VISIT TO SA’ADANI, THE COPAL FIELD.
Non cuivis lectori auditorique placebo:
Lector et auditor non mihi quisque placet.
A heroic treatment of quinine, beginning with 20-grain doses, and ending
with two grains, per diem, and a long course of stomachic chiretta—the
Kirait which the Goanese drink, flavoured with lime juice, every Sunday
before church—induced a convalescence, accompanied by the usual
unpleasant sequelæ. The S. West or rainy monsoon, which came in like a
lion, had improved my health, but it detained the Expedition at
Zanzibar. We utilized the delay by buying outfit, which for economy must
be provided before the opening of the trading season; by making
arrangements for an escort, and by looking to the hundred impedimenta
which appertain to African exploration.
Yet I was possessed by a nervous impatience to be up and doing. During
the year of grace 1867 it was proposed to penetrate into the Eastern and
Central Regions from all directions. The Escayrac de Lauture enterprise
has been already mentioned. Zanzibar also expected an American
Expedition. A Major Cotheal, of New York, had visited the coast in his
own vessel, with the view of pushing into the interior. Like his many
predecessors—Captain Smee for instance—he failed to find the debouchure
of the Denok, Vumbo, Gob, Gob-wen, Juba, Webbe Ganana, Govind, Dos
Fuegos or Rogues[45] River, which forms the true northern limit of
continental Zanzibar, dividing inland the Galla from the Somal, and
which the hydrographers have placed in S. lat. 0° 14′ 30″, thus nearly
corresponding parallel with the Gaboon. But he had observed a
discolouration of the sea, which raised his hopes of being able to
measure and survey the mysterious outlet. Despite the labours of Lieut.
Christopher, there is still an abundance of work to be done about the
embouchures and more upon the upper courses of the ‘Nile of Makdishu’
(Webbe Gamana) and the Juba (Webbe Ganana); whilst the sad loss of Baron
von der Decken only increases our curiosity about the latter stream. It
is doubtful, even in the present day, whether the mouth of the Juba is
dry in the rainless season or not. Major Cotheal’s prospects were kept
dark: it was, however, understood that the party would be composed of
white men accustomed to endure fatigue and to face danger, escorted by
free blacks from the United States, and by natives of the country as
guides and porters. All scientific researches and even exact
observations were to be postponed, lest they should impede progress:
this manner of exploration, which would find scant favour in English
eyes, is evidently best fitted to open a way for the physicist through
unexplored and possibly dangerous regions. I never doubted that the
Anglo-American, familiar with the negro race from his infancy, and
strong in nervous temperament, carrying little flesh and comparatively
abstemious, would be the best of African explorers, and my subsequent
experiences on the west coast of Africa in the Bights of Benin and
Biafra, from Cape Palmas to the Gaboon river, have confirmed the belief.
Major Cotheal’s exploration, however, was fated to remain in limbo.
An expedition was also proposed at the Cape of Good Hope on a plan
recommended by the lamented naturalist, Professor Wahlberg. Several
waggons starting simultaneously would separate upon the threshold of the
tropics, and, after exploring eastward and westward, would rendezvous at
a given place, and confer upon the ways and means of further advance.
Nothing appeared more feasible than such a prospect, and the brilliant
success of Messrs Livingstone, Murray, and Oswell, then fresh in the
public mind, had proved that intertropical Africa could be penetrated
with less fatigue and risk of disease from the Cape than from any other
point. Dr Wahlberg, however, was killed by an elephant, and his plan was
allowed to lie in nubibus.
We left for the interior before Zanzibar Island was visited by the Père
Léon d’Avanchers, whose name has since become familiar to geographers:
en revauche I met M. Gabrielli de Rivalta, a capuchin of the Lyons
Mission, who was proceeding to his head-quarters, the before
inaccessible Kaffa country. He had lately learned at Rome that four or
five other missioners would be sent to reap the unparalleled harvest
reported by Monsignor Guglielmo Massaga, the Vicario Apostolico dei
Gallas, who had made that place his home, and who had sent branch
establishments to Enarea and Goodroo. Some 40,000 pagans had, it was
asserted, embraced Christianity, and conversions were still taking place
in legions. Unable to enter Africa viâ Masawah, on account of the
religious excitement that burned high amongst the Abyssinians, Father
Gabrielli resolved to land at Makdishu, and to march upon Ganana,
travelling alone and unarmed, amongst the fiercest tribes of East
Africa, the Gallas, and the Somal. The successes which have crowned the
efforts of Catholic missioners in these eastern regions reflect honour
upon their system, and cast a deep shade upon the desultory
individualistic display of Protestant energy. On the West Coast of
Africa, however, I found that both had equally and completely failed.
