[Illustration:
_Photo aquatinte Boussod Valadon & C^o._
]
THE
KILIMA-NJARO EXPEDITION.
_A RECORD OF SCIENTIFIC EXPLORATION IN EASTERN EQUATORIAL AFRICA._
AND A
GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NATURAL HISTORY, LANGUAGES, AND COMMERCE OF
THE KILIMA-NJARO DISTRICT.
BY
H. H. JOHNSTON, F.Z.S., F.R.G.S.
MEMB. ANTHROP. INSTITUTE, ETC.; LEADER OF THE EXPEDITION, AUTHOR OF
“THE RIVER CONGO FROM ITS MOUTH TO BÓLÓBÓ.”
WITH SIX MAPS AND OVER EIGHTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR.
[Illustration: An illustration of three condors in flight against a
plain, light-colored background. The birds are rendered in a detailed,
vintage pen-and-ink sketching style with heavy cross-hatching. They are
positioned at different angles: one at the top left soaring downward,
one in the middle glidng toward the viewer, and one at the bottom banked
to the side, showing the distinctive white patches on their wings and
necks.]
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, AND CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
1886.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
[_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._]
TO
SIR JOHN KIRK, K.C.M.G., M.D., ETC.,
TRAVELLER, BOTANIST, DIPLOMATIST, AND GUARDIAN OF BRITISH INTERESTS AT
ZANZIBAR,
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BY THE AUTHOR.
[Illustration: Black-and-white line illustration of Mount Kilimanjaro,
showing a snow-capped peak rising above rolling, textured hills with
fine cross-hatched shading.]
Hail to thee, monarch of African mountains!
Remote, inaccessible, silent, and lone—
Who from the heart of the tropical fervours
Liftest to heaven thine alien snows.
· · · · ·
I see thee supreme in the midst of thy co-mates.
Standing alone, ’twixt the earth and the heavens,
Heir of the Sunset and Herald of Morn,
Zone above zone, to thy snow-crested summits
The climates of Earth are displayed, as an index,
Giving the scope of the Book of Creation.
There, in the gorges that widen, descending
From cloud and from cold into summer eternal,
Gather the threads of the ice-gendered fountains—
Gather to riotous torrents of crystal,
And, giving each shelvy recess where they dally,
The blooms of the North and its evergreen turfage,
Leap to the land of the lion and lotus!
· · · · ·
Sovereign mountain, thy brothers give welcome:
Mont Blanc, in the roar of his mad avalanches,
Hails thy accession; superb Orizaba,
Belted with beech and ensandalled with palm;
Chimborazo, the lord of the regions of noonday;—
Mingle their sounds in magnificent chorus.
They, the baptized and the crownèd of ages,
Watch-towers of continents, altars of Earth,
Welcome thee now to their mighty assembly.
· · · · ·
None has a claim to the honours of story,
Or the superior splendours of song,
Greater than thou, in thy mystery mantled—
Thou the sole monarch of African mountains.
Take, then, a name, and be filled with existence,
Yea, be exultant in sovereign glory,
While from the hand of the wandering poet
Drops the first garland of song at thy feet.
· · · · ·
“KILIMA-NJARO,” a poem by BAYARD TAYLOR, _circa_ 1855.
PREFACE.
As the Kilima-njaro Expedition was initiated and supported by two of the
most important among our British Scientific Societies, it may perhaps
seem excusable that I, who was its appointed leader, should venture to
lay the general results of this enterprise before the public.
I do so only in the sincere desire to contribute, however feebly, to the
mounting sum of our knowledge of Africa—that continent, which I look
upon as the New World of the nineteenth century.
I cannot conclude these few prefatory lines without most heartily
thanking every friend or chance acquaintance who by word or deed
facilitated my task. It is pleasant to look back upon this expedition as
having been provocative of nothing but kindness.
While the names of certain of my benefactors are mentioned elsewhere in
the pages of this work in juxtaposition with their good deeds, I think
this the most fitting place in which to record my special sense of
obligation to Philip Lutley Sclater, Esq., Ph. D., Sec. Zoological
Society; Edward L. Lawson, Esq.; Edwin Arnold, Esq., C.S.I.; Carmichael
Thomas, Esq.; and, with all his faults, Mandara, Chief of Moši; who,
though he once threatened to cut off my head, nevertheless in his
brighter moods supplied me with much valuable information.
