_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 Somalis’ men—News of the
Rendili—Loss of our camels—In sight of the “promised land.”
Early on the morning following our arrival at the “Green Camp” we
despatched three men to M’thara with a message to N’Dominuki, asking
him to send us a couple of Wandorobbo guides from Embe, as we wished
to go across country to Lololokwe, and, if we deemed it necessary,
further north to Mount Nyiro, at the south end of Lake Rudolph. The
rest of the men went back to the two dead rhinoceros to obtain a supply
of meat. George went out during the day and shot three grantei. In the
afternoon El Hakim also went out shooting. He took the ·450 Express,
as he intended shooting grantei only. He secured four. On his way back
to camp he was annoyed by a rhinoceros which had the temerity to stalk
him, so waiting for his pursuer he neatly planted a bullet in the
creature’s brain, at a distance of about ten yards. I have read that
the skull of a rhinoceros is invulnerable, especially from the front,
but on examining El Hakim’s beast, I noted that it had been shot from
the front, the bullet entering the temple and penetrating the skull at
precisely the proper angle, reaching the brain. There was no blood, the
bullet-hole being so clean-cut that the skin closed over the wound in
such a manner as to make it difficult to discover where it _had_ been
hit. It was as neat and workman-like a job as I have ever seen.
We stayed at the “Green Camp” for some days, occasionally shooting game
to supply the larder, cleaning our weapons, mending our clothes and
boots, and otherwise occupying our time to good purpose. A zebra which
I shot supplied us with hide, and we repaired our travel-torn boots by
the simple process of stitching a piece of raw hide over them with a
surgical needle and thread, and then hanging the boots out in the air.
The hide shrank on as it dried, and formed a fairly well-fitting though
clumsy covering; but it was only a temporary arrangement at best, and
required constant renewing, as over rough, stony ground the hide would
wear through in three marches.
On the plains to the eastward of the camp roamed vast herds of
game—zebra, oryx, water-buck, and grantei. Rhinos were disgustingly
frequent, El Hakim shooting two more that had evinced an impertinent
curiosity regarding his movements, when he was taking a walk abroad one
afternoon. The rhinoceros were all of the black or prehensile-lipped
variety of the _Rhinoceros bicornis_, and we found that they had, on
the average, much smaller horns than other specimens of the same family
south of Kenia.
We all kept in splendid health, George and I in particular being burnt
almost black by the fierce sun; and we felt that we should be content
to remain where we were for an indefinite period. Game was more than
plentiful, the climate was glorious, and we were free as the pure air
we breathed. Only those who have been placed in similar circumstances
can appreciate the full value of that word “free.” We did precisely
what seemed good to us in our own eyes. We rose early, bathed in
the warm spring, ate our breakfast, and then went shooting, or, if
disinclined for that, we sat in a folding-chair in the shade of the
trees and read, or mended our clothes, ever and anon raising our eyes
to watch the herds of game walking steadily past our camp on their
way down to the river to drink. In time we got to know the various
herds, and even to recognize individual members of the same herd. The
different herds also had their regular times for drinking, which never
varied by more than a few minutes. The water-buck were the earliest;
they came down just after sunrise. At ten o’clock precisely the
graceful grantei would come down in herds, scouted by the young bucks.
They were followed at midday by the oryx; and at four in the afternoon
the zebra arrived in their turn. The rhinoceros, on the contrary, went
down at all times, whenever they felt inclined, though they usually
drink at night.
It was a perfectly Arcadian existence, which we left with very real
regret when the exigences of travel compelled us once more to resume
our weary march over the sun-scorched desert country down-river.