At length, strength and energy returning, I resolved once more to visit
the coast, and to collect information upon certain interesting subjects,
concerning which the Secretary of the Bombay Geographical Society had
(Dec. 8, 1856) forwarded to Government the following remarks:—
‘It will be eminently interesting to know whether the great limestone
formation, extending in one vast continuous band from the banks of the
Burrumputra to those of the Tagus, and from which Captain Burton
forwarded valuable specimens from the Somali country, prevails as far
south as the Line, and to what distance it extends into the interior. It
will be desirable to ascertain whether the upheaved sea-beach, such as
that which forms the esplanade, and is the favourite habitat of the
cocoa-nut groves around, prevails along the shores of Africa, and
whether, if so, it manifests those signs of a double depression or
upheaval which characterize it in most parts of the world.... Of the
£300,000 worth of commerce between Eastern Africa and Western India—the
principal part being that of Zanzibar—gums and resin-trees form an
important part, nearly £20,000 worth being exported from Zanzibar. The
most valuable of these are copal and gum Animi, the principal supplies
being found under-ground, from which they are washed out by streams and
torrents. Like the Dammer of Singapore, and some of the most important
gum resins of Australia, they may be regarded as semi-fossils, the
produce of forests which have long since disappeared.... We should like
to know whether the _Valeria Indica_, which produces it, still abounds
as a tree; as also what may have been the extent, what the position and
circumstances of the extinct forests, of which it now constitutes the
principal trace.... Copal has of late years become so scarce, so much in
demand, and so dear, that what was formerly thrown away would probably
be considered of value in the market; and there are few of the
investigations a traveller can undertake the people of England value so
highly as those that can be turned to commercial account. Materially to
reduce the price of coach-varnish would probably be considered to
entitle Captain Burton to a larger share of the gratitude of his
countrymen than the measurement of the elevation of the Mountains of the
Moon or the Determination of the Sources of the Nile.’[46]
On May 11, accompanied by Sidi Bombay and by Said bin Salim, with his by
no means merry men, I set out in the ‘Mtope’ (the Mud), a small Machua
manned by the slaves of Mr Banyan Ramji. Running before a fair wind, and
‘rushed’ by an occasional raffale, we crossed in five hours the Manche
that separates Zanzibar from Sa’adani, a trading port on the Continent,
nearly parallel with the northern cape of the Island. The settlement is
not seen till within the shortest distance, when the mangroves disclose
it. The landing-place is bad; if the water is out small craft must lie
about half-a-mile from the shore; at flood-tide they round a small
sandspit, and enter the shallow, rushy Khor (bay), which passes the
settlement. Passengers then disembark in canoes. The site of the village
is frontier-land: to the north are the Wazegura savages, and southward,
behind ‘Utondwe,’ lie the Wadoe, who are reported by all to have learned
cannibalism during their wars with the Wakamba.[47] I should say ‘lay’:
these Wadoe have of late years been driven away from their ancient seats
by the Wamasai, and like the Waboni, they have occupied the lands on the
north bank of the Adi or Sabaki river. The Wakamba, again, have been
expelled, and the Wazeramo, a fierce and unmanageable tribe, has now
transferred itself to the interior. The point or headland bounding the
bay southwards, and giving a name to the little maritime province whose
southern limit is Whinde (Uende of M. Rebmann), is still known as
Utondwe, and is said to show ruins of habitations. Thus Watondwi, which
Mr Cooley translates ‘picking-grounds,’ i. e. places where shell-fish
are gathered, would mean the people of Utondwe. Nothing can be more
misleading than such expressions as ‘the kingdom of Atondo,’ used by Do
Couto and others. These royalties are mere districts ruled by petty
headmen, of which each port-village has one, potent within their own
bounds or palisades, but powerless a mile beyond them. They correspond
with the River Kings and Hill Kings of Guinea, the ridiculous King Jacks
and King Boys of the Western Coast—both degraded by intercourse with
superior races, these with Europeans, those with the Arabs. ‘Otondo’ is
mentioned in the Portuguese inscription over the fort gate of Mombasah;
and in 1528 its Shaykh came to the assistance of Nuno da Cunha with five
or six thousand black archers, probably slaves and savages, who are
described as very agile and trained to war.