H. H. JOHNSTON.
LONDON, _November, 1885_.
NOTE TO THE READER.
In the orthography of most African words and proper names in this book,
especially in those which are written for the first time, I have
followed what seems to me the simplest and most satisfactory phonetic
system—that of Dr. Lepsius’ standard alphabet.
As this may be new to some of my readers, I may mention here that the
vowels are generally pronounced as in Italian, viz.:—
a = ah; e = eh; i = ee; o = oh; ô = aw; u = oo.
In diphthongs, the sound of each vowel may be distinctly heard, as ai =
ah-ee; ou = oh-oo.
Those consonants which differ in look from the Roman character, are—
Č, pron. ch; ǰ, pron. as an English j; ṅ, pron. ng’; š, pron. sh; and
others, which are of less frequent occurrence, are explained fully in
Chapter XX.
As frequently recurring examples of this orthography, I may instance,—
“Čaga” —pronounced “Chaga;”
“Moši” „ “Moshy;” and
“ǰipé” „ “Jeepay.”
I have only diverged from this system where the proper names from long
use have accustomed us to other spelling. Thus I write “Galla,” although
properly it should be “Gala,” and I have even avoided disfiguring the
“j” of “Kilima-njaro” with a ^v; although I fear the result of this
lenity will be that half my readers will pronounce it wrongly. To avoid
this I may, perhaps, for the benefit of the timid who always shirk
African names, write its exact pronunciation in our clumsy English
orthography.
This would be:
Killy-manjāhro.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 1
CHAPTER II.
SIR JOHN KIRK AT HOME 17
CHAPTER III.
THE START—MOMBASA TO TAITA 40
CHAPTER IV.
TAITA TO KILIMA-NJARO 64
CHAPTER V.
ARRIVAL AT MANDARA’S COURT 94
CHAPTER VI.
MY FIRST SETTLEMENT ON KILIMA-NJARO 114
CHAPTER VII.
“HALCYON DAYS” 142
CHAPTER VIII.
TROUBLOUS TIMES 164
CHAPTER IX.
AN ANXIOUS PERIOD 184
CHAPTER X.
A TRIP TO TAVEITA 204
CHAPTER XI.
A FIRST ASCENT 229
CHAPTER XII.
A MOVE TO MARAṄU 243
CHAPTER XIII.
A SECOND ASCENT 259
CHAPTER XIV.
THROUGH THE FORESTS OF KIMAWENZI AND THE COUNTRY OF ROMBO 281
CHAPTER XV.
LAKE J̌IPÉ AND THE ROAD TO GONJ̌A 296
CHAPTER XVI.
GONJ̌A TO LONDON 309
CHAPTER XVII.
CLIMATE, GEOLOGY, BOTANY, &C. 322
CHAPTER XVIII.
ZOOLOGY 350
CHAPTER XIX.
ANTHROPOLOGY 395
CHAPTER XX.
THE LANGUAGES OF THE KILIMA-NJARO DISTRICT 446
(_a_) Masai.
Appendix 1. Comparative vocabulary of the Masai
language.
(_b_) The Bantu languages of Kilima-njaro Appendix 2.
Vocabularies of Ki-čaga, Ki-taveita, Ki-gweno, &c.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE COMMERCIAL PROSPECTS OF EASTERN EQUATORIAL AFRICA 535
LIST
OF
MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
MAPS.
NO. PAGE
1. General Map of East Equatorial Africa _to face_ 1
2. Route to Kilima-njaro 16
3. Kilima-njaro to the Coast (valley of the Ruvu) _to face_ 296
4. Masai languages _to face_ 446
5. Map of Bantu languages 479
6. Kilima-njaro and its vicinity (Proc. R.G.S.) _the end_
ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG.
