spite of the fact that it has nothing whatever to recommend it
except a harbour and a fine commercial and strategic position.
The heat is intense; there is no food produced on the spot for
man or beast, and very little water. In some years there is no
rain at all; in others a few showers come from the Indian Ocean,
with the Southwest Monsoon. The rain falls on the bare rock
and runs swiftly away; the lower courses of the streams become
rushing torrents for a few hours and then all is parched and
dry again. More than a thousand years ago the Persians, who then
ruled the city, built a series of huge tanks or reservoirs,
often hewn out of the solid rock, to catch the flood-water. We
can judge from their size and number that these tanks must have
been built to supply a large population. In course of time 54
the tanks were allowed to fall into decay, but some, as 55
we see here, have been restored under British rule; and since
the occupation of the district further inland, water has also
been brought by aqueduct from the wells at the village of Sheik
Othman. Sheik Othman is on the edge of the hills and far more
healthy and pleasant than Aden. Here is one of the wells 56
with a camel drawing water, and here we have a typical 57
scene in the village. The trees suggest at once that the climate
is different from that of Aden, and this part of the country
is likely to be used more and more as a health resort for the
troops of the garrison. In building the aqueduct we merely
followed the example of earlier rulers, as the ruins of a similar
aqueduct, centuries old, are still to be seen. The aqueduct is
not enough; water is also brought in skins laden on the backs
of camels, and is manufactured in condensers. In fact, water
is perhaps the most rare and valuable commodity to be found in
Aden. All food, too, must be imported; and here we must look not
only to the back country of the Yemen, but across the sea to the
neighbouring coast of Africa. Though some supplies are brought
in by caravan from the country round, yet Aden could not exist
without the regular shipments from Berbera and Zeila on the coast
of Somaliland. There is also considerable traffic in coffee,
ivory, feathers and skins from this coast, while native Somalis
swarm in Aden. So that Aden, by the necessities of its existence,
is closely linked with the neighbouring Horn of Africa. With no
products of its own, it is a collecting centre for the trade of
the coasts of Arabia and the Persian Gulf; while caravans can
come in comparative safety from the Yemen country now that the
British Sphere of Influence has been extended inland to the
line drawn from Perim northeastward. The camel caravan is one
of the ordinary sights of the town, and here in the native 58
quarter we see the market for camels, just as our English towns
have their markets for horses and cattle. Many of the camels are
shipped across to Somaliland, where we shall follow them 59
later; and it is interesting to see them hauled up in slings from
barges to the steamer’s deck. The camels, however, do not seem to
enjoy the experience.
Aden has had three stages in its history: first, a period of
prosperity, in the earliest days of trade between the peoples
of the Mediterranean and the East; then a period of partial
decay, when the centres of trade were shifted to Western Europe
and ships sailed round Africa to India and the East; finally,
a revival of its former position as a commercial port of call
on the restored Egyptian route, and in addition an ever-growing
importance as a coaling point and centre of strategic control
for the Indian Ocean. The population is increasing, like that
of Gibraltar, beyond the capacity of the little peninsula; this
has rendered necessary the expansion of territory inland. Even
some of the troops of the garrison are now quartered beyond the
isthmus. But expansion of area does not bring a corresponding
growth in the supply of food for the cosmopolitan population.
A prosperous Aden must in the future depend more and more on
imported supplies, and this must involve still closer relations
with the nearest source of supplies, the neighbouring coast of
Africa.
The resources of Somaliland are not unlimited; while not Aden
alone, but the whole Red Sea coast of Arabia is likely in the
future to become more dependent on imported food. Let us look (46)
back for a moment at these shores, before we leave the Red
Sea for the open ocean. We remember that our mail steamer in
its voyage found no port of call between Suez and Aden. So we
drive along one of our own high roads to-day, with nothing to
stop us, through open fields and uninhabited country; yet a few
years hence we may find it lined with houses and shops, and with
branch roads pouring their traffic into the main stream. It is
possible that our sea-road may grow in the same way. Along the
eastern shore the Turks are building a railway from Damascus to
the sacred cities of Medina and Mecca; it has already reached
Medina, and at sometime doubtless it will be continued southward
to Hodeida and the towns of the Yemen. For pilgrims, the railway
will make easier the journey to Mecca which every good Mohammedan
strives to take once in his life. For the Government of Turkey
it has another use: it will strengthen their control over the
southern corner of Arabia, a control which is never too secure.
The result must be more people and more trade on the coast
strip of Arabia, and need for supplies of food greater than the
neighbouring country can produce. We may see here in the future
the problem of Aden on a large scale, and again we must look
across the sea.
