Now, one day we left the Isiola River and cut across on a long upward
slant to the left. In a very short time we had left the plains, and were
adrift in an ocean of brown grass that concealed all but the bobbing
loads atop the safari, and over which we could only see when mounted. It
was glorious feed, apparently, but it contained very few animals for all
that. An animal could without doubt wax fat and sleek therein: but only
to furnish light and salutary meals to beasts of prey. Long grass makes
easy stalking. We saw a few ostriches, some giraffe, and three or
four singly adventurous oryx. The ripening grasses were softer than a
rippling field grain; and even more beautiful in their umber and browns.
Although apparently we travelled a level, nevertheless in the extreme
distance the plains of our hunting were dropping below, and the far off
mountains were slowly rising above the horizon. On the other side were
two very green hills, looking nearly straight up and down, and through a
cleft the splintered snow-clad summit of Mt. Kenia.
At length this gentle foothill slope broke over into rougher country.
Then, in the pass, we came upon many parallel beaten paths, wider and
straighter than the game trails-native tracks. That night we camped in
a small, round valley under some glorious trees, with green grass around
us; a refreshing contrast after the desert brown. In the distance ahead
stood a big hill, and at its base we could make out amid the tree-green,
the straight slim smoke of many fires and the threads of many roads.
We began our next morning's march early, and we dropped over the hill
into a wide, cultivated valley. Fields of grain, mostly rape, were
planted irregularly among big scattered trees. The morning air, warming
under the sun, was as yet still, and carried sound well. The cooing,
chattering and calling of thousands of birds mingled with shouts and the
clapping together of pieces of wood. As we came closer we saw that every
so often scaffolds had been erected overlooking the grain, and on these
scaffolds naked boys danced and yelled and worked clappers to scare the
birds from the crops. They seemed to put a great deal of rigour into the
job; whether from natural enthusiasm or efficient direful supervision I
could not say. Certainly they must have worked in watches, however; no
human being could keep up that row continuously for a single day, let
alone the whole season of ripening grain. As we passed they fell silent
and stared their fill.
On the banks of a boggy little stream that we had to flounder across we
came on a gentleman and lady travelling. They were a tall, well formed
pair, mahogany in colour, with the open, pleasant expression of most of
these jungle peoples. The man wore a string around his waist into which
was thrust a small leafy branch; the woman had on a beautiful skirt made
by halving a banana leaf, using the stem as belt, and letting the leaf
part hang down as a skirt. Shortly after meeting these people we turned
sharp to the right on a well beaten road.
For nearly two weeks we were to follow this road, so it may be as well
to get an idea of it. Its course was a segment of about a sixth of the
circle of Kenia's foothills. With Kenia itself as a centre, this road
swung among the lower elevations about the base of that great mountain.
Its course was mainly down and up hundreds of the canyons radiating from
the main peak, and over the ridges between them. No sooner were we down,
than we had to climb up; and no sooner were we up, than once more down
we had to plunge. At times, however, we crossed considerable plateaus.
Most of this country was dense jungle, so dense that we could not see
on either side more than fifteen or twenty feet. Occasionally, atop the
ridges, however, we would come upon small open parks. In these jungles
live millions of human beings.
At once, as soon as we had turned into the main road, we began to meet
people. In the grain fields of the valley we saw only the elevated boys,
and a few men engaged in weaving a little house perched on stilts. We
came across some of these little houses all completed, with conical
roofs. They were evidently used for granaries. As we mounted the slope
on the other side, however, the trees closed in, and we found ourselves
marching down the narrow aisle of the jungle itself.
It was a dense and beautiful jungle, with very tall trees and the
deepest shade; and the impenetrable tangle to the edge of the track.
Among the trees were the broad leaves of bananas and palms, the fling
of leafy vines. Over the track these leaned, so that we rode through
splashing and mottling shade. Nothing could have seemed wilder than
this apparently impenetrable and yet we had ridden but a short distance
before we realized that we were in fact passing through cultivated land.
It was, again, only a difference in terms. Native cultivation in this
district rarely consists of clearing land and planting crops in due
order, but in leaving the forest proper as it is, and in planting
foodstuffs haphazard wherever a tiny space can be made for even three
hills of corn or a single banana. Thus they add to rather than subtract
from the typical density of the jungle. At first, we found, it took some
practice to tell a farm when we saw it.
From the track narrow little paths wound immediately out of sight.
Sometimes we saw a wisp of smoke rising above the undergrowth and
eddying in the tops of the trees. Long vine ropes swung from point to
point, hung at intervals with such matters as feathers, bones, miniature
shields, carved sticks, shells and clappers: either as magic or to keep
off the birds. From either side the track we were conscious always of
bright black eyes watching us. Sometimes we caught a glimpse of their
owners crouched in the bush, concealed behind banana leaves, motionless
and straight against a tree trunk. When they saw themselves observed
they vanished without a sound.
The upper air was musical with birds, and bright with the flutter of
their wings. Rarely did we see them long enough to catch a fair idea of
their size and shape. They flashed from shade to shade, leaving only
an impression of brilliant colour. There were some exceptions: as the
widower-bird, dressed all in black, with long trailing wing-plumes of
which he seemed very proud; and the various sorts of green pigeons and
parrots. There were many flowering shrubs and trees, and the air was
laden with perfume. Strange, too, it seemed to see tall trees with
leaves three or four feet long and half as many wide.
We were riding a mile or so ahead of the safari. At first we were
accompanied only by our gunbearers and syces. Before long, however, we
began to accumulate a following.
This consisted at first of a very wonderful young man, probably a
chief's son. He carried a long bright spear, wore a short sword thrust
through a girdle, had his hair done in three wrapped queues, one over
each temple and one behind, and was generally brought to a high state
of polish by means of red earth and oil. About his knee he wore a little
bell that jingled pleasingly at every step. From one shoulder hung a
goat-skin cloak embroidered with steel beads. A small package neatly
done up in leaves probably contained his lunch. He teetered along with a
mincing up and down step, every movement, and the expression of his face
displaying a fatuous self-satisfaction. When we looked back again this
youth had magically become two. Then appeared two women and a white
goat. All except the goat were dressed for visiting, with long chains of
beads, bracelets and anklets, and heavy ornaments in the distended ear
lobes. The manner people sprang apparently out of the ground was very
disconcerting. It was a good deal like those fairy-story moving pictures
where a wave of the wand produces beautiful ladies. By half an hour
we had acquired a long retinue-young warriors, old men, women and
innumerable children. After we had passed, the new recruits stepped
quietly from the shadow of the jungle and fell in. Every one with
nothing much to do evidently made up his mind he might as well go to
Meru now as any other time.
