FOURTH VOYAGE TO THE CAPE--THE VICTORIA FALLS AND SIX WEEKS
NORTH OF THE ZAMBESI[44]
"We propose now to go on and cross the Zambesi just below
the Victoria Falls. I should like to have the spray of the
water over the carriages."--_Letter from the Right Hon. C.J.
Rhodes to E.S. Grogan, Esq., September 7, 1900._[45]
These words came to my mind as I sat under the verandah of one of the
newly thatched huts which formed the camp of the Native Commissioner at
Livingstone, Victoria Falls, on a glorious morning early in July, 1903,
gazing at one of the fairest landscapes to be seen on God's earth. I was
ostensibly occupied with my mail home, but the paper lay in all its
virgin whiteness before me, while my eyes feasted on the marvellous
panorama stretching away to the south, east, and west. My heart sank as
I realized how difficult--nay, impossible--it would be for anyone with
only a very limited vocabulary and very moderate powers of description
to convey to those far away even a limited idea of this glorious
vision--of these vivid colourings intensified by the lonely grandeur of
the whole scene and the absence of human habitations.
"Constitution Hill," as the aforesaid camp had been christened, was
situated on high ground, four miles to the north of the then drift of
the Zambesi River, which, again, was several miles above the actual
falls themselves. With the advent of the railway and of the magnificent
bridge now spanning the mighty river, that drift has actually fallen
into disuse, but at the time of our visit it was the scene of much
activity, and quite a nest of stores, houses, and huts, had sprung up
near the rough landing-stage on the north side. As transport, not only
for individuals and for every ounce of food required by the vast country
stretching away to the north, but also for the huge and valuable
machinery, boilers, boats in sections, etc., destined for the various
mining companies, the only means of maintaining communication with the
struggling but promising new colony were one very rickety steam-launch
and one large rowing-boat, beside a few canoes and native dug-outs. A
fine steam-barge, which would greatly have facilitated the passage of
all kinds of merchandise, had most disastrously slipped its moorings
during one stormy night of last wet season, and had not since been
seen, the presumption being that the relentless stream had carried it to
the mighty cataract, which, like a huge ogre, had engulfed it for all
time. But this disaster had not caused anything like consternation among
the small community to whom it meant so much, and the thought occurred
to one how remarkable are the qualities of dogged perseverance, calm
disregard of drawbacks and of any difficult task before them, which
makes Englishmen so marvellously successful as pioneers or colonists.
The precious barge for which they had waited many weary months had
disappeared, and there was nothing more to be said. Such means as
remained were made the most of.
Owing to this calamity, however, the stores on the north bank were
wellnigh run out of their usual stock, but I was amazed to find such
luxuries of life as eau de Cologne, scented soaps, ladies' boots and
shoes, and brightly coloured skirts. Leaving the small river
township--the embryo Livingstone--we followed a very sandy road uphill
till we reached the summit of Constitution Hill, already mentioned.
There our buggy and two small, well-bred ponies swept into a
smartly-kept compound surrounded by a palisade, the feature of the
square being a flagstaff from which the Union Jack was proudly
fluttering. As a site for a residence Constitution Hill could not well
be surpassed, and many a millionaire would cheerfully have given his
thousands to obtain such a view as that which met our eyes from the
humble huts, and held me enthralled during the whole of my stay. It must
be remembered we had been travelling, since leaving the rail-head,
eighty miles north of Bulawayo, through a thickly wooded and mountainous
country where any extensive views were rare. Even when nearing the
Zambesi, with the roar of the Falls in one's ears, so little opening-up
had hitherto been done that only an occasional peep of coming glories
was vouchsafed us; hence the first glimpse of a vast stretch of country
was all the more striking. I must ask my readers to imagine the bluest
of blue skies; an expanse of waving grass of a golden hue, resembling an
English cornfield towards the harvest time, stretching away till it is
lost in far-distant tropical vegetation of intense green, which green
clearly marks the course of the winding Zambesi; again, amid this
emerald verdure, patches of turquoise water, wide, smooth, unruffled,
matching the heavens in its hue, are to be seen--no touch of man's hand
in the shape of houses or chimneys to mar the effect of Nature and
Nature's colouring. If you follow with your eyes this calm, reposeful
river, now hiding itself beneath its protecting banks with their wealth
of branching trees, tall cocoanut palms, and luxuriant undergrowth, now
emerging like a huge blue serpent encrusted with diamonds, so brightly
does the clear water sparkle in the sun, you note that it finally loses
itself in a heavy, impenetrable mass of green forest. And now for a few
moments the newcomer is puzzled to account for a dense white cloud,
arisen apparently from nowhere, which is resting where the forest is
thickest and most verdant, now larger, then smaller, anon denser or more
filmy, but never changing its place, never disappearing, while the
distant thunder, to which you had almost got accustomed, strikes upon
your ear and gives the explanation you are seeking.
Yes, that white cloud has been there for centuries, and will be there
while the world lasts, in spite of trains, bridges, etc. It marks the
Victoria Falls, and is a landmark for many miles round. How amazed must
the great Livingstone and his intrepid followers have been to see this
first sign of their grand discovery after their weary march through a
country of dense forests and sandy wastes, the natural features of which
could not in the least have suggested such marvels as exist in the
stupendous river and the water-power to which it gives birth! When
mentioning that great explorer--whose name in this district, after a
lapse of nearly fifty years, remains a household word among the natives,
handed down from father to son--it is a curious fact, and one that
should prove a lesson to many travellers from the old world as well as
from the new, that only on one tree is he believed to have cut his
initials in Africa, and that tree stands on the island in the centre of
the Zambesi, the island that bears his name, and that absolutely
overhangs and stems the centre of the awe-inspiring cataract.
