Magnificent scenery--Method of marching--Hippopotamus killed--Lions and
buffalo--Sequasha the ivory-trader.
Sandia gave us two guides; and on the 4th of June we left the Elephant
valley, taking a westerly course; and, after crossing a few ridges,
entered the Chingerere or Paguruguru valley, through which, in the rainy
season, runs the streamlet Pajodze. The mountains on our left, between
us and the Zambesi, our guides told us have the same name as the valley,
but that at the confluence of the Pajodze is called Morumbwa. We struck
the river at less than half a mile to the north of the cataract Morumbwa.
On climbing up the base of this mountain at Pajodze, we found that we
were distant only the diameter of the mountain from the cataract. In
measuring the cataract we formerly stood on its southern flank; now we
were perched on its northern flank, and at once recognized the
onion-shaped mountain, here called Zakavuma, whose smooth convex surface
overlooks the broken water. Its bearing by compass was l80 degrees from
the spot to which we had climbed, and 700 or 800 yards distant. We now,
from this standing-point, therefore, completed our inspection of all
Kebrabasa, and saw what, as a whole, was never before seen by Europeans
so far as any records show.
The remainder of the Kebrabasa path, on to Chicova, was close to the
compressed and rocky river. Ranges of lofty tree-covered mountains, with
deep narrow valleys, in which are dry watercourses, or flowing rivulets,
stretch from the north-west, and are prolonged on the opposite side of
the river in a south-easterly direction. Looking back, the mountain
scenery in Kebrabasa was magnificent; conspicuous from their form and
steep sides, are the two gigantic portals of the cataract; the vast
forests still wore their many brilliant autumnal-coloured tints of green,
yellow, red, purple, and brown, thrown into relief by the grey bark of
the trunks in the background. Among these variegated trees were some
conspicuous for their new livery of fresh light-green leaves, as though
the winter of others was their spring. The bright sunshine in these
mountain forests, and the ever-changing forms of the cloud shadows,
gliding over portions of the surface, added fresh charms to scenes
already surpassingly beautiful.
From what we have seen of the Kebrabasa rocks and rapids, it appears too
evident that they must always form a barrier to navigation at the
ordinary low water of the river; but the rise of the water in this gorge
being as much as eighty feet perpendicularly, it is probable that a
steamer might be taken up at high flood, when all the rapids are smoothed
over, to run on the Upper Zambesi. The most formidable cataract in it,
Morumbwa, has only about twenty feet of fall, in a distance of thirty
yards, and it must entirely disappear when the water stands eighty feet
higher. Those of the Makololo who worked on board the ship were not
sorry at the steamer being left below, as they had become heartily tired
of cutting the wood that the insatiable furnace of the "Asthmatic"
required. Mbia, who was a bit of a wag, laughingly exclaimed in broken
English, "Oh, Kebrabasa good, very good; no let shippee up to Sekeletu,
too muchee work, cuttee woodyee, cuttee woodyee: Kebrabasa good." It is
currently reported, and commonly believed, that once upon a time a
Portuguese named Jose Pedra,--by the natives called Nyamatimbira,--chief,
or capitao mor, of Zumbo, a man of large enterprise and small
humanity,--being anxious to ascertain if Kebrabasa could be navigated,
made two slaves fast to a canoe, and launched it from Chicova into
Kebrabasa, in order to see if it would come out at the other end. As
neither slaves nor canoe ever appeared again, his Excellency concluded
that Kebrabasa was unnavigable. A trader had a large canoe swept away by
a sudden rise of the river, and it was found without damage below; but
the most satisfactory information was that of old Sandia, who asserted
that in flood all Kebrabasa became quite smooth, and he had often seen it
so.
We emerged from the thirty-five or forty miles of Kebrabasa hills into
the Chicova plains on the 7th of June, 1860, having made short marches
all the way. The cold nights caused some of our men to cough badly, and
colds in this country almost invariably become fever. The Zambesi
suddenly expands at Chicova, and assumes the size and appearance it has
at Tette. Near this point we found a large seam of coal exposed in the
left bank.
We met with native travellers occasionally. Those on a long journey
carry with them a sleeping-mat and wooden pillow, cooking-pot and bag of
meal, pipe and tobacco-pouch, a knife, bow, and arrows, and two small
sticks, of from two to three feet in length, for making fire, when
obliged to sleep away from human habitations. Dry wood is always
abundant, and they get fire by the following method. A notch is cut in
one of the sticks, which, with a close-grained outside, has a small core
of pith, and this notched stick is laid horizontally on a knife-blade on
the ground; the operator squatting, places his great toes on each end to
keep all steady, and taking the other wand which is of very hard wood cut
to a blunt point, fits it into the notch at right angles; the upright
wand is made to spin rapidly backwards and forwards between the palms of
the hands, drill fashion, and at the same time is pressed downwards; the
friction, in the course of a minute or so, ignites portions of the pith
of the notched stick, which, rolling over like live charcoal on to the
knife-blade, are lifted into a handful of fine dry grass, and carefully
blown, by waving backwards and forwards in the air. It is hard work for
the hands to procure fire by this process, as the vigorous drilling and
downward pressure requisite soon blister soft palms.