During our stay my shot-gun was not idle. In the evenings there were
numerous doves in the vicinity, which made a welcome change in our
menu; and now and again I secured a few grouse. Hares, too, were always
obtainable with a little trouble. One night, about eleven o’clock,
we were called out of bed by the sentry, who put his head into our
tent, and in an awestruck whisper ejaculated, “Kuja kutasamo m’bogo,
Bwana” (Come and see the buffalo, master). We went outside, where we
were joined by El Hakim, who had also been called. It was a brilliant
moonlight night, and the country was almost as clearly visible as in
the daytime. On the bank of our little stream, just opposite the camp,
a mighty herd of buffalo was marching along, utterly unconscious of
our proximity. They showed up wonderfully distinct in the brilliant
moonlight, as they stalked majestically past. A passing cloud covered
the face of the moon, and the weird sense of power and grandeur was
further heightened by the temporary obscurity, as the now dim and
ghost-like procession moved past. We gazed at them with a feeling that
was half exultation and half awe, as we reflected that to us had been
vouchsafed a sight at once so impressive and now, alas! so rare.[13]
As on the fifth day after the despatch of the men to M’thara there
were still no signs of them, we began to grow anxious, and sent Jumbi
and another man back to investigate, with orders to return in three
days at the utmost. Our provisions were also growing short, as we had
finished all our sugar; the mustard also had given out. Two days later,
as neither Jumbi nor the three men first sent to M’thara had put in an
appearance, we made arrangements to pay a flying visit to M’thara on
the morrow, to find out what had become of them, as we were more than
a little anxious about their safety. The next morning, therefore, the
absentees having made no sign, we started for M’thara, leaving two or
three men in charge of the camp. We took no tents or baggage—nothing
but a blanket each and some food, together with a good supply of
ammunition. After two hours on the road, to our great relief we met
the laggards returning with two Wandorobbo guides. They explained that
N’Dominuki had experienced some difficulty in procuring the guides, and
they were consequently detained. We were too thankful that they had
rejoined us in safety to critically examine their story, so we let it
pass, and at once retraced our steps, arriving at the “Green Camp” at
three o’clock in the afternoon.
The guides were typical specimens of the Wandorobbo hunter, and greatly
resembled each other in appearance. They were both elderly gentlemen,
with grey and grizzled hair. Though of medium height, their backs were
bowed, partly by age and partly by the stooping, creeping posture
they adopt when walking. They trod softly as cats, their heads thrust
forward, nothing on the road escaping their observant gaze, though
seemingly they were lost in abstraction. Each carried a small bow, a
bundle of arrows, tipped with poison, and a walking-staff. A strip
of goatskin, tied over the left shoulder, descending as far as the
waist, a bead necklet, and an armlet or two completed a by no means
superabundant costume. Their luggage consisted of a small skin bag,
containing a knife, a couple of pieces of wood for making fire, and a
few pieces of string; and in addition each carried four or five pounds
of Kikuyu tobacco, wrapped up with banana leaves into spherical parcels.
From them we learnt that the Rendili were a long distance down the
river—much farther down than we had been. This intelligence revived us
somewhat, and next morning we set off once more on our journey down
the river. The “cinder-heap” was once more crossed, but, thanks to the
guides, by a much better road than the one by which we had made our
toilsome march. The going was still bad enough, in all conscience, but
in comparison to our first experience our progress seemed wonderfully
easy. Besides, we knew the extent of the lava-belt now; before we did
not know what was in front of us, and the uncertainty had contributed
to no small extent to the magnifying of the horrors of our position.
We halted for breakfast on the other side of the lava-belt, and at 2
p.m. were preparing to resume the march, when Ramathani approached us
in a very hesitating manner, evidently wishing to communicate something
which he found unpleasant. Questioned as to what had happened, he
blurted out, “Bwana, _the guides have run away_!” We were absolutely
nonplussed. It is difficult at all times to fathom the motives that
influence a savage; but whatever could have induced those guides to
come three days’ journey to us, delaying us seven days meanwhile, only
to run away again on the first march, we could not possibly guess, nor
could we even faintly imagine.
We were now in a precisely similar position to that in which we had
been placed a fortnight before, with the single exception that we now
had certain information (for we saw no reason to doubt it) that the
Rendili were down the river. After a consultation we decided to push
on, guides or no guides, and trust to luck. We therefore resumed the
march, and, after a long hot tramp, reached our old camp of July 31
and August 4, where we remained for the night. A peculiar incident,
that I have never been able to understand, occurred on that day.
