The Wanderobo—Visit from the Wanderobo chief—Native bartering—A grand
meeting of surrounding tribes for blood brotherhood under my
auspices—Dancing frenzy—Native ideas of a future life—Again trek for the
unknown—Attacked by natives—Chief’s admonition—Decide to visit the
Wanderobo chief Olomondo—Wanderobo gluttony—The honey bird—Wanderobo
methods of hunting—Massacre of a Goanese safari—My narrow escape—General
uprising of hostile tribes—Rise of the Chinga tribe against me—My
precarious position—Successful sally and total defeat of the enemy—My
blood brother, the Kikuyu chieftain, comes to my aid with thousands of
armed men—Total extinction of the Chinga people
During my stay at Wagombi’s another chief turned up, who proved to be a
man named Olomondo, chief of the Wanderobo tribe. The Wanderobo are a
race of hunters, who live entirely by hunting, and inhabit the country
round Mount Kenia and on the great plain adjoining Wagombi’s country,
down towards the Guasa Nyero River. Olomondo came to see me, and,
according to the custom of the country, brought me a present of honey.
It is always customary when making a visit to a stranger to bring a
present, and the recipient is himself expected to return the compliment
by giving a present of at least an equal value to the one he has
received. This man was plainly quite a different type of native to
Wagombi’s people, being rather sharp-featured and practically the same
as the Masai. I found out, in the course of conversation, that his clan
numbered about six hundred men, besides women and children, and that
their kraal was about two days’ march to the north-west of us. He
mentioned the Maswatch-wanya, and told me that in the course of his
hunting he had seen these pigmy people, but had never got into
communication with them. It was Wagombi’s boast that Mount Kenia
belonged to him and the Wanderobo were his people, and joined him if
there was a fight. I afterwards found that they were a very timid
people, but, judging from the quality of their weapons, I should imagine
that they could put up a good fight, Olomondo’s bow and arrows being
much larger and stronger than those of the Kikuyu, which were like toys
in comparison, while as a proof of their ability to use them, I saw
Olomondo put an arrow clean through an antelope as big as a sheep. He
invited me out to his camp, saying that he had some ivory for sale, and
also saying that there was any amount of game out on the plain, and
asking me to go hunting with him. This I promised to do later on.
Incidentally, he complained of the Kikuyu getting his ivory, as many of
the elephants his people wounded strayed away and died in the forest,
and the Kikuyu would find their bodies and take the ivory. I told him
that I was afraid I could not do anything in the matter, as it was quite
impossible to trace the ivory. The Wanderobo knew the commercial value
of ivory, and had sold it to the Arab and Swahili traders.
After some discussion it was arranged that Olomondo should make blood
brotherhood with me at the same time as the other chiefs, and the
difficulty then arose as to where the ceremony should take place.
Wagombi, being the biggest chief, naturally wanted it to take place at
Mount Kenia, but on messages being sent to Karkerrie and Muga-wa-diga,
they refused to come to Wagombi’s, saying that they were enemies of each
other, and that they had no guarantee that they would not be murdered on
the way. I then suggested to Wagombi that he should send them each a
present of a goat or a sheep, but he said that he would sooner eat them
himself. He was a bigger man than either of the other chiefs, and it was
for them to send him a present first. For some time there was a
deadlock, but I finally got out of the difficulty by asking Wagombi if
he would give me the presents. He replied, “Certainly, you can have a
hundred if you like. My place is yours, take anything you want.” I said
that I did not want anything out of the ordinary; if he would give me
one or two sheep, that was all that I wanted; so he had the sheep
brought in. I then said, “All right, you have given me these sheep, I
can do anything I like with them.” He replied, “Yes, they are yours, I
have given them to you.” So I then told him that I intended to send one
sheep to Karkerrie and one to Muga-wa-diga, telling them that they were
presents from him and myself, and I also arranged with them that we
should meet about half-way, and selected a place for the ceremony.
Eventually they all agreed to this and the day was fixed.
The site I had chosen formed a natural amphitheatre, and was a spot I
had noted on my way to Wagombi’s from Tato. It was an open space, which
I was told was used at certain times as a market-place, and I had an
opportunity later on of seeing one of these markets held. On that
occasion hundreds of natives collected there for the purpose of
exchanging their various goods. The noise of haggling and bargaining was
terrific. One thing I noticed was that there was no livestock in the
market, but all other kinds of produce were to be seen, and it was
amusing to watch a couple of old women arguing as to how many sweet
potatoes ought to be exchanged for so many beans. One crowd would have
loads of calabashes, while another would be selling piles of
cooking-pots made of a sort of clay, only to be found in certain parts
of the country, which was especially suitable for that purpose; while in
another part of the market large quantities of the red ochre—or
_siriga_, as it is called—which the natives used for painting their
bodies was to be had. Another peculiar thing I noticed was the selling
of the native drink njohi, in exchange for a hornful of which I saw a
native pay over a hornful of beans. Having no money, everything was
bought and sold by means of a system of barter, which was not
accomplished without much arguing and haggling, everybody gesticulating
and shouting at once.
[Illustration: A GROUP OF WA-KIKUYU PORTERS AND THE AUTHOR]
It was on the site of this market-ground that the ceremony of blood
brotherhood was to take place, and it was looked upon as a great event
in the country, and the occasion for much feasting and rejoicing.
Thousands of the natives attended, each chief bringing a large crowd of
followers, while all the tribes in the neighbourhood were fully
represented, but no women or children were present. Wagombi took quite a
large number of his people, and I took the bulk of mine, leaving only a
few in charge of the camp; while Olomondo, the Wanderobo chief, had
about ten of his men with him. An immense crowd had already gathered
when we arrived, Karkerrie and Muga-wa-diga—each attended by hundreds of
warriors—having got there in advance of us. It was a stirring spectacle
to see these thousands of warriors gathered together in all their savage
glory, their bodies elaborately painted and oiled, and each man armed
with spear and shield, while their dress of skins added to their savage
appearance. The natives were for the most part standing about, but a few
of the older men were sitting down talking matters over, and our arrival
was greeted with shouting and singing. Such an event as this was, of
course, entirely new to them, nothing like it having ever taken place
before in the Kikuyu country, and as it was through my influence that it
had been brought about, I was naturally the centre of interest. I had
the Union Jack with me as usual, and as we advanced there was a lull in
the conversation, and all became quiet and expectant.
