Horrors of the slave-trader's track. System of cultivation.
Pottery. Special exorcising. Death of the last mule. Rescue of
Chirikaloma's wife. Brutalities of the slave-drivers. Mtarika's.
Desperate march to Mtaka's. Meets Arab caravans. Dismay of
slavers. Dismissal of sepoys. Mataka. The Waiyan metropolis.
Great hospitality and good feeling. Mataka restores stolen
cattle. Life with the chief. Beauty of country and healthiness
of climate. The Waiyan people and their peculiarities. Regrets
at the abandonment of Bishop Mackenzie's plans.
_19th June, 1866._--We passed a woman tied by the neck to a tree and
dead, the people of the country explained that she had been unable to
keep up with the other slaves in a gang, and her master had determined
that she should not become the property of anyone else if she
recovered after resting for a time. I may mention here that we saw
others tied up in a similar manner, and one lying in the path shot or
stabbed[12], for she was in a pool of blood. The explanation we got
invariably was that the Arab who owned these victims was enraged at
losing his money by the slaves becoming unable to march, and vented
his spleen by murdering them; but I have nothing more than common
report in support of attributing this enormity to the Arabs.
_20th June, 1866._--Having returned to Metaba, we were told by
Kinazombé, the chief, that no one had grain to sell but himself. He
had plenty of powder and common cloth from the Arabs, and our only
chance with him was parting with our finer cloths and other things
that took his fancy. He magnified the scarcity in front in order to
induce us to buy all we could from him, but he gave me an ample meal
of porridge and guinea-fowl before starting.
_21st June, 1866._--We had difficulties about carriers, but on
reaching an island in the Rovuma, called Chimiki, we found the people
were Makoa and more civil and willing to work than the Waiyau: we sent
men back to bring up the havildar to a very civil headman called
Chirikaloma.
_22nd June, 1866._--A poor little boy with prolapsus ani was carried
yesterday by his mother many a weary mile, lying over her right
shoulder--the only position he could find ease in,--an infant at the
breast occupied the left arm, and on her head were carried two
baskets. The mother's love was seen in binding up the part when we
halted, whilst the coarseness of low civilization was evinced in the
laugh with which some black brutes looked at the sufferer.
_23rd June, 1866._--The country is covered with forest, much more open
than further east. We are now some 800 feet above the sea. The people
all cultivate maize near the Rovuma, and on islands where moisture
helps them, nearly all possess guns, and plenty of powder and fine
beads,--red ones strung on the hair, and fine blue ones in rolls on
the neck, fitted tightly like soldiers' stocks. The lip-ring is
universal; teeth filed to points.
_24th June, 1866._--Immense quantities of wood are cut down, collected
in heaps, and burned to manure the land, but this does not prevent the
country having an appearance of forest. Divine service at 8.30 A.M.;
great numbers looking on. They have a clear idea of the Supreme Being,
but do not pray to Him.. Cold south winds prevail; temp. 55°. One of
the mules is very ill--it was left with the havildar when we went back
to Ngozo, and probably remained uncovered at night, for as soon as we
saw it, illness was plainly visible. Whenever an animal has been in
their power the sepoys have abused it. It is difficult to feel
charitably to fellows whose scheme seems to have been to detach the
Nassick boys from me first, then, when the animals were all killed,
the Johanna men, afterwards they could rule me as they liked, or go
back and leave me to perish; but I shall try to feel as charitably as
I can in spite of it all, for the mind has a strong tendency to brood
over the ills of travel. I told the havildar when I came up to him at
Metaba what I had done, and that I was very much displeased with the
sepoys for compassing my failure, if not death; an unkind word had
never passed my lips to them: to this he could bear testimony. He
thought that they would only be a plague and trouble to me, but he
"would go on and die with me."
Stone boiling is unknown in these countries, but ovens are made in
anthills. Holes are dug in the ground for baking the heads of large
game, as the zebra, feet of elephants, humps of rhinoceros, and the
production of fire by drilling between the palms of the hands is
universal. It is quite common to see the sticks so used attached to
the clothing or bundles in travelling; they wet the blunt end of the
upright stick with the tongue, and dip it in the sand to make some
particles of silica adhere before inserting it in the horizontal
piece. The wood of a certain wild fig-tree is esteemed as yielding
fire readily.
In wet weather they prefer to carry fire in the dried balls of
elephants' dung which are met with--the male's being about eight
inches in diameter and about a foot long: they also employ the stalk
of a certain plant which grows on rocky places for the same purpose.
We bought a senzé, or _Aulacaudatus Swindernianus_, which had been
dried over a slow fire. This custom of drying fish, flesh, and fruits,
on stages over slow fires, is practised very generally: the use of
salt for preservation is unknown. Besides stages for drying, the
Makondé use them about six feet high for sleeping on instead of the
damp ground: a fire beneath helps to keep off the mosquitoes, and they
are used by day as convenient resting-places and for observation.