Having now entered a country where lions were numerous, our men began to
pay greater attention to the arrangements of the camp at night. As they
are accustomed to do with their chiefs, they place the white men in the
centre; Kanyata, his men, and the two donkeys, camp on our right; Tuba
Mokoro's party of Bashubia are in front; Masakasa, and Sininyane's body
of Batoka, on the left; and in the rear six Tette men have their fires.
In placing their fires they are careful to put them where the smoke will
not blow in our faces. Soon after we halt, the spot for the English is
selected, and all regulate their places accordingly, and deposit their
burdens. The men take it by turns to cut some of the tall dry grass, and
spread it for our beds on a spot, either naturally level, or smoothed by
the hoe; some, appointed to carry our bedding, then bring our rugs and
karosses, and place the three rugs in a row on the grass; Dr.
Livingstone's being in the middle, Dr. Kirk's on the right, and Charles
Livingstone's on the left. Our bags, rifles, and revolvers are carefully
placed at our heads, and a fire made near our feet. We have no tent nor
covering of any kind except the branches of the tree under which we may
happen to lie; and it is a pretty sight to look up and see every branch,
leaf, and twig of the tree stand out, reflected against the clear star-
spangled and moonlit sky. The stars of the first magnitude have names
which convey the same meaning over very wide tracts of country. Here
when Venus comes out in the evenings, she is called Ntanda, the eldest or
first-born, and Manjika, the first-born of morning, at other times: she
has so much radiance when shining alone, that she casts a shadow. Sirius
is named Kuewa usiko, "drawer of night," because supposed to draw the
whole night after it. The moon has no evil influence in this country, so
far as we know. We have lain and looked up at her, till sweet sleep
closed our eyes, unharmed. Four or five of our men were affected with
moon-blindness at Tette; though they had not slept out of doors there,
they became so blind that their comrades had to guide their hands to the
general dish of food; the affection is unknown in their own country. When
our posterity shall have discovered what it is which, distinct from foul
smells, causes fever, and what, apart from the moon, causes men to be
moon-struck, they will pity our dulness of perception.
The men cut a very small quantity of grass for themselves, and sleep in
fumbas or sleeping-bags, which are double mats of palm-leaf, six feet
long by four wide, and sewn together round three parts of the square, and
left open only on one side. They are used as a protection from the cold,
wet, and mosquitoes, and are entered as we should get into our beds, were
the blankets nailed to the top, bottom, and one side of the bedstead.
A dozen fires are nightly kindled in the camp; and these, being
replenished from time to time by the men who are awakened by the cold,
are kept burning until daylight. Abundance of dry hard wood is obtained
with little trouble; and burns beautifully. After the great business of
cooking and eating is over, all sit round the camp-fires, and engage in
talking or singing. Every evening one of the Batoka plays his "sansa,"
and continues at it until far into the night; he accompanies it with an
extempore song, in which he rehearses their deeds ever since they left
their own country. At times animated political discussions spring up,
and the amount of eloquence expended on these occasions is amazing. The
whole camp is aroused, and the men shout to one another from the
different fires; whilst some, whose tongues are never heard on any other
subject, burst forth into impassioned speech.
As a specimen of our mode of marching, we rise about five, or as soon as
dawn appears, take a cup of tea and a bit of biscuit; the servants fold
up the blankets and stow them away in the bags they carry; the others tie
their fumbas and cooking-pots to each end of their carrying-sticks, which
are borne on the shoulder; the cook secures the dishes, and all are on
the path by sunrise. If a convenient spot can be found we halt for
breakfast about nine a.m. To save time, this meal is generally cooked
the night before, and has only to be warmed. We continue the march after
breakfast, rest a little in the middle of the day, and break off early in
the afternoon. We average from two to two-and-a-half miles an hour in a
straight line, or as the crow flies, and seldom have more than five or
six hours a day of actual travel. This in a hot climate is as much as a
man can accomplish without being oppressed; and we always tried to make
our progress more a pleasure than a toil. To hurry over the ground,
abuse, and look ferocious at one's native companions, merely for the
foolish vanity of boasting how quickly a distance was accomplished, is a
combination of silliness with absurdity quite odious; while kindly
consideration for the feelings of even blacks, the pleasure of observing
scenery and everything new as one moves on at an ordinary pace, and the
participation in the most delicious rest with our fellows, render
travelling delightful. Though not given to over haste, we were a little
surprised to find that we could tire our men out; and even the headman,
who carried but little more than we did, and never, as we often had to
do, hunted in the afternoon, was no better than his comrades. Our
experience tends to prove that the European constitution has a power of
endurance, even in the tropics, greater than that of the hardiest of the
meat-eating Africans.
