Tippu-Tib’s henchmen—In the primeval forest, a wilderness of
trees—Primitive furniture—Our sufferings in the pagans’
forest—Tippu-Tib breaks down—A village blacksmith—Soko skulls; the
missing link—Professor Huxley’s opinion thereon—THE LIVINGSTONE—A
day dream—The road to the ocean—Timid counsels—“The Wasambye!”—“Ooh-
hu! ooh-hu!”—Successful diplomacy.
_Nov. 5._—When, on the 5th of November, 1876, we had left Nyangwé behind
us, and had ascended an elevated grassy ridge, we saw before us a black
curving wall of forest, which, beginning from the river bank, extended
south-east, until hills and distance made it indistinct.
I turned round to look at Nyangwé, which we were leaving. How loveable
and cheerful it appeared as it crowned the shoulder of one of those
lengthy grassy undulations overlooking the grey-brown Livingstone! How
bright and warm appeared the plain-border of the river as the sun shone
over its wind-fanned waves of grass! Even the hill-cones of Uzura and
Western Manyema ranked in line between the forest and the grassy plain,
which were now purpling and becoming like cloud-forms, seemed to me to
have a more friendly and brighter appearance than the cold blackness of
the dense forest which rose before us to the north!
What a forbidding aspect had the Dark Unknown which confronted us! I
could not comprehend in the least what lay before us. Even the few names
which I had heard from the Arabs conveyed no definite impression to my
understanding. What were Tata, Meginna, Uregga, Usongora Meno and such
uncouth names to me? They conveyed no idea, and signified no object;
they were barren names of either countries, villages, or peoples,
involved in darkness, savagery, ignorance, and fable.
Yet it is our destiny to move on, whatever direction it may be that that
narrow winding path, running among tall grasses, and down into gullies
and across small streams, takes us, until we penetrate that cold, dark,
still horizon before us, and emerge whithersoever the narrow path will
permit us—a distance of 240 hours’ travel.
The object of the desperate journey is to flash a torch of light across
the western half of the Dark Continent. For from Nyangwé east, along the
fourth parallel of south latitude, are some 830 geographical miles,
discovered, explored, and surveyed, but westward to the Atlantic Ocean
along the same latitude are 956 miles—over 900 geographical miles of
which are absolutely unknown. Instead, however, of striking direct west,
we are about to travel north on the eastern side of the river, to
prevent it bending easterly to Muta Nzigé, or Nilewards, unknown to us,
and to ascertain, if the river really runs westward, what affluents flow
to it from the east; and to deduce from their size and volume some idea
of the extent of country which they drain, and the locality of their
sources.
A thousand things may transpire to prevent the accomplishment of our
purpose: hunger, disease, and savage hostility may crush us; perhaps,
after all, the difficulties may daunt us, but our hopes run high, and
our purpose is lofty; then in the name of God let us set on, and as He
pleases, so let Him rule our destinies!
After journeying a distance of nine miles and a half north-east, over a
rolling plain covered with grass, we arrived at the villages of
Nakasimbi; Tippu-Tib, with 700 people, men, women, and children,
occupying two villages, while our Expedition occupied another
overlooking a depression drained by a sluggish affluent of the Kunda
river.
Tippu-Tib is accompanied by about a dozen Arabs, young or middle-aged,
who have followed him in the hope of being rewarded by him or myself at
the end of a prosperous journey.
Sheikh Hamed bin Mohammed, alias Tippu-Tib, alias Mtipula, we know
already. To-day he is bland and courteous, enthusiastic, and sanguine
that we shall succeed without trouble. The next in importance to him is
an Arab—full-bearded, fine-featured, of a dark complexion, called Sheikh
Abdallah, alias Muini Kibwana—a name adopted solely for Manyema. He is
very ignorant, can neither read nor write, but has a vast regard for
those who have mastered the secrets of literature, like Tippu-Tib. He is
armed with a flintlock Brummagem musket, for which he has considerable
affection, because—according to him—it has saved his life many a time.
“It never lies.”
The next is Muini Ibrahim, a Mrima (coast) man, of Arab descent, though
ruder and unpolished. Americans would have nothing much to do with him,
because the negroid evidences are so great that he would be classed as a
full-blooded negro. Yet he speaks Arabic well, and is a fervid Muslim,
but withal as superstitious as any primitive African. He affects to be
religious, and consequently is not bloodthirsty, having some regard for
the lives of human beings, and for this receiving due praise from me. He
is also armed with a flintlock musket. Sheikh Abdallah and he are bosom
friends, and possess five or six female slaves each, and from thirty to
forty male slaves, likewise armed with flintlocks.
Tippu-Tib’s Arab dependants, who dip their hands in the same porridge
and meat-dish with the independent Sheikh Abdallah and Muini Ibrahim,
consist of Muini Jumah (Master Friday), a nervous, tall young man;
Chéché (Weasel) a short, light-complexioned young man of twenty-five
years of age; Bwana Abed bin Jumah, the author of the dwarf story, who
has consented to act as our guide; Muini Hamadi, a half-caste man of
sturdy form and resolute appearance; and six or seven others of no
special individuality or importance, except as so many dependants of
Tippu-Tib.
The 700 followers who follow our Expedition at present consist of two
parties; one party, composed of 300 men, women, and children, and
commanded by Bwana Shokka (master of the axe), the confidential man of
Tippu-Tib’s staff, of great strength, tall and gaunt of person, and a
renowned traveller; a man of great tact, and worth a fortune to his
master, as he is exceedingly cool, speaks slowly, and by some rare gift
conciliates the savages (when not actually attacked on the road), and
makes them friends. In a few days he is to part from us, striking north-
easterly for some dozen marches, the utmost reach of Arab intercourse.