Pottery seems to have been known to the Africans from the remotest
times, for fragments are found everywhere, even among the oldest
fossil bones in the country. Their pots for cooking, holding water and
beer, are made by the women, and the form is preserved by the eye
alone, for no sort of machine is ever used. A foundation or bottom is
first laid, and a piece of bone or bamboo used to scrape the clay or
to smooth over the pieces which are added to increase the roundness;
the vessel is then left a night: the next morning a piece is added to
the rim--as the air is dry several rounds may be added--and all is
then carefully smoothed off; afterwards it is thoroughly sun-dried. A
light fire of dried cow-dung, or corn-stalks, or straw, and grass with
twigs, is made in a hole in the ground for the final baking. Ornaments
are made on these pots of black lead, or before being hardened by the
sun they are ornamented for a couple or three inches near the rim, all
the tracery being in imitation of plaited basket work.
Chirikaloma says that the surname of the Makoa, to whom he belongs, is
Mirazi--others have the surname Melola or Malola--Chimposola. All had
the half-moon mark when in the south-east, but now they leave it off a
good deal and adopt the Waiyau marks, because of living in their
country. They show no indications of being named after beasts and
birds. Mirazi was an ancestor; they eat all clean animals, but refuse
the hyaena, leopard, or any beast that devours dead men.[13]
_25th June, 1866._--On leaving Chirikaloma we came on to Namalo,
whose village that morning had been deserted, the people moving off in
a body towards the Matambwé country, where food is more abundant. A
poor little girl was left in one of the huts from being too weak to
walk, probably an orphan. The Arab slave-traders flee from the path as
soon as they hear of our approach. The Rovuma is from 56 to 80 yards
wide here. No food to be had for either love or money.
Near many of the villages we observe a wand bent and both ends
inserted into the ground: a lot of medicine, usually the bark of
trees, is buried beneath it. When sickness is in a village, the men
proceed to the spot, wash themselves with the medicine and water,
creep through beneath the bough, then bury the medicine and the evil
influence together. This is also used to keep off evil spirits, wild
beasts, and enemies.
Chirikaloma told us of a child in his tribe which was deformed from
his birth. He had an abortive toe where his knee should have been;
some said to his mother, "Kill him;" but she replied, "How can I kill
my son?" He grew up and had many fine sons and daughters, but none
deformed like himself: this was told in connection with an answer to
my question about the treatment of Albinoes: he said they did not kill
them, but they never grew to manhood. On inquiring if he had ever
heard of cannibals, or people with tails, he replied, "Yes, but we
have always understood that these and other monstrosities are met with
only among you sea-going people." The other monstrosities he referred
to were those who are said to have eyes behind the head as well as in
front: I have heard of them before, but then I was near Angola, in the
west.
The rains are expected here when the Pleiades appear in the east soon
after sunset; they go by the same name here as further south--Lemila
or the "hoeings."
In the route along the Rovuma, we pass among people who are so well
supplied with white calico by the slave-trade from Kilwa, that it is
quite a drug in the market: we cannot get food for it. If we held on
westwards we should cross several rivers flowing into the Rovuma from
the southward, as the Zandulo, the Sanjenzé, the Lochiringo, and then,
in going round the north end of Nyassa, we should pass among the
Nindi, who now inhabit the parts vacated by the Mazitu, and imitate
them in having shields and in marauding. An Arab party went into their
country, and got out again only by paying a whole bale of calico; it
would not be wise in me to venture there at present, but if we return
this way we may; meanwhile we shall push on to Mataka, who is only a
few days off from the middle of the Lake, and has abundance of
provisions.
_26th June, 1866._--My last mule died. In coming along in the morning
we were loudly accosted by a well-dressed woman who had just had a
very heavy slave-taming stick put on her neck; she called in such an
authoritative tone to us to witness the flagrant injustice of which
she was the victim that all the men stood still and went to hear the
case. She was a near relative of Chirikaloma, and was going up the
river to her husband, when the old man (at whose house she was now a
prisoner) caught her, took her servant away from her, and kept her in
the degraded state we saw. The withes with which she was bound were
green and sappy. The old man said in justification that she was
running away from Chirikaloma, and he would be offended with him if he
did not secure her.
I asked the officious old gentleman in a friendly tone what he
expected to receive from Chirikaloma, and he said, "Nothing." Several
slaver-looking fellows came about, and I felt sure that the woman had
been seized in order to sell her to them, so I gave the captor a cloth
to pay to Chirikaloma if he were offended, and told him to say that
I, feeling ashamed to see one of his relatives in a slave-stick, had
released her, and would, take her on to her husband.
She is evidently a lady among them, having many fine beads and some
strung on elephant's hair: she has a good deal of spirit too, for on
being liberated she went into the old man's house and took her basket
and calabash. A virago of a wife shut the door and tried to prevent
her, as well as to cut off the beads from her person, but she resisted
like a good one, and my men thrust the door open and let her out, but
minus her slave. The other wife--for old officious had two--joined her
sister in a furious tirade of abuse, the elder holding her sides in
regular fishwife fashion till I burst into a laugh, in which the
younger wife joined. I explained to the different headmen in front of
this village what I had done, and sent messages to Chirikaloma
explanatory of my friendly deed to his relative, so that no
misconstruction should be put on my act.
We passed a slave woman shot or stabbed through the body and lying on
the path: a group of mon stood about a hundred yards off on one side,
and another of women on the other side, looking on; they said an Arab
who passed early that morning had done it in anger at losing the price
he had given for her, because she was unable to walk any longer.
