Transcriber’s Note
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AN IVORY TRADER IN NORTH KENIA
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR.]
AN IVORY TRADER IN
NORTH KENIA
THE RECORD OF AN EXPEDITION THROUGH
KIKUYU TO GALLA-LAND IN EAST
EQUATORIAL AFRICA
_WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE RENDILI AND
BURKENEJI TRIBES_
BY
A. ARKELL-HARDWICK, F.R.G.S.
_WITH TWENTY-THREE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
PHOTOGRAPHS, AND A MAP_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1903
_All rights reserved_
To
COLONEL COLIN HARDING, C.M.G.
OF THE
BRITISH SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE
TO WHOSE KIND ENCOURAGEMENT WHEN IN COMMAND OF
FORT CHICKWAKA, MASHONALAND
THE AUTHOR OWES HIS LATER EFFORTS TO
GAIN COLONIAL EXPERIENCE
THIS WORK IS DEDICATED
PREFACE
Although there may be no justification for the production of this
work, the reader will perhaps deal leniently with me under the “First
Offenders Act.” Among the various reasons which prompted me to commit
the crime of adding a contribution to the World’s literature is the
fact that little or nothing is known concerning certain peculiar
tribes; to wit, the Rendili and Burkeneji. They are a nomadic people
whose origin is as yet wrapped in mystery. In addition to this, an
account of the trials and difficulties to be encountered in the
endeavour to obtain that rapidly vanishing commodity, ivory, will
perhaps please those into whose hands this work may fall who delight in
“moving accidents by flood and field.”
It has been to me a source of lasting regret that a great many of my
photographic negatives were in some way or other unfortunately lost on
our homeward journey, and as usually happens on such occasions, they
were those I valued most, inasmuch as they included all my photographs
of the lower course of the Waso Nyiro River and also those of the
Rendili and Burkeneji peoples. I am, however, greatly indebted to Mr.
Hazeltine Frost, M.R.P.S., of Muswell Hill, N., for the care and
skill with which he has rendered some of the remaining badly mutilated
negatives suitable for the purposes of illustration.
In the course of this narrative it will be observed that I name the
people of the various countries or districts through which we passed
by prefixing Wa- to the name of the district they inhabit. This is
in accordance with Swahili practice, as they generally designate a
native by the name of his country prefixed by an M’, which in this
case denotes a man, the plural of M’ being Wa-. The plural of M’Kamba,
or inhabitant of Ukamba, is therefore Wa’Kamba, and an M’Unyamwezi,
or inhabitant of Unyamwezi, is Wa’Nyamwezi in the plural. Doubtless
a hypercritic would argue that this rule only applies to the Swahili
language, and consequently the names of those tribes who are in no way
connected with the Swahilis would be outside the rule. He would be
right; but I am going to call them all Wa- for the sake of convenience
and to avoid confusion.
I have endeavoured to place before the reader an account of the
incidents, amusing and tragic, as they appeared to me at the time.
Should the narrative prove uninteresting, it will, I think, be due to
faulty description. The incidents related were sufficiently exciting to
stimulate the most jaded imagination, and they have the rarest of all
merits—the merit of being true.
A. A.-H.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
_PREPARATIONS AND START._
PAGE
Engaging porters—Characteristics of Swahili, Wa’Nyamwezi, and
Wa’Kamba porters—Selecting trade goods—Provisions—Arms
and ammunition—The Munipara—Sketch of some principal
porters—Personal servants—List of trade goods taken—Distributing
the loads—Refusal of the Government to register our
porters—Reported hostility of the natives—Finlay and Gibbons’
disaster—Start of the Somali safaris—We move to Kriger’s
Farm—I fall into a game-pit—Camp near Kriger’s Farm—Visitors—The
start 6
CHAPTER II.
_FROM KRIGER’S TO MARANGA._
Off to Doenyo Sabuk—Troubles of a safari—George takes a bath—The
Nairobi Falls—Eaten by ticks—My argument with a
rhinoceros—The Athi river—Good fishing—Lions—Camp near
Doenyo Sabuk—We find the Athi in flood—We build a raft—Kriger
and Knapp bid us adieu—Failure of our raft—We
cross the Athi—I open a box of cigars—Crossing the
Thika-Thika—Bad country—We unexpectedly reach the
Tana—The _détour_ to the Maragua—Crossing the Maragua—In
Kikuyuland 25
CHAPTER III.
_FROM THE TANA TO M’BU._
We reach and cross the Tana—Maranga—The abundance of food
thereof—We open a market—We treat the Maranga elders to
cigars with disastrous results—Bad character of the Wa’M’bu—We
resume our journey—A misunderstanding with the
A’kikuyu—We reach M’bu 49
CHAPTER IV.
_FROM M’BU, ACROSS EAST KENIA, TO ZURA._
First sight of Kenia—Hostile demonstrations by the M’bu people—We
impress two guides—Passage through M’bu—Demonstrations
in force by the inhabitants—Farewell to M’bu—The
guides desert—Arrival in Zuka—Friendly reception by the
Wa’zuka—Passage through Zuka—Muimbe—Igani—Moravi—Arrival
at Zura—Welcome by Dirito, the chief of Zura 65
CHAPTER V.
_ZURA TO M’THARA, AND A VISIT TO EMBE._
The Somalis suffer a reverse in Embe—We reach Munithu—Karanjui—El
Hakim’s disagreement with the Tomori people—Arrival
at M’thara—N’Dominuki—Arrival of the Somalis—A
war “shauri”—We combine to punish the Wa’embe, but
are defeated—Death of Jamah Mahomet—Murder of N’Dominuki’s
nephew by Ismail—Return to camp 83
CHAPTER VI.
_OUR MOVEMENTS IN M’THARA AND MUNITHU._
Attempt of the Wa’M’thara to loot our camp—“Shauri” with
Ismail—The Somalis accuse N’Dominuki of treachery—He
vindicates himself—That wicked little boy!—Explanation of
the Embe reverse—Somalis lose heart—Attacked by ants—El
Hakim’s visit to Munithu—Robbery of his goods by the
Wa’Gnainu—I join him—We endeavour to recover the stolen
property from the Wa’Gnainu—The result 105
CHAPTER VII.