The 400 who are to accompany us for a distance of sixty camps consist of
about 250 men—Arabs, half-castes, Wangwana, 100 Wanyamwezi, Ruga-
Ruga—mostly armed with spears and bows and arrows; others possess
flintlocks. One hundred men consist of Barua, Manyema, Bakusu, Ba-Samba,
and Utotera slaves; most of these slaves are armed with flintlocks, the
others with formidable spears and shields There are also about fifty
youths, ranging from ten to eighteen years of age, being trained by
Tippu-Tib as gunbearers, house servants, scouts, cooks, carpenters,
house-builders, blacksmiths, and leaders of trading parties. Meanwhile
such young fellows are useful to him; they are more trustworthy than
adults, because they look up to him as their father; and know that if
they left him they would inevitably be captured by a less humane man.
The remainder of this motley force consists of women, twenty of whom
belong to the household of Tippu-Tib, all purchased with ivory, guns,
cloth, or beads. Thirty women are the properties of the Arab dependants,
chiefly half-castes and Wangwana, following Tippu-Tib.
Two hundred and ten out of the 400 I have pledged to support until they
shall return to Nyangwé, at the same rate of ration currency that may be
distributed to the members of our Expedition.
_Nov. 6._—On the 6th of November we drew nearer to the dreaded black and
chill forest called Mitamba, and at last, bidding farewell to sunshine
and brightness, entered it.
We had made one mistake—we had not been up early enough. Tippu-Tib’s
heterogeneous column of all ages were ahead of us, and its want of order
and compactness became a source of trouble to us in the rear.
We, accustomed to rapid marching, had to stand in our places minutes at
a time, waiting patiently for an advance of a few yards, after which
would come another halt, and another short advance to be again halted.
And all this time the trees kept shedding their dew upon us like rain in
great round drops. Every leaf seemed weeping. Down the boles and
branches, creepers and vegetable cords, the moisture trickled and fell
on us. Overhead the wide-spreading branches, in many interlaced strata,
each branch heavy with broad thick leaves, absolutely shut out the
daylight. We knew not whether it was a sunshiny day or a dull, foggy,
gloomy day; for we marched in a feeble solemn twilight, such as you may
experience in temperate climates an hour after sunset. The path soon
became a stiff clayey paste, and at every step we splashed water over
the legs of those in front, and on either side of us.
To our right and left, to the height of about twenty feet, towered the
undergrowth, the lower world of vegetation. The soil on which this
thrives is a dark-brown vegetable humus, the débris of ages of rotting
leaves and fallen branches, a very forcing-bed of vegetable life, which,
constantly fed with moisture, illustrates in an astonishing degree the
prolific power of the warm moist shades of the tropics.
The stiff clay lying under this mould, being impervious, retains the
moisture which constantly supplies the millions of tiny roots of herb,
plant and bush. The innumerable varieties of plants which spring up with
such marvellous rapidity, if exposed to the gale, would soon be laid
prostrate. But what rude blast can visit these imprisoned shades? The
tempest might roar without the leafy world, but in its deep bosom there
is absolute stillness. One has but to tug at a sapling to know that the
loose mould has no retentive power, and that the sapling’s roots have
not penetrated the clays. Even the giants of the forest have not
penetrated very deeply, as one may see by the half-exposed roots; they
appear to retain their upright positions more by breadth of base than by
their grasp of earth.
Every few minutes we found ourselves descending into ditches, with
streams trending towards the Kunda river, discharged out of leafy depths
of date-palms, Amoma, Carpodinæ, and Phrynia. Climbing out from these
streams, up their steep banks our faces were brushed by the broad leaves
of the Amomum, or the wild banana, ficus of various kinds, and climbing,
crawling, obstructing lengths of wild vines.
Naturally our temper was not improved by this new travelling. The dew
dropped and pattered on us incessantly until about 10 A.M. Our clothes
were heavily saturated with it. My white sun-helmet and puggaree
appeared to be weighted with lead. Being too heavy, and having no use
for it in the cool dank shades, I handed it to my gun-bearer, for my
clothes, gaiters, and boots, which creaked loudly with the water that
had penetrated them, were sufficient weight for me to move with. Added
to this vexation was the perspiration which exuded from every pore, for
the atmosphere was stifling. The steam from the hot earth could be seen
ascending upward and settling like a grey cloud above our heads. In the
early morning it had been so dense that we could scarcely distinguish
the various trees by their leafage.
At 3 P.M. we had reached Mpotira, in the district of Uzimba, Manyema,
twenty-one miles and a half from the Arab depot on the Lualaba.
The poor boatmen did not arrive until evening, for the boat
sections—dreadful burdens—had to be driven like blunted ploughs through
the depths of foliage. The men complained bitterly of fatigue, and for
their sake we rested at Mpotira.
The nature of the next two days’ experiences through the forest may be
gathered by reading the following portions of entries in my journal:—
“_November 8._—N. ½ W., nine miles to district of Karindi, or Kionga,
Uregga.
“We have had a fearful time of it to-day in these woods, and Bwana
Shokka, who has visited this region before, declares with superior pride
that what we have experienced as yet is only a poor beginning to the
weeks upon weeks which we shall have to endure. Such crawling,
scrambling, tearing through the damp, dank jungles, and such height and
depth of woods!... Once we obtained a side-long view from a tree on the
crown of a hill, over the wild woods on our left, which swept in
irregular waves of branch and leaf down to the valley of the Lualaba.