_27th June, 1866._--To-day we came upon a man dead from starvation, as
he was very thin. One of our men wandered and found a number of slaves
with slave-sticks on, abandoned by their master from want of food;
they were too weak to be able to speak or say where they had come
from; some were quite young. We crossed the Tulosi, a stream coming
from south, about twenty yards wide.
At Chenjewala's the people are usually much startled when I explain
that the numbers of slaves we see dead on the road have been killed
partly by those who sold them, for I tell them that if they sell
their fellows, they are like the man who holds the victim while the
Arab performs the murder.
Chenjewala blamed Machemba, a chief above him on the Rovuma, for
encouraging the slave-trade; I told him I had travelled so much among
them that I knew all the excuses they could make, each headman blamed
some one else.
"It would be better if you kept your people and cultivated more
largely," said I, "Oh, Machemba sends his men and robs our gardens
after we have cultivated," was the reply. One man said that the Arabs
who come and tempt them with fine clothes are the cause of their
selling: this was childish, so I told them they would very soon have
none to sell: their country was becoming jungle, and all their people
who did not die in the road would be making gardens for Arabs at Kilwa
and elsewhere.
_28th June, 1866._--When we got about an hour from Chenjewala's we
came to a party in the act of marauding; the owners of the gardens
made off for the other side of the river, and waved to us to go
against the people of Machemba, but we stood on a knoll with all our
goods on the ground, and waited to see how matters would turn out. Two
of the marauders came to us and said they had captured five people. I
suppose they took us for Arabs, as they addressed Musa. They then took
some green maize, and so did some of my people, believing that as all
was going, they who were really starving might as well have a share.
I went on a little way with the two marauders, and by the footprints
thought the whole party might amount to four or five with guns; the
gardens and huts were all deserted. A poor woman was sitting, cooking
green maize, and one of the men ordered her to follow him. I said to
him, "Let her alone, she is dying." "Yes," said he, "of hunger," and
went'on without her.
We passed village after village, and gardens all deserted! We were
now between two contending parties. We slept at one garden; and as we
were told by Chenjewala's people to take what we liked, and my men had
no food, we gleaned what congo beans, bean leaves, and sorghum stalks
we could,--poor fare enough, but all we could get.
_29th June, 1866._--We came onto Machemba's brother, Chimseia, who
gave us food at once. The country is now covered with deeper soil, and
many large acacia-trees grow in the rich loam: the holms too are
large, and many islands afford convenient maize grounds. One of the
Nassiek lads came up and reported his bundle, containing 240 yards of
calico, had been stolen; he went aside, leaving it on the path
(probably fell asleep), and it was gone when he came back. I cannot
impress either on them or the sepoys that it is wrong to sleep on the
march.
Akosakoné, whom we had liberated, now arrived at the residence of her
husband, who was another brother of Machemba. She behaved like a lady
all through, sleeping at a fire apart from the men. The ladies of the
different villages we passed condoled with her, and she related to
them the indignity that had been done to her. Besides this she did us
many services: she bought food for us, because, having a good address,
we saw that she could get double what any of our men could purchase
for the same cloth; she spoke up for us when any injustice was
attempted, and, when we were in want of carriers, volunteered to carry
a bag of beads on her head. On arriving at Machemba's brother,
Chimseia, she introduced me to him, and got him to be liberal to us in
food on account of the service we had rendered to her. She took leave
of us all with many expressions of thankfulness, and we were glad that
we had not mistaken her position or lavished kindness on the
undeserving.
One Johanna man was caught stealing maize, then another, after I had
paid for the first. I sent a request to the chief not to make much of
a grievance about it, as I was very much ashamed at my men stealing;
he replied that he had liked me from the first, and I was not to fear,
as whatever service he could do he would most willingly in order to
save me pain and trouble. A sepoy now came up having given his musket
to a man to carry, who therefore demanded payment. As it had become a
regular nuisance for the sepoys to employ people to carry for them,
telling them that I would pay, I demanded why he had promised in my
name. "Oh, it was but a little way he carried the musket," said he.
Chimseia warned us next morning, 30th June, against allowing any one
to straggle or steal in front, for stabbing and plundering were the
rule. The same sepoy who had employed a man to carry his musket now
came forward, with his eyes fixed and shaking all over. This, I was to
understand, meant extreme weakness; but I had accidentally noticed him
walking quite smartly before this exhibition, so I ordered him to keep
close to the donkey that carried the havildar's luggage, and on no
account to remain behind the party. He told the havildar that he would
sit down only for a little while; and, I suppose, fell asleep, for he
came up to us in the evening as naked as a robin.
I saw another person bound to a tree and dead--a sad sight to see,
whoever was the perpetrator. So many slave-sticks lie along our path,
that I suspect the people here-about make a practice of liberating
what slaves they cian find abandoned on the march, to sell them again.
A large quantity of maize is cultivated at Chimsaka's, at whose place
we this day arrived. We got a supply, but being among thieves, we
thought it advisable to move on to the next place (Mtarika's). When
starting, we found that fork, kettle, pot, and shot-pouch had been
taken. The thieves, I observed, kept up a succession of jokes with
Chuma and Wikatani and when the latter was enjoying them, gaping to
the sky, they were busy putting the things of which he had charge
under their cloths! I spoke to the chief, and he got the three first
articles back for me.