Noticing that some had already begun drinking njohi, I advised the
chiefs that it would be much better to leave the drinking until their
return to their homes, because, as all these natives had previously been
hostile to each other, and knowing the native character, I was afraid
that they would be getting drunk and starting to quarrel, which would
spoil everything. The chiefs readily fell in with my suggestion, and at
once put a stop to the drinking. At my suggestion also, all the weapons
were placed on the ground, the warriors depositing their swords and
spears in heaps, which four of my men were told off to guard.
When all the people were grouped round in a circle, with the chief
actors in the middle, I addressed them through an interpreter, and
explained the object of the gathering, telling them that they were met
together on friendly terms to make blood brotherhood with the chiefs of
the country, and that it was for this reason that they had been asked to
lay aside their weapons. While this was going on a fire had been
lighted, and a sheep was brought in and killed. Each chief supplemented
what I had said with some words to the same effect—the old witch doctor,
Muga-wa-diga, being the most loquacious, and taking full advantage of
the opportunity thus afforded him of indulging his vanity—and then the
chief orators of the tribes voiced their opinions in turn. During the
speech-making the chiefs and myself were grouped round the fire talking
together while the process of cooking certain parts of the sheep was
going on. The heart and liver were taken out and cut into little pieces,
which were then roasted separately on a skewer, carefully cut and shaved
clean before the meat was put on, the result being something like the
Oriental mutton kabobs.
When the cooking was finished the orators ceased talking, and all
attention was turned on us. Olomondo, the hunter chief, was the first to
take a prominent part in the ceremony. Taking one of his sharp arrows,
he made an incision in the flesh of each one who was to be joined in
blood brotherhood just above the heart. When this had been done the meat
was passed round, each one receiving a piece, which he first rubbed in
the blood from the wound made by the arrow, and then handed it to his
neighbour, who had already done the same with the meat he had received.
The meat was then eaten, and this went on until each one had eaten the
blood from each and all in turn. This completed the ceremony, and every
one turned to dancing and rejoicing, sheep and goats being killed and
roasted, and a big feast was held. In the excitement some of my men lost
their heads and started firing their rifles in the air, an incident
which nearly precipitated a fight, and threatened to undo all the good
that had been done. As soon as I heard the firing I rushed up, and at
once realized what had happened; but some of the natives thought there
was an intention of foul play and began hunting for their spears, and in
spite of my explanation things looked ugly, and it was some time before
all were reassured and things calmed down.
I advised the chiefs not to delay too long before returning to their
homes, as the temper of the people might change, in which case there
would probably be trouble. The natives get very excited when dancing,
and work themselves into hysterics, when they are not responsible for
what they may do. Among my own people I had put a stop to that sort of
thing by putting any man who showed signs of getting into that state
under restraint at once. Before taking these steps I had seen as many as
twenty men at one time all mad with excitement, first one and then
another going clean off his head. They would gradually work themselves
up into a perfect state of frenzy, until they trembled from head to
foot, and after jumping up and down would draw in their breath in great
gulps and suddenly grip their spears and run amok. The other natives
thought they were possessed of a devil,[14] and their method of treating
a man so affected was to bear him to the ground by sheer force, and then
half a dozen or more would sit on him. I found, however, that a little
salutary punishment very quickly cured them of that sort of thing.
-----
Footnote 14:
This devil, whom they called Ngoma, appeared to correspond more to the
Christian idea of the devil than is often the case with the deities of
savage tribes. The Kikuyu were monotheists, regarding Ngai as a
benevolent deity, from whom all benefits came, and to whom they
offered sacrifices and paid homage, with a view to favours to come;
while Ngoma, on the other hand, was a deity who brought only evil and
disaster upon them, and to whom they offered no sacrifices and paid no
homage, wherein they would appear to be a good deal more like
consistent Christians should be than the majority of the modern
professors of that faith, including a good many native clergy, who, in
spite of their orders and profession of Christianity, still practise
in secret the heathen rites and superstitions of their ancestors.
The Kikuyu are also firm believers in a future life, though possibly
from a somewhat materialistic point of view. Their belief is that
their “heaven” is situated under the earth, while the abode of Ngoma
is above it, and that when they die their spirit goes to the world
below, where they will lead a similar life to that which they have
left on earth, possessing the same herds of sheep, cattle, and goats
as they then had, and being joined again by their wives as they die.
-----
It was pretty late in the afternoon when we left the camp to return to
Wagombi’s, after seeing that all the others had started for their homes.
I prolonged my stay at Wagombi’s for some time, and continued to trade
in ivory, which, as I have said, I bought at a very cheap rate. I
happened to have the right sort of trade goods, and the natives were
very anxious to deal. I remember that they took a particular liking for
one special fancy cloth that I had, and there was quite a run on it. It
was a very gaudy material, in a variety of colours, and after they had
wrapped a piece loosely round them, they would run about like children,
being delighted to see it fluttering in the wind as it streamed behind
them like a huge blanket.
I was told that some natives living more down towards the coast had
quite a lot of ivory, and that the trade goods which I had still left
with me—chiefly iron and brass wire—would be very suitable for trading
with them. I also gathered that these people were living in the part of
the country where Gibbons’s safari had been cut up, and that if I went
there I would have to take every precaution, as I should probably find
them hostile. Wagombi agreed to provide me with guides and gave me all
the information in his power.
As I was anxious to see the country, and to get into touch with the
people with whom Gibbons fared so badly, I arranged to make the journey,
and proceeded to get my expedition together. Having buried the ivory I
had bought at Wagombi’s, as I had done that at Tato, when all was in
readiness I said goodbye to the friendly chief, and once again trekked
off to parts unknown.
