Entangled amongst the marshes of Bangweolo. Great privations.
Obliged to return to Chituñkuè's. At the chief's mercy.
Agreeably surprised with the chief. Start once more. Very
difficult march. Robbery exposed. Fresh attack of illness. Sends
scouts out to find villages. Message to Chirubwé. An ant raid.
Awaits news from Matipa. Distressing perplexity. The Bougas of
Bangweolo. Constant rain above and flood below. Ill. Susi and
Chuma sent as envoys to Matipa. Reach Bangweolo. Arrive at
Matipa's islet. Matipa's town. The donkey suffers in transit.
Tries to go on to Kabinga's. Dr. Livingstone makes a
demonstration. Solution of the transport difficulty. Susi and
detachment sent to Kabinga's. Extraordinary extent of flood.
Reaches Kabinga's. An upset. Crosses the Chambezé. The River
Muanakazi. They separate into companies by land and water. A
disconsolate lion. Singular caterpillars. Observations on fish.
Coasting along the southern flood of Lake Bangweolo. Dangerous
state of Dr. Livingstone.
_1st February, 1873._--Waiting for the scouts. They return
unsuccessful--forced to do so by hunger. They saw a very large river
flowing into the Lake, but did not come across a single soul. Killed our
last calf, and turn back for four hard days' travel to Chituñkuè's. I
send men on before us to bring food back towards us.
_2nd February, 1873._--March smartly back to our camp of 28th ult. The
people bear their hunger well. They collect mushrooms and plants, and
often get lost in this flat featureless country.
_3rd February, 1873._--Return march to our bridge on the Lofu, five
hours. In going we went astray, and took six hours to do the work of
five. Tried lunars in vain. Either sun or moon in clouds. On the Luéna.
_4th February, 1873._--Return to camp on the rivulet with much
_Methonica gloriosa_ on its banks. Our camp being on its left bank of
26th. It took long to cross the next river, probably the Kwalé, though
the elephants' footprints are all filled up now. Camp among deserted
gardens, which afford a welcome supply of cassava and sweet potatoes.
The men who were sent on before us slept here last night, and have
deceived us by going more slowly without loads than we who are loaded.
_5th February, 1873._--Arrived at Chituñkuè's, crossing two broad deep
brooks, and on to the Malalenzi, now swollen, having at least 200 yards
of flood and more than 300 yards of sponge. Saluted by a drizzling
shower. We are now at Chituñkuè's mercy.
We find the chief more civil than we expected. He said each chief had
his own land and his own peculiarities. He was not responsible for
others. We were told that we had been near to Matipa and other chiefs:
he would give us guides if we gave him a cloth and some powder.
We returned over these forty-one miles in fifteen hours, through much
deep water. Our scouts played us false both in time and beads: the
headmen punished them. I got lunars, for a wonder. Visited Chitunkubwé,
as his name properly is. He is a fine jolly-looking man, of a European
cast of countenance, and very sensible and friendly. I gave him two
cloths, for which he seemed thankful, and promised good guides to
Matipa's. He showed me two of Matipa's men who had heard us firing guns
to attract one of our men who had strayed; these men followed us. It
seems we had been close to human habitations, but did not know it. We
have lost half a month by this wandering, but it was all owing to the
unfriendliness of some and the fears of all. I begged for a more
northerly path, where the water is low. It is impossible to describe
the amount of water near the Lake. Rivulets without number. They are so
deep as to damp all ardour. I passed a very large striped spider in
going to visit Chitunkubwé. The stripes were of yellowish green, and it
had two most formidable reddish mandibles, the same shape as those of
the redheaded white ant. It seemed to be eating a kind of ant with a
light-coloured head, not seen elsewhere. A man killed it, and all the
natives said that it was most dangerous. We passed gardens of dura;
leaves all split up with hail, and forest leaves all punctured.
_6th February, 1873._--Chitunkubwé gave a small goat and a large basket
of flour as a return present. I gave him three-quarters of a pound of
powder, in addition to the cloth.
_7th February, 1873._--This chief showed his leanings by demanding
prepayment for his guides. This being a preparatory step to their
desertion I resisted, and sent men to demand what he meant by his words;
he denied all, and said that his people lied, not he. We take this for
what it is worth. He gives two guides to-morrow morning, and visits us
this afternoon.
_8th February, 1873._--The chief dawdles, although he promised great
things yesterday. He places the blame on his people, who did not prepare
food on account of the rain. Time is of no value to them. We have to
remain over to-day. It is most trying to have to wait on frivolous
pretences. I have endured such vexatious delays. The guides came at last
with quantities of food, which they intend to bargain with my people on
the way. A Nassicker who carried my saddle was found asleep near my
camp.
_9th February, 1873._--Slept in a most unwholesome, ruined village. Rank
vegetation had run over all, and the soil smelled offensively. Crossed a
sponge, then a rivulet, and sponge running into the Miwalé Eiver, then
by a rocky passage we crossed the Mofiri, or great Tinga-tinga, a water
running strongly waist and breast deep, above thirty feet broad here,
but very much broader below. After this we passed two more rills and the
River Methonua, but we build a camp above our former one. The human
ticks called "papasi" by the Suaheli, and "karapatos" by the Portuguese,
made even the natives call out against their numbers and ferocity.