I must now try in a few words to give a short account of what we saw at
the Victoria Falls in July, 1903, when the breath of civilization had
scarcely touched them. To-day they are easy of access, and the changes
that have been wrought have come so swiftly that, no doubt, recent
visitors will scarcely recognize the localities of which I write. I must
first ask such to be lenient with me, and to follow me down the sandy
road leading from the Constitution Hill Compound to the Controller's
Camp on the bank of the river, about two miles nearer the Falls. There
were to be seen a collection of huts and offices, where the Controller
conducted his important business of food-purveyor to the community, and
a Government inspector of cattle had equally arduous duties to perform.
I must mention that, owing to disease in the south, cattle were then not
allowed to cross the Zambesi, and horses and dogs had to be disinfected
before they were permitted to leave the south bank. Their troubles were
not even then over, as they had to be swum across the river, and, owing
to its enormous width, the poor horses were apt to become exhausted
halfway over, and had to be towed the rest of the way, their heads being
kept out of the water--an operation attended with a certain amount of
risk. It followed that very few horses were crossed over at all, and
that these animals in North-Western Rhodesia were at a premium.
From the Controller's Camp I had another opportunity to admire the river
itself, just as wonderful in its way as the Falls, and I remember
thinking of the delights that might be derived from boating, sailing, or
steaming, on its vast surface. Since that day the enterprising
inhabitants have actually held regattas on the mighty stream, in which
some of the best-known men in the annals of rowing in England have taken
part. But seven years ago our river trip was attended with mild
excitements; the small skiff, carrying our party of six, was an
excessively leaky canoe, which had to be incessantly baled out to keep
it afloat, and wherein, notwithstanding our efforts, a deep pool of
water accumulated, necessitating our sitting with feet tucked under us
in Oriental fashion. Hence I cannot say we realized to the full the
enjoyments of boating as we know it at home in far less beautiful
surroundings, or as others know it there at the present time.
The principal features that struck me were, first, the colossal width
of the river. As we gazed across the translucent surface, reflecting as
in a looking-glass the fringe of trees along the edge, the first
impression was that your eyes actually perceived the opposite bank; but
we were undeceived by one of the residents, who observed that was only
an island, and that there were several such between us and the north
side. Secondly, we marvelled at the clearness of the water, reflecting
the blueness above; and, thirdly, at the rich vegetation and the intense
green of the overhanging foliage, where the graceful and so rarely seen
palms of the Borassus tribe were growing to an immense height. All was
enhanced by the most intense solitude, which seemed to accentuate the
fact that this scene of Nature was indeed as God left it. These
reflections were made as we floated on in our rickety canoe to a creek,
where we landed to walk to the actual Falls. A new path had just been
cut in the wooded part of the north bank, and we were almost the first
visitors to profit by it. Formerly the enterprising sight-seers had to
push their way through the scrubby undergrowth, but we followed a smooth
track for two miles, the roar of the cataract getting louder and louder,
with only occasional peeps of the river, which was fast losing its calm
repose and degenerating into restless rapids hurrying on to their
bourne. Now and then a buck would dance across our path, pause
affrighted for an instant at the unusual sight of man, and bound away
again into the thickness beyond; and once three fine wart-hogs almost
stumbled into our party, only to gallop away again like greyhounds,
before the rifles, which were carried by the black boys behind, could be
made use of.
At last we emerged suddenly, without any warning, on the northern
extremity of the cataract, which at this point measures over a mile from
bank to bank, but of which only about a quarter of that distance is
visible, owing to the blinding spray. It is wellnigh impossible to
describe a scene of such wonder, such wildness. It is awe-inspiring,
almost terrible in its force and majesty, and the accompanying din
prevents speech from being heard. Standing on a point flush with the
river before it makes its headlong leap, we gazed first on the swirling
water losing itself in snowy spray, which beat relentlessly on face and
clothes, while the great volume was nosily disappearing to unknown and
terrifying depths. The sight-seer tries to look across, to strain his
eyes and to see beyond that white mist which obscures everything; but it
is an impossible task, and he can but guess the width of the Falls,
slightly horseshoe in shape, from the green trees which seem so far away
on the opposite bank, and are only caught sight of now and then as the
wind causes the spray to lift. At the same time his attention is fixed
by a new wonder, the much-talked-of rainbow. Never varying, never
changing, that perfect-shaped arc is surely more typical of eternity
there than anywhere else. Its perfection of colours seems to be
reflected again and yet again in the roaring torrent, and to be also an
emblem of peace where all is turmoil. We were hurried away to remove our
wet rainproof coats and to dry our hats and faces in the brilliant
sunshine. It seemed as if the Falls guard their beauties jealously, and
do not allow the spectator to gaze on them without paying the price of
being saturated by their spray. For the next two hours we were taken
from one point of vantage to the other, and yet felt we had not seen
half of even what is known as the north side. We were shown the barely
commenced path leading right away down to the edge of the foaming,
boiling gorge, which is to be known as "The Lovers' Walk," and from its
steepness it occurred to me that these same lovers will require to
possess some amount of endurance. We examined from afar the precipitous
Neck jutting right out opposite the main cataract, its sides running
sheer down to unfathomable depths of water, which has caused this rocky
formation to be called "The Knife's Edge," and along which, up to the
date of our visit, only two men had ventured. We saw the actual site
for the existing railway-bridge, which site had only been finally
selected a few days before by two of the party who were with us.[46] The
travellers over this great work now see all we saw on that long morning,
and a great deal more besides, while the carriage windows are soused by
the all-pervading spray, thus carrying out one of Mr. Rhodes's cherished
sentiments. Finally--musing at the marvellous and confusing twists and
turns of the river, changing in character and appearance so as to be
wellnigh unrecognizable--we walked on a hundred yards, and came upon a
deep, deep gorge, rocky, barren, and repelling, at the bottom of which,
sluggish and dirty in colour, a grey stream was winding its way, not a
hundred yards wide, but of unfathomable depths; and this represented the
Zambesi _after_ it has taken its great leap, when, bereft of all life
and beauty, it verily looks tired out. This gorge continues for forty
miles, and so desolate is the surrounding country, that not only is it
uninhabited by man, but even game cannot live there. The shadows were
lengthening and the day was approaching its close. Early on the morrow
we were to leave for the northern hunting grounds. We regained our canoe,
and paddled away to our temporary camp.