Sa’adani stands upon a swampy green flat, defended, as are most of these
places, against the sea, which is apparently but little below its level,
by a high sandbank and natural dykes. From Panga-ni, southward, the
littoral suddenly falls flat, becoming an alluvial plain of green
swamps, cut by hundreds of mangrove creeks: it is backed by higher
ground, the blue line seen from Zanzibar Island, and the habitat of the
wilder races. The harbours are mostly open roads or inlets, into which
only native craft can run, whilst square-rigged ships must lie three
miles in the offing, and much exposed. The deeper water abounds in fish,
and the tides retire 12 to 13 feet, leaving a broad expanse of naked
mud. Constant troubles with neighbours have caused this port-village to
be surrounded by a strong stockade of tree-trunks, and have greatly
reduced its extent. The hundred huts of thatch, wattle and dab, may now
contain 700 to 800 souls, including a Banyan, a Kasimi Arab, and a stray
Baloch: a few years ago it could turn out 300 matchlocks. The two stone
mosques, which the people declare to be ancient, are in ruins. Here the
Wasawahili, who in a thin fringe line the whole coast, appear to be
healthier than on the Island of Zanzibar. As usual, there is less rain,
and the little Msika is often wanting. They send at all seasons foot
caravans to Nguru—the Ngu of M. Rebmann—a hilly region seven to eight
days’ march, nearly due west. The normal ventures are beads, cloth, and
wires, and the returns are ivory and slaves, with smaller items, such as
rhinoceros’ horn and various hides. The trading parties are absent about
six weeks, when no news of them will be held good news: formerly the
wild Wanguru used to visit the coast, till deterred by Moslem ‘Avanies.’
The village exports sheep and ghi, holcus, maize, and especially copal.
A little cotton (pamba) for domestic use is grown on the sandy landward
slope of the natural dyke, about one mile from the sea: the shrub is
allowed to run to wood. A few words upon cotton-growing in Zanzibar and
East Africa generally may not be misplaced here.
The mountains of Harar, that ancient capital of the Adel Empire, are a
granitic mass covered with red argillaceous soil: they produce in plenty
a fine, long-stapled, firm and heavy cotton, with peculiarly flexible
and tenacious filament. Yarn is hand-spun by the women with two wooden
bobbins, and the primitive loom is worked by both sexes: the result is a
cloth, warm and soft as silk, which surpasses in beauty and durability
the vapid produce of our power-looms, as much as the perfect hand of man
excels the finest machinery. The ‘Tobe’ of Harar consists of a double
length of 11 × 2 cubits, with a bright scarlet border, and the value of
a good article even in the city is $8. The laziness of the people and
the risks of the journey, 15 days of wild travel to the coast, prevent
any exportation of made cloth, and years must elapse before the
obstacles are removed.
The coast of Eastern Intertropical Africa produces everywhere, as far as
my wanderings extended, a small quantity of cotton now used only for
domestic purposes. The rich ochreous clays and the black earths fat with
decayed vegetation, cause the neglected shrub to grow luxuriantly. The
mountains of Usumbara north of the Panga-ni river are peculiarly fitted
by climate and geological formation for growing the shrub. I afterwards
found it in Unyamwezi planted here and there amongst the huts, and in N.
lat. 4° Capt. Grant observed the Gossypium punctatum, a perennial whose
produce was woven into women’s aprons. There is no reason to despair of
producing in East Africa a cotton which might rival the celebrated
growths of Algeria and Egypt; at present, however, as Dr Livingstone’s
second Expedition proved, the conditions of export are far inferior to
those of Abeokuta and of Accra a whole generation ago.
