for the voyage into the Unknown. The loads were got out and lined up.
First of all an askari, with a Snider rifle very proud in a hide belt
with five Martini cartridges gleaming yellow in it. He had carefully
polished them with sand for the occasion. Likewise the barrel of the old
Snider showed signs of much rubbing, and a piece of fat from the tail of
a sheep dangled by a short string from the hammer. Then my chop-boxes,
and camp gear borne by porters, followed by my boy Suede and Suliemani,
the cook, of cannibal parentage be it whispered. As usual, all the small
loads seemed to be jauntily and lightly perched on the massive heads and
necks of the biggest porters, while the big loads looked doubly big in
comparison to the spindly shanks which appeared below them. One enormous
porter in particular drew my attention. He was capering about in the most
fantastic manner with a large box on his head. From the rattle which
proceeded from the box I perceived that this was the cook’s mate, and
as I possessed only a few aluminium cooking pots, his was perhaps the
lightest load of any, and I vowed that he should have a good heavy tusk
to carry as soon as possible. This I was enabled to do soon after passing
the Turkwell, and this splendid head-carrier took entire charge of a tusk
weighing 123 lb., carrying it with pride for several hundred weary miles
on a daily ration of 1 lb. of mtama grain and unlimited buck meat.
Usually when a safari started from Mumias for the “Barra”—as the bush
or wilderness is called—the townsfolk would turn out with drums and
horns to give them a send off, but in our case we departed without any
demonstration of that sort. We passed through almost deserted and silent
streets, and we struck out for the Turkwell, the trail skirting the base
of Elgon for six days, as we travelled slowly, being heavily laden. I
was able to find and shoot enough haartebeeste and oribi to keep the
safari in meat, and after two or three days’ march the boys became better
and better and the bullocks more and more docile. I purposely made the
marches more easy at first in order to avoid sore backs, and it was easy
to do so, as there were good streams of water crossing our path every few
miles.
On the seventh day we reached the Turkwell River. After descending
several hundred feet from the high plateau we crossed by the ford and
pitched camp on the opposite or north bank. The Turkwell has its sources
in the crater of Elgon and its slopes. Its waters reach the dry, hot
plains of Karamojo after a drop of about 9,000 ft. in perhaps twenty or
thirty miles. In the dry season—when it is fordable almost anywhere—it
totally disappears into its sandy river bed while still some days’ march
from its goal, Lake Rudolph. It is a queer and romantic river, for it
starts in lava 14,000 ft. above sea-level, traverses bitterly cold and
often snow-covered heath land, plunges down through the dense bamboo
belt, then through dark and dripping evergreen forest to emerge on the
sandy plains of Karamojo. From this point to Rudolph its banks are
clothed with a more or less dense belt of immense flat-topped thorn trees
interspersed with thickets of every kind of thorny bush, the haunt of
rhino, buffalo and elephant. Throughout its entire course its waters were
drunk, at the time of which I write, by immense herds of elephant during
the dry season. Even after disappearing underground, elephant and natives
easily procured water by simply making holes in the soft clean sands of
its river bed.
At that time the Turkwell formed the northern boundary of European rule.
North of it was no rule but disrule. The nearest cultivated settlement
of Karamojo natives was at Mani-Mani, some 150 miles to the north, but
scattered about in the bush were many temporary settlements of poor
Karamojans who got their living by hunting and snaring everything from
elephant downwards.
Dreadful tales of murders of peaceful travellers had been related by
Swahilis, and we were careful not to let anyone straggle far from the
main body. At night my eight askaris mounted guard and kept a huge
fire going. Their vigilance was extraordinary, and their keenness and
cheerfulness, fidelity and courage of a very high order, showing them
to be born soldiers. Their shooting was simply atrocious, in spite of
practice with a ·22 I had, but notwithstanding their inability to align
and aim a rifle properly, they used sometimes to bring off the most
brilliant shots under the most impossible conditions of shooting light,
thereby showing a great natural aptitude to point a gun and time the shot.