_RETURN TO M’THARA._
An ivory “shauri”—Death of Sadi ben Heri and his companions—Purchasing
ivory—El Hakim and I return to M’thara—A night
in the open—George ill—The Wa’M’thara at their old tricks—Return
of the Somalis from Chanjai—They refuse to return to
Embe—I interview an elephant 123
CHAPTER VIII.
_THE START FOR THE WASO NYIRO._
Some of El Hakim’s experiences with elephants—I am made a
blood-brother of Koromo’s—Departure from M’thara—A toilsome
march—A buffalo-hunt—The buffalo camp—Account of
Dr. Kolb’s death—An unsuccessful lion-hunt—Apprehension
and punishment of a deserter 141
CHAPTER IX.
_JOURNEY DOWN THE WASO NYIRO._
Arrival at the Waso Nyiro—The “Green Camp”—The “cinder
heap”—The camp on fire—Scarcity of game—Hunting a
rhino on mule-back 159
CHAPTER X.
_RETURN TO THE “GREEN CAMP.”_
The “Swamp Camp”—Beautiful climate of the Waso Nyiro—Failure
to obtain salt at N’gomba—Beset by midges—No
signs of the Rendili—Nor of the Wandorobbo—We decide
to retrace our steps—An object-lesson in rhinoceros-shooting—The
“Green Camp” once more 174
CHAPTER XI.
_DOWN THE WASO NYIRO ONCE MORE._
We send to M’thara for guides—Sport at the “Green Camp”—Non-return
of the men sent to M’thara—Our anxiety—Their
safe return with guides—We continue our march down the
river—Desertion of the guides—We push on—Bad country—No
game—We meet some of the Somali’s men—News of the
Rendili—Loss of our camels—In sight of the “promised
land” 190
CHAPTER XII.
_IN THE RENDILI ENCAMPMENT._
Narrow escape from a python—Arrival among the Burkeneji and
Rendili—No ivory—Buying fat-tailed sheep instead—Massacre
of the Somalis porters by the Wa’embe—Consternation of
Ismail Robli—His letter to Nairobi 206
CHAPTER XIII.
_THE RENDILI AND BURKENEJI._
The Burkeneji—Their quarrelsome disposition—The incident of the
spear—The Rendili—Their appearance—Clothing—Ornaments—Weapons—
Household utensils—Morals and manners 221
CHAPTER XIV.
_THE SEARCH FOR LORIAN._
Exchanging presents with the Rendili—El Hakim bitten by a
scorpion—We start for Lorian without guides—Zebra—Desolate
character of the country—Difficulties with rhinoceros—Unwillingness
of our men to proceed—We reach the limit of
Mr. Chanler’s journey—No signs of Lorian 244
CHAPTER XV.
_RETURN FROM THE LORIAN JOURNEY._
An interrupted night’s rest—Photography under difficulties—We
go further down stream—Still no signs of Lorian—Sad end
of “Spot” the puppy—Our men refuse to go further—Preparations
for the return journey—Reasons for our failure to reach
Lorian—Return to our Rendili camp—Somalis think of going
north to Marsabit—Ismail asks me to accompany him—I
decline—The scare in Ismail’s camp—Departure for M’thara 259
CHAPTER XVI.
_RETURN TO M’THARA._
Departure from the Rendili settlement—Ismail’s porters desert—The
affray between Barri and the Somalis—Ismail wounded—A
giraffe hunt—Ismail’s vacillation—Another giraffe hunt—Journey
up the Waso Nyiro—Hippopotamus-shooting 275
CHAPTER XVII.
_ARRIVAL AT M’THARA._
In sight of Kenia once more—El Hakim and the lion—The “Green
Camp” again—The baby water-buck—El Hakim shoots an
elephant—The buried buffalo horns destroyed by hyænas—Bad
news from M’thara—Plot to attack and massacre us
hatched by Bei-Munithu—N’Dominuki’s fidelity—Baked
elephant’s foot—Rain—Arrival at our old camp at M’thara 290
CHAPTER XVIII.
_AN ELEPHANT HUNT AND AN ATTACK ON MUNITHU._
We shoot an elephant—Gordon Cumming on elephants—We send
to Munithu to buy food—Song of Kinyala—Baked elephant’s
foot again a failure—The true recipe—Rain—More rain—The
man with the mutilated nose—The sheep die from exposure—Chiggers—The
El’Konono—Bei-Munithu’s insolent message—A
message from the Wa’Chanjei—George and I march to
attack Munithu 303
CHAPTER XIX.
_FIGHT AT MUNITHU AND DEPARTURE FROM M’THARA._
Attack on Bei-Munithu’s village—Poisoned arrows—The burning
of the village—The return march—Determined pursuit of the
A’kikuyu—Karanjui—George’s fall—Return to the M’thara
camp—Interview with Bei-Munithu—His remorse—Departure
from M’thara—Rain—Hyænas—A lioness—Bad country—Whistling
trees—A lion—Increasing altitude—Zebra 319
CHAPTER XX.
_ROUND NORTH AND WEST KENIA TO THE TANA._
The primeval forests of North Kenia—Difficult country—Ravines—Ngare
Moosoor—Rain—Ngare Nanuki—Cedar forests—Open
country—No game—Upper waters of the Waso Nyiro—Death
of “Sherlock Holmes”—Witchcraft—Zebra—Rhinoceros—Sheep
dying off—More rain—The A’kikuyu once more—Attempt
of the A’kikuyu to steal sheep—Difficult marches—Rain
again—Maranga at last—The Tana impassable 335
CHAPTER XXI.