After pitching our camp, one or two of us usually go off to hunt, more as
a matter of necessity than of pleasure, for the men, as well as
ourselves, must have meat. We prefer to take a man with us to carry home
the game, or lead the others to where it lies; but as they frequently
grumble and complain of being tired, we do not particularly object to
going alone, except that it involves the extra labour of our making a
second trip to show the men where the animal that has been shot is to be
found. When it is a couple of miles off it is rather fatiguing to have
to go twice; more especially on the days when it is solely to supply
their wants that, instead of resting ourselves, we go at all. Like those
who perform benevolent deeds at home, the tired hunter, though trying
hard to live in charity with all men, is strongly tempted to give it up
by bringing only sufficient meat for the three whites and leaving the
rest; thus sending the "idle ungrateful poor" supperless to bed. And yet
it is only by continuance in well-doing, even to the length of what the
worldly-wise call weakness, that the conviction is produced anywhere,
that our motives are high enough to secure sincere respect.
A jungle of mimosa, ebony, and "wait-a-bit" thorn lies between the
Chicova flats and the cultivated plain, on which stand the villages of
the chief, Chitora. He brought us a present of food and drink, because,
as he, with the innate politeness of an African, said, he "did not wish
us to sleep hungry: he had heard of the Doctor when he passed down, and
had a great desire to see and converse with him; but he was a child then,
and could not speak in the presence of great men. He was glad that he
had seen the English now, and was sorry that his people were away, or he
should have made them cook for us." All his subsequent conduct showed
him to be sincere.
Many of the African women are particular about the water they use for
drinking and cooking, and prefer that which is filtered through sand. To
secure this, they scrape holes in the sandbanks beside the stream, and
scoop up the water, which slowly filters through, rather than take it
from the equally clear and limpid river. This practice is common in the
Zambesi, the Rovuma, and Lake Nyassa; and some of the Portuguese at Tette
have adopted the native custom, and send canoes to a low island in the
middle of the river for water. Chitora's people also obtained their
supply from shallow wells in the sandy bed of a small rivulet close to
the village. The habit may have arisen from observing the unhealthiness
of the main stream at certain seasons. During nearly nine months in the
year, ordure is deposited around countless villages along the thousands
of miles drained by the Zambesi. When the heavy rains come down, and
sweep the vast fetid accumulation into the torrents, the water is
polluted with filth; and, but for the precaution mentioned, the natives
would prove themselves as little fastidious as those in London who drink
the abomination poured into the Thames by Reading and Oxford. It is no
wonder that sailors suffered so much from fever after drinking African
river water, before the present admirable system of condensing it was
adopted in our navy.
The scent of man is excessively terrible to game of all kinds, much more
so, probably, than the sight of him. A herd of antelopes, a hundred
yards off, gazed at us as we moved along the winding path, and timidly
stood their ground until half our line had passed, but darted off the
instant they "got the wind," or caught the flavour of those who had gone
by. The sport is all up with the hunter who gets to the windward of the
African beast, as it cannot stand even the distant aroma of the human
race, so much dreaded by all wild animals. Is this the fear and the
dread of man, which the Almighty said to Noah was to be upon every beast
of the field? A lion may, while lying in wait for his prey, leap on a
human being as he would on any other animal, save a rhinoceros or an
elephant, that happened to pass; or a lioness, when she has cubs, might
attack a man, who, passing "up the wind of her," had unconsciously, by
his scent, alarmed her for the safety of her whelps; or buffaloes, amid
other animals, might rush at a line of travellers, in apprehension of
being surrounded by them; but neither beast nor snake will, as a general
rule, turn on man except when wounded, or by mistake. If gorillas,
unwounded, advance to do battle with him, and beat their breasts in
defiance, they are an exception to all wild beasts known to us. From the
way an elephant runs at the first glance of man, it is inferred that this
huge brute, though really king of beasts, would run even from a child.
Our two donkeys caused as much admiration as the three white men. Great
was the astonishment when one of the donkeys began to bray. The timid
jumped more than if a lion had roared beside them. All were startled,
and stared in mute amazement at the harsh-voiced one, till the last
broken note was uttered; then, on being assured that nothing in
particular was meant, they looked at each other, and burst into a loud
laugh at their common surprise. When one donkey stimulated the other to
try his vocal powers, the interest felt by the startled visitors, must
have equalled that of the Londoners, when they first crowded to see the
famous hippopotamus.
We were now, when we crossed the boundary rivulet Nyamatarara, out of
Chicova and amongst sandstone rocks, similar to those which prevail
between Lupata and Kebrabasa. In the latter gorge, as already mentioned,
igneous and syenitic masses have been acted on by some great fiery
convulsion of nature; the strata are thrown into a huddled heap of
confusion. The coal has of course disappeared in Kebrabasa, but is found
again in Chicova. Tette grey sandstone is common about Sinjere, and
wherever it is seen with fossil wood upon it, coal lies beneath; and
here, as at Chicova, some seams crop out on the banks of the Zambesi.