Also we met a great number of people going in the other direction. Women
were bearing loads of yams. Chiefs' sons minced along, their spears
poised in their left hands at just the proper angle, their bangles
jingling, their right hands carried raised in a most affected manner.
Their social ease was remarkable, especially in contrast with the
awkwardness of the lower poverty-stricken or menial castes. The latter
drew one side to let us pass, and stared. Our chiefs' sons, on the other
hand, stepped springingly and beamingly forward; spat carefully in their
hands (we did the same); shook hands all down the line: exchanged
a long-drawn “moo-o-ga!” with each of us; and departed at the same
springing rapid gait. The ordinary warriors greeted us, but did not
offer to shake hands, thank goodness! There were a great many of them.
Across the valleys and through the open spaces the sun, as it struck
down the trail, was always flashing back from distant spears. Twice we
met flocks of sheep being moved from one point to another. Three or four
herdsmen and innumerable small boys seemed to be in charge. Occasionally
we met a real chief or headman of a village, distinguished by the
fact that he or a servant carried a small wooden stool. With these
dignitaries we always stopped to exchange friendly words.
These comprised the travelling public. The resident public also showed
itself quite in evidence. Once our retainers had become sufficiently
numerous to inspire confidence, the jungle people no longer hid. On
the contrary, they came out to the very edge of the track to exchange
greetings. They were very good-natured, exceedingly well-formed, and
quite jocular with our boys. Especially did our suave and elegant Simba
sparkle. This resident public, called from its daily labours and duties,
did not always show as gaudy a make-up as did the dressed-up travelling
public. Banana leaves were popular wear, and seemed to us at once pretty
and fresh. To be sure some had rather withered away; but even wool will
shrink. We saw some grass skirts, like the Sunday-school pictures.
At noon we stopped under a tree by a little stream for lunch. Before
long a dozen women were lined up in front of us staring at Billy with
all their might. She nodded and smiled at them. Thereupon they sent
one of their number away. The messenger returned after a few moments
carrying a bunch of the small eating bananas which she laid at our feet.
Billy fished some beads out of her saddle bags, and presented them.
Friendly relations having been thus fully established, two or three of
the women scurried hastily away, to return a few moments later each with
her small child. To these infants they carefully and earnestly pointed
out Billy and her wonders, talking in a tongue unknown to us. The
admonition undoubtedly ran something like this:
“Now, my child, look well at this: for when you get to be a very old
person you will be able to look back at the day when with your own
eyes you beheld a white woman. See all the strange things she wears-and
HASN'T she a funny face?”
We offered these bung-eyed and totally naked youngsters various bribes
in the way of beads, the tinfoil from chocolate, and even a small piece
of the chocolate itself. Most of them howled and hid their faces against
their mothers. The mothers looked scandalized, and hypocritically
astounded, and mortified.
They made remarks, still in an unknown language, but which much past
experience enabled me to translate very readily:
“I don't know what has got into little Willie,” was the drift of it. “I
have never known him to act this way before. Why, only yesterday I was
saying to his father that it really seemed as though that child NEVER
cried-”
It made me feel quite friendly and at home.
Now at last came two marvellous and magnificent personages before
whom the women and children drew back to a respectful distance. These
potentates squatted down and smiled at us engagingly. Evidently this was
a really important couple, so we called up Simba, who knew the language,
and had a talk.
They were old men, straight, and very tall, with the hawk-faced,
high-headed dignity of the true aristocrat. Their robes were voluminous,
of some short-haired skins, beautifully embroidered. Around their arms
were armlets of polished buffalo horn. They wore most elaborate ear
ornaments, and long cased marquise rings extending well beyond the first
joints of the fingers. Very fine old gentlemen. They were quite unarmed.
After appropriate greetings, we learned that these were the chief
and his prime minister of a nearby village hidden in the jungle. We
exchanged polite phrases; then offered tobacco. This was accepted.
From the jungle came a youth carrying more bananas. We indicated our
pleasure. The old men arose with great dignity and departed, sweeping
the women and children before them.
We rode on. Our acquired retinue, which had waited at a respectful
distance, went on too. I suppose they must have desired the prestige
of being attached to Our Persons. In the depths of the forest Billy
succumbed to the temptation to bargain, and made her first trade. Her
prize was a long water gourd strapped with leather and decorated with
cowry shells. Our boys were completely scandalized at the price she paid
for it, so I fear the wily savage got ahead of her.
About the middle of the afternoon we sat down to wait for the safari to
catch up. It would never do to cheat our boys out of their anticipated
grand entrance to the Government post at Meru. We finally debouched
from the forest to the great clearing at the head of a most impressive
procession, flags flying, oryx horns blowing, boys chanting and beating
the sides of their loads with the safari sticks. As there happened to be
gathered, at this time, several thousand of warriors for the purpose
of a council, or shauri, with the District Commissioner we had just the
audience to delight our barbaric hearts.
(b) MERU
The Government post at Meru is situated in a clearing won from the
forest on the first gentle slopes of Kenia's ranges. The clearing is a
very large one, and on it the grass grows green and short, like a lawn.
It resembles, as much as anything else, the rolling, beautiful downs
of a first-class country club, and the illusion is enhanced by the
Commissioner's house among some trees atop a hill. Well-kept roadways
railed with rustic fences lead from the house to the native quarters
lying in the hollow and to the Government offices atop another hill.
Then also there are the quarters of the Nubian troops; round low houses
with conical grass roofs.
These, and the presence everywhere of savages, rather take away from
the first country-club effect. A corral seemed full of a seething mob of
natives; we found later that this was the market, a place of exchange.
Groups wandered idly here and there across the greensward; and other
groups sat in circles under the shade of trees, each man's spear stuck
in the ground behind him. At stated points were the Nubians, fine, tall,
black, soldierly men, with red fez, khaki shirt, and short breeches,
bare knees and feet, spiral puttees, and a broad red sash of webbing.