Portrait of the Author _Frontispiece_
1. Sir John Kirk 17
2. Sir John Kirk at home _to face_ 21
3. Mtépé (with mat sail) 22
4. Small mtépé and outrigger canoe 23
5. A corridor in Sir John Kirk’s house _to face_ 25
6. Arab dau 26
7. Fishing boat and outrigger canoe 26
8. A Saracenic doorway 27
9. Zanzibar Harbour from the Consulate _to face_ 29
10. A view over the house-tops 28
11. Zanzibar orchids 33
12. Kigelia Africana 34
13. A street in Zanzibar 36
14. The bay of Mbwéni _to face_ 38
15. _Colobus Kirkii_ 39
16. Mombasa _to face_ 42
17. The Shaws’ house, Kisolutini; the first mission
station in East Africa 47
18. Virapan, my Tamil servant 62
19. Antelopes and ant-hills (the red hartebeest) _to face_ 65
20. Zebras 67
21. The first view of Kilima-njaro _to face_ 71
22. Sable antelope 69
23. The strange creeper 82
24. The River Habari 83
25. Trees with honey-boxes 92
26. Mandara’s left ear 107
27. View of Mandara’s village from Kitimbiriu _to face_ 119
28. Head and shoulders of our cow 121
29. A view towards Mačame 124
30. A view towards Ugweno 125
31. Mount Méru 126
32. A kite 128
33. Kibô in the early morning _to face_ 136
34. A native dam 137
35. “Kitimbiriu” (our first settlement on Kilima-njaro) 138
36. A corner of our settlement _to face_ 143
37. Clematis and hibiscus 147
38. A ravine in Moši 150
39. Kilima-njaro seen from above Moši (“palms and
snow”) _to face_ 152
40. Mkindu palm (_Phœnix_ sp.) 153
41. Čaga doorway 157
42. Čaga storehouse and dwelling 158
43. The captive 159
44. A soldier of Mandara’s 195
45. The Mkuyuni Stream 207
46. Vulturine attitudes 217
47. The Mpala antelope (_Æpyceros melampus_) 219
48. The Game country _to face_ 220
49. Female Roan antelope (_Hippotragus equinus_, ♀︎) 224
50. My settlement at Taveita 227
51. Tree fern (_Lonchitis pubescens_) 231
52. Kilima-njaro, showing both its snow-capped peaks _to face_ 234
53. Raven soaring 235
54. Kibô cloud-capped 258
55. Kimawenzi 265
56. _Senecio Johnstoni_ 268
57. Curious rocks, marked like a tortoise-shell 270
58. Great-billed ravens 271
59. The dome of Kibô from an altitude of 11,000 feet 278
60. Lake Čala 291
61. Kilima-njaro seen from Lake ǰipé _to face_ 298
62. Masai camp 305
63. _Musa Ensete_, a wild banana 331
64. (_a_) Bunch of fruit of _M. Ensete_; (_b_) Single
fruit, half natural size 333
65. Branching borassus palm 349
66. _Neotragus Kirkii_ 355
67. Head of great-billed raven (_Corvultur albicollis_) 356
68. The Dying hornbill 357
69. (_a_) The right _manus_ or wing of young ostrich.
(_b_) Scale feathers of young ostrich 360
70. Varanus lizards 362
71. A fish from the River Lumi 363
72. _Colobus Guereza_, var. _caudatus_. From the
“Proceedings of the Zoological Society” 389
73. _Graphiurus capensis_; (_a_) foot, (_b_) hand 392
74. A Masai warrior 415
75. Men of Taveita making fire 435
76. A Čaga forge 439
77. Čaga utensils: 1. Wooden hoe. 2. Leather
honey-case. 3. Gourd. 4. Wooden tray or dish. 5.
Club made from rhinoceros’ horn. 6. Knife 441
78. Čaga house 444
[Illustration:
_H.H. Johnston, del._ _Weller._
]
THE KILIMA-NJARO EXPEDITION.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
Kilima-njaro[1] is the name currently given to a huge mountain-mass in
Eastern Africa, consisting of two giant peaks and many lesser ones,
situated below the third parallel south of the Equator, and at a
distance, in a straight line, of about 175 miles from the coast. The
highest of the two principal summits—Kibô—reaches an elevation 18,880
feet above the sea, and the lesser peak—Kimawenzi—attains to 16,250
feet. Both ascend above the snow-line, no other point in the same clump
of mountains doing so, and both are the craters of extinct volcanoes.