_10th February, 1873._--Back again to our old camp on the Lovu or Lofu
by the bridge. We left in a drizzle, which continued from 4 A.M. to 1
P.M. We were three hours in it, and all wetted, just on reaching camp by
200 yards, of flood mid-deep; but we have food.
_11th February, 1873._--Our guides took us across country, where we saw
tracks of buffaloes, and in a meadow, the head of a sponge, we saw a
herd of Hartebeests. A drizzly night was followed by a morning of cold
wet fog, but in three hours we reached our old camp: it took us six
hours to do this distance before, and five on our return. We camped on a
deep bridged stream, called the Kiachibwé.
_12th February, 1873._--We crossed the Kasoso, which joins the Mokisya,
a river we afterwards crossed: it flows N.W., then over the Mofungwé.
The same sponges everywhere.
_13th February, 1873._--In four hours we came within sight of the Luéna
and Lake, and saw plenty of elephants and other game, but very shy. The
forest trees are larger. The guides are more at a loss than we are, as
they always go in canoes in the flat rivers and rivulets. Went E., then
S.E. round to S.
_14th February, 1873._--Public punishment to Chirango for stealing
beads, fifteen cuts; diminished his load to 40 lbs., giving him blue and
white beads to be strung. The water stands so high in the paths that I
cannot walk dryshod, and I found in the large bougas or prairies in
front, that it lay knee deep, so I sent on two men to go to the first
villages of Matipa for large canoes to navigate the Lake, or give us a
guide to go east to the Chambezé, to go round on foot. It was Halima
who informed on Chirango, as he offered her beads for a cloth of a kind
which she knew had not hitherto been taken out of the baggage. This was
so far faithful in her, but she has an outrageous tongue. I remain
because of an excessive hæmorrhagic discharge.
[We cannot but believe Livingstone saw great danger in these constant
recurrences of his old disorder: we find a trace of it in the solemn
reflections which he wrote in his pocket-book, immediately under the
above words:--]
If the good Lord gives me favour, and permits me to finish my work, I
shall thank and bless Him, though it has cost me untold toil, pain, and
travel; this trip has made my hair all grey.
_15th February, 1873, Sunday._--Service. Killed our last goat while
waiting for messengers to return from Matipa's. Evening: the messenger
came back, having been foiled by deep tinga-tinga and bouga. He fired
his gun three times, but no answer came, so as he had slept one night
away he turned, but found some men hunting, whom he brought with him.
They say that Matipa is on Chirubé islet, a good man too, but far off
from this.
_16th February, 1873._--Sent men by the hunter's canoe to Chirubé, with
a request to Matipa to convey us west if he has canoes, but, if not, to
tell us truly, and we will go east and cross the Chambezé where it is
small. Chitunkubwé's men ran away, refusing to wait till we had
communicated with Matipa. Here the water stands underground about
eighteen inches from the surface. The guides played us false, and this
is why they escaped.
_17th February, 1873._--The men will return to-morrow, but they have to
go all the way out to the islet of Chirubé to Matipa's.
Suffered a furious attack at midnight from the red Sirafu or Driver
ants. Our cook fled first at their onset. I lighted a candle, and
remembering Dr. Van der Kemp's idea that no animal will attack man
unprovoked, I lay still. The first came on my foot quietly, then some
began to bite between the toes, then the larger ones swarmed over the
foot and bit furiously, and made the blood start out. I then went out of
the tent, and my whole person was instantly covered as close as
small-pox (not confluent) on a patient. Grass fires were lighted, and my
men picked some off my limbs and tried to save me. After battling for an
hour or two they took me into a hut not yet invaded, and I rested till
they came, the pests, and routed me out there too! Then came on a steady
pour of rain, which held on till noon, as if trying to make us
miserable. At 9 A.M. I got back into my tent. The large Sirafu have
mandibles curved like reaping-sickles, and very sharp--as fine at the
point as the finest needle or a bee's sting. Their office is to remove
all animal refuse, cockroaches, &c., and they took all my fat. Their
appearance sets every cockroach in a flurry, and all ants, white and
black, get into a panic. On man they insert the sharp curved mandibles,
and then with six legs push their bodies round so as to force the points
by lever power. They collect in masses in their runs and stand with
mandibles extended, as if defying attack. The large ones stand thus at
bay whilst the youngsters hollow out a run half an inch wide, and about
an inch deep. They remained with us till late in the afternoon, and we
put hot ashes on the defiant hordes. They retire to enjoy the fruits of
their raid, and come out fresh another day.
_18th February, 1873._--We wait hungry and cold for the return of the
men who have gone to Matipa, and hope the good Lord will grant us
influence with this man.
Our men have returned to-day, having obeyed the native who told them to
sleep instead of going to Matipa. They bought food, and then believed
that the islet Chirubé was too far off, and returned with a most lame
story. We shall make the best of it by going N.W., to be near the islets
and buy food, till we can communicate with Matipa. If he fails us by
fair means, we must seize canoes and go by force. The men say fear of me
makes them act very cowardly. I have gone amongst the whole population
kindly and fairly, but I fear I must now act rigidly, for when they hear
that we have submitted to injustice, they at once conclude that we are
fair game for all, and they go to lengths in dealing falsely that they
would never otherwise attempt. It is, I can declare, not my nature, nor
has it been my practice, to go as if "my back were up."