Said bin Salim having formerly been Governor of Sa’adani, we were
received by the crowd with all the honours. The Chief Bori was absent,
visiting Kipombui, a village lying a few miles north: he was preparing
to fight one Abdullah Mákitá, a Msegeju chief living near Tanga, and his
intimate relations with Muigni Khatib of Usumbara would allow him free
passage along the coast. He is famed through all the country-side for a
mighty soul contained in a little body, and for a princely generosity
which fills his house with hungry feeders. At present he is on bad terms
with his brother Mohammed, Chief of Urumwi, a settlement three hours to
the south, and the latter lately burned down Sa’adani. Here when a Diwan
is poor he has only to attack a wealthy neighbour, drive off a hundred
head of slaves, and send to market those not wanted as home-hands—this
eternal state of feud of course greatly demoralizes the people.
One of Bori’s many cousins led us to the ‘Government House,’ which was
surrounded with a wall of stone and lime: he found lodgings for us in a
large hut and a broad verandah; after some delay we were fed with dates
and coffee, with rice and cream pressed from pounded cocoa-nut meat, and
with fowls and mutton, the victim being a dun-coloured sheep with a long
fat tail, very unlike the Somali breed. In the evening there was a Ngoma
Khu, the normal dance of honour, preluded by the loud singing of the
women inside the house, and by the warning sound of three drums. The
corps de ballet, a dozen strong, young and old, then defiled before us.
Their heads were clean shaven, or half grown, or covered with short
stiff curls intensely black and forming the least grotesque of African
coiffures: the dress was an indigo-dyed stuff with large red stripes and
border extending to the feet, and round the bosom a white cloth or some
coloured cotton contrasted with the blue. Presently the ballerinas
formed line and divided into two parties, facing inwards; the
performance consisted of trampling and twirling with heads inclined on
one side, and eyes modestly fixed upon the ground, whilst palms were
kneaded as if washing
‘—with invisible soap,
In imperceptible water.’
A passing sail drew off all the spectators as though they had been
Cornish wreckers in the olden times, who had successfully fastened their
lantern to a bullock’s horns. The most interesting of the crowd were the
sylvan men in skin aprons stained with Mimosa-bark: their widely opened
mouths proved that curiosity was reciprocal. Some of the younger girls
had the beauty of negrodom, and none appeared to be bégueules: here the
people pass all the time not given to trade in love-making and intrigue.
As in the Bombay of 1857, damages have been made cheap and feasible for
the co-respondent: an affair with a Diwan’s wife costs five slaves, with
a ‘common person’ one slave, with the chattel of another man five to six
cloths, and so on.
The day after our arrival was a forced halt, the copal-diggers had set
out in another direction before dawn, and no donkey-saddle was to be
found: the next, however, was more propitious. Led by Mánji, the
Akida’ao, Mtu-Mkuba, Mukaddam, or headman of the gang, we walked west
over an alluvial plain of blue earth, veiled with white sand, a narrow
path, threading the dwarf plantations of maize and manioc, of cucumber,
pulse (Lobiya), and the castor plant growing everywhere wild. Crossing,
after some 200 yards, a sandy Nullah, which supplies sweet water, we
came to a rank and reeking, a thorny and cloth-tearing vegetation, and
to thick, coarse spear-grass, burned down in the dry weather: this is
the home of the spur-fowl, the Kudu, and other antelopes. Three miles
(by pedometer) of damp trudging, a shower having fallen last night,
placed us before the first Msandarúsi,[48] or copal tree (Hymenœa
verrucosa. Boivin). It was growing in a thicket upon a flat covered with
Mimosas, Hyphœnas, and various palms, the cocoa being absent. The
specimen, though young, was some 30 feet tall, and measured about a yard
in girth: it was not in flower nor in fruit; the latter, according to
the people, is a berry like a grain of Muhindi (maize). Climbing up the
straight, smooth trunk to secure specimens of wood, bark, and leaf, I
was pitilessly assaulted by the Maji-Moto (boiling water), a long
ginger-coloured and semi-transparent ant, whose every bite drew blood.
From the trunk and on the ground I picked up specimens of the gum which
exudes from the bole and boughs when injured by elephants, or other
causes. This is the Chakazi, raw copal, whence the local ‘Jackass
copal:’ it has rarely any ‘gooseskin,’ and it floats, whilst the older
formation sinks, in water. Valueless to us, it produces the magnificent
varnishes of China and Japan. In a paper lately read before the Linnæan
Society, my friend Dr Kirk, H. B. M.’s Acting Consul at Zanzibar,
declared that the fossil resin when first dug up shows no trace of the
characteristic ‘goose-skin,’ which appears only when the surface is
cleaned by brushing. I believe that this phenomenon is shown simply by
removing the sand which fills up the interstices. But it is hard to make
anything of Captain Grant’s statement—‘the true copal-gum tree is a
climber, which ascends to a great height among the forest trees, and
finally becomes completely detached from the original root, when the
copal exudes from the extremities of these detached roots.’ He must
allude, not to the well-known Msandarúsi (mentioned by M. Guillain, i.