One of these soldiers assigned us a place to camp. We directed our
safari there, and then immediately rode over to pay our respects to the
Commissioner.
The latter, Horne by name, greeted us with the utmost cordiality, and
offered us cool drinks. Then we accompanied him to a grand shauri or
council of chiefs.
Horne was a little chap, dressed in flannels and a big slouch hat,
carrying only a light rawhide whip, with very little of the dignity and
“side” usually considered necessary in dealing with wild natives. The
post at Meru had been established only two years, among a people that
had always been very difficult, and had only recently ceased open
hostilities. Nevertheless in that length of time Horne's personal
influence had won them over to positive friendliness. He had, moreover,
done the entire construction work of the post itself; and this we now
saw to be even more elaborate than we had at first realized. Irrigating
ditches ran in all directions brimming with clear mountain water; the
roads and paths were rounded, graded and gravelled; the houses were
substantial, well built and well kept; fences, except of course the
rustic, were whitewashed; the native quarters and “barracks” were well
ranged and in perfect order. The place looked ten years old instead of
only two.
We followed Horne to an enclosure, outside the gate of which were
stacked a great number of spears. Inside we found the owners of those
spears squatted before the open side of a small, three-walled building
containing a table and a chair. Horne placed himself in the chair,
lounged back, and hit the table smartly with his rawhide whip. From the
centre of the throng an old man got up and made quite a long speech.
When he had finished another did likewise. All was carried out with the
greatest decorum. After four or five had thus spoken, Horne, without
altering his lounging attitude, spoke twenty or thirty words, rapped
again on the table with his rawhide whip, and immediately came over to
us.
“Now,” said he cheerfully, “we'll have a game of golf.”
That was amusing, but not astonishing. Most of us have at one time or
another laid out a scratch hole or so somewhere in the vacant lot. We
returned to the house, Horne produced a sufficiency of clubs, and we
sallied forth. Then came the surprise of our life! We played eighteen
holes-eighteen, mind you-over an excellently laid-out and kept-up
course! The fair greens were cropped short and smooth by a well-managed
small herd of sheep; the putting greens were rolled, and in perfect
order; bunkers had been located at the correct distances; there
were water hazards in the proper spots. In short, it was a genuine,
scientific, well-kept golf course. Over it played Horne, solitary except
on the rare occasions when he and his assistant happened to be at the
post at the same time. The nearest white man was six days' journey;
the nearest small civilization 196 miles.* The whole affair was most
astounding.
* Which was, in turn, over three hundred miles from the
next.
Our caddies were grinning youngsters a good deal like the Gold
Dust Twins. They wore nothing but our golf bags. Afield were other
supernumerary caddies: one in case we sliced, one in case we pulled,
and one in case we drove straight ahead. Horne explained that unlimited
caddies were easier to get than unlimited golf balls. I can well believe
it.
F. joined forces with Horne against B. and me for a grand international
match. I regret to state that America was defeated by two holes.
We returned to find our camp crowded with savages. In a short time we
had established trade relations and were doing a brisk business. Two
years before we should have had to barter exclusively; but now, thanks
to Horne's attempt to collect an annual hut tax, money was some good. We
had, however, very good luck with bright blankets and cotton cloth.
Our beads did not happen here to be in fashion. Probably three months
earlier or later we might have done better with them. The feminine mind
here differs in no basic essential from that of civilization. Fashions
change as rapidly, as often and as completely in the jungle as in Paris.
The trader who brings blue beads when blue beads have “gone out” might
just as well have stayed at home. We bought a number of the pretty
“marquise” rings for four cents apiece (our money), some war clubs or
rungas for the same, several spears, armlets, stools and the like. Billy
thought one of the short, soft skin cloaks embroidered with steel beads
might be nice to hang on the wall. We offered a youth two rupees for
one. This must have been a high price, for every man in hearing of the
words snatched off his cloak and rushed forward holding it out. As that
reduced his costume to a few knick-knacks, Billy retired from the busy
mart until we could arrange matters.
We dined with Horne. His official residence was most interesting. The
main room was very high to beams and a grass-thatched roof, with a
well-brushed earth floor covered with mats. It contained comfortable
furniture, a small library, a good phonograph, tables, lamps and the
like. When the mountain chill descended, Horne lit a fire in a coal-oil
can with a perforated bottom. What little smoke was produced by the
clean burning wood lost itself far aloft. Leopard skins and other
trophies hung on the wall. We dined in another room at a well-appointed
table. After dinner we sat up until the unheard of hour of ten o'clock
discussing at length many matters that interested us. Horne told us of
his personal bodyguard consisting of one son from each chief of his wide
district. These youths were encouraged to make as good an appearance
as possible, and as a consequence turned out in the extreme of savage
gorgeousness. Horne spoke of them carelessly as a “matter of policy in
keeping the different tribes well disposed,” but I thought he was at
heart a little proud of them. Certainly, later and from other sources,
we heard great tales of their endurance, devotion and efficiency. Also
we heard that Horne had cut in half his six months' leave (earned
by three years' continuous service in the jungle) to hurry back from
England because he could not bear the thought of being absent from the
first collection of the hut tax! He is a good man.
We said good-night to him and stepped from the lighted house into
the vast tropical night. The little rays of our lantern showed us the
inequalities of the ground, and where to step across the bubbling,
little irrigation streams. But thousands of stars insisted on a
simplification. The broad, rolling meadows of the clearing lay half
guessed in the dim light; and about its edge was the velvet band of
the forest, dark and mysterious, stretching away for leagues into the
jungle. From it near at hand, far away, came the rhythmic beating of
solemn great drums, and the rising and falling chants of the savage
peoples.
(C) THE CHIEFS
We left Meru well observed by a very large audience, much to the delight
of our safari boys, who love to show off. We had acquired fourteen more
small boys, or totos, ranging in age from eight to twelve years. These
had been fitted out by their masters to alleviate their original shenzi
appearance of savagery. Some had ragged blankets, which they had already
learned to twist turban wise around their heads; others had ragged
old jerseys reaching to their knees, or the wrecks of full-grown
undershirts; one or two even sported baggy breeches a dozen sizes too
large. Each carried his little load, proudly, atop his head like a real
porter, sufurias or cooking pots, the small bags of potio, and the like.