_CONCLUSION. FROM THE RIVER TANA TO NAIROBI._
Arrival at the Tana river—A visit to M’biri—Crossing the
Tana—Smallpox—Kati drowned—I give Ramathani a fright—Peculiar
method of transporting goods across the river practised by the
Maranga—The safari across—M’biri—Disposal of the sheep—We
resume the march—The Maragua once more—The Thika-Thika—The
swamps—Kriger’s Farm—Nairobi 351
INDEX 365
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE AUTHOR _Frontispiece_
THE ATHI RIVER NEAR DOENYO SABUK }
} 36
CROSSING AN AFFLUENT OF THE SAGANA }
THE CAMP AT MARANGA }
} 52
BUYING FOOD AT MARANGA }
GROUP OF A’KIKUYU 60
GROUP OF A’KIKUYU WOMEN 76
ELDERS OF M’THARA }
} 114
DIRITO AND VISELI AND TWO FOLLOWERS }
THE AUTHOR MAKING BLOOD-BROTHERHOOD WITH KARAMA }
} 148
THE “GREEN CAMP” }
VIEW ON THE WASO NYIRO NEAR “SWAMP CAMP” }
} 178
CUTTING UP A RHINOCEROS FOR FOOD }
PALMS ON THE WASO NYIRO 204
HORNS OF BRINDLED GNU, ETC. 220
MASAI ELMORAN IN WAR ARRAY 242
HORNS OF BUFFALO, ETC. 258
PORTRAIT OF MR. G. H. WEST }
} 294
RHINOCEROS SHOT BY GEORGE }
ORNAMENTS WORN BY A’KIKUYU WOMEN 316
A’KIKUYU WEAPONS 328
MOUNT KENIA FROM THE NORTH }
MOUNT KENIA FROM THE SOUTH-WEST } 336
MAP
PART OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA _To fold out at end of book_
ERRATA IN MAP
_For_ NGARI NAMUKI _read_ NGARE NANUKI.
” GUASO NAROK ” WASO NAROK.
ERRATA
Page 135, line 16, _for_ “M’gomba” _read_ “N’gombe.”
” 135, lines 17, 18, _for_ “due north of Mathara” _read_
“north of the Jombeni Mountains.”
” 136, line 19, _for_ “Guaso” _read_ “Waso.”
” 136, line 23, _for_ “Gwarguess” _read_ “Wargasse.”
” 147, 148, _for_ “Koromo” _read_ “Karama.”
” 178, lines 9, 10, 13, _for_ “N’gomba” _read_ “N’gombe.”
” 183, line 2, _for_ “sassi” _read_ “sassa.”
” 213, lines 30, 32, _for_ “Van Hohnel” _read_ “von Hohnel.”
” 264, line 30, _for_ “M’Nyanwezi” _read_ “M’Nyamwezi.”
THROUGH KIKUYU TO GALLA-LAND
INTRODUCTION.
My friend, George Henry West, and myself left Cairo in the latter
part of the year 1899, with the intention of proceeding to Uganda
_viâ_ Zanzibar and Mombasa. George was an engineer in the service of
the Irrigation Department of the Egyptian Government, and had gained
a large and varied experience on the new works on the Barrage below
Cairo, then being concluded, and in building, running, and repairing
both locomotives and launches. As a profession I had followed the
sea for three years, leaving it in 1896 in order to join the British
South African Police, then engaged in subduing the native rebellion in
Mashonaland. At the conclusion of hostilities I wandered over South
Africa, and finally found my way to Egypt, where I met George West. A
year later, accompanied by George, I was on my way southwards again,
_en route_ for British East Africa.
When George and I left Cairo, our idea was to go up-country as far as
the Lake Victoria Nyanza, as we considered it extremely probable that
there would be something for us to do in the engineering line, either
in building launches or in the construction of small harbour works.
We reached Mombasa in due course, and from there proceeded to Nairobi
by the railway then in course of construction to Uganda. Nairobi
is 327 miles from the coast, and is an important centre, being the
headquarters of both the Civil Administration of the Protectorate and
the Uganda railway. On our arrival, George received an offer, which he
accepted, to go up to the lake with a steamer, which was then on the
way out from England in sections, and on his arrival at the lake with
it to rebuild it. I remained in Nairobi.
In course of time I met the personage referred to in these pages as “El
Hakim,”[1] whom I had known previously by repute. He was said to be one
of the most daring and resolute, and at the same time one of the most
unassuming Englishmen in the Protectorate; a dead shot, and a charming
companion. He had been shooting in Somaliland and the neighbourhood of
Lake Rudolph for the previous four years, and many were the stories
told of his prowess among elephant and other big game.
It was with sincere pleasure, therefore, that I found I was able to
do him sundry small services, and we soon became fast friends. In
appearance he was nothing out of the common. He was by no means a big
man—rather the reverse, in fact—and it was only on closer acquaintance
that his striking personality impressed one.
He had dark hair and eyes, and an aquiline nose. He was a man of many
and varied attainments. Primarily a member of the medical profession,
his opinions on most other subjects were listened to with respect. A
very precise speaker, he had a clear and impartial manner of reviewing
anything under discussion which never failed to impress his hearers.
He was a leader one would have willingly followed to the end of the
earth. When, therefore, he proposed that I should accompany him on an
ivory trading expedition to Galla-land, that vast stretch of country
lying between Mount Kenia on the south and Southern Somaliland on the
north, which is nominally under the sphere of influence of the British
East African Protectorate, I jumped at the chance; and it was so
arranged. He had been over much of the ground we intended covering, and
knew the country, so that it promised to be a most interesting trip.
About this time I heard from George that he was coming down country, as
the steamer parts had not all arrived from England, and consequently
it would probably be months before it would be ready for building. He
had also had a bad attack of malarial fever in the unhealthy district
immediately surrounding the lake at Ugowe Bay, and altogether he was
not very fit. I suggested to El Hakim that George should join us in our
proposed expedition, to which he readily agreed; so I wrote to George
to that effect.
To render the prospect still more inviting, there existed a certain
element of mystery with regard to the river Waso Nyiro (pronounced
Wasso Nēro). It has always been supposed to rise in the Aberdare Range,
but, as I shall show, I have very good reason to believe that it rises
in the western slopes of Kenia Mountain itself. The Waso Nyiro does
not empty itself into the sea, but ends in a swamp called Lorian, the
position of which was supposed to have been fixed by an exploring party
in 1893. But, as I shall also show in the course of this narrative, the
position of Lorian varies.
The upper reaches of the Waso Nyiro were visited by the explorer Joseph
Thompson, F.R.G.S., on his way to Lake Baringo during his memorable
journey through Masai Land in 1885.