The entire mass of Kilima-njaro seems to be due to volcanic upheaval,
and it was doubtless at one time, and that geologically recent, the
great vent of the volcanic forces of Eastern Equatorial Africa, which
are still active in regions further to the north or west in the district
lying between the Victoria Nyanza and the Indian Ocean.
Kilima-njaro, ever since its existence was positively known to modern
geographers, has been claimed as the highest of African mountains, its
chief summit reaching an altitude of nearly 19,000 feet. It is just
possible that in the unknown region stretching between the Victoria
Nyanza and Abyssinia loftier peaks may be discovered, or that Mount
Kenia, which lies about 200 miles due north of Kilima-njaro, may be
found after accurate measurement to exceed the height of the latter
mountain by a few feet, but until this is done, the geography-books may
still continue to put forward Kilima-njaro as the highest peak in
Africa. Indeed, this they are likely to do for the next decade or so,
whether he is superseded or not, for I have remarked that in all
geographical questions, physical or political, it takes a sadly long
time for increase of knowledge to penetrate the school manuals used in
the instruction of the British youth. They always seem separated from
the progress of discovery as the fixed stars are separated from our
powers of vision. Just as the rays of light now reaching us from Sirius
would be found illustrating a condition of things going on many years
ago, so in most of the school geography-books, geographical knowledge is
reflected a decade or so in arrears. I _think_ in most of them France is
now deprived of Alsace and Lorraine, and the territorial unity of Italy
is a _fait accompli_; but I fancy the Congo is as yet undiscovered, and
Turkey in Europe still extends its suzerainty over “the Danubian
Principalities,” Servia, Bulgaria, and Montenegro. I took up one of
these school class-books the other day and found that Mount Miltsin
(12,000 odd feet) in Morocco was the highest known peak in Africa.
Doubtless next year, in a later edition, the claims of Kilima-njaro will
be considered, and just as these receive a tardy recognition, some
adventurous traveller will bring to our knowledge another African Alp of
mightier proportions and loftier summit destined to oust from his proud
position the object of my recent journey, who, displaced from the homage
of the eager geographer, must be content to linger still a few years
longer in possession of the vague respect of the British schoolboy.
Although the mass of Kilima-njaro rises rather abruptly from a fairly
level plain, it is hardly to be called isolated, and indeed it may be
said that an almost continuous chain of mountain-ranges and independent
peaks connect it with Abyssinia on the north, Natal on the south, and,
possibly, also with the Cameroons on the west. Judged by the flora which
clothes its higher regions, it may be almost regarded as the common
meeting-ground of many forms peculiarly characteristic of these three
widely separated mountain-districts.
To ascertain the relationships of the fauna and flora of Kilima-njaro,
two learned societies—the British Association for the Advancement of
Science and the Royal Society—at the instigation, I believe, of Mr.
Sclater, the Secretary of the Zoological Society of London, delegated
certain of their members to form a Kilima-njaro Expedition Committee,
and funds to the extent of 1000_l._ were placed at their disposal. The
great height attained by Kilima-njaro, and the fact that this snow-clad
mountain-mass lies in the Equatorial zone, and exhibits an extraordinary
range of climates on its broad slopes, were thought sufficient causes to
give rise to or explain many curious features in its fauna and flora;
moreover, a like condition of things—perpetual snow under the
Equator—was only to be met with elsewhere in Central and South America,
no mountains in other parts of the tropics reaching to the snow-line. In
all cases lofty ranges lying in little-known regions are interesting to
students of natural history. Isolated mountains of great height are
often like oceanic islands, and serve as a refuge and a last
abiding-place for low types or peculiar forms, which in larger and more
densely-populated areas find the competition too keen, and are
extinguished in the struggle for life. Or, it may be, some species or
genus, originally of a generalized type, becomes by various
circumstances the inhabitant of an alpine range or a sea-girt island,
and being thus removed and protected from the natural checks to its
peculiar development offered by the contemporaneous evolution of its