Looking southwards, the country is open plain and woodland, with detached
hills and mountains in the distance; but the latter are too far off, the
natives say, for them to know their names. The principal hills on our
right, as we look up stream, are from six to twelve miles away, and
occasionally they send down spurs to the river, with brooks flowing
through their narrow valleys. The banks of the Zambesi show two well-
defined terraces; the first, or lowest, being usually narrow, and of
great fertility, while the upper one is a dry grassy plain, a thorny
jungle, or a mopane (_Bauhinia_) forest. One of these plains, near the
Kafue, is covered with the large stumps and trunks of a petrified forest.
We halted a couple of days by the fine stream Sinjere, which comes from
the Chiroby-roby hills, about eight miles to the north. Many lumps of
coal, brought down by the rapid current, lie in its channel. The natives
never seem to have discovered that coal would burn, and, when informed of
the fact, shook their heads, smiled incredulously, and said "_Kodi_"
(really), evidently regarding it as a mere traveller's tale. They were
astounded to see it burning freely on our fire of wood. They told us
that plenty of it was seen among the hills; but, being long ago aware
that we were now in an immense coalfield, we did not care to examine it
further.
A dyke of black basaltic rock, called Kakolole, crosses the river near
the mouth of the Sinjere; but it has two open gateways in it of from
sixty to eighty yards in breadth, and the channel is very deep.
On a shallow sandbank, under the dyke, lay a herd of hippopotami in
fancied security. The young ones were playing with each other like young
puppies, climbing on the backs of their dams, trying to take hold of one
another by the jaws and tumbling over into the water. Mbia, one of the
Makololo, waded across to within a dozen yards of the drowsy beasts, and
shot the father of the herd; who, being very fat, soon floated, and was
secured at the village below. The headman of the village visited us
while we were at breakfast. He wore a black "ife" wig and a printed
shirt. After a short silence he said to Masakasa, "You are with the
white people, so why do you not tell them to give me a cloth?" "We are
strangers," answered Masakasa, "why do you not bring us some food?" He
took the plain hint, and brought us two fowls, in order that we should
not report that in passing him we got nothing to eat; and, as usual, we
gave a cloth in return. In reference to the hippopotamus he would make
no demand, but said he would take what we chose to give him. The men
gorged themselves with meat for two days, and cut large quantities into
long narrow strips, which they half-dried and half-roasted on wooden
frames over the fire. Much game is taken in this neighbourhood in
pitfalls. Sharp-pointed stakes are set in the bottom, on which the game
tumbles and gets impaled. The natives are careful to warn strangers of
these traps, and also of the poisoned beams suspended on the tall trees
for the purpose of killing elephants and hippopotami. It is not
difficult to detect the pitfalls after one's attention has been called to
them; but in places where they are careful to carry the earth off to a
distance, and a person is not thinking of such things, a sudden descent
of nine feet is an experience not easily forgotten by the traveller. The
sensations of one thus instantaneously swallowed up by the earth are
peculiar. A momentary suspension of consciousness is followed by the
rustling sound of a shower of sand and dry grass, and the half-bewildered
thought of where he is, and how he came into darkness. Reason awakes to
assure him that he must have come down through that small opening of
daylight overhead, and that he is now where a hippopotamus ought to have
been. The descent of a hippopotamus pitfall is easy, but to get out
again into the upper air is a work of labour. The sides are smooth and
treacherous, and the cross reeds, which support the covering, break in
the attempt to get out by clutching them. A cry from the depths is
unheard by those around, and it is only by repeated and most desperate
efforts that the buried alive can regain the upper world. At Tette we
are told of a white hunter, of unusually small stature, who plumped into
a pit while stalking a guinea-fowl on a tree. It was the labour of an
entire forenoon to get out; and he was congratulating himself on his
escape, and brushing off the clay from his clothes, when down he went
into a second pit, which happened, as is often the case, to be close
beside the first, and it was evening before he could work himself out of
_that_.
Elephants and buffaloes seldom return to the river by the same path on
two successive nights, they become so apprehensive of danger from this
human art. An old elephant will walk in advance of the herd, and uncover
the pits with his trunk, that the others may see the openings and tread
on firm ground. Female elephants are generally the victims: more timid
by nature than the males, and very motherly in their anxiety for their
calves, they carry their trunks up, trying every breeze for fancied
danger, which often in reality lies at their feet. The tusker, fearing
less, keeps his trunk down, and, warned in time by that exquisitely
sensitive organ, takes heed to his ways.
Our camp on the Sinjere stood under a wide-spreading wild fig-tree. From
the numbers of this family, of large size, dotted over the country, the
fig or banyan species would seem to have been held sacred in Africa from
the remotest times. The soil teemed with white ants, whose clay tunnels,
formed to screen them from the eyes of birds, thread over the ground, up
the trunks of trees, and along the branches, from which the little
architects clear away all rotten or dead wood. Very often the exact
shape of branches is left in tunnels on the ground and not a bit of the
wood inside. The first night we passed here these destructive insects
ate through our grass-beds, and attacked our blankets, and certain large
red-headed ones even bit our flesh.
