_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.
An hour before sunrise we arose, and, giving the men the most precise
instructions to husband their ammunition to the utmost and leave any
shooting to George and myself should it become necessary, we marched on
to Bei-Munithu’s village. The moment we sighted it, where it stood on
the summit of a hill, we rushed forward with a cheer, and, swarming up
the side of the hill, we succeeded in getting into the village before
the inhabitants knew what was happening. It was captured without a shot
being fired, the natives fleeing out at the other end and into the
bush. Instructing the men to collect as much food as they could carry,
I took three or four with me and made for the huts where our goods
were stored. Breaking them open, we soon had the loads out, and I then
proceeded to Bei-Munithu’s hut. Bei-Munithu himself was nowhere to be
seen. On searching his hut I found a large quantity of our goods stowed
away in odd corners, and I was not at all surprised to find that some
of them were a portion of the goods which were supposed to have been
stolen from Bei-Munithu’s charge by the Wa’gnainu, and in which that
old arch-traitor had evidently gone shares. I also found and promptly
confiscated an old muzzle-loading musket, which was among his most
treasured possessions.
By this time, as the men had collected all our loads of trade goods and
also a few loads of food, I gave the command to retire. As I did so the
phwit! phwit! of poisoned arrows aroused our attention, and a few of
the tiny feathered shafts fell into the village and stuck quivering in
the ground. It was very evident that the A’kikuyu did not intend to let
us get away without a struggle. The men had also collected a few head
of cattle and a large number of sheep and goats; and as it seemed that
we should have to fight, I determined to make a running fight of it,
and make it a good one while we were about it, and so teach the enemy a
lesson, though we were sadly handicapped for want of Snider ammunition.
When I had got my little force together, I first set fire to the
village, and then formed them up outside. As the enemy would most
likely harass our rear, I took the rearguard myself, putting George in
command of the bulk of the men, with the loads and the captured stock.
I asked him at the same time to see that the men did not fire a shot
till it was absolutely necessary. Barri, the Somali, took the advance
guard of our little column.
By this time the smoke of the burning village and the cries of the
fugitive inhabitants had aroused the whole country-side, and from the
manner in which the war-cries resounded over hill and dale on every
side, we discovered that we were in for a rather rough time. Our little
force therefore moved off in the order described at ten minutes to
eight in the morning, on the return march to M’thara.
The first hour’s march took us through a number of scattered villages,
the inhabitants of which fled on our approach and joined the
ever-growing force which threatened our rear. The villages were built
in the midst of extensive banana plantations, and it was here that the
first symptoms of serious opposition manifested themselves. A number
of warriors concealed among the bananas commenced to pepper us with
poisoned arrows at very short range, though fortunately none of the men
were hit. One bold warrior let fly an arrow at George at not more than
thirty yards, and then, catching my eye, he subsided behind a banana
tree. He did not take into account the penetrative power of a ·303, and
I think he must have been a very surprised native indeed when my bullet
passed through the pulpy stem of the banana. Another let fly an arrow
at the mule, which was being led, and missed her by an inch. George
caught him with the 20-bore, dropping him, and then, swinging round,
stopped another adventurous warrior who was creeping up to him with the
other barrel, to the native’s intense discomfiture.
After a little more light skirmishing of this description on the route,
we reached a small clearing, and on coming out into the open were
cordially greeted with a shower of arrows from a large number of the
enemy concealed in the bush on the opposite side. A smart fusillade
from our men put a temporary check on the proceedings of this informal
reception committee, and we continued our advance. Another warrior,
who recklessly exposed his person in order to make insulting remarks
with greater effect, retired precipitately with a much better idea of
the theory of projectiles than he had hitherto possessed; and another
who received a spherical ball in the leg at 200 yards from George,
ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings. After this
interchange of civilities the enemy kept out of range for awhile, and
allowed us to cross the remainder of the banana plantations in safety,
and into the thick bush on the other side; however, they were merely
gathering reinforcements and preparing to attack in earnest.
It being, I believe, an axiom of warfare that “a retreating column
should resemble a scorpion and carry its sting in its tail,” I picked
out Resarse ben Shokar and Asmani ben Selim as being two of the coolest
men, and they, together with a boy named Koranja, who carried my
cartridge-bag and binoculars, formed my rearguard. George, with the
main body of the men, had his hands full in preventing them firing away
their few cartridges at the scenery, and then throwing down their loads
and bolting—a proceeding which would have resulted in immediate and
overwhelming disaster.
