“TROUBLOUS TIMES.”
Hitherto I had lived like Robinson Crusoe, in happy ignorance of savage
and hostile neighbours. The only possible things of harm that I could
have anticipated in my lonely rambles would have been a crafty leopard,
pouncing on me from an overhanging bough, or the sudden onrush of a
solitary buffalo. But now I was metaphorically and actually to see the
footprints of my human foes imprinted in my favourite haunts. Whereas
before my rambles on the mountains had been merely bounded by the short
leisure time at my disposal, they were now to be circumscribed by the
ring of warlike enemies that surrounded us. I have already explained to
you the reason I selected Mandara’s kingdom as my base of operations on
Kilima-njaro. It was usually supposed, before my journey took place,
that he was the paramount ruler of the mountain states, and it was
thought that if I placed myself under Mandara’s protection I might range
free and undisturbed over the whole of this African Switzerland. In
this, however, a great mistake was made, because Mandara ruled over a
relatively small tract of land, and only up to 6000 feet in altitude. He
did _not_ command the shortest or any route to the higher regions near
the snow-peaks; and being at constant war with his neighbours, and his
little kingdom in a continued state of blockade, his protection, as far
as it influenced a peaceful residence on the upper slopes of the
mountain, was worse than useless. Unfortunately, too, Mandara had made
immediate use of the two or three barrels of gunpowder I had innocently
given him, and had further availed himself of the moral support which my
presence at his court afforded to wage a rash and unprovoked war on his
neighbours, and to rob them in various well-planned raids of their wives
and cattle, adding the latter to his herds and the former to his harem,
and checking their enraged pursuits with the lofty threats that, if they
dared to infringe the territory of Moši, “his” white man would pickle
them alive. Consequently, while I was so tranquilly and innocently
pursuing my quiet avocations, skinning birds, drying plants, building
houses, and cutting roads amid the ferny glades around my growing
settlement, far from the turmoil of war, and unconscious of the
perpetration of ill deeds, the unhappy people of Kirua, Kibôšo, and
Maraṅu were connecting the loss of their womankind and cows with my
advent in Čaga, and naturally vowing me a life-long hatred. In the
meantime my porters were returning from Taita with the rest of my goods,
and in due time approached the base of the mountain. As they journeyed
tranquilly one afternoon towards the frontier of Moši, and were
congratulating themselves that a short march the next day would bring
them to my settlement, their leader descried in the distance a body of
men moving cautiously amongst the brushwood. Fearing lest they were
Masai, he immediately made a forward rush for a camping-place close at
hand—in fact, the very same site, a little peninsula nearly surrounded
by a rivulet, where on the former journey lions had besieged us, as
described in Chapter IV. The noise of their quick movement attracted the
notice of the band of savages, who were evidently watching for the
passage of my men, and they ran hastily towards the river to intercept
the latter, thinking they were going to cross; but on arriving there
they found the twenty Zanzibaris drawn up on the “almost-island” with
their guns cocked and ready. The savages hesitated, and stopped to
parley. Seeing this my head-man, Kiongwe, resolved to delay their action
with conversation as far as possible till darkness should supervene and
put a temporary stoppage on warlike deeds, for, as no doubt all well
know, most Africans dread to fight at night. After a short silence the
leader of the enemy asked, in a hesitating way, “Who are you?” “We are
the servants of the white man who lives at Mandara’s,” proudly replied
Kiongwe. “Then you are bad men,” shrieked his interpellator with sudden
fury. “Your master has helped Makindara (Mandara) to attack us, and he
has given him strong medicine to make him conquer. Makindara has robbed
us of many things; now you shall pay. Give us all those goods you are
carrying, and return to Taveita; you shan’t pass by here.” Kiongwe was a
cunning man. He saw that it was well-nigh impossible for twenty
heavily-burdened men to force their way through an armed band of fifty,
so he prudently replied in conciliatory terms, “My master is not a bad
man; he has fought nobody, and knows nothing of Mandara’s wars. See, it
is now getting dark. Let us sleep here till dawn, then we will speak
again about this matter.” Whereupon he told the porters to cut boughs
from the surrounding trees and roughly hedge in the encampment, and to
gather firewood from around to make blazing watch-fires. The savages
meanwhile disposed themselves sullenly in a circle round the little
camp. Darkness fell. One by one the simple-minded enemy sank to sleep,
confident that their prey feared the night as they themselves did, and
would neither attack nor attempt to flee before the dawn. But Kiongwe
kept all his men awake, made the watch-fires blaze, then at midnight,
when his foes were snoring with sweet unanimity, he gave a stealthy word
of command, the men rose silently, hoisted their burthens on their
heads, clutched their guns, and one by one leaving the encampment,
picked their way like cautious cats amid the sleeping forms of the
besiegers. So, whether observed or not, they walked out into the
darkness unopposed, and if any of the enemy slept not, and saw them go,
his tongue was tied, and he dared not give the warning to his comrades,
for—who could tell?—perhaps, after all, they were not men but ghosts,
and none may fight with spirits in the enshrouding night.