fellows, may, as it were, run riot in the absence of rivalry, and assume
very eccentric and singular forms. Thus we can imagine that a pigeon
something like the modern didunculus of the South Sea Islands once
arrived in Mauritius, having perhaps hitherto had to contend with the
usual dangers which naturally menace the existence of a meek-spirited,
plump bird that is good to eat. But this pigeon, either chancing on
Mauritius in the course of its long flights, or dwelling on the island
at a date when its connection with a pre-existing continent was being
severed, found itself in singularly favourable circumstances, plenty to
eat and nothing to attack it—no animals of prey being left on the
island. So in the course of time, no longer obliged to fly from foes or
take long journeys in search of food, this pigeon became a dodo, huge,
fat, and inert, with atrophied and useless pinions. Again, on the
mountain-ranges of Sumatra, of Japan, of North America, also on the Alps
of Europe, dwell queer, old-fashioned ruminants—goat-antelopes,
capricorns, chamois—which would have long since perished in the fierce,
hustling life of the plains, or more probably have become moulded into
some advanced and perfected type, like the great ruminants of the
lowlands. There were these possibilities of zoology to encourage
exploration; and another interesting feature in the fauna and flora of
high mountains is that they often retain vestiges of an older nature,
that has long since been supplanted in lower levels by a new reign. In
this way Kini Balu, the lofty mountain of Borneo, preserves on its upper
slopes an Australian flora long since superseded in the plains below by
the vegetation of India. On the Alps reappear the butterflies of Arctic
Europe. The Abyssinian mountains can show genera and species of animals
and plants from temperate countries north and south, from Europe and the
Cape of Good Hope, and consequently the question as to the relations of
the fauna and flora of Kilima-njaro, the highest mountain known in
Africa, with that of other regions, was one of great interest, and one
which, however decided, might solve many curious puzzles as to the
geographical distribution of living forms.
If we should discover around the snows of this huge mass of extinct
volcanoes the gentians and edelweiss of the Alps, or even other
semi-Arctic forms, these would arouse a supposition that during some
past glacial epoch the frigid North had sent its children into Central
Africa, following the ice and snow. Or should we find, as we ascended
Kilima-njaro, the birds, beetles, butterflies, and plants of the Cape of
Good Hope, or even the antique types of Madagascar, this might show that
the clump of snow mountains had served as one of the last footholds of
the older autochthonous African nature, which was dispossessed and
driven into distant islands and remote corners of the continent by
recent inroads of the lustier things of Europe; by the advent of the
apes, and lions, and huge herbivora, which scattered and extinguished
the feeble lemurs, insectivores, and edentates that heretofore
prevailed. It might also be, in a lesser way, with man as it had been
with lower forms of life, that the fastnesses of Kilima-njaro should
prove the shelter of some poor type, some human relic of a race long
passed away, whose speech, whose handicraft, whose superstitions would
arouse new problems for the anthropologist, or serve as a happy link to
strengthen imperfect chains of evidence.
Questions like these, which the existence of snow-clad mountains in
Central Africa inevitably suggested, were of sufficient importance to
warrant the despatch of an expedition, which should obtain information
and material to aid in their solution; and at one time it was proposed
that Mr. Joseph Thomson should endeavour to combine with his journey
across the Masai country (since so splendidly carried out) a prolonged
journey on Kilima-njaro, and a consequent investigation of its fauna and
flora. But for many reasons this plan had to be abandoned, and the
British Association and Royal Society combined to organize a separate
expedition, with the command of which I was entrusted some months after
my return from the River Congo.
Kilima-njaro is supposed to have been vaguely known to the Portuguese as
early as the sixteenth century, and inasmuch as these people held
Mombasa for nearly 200 years, and Mombasa lies within 180 miles of the
mountain, and is the point of departure and return of many Swahili and
Arab trading parties, who visit the base of the snow peaks, it would
indeed be curious if no rumours of the existence of such a mighty object
of wonder ever reached the ears of the Portuguese.