While we were drying out the gear that had got wet while crossing the
Turkwell two natives strolled into the camp. These were the first
Karamojans we had seen, and I was very much interested in them. They
showed great independence of bearing as they stood about leaning on their
long thrusting spears. I had some difficulty in getting into conversation
with them, although I had an excellent interpreter. They seemed very
taciturn and suspicious. However, I got it explained to them that I had
come for one purpose only, _i.e._, to hunt elephant. They admitted that
there were plenty of elephant, but when I asked them to show me where to
look for them they merely asked me how I proposed to kill them when I
did see them. On showing them my rifle they laughed, and said they had
seen Swahili traders using those things for elephants and, although they
killed men well enough, they were useless against elephant. My answer
to this was that I had procured some wonderful medicine which enabled
me to kill the largest-sized elephant with one shot, and that if they
would like to see this medicine working all they had to do was to show
me where the elephant were and that I would do the rest and they should
have as much meat as they wanted. They retorted that if my medicine was
truly sufficiently powerful to kill an elephant instantaneously, then
they could not believe that it would fail to show me their whereabouts
also. This grave fault in my medicine had to be explained, and I could
only say that I grieved heartily over the deficiency, which I attributed
to the jealousy of a medicine man who was a rival of him who had given
me the killing medicine. This left them not altogether satisfied, but a
better impression was produced when I presented them with a quarter of
buck meat, while telling them that I killed that kind of meat every day.
They went off without holding out any hope of showing me elephant, and
I thought that I had seen the last of them. I sat until late in my long
chair by the camp fire under a brilliant sky and wonderful moon listening
to the talk of my Nzamwezi boys and wondering how we were going to fare
in the real wild land ahead of us.
An early start was made next morning and we had covered perhaps six or
seven miles when the two natives, visitors to our camp of yesterday, came
stalking along appearing to cover the ground at a great rate without
showing any hurry or fuss. I stopped and called the interpreter and
soon learned that four large elephants had that morning passed close to
their camp in the bush and that when they left to call me the elephants
could still be heard in the vicinity. At once I was for going, but
the interpreter and the headman both cautioned me against treachery,
declaring that it was only a blind to separate us preparatory to a
general massacre. This view I thought a bit far fetched, but I ordered
the safari to get under weigh and to travel well together until they
reached the first water, where they were immediately to cut sufficient
thorn trees to completely encircle themselves in camp, to keep a good
look-out and to await my coming.
Taking my small boy and the gigantic cook’s mate—whose feather-weight
load I had transferred to the cook’s head—I hastily put together a few
necessities and hurried off with the two Karamojans at a great pace. We
soon struck off from the main trail and headed for the Turkwell Valley.
Straight through the open thorn bush we went, the elephant hide sandals
of my native guides crunching innumerable darning-needle-sized thorns
underfoot, the following porters with their light loads at a jog trot,
myself at a fast but laboured walk, while the guides simply soaked along
with consummate ease.
Supremely undemonstrative as natives usually are, there was yet
observable a kind of suppressed excitement about their bearing, and I
noticed that whenever a certain bird called on the right hand the leader
would make a low remark to his companions with an indescribably satisfied
kind of gesture, whereas the same calling on the left hand drew no notice
from them beyond a certain increased forward resolution and a stiff
ignoring of it.
The significance of these signs were lost on me at that time, but I was
to come to learn them well in my later dealings with these tribes. They
were omens and indicated success or failure to our hunting.
On the whole they were apparently favourable. At any rate, the pace
never slackened, and I was beginning to wish for a slowing down. As we
drew nearer the Turkwell Valley signs of elephant became more and more
numerous. Huge paths worn perfectly smooth and with their edges cut as
clear as those of garden walks by the huge pads of the ponderous animals
began to run together, forming more deeply worn ones converging towards
the drinking places on the river. Occasionally the beautiful lesser
koodoo stood watching us or loped away, flirting its white fluffed tail.
Once we passed a rhino standing motionless with snout ever directed
towards us. A small detour round him as we did not wish to get mixed up
with his sort and on again. Halt! The little line bunches up against the
motionless natives. A distant rumble resembling somewhat a cart crossing
a wooden bridge, and after a few seconds of silence the crash of a broken
tree.