Inside a mile they had gravitated together and with the small boy's
relish for imitation and for playing a game, had completed a miniature
safari organization of their own. Thenceforth they marched in a compact
little company, under orders of their “headman.” They marched very well,
too, straight and proud and tireless. Of course we inspected their loads
to see that they were not required to carry too much for their strength;
but, I am bound to say, we never discovered an attempt at overloading.
In fact, the toto brigade was treated very well indeed. M'ganga
especially took great interest in their education and welfare. One of
my most vivid camp recollections is that of M'ganga, very benign and
didactic, seated on a chop box and holding forth to a semicircle of
totos squatted on the ground before him. On reaching camp totos had
several clearly defined duties: they must pick out good places for their
masters' individual camps, they must procure cooking stones, they must
collect kindling wood and start fires, they must fill the sufurias with
water and set them over to boil. In the meantime, their masters were
attending to the pitching of the bwana's camp. The rest of the time the
toto played about quite happily, and did light odd jobs, or watched most
attentively while his master showed him small details of a safari-boy's
duty, or taught him simple handicraft. Our boys seemed to take great
pains with their totos and to try hard to teach them.
Also at Meru we had acquired two cocks and four hens of the ridiculously
small native breed. These rode atop the loads: their feet were tied to
the cords and there they swayed and teetered and balanced all day long,
apparently quite happy and interested. At each new camp site they were
released and went scratching and clucking around among the tents. They
lent our temporary quarters quite a settled air of domesticity. We named
the cocks Gaston and Alphonse and somehow it was rather fine, in
the blackness before dawn, to hear these little birds crowing
stout-heartedly against the great African wilderness. Neither Gaston,
Alphonse nor any of their harem were killed and eaten by their owners;
but seemed rather to fulfil the function of household pets.
Along the jungle track we met swarms of people coming in to the post.
One large native safari composed exclusively of women were transporting
loads of trade goods for the Indian trader. They carried their burdens
on their backs by means of a strap passing over the top of the head; our
own “tump line” method. The labour seemed in no way to have dashed their
spirits, for they grinned at us, and joked merrily with our boys. Along
the way, every once in a while, we came upon people squatted down behind
small stocks of sugarcane, yams, bananas, and the like. With these our
boys did a brisk trade. Little paths led mysteriously into the jungle.
Down them came more savages to greet us. Everybody was most friendly and
cheerful, thanks to Horne's personal influence. Two years before this
same lot had been hostile. From every hidden village came the headmen
or chiefs. They all wanted to shake hands-the ordinary citizen never
dreamed of aspiring to that honour-and they all spat carefully into
their palms before they did so. This all had to be done in passing; for
ordinary village headmen it was beneath Our Dignity to draw rein. Once
only we broke over this rule. That was in the case of an old fellow with
white hair who managed to get so tangled up in the shrubbery that he
could not get to us. He was so frantic with disappointment that we made
an exception and waited.
About three miles out, we lost one of our newly acquired totos. Reason:
an exasperated parent who had followed from Meru for the purpose of
reclaiming his runaway offspring. The latter was dragged off howling.
Evidently he, like some of his civilized cousins, had “run away to join
the circus.” As nearly as we could get at it, the rest of the totos, as
well as the nine additional we picked up before we quitted the jungle,
had all come with their parents' consent. In fact, we soon discovered
that we could buy any amount of good sound totos, not house broke
however, for an average of half a rupee (16-1/2 cents) apiece.
The road was very much up and down hill over the numerous ridges that
star-fish out from Mt. Kenia. We would climb down steep trails from 200
to 800 feet (measured by aneroid), cross an excellent mountain stream of
crystalline dashing water, and climb out again. The trails of course had
no notion of easy grades. It was very hard work, especially for men with
loads; and it would have been impossible on account of the heat were
it not for the numerous streams. On the slopes and in the bottoms
were patches of magnificent forest; on the crests was the jungle, and
occasionally an outlook over extended views. The birds and the strange
tropical big-leaved trees were a constant delight-exotic and strange.
Billy was in a heaven of joy, for her specialty in Africa was plants,
seeds and bulbs, for her California garden. She had syces, gunbearers
and tent boys all climbing, shaking branches, and generally pawing
about.
This idiosyncracy of Billy's puzzled our boys hugely. At first they
tried telling her that everything was poisonous; but when that did not
work, they resigned themselves to their fate. In fact, some of the most
enterprising like Memba Sasa, Kitaru, and, later, Kongoni used of their
own accord to hunt up and bring in seeds and blossoms. They did not in
the least understand what it was for; and it used to puzzle them
hugely until out of sheer pity for their uneasiness, I implied that the
Memsahib collected “medicine.” That was rational, so the wrinkled brow
of care was smoothed. From this botanical trait, Billy got her native
name of “Beebee Kooletta”--“The Lady Who Says: Go Get That.” For in
Africa every white man has a name by which he is known among the native
people. If you would get news of your friends, you must know their local
cognomens-their own white man names will not do at all. For example,
I was called either Bwana Machumwani or Bwana N'goma. The former means
merely Master Four-eyes, referring to my glasses. The precise meaning of
the latter is a matter much disputed between myself and Billy. An N'goma
is a native dance, consisting of drum poundings, chantings, and hoppings
around. Therefore I translate myself (most appropriately) as the
Master who Makes Merry. On the other hand, Billy, with true feminine
indirectness, insists that it means “The Master who Shouts and Howls.” I
leave it to any fairminded reader.
About the middle of the morning we met a Government runner, a proud
youth, young, lithe, with many ornaments and bangles; his red skin
glistening; the long blade of his spear, bound around with a red strip
to signify his office, slanting across his shoulder; his buffalo hide
shield slung from it over his back; the letter he was bearing stuck in
a cleft stick and carried proudly before him as a priest carries a cross
to the heathen-in the pictures. He was swinging along at a brisk pace,
but on seeing us drew up and gave us a smart military salute.