Enciso,[2] a Spanish writer of the sixteenth century, mentions its
existence, and calls it “Mount Olympus.” Others have supposed that the
legendary Mountains of the Moon had their basis of actual existence in
Kilima-njaro; however this may be, putting aside vague rumours which in
this case had a just foundation and in many other cases had no
foundation at all, the first European who discovered Kilima-njaro and
made its existence known to the civilized world, was Rebmann, a German
missionary, who, wandering inland from Mombasa, first descried the
wonderful snowy dome of Kibô, the highest summit of the mass, on the
11th of May, 1848. Being a simple-minded man, and overawed by the
unexpected beauty and majesty of the spectacle which the distant
snow-clad summit offered as it rose from a base of sombre forest into
the clear blue sky, he fell on his knees and recited the 111th Psalm,
seeming almost to think that a little pimple on the surface of our tiny
planet was one of the chief and most glorious productions of the
Creator. Rebmann had the good fortune to alight on Kilima-njaro in times
of peace before the Arab traders and the slave trade had brought the
curse of internecine war to the industrious and thrifty agriculturists
who inhabited the fertile mountain-slopes. He consequently wandered
about freely, through most of the little Čaga[3] states, with a small
following of some ten porters and but little baggage. On his return to
the coast he communicated his discovery to Krapf, who shortly afterwards
started himself for the interior, and discovered Mount Kenia, but only
saw Kilima-njaro from a distance of forty miles. The results of these
two remarkable expeditions were modestly made known to the geographical
societies of Europe, but in Paris alone did the discovery of Kenia and
Kilima-njaro meet with any practical recognition. The silver medal of
the Geographical Society in that city was awarded to Messrs. Krapf and
Rebmann, for making known the existence of snow-clad mountains in
Eastern Equatorial Africa.
In England the missionaries’ information was greatly discredited,
because they had not been able to map out their journeys by observations
for latitude and longitude, and could only fix the position of the
mountains, of which they alleged the existence, by dead reckoning. As a
matter of fact, they placed them with wonderful accuracy, considering
the rough methods employed, and subsequent discoveries have corroborated
their statements. Krapf only saw Mount Kenia from a distance of over
forty miles, and Rebmann probably approached no nearer than fifteen
miles to the snows of Kilima-njaro. Both could only asseverate that they
had _seen_ snow, and both were accused of being deceived by their vivid
imaginations. Their most relentless critic was a redoubtable person, for
long years a terror to real explorers, Mr. Desborough Cooley, a kind of
geographical ogre, who used to sit in his study in England, shaping and
planning out the map of Africa (basing his arrangements of rivers,
lakes, and mountains on ridiculous and fantastic linguistic coincidences
and resemblances of his own imagination), and who rushed out and tore in
pieces all unheeding explorers in the field who brought to light actual
facts which upset his elaborate geographical schemes. Mr. Cooley proved
in the most exhaustive and conclusive manner, that Messrs. Krapf and
Rebmann could _not_ have seen mountains capped with perpetual snow in
Equatorial Africa, and, _ergo_, they did not exist.
However, Nature and Truth are relentless. They will not stifle or modify
their accomplished facts to please any one. You would have thought that
after the beautiful and logical manner in which Mr. Cooley had set forth
that snow-clad mountains could _not_ exist near the Equator (I suppose
he forgot those of America), that Nature would have felt ashamed of
producing anything unnatural and would have backed up Mr. Cooley’s
statements by whipping Kilima-njaro and Kenia off the land of Africa
before any adventurous explorer could conclusively prove their
existence. But no; after an interval[4] of about ten years, in 1861,
Baron von der Decken, a Hanoverian, went to Kilima-njaro and stayed
there from the end of July to the beginning of September, and was able
entirely to corroborate the statements of the much-maligned Rebmann.
He was not able to ascend higher than 8000 feet, but on a succeeding
visit in December, 1862, he attained an altitude of 10,500 feet,
although on neither occasion did he approach anywhere near the snow. He
made, however, an admirable survey of the whole southern slope of the
mountain, which is still and has been our chief authority for the
delineation of Kilima-njaro on the map. His researches were rather added
to than superseded by the journeys of Thomson and myself. Von der Decken
calculated the height of the two great peaks, Kibô and Kimawenzi, and
considerably reduced the exaggerated estimate of their respective
altitudes. He, however, erred slightly in under-estimating the height of
Kibô, which he gives as only 18,700. My own observations make it 18,800,
and Thomson gives it as 18,880. Von der Decken (still traditionally
known on the mountain as the “Baroni”) received the gold medal of the
Royal Geographical Society for his careful surveys of Kilima-njaro and
its vicinity.