When we got into the thick bush the enemy tried several times to rush
us, but the bush was as much in our favour as theirs, as it was too
thick for them to use their arrows, for which providential circumstance
I was devoutly thankful. Once or twice some of the bolder spirits
advanced openly along the rearward path in the endeavour to rush my
two men and myself, and cut us off, but the Lee-Metford is a beautiful
weapon under such circumstances, and they abandoned the attempt. The
enemy were constantly increasing in numbers, and the noise they made
with their shouting and war-cries was terrific. I think they did it
to keep their courage up, but it is a terrible waste of breath. They
soon afterwards concentrated in force on our flanks and rear and tried
another rush, but we were able by judicious shooting to keep them from
getting too close.
The bush now ended in a ravine, at the bottom of which was a small
stream. On the opposite bank of the stream was the edge of the thick
forest which I have previously mentioned, and which extended as far as
the open space called Karanjui, an hour’s journey further on. While
George superintended the crossing of the men and animals, I and my two
men squatted down in the bush at a turn in the path, about a hundred
yards in the rear, and prepared a surprise for the enemy. They were
howling in a most unmelodious key, and between the howls they informed
us that they were coming to kill us, a piece of news which seemed to
me to be quite superfluous under the circumstances; they added the
interesting information that they were going ahead of us into the wood,
and were there going to ambush us. I had already guessed that such was
their intention, but I determined that such an awkward situation should
not occur if I could prevent it. Our men in their turn inquired why,
if they were coming to kill us, did they not come and carry out their
intention? It appears that these exchanges of repartee are part of the
ceremonial of A’kikuyu warfare, though at the time it seemed to me
to be very childish. The enemy then shouted, “Resarse kutire mwaka,”
literally, “Your bullets have no fire;” meaning to say that they did
not hurt—evidently Bei-Munithu’s teaching. They were asked to “come and
see,” an invitation they accepted. My little ambush worked perfectly,
and they were within twenty yards when I opened fire. Two of them were
put out of action at the first discharge, and the others retreated in
disorder, having learnt a wholesome lesson.
A message from George then reached me, informing me that all the men
and animals were now safely across the stream, so I followed him. Just
as I got across the stream in my turn, some of the enemy, who had
crossed higher up, made another rush, one of the most dangerous they
had so far attempted. They got close enough this time to throw spears,
one of which killed an unfortunate goat. I used my revolver, and George
his gun, and they once more retired. One of the A’kikuyu who threw a
spear was shot with an arrow by one of our Wakamba, who carried a bow
and arrows which he had found in Bei-Munithu’s village. The M’kikuyu’s
arm was still uplifted in the act of throwing the spear when our man’s
arrow caught him in the side of the chest, under the armpit. The light
arrow went halfway through his chest as easily as if he had been made
of butter. If I had not seen it myself, I should not have credited
their tiny arrows with such penetrative power. After crossing the
stream we were beyond the boundary of the Munithu district, and I did
not think it probable that we should be followed any further, as these
people do not as a rule go into the territory of another tribe; but in
this case I was mistaken.
During our march through the forest they made one or two abortive
attempts to close with us, but finally contented themselves with
howling, and, between the howls, threatening what they would do to
us when they got us to Karanjui. It was my intention to try to reach
Karanjui first, so that we might have a reasonable chance of crossing
it before the enemy surrounded us. This we succeeded in doing, and we
were halfway across when the leading warriors, forsaking the cover of
the forest, trooped out into the open about 300 yards away. Asmani and
Resarse, for whose conduct I have nothing but praise, waited behind to
assist me in delaying the A’kikuyu, and so enabling George with the men
and cattle to get across and into the cover of the forest on the other
side. One of the enemy, bolder than the others, climbed on an ant-hill
70 yards distant from me, and danced at us in derision, making obscene
gestures and insulting remarks. He desisted, however, on receiving a
message from the ·303 that he was unable to disregard.