In 1887-1888 a Hungarian nobleman, Count Samuel Teleki von Czeck,
accompanied by Lieutenant Ludwig von Hohnel, of the Imperial Austrian
Navy, undertook the stupendous journey which resulted in the discovery
of Lakes Rudolph and Stephanie. Count Teleki, on his journey north,
crossed the Waso Nyiro at a point in North-West Kenia near its source,
while Lieutenant von Hohnel went two or three days’ march still further
down-stream.
A few years later, in 1892-1893, Professor J. W. Gregory, D.Sc., of
the Natural History Museum, South Kensington, made, single-handed, a
remarkable journey to Lake Baringo and Mount Kenia, and in the teeth
of almost insuperable difficulties, ascended the western face of that
mountain and climbed the peak.
At the same time, in the latter part of 1892, an American, Mr. William
Astor Chanler, accompanied by Count Teleki’s companion and chronicler,
Lieutenant von Hohnel, started from a point in Formosa Bay on the East
Coast, and made his way along the course of Tana River to North-East
Kenia, intending later to go on to Lake Rudolph, and thence northward.
He and his companion, deceived by the reports of the natives, which led
them to believe that the Waso Nyiro emptied itself into an extensive
lake, and fired by the idea of the possible discovery of another
great African lake, made their way down to the Waso Nyiro, and after
a fearful march, enduring the greatest hardships, eventually reached
Lorian. To their great disappointment, it proved to be nothing more
than a swamp, and they turned back without examining it. A few weeks
later, Lieutenant von Hohnel, having been seriously injured by a
rhinoceros, was sent down to the coast, his life being despaired
of. Shortly afterwards Mr. Chanler’s men deserted him in a body, and
returned to the coast also, thus bringing his journey to a premature
conclusion; a much-to-be-regretted ending to a well-planned and
well-equipped expedition.
As Mr. Chanler was returning to the coast he met Mr. A. H. Neumann
coming up. Mr. Neumann spent the greater part of 1893 in shooting
elephants in the Loroghi Mountains, after going north to Lake Rudolph.
He also crossed the Waso Nyiro at a point north-east of Mount Kenia.
During the time Mr. Neumann was shooting in the Loroghi Mountains he
was obliged to make periodical visits to M’thara, in North-East Kenia,
in order to buy food from the natives, and on one such excursion he met
Dr. Kolb, a German scientist, who was exploring North Kenia.
Dr. Kolb ascended Mount Kenia from the north, and then returned to
Europe. An interesting account of his ascent of the mountain is
published in Dr. Petermann’s “Mitteilungen” (42 Band, 1896). Dr. Kolb
then returned to Kenia in order to continue his observations, but he
was unfortunately killed by a rhinoceros a couple of marches north of
M’thara.
Lorian, therefore, with the exception of Mr. Chanler’s hurried visit,
was practically unexplored. At the commencement of our trip, El Hakim
proposed that, if an opportunity occurred of visiting Lorian, we
should take advantage of it, and endeavour to supplement Mr. Chanler’s
information. As will be seen, an opportunity did present itself, with
what result a perusal of this account of our expedition will disclose.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Anglice_, “The Doctor.”
CHAPTER I.
_PREPARATIONS AND START._
Engaging porters—Characteristics of Swahili, Wa’Nyamwezi, and Wa’Kamba
porters—Selecting trade goods—Provisions—Arms and ammunition—The
Munipara—Sketch of some principal porters—Personal servants—List of
trade goods taken—Distributing the loads—Refusal of the Government
to register our porters—Reported hostility of the natives—Finley and
Gibbons’ disaster—Start of the Somali safaris—We move to Kriger’s
Farm—I fall into a game-pit—Camp near Kriger’s Farm—Visitors—The start.
One of the most important items in the organization of a “safari”
(caravan) is the judicious selection of the men. Choosing ours was a
task that gave us much trouble and vexation of spirit. El Hakim said
that for all-round usefulness the Wa’kamba were hard to beat, and
thought that we had better form the bulk of the safari from them, and
stiffen it with a backbone of Swahilis and Wa’Nyamwezi, as, though the
Wa’kamba were very good men when well handled, in the unlikely event of
hostilities with the natives it would be advisable to strengthen them
with an addition from the lustier tribes. To that end we proposed to
engage a dozen Swahili and half that number of Wa’Nyamwezi. Porters at
that time were very scarce; but having secured one or two good men as a
nucleus, we sent them into the bazaar at Nairobi to bring us any other
men they could find who wanted employment.
The Swahilis are natives of Zanzibar and the adjacent coasts. They are
of mixed—very mixed—descent, being mainly the offspring of various
native slaves and their Arab masters. They were originally a race of
slaves, but since the abolition of slavery they have become more and
more independent, and they now consider themselves a very superior race
indeed. They call themselves “Wangwana” (freemen), and allude to all
other natives as “Washenzi” (savages). They are incorrigibly conceited,
and at times very vicious, lazy, disobedient, and insolent. But once
you have, by a judicious display of firmness, gained their respect,
they, with of course some exceptions, prove to be a hardy, cheerful,
and intelligent people, capable of enduring great hardships without a
too ostentatious display of ill-feeling, and will even go so far as to
make bad puns in the vernacular upon their empty stomachs, the latter
an occurrence not at all infrequent in safari work away from the main
roads.
The Wa’kamba, on the whole, are a very cheerful tribe, and though
of small physique, possess wonderful powers of endurance, the women
equally with the men. We calculated that some of our men, in addition
to their 60-lb. load, carried another 30 lbs. weight in personal
effects, rifle, and ammunition; so that altogether they carried 90 lbs.
dead weight during one or sometimes two marches a day for weeks at a
stretch, often on insufficient food, and sometimes on no food at all.
The Wa’Nyamwezi are, in my opinion, really more reliable than either
the Swahili or Wa’kamba. They come from U’Nyamwezi, the country south
and east of Lake Victoria Nyanza. We had six of them with us, and we
always found them steady and willing, good porters, and less trouble
than any other men in the safari. They were very clannish, keeping
very much to themselves, but were quiet and orderly, and seldom
complained; and if at any time they imagined they had some cause for
complaint, they formed a deputation and quietly stated their case, and
on receiving a reply as quietly returned to their fire—very different
from the noisy, argumentative Swahili. They appear to me to possess
the virtues of both the Swahilis and Wa’kamba without their vices.