A great deal if not all the lawlessness of this quarter is the result
of the slave-trade, for the Arabs buy whoever is brought to them and
in a country covered with forest as this is, kidnapping can be
prosecuted with the greatest ease; elsewhere the people are honest,
and have a regard for justice.
_1st July, 1866._--As we approach Mtarika's place, the country becomes
more mountainous and the land sloping for a mile down to the south
bank of the Rovuma supports a large population. Some were making new
gardens by cutting down trees and piling the branches for burning;
others had stored tip large quantities of grain and were moving it to
a new locality, but they were all so well supplied with calico
(Merikano) that they would not look at ours: the market was in fact
glutted by slavers from (Quiloa) Kilwa. On asking why people were seen
tied to trees to die as we had seen them, they gave the usual answer
that the Arabs tie them thus and leave them to perish, because they
are vexed, when the slaves can walk no further, that they have lost
their money by them. The path is almost strewed with slave-sticks, and
though the people denied it, I suspect that they make a practice of
following slave caravans and cutting off the sticks from those who
fall out in the march, and thus stealing them. By selling them again
they get the quantities of cloth we see. Some asked for gaudy prints,
of which we had none, because we knew that the general taste of the
Africans of the Interior is for strength rather than show in what they
buy.
The Rovuma here is about 100 yards broad, and still keeps up its
character of a rapid stream, with sandy banks and islands: the latter
are generally occupied, as being defensible when the river is in
flood.
_2nd July, 1866._--We rested at Mtarika's old place; and though we had
to pay dearly with our best table-cloths[14] for it, we got as much as
made one meal a day. At the same dear rate we could give occasionally
only two ears of maize to each man; and if the sepoys got their
comrades' corn into their hands, they eat it without shame. We had to
bear a vast amount of staring, for the people, who are Waiyau, have a
great deal of curiosity, and are occasionally rather rude. They have
all heard of our wish to stop the slave-trade, and are rather taken
aback when told that by selling they are part and part guilty of the
mortality of which we had been unwilling spectators. Some were
dumbfounded when shown that in the eye of their Maker they are parties
to the destruction of human life which accompanies this traffic both
by sea and land. If they did not sell, the Arabs would not come to
buy. Chuma and Wakatani render what is said very eloquently in Chiyau,
most of the people being of their tribe, with only a sprinkling of
slaves. Chimseia, Chimsaka, Mtarika, Mtendé, Makanjela, Mataka, and
all the chiefs and people in our route to the Lake, are Waiyau, or
Waiau.[15]
On the southern slope down to the river there are many oozing springs
and damp spots where rice has been sown and reaped. The adjacent land
has yielded large crops of sorghum, congo-beans, and pumpkins.
Successive crowds of people came to gaze. My appearance and acts often
cause a burst of laughter; sudden standing up produces a flight of
women and children. To prevent peeping into the hut which I occupy,
and making the place quite dark, I do my writing in the verandah.
Chitané, the poodle dog, the buffalo-calf, and our only remaining
donkey are greeted with the same amount of curiosity and
laughter-exciting comment as myself.
Every evening a series of loud musket reports is heard from the
different villages along the river; these are imitation evening guns.
All copy the Arabs in dress and chewing tobacco with "nora" lime, made
from burnt river shells instead of betel-nut and lime. The women are
stout, well-built persons, with thick arms and legs; their heads
incline to the bullet shape; the lip-rings are small; the tattoo a
mixture of Makoa and Waiyau. Fine blue and black beads are in fashion,
and so are arm-coils of thick brass wire. Very nicely inlaid combs are
worn in the hair; the inlaying is accomplished by means of a gum got
from the root of an orchis called _Nangazu_.
_3rd July, 1866._--A short march brought us to Mtarika's new place.
The chief made his appearance only after he had ascertained all he
could about us. The population is immense; they are making new
gardens, and the land is laid out by straight lines about a foot
broad, cut with the hoe; one goes miles without getting beyond the
marked or surveyed fields.
Mtarika came at last; a big ugly man, with large mouth and receding
forehead. He asked to see all our curiosities, as the watch, revolver,
breech-loading rifle, sextant. I gave him a lecture on the evil of
selling his people, and he wished me to tell all the other chiefs the
same thing.
They dislike the idea of guilt being attached to them for having sold
many who have lost their lives on their way down to the sea-coast. We
had a long visit from Mtarika next day; he gave us meal, and meat of
wild hog, with a salad made of bean-leaves. A wretched Swaheli Arab,
ill with rheumatism, came for aid, and got a cloth. They all profess
to me to be buying ivory only.
_5th July, 1866._--We left for Mtendé, who is the last chief before
we enter on a good eight days' march to Mataka's; we might have gone
to Kandulo's, who is near the Rovuma, and more to the north, but all
are so well supplied with everything by slave-traders that we have
difficulty in getting provisions at all. Mataka has plenty of all
kinds of food. On the way we passed the burnt bones of a person Avho
was accused of having eaten human flesh; he had been poisoned, or, as
they said, killed by poison (muave?), and then burned. His clothes
were hung, up on trees by the wayside as a warning to others. The
country was covered with scraggy forest, but so undulating that one
could often see all around from the crest of the waves. Great mountain
masses appear in the south and south-west. It feels cold, and the sky
is often overcast.