_19th February, 1873._--A cold wet morning keeps us in this
uncomfortable spot. When it clears up we go to an old stockade, to be
near an islet to buy food. The people, knowing our need, are
extortionate. We went on at 9 A.M. over an extensive water-covered
plain. I was carried three miles to a canoe, and then in it we went
westward, in branches of the Luena, very deep and flowing W. for three
hours. I was carried three miles to a canoe, and we were then near
enough to hear Bangweolo bellowing. The water on the plain is four,
five, and seven feet deep. There are rushes, ferns, papyrus, and two
lotuses, in abundance. Many dark grey caterpillars clung to the grass
and were knocked off as we paddled or poled. Camped in an old village of
Matipa's, where, in the west, we see the Luena enter Lake Bangweolo; but
all is flat prairie or buga, filled with fast-flowing water, save a few
islets covered with palms and trees. Rain continued sprinkling us from
the N.W. all the morning. Elephants had run riot over the ruins, eating
a species of grass now in seed. It resembles millet, and the donkey is
fond of it. I have only seen this and one other species of grass in seed
eaten by the African elephant. Trees, bulbs, and fruits are his
dainties, although ants, whose hills he overturns, are relished. A large
party in canoes came with food as soon as we reached our new quarters:
they had heard that we were in search of Matipa. All are eager for
calico, though they have only raw cassava to offer. They are clothed in
bark-cloth and skins. Without canoes no movement can be made in any
direction, for it is water everywhere, water above and water below.
_20th February, 1873._--I sent a request to a friendly man to give me
men, and a large canoe to go myself to Matipa; he says that he will let
me know to-day if he can. Heavy rain by night and drizzling by day. No
definite answer yet, but we are getting food, and Matipa will soon hear
of us as he did when we came and returned back for food. I engaged
another man to send a canoe to Matipa, and I showed him his payment, but
retain it here till he comes back.
_21st February, 1873._--The men engaged refuse to go to Matipa's, they
have no honour. It is so wet we can do nothing. Another man spoken to
about going, says that they run the risk of being killed by some hostile
people on another island between this and Matipa's.
_22nd February, 1873._--A wet morning. I was ill all yesterday, but
escape fever by hæmorrhage. A heavy mantle of N.W. clouds came floating
over us daily. No astronomical observation can possibly be taken. I was
never in such misty cloudy weather in Africa. A man turned up at 9 A.M.
to carry our message to Matipa; Susi and Chumah went with him. The good
Lord go with them, and lend me influence and grant me help.
_23rd February, 1873, Sunday._--Service. Rainy.
_24th February, 1873._--Tried hard for a lunar, but the moon was lost in
the glare of the sun.
_25th February, 1873._--For a wonder it did not rain till 4 P.M. The
people bring food, but hold out for cloth, which is inconvenient.
Susi and Chumah not appearing may mean that the men are preparing canoes
and food to transport us.
_25th February, 1873._--Susi returned this morning with good news from
Matipa, who declares his willingness to carry us to Kabendé for the five
bundles of brass wire I offered. It is not on Chirubé, but amid the
swamps of the mainland on the Lake's north side. Immense swampy plains
all around except at Kabendé. Matipa is at variance with his brothers on
the subject of the lordship of the lands and the produce of the
elephants, which are very numerous. I am devoutly thankful to the Giver
of all for favouring me so far, and hope that He may continue His kind
aid.
No mosquitoes here, though Speke, at the Victoria Nyanza, said they
covered the bushes and grass in myriads, and struck against the hands
and face most disagreeably.
_27th February, 1873._--Waiting for other canoes to be sent by Matipa.
His men say that there is but one large river on the south of Lake
Bangweolo, and called Luomba. They know the mountains on the south-east
as I do, and on the west, but say they don't know any on the middle of
the watershed. They plead their youth as an excuse for knowing so
little.
Matipa's men proposed to take half our men, but I refused to divide our
force; they say that Matipa is truthful.
_28th February, 1873._--No night rain after 8 P.M., for a wonder. Baker
had 1500 men in health on 15th June, 1870, at lat. 9° 26' N., and 160 on
sick list; many dead. Liberated 305 slaves. His fleet was thirty-two
vessels; wife and he well. I wish that I met him. Matipa's men not
having come, it is said they are employed bringing the carcase of an
elephant to him. I propose to go near to him to-morrow, some in canoes
and some on foot. The good Lord help me. New moon this evening.
_1st March, 1873._--Embarked women and goods in canoes, and went three
hours S.E. to Bangweolo. Stopped on an island where people were drying
fish over fires. Heavy rain wetted us all as we came near the islet, the
drops were as large as half-crowns by the marks they made. We went over
flooded prairie four feet deep, and covered with rushes, and two
varieties of lotus or sacred lily; both are eaten, and so are papyrus.
The buffaloes are at a loss in the water. Three canoes are behind. The
men are great cowards. I took possession of all the paddles and punting
poles, as the men showed an inclination to move off from our islet. The
water in the country is prodigiously large: plains extending further
than the eye can reach have four or five feet of clear water, and the
Lake and adjacent lands for twenty or thirty miles are level. We are on
a miserable dirty fishy island called Motovinza; all are damp. We are
surrounded by scores of miles of rushes, an open sward, and many lotus
plants, but no mosquitoes.
_2nd March, 1873._--It took us 7-1/2 hours' punting to bring us to an
island, and then the miserable weather rained constantly on our landing
into the Boma (stockade), which is well peopled. The prairie is ten
hours long, or about thirty miles by punting. Matipa is on an island
too, with four bomas on it. A river, the Molonga, runs past it, and is a
protection.[28]
The men wear a curious head-dress of skin or hair, and large upright
ears.