The Wa’kamba’s great weakness when on the march was a _penchant_ for
stealing from the native villages whatever they could lay their hands
on, being encouraged thereto by the brave and noble Swahilis, who,
while not wishing to risk our displeasure by openly doing likewise,
urged on the simple Wa’kamba, afterwards appropriating the lion’s
share of the spoil: that is, if we did not hear of the occurrence and
confiscate the spoil ourselves.
We had pitched our tent just outside the town of Nairobi, and
proceeded to get together our loads of camp equipment, trade goods,
and provisions: no easy task on an expedition such as ours, where the
number of carriers was to be strictly limited.
In the first place, we required cloth, brass wire, iron wire, and
various beads, in sufficient quantities to buy food for the safari
for at least six months. Provisions were also a troublesome item, as,
although we expected to live a great deal upon native food, we required
such things as tea, coffee, sugar, jam, condiments, and also medicines.
The question was not what to take, but what _not_ to take. However,
after a great amount of discussion, lasting over several days, we
settled the food question more or less satisfactorily.
During this time our recruiting officers were bringing into camp
numbers of men who, they said, wanted to take service with us as
porters. Judging from the specimens submitted for our approval, they
seemed to have raked out the halt, the lame, and the blind. After much
trouble we selected those whom we thought likely to be suitable, and
gave them an advance of a few rupees as a retaining fee, with which,
after the manner of their kind, they immediately repaired to the bazaar
for a last long orgie.
There was also the important question of arms and ammunition to be
considered, as, although we did not expect any fighting, it would
have been foolish in the extreme to have entered such districts as we
intended visiting without adequate means of self-defence. We concluded
the twenty-five Snider rifles used by El Hakim on a previous trip
would suffice. Unfortunately, we could get very little ammunition for
them, as at that time Snider ammunition was very scarce in Nairobi,
one reason being that it had been bought very largely by a big Somali
caravan under Jamah Mahomet and Ismail Robli, which set out just before
us, bound for the same districts.
We, however, eventually procured five or six hundred rounds: a
ridiculously inadequate amount considering the distance we were to
travel and the time we expected to be away.
With regard to our armament, El Hakim possessed by far the best
battery. His weapons consisted of an 8-bore Paradox, a ·577 Express,
and a single-barrelled ·450 Express, all by Holland and Holland. The
8-bore we never used, as the ·577 Express did all that was required
perfectly satisfactorily. The 8-bore would have been a magnificent
weapon for camp defence when loaded with slugs, but fortunately our
camp was never directly attacked, and consequently the necessity for
using it never arose. The ·557 was the best all-round weapon for big
game such as elephant, rhinoceros, and buffalo, and never failed to
do its work cleanly and perfectly. Its only disadvantage was that it
burnt black powder, and consequently I should be inclined, if I ever
made another expedition, to give the preference to one of the new ·450
or ·500 Expresses burning smokeless powder, though, as I have not
handled one of the latter, I cannot speak with certainty. El Hakim’s
·450 Express was really a wonderful weapon, though open to the same
objection as the ·557—that of burning black powder. It was certainly
one of the best all-round weapons I ever saw for bringing down
soft-skinned game. It was a single-barrelled, top-lever, hammer-gun,
with flat top rib. The sights were set very low down on the rib, to my
mind a great advantage, as it seems to me to minimize the chances of
accidental canting. Its penetrative power, with hardened lead bullets,
was surprising. I have seen it drop a rhinoceros with a bullet through
the brain, and yet the same projectile would kill small antelope like
Grant’s or Waller’s gazelles without mangling them or going right
through and tearing a great hole in its egress, thereby spoiling the
skin, which is the great cause of complaint against the ·303 when
expanding bullets are used.
I myself carried a ·303 built by Rigby, a really magnificent weapon. I
took with me a quantity of every make of ·303 expanding bullets, from
copper-tubed to Jeffry’s splits. After repeated trials I found that the
Dum-Dum gave the most satisfactory results, “since when I have used no
other.”
I also carried a supply of ·303 solid bullets, both for elephants and
for possible defensive operations. For rhinoceros, buffalo, or giraffe,
I carried an ordinary Martini-Henry military rifle, which answered the
purpose admirably. A 20-bore shot-gun, which proved useful in securing
guinea-fowl, etc., for the pot, completed my battery. George carried a
·303 military rifle and a Martini-Henry carbine.
It was essential that we should have a good “Munipara” (head-man), and
the individual we engaged to fill that important position was highly
recommended to us as a man of energy and resource. His name was Jumbi
ben Aloukeri. Jumbi was of medium height, with an honest, good-natured
face. He possessed an unlimited capacity for work, but we discovered,
too late, that he possessed no real control over the men, which fact
afterwards caused us endless trouble and annoyance. He was too easy
with them, and made the great mistake—for a head-man—of himself doing
anything we wanted, instead of compelling his subordinates to do it,
with the result that he was often openly defied, necessitating vigorous
intervention on our part to uphold his authority. We usually alluded to
him as “the Nobleman,” that being the literal translation of his name.
Next on the list of our Swahili porters was Sadi ben Heri, who had been
up to North Kenia before with the late Dr. Kolb, who was killed by a
rhinoceros a couple of marches north of M’thara, Sadi was a short,
stoutly built, pugnacious little man, with a great deal to say upon
most things, especially those which did not concern him. He was a good
worker, but never seemed happy unless he was grumbling; and as he had
a certain amount of influence among the men, they would grumble with
him, to their great mutual satisfaction but ultimate disadvantage. His
pugnacious disposition and lax morals soon got him into trouble, and
he, together with some of his especial cronies, was killed by natives,
as will be related in its proper sequence.
Hamisi ben Abdullah was a man of no marked peculiarities, except a
disposition to back up Sadi in any mischief. The same description
applies to Abdullah ben Asmani and Asmani ben Selim.
Coja ben Sowah was a short, thick-set man, so short as to be almost a
dwarf. He was one of the most cheery and willing of our men, so much so
that it was quite a pleasure to order him to do anything—a pleasure, I
fear, we appreciated more than he did. On receiving an order he would
_run_ to execute it with a cheery “Ay wallah, bwana” (“Please God,
master”), that did one good to hear.