The next move of the enemy was to try to work round the western edge
of Karanjui, which was about 500 yards away, and so get ahead of us. I
took a few long shots at them, and wounded one man (who I afterwards
found out to be a nephew of Bei-Munithu) in the leg, and soon stopped
that game. George and the others were by this time once more in the
forest, so I retired from my place in the open, and with my two men
took up a fresh position at the entrance to the path leading into
the forest. The enemy could not then see me, and, supposing I had
gone on, they all came out into the open. When I saw their numbers I
fairly gasped. “Wow,” said Resarse, “Watu winge, bwana” (There are
many people, master), while Asmani merely grunted. They poured out of
the forest paths in never-ending lines, till I thought every native
in North Kenia was present. The plain soon became fairly black with
them, and as they shouted and danced with their gaily painted shields
and glittering spears flashing in the sun, I thought that a very short
time indeed would see the end of my career. If “Captain Kettle” had
been present at that moment, he would have considered it a particularly
appropriate time to have composed a short piece of poetry; for myself,
I simply broke out into a profuse perspiration, and proceeded to count
my ammunition. It was with a horrible sinking feeling in the region
of the belt that I discovered that I had only twenty rifle cartridges
left, with about eighteen revolver ditto, and for a moment my nerve
almost failed me as I realized what a really serious position we were
in. It was only for a moment, however, and shouting to George to hurry
on with the men as fast as possible to Chanjai, and bidding the boy
Koranja go on with them, I settled down with Asmani and Resarse in a
last desperate endeavour to turn the pursuit.
My plan was to expend my twenty cartridges in long-range rifle
practice, and then hurry along after George, and trust to my revolver
_en route_. After the first shot or two I found the range, and dropped
one man at 300 yards, and then, as his companions scattered, I wounded
another at 500 yards. The result was extremely gratifying, as the
whole body of the enemy, and there must have been at least a thousand
of them, then took cover and grovelled on their faces in the grass. I
breathed freely once more, as I felt that I had got the enemy in hand.
Soon a few of them rose to their feet again, but I waited till most of
them had done so, and once more started in with the rifle. Down they
all went again as regularly as clockwork. Asmani and Resarse shook
with laughter at the sight. It really was too ridiculous to see the
plain, which one moment would be covered with fierce black figures, and
then on the sound of a shot the whole crowd disappear as one man, and
nothing would be seen but the yellow tint of the waving grass.
After an expenditure of ten cartridges in this manner the A’kikuyu
seemed to come to their senses, and they shouted that they “did not
know the Wasungu were present,” but they now acknowledged their
mistake, and added something to the effect that they were now quite
convinced that the rifles of the Wasungu were not made solely for
ornament. Without replying, I and my two men hurried on in George’s
wake, and soon came up with him. I found that he had forty cartridges
left, so that we had still a reasonable chance of getting back to camp.
We were not attacked in the second belt of forest, and on reaching
the next open space we found to our infinite relief that the pursuit
had almost entirely ceased; only a few natives following us, and those
taking good care to keep out of range. We crossed another bush-belt and
came out into the open plains at the foot of the Chanjai hills, and
there the enemy finally abandoned the chase.
After a few minutes’ halt to rest, we resumed our march to camp. George
now mounted the mule, intending to ride for an hour and then give me a
turn, as we were both rather tucked up. We had marched for perhaps half
an hour, when the mule suddenly shied, and, the girth breaking, George
was thrown heavily to the ground. He fell on the back of his head and
lay still. I hurried up, but before I could get near he was picked up
by a couple of the men. When I finally reached him I asked if he were
hurt, and he answered in a strange hollow sort of voice that he was
“not hurt, only badly shaken.” This statement he repeated several times
in a most aimless manner. I shook him a bit, but could get nothing more
out of him. Suddenly he asked me if he might lean on me; he appeared
to keep his feet with difficulty. In a few moments he seemed to be
sufficiently recovered to ride again, and as the men had now caught the
mule, I readjusted the saddle and helped him up, advising him to watch
the mule closely in case she shied again. “All right,” he said, still
in the same strained voice, and he went on again, while I resumed my
position in the rear. Ten minutes later I saw him stop and wait for
me to come up. When I reached him he asked in his natural voice what
had happened? He had _absolutely no recollection_ of his fall from
the mule or the events immediately following it till he came to, and
found himself on the mule quite ten minutes later. I told him what had
happened, though he was manifestly incredulous. Beyond a few bruises
and a headache he was not much hurt, and he never felt any serious
after-effects.
We reached camp at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, after a solid seven-hour
march, three hours of which were spent in continuous fighting. I did
the whole distance on my feet, and by the time we reached camp felt
pretty well done up.
The casualties on the enemy’s side, so far as I could ascertain,
amounted to about nineteen. On our side we had one goat killed; a
marvellous escape, all things considered.
When we got into camp we found everything safe. El Hakim was very
surprised at our account of the persistent manner in which the natives
had followed us, and expressed himself in warm terms on the way in
which we managed to get away without any serious mishap.