Across the Lualaba, on the western bank, we looked with wistful eyes on
what appeared to be green grassy plains. Ah, what a contrast to that
which we had to endure! It was a wild weird scene, this outlook we
obtained of the top of the leafy world!... It was so dark sometimes in
the woods that I could not see the words, recording notes of the track,
which I pencilled in my note-book. At 3.30 P.M. we arrived in camp,
quite worn out with the struggle through the intermeshed bush, and
almost suffocated with the heavy atmosphere. Oh, for a breath of
mountain air!”
“_November 9, 1876._—N. ½ W., ten and a half miles’ march to Kiussi,
Uregga.
“Another difficult day’s work in the forest and jungle. Our Expedition
is no longer the compact column which was my pride. It is utterly
demoralized. Every man scrambles as he best may through the woods; the
path, being over a clayey soil, is so slippery that every muscle is
employed to assist our progress. The toes grasp the path, the head bears
the load, the hand clears the obstructing bush, the elbow puts aside the
sapling. Yesterday the boatmen complained so much that I organized all
the chiefs into a pioneer party, with axes to clear the path. Of course
we could not make a wide road. There were many prostrate giants fallen
across the path, each with a mountain of twigs and branches, compelling
us to cut roads through the bush a long distance to get round them. My
boat-bearers are utterly wearied out.”
[Illustration: UREGGA HOUSE.]
_Nov. 10._—On the 10th we halted for a well-deserved rest. We were now
in Uregga—the forest country. Fenced round by their seldom penetrated
woods, the Waregga have hitherto led lives as secluded as the troops of
chimpanzees in their forest. Their villages consist of long rows of
houses, all connected together in one block from 50 yards to 300 yards
in length. The doorways are square apertures in the walls, only 2 feet
square, and cut at about 18 inches above the ground. Within, the long
block is divided into several apartments for the respective families.
Like the Manyema houses, the roofs glisten as though smeared with coal-
tar. There are shelves for fuel, and netting for swinging their
crockery; into the roof are thrust the various small knick-knacks which
such families need—the pipe, and bunch of tobacco-leaves, the stick of
dried snails, various mysterious compounds wrapped in leaves of plants,
pounded herbs, and what not. Besides these we noted, as household
treasures, the skins of goats, mongoose or civet, weasel, wild cat,
monkey, and leopard, shells of land snails, very large and prettily
marked, and necklaces of the _Achatina monetaria_. There is also quite a
store of powdered camwood, besides curiously carved bits of wood,
supposed to be talismans against harm, and handsome spoons, while over
the door are also horns of goats and small forest deer, and, occupying
conspicuous places, the gaudy war head-dress of feathers of the grey-
bodied and crimson-tailed parrots, the drum, and some heavy broad-bladed
spears with ironwood staffs.
[Illustration: STOOL OF UREGGA.]
[Illustration: SPOONS OF UREGGA.]
[Illustration: UREGGA SPEAR.]
[Illustration: CANE SETTEE.]
In the “arts and sciences” of savage life, these exceedingly primitive
Africans, buried though they have been from all intercourse with others,
are superior in some points to many tribes more favourably situated. For
instance, until the day I arrived at Kiussi village, I had not observed
a settee. Yet in the depths of this forest of Uregga every family
possessed a neatly made water-cane settee, which would seat comfortably
three persons.
[Illustration: BENCH.]
Another very useful article of furniture was the bench 4 or 5 feet long,
cut out of a single log of the white soft wood of one of the Rubiaceæ,
and significant as showing a more sociable spirit than that which seems
to govern Eastern Africans, among whom the rule is, “Every man to his
own stool.”
Another noteworthy piece of furniture is the fork of a tree, cut off
where the branches begin to ramify. This, when trimmed and peeled, is
placed in an inverted position. The branches, sometimes three or even
four, serve as legs of a singular back-rest.
The southern Waregga who border upon Uzimba and Manyema say they came
from the north some five or six generations ago; that they found the
forest in possession of the Wavinza and Wazimba, and dispossessed them
of the land. They retain the names of their forefathers from six to ten
generations back. Sheikh Abdallah questioned the chief of Kiussi in my
presence of his forefathers, and he gave in succession ten different
names in answer to questions such as these: “What is your name?” “Who
was your father?” and “Whose son was he?” “Then who was his father?”
All the adult males wear skull-caps of goat or monkey-skin, except the
chief and elders, whose heads were covered with the aristocratic
leopard-skin, with the tail of the leopard hanging down the back like a
tassel.
[Illustration:
AN AFRICAN FEZ OF
LEOPARD-SKIN.
]
The women were weighted with massive and bright iron rings. One of them,
who was probably a lady of importance, carried at least 12 lbs. of iron
and 5 lbs. of copper rings on her arms and legs, besides a dozen
necklaces of the indigenous _Achatina monetaria_.
From Kiussi, through the same dense jungle and forest, with its
oppressive atmosphere and its soul-wearying impediments, we made a
journey of fourteen miles to Mirimo. Four streams were crossed, all
trending westward to the Lualaba, the two principal being the Rugunsi
and Rumuna rivers. Mirimo is a populous settlement, and its people are
good natured.
The boatmen did not arrive at all on this day, the obstacles having been
too great, but on the 12th, about noon, they appeared, utterly
disheartened at the delays which had deprived them of their food and
rest.
_Nov. 13._—On the 13th we moved to Wanekamankua, crossing _en route_ the
Kariba river and two small streams.
_Nov. 14._—Our next march was to Wane-Mbeza, in Uregga, eight miles in a
north-westerly direction. We crossed the Kipembwé, a river 40 yards
wide, deep and swift, which flows westward.