At one point where the path went level and straight for some distance,
we were riding in an absolute solitude. Suddenly from the jungle on
either side and about fifty yards ahead of us leaped a dozen women. They
were dressed in grass skirts, and carried long narrow wooden shields
painted white and brown. These they clashed together, shrieked shrilly,
and charged down on us at full speed. When within a few yards of
our horses noses they came to a sudden halt, once more clashed their
shields, shrieked, turned and scuttled away as fast as their legs
could carry them. At a hundred yards they repeated the performance; and
charged back at us again. Thus advancing and retreating, shrieking high,
hitting the wooden shields with resounding crash, they preceded our slow
advance for a half mile or so. Then at some signal unperceived by us
they vanished abruptly into the jungle. Once more we rode forward in
silence and in solitude. Why they did it I could not say.
Of this tissue were our days made. At noon our boys plucked us each two
or three banana leaves which they spread down for us to lie on. Then
we dozed through the hot hours in great comfort, occasionally waking to
blue sky through green trees, or to peer idly into the tangled jungle.
At two o'clock or a little later we would arouse ourselves reluctantly
and move on. The safari we had dimly heard passing us an hour before.
In this country of the direct track we did not attempt to accompany our
men.
The end of the day's march found us in a little clearing where we could
pitch camp. Generally this was atop a ridge, so that the boys had some
distance to carry water; but that disadvantage was outweighed by the
cleared space. Sometimes we found ourselves hemmed in by a wall of
jungle. Again we enjoyed a broad outlook. One such in especial took in
the magnificent, splintered, snow-capped peak of Kenia on the right, a
tremendous gorge and rolling forested mountains straight ahead, and a
great drop to a plain with other and distant mountains to the left. It
was as fine a panoramic view as one could imagine.
Our tents pitched, and ourselves washed and refreshed, we gave audience
to the resident chief, who had probably been waiting. With this
potentate we conversed affably, after the usual expectoratorial
ceremonies. Billy, being a mere woman, did not always come in for this;
but nevertheless she maintained what she called her “quarantine gloves,”
and kept them very handy. We had standing orders with our boys for
basins of hot water to be waiting always behind our tents. After the
usual polite exchanges we informed the chief of our needs-firewood,
perhaps, milk, a sheep or the like. These he furnished. When we left we
made him a present of a few beads, a knife, a blanket or such according
to the value of his contribution.
To me these encounters were some of the most interesting of our many
experiences, for each man differed radically from every other in his
conceptions of ceremony, in his ideas, and in his methods. Our coming
was a good deal of an event, always, and each chief, according to his
temperament and training, tried to do things up properly. And in
that attempt certain basic traits of human nature showed in the very
strongest relief. Thus there are three points of view to take in running
any spectacle: that of the star performer, the stage manager, or the
truly artistic. We encountered well-marked specimens of each. I will
tell you about them.
The star performer knew his stagecraft thoroughly; and in the exposition
of his knowledge he showed incidentally how truly basic are the
principles of stagecraft anywhere.
We were seated under a tree near the banks of a stream eating our lunch.
Before us appeared two tall and slender youths, wreathed in smiles,
engaging, and most attentive to the small niceties of courtesy. We
returned their greeting from our recumbent positions, whereupon they
made preparation to squat down beside us.
“Are you sultans?” we demanded sternly, “that you attempt to sit in Our
Presence,” and we lazily kicked the nearest.
Not at all abashed, but favourably impressed with our transcendent
importance-as we intended-they leaned gracefully on their spears and
entered into conversation. After a few trifles of airy persiflage they
got down to business.
“This,” said they, indicating the tiny flat, “is the most beautiful
place to camp in all the mountains.”
We doubted it.
“Here is excellent water.”
We agreed to that.
“And there is no more water for a journey.”
“You are liars,” we observed politely.
“And near is the village of our chief, who is a great warrior, and will
bring you many presents; the greatest man in these parts.”
“Now you're getting to it,” we observed in English; “you want trade.”
Then in Swahili, “We shall march two hours longer.”
After a few polite phrases they went away. We finished lunch, remounted,
and rode up the trail. At the edge of the canyon we came to a wide
clearing, at the farther side of which was evidently the village in
question. But the merry villagers, down to the last toro, were drawn up
at the edge of the track in a double line through which we rode. They
were very wealthy savages, and wore it all. Bright neck, arm, and leg
ornaments, yards and yards of cowry shells in strings, blue beads of
all sizes (blue beads were evidently “in”), odd scraps and shapes of
embroidered skins, clean shaves and a beautiful polish characterized
this holiday gathering. We made our royal progress between the
serried ranks. About eight or ten seconds after we had passed the last
villager-just the proper dramatic pause, you observe-the bushes parted
and a splendid, straight, springy young man came into view and stepped
smilingly across the space that separated us. And about eight or ten
seconds after his emergence-again just the right dramatic pause-the
bushes parted again to give entrance to four of the quaintest little
dolls of wives. These advanced all abreast, parted, and took up
positions two either side the smiling chief. This youth was evidently
in the height of fashion, his hair braided in a tight queue bound with
skin, his ears dangling with ornaments, heavy necklaces around his neck,
and armlets etc., ad lib. His robe was of fine monkey skin embroidered
with rosettes of beads, and his spear was very long, bright and keen. He
was tall and finely built carried himself with a free, lithe swing. As
the quintette came to halt, the villagers fell silent and our shauri
began.
We drew up and dismounted. We all expectorated as gentlemen.
“These,” said he proudly, “are my beebees.”
We replied that they seemed like excellent beebees and politely inquired
the price of wives thereabout, and also the market for totos. He gave us
to understand that such superior wives as these brought three cows and
twenty sheep apiece, but that you could get a pretty good toto for half
a rupee.
“When we look upon our women,” he concluded grandly, “we find them
good; but when we look upon the white women they are as nothing!”
He completely obliterated the poor little beebees with a magnificent
gesture. They looked very humble and abashed. I was, however, a bit
uncertain as to whether this was intended as a genuine tribute to Billy,
or was meant to console us for having only one to his four.
Now observe the stagecraft of all this: entrance of diplomats,
preliminary conversation introducing the idea of the greatness of
N'Zahgi (for that was his name), chorus of villagers, and, as climax,
dramatic entrance of the hero and heroines. It was pretty well done.