_6th July, 1866._--I took lunars yesterday, after which Mtendé invited
us to eat at his house where he had provided a large mess of rice
porridge and bean-leaves as a relish. He says that many Arabs pass him
and many of them die in their journeys. He knows no deaf or dumb
person in the country. He says that he cuts the throats of all animals
to be eaten, and does not touch lion or hyaena.
_7th July, 1866._--We got men from Mtendé to carry loads and show the
way. He asked a cloth to ensure his people going to the journey's end
and behaving properly; this is the only case of anything like tribute
being demanded in this journey: I gave him a cloth worth 5s. 6d.
Upland vegetation prevails; trees are dotted here and there among
bushes five feet high, and fine blue and yellow flowers are common. We
pass over a succession of ridges and valleys as in Londa; each valley
has a running stream or trickling rill; garden willows are in full
bloom, and also a species of sage with variegated leaves beneath the
flowers.
When the sepoy Perim threw away the tea and the lead lining, I only
reproved him and promised him punishment if he committed any other
wilful offence, but now he and another skulked behind and gave their
loads to a stranger to carry, with a promise to him that I would pay.
We waited two hours for them; and as the havildar said that they would
not obey him, I gave Perim and the other some smart cuts with a cane,
but I felt that I was degrading myself, and resolved not to do the
punishment myself again.
_8th July, 1866._--Hard travelling through a depopulated country. The
trees are about the size of hop-poles with abundance of tall grass;
the soil is sometimes a little sandy, at other times that reddish,
clayey sort which yields native grain so well. The rock seen uppermost
is often a ferruginous conglomerate, lying on granite rocks. The
gum-copal tree is here a mere bush, and no digging takes place for the
gum: it is called Mchenga, and yields gum when wounded, as also bark,
cloth, and cordage when stripped. Mountain masses are all around us;
we sleep at Linata mountain.
_9th July, 1866._--The Masuko fruit abounds: the name is the same here
as in the Batoka country; there are also rhododendrons of two species,
but the flowers white. We slept in a wild spot, near Mount Leziro,
with many lions roaring about us; one hoarse fellow serenaded us a
long time, but did nothing more. Game is said to be abundant, but we
saw none, save an occasional diver springing away from the path. Some
streams ran to the north-west to the Lismyando, which flows N. for the
Rovuma; others to the south-east for the Loendi.
_10th and 11th July, 1866._--Nothing to interest but the same weary
trudge: our food so scarce that we can only give a handful or half a
pound of grain to each person per day. The Masuko fruit is formed, but
not ripe till rains begin; very few birds are seen or heard, though
there is both food and water in the many grain-bearing grasses and
running streams, which we cross at the junction of every two ridges.
A dead body lay in a hut by the wayside; the poor thing had begun to
make a garden by the stream, probably in hopes of living long enough
(two months or so) on wild fruits to reap a crop of maize.
_12th July, 1866._--A drizzling mist set in during the night and
continued this morning, we set off in the dark, however, leaving our
last food for the havildar and sepoys who had not yet come up. The
streams are now of good size. An Arab brandy bottle was lying broken
in one village called Msapa. We hurried on as fast as we could to the
Luatizé, our last stage before getting to Mataka's; this stream is
rapid, about forty yards wide, waist deep, with many podostemons on
the bottom. The country gets more and more undulating and is covered
with masses of green foliage, chiefly Masuko trees, which have large
hard leaves. There are hippopotami further down the river on its way
to the Loendi. A little rice which had been kept for me I divided, but
some did not taste food.
_13th July, 1866._--A good many stragglers behind, but we push on to
get food and send it back to them. The soil all reddish clay, the
roads baked hard by the sun, and the feet of many of us are weary and
sore: a weary march and long, for it is perpetually up and down now. I
counted fifteen running streams in one day: they are at the bottom of
the valley which separates the ridges. We got to the brow of a ridge
about an hour from Mataka's first gardens, and all were so tired that
we remained to sleep; but we first invited volunteers to go on and buy
food, and bring it back early next morning: they had to be pressed to
do this duty.
_14th July, 1866._--As our volunteers did not come at 8 A.M., I set
off to see the cause, and after an hour of perpetual up and down
march, as I descended the steep slope which overlooks the first
gardens, I saw my friends start up at the apparition--they were
comfortably cooking porridge for themselves! I sent men of Mataka
back with food to the stragglers behind and came on to his town.
An Arab, Sef Rupia or Rubea, head of a large body of slaves, on his
way to the coast, most kindly came forward and presented an ox, bag of
flour, and some cooked meat, all of which were extremely welcome to
half-famished men, or indeed under any circumstances. He had heard of
our want of food and of a band of sepoys, and what could the English
think of doing but putting an end to the slave-trade? Had he seen our
wretched escort, all fear of them would have vanished! He had a large
safari or caravan under him. This body is usually divided into ten or
twelve portions, and all are bound to obey the leader to á certain
extent: in this case there were eleven parties, and the traders
numbered about sixty or seventy, who were dark coast Arabs. Each
underling had his men under him, and when I saw them they were busy
making the pens of branches in which their slaves and they sleep. Sef
came on with me to Mataka's, and introduced me in due form with
discharges of gunpowder. I asked him to come back next morning, and
presented three cloths with a request that he would assist the
havildar and sepoys, if he met them, with food: this he generously
did.