Kiongwe and his men stumbled along perseveringly for several hours, and
then, having put a good distance between themselves and their possible
pursuers, lay down to rest and wait for the dawn, for the last part of
their journey offered many obstacles in the darkness to burdened men. I
should have told you, in proper sequence, that soon after nightfall
Kiongwe had detached from the camp two lithe, active men, relieved them
of their burdens, and enjoined them to elude the enemy and make their
way speedily to my settlement, warn me of the state of affairs, and ask
for advice and assistance. Accordingly, as I was leisurely undressing
that night, at about eleven o’clock, having sat up unusually late to
write my diary, I heard knocks at the door, and men saying, “Hodi,
hodi?” (“Hodi” is a polite Swahili term, somewhat equivalent to “May I
come in?”) Virapan, my servant, opened and admitted Mabruki Majera and
Ali Masi, Kiongwe’s two messengers. They told me the news in hurried
gasps and with a little natural exaggeration. Amazed and indignant that
my men should be in danger from savages whom I had never knowingly
harmed, I hurried on my things, and, in my impetuosity, was about to
dash off with a few men to Kiongwe’s assistance. But the more prudent of
my followers counselled a wiser course. They represented that in the
dark night I might either lose my way or break my leg in some unseen
pitfall, or else tumble unprepared on the hidden enemy, who might
despatch me in the darkness without even the chance of knowing I was
white, and superior to the common run of men. At any rate, they advised
that we should first apprise Mandara of our predicament, and seek
counsel and assistance from him. Accordingly I immediately started for
Mandara’s, and had quite enough experience on the way of the
difficulties and dangers of a mountain track on a dark night to be
thankful I had followed my men’s advice, and not sought the foe under
these disadvantageous conditions.
We found Mandara—I had sent a messenger on ahead—seated with a company
of his warriors under the large open shed in which he ordinarily
received visitors or transacted business. He looked rather blinky,
having but recently left his slumbers, but on my entry checked a huge
yawn, and beckoned me, with a wan smile, to take a seat by his side. His
warriors were squatting round blazing fires, stretching their hands to
the blaze, for it was a chilly night, and their shoulders twitched and
trembled with convulsive shivering. I stated the case to Mandara in,
perhaps, rather a theatrical manner, and informed him I intended to go
and seek my men at once and bring them back, whether the enemy objected
or not. “Who,” I concluded, “would dare to fight a white man?” Mandara
heard me with a quiet smile, and then, interrupting, said to my men,
“Your master is talking nonsense (upumbafu). How does he suppose he can
find his way to these men at night? Perhaps he will lose the road, and a
lion will kill him, or he may fall into the hands of the Wa-kibôšo, and
_they_ won’t be afraid to cut his throat. No, this is but a little
matter, and not worth the risking of a white man’s life. When the time
comes for your master to fight, he and I shall go to war side by side.
