also increased his suite, unknown to me at first, by the addition of Zawada—the “Nice Gift.” She was a woman of about thirty, with black skin shining like a patent leather boot, a bulging brow, little red eyes, a wide mouth, which displayed a few long, scattered teeth, and a figure considerably too bulky for her thin legs. She was a patient and hardworking woman, and respectable enough in the acceptation of the term. She wasat once married off to old Musangesi, one of the donkey-men, whose nose and chin made him a caricature of our old friend Punch. After detecting her in a lengthy walk, perhaps not a solitary one, he was guilty of such cruelty to her that I felt compelled to decree a dissolution of the marriage, and she returned safely to Zanzibar. At Inenge another female slave was added to our troop in the person of Sikujui—“Don’t Know”—a herculean person with a virago manner. The channel of her upper lip had been pierced to admit a bone, which gave her the appearance of having a duck’s bill. “Don’t Know’s” morals were frightful. She was duly espoused, in the forlorn hope of making her a respectable woman, to Goha, the sturdiest of the Wak’hutu porters; after a week she treated him with sublime contempt. She gave him first one and then a dozen rivals, and she disordered the whole caravan with her irregularities, in addition to breaking every article entrusted to her charge, and at last deserted shamelessly, so that her husband finally disposed of her to a travelling trader in exchange for a few measures of rice. Her ultimate fate I do not know, but the trader came next morning to complain of a broken head.
After Inenge we were in for a bad part of the journey, and great labour. Trembling with ague, with swimming heads, ears deafened by weakness, and limbs that would hardly support us, we contemplated with horrid despair the apparently perpendicular pathup which we and our starving asses were about to toil.
On September 10th we hardened our hearts and began to breast the Pass Terrible. After rounding in two places wall-like sheets of rock and crossing a bushy slope, we faced a long steep of loose white soil and rolling stones, up which we could see the porters swarming more like baboons than human beings, and the asses falling every few yards. As we moved slowly and painfully forward, compelled to lie down by cough, thirst, and fatigue, the sayhah, or war-cry, rang loud from hill to hill, and Indian files of archers and spearmen streamed like lines of black ants in all directions down the paths. The predatory Wahumba, awaiting the caravan’s departure, had seized the opportunity of driving the cattle and plundering the village of Inenge.
By resting every few yards, we reached, after about six hours, the summit of the Pass Terrible, and here we sat down amongst aromatic flowers and pretty shrubs to recover strength and breath.
On September 14th, our health much improved by the weather, we left the hilltop and began to descend the counterslope of the Usagara Mountains. For the first time since many days I had strength enough to muster the porters and inspect their loads. The outfit which had been expected to last a year had been half exhausted within three months. I summoned Said bin Salim, and told him my anxiety. Like a veritable Arab, he declared we had enough to last untilwe reached Unyamyembe, where we should certainly be joined by reinforcements of porters.
“How do you know?” I inquired.
“Allah is all-knowing,” said Said. “The caravan will come.”
As the fatalism was infectious, I ceased to think upon the subject.
The next day we sighted the plateau of Ugogo and its eastern desert. The spectacle was truly impressive. The first aspect was stern and wild—the rough nurse of rugged men. We went on the descent from day to day until September 18th, when a final march of four hours placed us on the plains of Ugogo. Before noon I sighted from a sharp turn in the bed of a river our tent pitched under a huge sycamore, on a level step. It was a pretty spot in the barren scene, grassy, and grown with green mimosas, and here we halted for a while. The second stage of our journey was accomplished.
After three days’ sojourn at Ugogo to recruit the party and lay in rations for four long desert marches, we set forth on our long march through the province of Ugogo. Our first day’s journey was over a grassy country, and we accomplished it in comparative comfort. The next day we toiled through the sunshine of the hot waste, crossing plains over paths where the slides of elephants’ feet upon the last year’s muddy clay showed that the land was not always dry. During this journey we suffered many discomforts and difficulties. The orb of day glowed like a fireball in ourfaces; then our path would take us through dense, thorny jungle, and over plains of black, cracked earth. Our caravan once rested in a thorny copse based upon rich red and yellow clay; once it was hurriedly dislodged by a swarm of wild bees, and the next morning I learnt that we had sustained a loss—one of our porters had deserted, and to his care had been committed one of the most valuable of our packages, a portmanteau containing “The Nautical Almanac,” surveying books, and most of our papers, pen, and ink.
At last we arrived at Ziwa, a place where caravans generally encamped, because they found water there. At Ziwa we had many troubles. One Marema, the Sultan of a new settlement, visited us on the day of our arrival, and reproved us for sitting in the jungle, pointing the way to his village. On my replying we were going to traverse Ugogo by another road, he demanded his customs, which we refused, as they were a form of blackmail. The Sultan threatened violence, whereupon the asses were brought in from grazing and ostentatiously loaded before his eyes. He then changed his tone from threats to beggary. I gave him two cloths and a few strings of beads, preferring this to the chance of a flight of arrows during the night.