24, ‘le M’sandarouss est un bois dur et résineux, qui donne aussi des
pièces de mâture’), but to some other and unknown genus.
A fourth mile of gradual rise brought us to a distinctly-defined
sea-beach, swelling about 100 feet above water, and dimly showing
Zanzibar Island to the S. East. The material was sand with a slight
admixture of vegetable humus: the ridge top was crowned with luxuriant
thicket, and a fine of water-washed quartz pebbles defined the flank. I
afterwards found the same at Muhonyera in valley of the Kinga-ni river,
where the pebbles strewed the northern slope of the hillock upon which
we were encamped. Captain Speke (Journal, &c., chap. ii.) inspected it
on his second journey at the desire of the Royal Geographical Society,
to see if it gave indications of a ‘raised sea-beach,’ and came to the
conclusion that ‘no mind but one prone to discovering sea-beaches in the
most unlikely places could have supposed for a moment that one existed
here.’ But did he know what a raised sea-beach was, even had he seen it?
He adds, ‘there are no pebbles;’ my only reply is that I picked up
specimens, and I find in my Field Book, now deposited with the Royal
Geographical Society, ‘Muhonyera’ ... ‘elevated, sea-beach, lines of
pink, quartzose rounded pebbles.’
On this beach, as on the flat below, were frequent traces of manual
labour: the tree, however, is not common,—only two appeared, within half
a mile. Mánji proceeded to show me the digging process, which was of the
simplest: he crowed a hole with a sharpened stick in the loose sand, and
disclosed several bits of the bitumenized and semi-mineral gum. One of
the slaves sank a pit about three feet deep: the earth became redder as
he descended, crimson fibrous matter appeared, and presently the ground
seemed to be half sand, half comminuted copal. There was neither blue
clay nor tree-roots as in Zanzibar Island, nor did I find this formation
in any of the wells or excavations examined upon the coast. According to
the guide, the only subsoil is this ruddy arenaceous matter: his people,
however, never dig lower than a man’s waist. They use the Jembe, or
little iron hoe, and when ‘grist for the mill’ is wanted they form small
gangs, who proceed to the ‘jungle’ for two or three days, carrying with
them the necessaries of life.
The whole of this Zangian coast produces the copal of commerce:
specimens have been brought to Zanzibar from the northern limits of
Makdishu and Brava to Kilwa and Cape Delgado—by rough computation 800
miles. It extends, here three hours’ march, there two to three days,
into the interior. On the mainland it costs half-price of what is paid
upon the Island, and the indolent Wasawahili of the villages cannot be
induced to dig whilst a handful of grain remains in the bin. I found it
impossible to ‘trace the position and circumstances of the extinct
forests, of which copal constitutes the principal remains:’ such an
investigation would have entailed at least two months’ voyaging along,
and dwelling upon, the fever-haunted seaboard.
I was also obliged to leave to the late secretary of the Bombay
Geographical Society the task of remedying the host of evils that at
present beset copal-digging. The first is the Commercial treaty of 1839,
by whose tenth article H. H. the Sayyid engages ‘not to permit the
establishment of any monopoly or exclusive privilege of sale within his
dominions, except in the articles of ivory and gum copal on that part of
the East Coast of Africa, from the port of Tangate, situated in about 5½
degrees of S. latitude, to the port of Quiloa, lying in about 7 degrees
south of the equator.’ The U. S. Commercial treaty of 1833 contains no
such clause, but the French treaty, concluded in 1844, thus modifies
(Art. xi.) the prohibition to traffic which appears in the English
treaty. ‘But if the English or Americans or any other Christian nation
should carry goods, the French shall in like manner be at liberty to do
so.’ With the Arabs such matters are easily managed for the benefit of
both parties: when, however, European jealousies complicate the affair
there is little hope of their being brought to a successful issue.