Now I will tell you what shall be done. I will send sixty of my soldiers
at once, and they shall take two of you with them to speak the Swahili
tongue to Kiongwe, otherwise he may mistake them for his enemies and
shoot. You shall go there with my men and bring the white man’s carriers
safely back.” There was so much good sense in what Mandara said that I
resolved to acquiesce, at any rate for the present, so I bade him
good-bye, left two of my men behind, and crept back along the uncertain
path to my demesne. As we went we saw the war-fires gleam out from hill
to hill, we heard the war-cry re-echoing from gorge to gorge, and on the
road we, from time to time, encountered swarthy naked forms hurrying to
the rendezvous. Some had started from their sleep and merely seized
their spears and shields, without waiting to don their martial costume,
and wives and children were running after them with plumes of Colobus
skin and carapace of kite’s feathers. All greeted us with hysteric
friendliness as they passed, and when I met band after band of warriors,
I could not help feeling thankful that they were friends, not foes.
I returned home and slept till dawn; then, being awakened with the first
streaks of returning light, and finding that none of my men had arrived,
I hesitated no longer, armed myself and my few followers, and took the
road to the plains. After walking for some two hours I, who was in
front, saw the bushes in the distance moving and heard the low voices of
men. I was just preparing for a grim emergency and standing in the path,
revolver in hand, imagining it was the enemy I had to confront, when a
familiar face emerged from the scrub, I saw a burthen carried on the
head, and I at once knew it was my missing caravan approaching. I
greeted the foremost men affectionately, and passed on to the rear of
the little column, bidding the others hurry forward. There I found
Kiongwe, and he gave me a hasty account of his adventures. After
reposing a short time in a dry river-bed, they had arisen with the dawn,
and once more continued their march. Whilst we were talking, loud voices
were heard behind, and there appeared my two men, who had accompanied
Mandara’s soldiers, and who were now scurrying along with a few Moši men
following in a disorderly crowd. Directly they saw me they shrieked,
“Oh, master, run for your life; the Wa-šenzi (savages) are coming.”
However, I preserved, fortunately, a little presence of mind, otherwise
these injudicious men would have caused a regular panic, as my porters
were preparing to cast down their loads and flee. But with a few
peremptory words I rallied them, and we beat an orderly retreat just in
time. Soon after we had reached our little eyrie, wherein I felt so snug
and secure, we could hear the distant cries of the baffled and pursuing
enemy. It appeared that the sixty soldiers of Mandara, who had gone to
relieve my men, passed them on the road, and went on professing their
longing to exterminate the presumptuous foe; but no sooner did they come
within gunshot of the enemy, who had just awakened and begun to follow
the spoor of the fugitives, than the hardy warriors of Mandara took to
flight, and under these conditions my two men accompanying them wisely
followed their example. A hot pursuit ensued, from which we just
escaped, and the enemy, following Mandara’s flying men, was diverted
from our track and dashed along the road to Mandara’s capital. In the
vicinity, however, of their chief’s residence, inspired no doubt to
fight _pro aris et focis_, the men of Moši made a stand; they were
reinforced, and a desperate battle took place, in which the enemy was
ultimately worsted. But in the meantime Mandara’s neighbours on his
western and northern frontier, seeing his guards removed to combat the
invaders on the southern side, took advantage of the unprotected state
of this part of his kingdom, crossed the border, laid waste with fire
and sword, captured cattle and women, and indulged in sweet revenge for
many a former raid on their own homesteads. When we saw from our high
ridge the smoke rising from the burning villages of Western Moši, and
simultaneously heard the din of battle coming from the southern
frontier, we felt it was time to take a definite part in the conflict.
Should Mandara be crushed between two forces, and vanquished, we might
expect scant mercy from the victorious enemy. Accordingly, the chief of
Moši having sent a messenger asking for advice and ammunition, I
immediately armed twenty of my own men with Sniders and muzzle-loading
guns, took a barrel of powder, a box of cartridges, and a bag of
buckshot; and, _further, in view of an eventuality which I had often
anticipated even in England_, I packed a mysterious box with some of the
contents of a watertight case, and gave it to one of my men with the
strictest injunctions as to its careful porterage.