Again we were delighted with the calm beauty of that river scene, and
found it difficult to decide when it was most beautiful--whether the
morning light best gilded its glories or whether the evening lent
additional calm. We passed island after island in bewildering
succession. Away towards the drift three huge black masses were
splashing in the water, which we easily made out to be hippopotami
taking their evening bath, and as we glided along a sleepy crocodile
slipped back into the water from a muddy eminence where it had been
basking in the sun. Then our canoe ran into a creek where leaves and
ferns grew in delightful confusion, and we landed in soft marshy ground
just as the sun was sinking like a red ball into the river, and giving
way to the sovereignty of a glorious full moon, which soon tinged
everything with a silver light, making glades of palms look delightfully
romantic.
Civilization has since found its way to Livingstone. Engines are
whistling and trains are rumbling where then the only tracks were made
by the huge hippos and the shy buck, but they can never efface the
grandeur of the river in its size and calmness; the incomparable
magnificence of the cataract itself; the rainbow, which one cannot see
without retaining a lasting impression of its beauty; and, lastly, that
cloud of white spray, seemingly a sentinel to watch over the strength
and might of the huge river, for so many ages undiscovered.
Many who knew the Falls in their pristine solitude have gladly welcomed
there the advent of twentieth-century developments, of sign-posts, of
advertisements, of seats, of daily posts and papers; but others, some of
the older pioneers, still, perchance, give a passing sigh for the days
when they paddled about the river in a leaky canoe, and letters and
telegrams were not events of everyday occurrence.
In spite of the railway constructed since our visit, few people,
comparatively, have been to North-Western Rhodesia, and yet it is a
country of over 400,000 square miles. It was in October, 1897, that the
then administrator of the country,[47] with five policemen, crossed the
Zambesi and declared the territory to be under the protection of Her
Late Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria. For many years previously the
natives, who are not of a particularly warlike disposition, had been
decimated, and the country laid waste, by the fierce Matabele, who were
in the habit of making periodical raids into this fair land, and of
killing the old men and the young warriors, who made but a slight
resistance; of annexing the attractive ladies as wives and the fat
cattle as prized booty, and then of retreating again south of the mighty
river without fear of reprisals. For this reason there was, in 1903, a
very meagre population for many hundreds of miles north of the Zambesi
in this direction; and of cattle, for which there is pasture in
abundance, there was hardly one to be seen. One has to travel much
farther north and west to find the densely populated valleys, whose
inhabitants own Lewanika, Chief of the Barotse, as their ruler, who look
to the great white British King as their protector, and to the Chartered
Company as the immediate purveyor of their wants.
Of these natives the chief tribes are, first, the Barotse themselves,
who are the most numerous, and who inhabit the low-lying country along
the Zambesi Valley north of Sesheke, and up to Lia-Lui, their capital.
The second in importance are the Mushukulumbwe, which, translated
literally, means "naked people." This designation was given them as a
reproach by their friends, as the male element wear no clothes; and
should they possess a blanket, they would only throw it round their
shoulders whilst standing still or sitting down. When remonstrated with
by the well-meaning missionaries on the absence of any attire, they are
wont to reply: "Are we women or children, that we should fear the cold?
Our fathers needed no clothes, nor do we." They are keen hunters and
trackers, essentially a warlike people, tall and good-looking, while the
women also are of more than average height, and gracefully made. What
the men lack in clothes they make up for in their head-dress, which has
been so often illustrated, and which is sometimes 5 feet in height. It
is the result of much care and trouble, and the cause of great pride to
the wearer. Ruled over by a number of small chiefs, they mostly own
Lewanika as their paramount chief, and to him they pay tribute. They are
withal a curious, wild kind of people, but are now becoming less afraid
of, and in consequence less hostile to, the white man, the first of
whose race they saw in 1888, when Mr. Selous[48] penetrated into their
country, and very nearly lost his life at their hands. Now they are
well-disposed, and it is safe to travel through their land with a
comparatively small escort.
Thirdly, the Batokas. These are, and always have been, a servile race.