Again we stopped about the middle of the afternoon in an opening on the
rounded top of a hill. While waiting for the safari to come up, Billy
wandered away fifty or sixty yards to sit under a big tree. She did not
stay long. Immediately she was settled, a dozen women and young girls
surrounded her. They were almost uproariously good-natured, but Billy
was probably the first white woman they had ever seen, and they intended
to make the most of her. Every item of her clothes and equipment they
examined minutely, handled and discussed. When she told them with great
dignity to go away, they laughed consumedly, fairly tumbling into each
other's arms with excess of joy. Billy tried to gather her effects for a
masterly retreat, but found the press of numbers too great. At last she
had to signal for help. One of us wandered over with a kiboko with which
lightly he flicked the legs of such damsels as he could reach. They
scattered like quail, laughing hilariously. Billy was escorted back to
safety.
Shortly after the Chief and his Prime Minister came in. He was a little
old gray-haired gentleman, as spry as a cricket, quite nervous, and very
chatty. We indicated our wants to him, and he retired after enunciating
many words. The safari came in, made camp. We had tea and a bath. The
darkness fell; and still no Chief, no milk, no firewood, no promises
fulfilled. There were plenty of natives around camp, but when we
suggested that they get out and rustle on our behalf, they merely
laughed good-naturedly. We seriously contemplated turning the whole lot
out of camp.
Finally we gave it up, and sat down to our dinner. It was now quite
dark. The askaris had built a little campfire out in front.
Then, far in the distance of the jungle's depths, we heard a faint
measured chanting as of many people coming nearer. From another
direction this was repeated. The two processions approached each other;
their paths converged; the double chanting became a chorus that grew
moment by moment. We heard beneath the wild weird minors the rhythmic
stamping of feet, and the tapping of sticks. The procession debouched
from the jungle's edge into the circle of the firelight. Our old chief
led, accompanied by a bodyguard in all the panoply of war: ostrich
feather circlets enclosing the head and face, shields of bright
heraldry, long glittering spears. These were followed by a dozen of the
quaintest solemn dolls of beebees dressed in all the white cowry shells,
beads and brass the royal treasury afforded, very earnest, very much
on inspection, every little head uplifted, singing away just as hard as
ever they could. Each carried a gourd of milk, a bunch of bananas, some
sugarcane, yams or the like. Straight to the fire marched the pageant.
Then the warriors dividing right and left, drew up facing each other
in two lines, struck their spears upright in the ground, and stood at
attention. The quaint brown little women lined up to close the end of
this hollow square, of which our group was, roughly speaking, the
fourth side. Then all came to attention. The song now rose to a wild
and ecstatic minor chanting. The beebees, still singing, one by one cast
their burdens between the files and at our feet in the middle of the
hollow square. Then they continued their chant, singing away at the tops
of their little lungs, their eyes and teeth showing, their pretty bodies
held rigidly upright. The warriors, very erect and military, stared
straight ahead.
And the chief? Was he the centre of the show, the important leading man,
to the contemplation of whom all these glories led? Not at all! This
particular chief did not have the soul of a leading man, but rather the
soul of a stage manager. Quite forgetful of himself and his part in the
spectacle, his brow furrowed with anxiety, he was flittering from one to
another of the performers. He listened carefully to each singer in turn,
holding his hand behind his ear to catch the individual note, striking
one on the shoulder in admonition, nodding approval at another. He
darted unexpectedly across to scrutinize a warrior, in the chance of
catching a flicker of the eyelid even. Nary a flicker! They did their
stage manager credit, and stood like magnificent bronzes. He even ran
across to peer into our own faces to see how we liked it.
With a sudden crescendo the music stopped. Involuntarily we broke
into handclapping. The old boy looked a bit startled at this, but we
explained to him, and he seemed very pleased. We then accepted formally
the heap of presents, by touching them-and in turn passed over a
blanket, a box of matches, and two needles, together with beads for the
beebees. Then F., on an inspiration, produced his flashlight. This made
a tremendous sensation. The women tittered and giggled and blinked as
its beams were thrown directly into their eyes; the chief's sons grinned
and guffawed; the chief himself laughed like a pleased schoolboy, and
seemed never to weary of the sudden shutting on and off of the switch.
But the trusty Spartan warriors, standing still in their formation
behind their planted spears, were not to be shaken. They glared straight
in front of them, even when we held the light within a few inches of
their eyes, and not a muscle quivered!
“It is wonderful! wonderful!” the old man repeated. “Many Government men
have come here, but none have had anything like that! The bwanas must be
very great sultans!”
After the departure of our friends, we went rather grandly to bed. We
always did after any one had called us sultans.
But our prize chief was an individual named M'booley.* Our camp here
also was on a fine cleared hilltop between two streams. After we had
traded for a while with very friendly and prosperous people M'booley
came in. He was young, tall, straight, with a beautiful smooth lithe
form, and his face was hawklike and cleverly intelligent. He carried
himself with the greatest dignity and simplicity, meeting us on an easy
plane of familiarity. I do not know how I can better describe his manner
toward us than to compare it to the manner the member of an exclusive
golf club would use to one who is a stranger, but evidently a guest. He
took our quality for granted; and supposed we must do the same by him,
neither acting as though he considered us “great white men,” nor yet
standing aloof and too respectful. And as the distinguishing feature of
all, he was absolutely without personal ornament.
* Pronounce each o separately.
Pause for a moment to consider what a real advance in esthetic taste
that one little fact stands for. All M'booley's attendants were the
giddiest and gaudiest savages we had yet seen, with more colobus fur,
sleighbells, polished metal, ostrich plumes, and red paint than would
have fitted out any two other royal courts of the jungle. The women too
were wealthy and opulent without limit. It takes considerable perception
among our civilized people to realize that severe simplicity amid ultra
magnificence makes the most effective distinguishing of an individual.
If you do not believe it, drop in at the next ball to which you are
invited. M'booley had fathomed this, and what was more he had the
strength of mind to act on it. Any savage loves finery for its own
sake. His hair was cut short, and shaved away at the edges to leave what
looked like an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one pair of
plain armlets on his left upper arm and small simple ear-rings. His robe
was black. He had no trace of either oil or paint, nor did he even carry
a spear.