As we wound along the hill-side towards Mandara’s we found the narrow
path choked with lowing kine and bleating goats. At the approach of war
and invasion the inhabitants of Moši were driving all their cattle to
Mandara’s fortress. Thither we also went our way. Ordinarily the chief
would pass his days in a circle of four or five beehive huts and open
sheds, surrounded by a low hedge of dracænas and exposed to view from
the village green; but in troublous times he withdrew to an
extraordinary fastness which merits a word or two of description. To the
south of these visible huts, which to an unsuspecting passer-by
constituted the entirety of Mandara’s town, rose a dense grove of
unusually fine bananas. The initiated who wished to approach the hidden
citadel wound through their cool green shade by circuitous paths, patent
to all at this time by the press of cattle that thronged them, and then
arrived at a stockade of living forest. The chief of Moši had girt about
his stronghold with a compact band of trees, dug up by the roots as
saplings and planted alive, so that with a year or two’s growth their
trunks had thickened and left no space between. Further, they were
planted in the outer works four deep, and, being alive and green, their
network of foliage masked the fortress with a living grove which would
not be set fire to with the same ease as a stockade of dead timber. One
small opening alone appeared, through which cattle could just be pushed,
and which, during a siege, was closed with heavy wooden doors and
guarded with the two small cannon Mandara possessed. We made our way
through the lowing herds of cattle, passed many minor bulwarks and
hedges, and at length arrived before a large building of wattle and
clay, shaped almost like a European house. Herein Mandara was sitting
with his wives and children, and, in strange contrast to his usual
majestic demeanour, seemed quite tremulous with fear. His western
borders were being devastated unopposed, and all his soldiers were
engaged in fierce battle on the southern side. I sat some while with
him, and assured him of my earnest co-operation and of our ultimate
invincibility. Then loud shouts began to sound nearer and nearer to the
tree-girt walls, and while his attendants rushed to inspect the
on-comers, Mandara clutched my hand and implored me not to leave him.
But he had no cause for further alarm. The shouting came from his own
victorious soldiers, who, after a desperate battle of several hours’
duration, had succeeded in beating back the enemy’s invasion on the
southern frontier, and were now prepared, after quenching their thirst,
to go and avenge their slaughtered brethren on the west. This news made
Mandara a new man. He shook me by both hands, he laughed aloud, skipped
about, and then seizing his huge broad-bladed spear, he struck the
ground with its shaft, drew up his fine figure to its full height, and
strode about the compound with haughty mien and gleaming eye, the very
embodiment of a warrior chief, and very different to the almost lubberly
creature who a few minutes before had been well-nigh whimpering with
fear.
Some of his soldiers who had just arrived wore the most extraordinary
war costumes, evidently designed to strike terror into their foes. Most
of them had, as a good foundation, plastered their skins with red ochre
and mutton fat, and on this had drawn, especially about the face, most
ludicrous designs in white—white rings round the eyes, or white spots on
their cheeks. This gave them a look like an English clown, with a dash
of the typical bogey that haunts the dream of every childhood. On their
heads were crescents made of ostrich feathers, or caps of the Colobus
monkey skin. This last-mentioned animal (_Colobus Gueresa, var. nov.
Caudatus_) also supplied them with mantles of long black and white fur,
and contributed the heavily plumed tails which these Čaga soldiers fixed
on to that portion of their body where tails should rightly appear if
man had not dispensed with such appendages. Some of the men wore thick
capes of kites’ feathers round the shoulders, and not a few had tied
round the head masks of ghastly ugliness, with a double face, looking
behind and before. They were all very excited about their exploits, and
many screamed out hysterically in high falsetto voices. One unusually
quiet man was pointed out to me as a great hero. It was said that, being
surprised collecting firewood in the forest, and attacked by three of
the enemy with spears and swords, he had succeeded in parrying their
blows with a wooden stake, had disarmed them, and killed them all three.