They are lazy in disposition, for the most part of unprepossessing
appearance, and their country has the Kafue River on the east, and the
Zambesi on the south, as natural boundaries. As carriers they do fairly
well, and, while also owning Lewanika's authority, they are well aware
of the fact that this chief only rules in virtue of the support of the
"Great King" in a far-off land, whom they often hear of, but can never
hope to see.
In consequence of having lived for so many generations in terror of
being raided by their more bellicose neighbours, all these tribes
acclaimed with joy the advent of their English protectors, and their
demeanour is strikingly expressive of gratitude and respect. This is
evinced by their native greeting, which consists of sitting down and
clapping their hands together in a slow rhythm whenever a white man
passes. Sometimes a traveller hears this clapping proceeding out of the
immensely high and thick grass which encloses the road, and he is by
this sound alone made aware of the presence of a human being. Their food
consists entirely of grain, which they greatly prefer to meat, even when
this is offered to them. They boil this grain, which resembles millet or
canary seed, into a sort of porridge, which they eat with the greatest
gusto, and one meal a day seems to suffice them.
And now to describe the fatherland of these natives, just emerging as it
is from darkness and strife to prosperity, peace, and, quite possibly,
riches beyond the dreams of avarice, but in any case riches,
sufficiently proved to enable it to take its place ere long among the
treasure-producing territories of God's earth. Once north of the
Zambesi, and with the thunder of those magnificent Falls still ringing
in one's ears, two things were evident even to the most casual
traveller--viz., the changed aspect of the country and of its
inhabitants. Of the latter and of their quaint greeting I have already
spoken. And as regards the road itself and the surrounding landscape
there is a still greater change. Instead of a track of deep sand blocked
with huge stones or by veritable chasms of soft, crumbling earth, one
finds there good roads, while numerous streams of clear running water
constantly intersect the highway. In England it is difficult to realize
the inestimable boon this plentiful supply of water is to the traveller
and his beasts, who are thereby saved the very serious necessity of
frequently having to push on, weary and thirsty, another stretch of
eight or ten miles, simply because of the oft-heard cry, "No water." The
scenery itself is fair and restful to the eye; there are no huge
mountains, no precipitous dongas, yet an ever-changing kaleidoscope
which prevents any monotony. Now the road winds for several miles
through woods and some small trees; again, these are left behind, and
the traveller emerges on plains of yellow waving grass (so high as to
hide both horse and rider), resembling from afar an English
barleyfield, and broken up by clumps of symmetrically arranged trees.
In these clumps the tropical euphorbia sends up its long and graceful
shoots, reminding one of Gargantuan candelabra, and the huge "baobab,"
of unwieldy bulk, seems to stand as the sentinel stretching out its bare
arms to protect those who shelter beneath. These trees are the great
feature of the country, owing to the enormous size they attain, and to
the fact that, being the slowest-growing trees known, their ages can
only be reckoned by thousands of years. Except these kings of the
forest, the trees indigenous to the land are somewhat dwarfed, but cacti
of all kinds flourish, clinging to and hanging from the branches of the
mahogany and of the "m'pani" trees, looking now and then for all the
world like long green snakes. The "m'hoba-hoba" bush, with its enormous
leaves, much loved by the elephant, forms patches of vivid green summer
and winter. This shrub is supposed to have been introduced by the
Phoenicians, when these wonderful people were occupied with their
mineral workings in this land, the remains of which are to be seen in
many places. In the grass itself, and round the edge of these groups so
artistically assorted by the hand of Nature, lies slyly hidden the
"wait-a-bit" bush,[49] according to the literal translation from the
Dutch, whose thorny entanglements no one can gauge unless fairly
caught.
During July and August, which is mid-winter, the grass plains are set on
fire, in parts purposely, but sometimes accidentally. They are usually
left intact near the road, for transport oxen find plenty of pasture in
the coarse high grass which no other animal will touch; but the seeker
after game will burn miles and miles of this grass when it is
sufficiently dry at the roots. It has acted as a sheltering mantle for
its four-footed population for many months, and now the "hunters' moon"
is fairly risen and the buck must beware. Therefore, if one leaves the
road for two or three miles to the right or left, vast black plains are
discovered, on which only about a fortnight after burning a very vivid
green, and, it is said, a very sweet, grass springs up, which game of
all sorts greatly love. Here they graze in herds morning and evening,
and here probably they meet their death--but of this more anon. It took
our party ten days to reach Kalomo,[50] then the capital of
North-Western Rhodesia. This included a six days' halt in quest of game
on a rocky kopje eight miles off the road--a veritable Spion Kop, rising
from a flat country and commanding views for miles round.