The country was very much the same as that through which I had already
passed, being very hilly and thickly wooded, but the natives had heard
of my coming and had evidently no desire to meet me. They had deserted
all their villages, and I could not get into touch with them at all,
although at different times I got glimpses of some of them on the tops
of the hills, and though we shouted to them that we were friends, they
would not come near us. As their attitude was threatening, I came to the
conclusion that they were enemies of Wagombi, and each night when we
camped I took the precaution of erecting a boma, and would not allow any
man outside the camp unless it was absolutely necessary. The first
trouble came when the men went out to get water. We were camped on some
high ground at a considerable distance from the river, so I sent a good
guard with the party going for water, and as they were returning up the
hill I suddenly heard a lot of shouting. Taking some more of my men, I
rushed down to see what was happening, and found that the party was
being attacked by a big crowd of savages, who were shooting at them with
arrows. In this part of the country they use bows and arrows more than
spears, and I actually saw some women armed with these weapons and using
them as well as the men. Some of the savages had got up in the trees and
were firing on my men as they passed beneath, and before we managed to
clear them out and drive them away, one of my men had been killed and
another wounded by the arrows. Getting back to the camp, we found that
it was surrounded by another howling mob of niggers, and we had great
difficulty in fighting our way through and getting in. Once safely in
the camp, we turned and poured a steady fire into the mass. This
fusillade eventually drove them off, though several very ugly rushes
were made before they finally gave up the attempt to overpower us.
From the height on which the camp was pitched we could see dozens of
villages all round us, and it was very evident that the country was very
thickly populated; but feeling absolutely safe as long as we stuck
together, we were not alarmed at the hostile demonstrations on the part
of the natives, who still threatened us from a safe distance, so we
slept there that night, nothing happening to disturb our rest, but of
course a strict guard was kept.
The next morning the natives again gathered round us; but it was a very
half-hearted attack that they made this time, however, as they chiefly
contented themselves with shouting insulting remarks at us from a
distance, only now and then making a combined rush, which we easily beat
off. Not that my men did very much damage, as the native has no idea of
shooting straight, and it is very difficult to make them understand the
sights of a rifle. My men were all right up to a hundred yards, as I had
taught them always to aim low, whereas the native is apt to fire high;
while the ordinary native who has had no training with a gun is
absolutely useless, generally turning his head the other way when he
pulls the trigger.
The natives kept up their hostile attitude for some days, occasionally
creeping up and dropping arrows into the camp, while we waited,
expecting that they would either make friends or put forth a big effort
to wipe us out altogether. Our great difficulty was that food was
beginning to run short, our supply having been only a small one to start
with; so feeling that it was useless to hope to make friends with these
people, and that therefore nothing was to be gained by staying there, I
decided to trek back to Wagombi’s. Breaking camp, we started back, and
although the natives shouted at us from a safe distance, as usual, they
made no attempt to cut us off, so we got safely back to our old camp.
When Wagombi had heard my account of what had happened, he said that, if
I liked, he would muster his people and, as he expressively put it, “go
and clear up the whole country.” I thanked him, but declined his kind
offer, as I felt that it was taking on too big a job, and I was also
anxious to get back to my old quarters at Karuri’s, from which I had now
been away about six months. During the time I had been away I had heard
no definite news of what was going on there, but it was reported that we
were all killed, and that long ago they had given up all hope of seeing
us again.
When I declined Wagombi’s offer to make war on the tribe that had
attacked us, I told him that my idea was to get on friendly terms with
the natives without any shooting or anything of that sort, and after I
had explained this to him he was rather disappointed with me, and said,
“Why all this humbug? The country is yours. What’s the use of humbugging
about like a woman?” We had a lot of talk about it, and after a time he
gave in and seemed to be convinced, remarking that I was a white man and
must know better than he what was the best thing to do.
Olomondo, the hunter chief of the Wanderobo, was still staying at
Wagombi’s, but he and his people were getting restless, and wanted to
get back to their families. He was anxious that I should accompany him,
promising me plenty of ivory and hunting if I would go with him; so,
thinking the opportunity of making friends with his tribe, and at the
same time securing more ivory, was too good to be lost, I decided to
defer my return to headquarters until after I had paid him my promised
visit. I had left some good men in charge at Karuri’s, who would be
still buying food in my absence, and as I had taken a good supply into
the Government stations before I left, I had no fear that they would be
running short. I also took into consideration the fact that I was making
more money by ivory trading, and this partly influenced me in deciding
to accompany Olomondo. In addition to all these reasons I had a strong
desire to get more into the wilds and out amongst the game. I was not
feeling too well, as the strain of the past few months was beginning to
tell on me, and I felt that the change from the thickly-populated
district to the practically uninhabited country which was the
hunting-ground of the Wanderobo would be very welcome.
We had to take a lot of food with us, and every man had to carry a load,
as no flour was to be bought from the Wanderobo, who live entirely upon
flesh. I also got a few of Wagombi’s people to carry some flour and
other things that we should require, but they were to return home when
we had decided upon the site for our headquarter camp, as we should make
a food station there. Of course, I could have shot plenty of game, but
the Kikuyu would not eat it, being in most cases vegetarians.
Having got everything ready for the expedition and said a lot of
farewells—Wagombi being very sorry that I was leaving his part of the
country—we started off. The first part of our journey led through forest
country, and at the end of the first day’s march all signs of human
habitation had disappeared, and we camped that night at the edge of the
forest, while before us stretched a beautiful park-like country, open
plain with patches of forest here and there, which struck me as an ideal
district for farming. The change from the thickly populated Kikuyu
country and the absence of native villages was most refreshing, and I
slept very comfortably that night, with the thought of the prospect
before us, and awoke to a cool, fresh morning and a beautiful sunrise.