Before we resumed the march, after the desertion of the guides, I
went out of camp alone in search of game. The country was very rough,
being intersected in every direction by steep “kloofs” and “dongas,”
interspersed with gravelly mounds. Loose blocks of quartz were
scattered everywhere, mingled with flakes of rock-crystal and smaller
pieces of quartz of a greenish colour, due to the presence of epidote.
Stunted and misshapen thorny acacias and a few aloes formed almost
the only vegetation. I was laboriously climbing a gravelly slope,
when suddenly there was a rush and a roar as of a mighty whirlwind
bearing directly down upon me. I looked round in some alarm, as it is
very unpleasant being caught in one of these dust-devils with nothing
solid handy to hold on to. To my intense surprise I could see nothing
whatever. Not a leaf or a branch stirred, and not a particle of dust
or sand rose. The rushing, tearing sound increased in volume, and drew
nearer and nearer, finally seeming in full blast not more than twenty
feet from where I stood. But nothing stirred; the air was perfectly
clear, and everything else remaining still as death. It was a most
uncanny sensation. I abandoned the idea of a whirlwind, thinking
perhaps there might be a blow-hole in the vicinity for escaping
volcanic gases. I searched the neighbourhood carefully under that
impression, but found nothing of the sort. Finally, the sound died
away. Two or three times after that, during my walk, the same thing
occurred. On one occasion I seemed to be standing in the very midst of
the whirlwind. It rushed and roared round about me, and I involuntarily
gripped a tree-trunk to steady myself against the expected shock. But
nothing happened; nothing moved. I am not a nervous person, and my
reason convinced me that there was a perfectly natural explanation for
the phenomenon, but, nevertheless, I had a very nasty sensation in the
small of my back. I was irritated, also, at being unable to discover
the cause of the noise.
The next day we marched over the now familiar desert country to our
old “Swamp Camp.” Remembering the midges, we did not stop there,
but pushed on for another mile, and camped on the top of a cliff
overlooking the river. Opposite us the cliffs of red gneiss rose to
a height of over 300 feet. The face of the cliff was inhabited by
thousands of monkeys and baboons, who chattered excitedly over our
arrival, an excitement which was not allayed by a bullet I sent through
a group of them, which flattened itself against the cliff wall with a
sharp smack. They at once scattered to various places of safety behind
the rocks, and from thence made rude remarks in monkey language.
We went out after lunch to make a short survey of the route ahead. The
result was most discouraging; a more barren and desolate landscape I
had never seen. Soft brown earth, into which we sank over our ankles,
was strewn with volcanic _débris_ in the shape of our old enemy the
lava blocks. Vegetation was scarce, and game conspicuous by its
absence. It seemed rather a hopeless task to attempt to cross such
country without guides, but we determined to make a supreme effort.
We were now beginning to suffer a little for want of salt. I had a
nasty sinking feeling in my stomach, with a tendency to vomiting, and I
always felt empty inside, even immediately after a very full meat meal;
but this wore off after a week or two. We were restricted to a few
ounces of native meal (m’wele) per diem, which our _chef de cuisine_,
the indispensable Ramathani, made into little flat cakes, fried with
meat, which was the only other item on our menu.
For some days we ploughed over the rotten brown earth just described.
It was a painful experience, as the sharp blocks of quartz and lava
bruised our ill-shod feet. The sun was intensely hot, and distant
objects danced and shimmered in the heat-haze.
On the morning of August the 15th we had camped for breakfast on the
river-bank, when we were greatly excited by a sight of two sheep
grazing peacefully further down the river. Our men immediately started
in pursuit, and captured them after an exciting chase. They were of
the fat-tailed variety, and were Rendili sheep beyond a doubt. All
that afternoon was spent in searching the country round, but we saw no
signs that led us to believe that the country was inhabited. El Hakim
shot a rhinoceros while we were out. It was feeding in the open. He was
carrying the ·577, and proceeded to stalk it, accompanied by George,
who carried the ·450 Express. When within thirty yards of the rhino,
El Hakim motioned to George to remain where he was; he himself crawled
thirty yards to the left, so that hunters and hunted formed a triangle.