Resarse ben Shokar was our “Kiongozi,” _i.e._ the leading porter, who
sets the step on the march and carries the flag of the safari. He,
also, always ran on receiving an order—ran out of sight, in fact; then,
when beyond our ken, compelled a weaker man than himself to do what
was wanted. I could never cure him of the habit of sleeping on sentry
duty, though many a time I have chased him with a stirrup-strap, or a
camp-stool, or anything handy when, while making surprise inspections
of the sentries, I had found him fast asleep. He was valuable, however,
in that he was the wit of the safari. He was a perfect gas-bag, and
often during and after a long and probably waterless march we blessed
him for causing the men to laugh by some harmless waggish remark at our
expense.
Sulieman was a big, hulking, sulky brute, who gave us a great deal of
trouble, and finally deserted near Lorian, forgetting to return his
rifle, and also absent-mindedly cutting open my bag and abstracting a
few small but necessary articles. Docere ben Ali, his chum, was also of
a slow and sullen disposition, though he was careful not to exhibit it
to us. When anything disturbed him he went forthwith and took it out of
the unfortunate Wa’kamba.
Of the Wa’kamba I do not remember the names except of two or three
who particularly impressed themselves on my memory. The head M’kamba
was known as Malwa. He was a cheerful, stupid idiot who worked like
a horse, though he never seemed to get any “for’arder.” Another
M’kamba, named Macow, afterwards succeeded him in the headmanship of
the Wa’kamba when Malwa was deposed for some offence. We nicknamed
Macow “Sherlock Holmes,” as he seemed to spend most of his leisure
hours prowling round the camp, peering round corners with the true
melodrama-detective-Hawkshaw expression in his deep-set, thickly browed
eyes. He would often creep silently and mysteriously to our tent, and
in a subdued whisper communicate some trifling incident which had
occurred on the march; then, without waiting for a reply, steal as
silently and mysteriously away.
I must not conclude this chapter without some mention of our personal
servants. First and foremost was Ramathani, our head cook and factotum.
Ramathani had already been some three months in my service as cook
and personal servant, and a most capable man I had found him. My
acquaintance with him began one morning when I had sent my cook, before
breakfast, to the _sokoni_ (native bazaar) to buy bread, vegetables,
etc. As he did not return I went outside to the cook-house in some
anxiety as to whether I should get any breakfast. Several native
servants were there, and they informed me my cook was still in the
bazaar, very drunk, and most likely would not be back till noon. Of
course, I was angry, and proceeded to show it, when a soothing voice,
speaking in very fair English, fell upon my ear. Turning sharply, I
was confronted by a stranger, a good-looking native, neatly dressed in
khaki.
“Shall I cook breakfast for master?” he inquired softly.
“Are you able?” said I.
“Yes, master.”
“Then do so,” I said; and went back to my quarters and waited with as
much patience as I could command under the circumstances.
In a quarter of an hour or so Ramathani—for it was indeed he—brought
in a temptingly well-cooked breakfast, such as I was almost a stranger
to, and at the same time hinted that he had permanently attached me as
his employer. My own cook turned up an hour or so later, very drunk
and very abusive, and he was incontinently fired out, Ramathani being
established in his stead.
Ramathani had two boys as assistants, Juma and Bilali. Juma was an
M’kamba. His upper teeth were filed to sharp points, forming most
useful weapons of offence, as we afterwards had occasion to notice.
Bilali was an M’Kikuyu, and a very willing boy. He was always very
nervous when in our presence, and used to tremble excessively when
laying the table for meals. When gently reproved for putting dirty
knives or cups on the table, he would grow quite ludicrous in his
hurried efforts to clean the articles mentioned, and would spit on them
and rub them with the hem of his dirty robe with a pathetic eagerness
to please that disarmed indignation and turned away wrath.
Having finally secured our men, it only remained to pack up and
distribute the loads of equipment, provisions, trade goods, etc. We did
not take such a large quantity of trade goods as we should have done in
the ordinary course, as El Hakim already had a large quantity in charge
of a chief in North Kenia. The following is a list, compiled from
memory, of what we took with us:—
UNGUO (CLOTH).
2 loads Merikani (American sheeting).
2 ” kisuto (red and blue check cloths).
2 ” blanketi (blankets, coloured).
1 load various, including—
gumti (a coarse white cloth).
laissoes (coloured cloths worn by women).
kekois (coloured cloth worn by men).
UZI WA MADINI (WIRE).
{ seninge (iron wire, No. 6).
2 or 3 loads of { masango (copper wire, No. 6).
{ masango n’eupe (brass wire, No. 6).
USHANGA (BEADS).
{ sem Sem (small red Masai beads).
2 or 3 loads of { sembaj (white Masai beads).
{ ukuta (large white opaque beads).
2 loads of mixed Venetian beads.
When all the loads were packed, they were placed in a line on the
ground; and falling the men in, we told off each to the load we thought
best suited to him. To the Swahilis, being good marching men and not
apt to straggle on the road, we apportioned our personal equipment,
tents, blankets, and table utensils. To the Wa’Nyamwezi we entrusted
the ammunition and provisions, and to the Wa’kamba we gave the loads of
wire, beads, cloth, etc. Having settled this to our own satisfaction,
we considered the matter settled, and ordered each man to take up his
load.
_Then_ the trouble began. First one man would come to us and ask if
his load might be changed for “that other one,” while the man to
whom “that other one” had been given would object with much excited
gesticulation and forcible language to any alteration being made, and
would come to us to decide the case. We would then arbitrate, though
nine times out of ten they did not abide by our decision. Other men’s
loads were bulky, or awkward, or heavy, or had something or other the
matter with them which they wanted rectified, so that in a short time
we had forty men with forty grievances clamouring for adjustment. We
simplified matters by referring every one to Jumbi, and having beaten
an inglorious retreat to our tents, solaced ourselves with something
eatable till everything was more or less amicably settled.