_3rd March, 1873._--Matipa paid off the men who brought us here. He says
that five Sangos or coils (which brought us here) will do to take us to
Kabendé, and I sincerely hope that they will. His canoes are off,
bringing the meat of an elephant. There are many dogs in the village,
which they use in hunting to bring elephants to bay. I visited Matipa at
noon. He is an old man, slow of tongue, and self-possessed; he
recommended our crossing to the south bank of the Lake to his brother,
who has plenty of cattle, and to goalong that side where there are few
rivers and plenty to eat. Kabendé's land was lately overrun by
Banyamwezi, who now inhabit that country, but as yet have no food to
sell. Moanzabamba was the founder of the Babisa tribe, and used the
curious plaits of hair which form such a singular head-dress here like
large ears. I am rather in a difficulty, as I fear I must give the five
coils for a much shorter task; but it is best not to appear unfair,
although I will be the loser. He sent a man to catch a Sampa for me, it
is the largest fish in the Lake, and he promised to have men ready to
take my men over to-morrow. Matipa never heard from any of the elders of
his people that any of his forefathers ever saw a European. He knew
perfectly about Pereira, Lacerda, and Monteiro, going to Casembe, and my
coming to the islet Mpabala. No trace seems to exist of Captain
Singleton's march.[29] The native name of Pereira is "Moenda Mondo:" of
Lacerda, "Charlie:" of Monteiro's party, "Makabalwé," or the donkey men,
but no other name is heard. The following is a small snatch of Babisa
lore. It was told by an old man who came to try for some beads, and
seemed much interested about printing. He was asked if there were any
marks made on the rocks in any part of the country, and this led to his
story. Lukerenga came from the west a long time ago to the River
Lualaba. He had with him a little dog. When he wanted to pass over he
threw his mat on the water, and this served as a raft, and they crossed
the stream. When he reached the other side there were rocks at the
landing place, and the mark is still to be seen on the stone, not only
of his foot, but of a stick which he cut with his hatchet, and of his
dog's feet; the name of the place is Uchéwa.
_4th March, 1873._--Sent canoes off to bring our men over tothe island
of Matipa. They brought ten, but the donkey could not come as far
through the "tinga-tinga" as they, so they took it back for fear that it
should perish. I spoke to Matipa this morning to send more canoes, and
he consented. We move outside, as the town swarms with mice, and is very
closely built and disagreeable. I found mosquitoes in the town.
_5th March, 1873._--Time runs on quickly. The real name of this island
is Masumbo, and the position may be probably long. 31° 3'; lat. 10° 11'
S. Men not arrived yet. Matipa very slow.
_6th March, 1873._--Building a camp outside the town for quiet and
cleanliness, and no mice to run over us at night. This islet is some
twenty or thirty feet above the general flat country and adjacent water.
At 3 P.M. we moved up to the highest part of the island where we can see
around us and have the fresh breeze from the Lake. Rainy as we went up,
as usual.
_7th March, 1873._--We expect our men to-day. I tremble for the donkey!
Camp sweet and clean, but it, too, has mosquitoes, from which a curtain
protects me completely--a great luxury, but unknown to the Arabs, to
whom I have spoken about it. Abed was overjoyed by one I made for him;
others are used to their bites, as was the man who said that he would
get used to a nail through the heel of his shoe. The men came at 3 P.M.,
but eight had to remain, the canoes being too small. The donkey had to
be tied down, as he rolled about on his legs and would have forced his
way out. He bit Mabruki Speke's lame hand, and came in stiff from lying
tied all day. We had him shampooed all over, but he could not eat
dura--he feels sore. Susi did well under the circumstances, and we had
plenty of flour ready for all. Chanza is near Kabinga, and this last
chief is coming to visit me in a day or two.
_8th March, 1873._--I press Matipa to get a fleet of canoes equal to
our number, but he complains of their being stolen by rebel subjects. He
tells me his brother Kabinga would have been here some days ago but for
having lost a son, who was killed by an elephant: he is mourning for him
but will come soon. Kabinga is on the other side of the Chambezé. A
party of male and female drummers and dancers is sure to turn up at
every village; the first here had a leader that used such violent antics
perspiration ran off his whole frame. I gave a few strings of beads, and
the performance is repeated to-day by another lot, but I rebel and allow
them to dance unheeded. We got a sheep for a wonder for a doti; fowls
and fish alone could be bought, but Kabinga has plenty of cattle.
[Illustration: Dr. Livingstone's Mosquito Curtain.]
There is a species of carp with red ventral fin, which is caught and
used in very large quantities: it is called "pumbo." The people dry it
over fires as preserved provisions. Sampa is the largest fish in the
Lake, it is caught by a hook. The Luéna goes into Bangweolo at
Molandangao. A male Msobé had faint white stripes across the back and
one well-marked yellow stripe along the spine. The hip had a few faint
white spots, which showed by having longer hair than the rest; a kid of
the same species had a white belly.
The eight men came from Motovinza this afternoon, and now all our party
is united. The donkey shows many sores inflicted by the careless people,
who think that force alone can be used to inferior animals.