El Hakim fired, and the rhino, on receiving the shot, charged straight
down upon George. It was then that I had an opportunity of observing
a wonderful exhibition of nerve and true sportsmanship on George’s
part, begotten of the confidence we both placed in El Hakim’s skill.
Holding his rifle at the ready, George awaited the wounded beast’s mad
rush without a tremor, refraining from firing in order not to spoil
El Hakim’s second barrel—a confidence which was fully justified by
the result, as that individual’s left barrel spoke when the enraged
rhinoceros was within a dozen yards of George, dropping it dead with
a bullet through the heart. George afterwards declared that he could
not have stood the strain much longer, and would have fired in a few
seconds more. We had now sufficient meat for our immediate needs, and
were still determined to push on, though the country seemed almost
entirely devoid of game, and feeding ourselves and our men was getting
to be quite a serious problem. A rhinoceros only lasted the men two
days, as, in spite of its huge bulk, it cuts up very badly, there being
a good deal of waste; and, in addition, the men, who even at ordinary
times were tremendous meat-eaters, in the entire absence of cereals,
developed a carnal appetite that can only be described as monumental.
Returning to the spot where we had lunched, we resumed the march,
going another mile down the river before camping. When the tents were
pitched, Ramathani busied himself in cooking our unpalatable meal
of grantei-steak fried in an insufficiency of fat. Soon afterwards
we heard an excited shriek of “Afreet! afreet!” (Devil, devil) from
Ramathani and some of the other men near him. He rushed up to me and
implored me to bring my “bunduki ya n’dege” (literally, “bird-gun”) and
slay the “afreet.” I laughingly inquired where the “afreet” was, and
he pointed upwards into the branches of a large tree, whose branches
spread laterally over the fire at which he was cooking. I could not
see anything, and was about to turn away, ridiculing him; but the men
appeared so genuinely terror-stricken that I paused and looked up
again. Judge of my surprise when I discovered that the “afreet” was
nothing more than a large water-lizard stretched out on a branch. A
dose of No. 6 shot on the side of the head brought it down with a thump
on the ground. Examination showed that none of my shot had penetrated
its skull or body, it being merely stunned by the shock. None of the
men could be induced to touch it under any pretext whatever, saying
that it was highly poisonous, and its bite meant instant death; so,
seizing it by the tail, I carried it over to our table. It woke up
while I was carrying it, and, squirming upwards, attempted to bite me,
causing me to drop it hurriedly, to the intense amusement of the men. I
killed and dissected it. Its heart beat for quite half an hour after I
had removed it from the body. The reptile was four feet in length, and
over a foot in girth.
The next morning we divided the men into small parties and sent them
out to search the surrounding country for inhabitants, while I climbed
a hill near the camp and minutely examined, with the binoculars, the
whole country round; but in vain. There was no sign of any inhabitants;
the country seeming to be deserted by man and beast alike, and lay
under the scorching sun “the abomination of desolation.”
I returned to camp at midday, the search parties returning at the
same time reporting that they had seen no signs of the Rendili nor
indeed traces of anybody whatsoever. We therefore resumed our march
down the river at half-past two in the afternoon. The vegetation had
almost disappeared, with the exception that along the river-banks a few
rows of thorn trees here and there indicated the position of lines of
depression in the earth’s surface, probably the beds of sand rivers;
the rest of the country was strewn with stony _débris_ which converted
a march into a painful and difficult pilgrimage.