Going out of my tent, I revelled in the beauty of the scene spread out
before me, and once more experienced the exhilarating feeling of
gipsy-like freedom, the liberty to roam where I would at will, hunting
the wild game which could be seen in plenty from the door of my tent.
Watering the rich pasture-lands of the plain were numerous cool streams
coming down from the mountains, and flowing through the valley to form
the Guasa Nyero. All around were the virgin forests, while out on the
open plain were many most inviting spots for camping. The whole country
was free for us to go wherever we wished, without any fear of
interference. One felt that one was in a different world, and wondered
how any one who had experienced this sense of freedom from the trammels
of civilization could ever wish to go back to the crowded cities, or be
cooped up within the four walls of a house. At that moment of
exhilaration I certainly did not envy the civilized citizen at home.
After breakfast we set out again on the march, and continued until the
heat of the sun began to be oppressive, when we rested for lunch,
continuing our journey afterwards through further stretches of most
beautiful scenery. Three days’ march from Wagombi’s we came to the
village of the Wanderobo, who had been warned of our coming by
messengers sent on ahead of the caravan. They gave us a friendly
welcome, but it was evident that they were a very timid people, and I
was convinced that, had Olomondo not been with me, I should never have
come in contact with them, as they would certainly have kept out of my
way entirely. They seemed a bit scared at seeing so many of my
followers, but the chief assured them that there was no cause for alarm.
Their kraal was a very primitive affair, being simply a lean-to shed,
without the slightest attempt at privacy—all the married men and their
wives occupying one portion, and the young men and girls another—while I
found them the laziest and dirtiest people I had ever met. They will not
go out hunting until they are absolutely starving, and when they have
killed some big animal, they simply gorge themselves on it, sitting
round it, and never leave the spot until every scrap of the meat has
been devoured. I was to have an early example of this practice. I had
brought with me ten big bullocks, and, as these people had a fair amount
of ivory, they were able to buy the whole lot. To my surprise, no sooner
had they got the bullocks into their possession than they killed the
whole ten at once, and fires having been lighted, a circle of savages
gathered round each bullock, and, as it cooked, cut off huge strips of
the flesh and ate them, not moving away until each bullock had been
absolutely disposed of. A more disgusting spectacle I never witnessed.
They live entirely on meat, but have a drink which they make from the
wild honey. A remarkable thing in connexion with this honey is that they
are often shown where to find it by following a bird, which they call
the honey bird. One day, when out hunting, I noticed a small bird of a
brownish colour, not much larger than a sparrow, which was twittering on
a bush close at hand. Presently it flew towards me, twittering overhead,
and afterwards alighted on a tree, still twittering, and the Wanderobo
began to talk to it. I had heard of the honey bird before, but this was
the first time that I had seen one, and I was very much interested. The
natives continued to talk to it, and when it began to fly again, they
followed it as it went twittering along, keeping just a little in
advance of us, for perhaps a couple of miles, until we came to a hollow
tree, where it stopped, and the Wanderobo, saying that we should find
some honey there, began chopping the tree away until they found a
considerable store of wild honey. After taking the honey out, they gave
a certain quantity to the bird—or rather, left some in the tree for it,
as they said that if they did not do that, the bird would, on another
occasion, lead them on to a dangerous animal or a big snake. Of course
this was simply a piece of native superstition, which I satisfactorily
proved to have no truth in it, as I took the trouble to test it one day
when I had followed the honey bird, by taking every bit of the honey to
which it led me, without leaving any for the bird. After flying round
two or three times, it went twittering on again for another two or three
miles, and when it finally stopped, fluttering round a tree as before, I
found that it had simply led me to another store of honey; so I disposed
of one native belief.
The Wanderobo women were fairly well dressed—in skins—but the men wore
hardly any clothing at all. When necessity compels them to move they are
fairly good hunters, and will creep up to within ten yards of an
elephant, to spear it. The spear is fashioned something after the manner
of a harpoon, the head being fixed to the shaft in such a way that, on
striking the elephant, it becomes detached, and remains in the wound,
while the shaft falls to the ground. It would not, of course, be
sufficient to kill an elephant but for the fact that it is poisoned; and
even then the elephant will often travel a considerable distance before
succumbing to the poison. Singularly enough, the poison used appears
only to affect the part immediately in the neighbourhood of the wound,
and when this has been cut out, the natives eat the remainder of the
flesh with perfect safety. Of course, as I mentioned before, the
Wanderobo do not get the benefit of all the elephants they wound
fatally, as many of the wounded animals manage to wander too far away
into the forest to be tracked before they die, and any one finding them
gets the benefit of the ivory.
[Illustration: A DEAD RHINO]
The Wanderobo are very skilful with the bow and arrow, and can easily
send an arrow right through a buck at fifty yards’ range, while their
method of hunting these animals is distinctly novel. Taking a donkey,
they fix a pair of horns to its head, and having carefully marked it
with charcoal, to make it look as much like an ordinary buck as
possible, they then crawl up on the lee side of it until they get close
up to the game, which falls to an easy shot. The donkey seems to know
the business, and is a very clever decoy.
I learned during my stay that some of the Wanderobo had once mustered up
courage to attack some Swahili, whom they had murdered, some of the
tribe giving my men the details of their treachery; but, as a rule, they
were much too timid to engage in anything of the sort.
One peculiar point about these people was that they all seemed to have a
cast in the eye, which I was a good deal puzzled to account for. Whether
the meat diet on which they lived so exclusively had anything to do with
it, or whether it was owing to their dirty habits—and they certainly
were most abominably dirty—I cannot say; but the peculiarity seemed
almost universal in the tribe.
I made my camp at a good distance from the village, to escape the
unpleasant odour of the decaying meat which was left about, and to
escape the vermin, as their huts simply swarmed with fleas, and I well
remember the first time that this was brought to my notice. I had been
going through the village, and found my clothes covered with what I at
first took to be grass seeds; but what was my disgust to find, when I
attempted to brush them off with my hand, that I was literally alive
with fleas!