We found Mataka's town situated in an elevated valley surrounded by
mountains; the houses numbered at least 1000, and there were many
villages around. The mountains were pleasantly green, and had many
trees which the people were incessantly cutting down. They had but
recently come here: they were besieged by Mazitu at their former
location west of this; after fighting four days they left unconquered,
having beaten the enemy off.
Mataka kept us waiting some time in the verandah of his large square
house, and then made his appearance, smiling with his good-natured
face. He is about sixty years of age, dressed as an Arab, and if we
may judge from the laughter with which his remarks were always
greeted, somewhat humorous. He had never seen any but Arabs before. He
gave me a square house to live in, indeed the most of the houses here
are square, for the Arabs are imitated in everything: they have
introduced the English pea, and we were pleased to see large patches
of it in full bearing, and ripe in moist hollows which had been
selected for it. The numerous springs which come out at various parts
are all made use of. Those parts which are too wet are drained, whilst
beds are regularly irrigated by water-courses and ridges: we had
afterwards occasion to admire the very extensive draining which has
been effected among the hills. Cassava is cultivated on ridges along
all the streets in the town, which give it a somewhat regular and neat
appearance. Peas and tobacco were the chief products raised by
irrigation, but batatas and maize were often planted too: wheat would
succeed if introduced. The altitude is about 2700 feet above the sea:
the air at this time is cool, and many people have coughs.
Mataka soon sent a good mess of porridge and cooked meat (beef); he
has plenty of cattle and sheep: and the next day he sent abundance of
milk. We stand a good deal of staring unmoved, though it is often
accompanied by remarks by no means complimentary; they think that they
are not understood, and probably I do misunderstand sometimes. The
Waiyau jumble their words as I think, and Mataka thought that I did
not enunciate anything, but kept my tongue still when I spoke.
Town of Matak, Moembé. _15th July, 1866._--The safari under Sef set
off this morning for Kilwa. Sef says that about 100 of the Kilwa
people died this year, so slaving as well as philanthropy is
accompanied with loss of life: we saw about seven of their graves; the
rest died on the road up.
There are two roads from this to the Lake, one to Loséwa, which is
west of this, and opposite Kotakota; the other, to Makatu, is further
south: the first is five days through deserted country chiefly; but
the other, seven, among people and plenty of provisions all the way.
It struck me after Sef had numbered up the losses that the Kilwa
people sustained by death in their endeavours to «nslave people,
similar losses on the part of those who go to "proclaim liberty to the
captives, the opening of the prison to them that are bound,"--to save
and elevate, need not be made so very much of as they sometimes are.
Soon after our arrival we heard that a number of Mataka's Waiyau had,
without his knowledge, gone to Nyassa, and in a foray carried off
cattle and people: when they came home with the spoil, Mataka ordered
all to be sent back whence they came. The chief came up to visit me
soon after, and I told him that his decision was the best piece of
news I had heard in the country: he was evidently pleased with my
approbation, and, turning to his people, asked if they heard what I
said. He repeated my remark, and said, "You silly fellows think me
wrong in returning the captives, but all wise men will approve of it,"
and he then scolded them roundly.
I was accidentally spectator of this party going back, for on going
out of the town I saw a meat market opened, and people buying with
maize and meal. On inquiring, I was told that the people and cattle
there were the Nyassas, and they had slaughtered an ox, in order to
exchange meat for grain as provisions on the journey. The women and
children numbered fifty-four, and about a dozen boys were engaged in
milking the cows: the cattle were from twenty-five to thirty head.
The change from hard and scanty fare caused illness in several of our
party. I had tasted no animal food except what turtle-doves and
guinea-fowls could be shot since we passed Matawatawa,--true, a fowl
was given by Mtendé. The last march was remarkable for the scarcity of
birds, so eight days were spent on porridge and rice without relish.
I gave Mataka a trinket, to be kept in remembrance of his having sent
back the Nyassa people: he replied that he would always act in a
similar manner. As it was a spontaneous act, it was all the more
valuable.
The sepoys have become quite intolerable, and if I cannot get rid of
them we shall all starve before we accomplish what we wish. They
dawdle behind picking up wild fruits, and over our last march (which
we accomplished on the morning of the eighth day) they took from
fourteen to twenty-two days. Retaining their brutal feelings to the
last they killed the donkey which I lent to the havildar to carry his
things, by striking it on the head when in boggy places into which
they had senselessly driven it loaded; then the havildar came on (his
men pretending they could go no further from weakness), and killed the
young buffalo and eat it when they thought they could hatch up a
plausible story. They said it had died, and tigers came and devoured
it--they saw them. "Did you see the stripes of the tiger?" said I. All
declared that they saw the stripes distinctly. This gave us an idea of
their truthfulness, as there is no striped tiger in all Africa. All
who resolved on skulking or other bad behaviour invariably took up
with the sepoys; their talk seemed to suit evil-doers, and they were
such a disreputable-looking lot that I was quite ashamed of them. The
havildar had no authority, and all bore the sulky dogged look of
people going where they were forced but hated to go. This hang-dog
expression of countenance was so conspicuous that I many a time have
heard the country people remark, "These are the slaves of the party."
