Most people have heard of Juja, the modern dwelling in the heart of an
African wilderness, belonging to our own countryman, Mr. W. N.
McMillan. If most people are as I was before I saw the place, they have
considerable curiosity and no knowledge of what it is and how it looks.
We came to Juja at the end of a wide circle that had lasted three
months, and was now bringing us back again toward our starting point.
For five days we had been camped on top a high bluff at the junction of
two rivers. When we moved we dropped down the bluff, crossed one river,
and, after some searching, found our way up the other bluff. There we
were on a vast plain bounded by mountains thirty miles away. A large
white and unexpected sign told us we were on Juja Farm, and warned us
that we should be careful of our fires in the long grass.
For an hour we plodded slowly along. Herds of zebra and hartebeeste drew
aside before us, dark heavy wildebeeste-the gnu-stood in groups at a
safe distance their heads low, looking exactly like our vanished bison;
ghostlike bands of Thompson's gazelles glided away with their smooth
regular motion. On the vast and treeless plains single small objects
standing above the general uniformity took an exaggerated value; so
that, before it emerged from the swirling heat mirage, a solitary tree
might easily be mistaken for a group of buildings or a grove. Finally,
however, we raised above the horizon a dark straight clump of trees. It
danced in the mirage, and blurred and changed form, but it persisted.
A strange patch of white kept appearing and disappearing again. This
resolved itself into the side of a building. A spider-legged water tower
appeared above the trees.
Gradually we drew up on these. A bit later we swung to the right around
a close wire fence ten feet high, passed through a gate, and rode down
a long slanting avenue of young trees. Between the trees were century
plants and flowers, and a clipped border ran before them. The avenue
ended before a low white bungalow, with shady verandas all about it, and
vines. A formal flower garden lay immediately about it, and a very tall
flag pole had been planted in front. A hundred feet away the garden
dropped off steep to one of the deep river canyons.
Two white-robed Somalis appeared on the veranda to inform us that
McMillan was off on safari. Our own boys approaching at this moment, we
thereupon led them past the house, down another long avenue of trees and
flowers, out into an open space with many buildings at its edges, past
extensive stables, and through another gate to the open plains once
more. Here we made camp. After lunch we went back to explore.
Juja is situated on the top of a high bluff overlooking a river. In
all directions are tremendous grass plains. Donya Sabuk-the Mountain of
Buffaloes-is the only landmark nearer than the dim mountains beyond
the edge of the world, and that is a day's journey away. A rectangle of
possibly forty acres has been enclosed on three sides by animal-proof
wire fence. The fourth side is the edge of the bluff. Within this
enclosure have been planted many trees, now of good size; a pretty
garden with abundance of flowers, ornamental shrubs, a sundial, and
lawns. In the river bottom land below the bluff is a very extensive
vegetable and fruit garden, with cornfields, and experimental plantings
of rubber, and the like. For the use of the people of Juja here are
raised a great variety and abundance of vegetables, fruits, and grains.
Juja House, as has been said, stands back a hundred feet from a bend
in the bluffs that permits a view straight up the river valley. It
is surrounded by gardens and trees, and occupies all one end of the
enclosed rectangle. Farther down and perched on the edge of a bluff,
are several pretty little bungalows for the accommodation of the
superintendent and his family, for the bachelors' mess, for the farm
offices and dispensary, and for the dairy room, the ice-plant and the
post-office and telegraph station. Back of and inland from this row on
the edge of the cliff, and scattered widely in open space, are a large
store stocked with everything on earth, the Somali quarters of low
whitewashed buildings, the cattle corrals, the stables, wild animal
cages, granaries, blacksmith and carpenter shops, wagon sheds and the
like. Outside the enclosure, and a half mile away, are the conical grass
huts that make up the native village. Below the cliff is a concrete dam,
an electric light plant, a pumping plant and a few details of the sort.
Such is a relief map of Juja proper. Four miles away, and on another
river, is Long Juja, a strictly utilitarian affair where grow ostriches,
cattle, sheep, and various irrigated things in the bottom land. All
the rest of the farm, or estate, or whatever one would call it, is open
plain, with here and there a river bottom, or a trifle of brush cover.
But never enough to constitute more than an isolated and lonesome patch.
Before leaving London we had received from McMillan earnest assurances
that he kept open house, and that we must take advantage of his
hospitality should we happen his way. Therefore when one of his
white-robed Somalis approached us to inquire respectfully as to what
we wanted for dinner, we yielded weakly to the temptation and told him.
Then we marched us boldly to the house and took possession.
All around the house ran a veranda, shaded bamboo curtains and vines,
furnished with the luxurious teakwood chairs of the tropics of which you
can so extend the arms as to form two comfortable and elevated rests for
your feet. Horns of various animals ornamented the walls. A megaphone
and a huge terrestrial telescope on a tripod stood in one corner.
Through the latter one could examine at favourable times the herds of
game on the plains.
And inside-mind you, we were fresh from three months in the
wilderness-we found rugs, pictures, wall paper, a pianola, many books,
baths, beautiful white bedrooms with snowy mosquito curtains, electric
lights, running water, and above all an atmosphere of homelike comfort.
We fell into easy chairs, and seized books and magazines. The Somalis
brought us trays with iced and fizzy drinks in thin glasses. When
the time came we crossed the veranda in the rear to enter a spacious
separate dining-room. The table was white with napery, glittering with
silver and glass, bright with flowers. We ate leisurely of a well-served
course dinner, ending with black coffee, shelled nuts, and candied
fruit. Replete and satisfied we strolled back across the veranda to the
main house. F. raised his hand.
“Hark!” he admonished us.
We held still. From the velvet darkness came the hurried petulant
barking of zebra; three hyenas howled.