Like all the natives, the Wanderobo are very superstitious, and if, on
one of our hunting trips, we should happen to come across the carcass or
skull of an elephant, every one of them would spit on it, at the same
time plucking a handful of grass, and placing it on the animal’s head,
and saying “Ngai” as they did so. This they believed would bring them
luck in their hunting. They also were firm believers in the power of
human beings to make rain, and in this connexion I had a rather amusing
experience. Going down to the river one day for a bathe, I noticed some
quartz, which I thought was likely to carry gold; so, selecting some
pieces, I was pounding them up and washing them, to see if there really
was any gold in it, when, chancing to look up, I saw quite a number of
the Wanderobo, hidden in the bush, peering at me in a very curious
fashion. I paid little attention to the incident at the time, and after
my bathe went back to the camp, as usual. Some few days afterwards we
had a shower of rain, and Olomondo and some of the other natives came to
thank me for making it rain. I was, naturally, surprised, and said: “You
need not thank me; I know nothing about it”; but they said: “Oh, yes,
you do; you can’t deceive us, as we saw you making the rain the other
day, in the river.” It is just the same if you do anything which appears
to them to be out of the ordinary—they at once think that you are
“making magic.”
I had a splendid time hunting with these people, and nearly every day,
towards evening, I went out to shoot food for them, the country being
like a large zoo, simply full of every kind of African game you can
think of, including huge herds of zebra, giraffes, elephants, lions,
hartebeest, eland, waterbuck, and occasional herds of buffalo—enough, in
fact, to delight the heart of the most enthusiastic hunter. I shot
several elephants, besides innumerable smaller game, and two lions—which
animals the Wanderobo do not kill, since, as they cannot eat the meat,
they do not consider them worth the trouble of killing. During our
hunting together they killed some elephants, and it was agreed that when
an elephant was killed, they should take one tusk and I the other, and I
eventually used to get both by trading.
One of their methods of catching elephants and other animals was by the
use of pits, which were dug wedge-shaped, so that when the animal fell
in, it could not turn round or move, and therefore had no chance of
getting out again; while, in some cases, sharp stakes were placed, point
upward, at the bottom, with the object of impaling any animal that
should fall in. These pits were so cleverly concealed that one had to be
very careful not to fall into them oneself: the mouth being generally
covered with sticks laid crosswise, with dry grass on the top. They had
quite a lot of these pits, and caught a good deal of game by means of
them.
While out hunting one day, I heard shots fired at a distance, and
thinking it might be some white men, I sent some natives to find out,
and gave them a note to carry to the strangers. They came back saying
that they had seen two white men, and given them the note. As there was
no answer, my own idea was that my messengers had got close up to the
strangers, and then become afraid—possibly at the men themselves, but
most likely on account of the note, which they regarded as some kind of
fetish. I found out later that the strangers were two Germans, a Dr.
Kolb and a Lieutenant, who were out hunting. Dr. Kolb was afterwards
killed by a rhinoceros, and his grave, right away on the Guasa Nyero, is
marked by huge heaps of stones. I passed it on my trip to Abyssinia, at
a later period of my travels.
I stayed some months hunting with the Wanderobo, and so fascinating was
the wild, free life, that I could scarcely tear myself away from it;
while my followers, who shared the same feeling, had become so friendly
with the Wanderobo that some of them had fallen into the habit of eating
meat, a thing which they had never done before. This caused a lot of
chaff in the camp, and some of their comrades began to call them
Wanderobo, which is a term of contempt among the Kikuyu, as the word
means a man without anything, a wanderer without any possessions—which
fairly describes the tribe in question.
The incident of the note sent to Dr. Kolb was recalled to me some days
later, when Olomondo presented himself at my tent, and said that if I
would give him some “medicine,” he would give me some ivory; as he
believed that, if he got the medicine, it would enable him to kill more
elephants, while he himself would be safe from being killed. When I
asked him what sort of medicine he wanted, he said “the same as I had
sent to the white men.” I gathered from him that, before I sent the note
to them, they had had bad luck, but that afterwards they had killed a
lot of game: so I gave the chief a piece of paper, but he was not
satisfied until I had written something on it. Not knowing what to
write, I lapsed into rhyme (?), and Olomondo departed the proud
possessor of a poetical effusion, of which the following is a sample:—
“I am chief of the Wanderobo hunters.
Olomondo is my name,
Elephants I kill by the hundreds,
And thousands of smaller game.
I am up in the morning so early,
With my bow and arrows so sharp;
Over rivers I glide like a fairy,
Over mountains I fly like a lark.”
There were a number of verses in this strain, but this specimen will
suffice. Olomondo took the paper, and after wrapping it up carefully,
put it in a skin pouch, which he tied round his neck. I may say that it
must have been very good medicine, for after that Olomondo had much
better luck with his hunting than before—possibly he had so much faith
in its powers that he went about his hunting with greater confidence.
Later on, it so happened that a Government official got hold of this
production, and it created a lot of amusement. I don’t know how it came
about, but doubtless the chief met the official when out hunting, and
asked him for some medicine, at the same time showing him the paper. As
I had not been heard of for about twelve months at the Government
station, it was reported that I had been killed; but when they saw this
paper, the joke went round that I was not killed, but was living
somewhere around Mount Kenia, writing poetry for the savages.
At last I absolutely had to get away, as I had bought all the ivory the
natives had, and I was getting anxious to see how things were going on
in the Kikuyu country; so, after many goodbyes, and promising to come
back, I left my blood brother and his friends and started for Wagombi’s
country.
Arriving at Wagombi’s village without any special incident on the
journey, I received a very friendly welcome from the chief, and found
that nothing serious had happened in my absence, while the natives all
seemed to be on friendly terms. Having picked up the ivory I had buried,
I was soon on the march again for Tato, and it was quite a pleasure to
see my people and Wagombi’s all shaking hands like brothers instead of
flying at one another’s throats. This friendship was soon to be put to
the test, though we had as yet received no warning of the impending
trouble.