In 1871, the Rev. Charles New, a missionary, who had been sent out to
East Africa by the United Methodist Free Church Mission, made a journey
to Moši, in Čaga, and thence ascended Kilima-njaro to the verge of the
snow, reaching an altitude of about 14,500 feet. He spent the month of
August on the mountain, but did not go over much new ground. Encouraged
by his pleasant experiences during this trip and filled with a craving
for further exploits in the same field of fascinating mystery, he
returned to Čaga two years later, with the intention of pursuing his
investigations. But this time his former host, Mandara, chief of Moši,
disappointed in the quantity and quality of the presents brought to him
by Mr. New, robbed the explorer of nearly all he possessed, including
his gold chronometer (given him by the Royal Geographical Society) and
his silver aneroid. Then poor New, broken-hearted, and sick with anxiety
and fatigue, turned his steps towards the coast, and died ere he reached
Mombasa. I have an impression from what Mandara himself has told me,
that his animosity and rapacity were aroused with respect to New by the
latter’s too vehement and perhaps injudicious harangues against slavery.
Mandara declared that Mr. New had incited openly his subjects to rebel
against him, but this I think highly improbable. It is possible that the
missionary inveighed against slavery in such a way that Mandara dreaded
lest his utterances should have the effect of arousing his serfs to a
wish for freedom, and that he therefore robbed him and cast him out of
his kingdom. This view of the case is supported by the accounts given by
an old friend of New’s, Kapitau, an intelligent and pleasant-mannered
coast trader, with whom I have had much conversation. This man retains
an earnest respect for the missionary, and accuses Mandara of having
wished to poison him.
After New’s death, Kilima-njaro remained unvisited until quite recently,
when, in 1883, Mr. Joseph Thomson arrived there, on his journey across
Masai-land. He also visited Mandara, and was also robbed by that
rapacious chieftain. Starting from Moši he ascended to an altitude of
nearly 9000 feet, made a small collection of plants, and pursued his
journeys, which ultimately led him nearly all round the base of the
mountain. Mr. Thomson was the first who saw the northern aspects of
Kilima-njaro.
I might also mention that Dr. Fischer, a German traveller, passed within
some thirty miles of Kilima-njaro a little while before Mr. Thomson. He
subsequently penetrated Masai-land as far as Lake Naivaša.
All these above-mentioned travellers had paid visits of a more or less
fleeting character to Kilima-njaro, and few had studied in any way its
natural history, or had attempted to make collections of any importance.
Von der Decken brought back some beetles and one or two plants. New
gathered and sent home a few specimens of the flora growing on the upper
slopes. Dr. Fischer introduced us to a new Touraco[5] dwelling in the
vicinity of the mountain, and Thomson in his hurried ascent procured
some twenty plants, nearly all of which were new to science. But in the
main little of the flora or fauna of Kilima-njaro had been made known,
and the object of my mission was to make collections which would
materially aid us in settling the relations which this clump of
mountains bore to other lofty African ranges in its peculiar forms of
life. The Kilima-njaro Committee, taking into consideration the peculiar
difficulties of African travel, hesitated to send out on this expedition
any one who, though a trained naturalist, should yet have had no
previous experience of the climate and mode of life in the dark
continent; and although I professed little skill or capacity in natural
history collecting (for you may be enthusiastically fond of the study of
botany and zoology, and yet be a very poor taxidermist or herbalist), it
was thought that my acquaintance with the difficulties of African
expedition and the exigencies of travel in a barbarous country would
enable me to conduct the expedition to Kilima-njaro with some chance of
success. Unfortunately the sum of 1000_l._ placed at my disposal,
although sufficient with due economy to meet the ordinary expenses of
the expedition, would not permit of European collectors being taken, the
cost of the passage-money, salary, and keep of two men amounting to
nearly half the sum already mentioned. However, this difficulty did not
much concern me at the time, as one or two collectors were promised from
the Calcutta Botanical Gardens, whose expenses would have been defrayed
by their employers in return for a set of specimens collected. But on
arriving at Zanzibar I was disappointed of their aid, for it was found
at the last moment impossible to induce any Indian collectors to join an
expedition to Central Africa. Consequently I had to depend on the chance
aid of such natives of Zanzibar accompanying my caravan as might evince
any taste for a collector’s duties. Sir John Kirk, indeed, procured for
me two men who had been with Dr. Fischer during his recent expedition,
and who had an elementary knowledge of drying plants and skinning birds;
but these men, on account of their superior attainments, were so
exacting and difficult to deal with, that when they deserted me soon
after my arrival on the mountain and went to a neighbouring chief to
organize his slave-trading caravans, I did not miss them keenly.