Whilst we stood listening to this clamour two soldiers staggered in, a
ghastly sight, streaming with blood, though their wounds were not
serious, and they brought the news that Mandara’s brother, who was
defending the western frontier, was hard pressed by the enemy, and had
begun to retreat. At these serious tidings a silence fell on the
assembly. I then proposed to Mandara that I should start at once, and
try to give a decisive turn to the conflict against the Wa-Kibôšo.
Moreover, I had a certain plan in my mind that I was very anxious to
carry out. After a little deliberation our mode of procedure was
settled, and Mandara’s remaining soldiers, having quenched their thirst
with liberal draughts of banana-beer, which the women were constantly
brewing, now prepared to start once more for the fray. One body of about
a hundred started off under the command of Mandara’s chief captain, and
marched towards the north-west, hoping to take the enemy in flank, while
my little force, accompanied by some native guides and a few of
Mandara’s Swahilis, directed itself due west towards the smoking
villages. A very little experience showed me that I could not fight like
a Čaga man. When I had descended my seventh ravine and was preparing to
mount the eight escarpment along our route under a blazing sun, I
devoutly hoped the enemy might not be waiting for us at the top,
otherwise all that I could do would be to throw myself breathless and
perspiring at his feet, and let him do his worst. But although the enemy
was there when we reached the summit, he was harmless; that is to say,
we found nothing but dead bodies around us when we had scaled the
height, for by another turn in the fortune of war the Wa-Kibôšo were
once more retreating before Mandara’s forces. Stopping here to rest and
regain breath, I looked for the first time on the bodies of men slain in
war, and the sight was quite sufficiently bloody to appal the most
callous nature. The weapons which had effected the greatest slaughter in
the skirmish had been the great shovel-bladed spears made after the
fashion of the Masai. Though Mandara boasted so much of his guns, yet in
the hands of these untrained savages, who have no idea of aim, they were
almost innocuous weapons, whereas the spears used hand to hand inflicted
horrible wounds. Here were corpses disembowelled by a lunge and a twist
of the spear. Others had their backs literally carved open down the
spine. Most of the severed heads had probably been chopped off by the
short Roman swords which the Čaga soldiers carry. Hereabouts was quite a
typical field of carnage. In many places the ground was pappy with
oozing blood. In others little pools of gore were coagulating and caking
under the fierce sunlight. The tall blades of the trampled grass were
flecked and splashed with brown drops of the dried fluid. The place
looked and smelt like a shambles. Already the many hideous creatures
that make their living out of scenes of slaughter were swarming forth,
emboldened with the scent of blood. Great green flies buzzed over the
stark bodies of the slain, ants swarmed in myriads round the flakes of
gore, while, strange contrast! lovely butterflies, blue and black, gold
and black, metallic green and saffron yellow, paused intoxicated on the
blood-soaked ground, greedily sucking up the thickening, frothy liquid
with the enjoyment of ghouls. The neighbouring trees and bushes were
dotted with vultures and crows, only waiting our departure to fling
themselves on the feast. With a saddened and disgusted feeling I left
this scene, almost loathing friends and foes alike. Why, in the midst of
such superb scenery, with smiling plenty exhibited on every hand, could
these silly savages think of nothing but mutual extermination? It was
curious to look from the bloody field of battle to the great dazzling
snowy dome which rose above us to the north, immaculate, pure, and
freezing in its isolation, and then think that it, after all, was the
cause of all this trouble. If Kilima-njaro had not drawn me hither on
this quest, the people of Moši and Kibôšo would not have come to blows
on my behalf, and these poor mutilated corpses might still have been
live men in the prime of life, eating, drinking, laughing with their
wives and children. Must it be that I should walk through blood to reach
the snow?
Once more the din of battle reached our ears. The enemy was again
engaged with the forefront of Mandara’s forces. We could see them
fighting amid the banana groves covering a distant slope, or at least we
could see the little puffs of white smoke which rose continually from
amongst the green maze of fronds, and hear the popping of guns and the
faint shouts and battle-cries. Over their heads soared grimly a flight
of vultures waiting for their coming repast. As we were seen marching to
the field of action, guns firing and flags flying, Mandara’s men pressed
on their enemies with renewed valour, encouraged by our approach, and
the disheartened Wa-kibôšo yielded and fled up the hill-side till they
reached the summit, where they turned and halted, met by reinforcements.