On some days not a single white ant is to be seen abroad; and on others,
and during certain hours, they appear out of doors in myriads, and work
with extraordinary zeal and energy in carrying bits of dried grass down
into their nests. During these busy reaping-fits the lizards and birds
have a good time of it, and enjoy a rich feast at the expense of
thousands of hapless workmen; and when they swarm they are caught in
countless numbers by the natives, and their roasted bodies are spoken of
in an unctuous manner as resembling grains of soft rice fried in
delicious fresh oil.
A strong marauding party of large black ants attacked a nest of white
ones near the camp: as the contest took place beneath the surface, we
could not see the order of the battle; but it soon became apparent that
the blacks had gained the day, and sacked the white town, for they
returned in triumph, bearing off the eggs, and choice bits of the bodies
of the vanquished. A gift, analogous to that of language, has not been
withheld from ants: if part of their building is destroyed, an official
is seen coming out to examine the damage; and, after a careful survey of
the ruins, he chirrups a few clear and distinct notes, and a crowd of
workers begin at once to repair the breach. When the work is completed,
another order is given, and the workmen retire, as will appear on
removing the soft freshly-built portion. We tried to sleep one rainy
might in a native hut, but could not because of attacks by the fighting
battalions of a very small species of formica, not more than
one-sixteenth of an inch in length. It soon became obvious that they
were under regular discipline, and even attempting to carry out the
skilful plans and stratagems of some eminent leader. Our hands and necks
were the first objects of attack. Large bodies of these little pests
were massed in silence round the point to be assaulted. We could hear
the sharp shrill word of command two or three times repeated, though
until then we had not believed in the vocal power of an ant; the instant
after we felt the storming hosts range over head and neck, biting the
tender skin, clinging with a death-grip to the hair, and parting with
their jaws rather than quit their hold. On our lying down again in the
hope of their having been driven off, no sooner was the light out, and
all still, than the manoeuvre was repeated. Clear and audible orders
were issued, and the assault renewed. It was as hard to sleep in that
hut as in the trenches before Sebastopol. The white ant, being a
vegetable feeder, devours articles of vegetable origin only, and leather,
which, by tanning, is imbued with a vegetable flavour. "A man may be
rich to-day and poor to-morrow, from the ravages of white ants," said a
Portuguese merchant. "If he gets sick, and unable to look after his
goods, his slaves neglect them, and they are soon destroyed by these
insects." The reddish ant, in the west called drivers, crossed our path
daily, in solid columns an inch wide, and never did the pugnacity of
either man or beast exceed theirs. It is a sufficient cause of war if
you only approach them, even by accident. Some turn out of the ranks and
stand with open mandibles, or, charging with extended jaws, bite with
savage ferocity. When hunting, we lighted among them too often; while we
were intent on the game, and without a thought of ants, they quietly
covered us from head to foot, then all began to bite at the same instant;
seizing a piece of the skin with their powerful pincers, they twisted
themselves round with it, as if determined to tear it out. Their bites
are so terribly sharp that the bravest must run, and then strip to pick
off those that still cling with their hooked jaws, as with steel forceps.
This kind abounds in damp places, and is usually met with on the banks of
streams. We have not heard of their actually killing any animal except
the Python, and that only when gorged and quite lethargic, but they soon
clear away any dead animal matter; this appears to be their principal
food, and their use in the economy of nature is clearly in the scavenger
line.
We started from the Sinjere on the 12th of June, our men carrying with
them bundles of hippopotamus meat for sale, and for future use. We
rested for breakfast opposite the Kakolole dyke, which confines the
channel, west of the Manyerere mountain. A rogue monkey, the largest by
far that we ever saw, and very fat and tame, walked off leisurely from a
garden as we approached. The monkey is a sacred animal in this region,
and is never molested or killed, because the people believe devoutly that
the souls of their ancestors now occupy these degraded forms, and
anticipate that they themselves must, sooner or later, be transformed in
like manner; a future as cheerless for the black as the spirit-rapper's
heaven is for the whites. The gardens are separated from each other by a
single row of small stones, a few handfuls of grass, or a slight furrow
made by the hoe. Some are enclosed by a reed fence of the flimsiest
construction, yet sufficient to keep out the ever wary hippopotamus, who
dreads a trap. His extreme caution is taken advantage of by the women,
who hang, as a miniature trap-beam, a kigelia fruit with a bit of stick
in the end. This protects the maize, of which he is excessively fond.
The quantity of hippopotamus meat eaten by our men made some of them ill,
and our marches were necessarily short. After three hours' travel on the
13th, we spent the remainder of the day at the village of Chasiribera, on
a rivulet flowing through a beautiful valley to the north, which is
bounded by magnificent mountain-ranges. Pinkwe, or Mbingwe, otherwise
Moeu, forms the south-eastern angle of the range. On the 16th June we
were at the flourishing village of Senga, under the headman Manyame,
which lies at the foot of the mount Motemwa. Nearly all the mountains in
this country are covered with open forest and grass, in colour, according
to the season, green or yellow. Many are between 2000 and 3000 feet
high, with the sky line fringed with trees; the rocks show just
sufficiently for one to observe their stratification, or their granitic
form, and though not covered with dense masses of climbing plants, like
those in moister eastern climates, there is still the idea conveyed that
most of the steep sides are fertile, and none give the impression of that
barrenness which, in northern mountains, suggests the idea that the bones
of the world are sticking through its skin.