Jeddah is the port of Mecca; almost opposite Jeddah, on the
African coast, is Port Sudan, the gate of the Anglo-Egyptian
Sudan, and the terminus of the Sudan Government railway system,
which crosses the desert to the Nile and opens up the country
from Wadi Haifa in the north to Sennar in the southeast and
El Obeid in the west. This great region, with its centre at
Khartum, is entirely dependent for the bulk of its trade on
the railway and the seaport. As this country develops, it may
find a market for part of its products on the coast of Arabia,
while the rest will join the main movement through the Canal to
Europe. That portion of our high road which runs through the
Mediterranean owes much of its importance to the active life of
the neighbouring coasts; the Red Sea, by contrast, is a mere
passage through the desert which separates Europe from Asia. But
the railway is conquering the desert, and in the future this
portion also of the chain between West and East will take some
share in the busy traffic of the whole.
LECTURE III
THE INDIAN OCEAN
We leave Aden, with a mixed cargo of camels and Somalis, and
steam southward for a hundred and fifty miles across the Gulf
to visit the Horn of Africa, a region less known to Europeans,
before the present century, than much of the distant interior of
the vast Continent. We land at Berbera on the flat coast: 1
behind the little pier are the white houses of the European town,
and in the background a long mountain range. Lying off shore at
anchor is a vessel which attracts our attention at once, as 2
it reminds us of England; it is a sailing ship of the old type,
far more graceful than our steamer, resembling the hulks which
may be seen moored in some of our ports, with their sailing days
long past. But here it is still in full use; it has lost its
English name and become the Shah Jehan, and trades under the
Persian flag, bringing dates once a year from Muscat on the Gulf
of Oman. The seasonal visit of this ancient ship may serve to
remind us that we are merely newcomers in this quarter of the
world, and that it had its own busy life long before our arrival
or the age of steamships.
In Berbera we find the Somali in his natural state. The native 3
town is a mere collection of primitive huts, made of mats, rags,
mud and sticks; it looks like an encampment rather than a town;
but we must not be too ready to judge the native by his house,
as we shall see later that he has a good reason for not building
a more permanent home.
Somaliland is rather larger than England and Wales together, yet
a short excursion inland to the mountains will tell us nearly
all that we want to know about the country and its inhabitants.
Our way lies southward, across a desolate, stony plain, studded
with dry thorn bushes; it does not seem an inviting country.
The plain is narrow here, but further west towards Zeila it
broadens out to over fifty miles. A few miles out, where we
touch the foothills, we may be surprised to find springs of
warm water, issuing from the limestone rock. On these Berbera
depends for its existence, as there is no rainfall on the plain 4,5
worth considering. Here we see one of these springs and here
is the reservoir. Leaving the plain we mount a steep slope and
come out on a plateau; it is even more bare and stony than the 6
plain below. In front our track leads towards a long ridge, five
thousand feet high, the Gorlis Mountains; on our left is the
still higher range of Wagga. We cross the plateau and climb
up the pass to Sheikh; here we see our path by a rocky torrent 7
bed. We must carry with us our own camp, as we shall find
little shelter in this wild country and few inhabitants; though
when we have pitched our tent for the night, we have a visit 8
from a native, armed with spear and shield, and curious to make
the acquaintance of the white intruder. We notice that he seems
very suspicious of the camera. At Sheikh we are in the heart of
the mountains. From the bungalow of the political officer we 9
have a fine view down the long, steep pass, and can form some
idea of the nature of the rugged country through which we 10
are travelling. Here is another view across the mountain ridges.
To reach the highest view-point we must ride eastward to
Wagga, across another part of the plateau, dry and desolate as
before. Dotted here and there are gigantic red pillars; these
strange-looking shapes are not rocks but ant hills; they are 11
sometimes large enough to give us a little shade from the burning
sun of the desert. We can judge the size of the hill before us
by comparison with our camel escort; and here is a closer 12
view of another to help us. Far away in the background we can
distinguish the Wagga Mountains. The stony slopes of Wagga 13
are less bare than the plateau, though the vegetation again is
mostly thorns and aloes, with here and there a few cedars. After
a long scramble we reach the summit, up among the clouds, six
thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here are two views 14
from the summit, one towards the east, the other towards 15
the west; and here is our native guide, Giringh by name, 16
pointing northwards to where, over forty miles away, we can just
catch a glimpse of the Gulf of Aden.
Let us try to realize where we are standing. If we travel 17
southward from Wagga or from Sheikh, we go downhill, but we find
that the dried-up beds of the streams are sloping away from the
sea. We have crossed the main water-parting of the country. The
mountain ridges which we have scaled are merely the steep broken
edges of a great highland block which falls gently southwards to
a broad plateau, without hills or streams, a monotony of stones,
red earth, dust and dense thorn scrub. In the dry season we may
travel for a week or ten days together and find not a drop of
water. On the caravan routes are a few wells, such as we 18
see here, but many of these dry up, and we have to dig for a few
mouthfuls of warm, dirty water in the liquid mud at the bottom.