As regards travelling, I can only say it was very comfortable as we did
it. Riding ourselves, our baggage (divided into loads each weighing
about 30 pounds) was carried by natives, who generally preceded us out
of camp. The day's journey was divided as follows: Up before the sun,
and dressing by the uncertain light of a candle lantern. It was cold
enough to render no dawdling possible, and one hurried one's toilet in
order to get to the already brightly burning fire and steaming hot
coffee. The sun would just then be showing its red head in the far east,
and already the camp was in commotion; tents were being struck, bedding
rolled up, while a certain amount of scrambling would be going on
amongst the cunning blacks, each wishing to possess himself of the
lightest load. To prevent shirking, one or two of the native police who
accompanied us watched the proceeding with lynx-like eyes, and, amid
much arguing, chattering, and apparent confusion, a long line of
carriers would emerge like a black snake from the camping-ground into an
orderly string--quaint figures, some of them wrapped in gaudy blankets,
and even then shivering in the keen morning air; some with their load on
their heads, others carrying it on long sticks, all with the inevitable
native vessel, fashioned from a gourd, containing their daily ration of
grain. As a supplement to these carriers, we were also accompanied by
the (in Africa) familiar "Scotch cart." In other words, this is a strong
cart on two wheels, drawn by bullocks, and its usual pace is about two
and a half miles an hour. It apparently possesses the delightful
qualification of being able to travel on any road, no matter how rough,
without breaking down or turning over; in fact, when travelling by road
in Africa, it facilitates matters as much as the employment of a
charwoman oils the wheels in an English household, and it is therefore
as much to be recommended.
We ride for an hour or so with coats tightly buttoned up, blue noses,
and frozen fingers--for the hoar-frost still lingers on the ground--but
the air is delightfully exhilarating, and we know that we shall not have
to complain of the cold long. By degrees the sun makes itself felt, and
we discard first one wrap and then another, till by ten o'clock even
light overcoats are not required. And now it is time to "off-saddle" and
breakfast. The carriers straggle in more or less in the order they left,
but they gladly "dump" down their loads, and before many minutes the
fire is burning and the breakfast frizzling. After breakfast comes the
midday rest of two or three hours, beguiled by some ancient newspapers
or some dust-begrimed book. It is remarkable that, when far away from
home, the date of a newspaper is of little import, while none are voted
dull, and one finds oneself reading the most obscure publications, and
vaguely wondering how or why they reached this distant land. At two
o'clock marching orders come again. This is the hot trek, but there is
generally a cool breeze to temper the fierce rays of the winter's sun;
and when that sun gets low down on to the horizon, and becomes a crimson
ball, tingeing the world with its rosy hue, we look about for our
evening resting-place. During our journey to Kalomo, as well as on our
southward route a month later, we enjoyed the light of a glorious moon,
whose assistance to the traveller cannot be exaggerated when the short
twilight is remembered. By the moon we frequently made our camp, by the
moon we dined. Those were never-to-be-forgotten evenings, spent on that
lonely veldt all bathed in silver light. We also had excitements--much
lions' spoor on the roads by day, many scares of lions round the camps
by night, when the danger is that the horses may be taken while the camp
is asleep. Every evening our animals were put into a "skerm," or high
palisade, constructed of branches by the ubiquitous carriers with
marvellous rapidity.
One dark night before the moon had risen, just as we had finished dinner
and were sitting round the fire listening to thrilling stories of sport
and adventure, a terrific noise suddenly disturbed our peaceful
circle--a noise which proceeded from a dark mass of thick bush not 200
yards away, and recalled one's childish recollections of "feeding-time"
at the Zoo. Not one, but five or six lions, might have been thus near to
us from the volume of growls and snarls, varied by short deep grunts,
which broke the intense stillness of the night in this weird fashion.
Each man rushed for his rifle, but it was too dark to shoot, and
gradually the noise died away. The natives opined it was a slight
difference of opinion between some wolves and a lion, which animals,
curiously enough, very often hunt in company, the lion doing the
killing, and the wolf prowling along behind and picking up the scraps.
It was but an incident, but it served as an uncanny reminder of the many
eyes of the animal world, which, though unseen, are often watching
travellers in these solitudes. Another night, when we were encamped in
the very heart of a rumoured "lion country," ourselves and our beasts
securely protected by an unusually high and thick "skerm," we were, to
our regret, left undisturbed; but the aforementioned Scotch cart, which
rumbled away from the sleeping camp about midnight, had a series of
adventures with _Leo felis_. Sniffing the fat oxen, no less than three
lions followed the waggon all night, charging close up at times, and
finally causing the oxen to stampede, in consequence of which, instead
of finding the precious vehicle, containing grain for carriers and
forage for horses, at the next outspan, we did not come up with it till
evening, nearly thirty miles farther on, when we learnt the adventures
it had had.
The truth regarding lion-shooting in these parts is, that the animals
are exceedingly difficult to locate, and the finding of them is a matter
of pure luck. The traveller may, of course, meet a lion on the road by
broad daylight; but many experienced hunters, who count their slain
lions by the dozen, will tell you they were years in the country before
they ever saw the kings of beasts, and these are men who do not belittle
the danger incurred in hunting them. One old hunter is supposed to have
said to an enthusiastic newcomer, who had heard of a lion in the
vicinity, and immediately asked the old stager if he were going after
it: "I have not lost any lions, therefore I am not looking for any";
but, all the same, to kill one or more fine specimens will ever remain
the summit of the ambition of the hunter, and unquestionably the spice
of danger is one of the attractions.
At the time of which I write the township of Kalomo consisted of about
twenty white people, including the Administrator, his secretary and
staff; the Chancellor of the Exchequer, or Accountant, who controlled
the purse; a doctor, whose time was fairly well taken up; an aspiring
light of the legal profession, who made and interpreted the laws; and,
finally, the gallant Colonel and officers of the North-Western Rhodesia
Native Police, a smart body of 380 natives, officered by eleven or
twelve Englishmen. To Colonel Colin Harding, C.M.G., was due the credit
of recruiting and drilling this smart corps, and it was difficult to
believe that these soldierly-looking men, very spruce in their dark blue
tunics and caps, from which depend enormous red tassels, were only a
short time ago idling away their days in uninviting native kraals.