The villagers reported that we were on the footsteps of a Portuguese half-
caste, who, at Senga, lately tried to purchase ivory, but, in consequence
of his having murdered a chief near Zumbo and twenty of his men, the
people declined to trade with him. He threatened to take the ivory by
force, if they would not sell it; but that same night the ivory and the
women were spirited out of the village, and only a large body of armed
men remained. The trader, fearing that he might come off second best if
it came to blows, immediately departed. Chikwanitsela, or Sekuanangila,
is the paramount chief of some fifty miles of the northern bank of the
Zambesi in this locality. He lives on the opposite, or southern side,
and there his territory is still more extensive. We sent him a present
from Senga, and were informed by a messenger next morning that he had a
cough and could not come over to see us. "And has his present a cough
too," remarked one of our party, "that it does not come to us? Is this
the way your chief treats strangers, receives their present, and sends
them no food in return?" Our men thought Chikwanitsela an uncommonly
stingy fellow; but, as it was possible that some of them might yet wish
to return this way, they did not like to scold him more than this, which
was sufficiently to the point.
Men and women were busily engaged in preparing the ground for the
November planting. Large game was abundant; herds of elephants and
buffaloes came down to the river in the night, but were a long way off by
daylight. They soon adopt this habit in places where they are hunted.
The plains we travel over are constantly varying in breadth, according as
the furrowed and wooded hills approach or recede from the river. On the
southern side we see the hill Bungwe, and the long, level, wooded ridge
Nyangombe, the first of a series bending from the S.E. to the N.W. past
the Zambesi. We shot an old pallah on the 16th, and found that the poor
animal had been visited with more than the usual share of animal
afflictions. He was stone-blind in both eyes, had several tumours, and a
broken leg, which showed no symptoms of ever having begun to heal. Wild
animals sometimes suffer a great deal from disease, and wearily drag on a
miserable existence before relieved of it by some ravenous beast. Once
we drove off a maneless lion and lioness from a dead buffalo, which had
been in the last stage of a decline. They had watched him staggering to
the river to quench his thirst, and sprang on him as he was crawling up
the bank. One had caught him by the throat, and the other by his high
projecting backbone, which was broken by the lion's powerful fangs. The
struggle, if any, must have been short. They had only eaten the
intestines when we frightened them off. It is curious that this is the
part that wild animals always begin with, and that it is also the first
choice of our men. Were it not a wise arrangement that only the
strongest males should continue the breed, one could hardly help pitying
the solitary buffalo expelled from the herd for some physical blemish, or
on account of the weakness of approaching old age. Banished from female
society, he naturally becomes morose and savage; the necessary
watchfulness against enemies is now never shared by others; disgusted, he
passes into a state of chronic war with all who enjoy life, and the
sooner after his expulsion that he fills the lion's or the wild-dog's
maw, the better for himself and for the peace of the country.
We encamped on the 20th of June at a spot where Dr. Livingstone, on his
journey from the West to the East Coast, was formerly menaced by a chief
named Mpende. No offence had been committed against him, but he had
firearms, and, with the express object of showing his power, he
threatened to attack the strangers. Mpende's counsellors having,
however, found out that Dr. Livingstone belonged to a tribe of whom they
had heard that "they loved the black man and did not make slaves," his
conduct at once changed from enmity to kindness, and, as the place was
one well selected for defence, it was perhaps quite as well for Mpende
that he decided as he did. Three of his counsellors now visited us, and
we gave them a handsome present for their chief, who came himself next
morning and made us a present of a goat, a basket of boiled maize, and
another of vetches. A few miles above this the headman, Chilondo of
Nyamasusa, apologized for not formerly lending us canoes. "He was
absent, and his children were to blame for not telling him when the
Doctor passed; he did not refuse the canoes." The sight of our men, now
armed with muskets, had a great effect. Without any bullying, firearms
command respect, and lead men to be reasonable who might otherwise feel
disposed to be troublesome. Nothing, however, our fracas with Mpende
excepted, could be more peaceful than our passage through this tract of
country in 1856. We then had nothing to excite the cupidity of the
people, and the men maintained themselves, either by selling elephant's
meat, or by exhibiting feats of foreign dancing. Most of the people were
very generous and friendly; but the Banyai, nearer to Tette than this,
stopped our march with a threatening war-dance. One of our party,
terrified at this, ran away, as we thought, insane, and could not, after
a painful search of three days, be found. The Banyai, evidently touched
by our distress, allowed us to proceed. Through a man we left on an
island a little below Mpende's, we subsequently learned that poor
Monaheng had fled thither, and had been murdered by the headman for no
reason except that he was defenceless. This headman had since become
odious to his countrymen, and had been put to death by them.
On the 23rd of June we entered Pangola's principal village, which is
upwards of a mile from the river. The ruins of a mud wall showed that a
rude attempt had been made to imitate the Portuguese style of building.