He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and inquired conversationally if
we wanted anything. We suggested wood and milk, whereupon still
smiling, he uttered a few casual words in his own language to no one in
particular. There was no earthly doubt that he was chief. Three of the
most gorgeous and haughty warriors ran out of camp. Shortly long
files of women came in bringing loads of firewood; and others carrying
bananas, yams, sugarcane and a sheep. Truly M'booley did things on a
princely scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks with a casual
smile, waved his hand and went on to talk of something else. In due
order our M'ganga brought up one of our best trade blankets, to which we
added a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor.
Now into camp filed a small procession: four women, four children, and
two young men. These advanced to where M'booley was standing smoking
with great satisfaction one of B's tailor-made cigarettes. M'booley
advanced ten feet to meet them, and brought them up to introduce them
one by one in the most formal fashion. These were of course his family,
and we had to confess that they “saw” N'Zahgi's outfit of ornaments and
“raised” him beyond the ceiling. We gave them each in turn the handshake
of ceremony, first with the palms as we do it, and then each grasping
the other's upright thumb. The “little chiefs” were proud, aristocratic
little fellows, holding themselves very straight and solemn. I think one
would have known them for royalty anywhere.
It was quite a social occasion. None of our guests was in the least ill
at ease; in fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious. We
had a great many jokes. Each of the little ladies received a handful
of prevailing beads. M'booley smiled benignly at these delightful
femininities. After a time he led us to the edge of the hill and showed
us his houses across the cation, perched on a flat about halfway up the
wall. They were of the usual grass-thatched construction, but rather
larger and neater than most. Examining them through the glasses we saw
that a little stream had been diverted to flow through the front
yard. M'booley waved his hand abroad and gave us to understand that he
considered the outlook worth looking at. It was; but an appreciation of
that fact is foreign to the average native. Next morning, when we rode
by very early, we found the little flat most attractively cleared
and arranged. M'booley was out to shake us by the hand in farewell,
shivering in the cold of dawn. The flirtatious and spoiled little
beauties were not in evidence.
One day after two very deep canyons we emerged from the forest jungle
into an up and down country of high jungle bush-brush. From the top
of a ridge it looked a good deal like a northern cut-over pine country
grown up very heavily to blackberry vines; although, of course, when
we came nearer, the “blackberry vines” proved to be ten or twenty feet
high. This was a district of which Horne had warned us. The natives
herein were reported restless and semi-hostile; and in fact had never
been friendly. They probably needed the demonstration most native tribes
seem to require before they are content to settle down and be happy. At
any rate safaris were not permitted in their district; and we ourselves
were allowed to go through merely because we were a large party, did not
intend to linger, and had a good reputation with natives.
It is very curious how abruptly, in Central Africa, one passes from one
condition to another, from one tribe or race to the next. Sometimes, as
in the present case, it is the traversing of a deep cation; at others
the simple crossing of a tiny brook is enough. Moreover the line of
demarcation is clearly defined, as boundaries elsewhere are never
defined save in wartime.
Thus we smiled our good-bye to a friendly numerous people, descended a
hill, and ascended another into a deserted track. After a half mile we
came unexpectedly on to two men carrying each a load of reeds. These
they abandoned and fled up the hillside through the jungle, in spite of
our shouted assurances. A moment later they reappeared at some distance
above us, each with a spear he had snatched from somewhere; they were
unarmed when we first caught sight of them. Examined through the glasses
they proved to be sullen looking men, copper coloured, but broad across
the cheekbones, broad in the forehead, more decidedly of the negro type
than our late hosts.
Aside from these two men we travelled through an apparently deserted
jungle. I suspect, however, that we were probably well watched; for when
we stopped for noon we heard the gunbearers beyond the screen of leaves
talking to some one. On learning from our boys that these were some of
the shenzis, we told them to bring the savages in for a shauri; but in
this our men failed, nor could they themselves get nearer than fifty
yards or so to the wild people. So until evening our impression remained
that of two distant men, and the indistinct sound of voices behind a
leafy screen.
We made camp comparatively early in a wide open space surrounded by low
forest. Almost immediately then the savages commenced to drift in,
very haughty and arrogant. They were fully armed. Besides the spear and
decorated shield, some of them carried the curious small grass spears.
These are used to stab upward from below, the wielder lying flat in the
grass. Some of these men were fantastically painted with a groundwork
ochre, on which had been drawn intricate wavy designs on the legs,
like stockings, and varied stripes across the face. One particularly
ingenious individual, stark naked, had outlined a roughly entire
skeleton! He was a gruesome object! They stalked here and there through
the camp, looking at our men and their activities with a lofty and
silent contempt.
You may be sure we had our arrangements, though they did not appear on
the surface. The askaris, or native soldiers, were posted here and there
with their muskets; the gunbearers also kept our spare weapons by them.
The askaris could not hit a barn, but they could make a noise. The
gunbearers were fair shots.
Of course the chief and his prime minister came in. They were
evil-looking savages. To them we paid not the slightest attention, but
went about our usual business as though they did not exist. At the end
of an hour they of their own initiative greeted us. We did not hear
them. Half an hour later they disappeared, to return after an interval,
followed by a string of young men bearing firewood. Evidently our
bearing had impressed them, as we had intended. We then unbent far
enough to recognize them, carried on a formal conversation for a few
moments, gave them adequate presents and dismissed them. Then we ordered
the askaris to clear camp and to keep it clear. No women had appeared.
Even the gifts of firewood had been carried by men, a most unusual
proceeding.
As soon as dark fell the drums began roaring in the forest all about our
clearing, and the chanting to rise. We instructed our men to shoot first
and inquire afterward, if a shenzi so much as showed himself in the
clearing. This was not as bad as it sounded; the shenzi stood in no
immediate danger. Then we turned in to a sleep rather light and broken
by uncertainty. I do not think we were in any immediate danger of a
considered attack, for these people were not openly hostile; but there
was always a chance that the savages might by their drum pounding and
dancing work themselves into a frenzy. Then we might have to do a little
rapid shooting. Not for one instant the whole night long did those
misguided savages cease their howling and dancing. At any rate we cost
them a night's sleep.
Next morning we took up our march through the deserted tracks once more.