Uregga, it appears, occupies a broad belt of country lying north-east
and south-west. Its people know nothing of the immediate settlements
contiguous to them, and though within twenty miles of the Lualaba, many
adult males at Wane-Mbeza had never seen it. They have been imprisoned
now for some five or six generations within their almost impenetrable
forest fastnesses, and the difficulty of travelling, and the danger that
would be incurred unless they united in strong bands, are the causes of
their knowing nothing of the world outside, and the outside world
knowing nothing of them.
The Wangwana began at this place to murmur loudly, while the boatmen,
though assisted by a dozen supernumeraries, and preceded by a gang of
pioneers, were becoming perfectly savage; but the poor fellows had
certainly cause for discontent. I pitied them from my soul, yet I dared
not show too great a solicitude, lest they should have presumed upon it,
and requested me either to return to Nyangwé or to burn my boat.
Even Tippu-Tib, whom I anxiously watched, as on him I staked all my
hopes and prospects, murmured. Sheikh Abdallah was heard to growl
ominously, and Bwana Ibrahim was particularly severe in his remarks upon
“the pagans’ forest.” The evil atmosphere created sickness in the Arab
escort, but all my people maintained their health, if not their temper.
At this camp we parted from Bwana Shokka and his 300, who were about to
penetrate some eight or ten marches more to the north-east to Tata
country. I have a suspicion that “Tata” is not a proper name, but that
it simply signifies “farther in.”
_Nov. 15._—On the 15th we marched six miles and a half to Wane-Kirumbu.
From this village, which, like all the villages that we had passed,
crowned a hill, we obtained the most extended view we had enjoyed since
entering the forest. Towards the north and north-east the outlook was
over a jumble of forest-clad hills separating narrow and deep valleys.
The view was indeed most depressing and portentous.
Our march, short as it was, was full of incidents. The constant slush
and reek which the heavy dews caused in the forest through which we had
travelled the last ten days had worn my shoes out, and half of the march
I travelled with naked feet. I had then to draw out of my store my last
pair of shoes. Frank was already using his last pair. Yet we were still
in the very centre of the continent. What should we do when all were
gone? was a question which we asked of each other often.
The faces of the people, Arabs, Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, and the escort,
were quite a study at this camp. All their courage was oozing out, as
day by day we plodded through the doleful, dreary forest. We saw a
python 10 feet long, a green viper, and a monstrous puff-adder on this
march, besides scores of monkeys, of the white-necked or glossy black
species, as also the small grey, and the large howling baboons. We heard
also the “soko” or chimpanzee, and saw one “nest” belonging to it in the
fork of a tall bombax. A lemur was also observed; its loud harsh cries
made each night hideous.
The path presented myriapedes, black and brown, 6 inches in length,
while beetles were innumerable, and armies of the deep brown “hot-water”
ants compelled us to be cautious how we stepped.
The difficulties of such travel as we had now commenced may be imagined
when a short march of six miles and a half occupied the twenty-four men
who were carrying the boat sections an entire day, and so fatigued them
that we had to halt another day at Wane-Kirumbu, to recruit their
exhausted strength.
The terrible undergrowth that here engrossed all the space under the
shade of the pillared bombax and mast-like mvulé was a miracle of
vegetation. It consisted of ferns, spear-grass, water-cane, and
orchidaceous plants mixed with wild vines, cable thicknesses of the
_Ficus elastica_, and a sprinkling of mimosas, acacias, tamarinds;
llianes, palms of various species, wild date, _Raphia vinifera_, the
elais, the fan, rattans, and a hundred other varieties, all struggling
for every inch of space, and swarming upward with a luxuriance and
density that only this extraordinary hothouse atmosphere could nourish.
We had certainly seen forests before, but this scene was an epoch in our
lives ever to be remembered for its bitterness; the gloom enhanced the
dismal misery of our life; the slopping moisture, the unhealthy reeking
atmosphere, and the monotony of the scenes; nothing but the eternal
interlaced branches, the tall aspiring stems, rising from a tangle
through which we had to burrow and crawl like wild animals, on hands and
feet.
_Nov. 16._—About 9 A.M. Tippu-Tib and the Arabs came to my hut at Wane-
Kirumbu. After a long preamble, wherein he described the hardships of
the march, Tippu-Tib concluded by saying that he had come to announce
his wish that our contract should be dissolved!
In a moment it flashed on my mind that a crisis had arrived. Was the
Expedition to end here? I urged with all my powers the necessity for
keeping engagements so deliberately entered into.
“It is of no use,” Tippu-Tib replied, “to have two tongues. Look at it
how you may, those sixty camps will occupy us at the rate we are
travelling over a year, and it will take as much time to return. I never
was in this forest before, and I had no idea there was such a place in
the world; but the air is killing my people, it is insufferable. You
will kill your own people if you go on. They are grumbling every day
more and more. This country was not made for travel; it was made for
vile pagans, monkeys, and wild beasts. I cannot go farther.”
“Will Tippu-Tib then return to Nyangwé, and break his word and bond?
What will all the Arabs at Nyangwé, Mwana Mamba, and Kasongo’s say when
they hear that Tippu-Tib, who was the first Arab to penetrate Rua,
proceeded only a few days with his friend, and then returned?”
“Show me a man’s work, and I will do it.”
“Well, look here, Tippu-Tib. The land on the west bank of the Lualaba is
more open than this, and the road that Mtagamoyo took to go to the
Lumami is on that side. Though the land is more open, I hear that the
people are worse there than on this side. However, we are not Mtagamoyo,
and they may behave better with us. Let us try the other side.
“Now, I will give you choice of two contracts. Accompany me to the
river, and wait while I transport my people across, and I will give you
500 dollars; or accompany me twenty marches farther along the west bank,
and I will give you 2600 dollars. At the end of that time, if you see
your way clear, I will engage you for another journey, until I am quite
satisfied that I can go no farther. Provisions will be given your people
until we part, and from that point back to Nyangwé.”