We established ourselves under a stately wild fig-tree, round whose trunk
witchcraft medicine had been tied, to protect from thieves the honey of
the wild bees, which had their hive in one of the limbs. This is a
common device. The charm, or the medicine, is purchased of the dice
doctors, and consists of a strip of palm-leaf smeared with something, and
adorned with a few bits of grass, wood, or roots. It is tied round the
tree, and is believed to have the power of inflicting disease and death
on the thief who climbs over it. Superstition is thus not without its
uses in certain states of society; it prevents many crimes and
misdemeanours, which would occur but for the salutary fear that it
produces.
Pangola arrived, tipsy and talkative.--"We are friends, we are great
friends; I have brought you a basket of green maize--here it is!" We
thanked him, and handed him two fathoms of cotton cloth, four times the
market-value of his present. No, he would not take so small a present;
he wanted a double-barrelled rifle--one of Dixon's best. "We are
friends, you know; we are all friends together." But although we were
willing to admit that, we could not give him our best rifle, so he went
off in high dudgeon. Early next morning, as we were commencing Divine
service, Pangola returned, sober. We explained to him that we wished to
worship God, and invited him to remain; he seemed frightened, and
retired: but after service he again importuned us for the rifle. It was
of no use telling him that we had a long journey before us, and needed it
to kill game for ourselves.--"He too must obtain meat for himself and
people, for they sometimes suffered from hunger." He then got sulky, and
his people refused to sell food except at extravagant prices. Knowing
that we had nothing to eat, they felt sure of starving us into
compliance. But two of our young men, having gone off at sunrise, shot a
fine waterbuck, and down came the provision market to the lower figure;
they even became eager to sell, but our men were angry with them for
trying compulsion, and would not buy. Black greed had outwitted itself,
as happens often with white cupidity; and not only here did the traits of
Africans remind us of Anglo-Saxons elsewhere: the notoriously ready world-
wide disposition to take an unfair advantage of a man's necessities shows
that the same mean motives are pretty widely diffused among all races. It
may not be granted that the same blood flows in all veins, or that all
have descended from the same stock; but the traveller has no doubt that,
practically, the white rogue and black are men and brothers.
Pangola is the child or vassal of Mpende. Sandia and Mpende are the only
independent chiefs from Kebrabasa to Zumbo, and belong to the tribe
Manganja. The country north of the mountains here in sight from the
Zambesi is called Senga, and its inhabitants Asenga, or Basenga, but all
appear to be of the same family as the rest of the Manganja and Maravi.
Formerly all the Manganja were united under the government of their great
chief, Undi, whose empire extended from Lake Shirwa to the River Loangwa;
but after Undi's death it fell to pieces, and a large portion of it on
the Zambesi was absorbed by their powerful southern neighbours the
Banyai. This has been the inevitable fate of every African empire from
time immemorial. A chief of more than ordinary ability arises and,
subduing all his less powerful neighbours, founds a kingdom, which he
governs more or less wisely till he dies. His successor not having the
talents of the conqueror cannot retain the dominion, and some of the
abler under-chiefs set up for themselves, and, in a few years, the
remembrance only of the empire remains. This, which may be considered as
the normal state of African society, gives rise to frequent and
desolating wars, and the people long in vain for a power able to make all
dwell in peace. In this light, a European colony would be considered by
the natives as an inestimable boon to intertropical Africa. Thousands of
industrious natives would gladly settle round it, and engage in that
peaceful pursuit of agriculture and trade of which they are so fond, and,
undistracted by wars or rumours of wars, might listen to the purifying
and ennobling truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Manganja on the
Zambesi, like their countrymen on the Shire, are fond of agriculture;
and, in addition to the usual varieties of food, cultivate tobacco and
cotton in quantities more than equal to their wants. To the question,
"Would they work for Europeans?" an affirmative answer may be given, if
the Europeans belong to the class which can pay a reasonable price for
labour, and not to that of adventurers who want employment for
themselves. All were particularly well clothed from Sandia's to
Pangola's; and it was noticed that all the cloth was of native
manufacture, the product of their own looms. In Senga a great deal of
iron is obtained from the ore and manufactured very cleverly.
As is customary when a party of armed strangers visits the village,
Pangola took the precaution of sleeping in one of the outlying hamlets.
No one ever knows, or at any rate will tell, where the chief sleeps. He
came not next morning, so we went our way; but in a few moments we saw
the rifle-loving chief approaching with some armed men. Before meeting
us, he left the path and drew up his "following" under a tree, expecting
us to halt, and give him a chance of bothering us again; but, having
already had enough of that, we held right on: he seemed dumbfoundered,
and could hardly believe his own eyes. For a few seconds he was
speechless, but at last recovered so far as to be able to say, "You are
passing Pangola. Do you not see Pangola?" Mbia was just going by at the
time with the donkey, and, proud of every opportunity of airing his small
stock of English, shouted in reply, "All right! then get on." "Click,
click, click."