This is the _Haud_; it belongs partly to Britain, partly to Italy
and partly to Abyssinia, though in such a country boundaries have
little or no meaning; they are merely imaginary lines drawn from
a few known points through the unexplored area.
On the mountain slopes and on the plains at the foot are the
courses of many rivers and streams. These are marked on the map,
but few are permanent. In the rains they are rushing torrents,
overflowing the channels which are too narrow to contain them and
spreading out into wide unhealthy marshes; in the dry season
they are mere channels or _tugs_, with a few stagnant pools in
the deepest parts. The rains are of the tropical kind, beginning
in April and going on, with one break, through the summer. The
winter months are almost rainless, and the smallest annual fall
is on the coast.
The peculiarities of the plateau and the seasonal rainfall have
been largely responsible for the shaping of the Somali. He is
essentially a nomad; all his property is moveable and consists of
flocks and herds and camels. It is true that there are remains of
stone buildings, and deep wells in the rock, especially further
inland; but these are not the work of the present-day Somali; his
house is as easily moved as his cattle. In the dry weather we 19
see the herds collected round the permanent wells and on the
banks of the few streams where some water and pasture are still
to be found. Notice the primitive native method of getting 20
at the water. A man is handing it up in a jar or skin, while
another pours it into a trough for the cattle. The summer rains
bring vegetation to the dry steppe, and forthwith the people with
their animals migrate to the cooler air and fresh pasture of the
plateau. Berbera and the coast towns empty themselves in this way
in the hot weather, so that there is a great change in the size
of the population at different seasons of the year. There is no
real agriculture until we reach the borders of Abyssinia and the
river valleys in the far south and west.
We can now appreciate the importance of the camel in the life of
the Somali. Further inland, towards Harrar, where there is more
pasture, the mule is to be found; but for the dry region of the
_Haud_ the camel is the only efficient beast of burden. Here we
have him carrying all the goods of his owner, fastened not to a 21
saddle but to mats strapped round him. He appears to enjoy
feeding on thorns and will travel for days together without
water. He is also looked on as a great delicacy to be eaten by
those who can afford it.
The natives of Somaliland are very different in race from the
African people who live further south. Here is a group of 22
men, posed for the camera, with their little round shields
and long, broad-bladed spears; and here are some mounted 23
warriors. The Somali is a born fighter, and his weapons are never
very far away from him. The Somalis are an old Hamitic people,
akin to the early inhabitants of Egypt and the races of the
Mediterranean coasts of Africa. There is also a later admixture
of Arab blood, due to the nearness of Arabia and the spread of
Arab power in the Middle Ages all along the eastern coast of
Africa. They themselves claim Arab descent and show much of the
love of independence which is found among the Arabs. In religion,
too, they are fanatical Mohammedans, and they have never really
been conquered by an invader from without. For a few years the
Government of Egypt occupied the coast towns and some posts in
the interior in the neighbourhood of Harrar. When the Egyptians
retired, in 1884, we at once occupied part of the coast as a
dependency of Aden. About the same time the French took the
corner opposite Perim, while a long strip of coast on either side
fell to Italy. Behind all these is the independent native kingdom
of Abyssinia. For a time British Somaliland was governed as a
part of Aden; there was good reason for this since the country
is of small value except in relation to the control of the Red
Sea route, and is also entirely cut off on the land side from
the rest of our African territory. It is now under the Colonial
Office and is administered by a Commissioner, like so many of our
smaller Crown Colonies and Protectorates.
To keep order in the coast towns there is a force of native
Civil Police, under a European officer: here are some of 24
the havildars, and here the whole body in review order; 25
but we see that, unlike our own police, they are armed with
rifles. Somaliland is not a peaceful country, and police
alone are not enough; so a military force is necessary. This
consisted formerly of a battalion of the King’s African Rifles,
recruited partly from the natives and partly from India. Here
are the drummers and buglers, all natives, with a native 26
officer; and here is a whole company of Rifles on parade. 27
They are mounted on mules, and the European officer alone is on
horseback. This native force has been disbanded and replaced by
a contingent of Indian troops. We have also, in the past, been
compelled to employ British and Indian troops for expeditions up
country, to deal with the followers of a Mohammedan Mullah who
proclaimed a _jihad_, or holy war, a few years ago, and raided
first the Christians of Abyssinia and then the natives in our
own territory. The Mullah was only copying on a larger scale the
usual methods of the tribes of the interior; since the chief
amusement of the Somali consists in annexing the property of his
neighbours, whenever and wherever he can find the opportunity.