Soon after our arrival we were surprised to see old Bei-Munithu
come into camp. He had come to beg our pardon, and to swear eternal
friendship in future. He bore no malice, which, to my mind, is a most
engaging trait in the Kikuyu character. The A’kikuyu know when they
are beaten, and a few hours after a life-and-death struggle with one,
in which they had been vanquished, they will come into one’s camp and
talk over it with a primitive frankness which I think delightful. Of
course, should matters go the other way, they would just as cheerfully
dance over your dismembered corpse, and should a favourable opportunity
arise they would not hesitate to attempt any underhand trick; it is all
the same to them. If their traitorous intentions are discovered and
frustrated, they reason among themselves, “This is a very sharp and
clever M’sungu. Let us go and see him, and eat food in his camp;”
and away they go on a visit to their erstwhile enemy, and, after eating
and making merry at his expense, they bid him a cordial adieu and
perhaps attack him again next day. It is all so delightfully childlike,
and primitive, and savage, that one cannot find it in one’s heart to
bear any malice.
[Illustration: A’KIKUYU WEAPONS.
1. A’kikuyu shield.
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Spears in use among the A’kikuyu.
8. Axe.
9. Knife.
10. Leather quiver for poisoned arrows.
11. Sword in leather sheath.
12. Iron club formed of two iron nuts from the railway.
13. Sword.
15. Poisoned arrow, showing leather wrapping to preserve the poison.
16. Poisoned arrow, unwrapped.
14, 17, 18. Wooden clubs.]
To return to Bei-Munithu. That old savage admitted that he had been
very foolish, and had only been treated as he deserved, and undertook
in future to treat all white men who came into his district with
the greatest consideration. In the mean time he would like to make
blood-brotherhood with George and myself. He was sorry, he added
naïvely, that he had not done so on our way up. I told him that I hoped
it would be a lesson to him, and pointed out that N’Dominuki, who
had remained faithful, was now reaping his reward in the presents we
showered upon him. Bei-Munithu then returned to his village, escorted
by Jumbi and half a dozen men as far as Karanjui, in order to prevent
the possibility of the Wa’Chanjei waylaying and murdering him.
As we had now a moderate quantity of food, we proposed starting on
the following morning on our march round Kenia. The rain, however,
once more descended in torrents, and drove us to the shelter of our
tents for the next two days. We occupied ourselves during that time,
partly in arranging and distributing loads, and partly in dispensing
ointment to the constant stream of women and children who came into
camp, suffering from chiggers. We also bought a few live fowls, which
we carried with us.
_Apropos_ of fowls, and as an instance of the ignorance often displayed
by natives about anything outside their own particular concerns, I give
an experience which once befell, El Hakim at Nyemps, the settlement at
the south of Lake Baringo. On one occasion when visiting that place El
Hakim took with him a dozen or so live fowls. Leaving there on one of
his periodical excursions after elephants, he placed them in the care
of an old man in Nyemps. Owing to unforeseen circumstances he did not
return for six months. On his arrival there at the end of that time he
inquired after his fowls. The old man who had been charged with their
care led the way outside and pointed them out. As El Hakim did not see
any chickens he concluded that the old man had eaten the eggs, and
inquired if such were the case. After a little the old man seemed to
understand, and, shaking his head, beckoned El Hakim to follow him.
He led him into a hut, and displacing a stone which covered a hole
in the centre of the floor, he proudly exhibited to El Hakim the six
months’ collection of eggs, which were stored in the hole against his
return. Asked why he had not eaten them, the old fellow looked amazed;
he was apparently quite ignorant of the fact that they were eatable.
He immediately called some of his cronies to him, and explained the
seeming wonder to them. Their eyes glistened when the name of food
was mentioned, and they immediately begged El Hakim to give them the
eggs, which he did. They then doubtfully proceeded to test the truth of
the M’sungu’s words, a proceeding which, as the eggs were some months
old, led to the most disastrous results, and they became more than
ever convinced that El Hakim was a most terrible liar. Further inquiry
showed that they were perfectly ignorant of the nature of eggs, and of
the part they played in the economy of nature.
At eleven o’clock in the morning of the fourteenth day after our
arrival at M’thara from the Waso Nyiro the rain ceased, and taking
advantage of the sunshine, we made hasty preparations for a start.
A number of Wakamba who had wandered from their own country during
the famine, desired to return with us, and we allowed them to do so.