They have neither spirit nor pluck as compared with the Africans, and
if one saw a village he turned out of the way to beg in the most
abject manner, or lay down and slept, the only excuse afterwards
being, "My legs were sore." Having allowed some of them to sleep at
the fire in my house, they began a wholesale plunder of everything
they could sell, as cartridges, cloths, and meat, so I had to eject
them. One of them then threatened to shoot my interpreter Simon if he
got him in a quiet place away from the English power. As this threat
had been uttered three times, and I suspect that something of the kind
had prevented the havildar exerting his authority, I resolved to get
rid of them by sending them back to the coast by the first trader. It
is likely that some sympathizers will take their part, but I strove to
make them useful. They had but poor and scanty fare in a part of the
way, but all of us suffered alike. They made themselves thoroughly
disliked by their foul talk and abuse, and if anything tended more
than another to show me that theirs was a moral unfitness for travel,
it was the briskness assumed when they knew they were going back to
the coast. I felt inclined to force them on, but it would have been
acting from revenge, and to pay them out, so I forbore. I gave Mataka
forty-eight yards of calico, and to the sepoys eighteen yards, and
arranged that he should give them food till Suleiman, a respectable
trader, should arrive. He was expected every day, and we passed him
near the town. If they chose to go and get their luggage, it was of
course all safe for them behind. The havildar begged still to go on
with me, and I consented, though he is a drag on the party, but he
will count in any difficulty.
Abraham recognised his uncle among the crowds who came to see us. On
making himself known he found that his mother and two sisters had been
sold to the Arabs after he had been enslaved. The uncle pressed him to
remain, and Mataka urged, and so did another uncle, but in vain. I
added my voice, and could have given him goods to keep him afloat a
good while, but he invariably replied, "How can I stop where I have no
mother and no sister?" The affection seems to go to the maternal side.
I suggested that he might come after he had married a wife, but I fear
very much that unless some European would settle, none of these
Nassick boys will come to this country. It would be decidedly better
if they were taught agriculture in the simplest form, as the Indian.
Mataka would have liked to put his oxen to use, but Abraham could not
help him with that. He is a smith, or rather a nothing, for unless he
could smelt iron he would be entirely without materials to work with.
_14th-28th July, 1866._--One day, calling at Mataka's, I found as
usual a large crowd of idlers, who always respond with a laugh to
everything he utters as wit. He asked, if he went to Bombay what ought
he to take to secure some gold? I replied, "Ivory," he rejoined,
"Would slaves not be a good speculation?" I replied that, "if he took
slaves there for sale, they would put him in prison." The idea of the
great Mataka in "chokee" made him wince, and the laugh turned for once
against him. He said that as all the people from the coast crowd to
him, they ought to give him something handsome for being here to
supply their wants. I replied, if he would fill the fine well-watered
country we had passed over with people instead of sending them off to
Kilwa, he would confer a benefit on visitors, but we had been starved
on the way to him; and I then told him what the English would do in
road-making in a fine country like this. This led us to talk of
railways, ships, ploughing with oxen--the last idea struck him most. I
told him that I should have liked some of the Nassick boys to remain
and teach this and other things, but they might be afraid to venture
lest they should be sold again. The men who listened never heard such
decided protests against selling each other into slavery before!
The idea of guilt probably floated but vaguely in their minds, but
the loss of life we have witnessed (in the guilt of which the sellers
as well as the buyers participate) comes home very forcibly to their
minds.
Mataka has been an active hand in slave wars himself, though now he
wishes to settle down in quiet. The Waiyau generally are still the
most active agents the slave-traders have. The caravan leaders from
Kilwa arrive at a Waiyau village, show the goods they have brought,
are treated liberally by the elders, and told to wait and enjoy
themselves, slaves enough to purchase all will be procured: then a
foray is made against the Manganja, who have few or no guns. The
Waiyau who come against them are abundantly supplied with both by
their coast guests. Several of the low coast Arabs, who differ in
nothing from the Waiyau, usually accompany the foray, and do business
on their own account: this is the usual way in which a safari is
furnished with slaves.
Makanjela, a Waiyau chief about a third of the way from Mtendé's to
Mataka, has lost the friendship of all his neighbours by kidnapping
and selling their people; if any of Mataka's people are found in the
district between Makanjela and Moembé, they are considered fair game
and sold. Makanjela's people cannot piss Mataka to go to the Manganja,
so they do what they can by kidnapping and plundering all who fall
into their hands.
When I employed two of Mataka's people to go back on the 14th with
food to the havildar and sepoys, they went a little way and relieved
some, but would not venture as far as the Luatizé, for fear of losing
their liberty by Makanjela's people. I could not get the people of the
country to go back; nor could I ask the Nassick boys, who had been
threatened by the sepoys with assassination,--and it was the same with
the Johanna men, because, though Mahometans, the sepoys had called
them Caffirs, &c., and they all declared, "We are ready to do
anything for you, but we will do nothing for these Hindis." I sent
back a sepoy, giving him provisions; he sat down in the first village,
ate all the food, and returned.