Elephant! _Atome!_ (in Karamojo). Word the first to be learned and the
last to be forgotten of any native language. A kind of excitement seizes
us all; me most of all, the Karamojans least. Now the boys are told to
stay behind and to make no noise. They are at liberty to climb trees
if they like. I look to my ·303, but, of course, it had been ready for
hours. Noting that the wind—what there was of it—was favourable, the
natives and I go forward, and soon we come upon the broken trees, mimosa
and white thorn, the chewed fibrous balls of sansivera, the moist patches
with froth still on them, the still steaming and unoxidised spoor, and
the huge tracks with the heavily imprinted clear-cut corrugations of
a very recently passing bunch of bull elephants. In numbers they were
five as nearly as I could estimate. Tracking them was child’s play,
and I expected to see them at any moment. It was, however, much longer
than I anticipated before we sighted their dull grey hides. For they
were travelling as well as feeding. It is remarkable how much territory
elephant cover when thus feeding along. At first sight they seem to be so
leisurely, and it is not until one begins to keep in touch with them that
their speed is realised. Although they appear to take so few steps, each
step of their lowest gait is about 6 ft. Then, again, in this feeding
along there is _always_ at least one of the party moving forward at
about 3½ miles per hour, although the other members may be stopping and
feeding, then catching up again by extending the stride to 7 ft. or more.
As soon as they were in sight I got in front of the Karamojans and ran
in to about 20 yds. from the stern of the rearmost animal. Intense
excitement now had me with its usual signs, hard breathing through the
mouth, dry palate and an intense longing to shoot.
As I arrived at this close proximity I vividly remember glancing along
the grey bulging sides of the three rearmost animals, who all happened to
be in motion at the same time in single file, and remarking a tusk of an
incredible length and size sweeping out from the grey wall. I instantly
determined to try for this one first. With extraordinary precautions
against making a noise, and stoopings and contortions of the body, all
of which after-experience taught me were totally unnecessary, I got away
off at right-angles to the file of elephants and could now grasp the fact
that they were all very large and carried superb ivory.
I was now almost light-headed with excitement, and several times on
the very verge of firing a stupid and hasty shot from my jumping and
flickering rifle. So shaky was it when I once or twice put it to my
shoulder that even in my then state of mind I saw that no good could come
of it. After a minute or two, during which I was returning to a more
normal state, the animal with the largest tusks left the line slightly,
and slowly settled into a halt beside a mimosa bush. I got a clear
glimpse at his broadside at what looked about 20 yds., but was really
40 yds., and I fired for his heart. With a flinch, a squirm and a roar
he was soon in rapid motion straight away, with his companions in full
flight ahead of him. I was rather surprised at this headlong flight after
one shot as I had expected the elephant here to be more unsophisticated,
but hastily concluding that the Swahili traders must have been pumping
lead into them more often than one imagined, I legged it for the cloud of
dust where the fleeting animals had disappeared. Being clad in running
shorts and light shoes, it was not long before I almost ran slap up
against a huge and motionless grey stern. Recoiling very rapidly indeed
from this awe-inspiring sight, I saw on one side of it an enormous head
and tusk which appeared to stick out at right-angles. So drooping were
the trunk and ears and so motionless the whole appearance of what had
been a few seconds ago the very essence of power and activity that it was
borne straight to even my inexperienced mind that here was death. And so
it was, for as I stared goggle-eyed the mighty body began to sway from
side to side more and more, until with a crash it fell sideways, bearing
earthwards with it a fair sized tree. Straight past it I saw another
elephant, turned almost broadside, at about 100 yds. distance, evidently
listening and obviously on the point of flight. Running a little forward
so as to get a clear sight of the second beast, I sat quickly down and
fired carefully at the shoulder, when much the same performance took
place as in the first case, except that No. 2 came down to a slow walk
after a burst of speed instead of to a standstill as with No. 1.