_11th March, 1873._--Matipa says "Wait; Kabinga is coming, and he has
canoes." Time is of no value to him. His wife is making him pombe, and
will drown all his cares, but mine increase and plague me. Matipa and
his wife each sent me a huge calabash of pombe; I wanted only a little
to make bread with.
By putting leaven in a bottle and keeping it from one baking to another
(or three days) good bread is made, and the dough being surrounded by
banana leaves or maize leaves (or even forest leaves of hard texture and
no taste, or simply by broad leafy grass), is preserved from burning in
an iron pot. The inside of the pot is greased, then the leaves put in
all round, and the dough poured in to stand and rise in the sun.
Better news comes: the son of Kabinga is to be here to-night, and we
shall concoct plans together.
_12th March, 1873._--The news was false, no one came from Kabinga. The
men strung beads to-day, and I wrote part of my despatch for Earl
Granville.
_13th March, 1873._--- I went to Matipa, and proposed to begin the
embarkation of my men at once, as they are many, and the canoes are only
sufficient to take a few at a time. He has sent off a big canoe to reap
his millet, when it returns he will send us over to see for ourselves
where we can go. I explained the danger of setting my men astray.
_14th March, 1873._--Rains have ceased for a few days. Went down to
Matipa and tried to take his likeness for the sake of the curious hat he
wears.
_15th March, 1873._--Finish my despatch so far.
_16th March, 1873, Sunday._--Service. I spoke sharply to Matipa for his
duplicity. He promises everything and does nothing: he has in fact no
power over his people. Matipa says that a large canoe will come
to-morrow, and next day men will go to Kabinga to reconnoitre. There may
be a hitch there which we did not take into account; Kabinga's son,
killed by an elephant, may have raised complications: blame may be
attached to Matipa, and in their dark minds it may appear all important
to settle the affair before having communication with him. Ill all day
with my old complaint.
[Illustration: Matipa and his Wife.]
_17th March, 1873._--The delay is most trying. So many detentions have
occurred they ought to have made me of a patient spirit.
As I thought, Matipa told us to-day that it is reported he has some
Arabs with him who will attack all the Lake people forthwith, and he is
anxious that we shall go over to show them that we are peaceful.
_18th March, 1873._--Sent off men to reconnoitre at Kabinga's and to
make a camp there. Rain began again after nine days' dry weather, N.W.
wind, but in the morning fleecy clouds came from S.E. in patches. Matipa
is acting the villain, and my men are afraid of him: they are all
cowards, and say that they are afraid of me, but this is only an excuse
for their cowardice.
_19th March, 1873._--Thanks to the Almighty Preserver of men for sparing
me thus far on the journey of life. Can I hope for ultimate success? So
many obstacles have arisen. Let not Satan prevail over me, Oh! my good
Lord Jesus.[30]
8 A.M. Got about twenty people off to canoes. Matipa not friendly. They
go over to Kabinga on S.W. side of the Chambezé, and thence we go
overland. 9 A.M. Men came back and reported Matipa false again; only one
canoe had come. I made a demonstration by taking quiet possession of his
village and house; fired a pistol through the roof and called my men,
ten being left to guard the camp; Matipa fled to another village. The
people sent off at once and brought three canoes, so at 11 A.M. my men
embarked quietly. They go across the Chambezé and build a camp on its
left bank. All Kabinga's cattle are kept on an island called Kalilo,
near the mouth of the Chambezé, and are perfectly wild: they are driven
into the water like buffaloes, and pursued when one is wanted for meat.
No milk is ever obtained of course.
_20th March, 1873._--Cold N.W. weather, but the rainfall is small, as
the S.E. stratum comes down below the N.W. by day. Matipa sent two large
baskets of flour (cassava), a sheep, and a cock. He hoped that we should
remain with him till the water of the over-flood dried, and help him to
fight his enemies, but I explained our delays, and our desire to
complete our work and meet Baker.
_21st March, 1873._--Very heavy N.W. rain and thunder by night, and by
morning. I gave Matipa a coil of thick brass wire, and his wife a string
of large neck beads, and explained my hurry to be off. He is now all
fair, and promises largely: he has been much frightened by our warlike
demonstration. I am glad I had to do nothing but make a show of force.
_22nd March, 1873._--Susi not returned from Kabinga. I hope that he is
getting canoes, and men also, to transport us all at one voyage. It is
flood as far as the eye can reach; flood four and six feet deep, and
more, with three species of rushes, two kinds of lotus, or sacred lily,
papyrus, arum, &c. One does not know where land ends, and Lake begins:
the presence of land-grass proves that this is not always overflowed.
_23rd March, 1873._--Men returned at noon. Kabinga is mourning for his
son killed by an elephant, and keeps in seclusion. The camp is formed on
the left bank of the Chambezé.
_24th March._--The people took the canoes away, but in fear sent for
them. I got four, and started with all our goods, first giving a present
that no blame should follow me. We punted six hours to a little islet
without a tree, and no sooner did we land than a pitiless pelting rain
came on. We turned up a canoe to get shelter. We shall reach the
Chambezé to-morrow. The wind tore the tent out of our hands, and damaged
it too; the loads are all soaked, and with the cold it is bitterly
uncomfortable. A man put my bed into the bilge, and never said "Bale
out," so I was for a wet night, but it turned out better than I
expected. No grass, but we made a bed of the loads, and a blanket
fortunately put into a bag.