Nevertheless, after this, the entire charge of collecting fell upon me,
adding to the already existing and by no means perfunctory cares of
superintending the expedition. I not only had to conduct long and
wearisome palavers with native chiefs, and talk them into acquiescence
with my plans, I not only had to show the men how to build houses, where
to construct roads and bridges, and lay out plantations, but I must also
shoot and skin birds, gather and press plants, collect beetles, and
catch butterflies. In a moist climate like that of Kilima-njaro the
labour involved in making good botanical collections alone was very
great, and in all this I had no help. My Zanzibar porters, although
excellent, hardworking, faithful fellows, evinced no aptitude whatever
for natural history collecting. In spite of my repeated and painstaking
instructions, they _would_ bring me flowers without leaves, and leaves
without flowers. They preferred catching butterflies with their fingers
to using a net, and thought that an insect in fragments was quite as
satisfactory as a whole specimen. In short I found that if any work was
to be of use in collecting, it must proceed solely from my own efforts.
I merely mention these difficulties so that my readers may properly
appreciate the character of the task I was called on to perform.
The instructions given me by the Kilima-njaro Committee were to proceed
direct to Mount Kilima-njaro, reside in the vicinity of the mountain for
at least six months, and collect as much as possible near the snow-line.
As already mentioned, funds to the extent of 1000_l._ were granted me,
and besides that, the Royal Geographical Society generously provided me
with a complete set of instruments for making astronomical and
meteorological observations. I ought also to mention that Messrs. Howard
and Son made me a most liberal present of quinine, an item of the outfit
which would have amounted under ordinary circumstances to a considerable
expense, and other leading purveyors treated me with great generosity,
so that I was altogether most kindly supported in my undertaking. Having
previously despatched my heavy luggage by British India steamship, I
left London in the beginning of March, 1884, and travelled overland to
Egypt, spent a week or two rambling about the highways and byeways of
that unhappy land, joined my steamer at Suez, and quitted her at Aden
with heartfelt joy, after a horribly uncomfortable voyage of eight days.
At Aden I had a delightful experience of what British hospitality can do
to cast a halo round the most unattractive spots. At the house of the
Resident and Governor, General Blair, V.C., I spent a most enjoyable
interval whilst awaiting the Zanzibar steamer.
I somewhat dreaded the advent of this vessel, for after my experience of
cockroaches, rats, bad smells, and bad food in the steamer which had
carried me to Aden, I anticipated a renewal of this purgatory on board
the steamship of the same company which was to complete the journey to
Zanzibar. But this was fortunately not the case. The _Java_, though an
old-fashioned and not too speedy boat, was scrupulously clean, and her
staff of officers were all that could be desired in kindness and skill.
The fare was excellent, the weather perfect, the fellow-passengers few
and agreeable; and our journey to Zanzibar was more like a trip on a
friend’s yacht. We stopped at Lamu, and lunched with Lieutenant Haggard,
her Britannic Majesty’s vice-consul, and then at Mombasa, where I went
off for a lengthy conference with Captain Gissing, our vice-consul at
that port, who was already kindly interesting himself in the equipment
of my expedition, and engaging porters from the vicinity of that place
to accompany me, for it was considered best by Sir John Kirk that I
should start from Mombasa for Kilima-njaro. After my first brief visit
to the place, however, I continued on my way to Zanzibar, to confer with
Sir John Kirk, and to engage a certain number of men. Accordingly, one
day in the middle of April, 1884, I awoke in the early sunshine, and
looked forth on a crescent of white buildings rising above an irregular
line of black shipping and black mud, and later on in the day landed at
Zanzibar, and found myself in that busy mart of East African trade,
whence so many expeditions and explorers have started for the conquest
of Africa’s secrets. Here I was soon enjoying the kind hospitality of
Sir John Kirk, and feeling in the contemplation of the strange, varied
life around me that the first chapter of my experiences in East Africa
had pleasantly begun.
[Illustration:
Map 2.—Route to Kilima-njaro.
]