I was much impressed in a Kalomo house with the small details of a
carefully arranged dinner-table, adorned with flowers and snowy linen;
the cooking was entirely done by black boys, and of these the "Chinde"
boys from the Portuguese settlements are much sought after, and cannot
be excelled as cooks or servants, so thoroughly do the Portuguese
understand the training of natives. The staple meat was buck of all
kinds; sheep were wellnigh unknown, oxen were scarce and their meat
tough; but no one need grumble at a diet of buck, wild-pig, koran,[51]
guinea-fowl, and occasionally wild-duck. As regards other necessities of
life, transport difficulties were enormous; every ounce of food besides
meat, and including precious liquids, had then to be dragged over
nearly 250 miles of indifferent roads; and not only groceries, but
furniture, roofs of houses, clothes--all had to be ordered six to eight
months before they were required, and even then disappointments occurred
in the way of waggons breaking down, of delays at the rail-head and at
the crossing of the river. To us who are accustomed to the daily calls
of the butcher, the baker, and the grocer, the foresight which had to be
exercised is difficult to realize, and with the best management in the
world great philosophy was required to put up with the minor wants.
As to the climate of North-Western Rhodesia in the dry season--which
lasts from April or May to November, or even later--it is ideal. Never
too hot to prevent travelling or doing business in the heat of the day,
it is cold enough morning and evening to make fur coats by no means
superfluous; rain is unknown, and of wind there is just enough to be
pleasant, although now and then, especially towards sunset or before
dawn, a very strong breeze springs up from a cloudless horizon, lasts
about thirty minutes, making the trees bend and tents flap and rattle,
and then dies away again as suddenly as it has come. Sometimes, in the
early morning, this breeze is of an icy coldness, and might be blowing
straight from the South Pole. During the dry season the traveller should
not contract fever, unless he happens to have the germs in his system,
and in this case he may have been immune the whole wet season, and then
the first cold weather brings out the disease and lays him low.
I must now devote a few words to the veldt and to its animal life as we
learnt to know it during some delightful weeks spent in camp eight miles
from the township, where game was then still abundant. There we lived in
comfortable tents, and our dining-room was built of grass held in place
by substantial sticks. The delight of those days is fresh in my memory.
Up and on our horses at dawn, we would wander over this open country,
intersected with tracks of forest. The great charm was the uncertainty
of the species of game we might discover. It might be a huge eland, or
an agile pig, or a herd of beautiful zebra. Now and then a certain
amount of stalking was required, and on one occasion a long ride round
brought us to the edge of a wood, from whence we viewed at twenty yards
a procession of wildebeeste--those animals of almost mythical
appearance, with their heads like horses and their bodies like
cattle--roan antelope, and haartebeeste; but as a rule, the game having
been so little shot at, with an ordinary amount of care the hunter can
ride to within shooting distance of the animal he would fain lay low.
Should they take fright and be off, we found to gallop after them was
not much use, owing to the roughness of the veldt and the smallness of
the ponies. Occasionally we had to pursue a wounded animal, and one day
we had an exciting chase after a wildebeeste, the most difficult of all
bucks to kill, as their vitality, unless absolutely shot through the
heart, is marvellous. When we at last overtook and finished off the poor
creature, we had out-distanced all our "boys," and it became necessary
for my fellow-sportsman to ride off and look for them (as the meat had
to be cut up and carried into camp), and for me to remain behind to keep
the aas-vogels from devouring the carcass. These huge birds and useful
scavengers, repulsive as they are to look at, always appear from space
whenever a buck is dead, and five minutes suffices for a party of them
to be busily employed, while a quarter of an hour later nothing is left
but the bones. Therefore I was left alone with the dead wildebeeste and
with the circling aas-vogels for upwards of two hours, and I realized,
as I had never done before, the intense loneliness of the veldt, and
something of what the horror must be of being lost on it. Even residents
have to dread this danger.
At that season the veldt boasted of few flowers, but birds were
plentiful, especially the large ones I have mentioned as forming a
valuable addition to the daily menu, and flocks of guinea-fowl, which
run along the ground making a peculiar chuckling noise, rarely flying,
but very quick at disappearing in the long grass. The quaint
secretary-bird was often to be seen stalking majestically along,
solitary and grotesque, with its high marching action. Then the
honey-birds must not be forgotten. They give voice to their peculiar
note as soon as they see a human being, whom they seem to implore to
follow them; and if they succeed in attracting attention, they fly from
tree to tree reiterating their call, till they lead the man whose
assistance they have sought to the spot where the honey is hidden, but
which they cannot reach unaided. As a rule, it is the natives who take
the trouble to obey their call and turn it to account.
The weeks slipped by all too quickly, and it was soon time to bid
farewell to Kalomo and its game-haunted flats, over which the iron horse
now winds its prosaic course on its way to the dim, mysterious North,
bringing noise and bustle in its train. In consequence the hunter and
the animal-lover have to travel farther on, but there will always be
room for all on that vast continent.