Nothing is more characteristic of the difference in the races than the
way in which they carry their loads. The Swahilis and Wa’Nyamwezi,
being used to the open main roads, carry their loads boldly on their
heads, or, in some cases, on their shoulders. The Wa’kamba, on the
other hand, in the narrow jungle paths of their own district find it
impossible, by reason of the overhanging vegetation, to carry a load
that way. They tie it up instead with a long broad strip of hide,
leaving a large loop, which is passed round the forehead from behind,
thus supporting the load, which rests in the small of the back. When
the strain on the neck becomes tiring they lean forward, which affords
considerable relief, by allowing the load to rest still more upon the
back. There were also six donkeys, the property of El Hakim, and these
were loaded up as well. A donkey will carry 120 lbs., a weight equal to
two men’s loads.
Finally, we had to register our porters at the Sub-Commissioner’s
office, as no safaris are allowed to proceed until that important
ceremony has been concluded, and the Government has pouched the
attendant fees. In our case, however, there appeared to be a certain
amount of difficulty. On delivering my application I was told to wait
for an answer, which I should receive in the course of the day. I
waited. In the afternoon a most important-looking official document was
brought to me by a Nubian orderly. In fear and trembling I opened the
envelope, and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when I found that the
Government had refused to register our porters, giving as their reason
that the districts we intended visiting were unsettled and, in their
opinion, unsafe, and therefore we should proceed only at our own risk.
We did not mind that, and we saved the registration fee anyhow. The
Government had already refused to register the Somali’s porters, and
they intimated, very rightly, that they could not make any difference
in our case.
Jamah Mahomet, who was in command of the Somali safari, started off
that day. He had with him Ismail Robli as second in command. A smaller
safari, under Noor Adam, had started a week previously. Both these
safaris intended visiting the same districts as ourselves. We were
fated to hear a great deal more of them before the end of our trip.
In the evening I received a private note from one of the Government
officers, informing me that we were likely to have a certain amount of
trouble in getting across the river Thika-Thika without fighting, as
the natives of that district were very turbulent, and advising us to go
another way. My informant cited the case of Messrs. Finlay and Gibbons
by way of a cheerful moral.
Finlay and Gibbons were two Englishmen who had been trading somewhere
to the north of the Tana River. They had forty men or so, and were
trading for ivory with the A’kikuyu, when they were suddenly and
treacherously attacked and driven into their “boma” (thorn stockade),
and there besieged by quite six thousand natives. From what I saw
later, I can quite believe that their numbers were by no means
exaggerated. During a night attack, Finlay was speared through the hand
and again in the back, the wound in the back, however, not proving
dangerous. They managed to get a message through to Nairobi, and some
Nubian troops were sent to their relief, which task they successfully
accomplished, though only with the greatest difficulty. It was not till
six weeks after he received the wound that Finlay was able to obtain
medical assistance, and by that time the tendons of his hand had united
wrongly, so that it was rendered permanently useless. This was a nice
enlivening story, calculated to encourage men who were setting out for
the same districts.
The following day I received a telegram from George to say that he
had arrived from Uganda at the Kedong Camp, at the foot of the Kikuyu
Escarpment, so I went up by rail to meet him. He looked very thin and
worn after his severe attack of fever. We returned to Nairobi the same
evening, and proceeded to our camp. El Hakim, who was away when we
arrived, turned up an hour later, and completed our party. He had been
to Kriger’s Farm about seven miles out. Messrs. Kriger and Knapp were
two American missionaries who had established a mission station that
distance out of Nairobi, towards Doenyo Sabuk, or Chianjaw, as it is
called by the Wa’kamba.
El Hakim, being anxious to get our men away from the pernicious
influence of the native bazaar, arranged that he would go on to
Kriger’s early on the following morning, and that George and I should
follow later in the day with the safari, and camp for the night near
Kriger’s place. Accordingly he started early in the forenoon on the
following day.
George and I proceeded to finish the packing and make final
arrangements—a much longer task than we anticipated. There were so
many things that must be done, which we found only at the last minute,
that at 3 p.m., as there was no prospect of getting away until an
hour or so later, I sent George on with the six loaded donkeys, about
thirty of El Hakim’s cattle, and a dozen men, telling him that I would
follow. George rode a mule (of which we had two), which El Hakim had
bought in Abyssinia two years before. They were splendid animals, and,
beyond an inconvenient habit, of which we never cured them, of shying
occasionally and then bolting, they had no bad points. They generally
managed to pick up a living and get fat in a country where a horse
would starve, and, taking them altogether, they answered admirably in
every way. I would not have exchanged them for half a dozen of the
best horses in the Protectorate. One mule was larger than the other,
and lighter in colour, and was consequently known as n’yumbu m’kubwa,
_i.e._ “the big mule.” It was used by George and myself as occasion
required. The other, a smaller, darker animal, was known as n’yumbu
m’dogo, _i.e._ “the little mule.” It was ridden exclusively by El Hakim.
After George’s departure I hurried the remaining men as much as
possible, but it was already dusk when I finally started on my
seven-mile tramp. Some of the men had to be hunted out of the bazaar,
where they had lingered, with their loved ones, in a last long farewell.
There is no twilight in those latitudes (within two degrees of the
equator), so that very soon after our start we were tramping along in
the black darkness. I had no knowledge of the road; only a rough idea
of the general direction. I steered by the aid of a pocket-compass
and a box of matches. After the first hour I noticed that the men
commenced to stagger and lag behind with their lately unaccustomed
burdens, and I had to be continually on the alert to prevent
desertions. I numbered them at intervals, to make sure that none of
them had given me the slip, but an hour and a half after starting I
missed three men with their loads, in spite of all my precautions.
I shouted back into the darkness, and the men accompanying me did
the same, and, after a slight interval we were relieved to hear an
answering shout from the missing men. After waiting a few moments, we
shouted again, and were amazed to find that the answering shout was
much fainter than before. We continued shouting, but the answers grew
gradually fainter and more faint till they died away altogether. I
could not understand it at first, but the solution gradually dawned
upon me. We were on a large plain, and a few hundred yards to the left
of us was a huge belt of forest, which echoed our shouts to such an
extent that the men who were looking for us were deceived as to our
real position, and in their search were following a path at right
angles to our own. I could not light a fire to guide them, as the grass
was very long and dry, and I should probably have started a bush fire,
the consequences of which would have been terrible. I therefore fired
a gun, and was answered by another shot, seemingly far away over the
plain to the right. Telling the men to sit down and rest themselves on
the path, I ordered Jumbi to follow me, and, after carefully taking
my bearings by compass, started to walk quickly across the plain to
intercept them.