For two hours I plied him with arguments, and at last, when I was nearly
exhausted, Tippu-Tib consented to accompany me twenty marches farther,
beginning from the camp we were in. It was a fortunate thing indeed for
me that he agreed to this, as his return so close to Nyangwé in the
present dispirited condition of my people’s minds would have undoubtedly
ensured the destruction of all my hopes.
The natives of Uregga are not liberally disposed. Wane-Kirumbu’s chief
was the first who consented to exchange gifts with me. He presented me
with a chicken and some bananas, and I reciprocated the gift with five
cowries, which he accepted without a murmur. On witnessing this pleasing
and most uncommon trait of moderation, I presented him with ten more,
which appeared to him so bounteous that he left my presence quite
affected, indeed almost overcome by his emotions of gratitude.
The men of these forest communities of Uregga, upon the decease of their
wives, put on symbols of mourning, namely, a thick daub of charcoal
paste over the face, which they retain for five “years”—two and a half
European years. Widows also mourn for their husbands a like period, with
the same disfigurement of features, but with the addition of bands of
sere leaf of the banana round the forehead. In Uzimba and Manyema, of
North Luama districts, the mourning only lasts two native years, or one
European year.
[Illustration: A FORGE AND SMITHY AT WANE-KIRUMBU, UREGGA.]
At Wane-Kirumbu we found a large native forge and smithy, where there
were about a dozen smiths busily at work. The iron ore is very pure.
Here were the broad-bladed spears of Southern Uregga, and equally broad
knives of all sizes, from the small waist knife, an inch and a half in
length, to the heavy Roman sword-like cleaver. The bellows for the
smelting furnace are four in number, double-handled, and manned by four
men, who, by a quick up and down motion, supply a powerful blast, the
noise of which is heard nearly half a mile from the scene. The furnace
consists of tamped clay, raised into a mound about 4 feet high. A hollow
is then excavated in it, 2 feet in diameter and 2 feet deep. From the
middle of the slope four apertures are excavated into the base of the
furnace, into which are fitted funnel-shaped earthenware pipes to convey
the blasts to the fire. At the base of the mound a wide aperture for the
hearth is excavated, penetrating below the furnace. The hearth receives
the dross and slag.
Close by stood piled up mat-sacks of charcoal, with a couple of boys
ready to supply the fuel, and about two yards off was a smaller smithy,
where the iron was shaped into hammers, axes, war-hatchets, spears,
knives, swords, wire, iron balls with spikes, leglets, armlets, and iron
beads, &c. The art of the blacksmith is of a high standard in these
forests, considering the loneliness of the inhabitants. The people have
much traditional lore, and it appears from the immunity which they have
enjoyed in these dismal retreats that, from one generation to another,
something has been communicated and learned, showing that even the
jungle man is a progressive and an improvable animal.
_Nov. 17._—On the 17th of November we crossed several lofty hilly
ridges, separated by appallingly gloomy ravines, through which several
clear streams flowed westward, and after a march of eleven miles north-
westerly through the dank, dripping forests, arrived at Kampunzu, in the
district of Uvinza, where dwell the true aborigines of the forest
country.
Kampunzu village is about five hundred yards in length, formed of one
street thirty feet wide, flanked on each side by a straight,
symmetrical, and low block of houses, gable-roofed. Several small
villages in the neighbourhood are of the same pattern.
The most singular feature of Kampunzu village were two rows of skulls,
ten feet apart, running along the entire length of the village, imbedded
about two inches deep in the ground, the “cerebral hemispheres”
uppermost, bleached, and glistening white from weather. The skulls were
186 in number in this one village. To me they appeared to be human,
though many had an extraordinary projection of the posterior lobes,
others of the parietal bones, and the frontal bones were unusually low
and retreating; yet the sutures and the general aspect of the greatest
number of them were so similar to what I believed to be human, that it
was with almost an indifferent air that I asked my chiefs and Arabs what
these skulls were. They replied, “sokos”—chimpanzees (?).
“Sokos from the forest?”
“Certainly,” they all replied.
“Bring the chief of Kampunzu to me immediately,” I said, much interested
now because of the wonderful reports of them that Livingstone had given
me, as also the natives of Manyema.
The chief of Kampunzu—a tall, strongly-built man of about thirty-five
years of age—appeared, and I asked,
“My friend, what are those things with which you adorn the street of
your village?”
He replied, “Nyama” (meat).
“Nyama! Nyama of what?”
“Nyama of the forest.”
“Of the forest! What kind of thing is this Nyama of the forest?”
“It is about the size of this boy,” pointing to Mabruki, my gun-bearer,
who was 4 feet 10 inches in height. “He walks like a man, and goes about
with a stick, with which he beats the trees in the forest, and makes
hideous noises. The Nyama eat our bananas, and we hunt them, kill them,
and eat them.”
“Are they good eating?” I asked.
He laughed, and replied that they were very good.
“Would you eat one if you had one now?”
“Indeed I would. Shall a man refuse meat?”
“Well, look here. I have one hundred cowries here. Take your men, and
fetch one, and bring him to me alive or dead. I only want his skin and
head. You may have the meat.”
Kampunzu’s chief, before he set out with his men, brought me a portion
of the skin of one, which probably covered the back. The fur was dark
grey, an inch long, with the points inclined to white; a line of darker
hair marked the spine. This, he assured me, was a portion of the skin of
a “soko.” He also showed me a cap made out of it, which I purchased.