When we resumed our journey, the heat was awful. The sun burnt like the breath of a bonfire, warm siroccos raised clouds of dust, and in front of us the horizon was so distant that, as the Arabs expressed themselves, a man might be seen three marches off.
October 5th saw us in the centre of Kanyenye, a clearing in the jungle of about ten miles in diameter. The surface was of a red clayey soil dotted with small villages, huge calabashes, and stunted mimosas. Here I was delayed four days to settle blackmail with Magomba, the most powerful of the Wagogo chiefs. He was of a most avaricious nature. First of all I acknowledged his compliments with two cottons. On arrival at his headquarters, I was waited on by an oily Cabinet of Elders, who would not depart without their “respects”—four cottons. The next demand was made by his favourite, a hideous old Princess with more wrinkles than hair, with no hair black and no tooth white; she was not put right without a fee of six cottons. At last, accompanied by a mob of courtiers, appeared the chiefin magnifico. He was the only chief who ever entered my tent in Ugogo—pride and a propensity for strong drink prevented such visits. He was much too great a man to call upon Arab merchants, but in our case curiosity mastered State considerations. Magomba was an old man, black and wrinkled, drivelling and decrepid. He wore a coating of castor-oil and a loin-cloth which grease and use had changed from blue to black. He chewed his quid, and expectorated without mercy; he asked many questions, and was all eyes to the main chance. He demanded, and received, five cloths, one coil of brass wire, and four blue cottons. In return he made me a present of the leanest of calves, and when it was driven intocamp with much parade, his son, to crown all, put in a claim for three cottons. Yet Magomba, before our departure, boasted of his generosity—and indeed he was generous, for everything we had was in his hands, and we were truly in his power. It was, indeed, my firm conviction from first to last in this expedition that in case of attack or surprise by natives I had not a soul except my companion to stand by me, and all those who accompanied us would have either betrayed us or fled. We literally, therefore, carried our lives in our hands.
We toiled on and on, suffering severely from the heat by day and sometimes the cold by night, and troubled much with mutinous porters and fears of desertion, until at last we reached the heart of the great desert, or elephant ground, known as Fiery Field. On October 20th we began the transit of this Fiery Field. The waste here appeared in its most horrid phase; a narrow goat-path serpentined in and out of a growth of poisonous thorny jungle, with thin, hard grass straw growing on a glaring white and rolling ground. The march was a severe trial, and we lost on it three boxes of ammunition. By-and-by we passed over the rolling ground, and plunged into a thorny jungle, which seemed interminable, but which gradually thinned out into a forest of thorns and gums, bush and underwood, which afforded a broad path and pleasanter travelling. Unfortunately, it did not last long, and we again had a very rough bit of ground to go over. Another forest to passthrough, and then we came out on October 27th into a clearing studded with large stockaded villages, fields of maize and millet, gourds and watermelons, and showing numerous flocks and herds. We had arrived at Unyamwezi, and our traverse of Ugogo was over.
The people swarmed from their abodes, young and old hustling one another for a better stare; the man forsook his loom and the girl her hoe, and we were welcomed and escorted into the village by a tail of screaming boys and shouting adults, the males almost nude, the women bare to the waist, and clothed only knee-deep in kilts. Leading the way, our guide, according to the immemorial custom of Unyamwezi, entered uninvited andsans cérémoniethe nearest village; the long string of porters flocked in with bag and baggage, and we followed their example. We were placed under a wall-less roof, bounded on one side by the bars of the village palisade, and surrounded by a mob of starers, who relieved one another from morning to night, which made me feel like a wild beast in a menagerie.
We rested some days at Unyamwezi—the far-famed “Land of the Moon”—but I was urged to advance on the ground that the natives were a dangerous race, though they appeared to be a timid and ignoble people, dripping with castor and sesamum oil, and scantily attired in shreds of cotton or greasy goat-skins. The dangers of the road between Unyamwezi and Ujiji were declared to be great. I found afterwardsthat they were grossly exaggerated, but I set forth with the impression that this last stage of my journey would be the worst of all. The country over which we travelled varied very much from day to day, being sometimes opened and streaked with a thin forest of mimosas, and at other times leading us through jungly patches. Going through a thick forest, one of the porters, having imprudently lagged behind, was clubbed and cruelly bruised by three black robbers, who relieved him of his load. These highwaymen were not unusual in this part, and their raids formed one of the many dangers we had to guard against.
On November 7th, 1857, the one hundred and thirty-fourth day from the date of leaving the coast, we entered Kazeh, the principal village of Unyamwezi, much frequented by Arab merchants. I always got on well with the Arabs, and they gave me a most favourable reception. Striking indeed was the contrast between the open-handed hospitality and hearty goodwill of this truly noble race and the niggardliness of the savage and selfish Africans. Whatever I alluded to—onions, plantains, limes, vegetables, tamarinds, coffee, and other things, only to be found amongst the Arabs—were sent at once, and the very name of payment would have been an insult.