_25th March, 1873._--Nothing earthly will make me give up my work in
despair. I encourage myself in the Lord my God, and go forward.
We got off from our miserably small islet of ten yards at 7 A.M., a
grassy sea on all sides, with a few islets in the far distance. Four
varieties of rushes around us, triangular and fluted, rise from eighteen
inches to two feet above the water. The caterpillars seem to eat each
other, and a web is made round others; the numerous spiders may have
been the workmen of the nest. The wind on the rushes makes a sound like
the waves of the sea. The flood extends out in slightly depressed arms
of the Lake for twenty or thirty miles, and far too broad to be seen
across; fish abound, and ant-hills alone lift up their heads; they have
trees on them. Lukutu flows from E. to W. to the Chambezé, as does the
Lubanseusi also. After another six hours' punting, over the same
wearisome prairie or Bouga, we heard the merry voices of children. It
was a large village, on a flat, which seems flooded at times, but much
cassava is planted on mounds, made to protect the plants from the water,
which stood in places in the village, but we got a dry spot for the
tent. The people offered us huts. We had as usual a smart shower on the
way to Kasenga, where we slept. We passed the Islet Luangwa.
_26th March, 1873._--We started at 7.30, and got into a large stream out
of the Chambezé, called Mabziwa. One canoe sank in it, and we lost a
slave girl of Amoda. Fished up three boxes, and two guns, but the boxes
being full of cartridges were much injured; we lost the donkey's saddle
too. After this mishap we crossed the Lubanseusi, near its confluence
with the Chambezé, 300 yards wide and three fathoms deep, and a slow
current. We crossed the Chambezé. It is about 400 yards wide, with a
quick clear current of two knots, and three fathoms deep, like the
Lubanseusé; but that was slow in current, but clear also. There is one
great lock after another, with thick mats of hedges, formed of aquatic
plants between. The volume of water is enormous. We punted five hours,
and then camped.
_27th March, 1873._--I sent canoes and men back to Matipa's to bring all
the men that remained, telling them to ship them at once on arriving,
and not to make any talk about it. Kabinga keeps his distance from us,
and food is scarce; at noon he sent a man to salute me in his name.
_28th March, 1873._--Making a pad for a donkey, to serve instead of a
saddle. Kabinga attempts to sell a sheep at an exorbitant price, and
says that he is weeping over his dead child. Mabruki Speke's hut caught
fire at night, and his cartridge box was burned.
_29th March, 1873._--I bought a sheep for 100 strings of beads. I wished
to begin the exchange by being generous, and told his messenger so; then
a small quantity of maize was brought, and I grumbled at the meanness of
the present: there is no use in being bashful, as they are not ashamed
to grumble too. The man said that Kabinga would send more when he had
collected it.
_30th March, 1873, Sunday._--A lion roars mightily. The fish-hawk utters
his weird voice in the morning, as if he lifted up to a friend at a
great distance, in a sort of falsetto key.
5 P.M. Men returned, but the large canoe having been broken by the
donkey, we have to go back and pay for it, and take away about twenty
men now left. Matipa kept all the payment from his own people, and so
left us in the lurch; thus another five days is lost.
_31st March, 1873._--I sent the men back to Matipa's for all our party.
I give two dotis to repair the canoe. Islanders are always troublesome,
from a sense of security in their fastnesses. Made stirrups of thick
brass wire four-fold; they promise to do well. Sent Kabinga a cloth, and
a message, but he is evidently a niggard, like Matipa: we must take him
as we find him, there is no use in growling. Seven of our men returned,
having got a canoe from one of Matipa's men. Kabinga, it seems, was
pleased with the cloth, and says that he will ask for maize from his
people, and buy it for me; he has rice growing. He will send a canoe to
carry me over the next river.
_3rd April, 1873._--Very heavy rain last night. Six inches fell in a
short time. The men at last have come from Matipa's.
_4th April, 1873._--Sent over to Kabinga to buy a cow, and got a fat one
for 2-1/2 dotis, to give the party a feast ere we start. The kambari
fish of the Chambezé is three feet three inches in length.
Two others, the "polwé" and "lopatakwao," all go up the Chambezé to
spawn when the rains begin. Casembe's people make caviare of the spawn
of the "pumbo."
[The next entry is made in a new pocket-book, numbered XVII. For the
first few days pen and ink were used, afterwards a well-worn stump of
pencil, stuck into a steel penholder and attached to a piece of bamboo,
served his purpose.]
_5th April, 1873._--March from Kabinga's on the Chambezé, our luggage in
canoes, and men on land. We punted on flood six feet deep, with many
ant-hills all about, covered with trees. Course S.S.E. for five miles,
across the River Lobingela, sluggish, and about 300 yards wide.