The chief returned about evening unsuccessful from the search. He wished
us to remain two or three days that he might set traps for the “sokos,”
as they would be sure to visit the bananas at night. Not being able to
wait so many days, I obtained for a few cowries the skull of a male and
another of a female.[9]
-----
Footnote 9:
These two skulls were safely brought to England, and shown to
Professor Huxley, who has passed judgment upon them as follows:—
“Of the two skulls submitted to me for examination, the one is that of
a man probably somewhat under thirty years of age, and the other that
of a woman over fifty.
“The man’s skull exhibits all the characteristic peculiarities of the
negro type, including a well-marked, but not unusual, degree of
prognathism. In the female skull the only point worth notice is a
somewhat unusual breadth of the anterior nasal aperture in proportion
to its height, indicating that the nostrils may have been slightly
farther apart, and the extremity of the nose a little flatter than
usual.
“In both skulls the cephalic index is 75. Nothing in these skulls
justifies the supposition that their original possessors differed in
any sensible degree from the ordinary African negro.”
Professor Huxley, by the above, startles me with the proof that
Kampunzu’s people were cannibals, for at least one half of the number
of skulls seen by me bore the mark of a hatchet, which had been driven
into the head while the victims were alive.
-----
In this village were also observed those carved benches cut out of the
Rubiaceæ already mentioned, backgammon trays, and stools carved in the
most admirable manner, all being decorated around the edges of the seats
with brass tacks and “soko teeth.”
[Illustration: BACKGAMMON TRAY.]
Copper appeared to be abundant with the Wavinza. It was wound around
their spear-staffs, and encircled the lower limbs and arms, the handles
of their knives, walking-staffs, and hung from their necks in beads, and
small shot-like balls of it were fastened to their hair.
In addition to their short broad-bladed spears, the Wavinza were armed
with small but strong bows, the strings of which were formed of strips
of the rattan cane. The arrows are about a foot in length, made of
reeds, pointed, and smeared with vegetable poison. The Wavinza do not
employ iron heads. It requires a peculiar skill for these weapons. The
Wanyamwezi bowmen were unable to shoot the arrows farther than from
fifty to seventy yards. An aboriginal, smiling at their awkwardness,
shot an arrow a distance of 200 yards. The natives boast that the
slightest scratch is sufficient to doom even an elephant, for it is by
this means they have been able to obtain ivory for Molembalemba (Dugumbi
of Nyangwé).
Blood-brotherhood being considered as a pledge of goodwill and peace
Frank Pocock and the chief went through the ordeal, and we interchanged
presents.
From this village a path leads to Meginna and Miango, near the Urindi
river, on the south side of which the Arabs say there is abundance of
coal, “very black and shining.” A path also leads north-east to Kirari,
four hours’, and Makongo, seven hours’ distance from Kampunzu. They also
say that a two months’ journey east-north-east (magnetic) would bring us
to open country, where there is abundance of cattle.
The women of Uregga wear only aprons 4 inches square, of bark or grass
cloth, fastened by cords of palm fibre. The men wear skins of civet, or
monkey, in front and rear, the tails downwards. It may have been from a
hasty glance of a rapidly disappearing form of one of these people in
the wild woods that native travellers in the lake regions felt persuaded
that they had seen “men with tails.”
The ficus trees, which supply Uganda, Unyamwezi, Ukonongo, Goma, and
Uregga with bark cloth, register the age of the respective settlements
where they are found, and may be said to be historical monuments of the
people which planted them. In Uddu-Uganda, especially in Southern Uddu,
I saw patriarchs which must have been four or five hundred years old. If
a cloth-producing ficus is 2 feet in diameter, it may be regarded as a
monument of antiquity; one ten inches in diameter as over a hundred
years old; one six inches in diameter as over forty years. The oldest
tree of this species in Southern Uregga that I saw could not have
exceeded eighty years.
_Nov. 19._—On the 19th a march of five miles through the forest west
from Kampunzu brought us to the Lualaba, in south latitude 3° 35′, just
forty-one geographical miles north of the Arab depot Nyangwé. An
afternoon observation for longitude showed east longitude 25° 49′. The
name Lualaba terminates here. I mean to speak of it henceforth as THE
LIVINGSTONE.
We found, when twenty miles from the river, that many of the Waregga had
never seen it, though they had heard of it as the Lu-al-ow-wa. Had not
Livingstone spoken of the river at Nyangwé as the Lualaba, I should not
have mentioned the word except as a corruption by the Waguha of the
Wenya term Lu-al-ow-wa, but as the river changes its name each time
after receiving an affluent, it would be useless to endeavour to retain
so many names in the memory.
The Livingstone was 1200 yards wide from bank to bank opposite the
landing-place of Kampunzu. As there were no people dwelling within a
mile of the right bank, we prepared to encamp. My tent was pitched about
thirty feet from the river, on a grassy spot; Tippu-Tib and his Arabs
were in the bushes; while the 550 people of whom the Expedition
consisted began to prepare a site for their huts, by enlarging the open
space around the landing-place.
While my breakfast (for noon) was cooking, and my tent was being drawn
taut and made trim, a mat was spread on a bit of short grass, soft as an
English lawn, a few yards from the water. Some sedgy reeds obstructed my
view, and as I wished while resting to watch the river gliding by, I had
them all cropped off short.
Frank and the Wangwana chiefs were putting the boat sections together in
the rear of the camp; I was busy thinking, planning a score of
things—what time it would be best to cross the river, how we should
commence our acquaintance with the warlike tribes on the left bank, what
our future would be, how I should succeed in conveying our large force
across, and, in the event of a determined resistance, what we should do,
&c.
Gentle as a summer’s dream, the brown wave of the great Livingstone
flowed by; broad and deep. On the opposite bank loomed darkly against
the sky another forest, similar to the one which had harrowed our souls.