It was by no means a pleasant experience, trotting across those plains
in the pitchy blackness, with the grass up to my waist, and huge
boulders scattered about ready and willing to trip me up. I got very
heated and quite unreasonably angry, and expressed my feelings to
Jumbi very freely. I was in the midst of a violent diatribe against
all natives generally, and Swahili porters in particular, which I
must admit he bore with commendable patience, when the earth gave way
beneath me, and I was precipitated down some apparently frightful
abyss, landing in a heap at the bottom, with all the breath knocked
out of my body. I laid there for a little while, and endeavoured to
collect my scattered faculties. Soon I stood up, and struck a match,
and discovered that I had fallen into an old game-pit, about 8 feet
deep. It was shaped like a cone, with a small opening at the top,
similar to the old-fashioned _oubliette_. I looked at the floor, and
shuddered when I realized what a narrow squeak I might have had; for on
the centre of the floor were the mouldering remains of a pointed stake,
which had been originally fixed upright in the earth floor on the place
where I had fallen.
“Is Bwana (master) hurt?” said the voice of Jumbi from somewhere in the
black darkness above.
I replied that I was not hurt, but that I could not get out
without assistance; whereupon Jumbi lowered his rifle, and, to the
accompaniment of a vast amount of scrambling and kicking, hauled me
bodily out.
We were by this time very near to the men for whom we were searching,
as we could hear their voices raised in argument about the path. We
stopped and called to them, and presently they joined us, and we all
set off together to join my main party. We reached it without further
mishap, and resumed our interrupted march.
It was very dark indeed. I could not see my hand when I held it a
couple of feet from my face. One of the men happening to remark that
he had been over the path some years before, I immediately placed
him in the van as guide, threatening him with all sorts of pains and
penalties if he did not land us at our destination some time before
midnight.
I was particularly anxious to rejoin George, as I had the tents,
blankets, and food, and he would have a very uninteresting time without
me. We marched, therefore, with renewed vigour, as our impromptu guide
stated that he thought one more hour’s march would do the business.
It didn’t, though. For two solid hours we groped blindly through
belts of forest, across open spaces, and up and down wooded ravines,
until somewhere about eleven p.m., when we reached a very large and
terribly steep ravine, thickly clothed with trees, creepers, and dense
undergrowth. We could hear the rushing noise of a considerable volume
of water at the bottom, and in the darkness it sounded very, very far
down.
I halted at the top to consider whether to go on or not, but the
thought of George waiting patiently for my appearance with supper
and blankets made me so uncomfortable that I decided to push on if
it took me all night. We thereupon commenced the difficult descent,
but halfway down my doubts as to the advisability of the proceeding
were completely set at rest by one of the men falling down in some
kind of a fit from over-fatigue. The others were little better, so I
reluctantly decided to wait for daylight before proceeding further.
I tried to find something to eat among the multifarious loads, and
fortunately discovered a piece of dry bread that had been thrown in
with the cooking utensils at the last moment. I greedily devoured it,
and, wrapping myself in my blankets, endeavoured to sleep as well as
I was able on a slope of forty-five degrees. A thought concerning
George struck me just before I dropped off to sleep, which comforted
me greatly. “George knows enough to go in when it rains,” I thought.
“He will leave the men with the cattle, and go over to Kriger’s place
and have a hot supper and a soft bed, and all kinds of good things like
that,” and I drew my blankets more closely round me and shivered, and
felt quite annoyed with him when I thought of it.
At daylight we were up and off again, and, descending the ravine,
crossed the river at the bottom, and continued the march. On the way I
shot a guinea-fowl, called by the Swahilis “kanga,” and after an hour
and a half of quick walking I came up with George.
He had passed a miserable night, without food, blankets, or fire,
and, to make matters worse, it had drizzled all night, while he sat
on a stone and kept watch and ward over the cattle. The men who had
accompanied him were so tired that they had refused to build a boma to
keep the cattle in. He seemed very glad to see me. We at once got the
tent put up, a fire made, and the boma built, and soon made things much
more comfortable. In fact, we got quite gay and festive on the bread
and marmalade, washed down with tea, which formed our breakfast.
El Hakim was at Kriger’s place, about a mile distant. We had to
wait two or three days till he was ready to start, as he had a lot
of private business to transact. We left all the cattle except nine
behind, under Kriger’s charge; we sent the nine back subsequently, as
we found they were more trouble than they were worth.
In the evening I went out to shoot guinea-fowl; at least, I intended to
shoot guinea-fowl, but unfortunately I saw none. I lost myself in the
darkness, and could not find my way back to camp. After wandering about
for some time, I at last spied the flare of the camp fires, halfway up
a slope a mile away, opposite to that on which I stood. I made towards
them, entirely forgetting the small river that flowed at the foot of
the slope. It was most unpleasantly recalled to my memory as I suddenly
stepped off the bank and plunged, with a splash, waist deep into the
icy water. Ugh!
I scrambled up the opposite bank, and reached the camp safely, though
feeling very sorry for myself. El Hakim and George thought it a good
joke. I thought they had a very low sense of humour.
On the following morning George and I sallied forth on sport intent.
George carried the shot-gun, and I the ·303. We saw no birds; but
after an arduous stalk, creeping on all fours through long, wet grass,
I secured a congoni. Congoni is the local name for the hartebeeste
(_Bubalis Cokei_). The meat was excellent, and much appreciated. El
Hakim joined us in the afternoon, accompanied by Mr. Kriger and Mr. and
Mrs. Knapp, who wished to inspect our camp. We did the honours with the
greatest zest, knowing it would be the last time for many months that
we should see any of our own race.
The day afterwards El Hakim and I rode into Nairobi, accompanied by
some of the men, and brought back twelve days’ rations of m’chele
(rice) for our safari, as we intended starting the following day.
Kriger and Knapp decided to come with us on a little pleasure trip as
far as Doenyo Sabuk, a bold, rounded prominence, rising some 800 feet
above the level of the plain, the summit being over 6000 feet above
sea-level, lying about four days’ journey to the north.