Moreover, Europeans cannot do manual labour upon the Zanzibarian
seaboard. Hindustanis would fear to face, not only the fever, but the
savage. A gang of 500 negroes from Kilwa or Arabs from Hazramaut taught
to use moderate-sized mattocks, not the child’s plaything now in
fashion, well paid and kept at regular work, would soon, by their own
exertions and by example, stimulate the copal digging into liveliness or
break up the unnatural monopoly. But the Sayyid’s government would
object to such occupation of its territory; the Wasawahili Diwans would
require propitiation; and in view of desertion, it would be necessary to
make specific contracts with the chiefs of tribes, villages, and
harbours. It is to be feared that such an operation would not pay,
commercially speaking, though every hand might produce, as it has been
calculated he can, 12 to 15 lbs. per diem. Willingly, therefore, as I
would have won that highest of meeds, the gratitude of my
fellow-countrymen by reducing the price of coach-varnish, I had fairly
to confess that it was beyond my powers. The sole remedy is Time—perhaps
an occasional East African expedition might be adhibited to advantage.
As regards the limestone band, of which I had forwarded specimens from
the Somali country, no traces were found till after leaving the modern
corallines and sandstones of the coast which possibly overlie it. Our
march to the Usagara mountains (5000 feet high) was more fortunate: a
fossil bulimus was picked up in the Western counterslope of those
Eastern Ghauts, about 3200 feet above sea-level, and calcareous nodules
of weather-worn ‘Kunker’ were remarked in more than one place. Captain
Speke (Journal, chap. ii.) afterwards saw at Kidunda of Uzaramo on the
left of the Kingani valley ‘pisolithic limestone in which marine fossils
were observable.’
Nothing of interest now remained for me at Sa’adani. Before earliest
dawn, when Venus hung like a lamp between dark sky and darker earth, and
before the lovely flush of morning had lit up the Eastern sea, we
embarked, and enjoyed a lively sail. Whilst the mainland was clear, the
Island of Zanzibar had hid itself in a mass of dark dense cloud, and
presently it sent to meet us heavy leaden-coloured rain apparently solid
as a stone wall. We had sundry gusts and dead calms, till at last a
light breeze wafted us once more into port.
-----
Footnote 45:
Denok is the Galla name of the stream, probably from Danesha, a
townlet or encampment on the right bank of the stream, some three
miles from the sea. Vumbo is the Kisawahili term. The Somal call it
Gob, ‘the junction’ (hence the Juba of the Arabs, who cannot pronounce
the letter G), and Gob-wen, ‘the great junction,’ a name also given to
the settlement Danesha: hence the Hinduized form Govind. Webbe (river)
Ganana (bifurcation) is derived from a village high up the stream. The
Portuguese called it Rio dos Fuegos from the number of fires, probably
of fishermen: the English, ‘Rogues River,’ a term which might be
applied to all the streams on this coast.
Footnote 46:
I have reprinted the rest of the paper in my preface to a Memoir on
the Lake Regions of Central Equatorial Africa.—Journal Royal
Geographical Society, xx. 1860.
Footnote 47:
It has been remarked by Dr Beke (Transactions of the Royal
Geographical Society, vol. xvii. p. 74), that hereabouts is the
position assigned by Ptolemy to his Anthropophagi, living around the
Barbaric Gulf, and by El Mas’udi to the men-eating Zenj—a curious
coincidence. I am convinced that all the negro tribes now settled upon
the East and West coasts of Intertropical Africa have migrated, or
rather have gravitated, from the interior within a few centuries, and
that the process is still in active operation. Whatever the Wamakua
Menschen-fresser may have been, the Wadoe seem to have adopted
cannibalism of late years, in terrorem. So Tarik, the Arab invader of
Spain, when fighting his way between Bœtis and the Tagus, ordered his
men to cook (but not to eat) the flesh of slain Christians.
Footnote 48:
From the Arab Sandarus, which their pharmacopœia applies to the
transparent resin Sandaraca or Sandarach. Our copal is a corruption of
the Mexican Kopali—any gum. It is called anime or animi in the London
market, and by the workman French varnish. The copals of Mexico, of
New Zealand (popularly termed Cowace copal), and of the West African
coast, are inferior kinds. The ‘Damar,’ or gum found about Cape
Delgado, floats in water, and may be unripe copal washed out by the
wet season.