I obtained from my seat a magnificent view of the river, flanked by
black forests, gliding along, with a serene grandeur and an unspeakable
majesty of silence about it that caused my heart to yearn towards it.
“Downward it flows to the unknown! to night-black clouds of mystery and
fable, mayhap past the lands of the anthropoids, the pigmies, and the
blanket-eared men of whom the gentle pagan king of Karagwé spoke, by
leagues upon leagues of unexplored lands, populous with scores of
tribes, of whom not a whisper has reached the people of other
continents; perhaps that fabulous being the dread Macoco, of whom
Bartolomeo Diaz, Cada Mosto, and Dapper have written, is still
represented by one who inherits his ancient kingdom and power, and
surrounded by barbarous pomp. Something strange must surely lie in the
vast space occupied by total blankness on our maps, between Nyangwé and
‘Tuckey’s Farthest!’”
“I seek a road to connect these two points. We have laboured through the
terrible forest, and manfully struggled through the gloom. My people’s
hearts have become faint. I seek a road. Why, here lies a broad watery
avenue cleaving the Unknown to some sea, like a path of light! Here are
woods all around, sufficient for a thousand fleets of canoes. Why not
build them?”
I sprang up; told the drummer to call to muster. The people responded
wearily to the call. Frank and the chiefs appeared. The Arabs and their
escort came also, until a dense mass of expectant faces surrounded me. I
turned to them and said:—
“Arabs! sons of Unyamwezi! children of Zanzibar! listen to words. We
have seen the Mitamba of Uregga. We have tasted its bitterness, and have
groaned in spirit. We seek a road. We seek something by which we may
travel. I seek a path that shall take me to the sea. I have found it.”
“Ah! ah—h!” and murmurs and inquiring looks at one another.
“Yes! El hamd ul Illah. I have found it. Regard this mighty river. From
the beginning it has flowed on thus, as you see it flow to-day. It has
flowed on in silence and darkness. Whither? To the Salt Sea, as all
rivers go! By that Salt Sea, on which the great ships come and go live
my friends and your friends. Do they not?”
Cries of “Yes! yes!”
“Yet, my people, though this river is so great, so wide and deep, no man
has ever penetrated the distance lying between this spot on which we
stand and our white friends who live by the Salt Sea. Why? Because it
was left for us to do.”
“Ah, no! no! no!” and desponding shakes of the head.
“Yes,” I continued, raising my voice; “I tell you, my friends, it has
been left from the beginning of time until to-day for us to do. It is
our work, and no other. It is the voice of Fate! The ONE GOD has written
that this year the river shall be known throughout its length! We will
have no more Mitambas; we will have no more panting and groaning by the
wayside; we will have no more hideous darkness; we will take to the
river, and keep to the river. To-day I shall launch my boat on that
stream, and it shall never leave it until I finish my work. I swear it.
“Now, you Wangwana! You, who have followed me through Turu, and sailed
around the great lakes with me; you, who have followed me, like children
following their father, through Unyoro, and down to Ujiji, and as far as
this wild, wild land, will you leave me here? Shall I and my white
brother go alone! Will you go back and tell my friends that you left me
in this wild spot, and cast me adrift to die? Or will you, to whom I
have been so kind, whom I love as I would love my children, will you
bind me, and take me back by force? Speak, Arabs? Where are my young
men, with hearts of lions? Speak, Wangwana, and show me those who dare
follow me?”
Uledi, the coxswain, leaped upward, and then sprang towards me, and
kneeling grasped my knees, and said, “Look on me, my master! I am one! I
will follow you to death!” “And I,” Kachéché cried; “and I, and I, and
I,” shouted the boat’s crew.
“It is well. I knew I had friends. You then who have cast your lot with
me stand on one side, and let me count you.”
There were thirty-eight! Ninety-five stood still and said nothing.
“I have enough. Even with you, my friends, I shall reach the sea. But
there is plenty of time. We have not yet made our canoes. We have not
yet parted with the Arabs. We have yet a long distance to travel with
Tippu-Tib. We may meet with good people from whom we may buy canoes. And
by the time we part I am sure that the ninety-five men now fearing to go
with us will not leave their brothers, and their master and his white
brother, to go down the river without them. Meantime I give you many
thanks, and shall not forget your names.
The assembly broke up, and each man proceeded about his special duties.
Tippu-Tib, Sheikh Abdallah, and Muini Ibrahim sat on the mat, and
commenced to try to persuade me not to be so rash, and to abandon all
idea of descending the river. In my turn I requested them not to speak
like children, and, however they might think, not to disclose their
fears to the Wangwana; but rather to encourage them to do their duty,
and share the dangers with me, because the responsibility was all my
own, and the greatest share of danger would be mine; and that I would be
in front to direct and guide and save, and for my own sake as well as
for their sake would be prudent.
In reply, they spoke of cataracts and cannibals, and warlike tribes.
They depreciated the spirit of the Wangwana, and declaimed against men
who were once slaves; refused to concede one virtue to them, either of
fidelity, courage, or gratitude, and predicted that the end would be
death to all.
“Speak no more, Tippu-Tib. You who have travelled all your life among
slaves have not yet learned that there lies something good in the heart
of every man that God made. Men were not made all bad, as you say. For
God is good, and He made all men. I have studied my people; I know them
and their ways. It will be my task to draw the good out of them while
they are with me; and the only way to do it is to be good to them, for
good produces good. As you value my friendship, and hope to receive
money from me, be silent. Speak not a word of fear to my people, and
when we part, I shall make known my name to you. To you, and to all who
are my friends, I shall be ‘the white man with the open hand.’ But if
not, then I shall be ‘Kiparamoto.’”