_6th April, 1873._--Leave in the same way, but men were sent from
Kabinga to steal the canoes, which we paid his brother Mateysa
handsomely for. A stupid drummer, beating the alarm in the distance,
called us inland; we found the main body of our people had gone on, and
so by this, our party got separated,[31] and we pulled and punted six or
seven hours S.W. in great difficulty, as the fishermen we saw refused to
show us where the deep water lay. The whole country S. of the Lake was
covered with water, thickly dotted over with lotus-leaves and rushes. It
has a greenish appearance, and it might be well on a map to show the
spaces annually flooded by a broad wavy band, twenty, thirty, and even,
forty miles out from the permanent banks of the Lake: it might be
coloured light green. The broad estuaries fifty or more miles, into
which the rivers form themselves, might be coloured blue, but it is
quite impossible at present to tell where land ends, and Lake begins; it
is all water, water everywhere, which seems to be kept from flowing
quickly off by the narrow bed of the Luapula, which has perpendicular
banks, worn deep down in new red sandstone. It is the Nile apparently
enacting its inundations, even at its sources. The amount of water
spread out over the country constantly excites my wonder; it is
prodigious. Many of the ant-hills are cultivated and covered with dura,
pumpkins, beans, maize, but the waters yield food plenteously in fish
and lotus-roots. A species of wild rice grows, but the people neither
need it nor know it. A party of fishermen fled from us, but by coaxing
we got them to show us deep water. They then showed us an islet, about
thirty yards square, without wood, and desired us to sleep there. We
went on, and then they decamped.
Pitiless pelting showers wetted everything; but near sunset we saw two
fishermen paddling quickly off from an ant-hill, where we found a hut,
plenty of fish, and some firewood. There we spent the night, and watched
by turns, lest thieves should come and haul away our canoes and
goods. Heavy rain. One canoe sank, wetting everything in her. The leaks
in her had been stopped with clay, and a man sleeping near the stern had
displaced this frail caulking. We did not touch the fish, and I cannot
conjecture who has inspired fear in all the inhabitants.
_7th April, 1873._--Went on S.W., and saw two men, who guided us to the
River Muanakazi, which forms a connecting link between the River
Lotingila and the Lolotikila, about the southern borders of the flood.
Men were hunting, and we passed near large herds of antelopes, which
made a rushing, plunging sound as they ran and sprang away among the
waters. A lion had wandered into this world of water and ant-hills, and
roared night and morning, as if very much disgusted: we could sympathise
with him! Near to the Muanakazi, at a broad bank in shallow water near
the river, we had to unload and haul. Our guides left us, well pleased
with the payment we had given them. The natives beating a drum on our
east made us believe them to be our party, and some thought that they
heard two shots. This misled us, and we went towards the sound through
papyrus, tall rushes, arums, and grass, till tired out, and took refuge
on an ant-hill for the night. Lion roaring. We were lost in stiff grassy
prairies, from three to four feet deep in water, for five hours. We
fired a gun in the stillness of the night, but received no answer; so on
the _8th_ we sent a small canoe at daybreak to ask for information and
guides from the village where the drums had been beaten. Two men came,
and they thought likewise that our party was south-east; but in that
direction the water was about fifteen inches in spots and three feet in
others, which caused constant dragging of the large canoe all day, and
at last we unloaded at another branch of the Muanakazi with a village of
friendly people. We slept there.
All hands at the large canoe could move her only a few feet. Putting
all their strength to her, she stopped at every haul with a jerk, as if
in a bank of adhesive plaister. I measured the crown of a papyrus plant
or palm, it was three feet across horizontally, its stalk eight feet in
height. Hundreds of a large dark-grey hairy caterpillar have nearly
cleared off the rushes in spots, and now live on each other. They can
make only the smallest progress by swimming or rather wriggling in the
water: their motion is that of a watch-spring thrown down, dilating and
contracting.
_9th April, 1873._--After two hours' threading the very winding, deep
channel of this southern branch of the Muanakazi, we came to where our
land party had crossed it and gone on to Gandochité, a chief on the
Lolotikila. My men were all done up, so I hired a man to call some of
his friends to take the loads; but he was stopped by his relations in
the way, saying, "You ought to have one of the traveller's own people
with you." He returned, but did not tell us plainly or truly till this
morning.
[The recent heavy exertions, coupled with constant exposure and extreme
anxiety and annoyance, no doubt brought on the severe attack which is
noticed, as we see in the words of the next few days.]
_10th April, 1873._--The headman of the village explained, and we sent
two of our men, who had a night's rest with the turnagain fellow of
yesterday. I am pale, bloodless, and; weak from bleeding profusely ever
since the 31st of March last: an artery gives off a copious stream, and
takes away my strength. Oh, how I long to be permitted by the Over Power
to finish my work.
_12th April, 1873._--Cross the Muanakazi. It is about 100 or 130 yards
broad, and deep. Great loss of _aíµa_ made me so weak I could hardly
walk, but tottered along nearly two hours, and then lay down quite
done. Cooked coffee--our last--and went on, but in an hour I was
compelled to lie down. Very unwilling to be carried, but on being
pressed I allowed the men to help me along by relays to Chinama, where
there is much cultivation. We camped in a garden of dura.
_13th April, 1873._--Found that we had slept on the right bank of the
Lolotikila, a sluggish, marshy-looking river, very winding, but here
going about south-west. The country is all so very flat that the rivers
down here are of necessity tortuous. Fish and other food abundant, and
the people civil and reasonable. They usually partake largely of the
character of the chief, and this one, Gondochité, is polite. The sky is
clearing, and the S.E. wind is the lower stratum now. It is the dry
season well begun. Seventy-three inches is a higher rainfall than has
been observed anywhere else, even in northern Manyuema; it was lower by
inches than here far south on the watershed. In fact, this is the very
heaviest rainfall known in these latitudes; between fifty and sixty is
the maximum.