The men of Moši were too exhausted to follow, and when I had arrived on
the scene I found them crouching down at the foot of the hill, watching
their foes. Had the Wa-kibôšo now charged down the slope on us, whom
they greatly outnumbered, the consequences for our side might have been
disastrous; for Mandara’s weary men began to waver, and seemed to think
of going home and leaving me to settle the conflict, and my own men were
not only worn out with their previous night’s walk, but were further
tired by our long tramp to the field of battle. We should therefore have
been unfitted to withstand the impetuous rush of two or three hundred
men. However, the Wa-kibôšo were content to stand on the defensive. They
were curious and anxious to see what tactics the white man would follow,
with what new kind of sorcery he would war against them. The white man
was proposing meanwhile to a dissentient group of followers a grand
charge up the hill, which should carry the enemy’s positions, and drive
them off in headlong flight. Had he been backed up by the hundred and
twenty-one men around him, this plan would doubtless have ended in a
signal victory; but as no one except his Indian servant acceded to it,
he felt that under those circumstances a grand charge of two would lack
sufficient moral effect. During these deliberations the sun was sinking
below the purple mass of Mount Méru, and I resolved to fall back on a
rather fantastical method I had preconceived of scattering my enemies,
and striking effectual terror into their foolish hearts. I moved my men
on to the crown of a small hillock which faced the hill-top whereon the
ranks of Wa-kibôšo stood in savage array. Before darkness fell my men
had planted several stout poles on the summit of our hillock, and had
further erected a kind of rough platform of boughs, on which a few of
the leather capes of Mandara’s men were spread, to make a smooth
surface. Then I called for the mysterious case I had packed and brought
with me from my settlement. Only my servant, Virapan, understood the
nature of its contents, and as he drew forth white tubes and blue tubes,
and queer little tins, not only the men of Mandara believed that I was
about to practise sorcery of the first water, but even my own
matter-of-fact Zanzibaris fancied that something uncanny was about to
take place. As for the Wa-kibôšo I was just near enough to their
hill-top to catch every now and then the murmurs of their wonderment at
our actions. Quietly and expeditiously Virapan and Cephas cut a few thin
rods, and handed them to me to insert into the little extinguishers
attached to some of the larger tubes, which were then hung up through
staples to the upright posts. I laid out open tins of dusky powder on
the platform of boughs, I lighted in readiness my bull’s-eye lantern; in
short, not to weary the expectant reader longer, I made all the
necessary preparations for a grand display of fireworks. No sooner had
darkness set in than I blazed forth upon the astonished natives with
Bengal lights, red fire, Roman candles, serpent squibs, and lastly a
magnificent flight of rockets. The terrified Wa-kibôšo scarcely waited
to see the last of these. When the first rocket rose with a flaming
shower and a shrieking rush into the air, and then broke well over their
heads into a mass of blue and crimson falling meteors, our astounded
foes fled in dismay, and we found ourselves alone on the field, whence
we journeyed peacefully home by the light of a late rising moon.
The next day we were all utterly prostrate with fatigue, and not in the
best of humours, although Mandara had sent us a fat ox wherewith to
feast and make merry. The fact was, he had accompanied his gift with
congratulations on my _tour de force_ of the day before, and a cool
request that I would proceed to follow up the advantage gained by an
invasion of the enemies’ territory, which I was to utterly harry and
devastate, and then hand over to Mandara’s keeping. In fact he would
have liked me to conquer all the states of Čaga for him on my own
responsibility. This I peremptorily declined to do. I explained to him
that I had only joined in the fight of the day before because my own men
and goods had been threatened, but that I had come to Kilima-njaro not
to make war on any one, but to go my own way in peace and confine myself
to the slaughter of the beasts of the field if I must kill anything. I
also let him know with unusual outspokenness that to an English mind his
policy of continually harrying the states of his neighbours in order to
supply the Arab caravans with slaves, was excessively distasteful, and
one which would inevitably lose him Sir John Kirk’s friendship.