Ranging rapidly alongside I quickly put him out of misery and tore after
the others which were, of course, by this time, thoroughly alarmed and in
full flight. After a mile or two of fast going I found myself pretty well
done, so I sat down and rolled myself a cigarette of the strong black
shag so commonly smoked by the Swahilis. Presently my native guides came
with every appearance of satisfaction on their now beaming faces.
After a few minutes’ rest we retracked the elephant back to where our two
lay dead. The tusks of the first one we examined were not long but very
thick, and the other had on one side a tusk broken some 2 ft. outside the
lip, while on the other was the magnificent tusk which had filled me with
wonder earlier on. It was almost faultless and beautifully curved. What a
shame that its companion was broken!
As we were cutting the tail off, which is always done to show anyone
finding the carcase that it has been killed and claimed, my good fellows
came up with the gear and the interpreter. Everyone, including myself,
was in high good humour, and when the Karamojans said that their village
was not far off we were more pleased than ever, especially as the sun was
sinking rapidly. After what appeared to the natives no doubt as a short
distance, but what seemed to my sore feet and tired legs a very long one,
we saw the welcome fires of a camp and were soon sitting by one while a
group of naked savages stood looking silently at the white man and his
preparations for eating and sleeping. These were simple enough. A kettle
was soon on the fire for tea, while some strips of sun-cured haartebeeste
biltong writhed and sizzled on the embers. Meanwhile my boys got the bed
ready by first of all cutting the grass and smoothing down the knobs of
the ground while another spread grass on it to form a mattress. Over this
the canvas sheet and blankets and with a bag of cartridges wrapped in a
coat for a pillow the bed was complete. Then two forked sticks stuck in
the ground close alongside the bed to hold the rifle and all was ready
for the night.
II.—IVORY AND THE RAIDERS
After a hearty supper of toasted biltong and native flour porridge,
washed down with tea, I cleaned my rifle, loaded it and lay down utterly
tired out and soon dropped off to the music of hyenas’ howling. As soon
as ever it was light enough to see, we left for the dead elephant, and
the way did not seem half so long in the fresh morning air as it had
appeared the evening before. We quickly arrived, followed by all the
villagers, men, women and children, every one in high spirits at the
sight of the mountains of meat. In this country the meat of elephants is
esteemed more highly than that of any other animal, as it contains much
more fat. The Karamojan elephants are distinguished for their bodily
size, the quality and size of their ivory and for the quantity of fat on
them.
I was anxious to get the tusks out as rapidly as possible in order
to rejoin my caravan, so I divided the Karamojans into two gangs and
explained to them that no one was to touch the carcases until the tusks
were out, but that then they could have all the meat. They set to with a
will to get all the skin and flesh off the head. It is necessary to do
this so as to expose the huge bone sockets containing the ends of the
tusks. About a third of their length is so embedded, and a very long,
tedious and hard job it is to get all the skin and gristle cut away.
Nothing blunts a knife more quickly than elephant hide, because of the
sand and grit in its loose texture.
When the skull is clean on one side the neck should be cut. This alone
is a herculean task. The vertebra severed, the head is turned over by
eight or ten men, and the other side similarly cleaned. When both sockets
are ready an axe is used to chop them away chip by chip until the tusk
is free. This chopping should always be done by an expert, as otherwise
large chips off the tusk itself are liable to be taken by the axe.
This chopping out of ivory is seldom resorted to by natives, requiring as
it does so much hard work. They prefer to leave the sun and putrefaction
to do the work for them. On the third day after the death the upper
tusk can usually be drawn without difficulty from the socket and the
underneath one on the following day.
On this particular occasion no one was at all adept at chopping out,
and it was hours before the tusks were freed. Later on my Wanzamwezi
boys became very expert indeed at this job, and twelve of them, whose
particular job it became, could handle as many as ten bull elephants in a
day provided they were not too distant one from the other and that they
had plenty of native assistance.