This necessitated a rearrangement of the loads. There was, of course,
a quarrel over the ivory. Resarse seized the 75-lb. tusk, and held it
against all comers, until he was allowed to carry it. His previous load
weighed barely 60 lbs. This was a striking illustration of the force
of training. For centuries the Arabs, for interested reasons, have
instilled into the mind of the Zanzibari that it is an honour to carry
the largest tusk; with the result that it is now a part and parcel of
safari “dasturi” (custom), which is like unto the “laws of the Medes
and Persians, which altereth not.” However, after the usual squabbling,
everything was arranged more or less satisfactorily, and bidding
N’Dominuki farewell, we started on our long tramp to Nairobi.
Scarcely had we been an hour on the road when down came the rain again.
It was impossible to get the sheep or cattle to travel in the rain.
All they would do was to turn their backs to it and stand motionless.
The rain soon converted the narrow path into a gutter, and when the
downpour finally ceased, just before dusk, we were splashing through
water over our ankles. We only made a little more than an hour’s
ordinary march, and even then some of the sheep did not get into camp
until long after dark. The hyænas were very bold, and in spite of the
extra men whom we sent to the assistance of the drovers, they got among
the sheep in the darkness and killed several.
All night long it rained in torrents, and we awoke in the morning to
find over thirty sheep stretched out lifeless on the sodden earth. It
was really most disheartening.
We made a start again at ten o’clock and marched in a westerly
direction, the country gradually ascending as we progressed westwards.
From our camping-place the following evening we looked down on M’thara
and Embe, while the temperature was appreciably lower. On the next
day’s march we crossed over country of a rocky and gravelly formation,
dotted everywhere with the peculiar whistling trees, which made a very
weird and mournful sound in the breeze. It was a small thorny tree
from four to eight feet in height, the leafless branches of which are
covered with hollow spherical seed-pods, black in colour and the size
of a plum. An insect bores a small hole in this shell, which, when
the wind blows, causes it to emit a musical note, similar to that
produced by an Eolian harp. These whistling trees covered the country
for miles, and whistled in all keys at every breath of wind; the sound
now increasing in volume, and anon dying away in a mournful wail that
sounded almost uncanny.
We saw a solitary lioness on the road, but as soon as she saw us
she made off at top speed over the open, before we could get within
reasonable range.
We camped at some water-pools which the rain had left in a depression
in the rocky surface. The men informed us that they had heard in
M’thara that there was no water beyond these pools for ten days’ march;
but though there were no rivers marked on my map, we felt convinced
that there must be some rivers on the north side.
Joseph Thompson says, “A very few streams, and those of the smallest,
rise on the east and north side” (of Kenia).
On the contrary, we had found the east of Kenia exceedingly well
watered, though there were certainly no very large rivers, and as
events proved, Thompson was equally at fault as regards the north side.
But then he never visited north or east Kenia, his knowledge of those
parts having been derived from native sources.
However, we felt certain that we should find water, so we pursued the
uneven tenor of our way in spite of the maps.
We were still ascending, and the air began to get very cold at night;
though the sun’s rays, when it was not raining, beat down during the
day with undiminished vigour. Owing to the formation of the country,
walking was by no means an unmixed pleasure, sand, gravel, and loose
blocks of lava, and fragments of white quartz, making travelling both
tiresome and fatiguing.
There was no game, and even the vegetation was very scanty; a few
stunted thorn trees, and a species of aloe with red flowers, and some
isolated Euphorbias forming the sole representatives of the vegetable
world. The giant-branched Euphorbias (_Nyikæ pax_), presented a
peculiar appearance with their huge cactus-like stem and vertical
branches, which gave them the appearance of an immense candelabra. Some
of them were thirty feet in height, with a stem six or eight feet in
diameter. Great ravines, similar to those of east Kenia, but without
their luxuriant vegetation, traverse the country from south to north.
They required careful negotiation. Some of them had to be followed for
miles along the edge before a suitable crossing-place was discovered.
They all have considerable streams of water in the bottom, which flow
north, and eventually join the Waso Nyiro.
We saw another lion, and stalked him for awhile, but he retreated into
a patch of bush near one of the ravines and could not be found, nor
could we waste much time in looking for him.
Late in the afternoon, on October 27th, we crossed a large ravine, and
on climbing the opposite slope we emerged into open green country.
As far as the eye could see the grass-grown surface rolled away in
undulating ridges, without a tree or a bush to relieve the eye. It
reminded me very much of portions of the Downs in Sussex, from which
the trees had been removed. A herd of zebra disported themselves on the
plain, and after a careful stalk I secured one of them for the men, who
were already growing short of food. We camped that night on the grass,
the air being very much colder, the temperature being certainly not
more than 55° Fahrenheit.