On the 26th June we breakfasted at Zumbo, on the left bank of the
Loangwa, near the ruins of some ancient Portuguese houses. The Loangwa
was too deep to be forded, and there were no canoes on our side. Seeing
two small ones on the opposite shore, near a few recently erected huts of
two half-castes from Tette, we halted for the ferry-men to come over.
From their movements it was evident that they were in a state of
rollicking drunkenness. Having a waterproof cloak, which could be
inflated into a tiny boat, we sent Mantlanyane across in it. Three half-
intoxicated slaves then brought us the shaky canoes, which we lashed
together and manned with our own canoe-men. Five men were all that we
could carry over at a time; and after four trips had been made the slaves
began to clamour for drink; not receiving any, as we had none to give,
they grew more insolent, and declared that not another man should cross
that day. Sininyane was remonstrating with them, when a loaded musket
was presented at him by one of the trio. In an instant the gun was out
of the rascal's hands, a rattling shower of blows fell on his back, and
he took an involuntary header into the river. He crawled up the bank a
sad and sober man, and all three at once tumbled from the height of saucy
swagger to a low depth of slavish abjectness. The musket was found to
have an enormous charge, and might have blown our man to pieces, but for
the promptitude with which his companions administered justice in a
lawless land. We were all ferried safely across by 8 o'clock in the
evening.
In illustration of what takes place where no government, or law exists,
the two half-castes, to whom these men belonged, left Tette, with four
hundred slaves, armed with the old Sepoy Brown Bess, to hunt elephants
and trade in ivory. On our way up, we heard from natives of their
lawless deeds, and again, on our way down, from several, who had been
eyewitnesses of the principal crime, and all reports substantially
agreed. The story is a sad one. After the traders reached Zumbo, one of
them, called by the natives Sequasha, entered into a plot with the
disaffected headman, Namakusuru, to kill his chief, Mpangwe, in order
that Namakusuru might seize upon the chieftainship; and for the murder of
Mpangwe the trader agreed to receive ten large tusks of ivory. Sequasha,
with a picked party of armed slaves, went to visit Mpangwe who received
him kindly, and treated him with all the honour and hospitality usually
shown to distinguished strangers, and the women busied themselves in
cooking the best of their provisions for the repast to be set before him.
Of this, and also of the beer, the half-caste partook heartily. Mpangwe
was then asked by Sequasha to allow his men to fire their guns in
amusement. Innocent of any suspicion of treachery, and anxious to hear
the report of firearms, Mpangwe at once gave his consent; and the slaves
rose and poured a murderous volley into the merry group of unsuspecting
spectators, instantly killing the chief and twenty of his people. The
survivors fled in horror. The children and young women were seized as
slaves, and the village sacked. Sequasha sent the message to Namakusuru:
"I have killed the lion that troubled you; come and let us talk over the
matter." He came and brought the ivory. "No," said the half-caste, "let
us divide the land:" and he took the larger share for himself, and
compelled the would-be usurper to deliver up his bracelets, in token of
subjection on becoming the child or vassal of Sequasha. These were sent
in triumph to the authorities at Tette. The governor of Quillimane had
told us that he had received orders from Lisbon to take advantage of our
passing to re-establish Zumbo; and accordingly these traders had built a
small stockade on the rich plain of the right bank of Loangwa, a mile
above the site of the ancient mission church of Zumbo, as part of the
royal policy. The bloodshed was quite unnecessary, because, the land at
Zumbo having of old been purchased, the natives would have always of
their own accord acknowledged the right thus acquired; they pointed it
out to Dr. Livingstone in 1856 that, though they were cultivating it, is
was not theirs, but white man's land. Sequasha and his mate had left
their ivory in charge of some of their slaves, who, in the absence of
their masters, were now having a gay time of it, and getting drunk every
day with the produce of the sacked villages. The head slave came and
begged for the musket of the delinquent ferryman, which was returned. He
thought his master did perfectly right to kill Mpangwe, when asked to do
it for the fee of ten tusks, and he even justified it thus: "If a man
invites you to eat, will you not partake?"
We continued our journey on the 28th of June. Game was extremely
abundant, and there were many lions. Mbia drove one off from his feast
on a wild pig, and appropriated what remained of the pork to his own use.
Lions are particularly fond of the flesh of wild pigs and zebras, and
contrive to kill a large number of these animals. In the afternoon we
arrived at the village of the female chief, Ma-mburuma, but she herself
was now living on the opposite side of the river. Some of her people
called, and said she had been frightened by seeing her son and other
children killed by Sequasha, and had fled to the other bank; but when her
heart was healed, she would return and live in her own village, and among
her own people. She constantly inquired of the black traders, who came
up the river, if they had any news of the white man who passed with the
oxen. "He has gone down into the sea," was their reply, "but we belong
to the same people." "Oh no; you need not tell me that; he takes no
slaves, but wishes peace: you are not of his tribe." This antislavery
character excites such universal attention, that any missionary who
winked at the gigantic evils involved in the slave-trade would certainly
fail to produce any good impression on the native mind.