At sundown we pitched the tents, but found that it was impossible to
drive the pegs into the rocky ground, so the guy ropes had to be made
fast to huge boulders collected and piled for the purpose. To add
to our discomfort, a strong cold wind sprang up as the sun set, and
blew great guns all night, the tents thrashing and thundering in a
way that precluded sleep, and threatened every moment to blow bodily
away. Firewood also was scarce, and the men spent a most miserable
night in consequence. The two Rendili sheep, which we had been keeping
for our own consumption, escaped during the night, and we never saw
them again. We did not linger long in that inhospitable spot, but at
sunrise again resumed our weary march down-stream.
Game was absolutely non-existent, and the men, having finished the
last of the rhinoceros, were in great need of food. Where it was to be
obtained we could not imagine, unless we were to kill one or two of our
cattle, which we were very loth to do, except as a very last resource.
After a solid four hours’ march we camped on the river-bank under a
clump of palms, and determined on the morrow to make one last effort to
find the Rendili by means of search parties, and then, if there were
still no signs of them, to make the best of our way back to the game
country by forced marches.
The animals were sadly out of condition for want of proper and
sufficient nourishment, and we were afraid that if we went further and
were still unsuccessful in our search, they would all die before we
could get back. “It is a long lane that has no turning,” however, and
about four o’clock in the afternoon one of the men, whom we had sent
out to look for game, came into camp, shouting excitedly that he had
seen “many people.” El Hakim and George at once saddled up the mules
and investigated. The “many people” turned out to be eighty of the
Somalis’ men, bound for Dhaicho (a trading settlement on the eastern
side of Embe) in order to buy food. Most important of all, they told
us that Ismail, with the main body, was camped among the Rendili, who
were _five days’ march further down the river_. This news cheered us
up wonderfully. Resting our men for the remainder of the day, we were
on our way again on the following morning long before daylight, led by
a guide lent us by the Somalis. We pushed forward as fast as our men
could travel, and we had every reason for haste, as they were entirely
without food. We halted at ten o’clock in the forenoon for breakfast.
At least _we_ breakfasted, the men having nothing to eat at all, while
we had little more. At two o’clock we were again on the road, and at
four o’clock camped for the night, the men being exhausted. Jumbi, and
Malwa, the head-man of the Wa’kamba, did not come in with the others.
Inquiries elicited the fact that, owing to either Jumbi’s or Malwa’s
carelessness, the five camels had strayed on the road and were lost. El
Hakim was very much annoyed, as he had always been very proud of his
camels, nursing them tenderly, and taking great pains to ensure their
health and comfort.
The next morning the camels had not turned up, neither had Jumbi nor
Malwa. El Hakim, being eager to reach the Rendili encampment, pushed
on with nothing but his tent and a little food, leaving George and me
behind with the bulk of the safari to send search parties out after the
camels. At eleven o’clock Jumbi and Malwa came into camp _without_ the
camels. They were very frightened, rightly dreading El Hakim’s anger,
and were considerably relieved when they found only George and me in
camp. At that moment some of the men, whom we had despatched earlier
in the morning in search of the missing animals, came in and reported
that they had seen the tracks of the camels leading away to the south
straight towards the hills, some days’ journey distant, which proved
to be the extreme north-eastern end of the Jombeni range, inhabited
by our _bêtes noires_ the Wa’embe. I immediately despatched Jumbi and
Malwa, together with the men who had seen the tracks, to follow them
up, instructing them to find the camels if possible, but if not, to
return and follow me, as I was going on after El Hakim. After they had
rested awhile they departed on their errand, and at two o’clock in the
afternoon, George and I, having forded the river—which was quite easily
done, as it was very broad and came no higher than one’s middle—marched
steadily and rapidly down the north bank of the river in El Hakim’s
wake. We marched for four hours, passing the falls discovered by and
named after Mr. Chanler, an hour after starting. The vegetation was now
somewhat more dense, the wait-a-bit thorn becoming quite inconveniently
frequent; the country also tended to become gravelly underfoot, and the
very reverse of level.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at a range of rocky hills some three
or four hundred feet in height, which extended for some miles at right
angles to the river, and consequently right across our path. So far we
had seen no signs of El Hakim, so I decided to push on at all costs,
and with great difficulty we climbed to the summit of the range.