This reply rather took him by surprise, and for some days there was a
coolness between us. Then he sent for me and delivered a long speech,
which was certainly one of the cleverest and most casuistic I have ever
heard from the mouth of an African slave-dealer as an argument in favour
of selling men into slavery. The gist of it was:—“Here are people who
make war on me. I defend myself, and carry the war into their country,
as we did the other day. Very well, a number of prisoners are made. What
would you have me do with them? Slaughter them? No; that would be
displeasing to Erua (God). Return them to my enemies? Then they would
only take that as a sign of weakness, and attack me once more.
Distribute them among my own people on my own land? But my subjects
would themselves protest, and say, ‘If strangers are to occupy the soil,
where is the room for our children to cultivate?’ Then what can I do but
sell them to the Arabs?” I answered this by first describing to Mandara
(who probably was unaware of this other aspect) what the Arabs did with
the unhappy Wa-Čaga whom they purchased; how they made them labour in
the sugar-plantations on the coast; how they exported them to regions
across the sea, the nameless outrages inflicted on the youths and
maidens, and as I warmed to the subject his face grew sombre, and he
hung his head. Then I drew another picture. “See,” I said, “how silly is
war; who profits but the Arabs?[18] Yes,” I exclaimed, getting furious
as I thought of it, “it is you, you vile wretches,” pointing to his
Swahili parasites who sat sulkily by, “who are the curse of the country.
May God punish you in this world and the next! I, at any rate, warn you,
I will do my best to thwart your dealings; I will write to the Consul on
the coast and give your names, and stop your slave-convoys. So you had
better decamp and try fields where no white man is.” Then I turned to
Mandara and said, “Take my advice for once. Cast these men from your
country, and turn all your attention to legitimate trade. Make your
slaves cultivate your own plantations instead of the Arabs’. Supply the
caravans going and returning to and from Masai-land with food. You know
how gladly they will pay for it in goods and money (rupees). Thus you
will grow rich and still retain the Consul’s friendship. Above all, let
there be peace on the mountain. Make friends with Ki-bôšo, Ki-rua, and
Maraṅu, and then the white man as your friend may wander everywhere in
peace.” When I had finished, Mandara took me by both hands and said,
“Indeed you are speaking truth; I know it. Why do you not always come to
me and counsel me? If I have only these Swahili people to advise me, how
can I avoid doing wrong?” In this Mandara was right. I believe, as I
wrote to Sir John Kirk at the time, that I might have acquired a very
powerful and useful influence over Mandara’s mind had I made the
endeavour. It was such an advantage being able to talk with him direct,
and dispense with the nullifying influence of an interpreter. But at the
same time it was not my mission to meddle with the politics of
Kilima-njaro; I had been sent there to superintend the collecting of
scientific information and the necessary material for investigating the
fauna and flora of the snow-mountain, and not to redress the wrongs of
the suffering inhabitants. Only so far as they hindered or otherwise
affected my proper work could I exert any influence over local
chieftains. My employers had not placed funds at my disposal to suppress
slave-trading, or weld the states of Kilima-njaro into a confederation
against the Swahili traffickers in human flesh. I had, as it was, quite
sufficient difficulty in doing any natural history collecting at all,
for I had found my two collectors very idle and inefficient, and the
entire work, even in its most menial details, was soon to be thrown on
my hands without any outside help; consequently I was disinclined to
waste many hours of daylight in conversation with the chief of Moši,
interesting as he was to talk to. I therefore neglected to follow up the
decided advantage I had gained over Mandara’s conscience, and employed
the few peaceful days which followed the warlike movements I have just
described exclusively in skinning birds and drying plants.
Unfortunately, while thus engaged the Swahili courtiers, who now hated
me virulently, made every effort to regain their baneful influence over
Mandara’s vacillating mind.