The same friendly feeling was shown when we arrived at Tato, and it was
difficult to believe that only a few months before one tribe was
fighting against the other and both were the bitter enemies of my
people. I had persuaded Wagombi to send a present of sheep to Karuri,
and got the chief Karkerrie, at Tato, to do the same, knowing that the
exchange of presents was the surest way to maintain a friendly
understanding between the different chiefs. Then, collecting the other
ivory we had buried there, we were soon on the march again.
Just after leaving Tato the rumour reached me that three Goanese had
been murdered and all their safari wiped out. I gathered that it was a
trading safari that had started out from Nairobi, headed by three
Goanese, who had with them about forty Kikuyu natives from among some
living near Nairobi. They had entered the Kikuyu country, and had been
well treated by the natives whom I had got under control, having a
really good time until they had entered the Chinga country. It will be
remembered that these were the only natives I had never really got into
touch with. We had passed through their country just after leaving
Karuri’s, and for the most part they kept out of my way. As I mentioned
previously, some of these people came into my camp, and I had intended
to make blood brotherhood—or rather Pigasangi—with them on my way back.
The Goanese, having had a good time at Karuri’s, had, perhaps, not
reckoned on the other natives being different, and consequently had not
taken proper precautions. They were well armed—about fifteen of the
natives carrying rifles, beside themselves—but in spite of this the
Chinga people had for some reason attacked them and murdered the whole
party. This was the disquieting rumour that reached me soon after
leaving Tato, though I must confess that I did not put much faith in it,
as so many similar rumours had been spread about myself having been
killed, and I had learned not to trust every report that I heard. I
thought, however, that the Goanese might be in some difficulty, and
perhaps had some of their men killed; so I hurried up to see if I could
give them any assistance; but the nearer I got to the scene of the
alleged massacre the more convincing were the statements of the natives
as to the truth of the stories which I had heard.
I did not call at Muga-wa-diga’s, as I had done on my outward journey,
but took a shorter route to Bartier’s, and when nearing his village did
a very foolish thing, which might easily have cost me my life, and,
indeed, probably would have done so, but for the extraordinary instinct
of my mule.
Being anxious to meet Bartier to get confirmation of the statements I
had heard from the natives, and as it was getting late in the afternoon,
I left my men and hurried on ahead. I had never done such a thing
before, but it must be remembered that I was carrying with me an immense
quantity of ivory—practically every man being fully loaded up with
it—and my anxiety about the Goanese had shaken me out of my usual
caution. Taking with me only one askari, my gunbearer, an interpreter,
and the boy who looked after my mule, I went on, telling the rest to
follow me as quickly as possible to Bartier’s. My men knew what had
happened, and I told them to be very careful; but still, being in a
friendly country, I thought that there could be no harm in pushing on
ahead by myself. The path ran between two hedges, which separated it on
either side from the cultivated patches of the natives. Suddenly, as I
galloped forward, all at once my mule showed a disinclination to proceed
along the path, and seemed to want to get off the road into the
cultivated patches. This curious behaviour would at any other time have
roused my suspicions, but though puzzled to account for the mule’s
peculiar conduct I did not attach any special reason to it; and, finding
that it would not go along the path, I let it have its own way, and
turned into the shamba, when it ran along without any further trouble. I
galloped along in the gardens for some distance, near the footpath, and
had not gone more than a mile when the mule, of its own accord, returned
to the road, and I arrived at Bartier’s without further incident about
five o’clock. The whole village was in a state of excitement, and I
quickly received confirmation of the murders, the natives being full of
it and appearing terribly afraid that the Chinga people would attack
them immediately because I was there. The Chinga people were their
neighbours, and the Goanese who had been murdered being, to the native
idea, white men, were said to be my brothers. Hitherto many of the
natives had believed that it was impossible to kill a white man, and
this idea had, to a great extent, kept me free from attack. But now they
said that they had killed my brothers, and were only waiting for an
opportunity to kill me as well.
Bartier and his people assured me that they were absolutely friendly to
me, and that I could rely upon them. It was the Chinga people, with the
natives from a part called Mahigga, together with some from a district
lying more to the east of us, under the control of my old enemy, the
chief rain-maker, who had joined their forces against the Goanese, and I
had no doubt that the rain-maker had had as much, and more, to do with
the matter than any one else. From what I could make out there must have
been some thousands of natives in the business, and they had completely
wiped out the traders’ safari and taken everything they possessed—trade
goods, some cattle they had with them, and everything that was worth
looting.
Whilst Bartier was explaining all this to me, two of the four men who
had started out with me ahead of the main body of my followers arrived
in the village. I had outdistanced them on my mule, and had been feeling
some anxiety for their safety. When I saw that there were only two of
them, I immediately inquired what had become of the others. It was
evident from the state of excitement they were in that something had
happened, and they at once told me that their two companions had been
killed. Their story confirmed the suspicion which had been growing in my
mind that an ambush had been set for me at the place where my mule had
refused to keep on the road, and it was no doubt due to the animal’s
instinct that I had not been killed myself, as my men had kept to the
road and so fallen into the ambush. They were going along, they said,
when a number of men rushed out on them, and before they knew what was
really happening two of their number had been killed. The two who had
escaped could only tell me that they had been attacked by a number of
Kikuyu on the war-path, who, rushing out on them, had speared the others
and then cleared off, while they had picked up the rifles of the
murdered men and come on to Bartier’s as fast as they could.
I saw that things were looking pretty bad, and quickly concluded that
the men in ambush were some of the party who had taken part in the
murder of the Goanese; but whether they were merely a scouting party,
spying out my movements, who had got a bit excited and started too
early, or whether they had planned to kill me and throw suspicion on
Bartier, I could only guess. Bartier assured me that it had not been
done by any of his people, and I was quite prepared to believe him,
being fully convinced in my own mind that it was the act of some of the
Chinga people.