When we reached the top a beautiful and welcome sight met our weary
eyes. Away to the right, curving round the end of the range, ran the
dark green line of the Waso Nyiro. A day’s march further on it branched
out into numerous broad shallow channels, spreading over a tract
of country perhaps ten miles long and four miles wide. Innumerable
Doum palms covered this tract with a beautiful mass of greenery,
interspersed with patches of pure white sand. Immediately outside
the palm region the country changed sharply to desert again, which
stretched dazzlingly white and perfectly level to the encircling
horizon. I had no doubt but that we should find the Rendili encamped
near the palms. The river emerged from the other side of this fertile
tract, and winding round the southern spur of a vast and lofty
tableland, which showed dimly in the distance, disappeared from view
on its way to the mysterious and unexplored “Lorian.” The plateau I
recognized as the Marisi el Lugwazambo. It can be imagined with what
joyful emotions we gazed on the mass of vivid green spread at our feet,
after so many scorching days of brown earth and bare rock. I could
quite realize the sensations of Moses as he gazed on the “Promised
Land” from the summit of Mount Pisgah.
It was almost time, too, that we reached our long-desired goal. Our men
had not enjoyed a full meal since El Hakim shot the rhinoceros four
days before, and they were almost famished. We ourselves were little
better off, having tasted nothing for two days but a few miserable
M’wele cakes, no larger than a five-shilling piece. We could not stop
on the summit of the hill for an indefinite period, however, much as
we admired the view—our needs were too imperative; so with a last long
look at the beautiful scene, we turned and cast about for a path by
which to descend to the plain below. To our dismay, we discovered that
the cliff dropped sheer down for two hundred feet without foothold
enough for a goat. After trying two or three places without success,
we were eventually compelled to force our way along the crest of the
ridge, in the hope of finding some sort of path nearer the river. It
was a terrible scramble, and I should think it very unlikely that even
natives had ever been on to the top before—certainly no white man ever
had. The wait-a-bit thorns grew together in an almost impenetrable
wall, necessitating constant work with our knives to free ourselves.
Great boulders barred our progress, and gravel and pebbles slipped
under our feet, so that by the time we had covered a mile we were tired
out.
[Illustration: PALMS ON THE WASO NYIRO.]
Just before sunset George spotted a possibly likely place for the
descent. It certainly looked desperate enough, but by this time we
were beyond counting the risks. We scrambled down, therefore, leaping
from boulder to boulder, and every few moments having to stop in order
to cut ourselves free with our knives from the clinging embrace of the
ubiquitous “wait-a-bit.” Our clothes and skin suffered terribly, but we
were determined to reach the bottom somehow, and plunged and scrambled
downwards, regardless of minor personal injuries. Halfway down we heard
a shot from among the greenery near the river, which I recognized as
El Hakim’s ·450. I answered it with another shot in order to apprize
him of our presence, and continued the descent. Finally we reached the
bottom, breathless and bleeding, our clothes literally in ribbons. The
donkeys and cattle followed us, scrambling down in some remarkable
manner, though how I could not stop to inquire. Most probably they,
like ourselves, were induced by the sight of the green vegetation and
the smell of water to attempt a descent which at any other time they
would never have faced.
Another three-quarters of an hour over the flat brought us to the spot
where El Hakim was already camped. The report we had heard had been the
death-knell of a Waller’s gazelle (_Lithocranius Walleri_), which was
at once divided among the men, so that they had at least a taste of
meat to go on with—we ourselves dining on two guinea-fowl, one of which
I had shot on the road, the other having been secured by El Hakim. We
were all tired out, and turned in immediately we had finished eating.
The tents were not needed, the climate being so mild. Indeed, from
now onwards, till we were once more at this point on our way back to
Kenia, we did not need to use the tents at all, except for the sake of
privacy.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] The rinderpest has all but exterminated the buffalo and the eland
in British East Africa, as elsewhere on the African continent.