An immense tract of country lies uninhabited. To the north-east of
Moembé we have at least fifty miles of as fine land as can be seen
anywhere, still bearing all the marks of having once supported a
prodigious iron-smelting and grain-growing population. The clay pipes
which are put on the nozzles of their bellows and inserted into the
furnace are met with everywhere--often vitrified. Then the ridges on
which they planted maize, beans, cassava, and sorghum, and which they
find necessary to drain off the too abundant moisture of the rains,
still remain unlevelled to attest the industry of the former
inhabitants; the soil being clayey, resists for a long time the
influence of the weather. These ridges are very regular, for in
crossing the old fields, as the path often compels us to do, one foot
treads regularly on the ridge, and the other in the hollow, for a
considerable distance. Pieces of broken pots, with their rims
ornamented with very good imitations of basket-work, attest that the
lady potters of old followed the example given them by their still
more ancient mothers,--their designs are rude, but better than we can
make them without referring to the original.
[Illustration: Imitation of basket-work in Pottery.]
No want of water has here acted to drive the people away, as has been
the case further south. It is a perpetual succession of ridge and
valley, with a running stream or oozing bog, where ridge is separated
from ridge: the ridges become steeper and narrower as we approach
Mataka's.
I counted fifteen running burns of from one to ten yards wide in one
day's march of about six hours; being in a hilly or rather mountainous
region, they flow rapidly and have plenty of water-power. In July any
mere torrent ceases to flow, but these were brawling burns with water
too cold (61°) for us to bathe in whose pores were all open by the
relaxing regions nearer the coast. The sound, so un-African, of
gushing water dashing over rocks was quite familiar to our ears.
This district, which rises up west of Mataka's to 3400 feet above the
sea, catches a great deal of the moisture brought up by the easterly
winds. Many of the trees are covered with lichens. While here we had
cold southerly breezes, and a sky so overcast every day after 10 A.M.,
that we could take no astronomical observations: even the latitude was
too poor to be much depended on. 12° 53' S. may have been a few miles
from this.
The cattle, rather a small breed, black and white in patches, and
brown, with humps, give milk which is duly prized by these Waiyau. The
sheep are the large-tailed variety, and generally of a black colour.
Fowls and pigeons are the only other domestic animals we see, if we
except the wretched village dogs which our-poodle had immense delight
in chasing.
The Waiyau are far from a handsome race, but they are not the
prognathous beings one sees on the West Coast either. Their heads are
of a round shape; compact foreheads, but not particularly receding;
the alae nasi are flattened out; lips full, and with the women a small
lip-ring just turns them up to give additional thickness. Their style
of beauty is exactly that which was in fashion when the stone deities
were made in the caves of Elephanta and Kenora near Bombay. À
favourite mode of dressing the hair into little knobs, which was in
fashion there, is more common in some tribes than in this. The mouths
of the women would not be so hideous with a small lip-ring if they did
not file their teeth to points, but they seem strong and able for the
work which falls to their lot. The men are large, strong-boned
fellows, and capable of enduring great fatigue, they undergo a rite
which once distinguished the Jews about the age of puberty, and take a
new name on the occasion; this was not introduced by the Arabs, whose
advent is a recent event, and they speak of the time before they were
inundated with European manufactures in exchange for slaves, as quite
within their memory.
Young Mataka gave me a dish of peas, and usually brought something
every time he made a visit, he seems a nice boy, and his father, in
speaking of learning to read, said he and his companions could learn,
but he himself was too old. The soil seems very fertile, for the sweet
potatoes become very large, and we bought two loads of them for three
cubits and two needles; they quite exceeded 1 cwt. The maize becomes
very large too; one cob had 1600 seeds. The abundance of water, the
richness of soil, the available labour for building square houses, the
coolness of the climate, make this nearly as desirable a residence as
Magomero; but, alas! instead of three weeks' easy sail up the Zambesi
and Shiré, we have spent four weary months in getting here: I shall
never cease bitterly to lament the abandonment of the Magomero
mission.
Moaning seems a favourite way of spending the time with some sick
folk. For the sake of the warmth, I allowed a Nassick boy to sleep in
my house; he and I had the same complaint, dysentery, and I was
certainly worse than he, but did not moan, while he played at it as
often as he was awake. I told him that people moaned only when too ill
to be sensible of what they were doing; the groaning ceased, though
he became worse.
Three sepoys played at groaning very vigorously outside my door; they
had nothing the matter with them, except perhaps fatigue, which we all
felt alike; as these fellows prevented my sleeping, I told them quite
civilly that, if so ill that they required to groan, they had better
move off a little way, as I could not sleep; they preferred the
verandah, and at once forbore.
The abundance of grain and other food is accompanied by great numbers
of rats or large mice, which play all manner of pranks by night; white
ants have always to be guarded against likewise. Anyone who would find
an antidote to drive them away would confer a blessing; the natural
check is the driver ant, which when it visits a house is a great pest
for a time, but it clears the others out.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] There is a double purpose in these murders; the terror inspired
in the minds of the survivors spurs them on to endure the hardships of
the march: the Portuese drivers are quite alive to the merits of this
stimulus.--ED.
[13] A tribal distinction turns on the customs prevailing with respect
to animal food, _e.g._ one tribe will eat the elephant, the next looks
on such flesh as unclean, and so with other meat. The neighbouring
Manganja gladly eat the leopard and hyaena.--ED.
[14] A coloured cloth manufactured expressly for barter in East
Africa.
[15] This is pronounced "Y-yow."--ED.