One sees interminable grassy prairies with lines of trees, occupying
quarters of miles in breadth, and these give way to bouga or prairie
again. The bouga is flooded annually, but its vegetation consists of dry
land grasses. Other bouga extend out from the Lake up to forty miles,
and are known by aquatic vegetation, such as lotus, papyrus, arums,
rushes of different species, and many kinds of purely aquatic subaqueous
plants which send up their flowers only to fructify in the sun, and then
sink to ripen one bunch after another. Others, with great
cabbage-looking leaves, seem to remain always at the bottom. The young
of fish swarm, and bob in and out from the leaves. A species of soft
moss grows on most plants, and seems to be good fodder for fishes,
fitted by hooked or turned-up noses to guide it into their maws.
One species of fish has the lower jaw turned down into a hook, which
enables the animal to hold its mouth close to the plant, as it glides up
or down, sucking in all the soft pulpy food. The superabundance of
gelatinous nutriment makes these swarmers increase in bulk with
extraordinary rapidity, and the food supply of the people is plenteous
in consequence. The number of fish caught by weirs, baskets, and nets
now, as the waters decline, is prodigious. The fish feel their element
becoming insufficient for comfort, and retire from one bouga to another
towards the Lake; the narrower parts are duly prepared by weirs to take
advantage of their necessities; the sun heat seems to oppress them and
force them to flee. With the south-east aerial current comes heat and
sultriness. A blanket is scarcely needed till the early hours of the
morning, and here, after the turtle doves and cocks give out their
warning calls to the watchful, the fish-eagle lifts up his remarkable
voice. It is pitched in a high falsetto key, very loud, and seems as if
he were calling to some one in the other world. Once heard, his weird
unearthly voice can never be forgotten--it sticks to one through life.
We were four hours in being ferried over the Loitikila, or Lolotikila,
in four small canoes, and then two hours south-west down its left bank
to another river, where our camp has been formed. I sent over a present
to the headman, and a man returned with the information that he was ill
at another village, but his wife would send canoes to-morrow to transport
us over and set us on our way to Muanazambamba, south-west, and over
Lolotikila again.
_14th April, 1873._--At a branch of the Lolotikila.
_15th April, 1873._--Cross Lolotikila again (where it is only fifty
yards) by canoes, and went south-west an hour. I, being very weak, had
to be carried part of the way. Am glad of resting; _aíµa_ flow
copiously last night. A woman, the wife of the chief, gave a present of
a goat and maize.
_16th April, 1873._--Went south-west two and a half hours, and crossed
the Lombatwa River of 100 yards in width, rush deep, and flowing fast in
aquatic vegetation, papyrus, &c., into the Loitikila. In all about three
hours south-west.
_17th April, 1873._--A tremendous rain after dark burst all our now
rotten tents to shreds. Went on at 6.35 A.M. for three hours, and I, who
was suffering severely all night, had to rest. We got water near the
surface by digging in yellow sand. Three hills now appear in the
distance. Our course, S.W. three and three-quarter hours to a village on
the Kazya River. A Nyassa man declared that his father had brought the
heavy rain of the 16th on us. We crossed three sponges.
_18th April, 1873._--On leaving the village on the Kazya, we forded it
and found it seventy yards broad, waist to breast deep all over. A large
weir spanned it, and we went on the lower side of that. Much papyrus and
other aquatic plants in it. Fish are returning now with the falling
waters, and are guided into the rush-cones set for them. Crossed two
large sponges, and I was forced to stop at a village after travelling
S.W. for two hours: very ill all night, but remembered that the bleeding
and most other ailments in this land are forms of fever. Took two
scruple doses of quinine, and stopped it quite.
_19th April, 1873._--A fine bracing S.E. breeze kept me on the donkey
across a broad sponge and over flats of white sandy soil and much
cultivation for an hour and a half, when we stopped at a large village
on the right bank of,[32] and men went over to the chief Muanzambamba to
ask canoes to cross to-morrow. I am excessively weak, and but for the
donkey could not move a hundred yards. It is not all pleasure this
exploration. The Lavusi hills are a relief tothe eye in this flat
upland. Their forms show an igneous origin. The river Kazya comes from
them and goes direct into the Lake. No observations now, owing to great
weakness; I can scarcely hold the pencil, and my stick is a burden. Tent
gone; the men build a good hut for me and the luggage. S.W. one and a
half hour.
_20th April, 1873, Sunday._--Service. Cross over the sponge, Moenda, for
food and to be near the headman of these parts, Moanzambamba. I am
excessively weak. Village on Moenda sponge, 7 A.M. Cross Lokulu in a
canoe. The river is about thirty yards broad, very deep, and flowing in
marshes two knots from S.S.B. to N.N.W. into Lake.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] It will be observed that these islets were in reality slight
eminences standing above water on the flooded plains which border on
Lake Bangweolo. The men say that the actual deep-water Lake lay away
to their right, and on being asked why Dr. Livingstone did not make a
short cut across to the southern shore, they explain that the canoes
could not live for an hour on the Lake, but were merely suited for
punting about over the flooded land.--Ed.
[29] Defoe's book, 'Adventures of Captain Singleton,' is alluded to.
It would almost appear as if Defoe must have come across some unknown
African traveller who gave him materials for this work.--Ed.
[30] This was written on his last birthday.--ED.
[31] Dr. Livingstone's object was to keep the land party marching
parallel to him whilst he kept nearer to the Lake in a canoe.--ED.
[32] He leaves room for a name which perhaps in his exhausted state he
forgot to ascertain.