While I had been speaking, a small canoe with two men was seen advancing
from the opposite bank. One of the interpreters was called, and told to
speak to them quietly, and to ask them to bring canoes to take us
across.
“Ndugu, O ndugu” (“Brother, O brother”), the interpreter hailed them,
“we are friends; we wish to cross the river. Bring your canoes and take
us to the other side, and we will give you plenty of shells and beads.”
“Who are you?”
“We are Warungwana” (Wangwana).
“Where from?”
“From Nyangwé.”
“Ah! you are Wasambye!” (the uncircumcised).
“No; we have a white man with us as chief, and he is kind.”
“If he fills my canoe with shells, I will go and tell the Wenya that you
want to cross the river.”
“We cannot give so much as that, but we will give ten shells for each
man.”
“We want a thousand shells for each man, or you shall never cross the
river.”
“Ah, but, Ndugu, that is too much; come, we will give you twenty shells
for each.”
“Not for ten thousand, brother. We do not want you to cross the river.
Go back, Wasambye; you are bad! Wasambye are bad, bad, bad! The river is
deep, Wasambye! Go back, Wasambye; you are bad, bad! The river is deep,
Wasambye! You have not wings, Wasambye! Go back, Wasambye!”
After saying which they sang the wildest, weirdest note I ever heard,
and sent it pealing across the river. “Ooh-hu, ooh-hu-hu-hu!” In
response we heard hundreds of voices sing out a similar note—“Ooh-hu,
ooh-hu-hu-hu!”
“That is a war-cry, master,” said the interpreter.
“Nonsense, don’t be foolish. What cause is there for war?”
“These wild people do not need cause; they are simply wild beasts.”
“I will prove to you before two hours you are wrong,” I said.
By the time I had finished my breakfast the _Lady Alice_ was in the
river, and a loud shout of applause greeted her appearance on her
natural element.
The boat’s crew, with Uledi as coxswain, and Tippu-Tib, Sheikh Abdallah,
Muini Ibrahim, Bwana Abed (the guide), Muini Jumah, and two interpreters
and myself as passengers, entered the boat. We were rowed up the river
for half an hour, and then struck across to a small island in mid-
stream. With the aid of a glass I examined the shores, which from our
camp appeared to be dense forest. We saw that there were about thirty
canoes tied to the bank, and amongst the trees I detected several
houses. The bank was crowded with human beings, who were observing our
movements.
We re-entered our boat, and pulled straight across to the left bank,
then floated down slowly with the current, meantime instructing the
interpreters as to what they should say to the Wenya.
When we came opposite, an interpreter requested them to take a look at
the white man who had come to visit their country, who wished to make
friends with them, who would give them abundance of shells, and allow
none of his men to appropriate a single banana, or do violence to a
single soul; not a leaf would be taken, nor a twig burned, without being
paid for.
The natives, gazing curiously at me, promised after a consultation, that
if we made blood-brotherhood with them there should be no trouble, and
that for this purpose the white chief, accompanied by ten men, should
proceed early next morning to the island, where he would be met by the
chief of the Wenya and his ten men, and that after the ceremony, all the
canoes should cross and assist to carry our people to their country.
_Nov. 20._—After thanking them, we returned to camp, highly elated with
our success. At 4 A.M., however, the boat secretly conveyed twenty men
with Kachéché, who had orders to hide in the brushwood, and, returning
to camp at 7 A.M., conveyed Frank and ten men, who were to perform the
ceremony of brotherhood, to the island. On its return, I entered the
boat, and was rowed a short way up-stream along the right bank, so that,
in case of treachery, I might be able to reach the island within four
minutes to lend assistance.
About 9 A.M. six canoes full of men were seen to paddle to the island.
We saw them arrive before it, and finally to draw near. Earnestly and
anxiously I gazed through my glass at every movement. Other canoes were
seen advancing to the island. It was well, I thought, that Frank had his
reserve hidden so close at hand. A few seconds after the latest arrivals
had appeared on the scene, I saw great animation, and almost at once
those curious cries came pealing up the river. There were animated
shouts, and a swaying of bodies, and, unable to wait longer, we dashed
towards the island, and the natives on seeing us approach paddled
quickly to their landing-place.
“Well, Frank. What was the matter?” I asked.
“I never saw such wretches in my life, sir. When that last batch of
canoes came, their behaviour, which was decent before, changed. They
surrounded us. Half of them remained in the canoes; those on land began
to abuse us violently, handling their spears, and acting so furiously
that if we had not risen with our guns ready they would have speared us
as we were sitting down waiting to begin the ceremony. But Kachéché,
seeing their wild behaviour and menacing gestures, advanced quietly from
the brushwood with his men, on seeing which they ran to their canoes,
where they held their spears ready to launch when you came.”
“Well, no harm has been done yet,” I replied; “so rest where you are,
while I take Kachéché and his men across to their side, where a camp
will be formed; because, if we delay to-day crossing, we shall have half
of the people starving by to-morrow morning.”
After embarking Kachéché, we steered for a point in the woods above the
native village, and, landing thirty men with axes, proceeded to form a
small camp, which might serve as a nucleus until we should be enabled to
transport the Expedition. We then floated down river opposite the
village, and, with the aid of an interpreter, explained to them that as
we had already landed thirty men in their country, it would be far
better that they should assist us in the ferriage, for which they might
feel assured they would be well paid. At the same time I tossed a small
bag of beads to them. In a few minutes they consented, and six canoes,
with two men in each, accompanied us to camp. The six canoes and the
boat conveyed eighty people safely to the left bank; and then other
canoes, animated by the good understanding that seemed to prevail
between us, advanced to assist, and by night every soul associated with
our Expedition was rejoicing by genial camp-fires in the villages of the
Wenya.