Kazeh is situated in Unyamyembe, the principal province of Unyamwezi, and is a great meeting-place of merchants and point of departure for caravans, which then radiate into the interior of Central Intertropical Africa. Here the Arab merchant fromZanzibar meets his compatriot returning from the Tanganyika and Uruwwa. Many of the Arabs settle here for years, and live comfortably, and even splendidly. Their houses, though single storied, are large, substantial, and capable of defence; their gardens are extensive and well planted. They receive regular supplies of merchandise, comforts, and luxuries from the coast; they are surrounded by troops of concubines and slaves; rich men have riding asses from Zanzibar, and even the poorest keep flocks and herds.
I was detained at Kazeh from November 8th until December 14th, and the delay was one long trial of patience.
It is customary for stranger caravans proceeding towards Ujiji to remain six weeks or two months at Unyamyembe for repose and recovery from the labours which they have endured; moreover, they are expected to enjoy the pleasures of civilised society, and to accept the hospitality offered them by the resident Arabs. In Eastern Africa, I may mention, six weeks was the same as the three days’ visit in England.
The morning after our arrival at Kazeh a great number of our porters left us, and the rest of our party apparently considered that Unyamyembe, and not Ujiji, was the end of the exploration. Several of them were mutinous when I told them they would not be rewarded for safe-conduct until we had reached the end of the up march, which was nothere; and these difficulties took a long time to settle. Kazeh, indeed, proved in effect a second point of departure, easier only because I had now gained some experience. Another cause of delay was the sickness of many of our people, and it took some time for them to shake off the ague which they had contracted. Indeed, the wing of Azrael seemed waving over my own head. Nevertheless, on the morning of December 15th I started off afresh, charmed with the prospect of a fine open country, and delighted to get away from what had been to me a veritable imprisonment.
I will not describe the details of our march, which went on without a break. Christmas Day found us still marching, and so on day after day, if I except an enforced halt of twelve days at Msene. On January 10th, 1858, I left Msene, with considerable difficulty through the mutiny of porters; and so we pressed on, more or less with difficulty, until at last a formidable obstacle to progress presented itself. I had been suffering for some days; the miasmatic airs of Sorora had sown the seeds of a fresh illness. On the afternoon of January 18th, 1858, I was seized with an attack of fever, and then paralysis set in from the feet upwards, and I was completelyhors de combat. There seemed nothing left for me but to lie down and die. One of my chief porters declared that the case was beyond his skill: it was one of partial paralysis, brought on by malaria, and he called in an Arab, who looked at me also. TheArab was more cheerful, and successfully predicted that I should be able to move in ten days. On the tenth I again mounted my ass, but the paralysis wore off very slowly, and prevented me from walking any distance for nearly a year. The sensation of numbness in my hands and feet disappeared even more slowly than that. I had, however, undertaken the journey in a “nothing like leather” frame of mind, and was determined to press on. So we pressed.
We had now left the “Land of the Moon” behind us, and entered upon a new district. The road before us lay through a howling wilderness, and the march lay along the right bank of a malarial river, and the mosquitoes feasted right royally upon our bodies, even in the daytime. A good deal of the ground was very swampy, and it then stretched over jungly and wooded hill-spires, with steep ascents and descents. Everywhere was thick, fœtid, and putrescent vegetation. The heaviness of this march caused two of our porters to levant and another four to strike work. It was, therefore, necessary for me to again mount ass ten days after an attack of paralysis. So we dragged on for the next week, throughout the early days of February, a weary toil of fighting through tiger and spear grass, over broken and slippery paths, and through thick jungle. But these difficulties were lightly borne, for we felt that we must be nearing the end of our journey.
On February 13th we resumed our travel throughscreens of lofty grass, which thinned out into a straggling forest. After about an hour’s march, as we entered a small savannah, I saw our Arab leader running forward and changing the direction of the caravan. Presently he breasted a steep and stony hill, sparsely clad with thorny trees. Arrived at the summit with toil, for our fagged beasts now refused to proceed, we halted for a few minutes and gazed.
“What is that streak of light which lies below?” I inquired of Seedy Bombay, one of our porters.
“I am of opinion,” quoth Seedy, “that is the water.”
I gazed in dismay. The remains of my blindness, the veil of trees, and broad ray of sunshine illuminating but one reach of the lake, had shrunk its fair proportions. Prematurely I began to curse my folly in having risked life and health for so poor a prize, and even thought of proposing an immediate return with a view of exploring the Nyanza, or Northern Lake. Advancing, however, a few yards, the whole scene suddenly burst upon my view, filling me with wonder, admiration, and delight. My longing eyes beheld the Tanganyika Lake as it lay in the lap of the mountain, basking in the gorgeous tropical sunshine. Our journey had not been in vain.