No matter what paths of life it may be the fortune of my readers to
tread, let me recommend those wearied with social bustle and the empty
amenities of present-day existence to pass a few weeks in the
comparative solitude of several pleasant companions "under the stars"
in North-Western Rhodesia, where they can still catch a glimpse of the
elusive zebras, with coats shining in the sun like burnished steel, and
hear the persistent call of the honey-bird. At night the roar of lions
may now and then cause them to turn in their sleep, and in their dreams
they may have visions of the animals that have charmed them during the
day--the stately eland, the graceful roan and sable antelopes, the
ungainly wildebeeste, and the funny old wart-hog, trotting along with
high action and tail erect. Besides gaining health and experiencing the
keenest enjoyment, they will know some of the pleasures vouchsafed to
those of their countrymen whose fate it is to live, and sometimes to
die, in far-off climes--men who have helped to make England famous, and
are now, step by step, building up our mighty Empire. Curious are the
lives these men, and many like them, lead, cut off as it were from the
bustling, throbbing world. A handful of white men, surrounded by
thousands of blacks, with calm complacency they proceed, first to
impress on the natives the importance, the might, and the justice, of
the great Empire which they represent in their various capacities; then
to establish beyond question their own dignity and wisdom; and finally
to make themselves as comfortable, and their surroundings as attractive
and homelike, as possible, with such means as they can command. They
are to be seen superintending a court of justice, looked up to and
trusted by the natives, who have quickly found out that the "boss" is
just, firm, and that he will not believe a falsehood. The blacks have
their native names for all these officials, most of them showing great
discernment, and some of quite an affectionate nature.
The Commissioners, whose work is entirely among the native population,
requiring the greatest tact and patience, besides a perfect knowledge of
the language, lead, perhaps, the most arduous, as well as the most
lonely, existences. Most of the year is occupied in making tours of
inspection through their vast districts; they live continually in the
open, in constant contact with Nature, and for weeks together they never
see a white man. Almost unattended, they move fearlessly in little-known
places, among an uncivilized if friendly people, and to some extent they
have their lives in their hands. And yet they do not regard their
solitary existence as anything to occasion surprise or admiration; they
realize the importance of their mission, and wet seasons, bad attacks of
fever, and impaired health, do not quench their energy or their keenness
for the great work of development. It is true, indeed, that one and all
live in anticipation of the biennial holiday, of the seven months spent
"at home," and that all events in their lives are dated from those
precious days in England; and then, when the time comes to return to
duty, they probably depart without a murmur, and very few, if any, would
exchange a life in an office, or that of any ordinary profession in
England, for the one, untrammelled and free, they lead in the wilds of
Africa. As distractions in this life which they love, they can only look
to the weekly mail and the goodly supply of illustrated papers from
home, the attentive perusal of which has made them almost as conversant
as the veriest Cockney with all the people of note and the fair women of
the time, besides giving them an intimate knowledge of passing events.
As hosts they are perfection, and all they have is at their guests'
disposal. Their incentive to the great work for ever going on, not only
in their district, but in so many far-away localities where the Union
Jack flies, is the knowledge that the dark clouds of oppression,
plunder, and crime, are, in consequence of their efforts, rolling away
as mists disappear before the rising sun.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] Some parts of this chapter appeared in the Christmas number of the
_Pall Mall Magazine_, 1903, and in the _Bulawayo Chronicle_ of the same
date.
[45] Introduction to Mr. Grogan's work, "From the Cape to Cairo."
[46] Sir Charles Metcalfe, Bart., consulting engineer of the Chartered
Company, and Mr. G. Pauling, contractor for the same company.
[47] R.T. Coryndon, Esq.
[48] "Life and Adventures in South-East Africa," by F.C. Selous.
[49] _Wacht-een-bietze._
[50] The seat of government has since been transferred to Livingstone,
on the Zambesi.
[51] A kind of pheasant.
APPENDIX I
MAFEKING RELIEF FUND
_Distribution Committee_.
LIEUTENANT-COLONEL C.B. VYVYAN, Commandant of Mafeking.
MR. C.G. BELL, Resident Magistrate.
MR. A.H. FREND, Mayor.
Total amount made available for distribution £29,267
Of which the Committee allotted to: £
Widows and orphans 6,536
Refugees 4,630
Town relief 3,741
Seaside Fund 2,900
Churches, convent, schools, etc. 2,900
Wounded men 2,245
Small tradesmen 1,765
Hospital staff, nuns, etc. 1,115
Colonel Plumer's Rhodesian Column, etc. 1,000
-------
£26,832
_June_ 6, 1909.
The "Rainy Day Fund," formed from the balance of the Relief Fund, still
exists, and though the amount now in it is small, it is sufficient to
enable the Trustees (Mayor of Mafeking and Civil Commissioner) to make
occasional grants in cases of distress among those who suffered during
the siege, or who have fallen on evil days since.
MAFEKING FUND, 1900.
£
Collected by Lady Georgiana Curzon 24,000
Collected by Colonel Baden-Powell's school comrades
at Charterhouse (in addition to gifts in kind) 1,150
Collected by Lady Snagge (£643) and _Birmingham
Argus_ (£350) for sending nurses, women, and children,
to seaside 993
The following sent over £100 each:
Conservative Club, Liverpool.
Melbourne Club.
Luton.
Mr. Butler, of Wellington, New Zealand.
Tunbridge Wells Imperial Association.
Right Hon. C.J. Rhodes.
Swansea, Wales.
Salisbury, Mashonaland.
Mr. J. Garlick, of Cape Town.
Mayor of Brighton.
Raleigh Club, London.
Ilfracombe.
Mr. William Nicol.