While the chopping out was going on I had leisure to watch the natives,
and what struck me first was the remarkable difference between the men
and the women. The former were tall, some of them quite 6 ft. 4 ins.,
slim and well made, while the latter were distinctly short, broad,
beefy and squat. The married ones wore aprons of dressed buckskin tied
round the waist by the legs of the skin and ornamented with coloured
beads sewn on with sinew thread. The unmarried girls wore no skins at
all and had merely a short fringe of black thread attached to a string
round the waist and falling down in front. As regards hair, all the
women wore it plaited and falling down all round the head and giving
somewhat the appearance of “bobbed” hair. Some of the men wore the most
extraordinary-looking periwigs made up of their own and also their
ancestors’ hair mixed with clay so as to form a kind of covering for the
top of the head and falling down the back of the neck. In this pad of
human felt were set neat little woven sockets in such a way as to hold
upright an ostrich feather in each.
The people with whom we are dealing at the moment were poor and therefore
hunters. Africans differ from us entirely on the question of hunting;
whereas among us it is the well-off who hunt, among them it is the poor.
Having nothing but a few goats and sheep, these hunters inhabit the bush,
shifting their village from site to site according to the movements of
the game.
Their system of taking game is the snare; their only weapon a spear. The
art of snaring has been brought to a unique development by these people,
for they have snares varying in size for all animals from elephant down
to dik-dik.
The snare for elephant is a great hawser, 4½ ins. in diameter, of twisted
antelope or giraffe hides. One may find in the same rope haartebeeste
hide, eland, zebra, rhinoceros, buffalo and giraffe hide. If made of
haartebeeste alone no less than eleven or twelve skins are required. The
skins are scraped and pounded with huge wooden mallets for weeks by the
women before being twisted or “laid” into the rope which is to form the
snare. The running nooses at both ends are beautifully made. Besides the
snare there is a thing like a cart wheel without any hub and with scores
of thin spokes meeting in the centre where their points are sharp. The
snare is laid in the following manner:
A well frequented elephant path is chosen and somewhere near the spot
decided upon for the snare a large tree is cut. Judgment in the choosing
of this must be exercised as if it is too heavy the snare will break, and
if too light the snared elephant will travel too far. A tree trunk which
ten or twelve men can just stagger along with seems to be the thing.
This log is then brought to the scene of action and at its smaller end a
deep groove is cut all round to take the noose at one end of the rope.
After this noose has been fitted and pulled and hammered tight—no easy
matter—the log is laid at right angles to the path with the smaller end
pointing towards it. A hole a good bit larger than an elephant’s foot is
then dug in the path itself to a depth of two feet or so. Over this hole
is fitted the cart wheel. Round the rim the large noose of the snare is
laid and the whole covered carefully over with earth to resemble the path
again. The snare is now laid, and if all goes well some solitary old bull
comes wandering along at night, places his foot on the earth borne by
the sharp spokes of the hubless wheel, goes through as the spokes open
downwards, lifts his foot and with it the wheel bearing the noose well
up the ankle, strides forward and tightens the noose. The more he pulls
the tighter draws the noose until the log at the other end of the snare
begins to move. Now alarmed and presently angry, he soon gets rid of the
cart wheel, but as its work is already done, that does not matter. The
dragging log is now securely attached to the elephant’s leg, and it is
seldom that he gets rid of it unless it should jamb in rocks or trees.
Soon he becomes thoroughly alarmed and sets off at a great pace, the log
ploughing along behind him. Should a strong, vigorous young bull become
attached to a rather light log, he may go twenty or thirty miles.
As soon as it becomes known to the natives that an elephant has been
caught, everyone within miles immediately seizes all his spears and
rushes to the spot where the snare had been set and from there eagerly
takes up the trail of the log. When they come up with the somewhat
exhausted animal they spear it to death. Then every scrap of meat is
shared among the village which owns the snare, the tusks becoming
the property of the man who made and laid the snare. The spearing of
an elephant, with its enormously thick hide, is no easy matter, as
the animal can still make short active rushes. Casualties are not
infrequent, and should anyone be caught he is, as a rule, almost certain
to be killed.
[Illustration: POOR KARAMOJANS, SHOWING PERIWIGS.]
[Illustration: CARRYING THE IVORY.]