As soon as I had gathered all the details from my two followers I asked
Bartier to send out a few of his people to meet my caravan coming along,
to tell them of what had happened, and to warn them to be very careful;
also, if the two men who had been ambushed were not dead, to bring them
in with them, and this he readily agreed to do. My men were not very far
behind, and the caravan shortly afterwards arrived, bringing with them
one of the men still alive. He had had two or three spears thrust right
through his back. He was not yet dead, and I did all I possibly could
for him, but he was past human help, and, after confirming the story
which the others had already told me, he died in an hour or two.
As soon as the caravan arrived we at once set to work to build a boma,
and I realized that I was now in about the tightest corner I had ever
been in. With all these men of the Goanese safari murdered, the country
was in a state of ferment, and thousands of armed men on the war-path
all round us, so that the prospect was not the most cheerful, and I
could see that I was in for a rough time, and how I was going to get out
of it I could not imagine. As I have already said, I had such an immense
amount of ivory that I could only just get along, and it was not likely
that I should be disposed to abandon it, after all the months of trouble
and worry it had cost me to collect—living entirely among savages, and
never seeing a white face for twelve months. At any rate, I meant to
make a good fight for it, and determined, if it were at all possible, to
win my way out, though I knew that these people, who had already dipped
their hands in the blood of my white brothers—as they imagined them to
be—would do their utmost to blot me out, if only for the sake of the
quantity of loot which they would get.
The next step to building the boma was to bury the ivory, and having
made this as secure as possible for the present, I cheered everybody up
by telling them that we should get through all right—that we had not
been travelling in the country for so long to be afraid now.
It was soon evident that information of our arrival had spread through
the hostile tribes, whose war-cries could be heard on every side, while
bands of warriors could be seen gathering all round us, and the whole
country was soon alive with armed natives, yelling their war-cries and
shouting what they would do to me when they got me. They looked upon the
Goanese, who wore European dress, as being the same as myself, and,
having had a comparatively easy victory over them, they confidently
expected to dispose of me without very much trouble, announcing that
they were fully determined to kill me as, they said, they had killed my
brothers. Some of the natives had dressed themselves in the clothes of
the ill-fated Goanese, and proudly paraded themselves in front of my
camp, while others were firing off the guns they had taken in the loot.
For the time being, however, they kept at a respectful distance, and we
went on strengthening our defences; but it made my blood boil when I saw
that they had cut off the heads of the murdered men and stuck them on
poles, which they were carrying about as trophies. I knew what my fate
would be if I were unlucky enough to fall into their clutches, while my
anxiety was increased by the fact that our stock of ammunition was
running very low, as we had been away from headquarters so many months
and hunting so much that we had used it nearly all up.
As far as I could learn, the Chinga people could muster about five
thousand fighting men, reckoning in the other tribes who were standing
in with them, and the only course open to me was to stand on the
defensive. Bartier promised to give me all the help he could, but I
could see that his people were terribly afraid, and I could quite
understand their feeling, as, if they befriended me, and it should so
happen that the Chinga people wiped me out, then they would be in for
it. Bartier did, however, give me all the information he could, and
assisted me as much as I could reasonably expect from him under the
circumstances. At the same time, I could see that he was badly
frightened, which, perhaps, was only natural, seeing that the other side
were so strong, and seemed quite determined to carry things on to the
bitter end. They had already commenced hostilities by murdering my two
men, and, fired by their success in wiping out the other safari, were
burning to get at me. Since the wholesale murder of the Goanese and
their followers they had been rejoicing and feasting and drinking a lot
of njohi, and now they were dancing about in paroxysms of mad fury, all
alike being possessed with the war fever and ready at any moment to
break loose upon us, while we could only wait their first move and take
every precaution we could think of.
We were camping right on the boundary of the two countries, and could
plainly hear them shouting, so I sent out some of Bartier’s men, with
some of my own, to scout, with orders to hang about in the bush and in
the shambas and try to find out what the plans of the enemy were. About
midnight news was brought in that a large force of natives was gathered
in one of the clearings about a mile from camp, where they usually held
their war-dances, and were drinking and feasting and discussing how they
should attack us. This threw all the people about us into a state of
panic, expecting every minute that the crowd assembling in the clearing
would be rushing down on us, though I knew that this would be a most
unusual thing for them to do, as savages very rarely rush a camp at
night, usually reserving their attack till dawn; still, having had such
success before, and having been drinking, I thought that there was a
reasonable possibility that they might depart from their usual rule on
this occasion. Of course, sleep was out of the question, and everybody
had to stand to arms. A large number of Bartier’s people were in my
camp, and every one was in a state of nervous expectancy. Eventually a
dead silence reigned, the effect of which, when surrounded by a host of
armed foes, I have endeavoured to describe before. I had experienced the
same feeling during the night we were surrounded by the natives at Tato.
The feeling of depression was almost unbearable, and was not lessened by
the loneliness of my position, out in the midst of a wild country, far
removed from any white man, waiting in momentary expectation of the rush
of a frenzied horde of yelling savages thirsting for the blood—and
loot—of the white man who had so far defied all attempts to blot him
out, and seemed only to gain fresh power in the country after every
attempt that was made against him. The situation was nerve-trying in the
extreme, and after an hour or so of waiting in this horrible silence I
wanted to shout in sheer desperation or do anything rather than endure
the inactivity any longer. I felt the responsibility for the safety of
the followers I had brought into this position and the risk of losing
the whole fruits of my twelve months’ trying experiences, and could not
sit still, but had to keep moving about. Even the movement did not serve
to relieve the tension, and I felt that if I did not do something
quickly I should be getting hysterical, so I quickly decided to put into
action an idea which had been gradually forming in my brain of giving my
friends the enemy a surprise, instead of waiting for them to try to give
me one.