Sent by Lord Mayor of London from Mansion House
Fund 200
Mr. Leonard Rayne, theatrical impresario, of South Africa, inaugurated
the "Rayney Day Fund," with a view to ultimate calls for relief by
members of the garrison in years to come.
APPENDIX II
IMPERIAL YEOMANRY HOSPITALS, 1900-1902.
December 29, appeal signed by Lady Georgiana Curzon and Lady Chesham
sent from Blenheim Palace.
_President_: THE QUEEN.
_Vice-Presidents_: THE PRINCESS OF WALES and DUCHESS OF CONNAUGHT.
_Chairman of Committee_: COUNTESS HOWE.
_Vice-Chairmen of Committee_: COUNTESS OF WARWICK and VISCOUNTESS
VALENTIA.
_Hon. Secretary_: EARL HOWE.
_Treasurer_: LUDWIG NEUMANN, ESQ.
_Military Adviser_: MAJOR-GENERAL LORD CHEYLESMORE.
_Hon. Civilian Director and Treasurer in South Africa_: J.G. HAMILTON,
ESQ.
£ s. d.
Subscriptions received between issue of first
appeal and issue of interim report in April,
1900, £127,000. During the whole time the
subscriptions (including the first) totalled 145,325 15 7
Sale of base hospital realized 15,000 0 0
Government subsidy for prolonging maintenance
of field-hospital and bearer company,
January 1 to March 31, 1901 3,000 0 0
Sale of Elandsfontein Hospital 9,051 9 6
Bankers' interest to December 31, 1901 1,635 12 9
---------------
£174,012 17 10
From first to last, various staffs numbered over 1,400 persons, and
20,000 patients received medical aid in the different Yeomanry
Hospitals.
When the staff returned to England, medals were presented to them at
Devonshire House by the Queen.
DEELFONTEIN BASE HOSPITAL: Opened March 5, 1900; closed March 31, 1901.
Originally with 500 beds, subsequently increased to 1,000 beds. 6,093
in-patients, including 351 officers, were treated there.
MACKENZIE'S FARM, MAITLAND CAMP, BASE HOSPITAL: Opened August 2, 1900;
closed March 31, 1901. Originally with 100 beds, subsequently increased
to 150. 1,066 patients treated.
EASTWOOD, PRETORIA, BASE HOSPITAL: Opened August 18, 1900; closed
September 30, 1901. Originally with 400 beds, subsequently increased to
564 beds. 5,227 in-patients, including 466 officers, and 1,095
out-patients, treated.
ELANDSFONTEIN BASE HOSPITAL: Opened June 29, 1901; closed December 19,
1901. Originally with 50 beds, subsequently increased to 138 beds. 823
in-patients, including 27 officers, and 900 out-patients, treated.
CHESHAM CONVALESCENT HOME AT JOHANNESBURG (for Officers only): Opened
March 1, 1901; closed October 10, 1901. 8 beds. 79 patients received.
FIELD-HOSPITAL AND BEARER COMPANY, with 100 beds, left England in March,
1900; opened at the seat of war in South Africa on April 12, 1900;
closed April 1, 1901, having remained three months longer than was
originally arranged for. Subsidy of £3,000 received from Government for
this purpose.
IMPERIAL YEOMANRY HOSPITALS.
_General Committee:_
Ninety ladies, whose names are given in the first volume
of the Imperial Yeomanry Hospitals Report.
_General Working Committee:_
Lady Georgiana Curzon (Chairman).
Adeline, Duchess of Bedford.
The Duchess of Marlborough.
The Countess of Dudley.
The Countess of Essex.
The Ladies Tweedmouth and Chesham (went to Deelfontein
in early days of Imperial Yeomanry Hospitals).
Mrs. S. Neumann.
Mrs. A.G. Lucas.
Mrs. Blencowe Cookson.
Mrs. Julius Wernher (now Lady Wernher).
Madame von Andre.
_Finance Committee:_
Viscount Curzon, M.P. (now Earl Howe).
Mr. Ludwig Neumann.
Adeline, Duchess of Bedford.
Lady Chesham.
Lady Georgiana Curzon.
_Press Committee:_
The Countess of Dudley.
The Countess of Essex.
Madame von Andre.
The Duchess of Marlborough.
Lady Georgiana Curzon.
_Transport Committee:_
Lady Tweedmouth. }
Mrs. Julius Wernher. } Assisted by Major Haggard
Mrs. S. Neumann. } and General Eaton.
Mrs. A.G. Lucas. }
Lady Georgiana Curzon. }
_Gifts and Purchase Committee:_
The Countess of Essex. }
Lady Tweedmouth. } Assisted by General
Mrs. A. G. Lucas. } Eaton, Colonel Sloggett
Mrs. S. Neumann. } and Mr. Fripp, and
Lady Georgiana Curzon. } Mr. Oliver Williams.
_Medical, Nursing, and General Staffs Committee:_
The Duchess of Marlborough. }
Adeline, Duchess of Bedford. } Assisted by General
The Countess of Warwick. } Eaton, Colonel Sloggett
Lady Chesham. } and Mr. A. Downing
Madame von Andre. } Fripp.
Lady Georgiana Curzon. }
The chief workers in Ireland were: The Countess of Longford, Lady
Annette La Touche, and Mrs. Pirrie; but they were only on the General
Committee, not on any of the subcommittees.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's South African Memories, by Lady Sarah Wilson