Not a sign of human life did we encounter. About ten o'clock we climbed
down a tremendous gash of a box canyon with precipitous cliffs. From
below we looked back to see, perched high against the skyline, the
motionless figures of many savages watching us from the crags. So we had
had company after all, and we had not known it. This canyon proved to
be the boundary line. With the same abruptness we passed again into
friendly country.
(d) OUT THE OTHER SIDE
We left the jungle finally when we turned on a long angle away from
Kenia. At first the open country of the foothills was closely cultivated
with fields of rape and maize. We saw some of the people breaking new
soil by means of long pointed sticks. The plowmen quite simply inserted
the pointed end in the ground and pried. It was very slow hard work. In
other fields the grain stood high and good. From among the stalks, as
from a miniature jungle, the little naked totos stared out, and the
good-natured women smiled at us. The magnificent peak of Kenia had now
shaken itself free of the forests. On its snow the sunrises and sunsets
kindled their fires. The flames of grass fires, too, could plainly be
made out, incredible distances away, and at daytime, through the reek,
were fascinating suggestions of distant rivers, plains, jungles, and
hills. You see, we were still practically on the wide slope of Kenia's
base, though the peak was many days away, and so could look out over
wide country.
The last half day of this we wandered literally in a rape field. The
stalks were quite above our heads, and we could see but a few yards in
any direction. In addition the track had become a footpath not over two
feet wide. We could occasionally look back to catch glimpses of a pack
or so bobbing along on a porter's head. From our own path hundreds of
other paths branched; we were continually taking the wrong fork and
moving back to set the safari right before it could do likewise. This we
did by drawing a deep double line in the earth across the wrong trail.
Then we hustled on ahead to pioneer the way a little farther; our
difficulties were further complicated by the fact that we had sent our
horses back to Nairobi for fear of the tsetse fly, so we could not see
out above the corn. All we knew was that we ought to go down hill.
At the ends of some of our false trails we came upon fascinating little
settlements: groups of houses inside brush enclosures, with low wooden
gateways beneath which we had to stoop to enter. Within were groups of
beehive houses with small naked children and perhaps an old woman or old
man seated cross-legged under a sort of veranda. From them we obtained
new-and confusing-directions.
After three o'clock we came finally out on the edge of a cliff fifty or
sixty feet high, below which lay uncultivated bottom lands like a great
meadow and a little meandering stream. We descended the cliff, and
camped by the meandering stream.
By this time we were fairly tired from long walking in the heat, and so
were content to sit down under our tent-fly before our little table, and
let Mahomet bring us sparklets and lime juice. Before us was the flat of
a meadow below the cliffs and the cliffs themselves. Just below the rise
lay a single patch of standing rape not over two acres in extent, the
only sign of human life. It was as though this little bit had overflowed
from the countless millions on the plateau above. Beyond it arose a thin
signal of smoke.
We sipped our lime juice and rested. Soon our attention was attracted
by the peculiar actions of a big flock of very white birds. They rose
suddenly from one side of the tiny rape field, wheeled and swirled like
leaves in the wind, and dropped down suddenly on the other side the
patch. After a few moments they repeated the performance. The sun caught
the dazzling white of their plumage. At first we speculated on what
they might be, then on what they were doing, to behave in so peculiar
a manner. The lime juice and the armchair began to get in their
recuperative work. Somehow the distance across that flat did not seem
quite as tremendous as at first. Finally I picked up the shotgun and
sauntered across to investigate. The cause of action I soon determined.
The owner of that rape field turned out to be an emaciated, gray-haired
but spry old savage. He was armed with a spear; and at the moment his
chief business in life seemed to be chasing a large flock of white birds
off his grain. Since he had no assistance, and since the birds held his
spear in justifiable contempt as a fowling piece, he was getting much
exercise and few results. The birds gave way before his direct charge,
flopped over to the other side, and continued their meal. They had
already occasioned considerable damage; the rape heads were bent and
destroyed for a space of perhaps ten feet from the outer edge of the
field. As this grain probably constituted the old man's food supply
for a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with which he shook his
spear at his enemies, nor the apparent flavour of his language, though I
did marvel at his physical endurance. As for the birds, they had become
cynical and impudent; they barely fluttered out of the way.
I halted the old gentleman and hastened to explain that I was neither a
pirate, a robber, nor an oppressor of the poor. This as counter-check to
his tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge. He understood a little
Swahili, and talked a few words of something he intended for that
language. By means of our mutual accomplishment in that tongue, and
through a more efficient sign language, I got him to understand the plan
of campaign. It was very simple. I squatted down inside the rape, while
he went around the other side to scare them up.
The white birds uttered their peculiarly derisive cackle at the old man
and flapped over to my side. Then they were certainly an astonished
lot of birds. I gave them both barrels and dropped a pair; got two more
shots as they swung over me and dropped another pair, and brought down a
straggling single as a grand finale. The flock, with shrill, derogatory
remarks, flew in an airline straight away. They never deviated, as far
as I could follow them with the eye. Even after they had apparently
disappeared, I could catch an occasional flash of white in the sun.
Now the old gentleman came whooping around with long, undignified bounds
to fall on his face and seize my foot in an excess of gratitude. He rose
and capered about, he rushed out and gathered in the slain one by one
and laid them in a pile at my feet. Then he danced a jig-step around
them and reviled them, and fell on his face once more, repeating the
word “Bwana! bwana! bwana!” over and over-“Master! master! master!” We
returned to camp together, the old gentleman carrying the birds, and
capering about like a small boy, pouring forth a flood of his sort of
Swahili, of which I could understand only a word here and there. Memba
Sasa, very dignified and scornful of such performances, met us halfway
and took my gun. He seemed to be able to understand the old fellow's
brand of Swahili, and said it over again in a brand I could understand.
From it I gathered that I was called a marvellously great sultan, a
protector of the poor, and other Arabian Nights titles.
The birds proved to be white egrets. Now at home I am strongly against
the killing of these creatures, and have so expressed myself on many
occasions. But, looking from the beautiful white plumage of these
villainous mauraders, to the wrinkled countenance of the grateful weary
old savage, I could not fan a spark of regret. And from the straight
line of their retreating flight I like to think that the rest of the
flock never came back, but took their toll from the wider fields of the
plateau above.
Next day we reentered the game-haunted wilderness, nor did we see any
more native villages until many weeks later we came into the country of
the Wakamba.