I at once gave orders for big fires to be made up and for everything to
be done which would give the appearance of the camp being occupied by
the whole of my force, and then, leaving only a few men in charge of the
camp, I mustered the remainder and stole quietly out, my men being fully
armed, to pay a visit to the meeting in the clearing where the enemy
were said to be holding their consultation—my object being to teach them
such a lesson that they would hesitate to make war on me again. The
enemy had evidently never imagined that we should venture to attempt to
turn the tables on them in this manner, and in the darkness we managed
to creep right up to the edge of the clearing without being discovered,
as they had not thought it necessary to put any sentries out. Here we
found the warriors still drinking and feasting, sitting round their
fires so engrossed in their plans for my downfall that they entirely
failed to notice our approach; so, stealthily creeping up till we were
close behind them, we prepared to complete our surprise. The moment had
come to deal them a crushing blow. Not a sound had betrayed our advance,
and they were still quite ignorant of our presence almost in the midst
of them. The echoing crack of my rifle, which was to be the signal for
the general attack, was immediately drowned in the roar of the other
guns as my men poured in a volley which could not fail to be effective
at that short range, while accompanying the leaden missiles was a cloud
of arrows, poured in by that part of my force which was not armed with
rifles. The effect of this unexpected onslaught was electrical, the
savages starting up with yells of terror in a state of utter panic.
Being taken so completely by surprise, they could not at first realize
what had happened, and the place was for a few minutes a pandemonium of
howling niggers, who rushed about in the faint light of the camp fires,
jostling each other and stumbling over the bodies of those who had
fallen at the first volley, but quite unable to see who had attacked
them; while, before they had recovered from the first shock of surprise,
my men had reloaded, and again a shower of bullets and arrows carried
death into the seething, disorganized mass. This volley completed the
rout, and, without waiting a moment longer, the whole crowd rushed
pell-mell into the bush, not a savage remaining in the clearing that
could get away, and the victory was complete. For the time being we were
masters of the situation, only a number of still forms and a few wounded
being left of the thousands who had filled the clearing a little while
before, and we returned jubilant to our camp.
As may be imagined, our success was a great relief to me, and I reckoned
that I had taught them a lesson which would make them hesitate before
interfering with me again: so leaving my buried ivory, I started off the
next morning in an attempt to get through to my headquarters, feeling
sure that Karuri must, by this time, have heard of my position, and
would send out a force to meet me. Our advance was made with the utmost
caution: halting every few minutes to search with our eyes the scrub on
either side of the path for any signs of a lurking foe, and keeping our
guns ready to fire at the sight of an enemy, we went slowly on until we
entered the Chinga country. Skirting the edge of one of the hills, our
way led through a large patch of thick grass, some seven or eight feet
high—an ideal place for an ambush—and I felt that if we got safely
through this there was little else to fear. Step by step we proceeded,
going dead slow, and making scarcely a sound; but we had not gone far
before we instinctively felt that our enemies were hidden in the long
grass around us, and our suspicions were soon confirmed. A black form
was seen for a second, and instantly disappeared. Then shots were fired,
and spears and arrows began to whizz about our heads, and before we had
gone many yards farther, the grass around us became alive with savages.
Whenever one showed himself, we fired, and then suddenly, the grass
became animated on all sides, swayed and parted, and the horde of
yelling black demons was on us. We were fighting at close quarters, and
soon every man had his work cut out to defend himself. I was loading and
firing from the hip, as fast as I could throw out the empty shells and
shove fresh cartridges into the breech. It was a critical moment, and it
looked very much as though it was all up with us. So closely were we
being pressed that one of the savages had his spear poised over my head,
and the muzzle of my rifle was pressed against his body when I fired. My
first shot seemed to paralyse him, for while he had plenty of time to
plunge his spear into my body he failed to do so, and I had plumped two
or three bullets into him before he gave a jump into the air, and
toppled over dead. My followers were all equally hard pressed, and on
all sides was a writhing mass of black forms, all fighting like devils.
We were in a valley, closed in by rugged hills, and chancing to look up,
I saw that the top of the mountain above us was black with niggers, who
were evidently only waiting to see how those below fared before making a
final rush, which must have swamped us; so I immediately shouted to my
men to charge up the hill, thinking that if we waited much longer they
might suddenly decide to sweep down on us, when our last chance of
getting away would be gone. We had by this time stopped the rush of
those in the valley, and now, taking the offensive, we fought our way
through them up the mountain-side; but when the force on the top saw us
coming, they at once turned and bolted, rushing helter-skelter down the
other side of the hill. We had had a marvellous escape, and though we
had had several casualties, we had come out of the affair with much
smaller loss than might have been expected. I saw that it was useless to
try to get through to Karuri’s now, as we should have had to fight every
foot of the way, and had practically no chance of winning through; so we
returned to Bartier’s.
By this time the news had spread through the country, and Wagombi and
Karkerrie had heard of my trouble, and had sent some men to help me,
with a promise of more if I needed them. The whole country was thrown
into a state of excitement: the war fever was at its height: but my
blood brothers had rallied nobly to my help, and big forces of armed
warriors were coming in every hour from the different friendly chiefs to
support me, until I had a force of several thousands of the finest
fighting men in the country camped at Bartier’s.
I was considerably alarmed at the turn events had taken, especially as
the chiefs were determined to have it out, and threatened to clean up
the whole Chinga country: while the hostile natives had, in the
meantime, collected more followers, having received reinforcements from
some of the other tribes living to the east; so that I could see that it
was absolutely useless to try to make peace until they had had a tussle.
The people who had come to help me were also red-hot for war, and scenes
of the wildest enthusiasm prevailed in the camp of my force. Giving way
to their savage nature, they danced themselves into the wildest passion,
numbers of them going into hysterical fits, and jabbing their spears
into the tree-trunks in imitation of killing their enemies, while their
breath sobbed out in great gulps. It was a remarkable outburst of
savage, uncontrolled passion, which I was helpless to check.
When the time for action came, this army of warriors swept through the
Chinga country from one end to the other, destroying the villages, and
wiping out of existence all who opposed them. It was some time before
peace could be restored, and when that time came the Chinga people, as a
force to be reckoned with in the country, had ceased to exist.