The geography of the country is all in favour of the native
raider and against the civilized troops which attempt to catch
him. In the dry season, when the Somali is for a time a fixture
in the neighbourhood of the wells, it is almost impossible to
move a considerable force up country, owing to the want of food
and water for men and animals on the march. When the rains come,
the whole country is open for the game of hide-and-seek, and in
this the white man is no match for the quick-moving native, who
is troubled by no problem of transport and is a nomad born and
bred. The land itself fights for the Somali; so that effective
European control is limited to the coast, except where the
French have pushed inland with the railway from Jibouti to the
neighbourhood of Harrar. None the less, the occupation of the
coast towns, Berbera, Bulhar and Zeila, is not entirely useless,
since these are the ends of the caravan routes from Abyssinia
and the interior. Here the animals, skins, gums and other wild
products of the country are exchanged for the rice of India, the
dates of Arabia, and the cottons of Europe and America which form
the sole dress of the native. For the rest, the Somali is likely
to be left in the undisturbed enjoyment of his native customs;
his chief visitor will be the sportsman and the naturalist, as
the land abounds in wild game and is the home of many strange
plants and animals which are not to be met with elsewhere in
Africa.
We have made a brief survey of British Somaliland, and though
much is not yet explored, yet it is not likely to differ greatly
from the part which we have seen. There will be the same red
dust and monotonous stony plain with its thorn bushes and dry
stream-beds. In some parts, by way of variety, the thorn will
grow so dense as to be impenetrable; in others it will disappear,
and we shall find pure desert. Only a Somali or a camel could
live and thrive in such a country. So we return to the coast
and continue our voyage. Again we must turn aside from the 28
direct road across the ocean to India and follow for a time the
long coast of Africa. We round Cape Guardafui, now the extreme
tip of the Horn; but the sea here is shallow, and the islands
which continue the line of the headland must at some remote time
have been joined to the continent. Of these islands, Socotra,
long and narrow, about a hundred miles from end to end, alone
need be noticed. It is a British Protectorate, controlled from
Aden, though nominally dependent on the little Arabian state of
Kishin. It is without harbours or trade, and our only interest
there is to prevent its occupation by any other Power which
might dispute with us the control of the Red Sea entrance. Aden,
Somaliland, Perim and Socotra have all the same place in our
policy; they have no meaning except in relation to the control of
the sea.
We steam onwards, and across the Equator, passing by the
coastline of Italian Somaliland and British East Africa, to
where, nearly two thousand miles from Aden, and close in to
the mainland, are two other islands coloured red on the map,
Pemba and Zanzibar. We are a long way off our course to India,
yet Zanzibar and the narrow strip of coast behind it belong by
history and development to India and Arabia rather than to the
neighbouring continent.
The Portuguese, on the way to India, creeping along the coast in
their old-fashioned vessels, found here Arab traders and Arab
cities with an active intercourse across the Indian Ocean. The
periodic Monsoon winds brought the fleets of dhows, with the
produce of India and the Persian Gulf, and carried them back with
their cargoes of ivory and slaves. The Portuguese occupied the
African coast region as part of their Indian Empire; the English
and Dutch, at a later time, made straight across the ocean from
the Cape or Mauritius and left the Portuguese undisturbed. So,
when the rule of Portugal collapsed through its own weakness, the
old conditions were restored.
For a long time Zanzibar and the neighbouring coasts were ruled
by local chiefs, nominally dependent on the Iman of Muscat in
southeastern Arabia; until, early in the nineteenth century,
Seyyid Said transferred his court from Muscat to Zanzibar and
extended his power over all the neighbouring coast. On his
death, in the middle of the century, Zanzibar, largely through
the influence of the Viceroy of India, was separated politically
from Muscat. It remains to-day in name an independent kingdom,
though stripped of its dominions on the mainland and under the
Protection of Britain. We became concerned with this region, in
the nineteenth century, mainly owing to our efforts to suppress
the slave trade of which it was the chief centre. We found
it impossible to carry out our policy without some effective
control over the native states, and our paramount interests in
Zanzibar and the mainland to the north have been recognized in
our agreements with France and Germany. To-day the palace of 29
the Sultan still remains, but on the site of the old slave-market
stands the Cathedral as a sign of the success of our efforts. 30
The island of Zanzibar is long and narrow; it measures about
fifty miles from north to south, and only twenty-five at its
widest in the middle. It is nearly three times the size of the
Isle of Man. A long ridge of hills divides it into two distinct
parts. The east is largely made up of old coral rock, with a very
thin layer of soil; it is not very fertile and is, moreover,
exposed to the full force of the Trade winds. Most of the
population is on the more sheltered western side, and here are
the town and harbour of Zanzibar. The ruling class and original
landowners are Arabs; but the mass of the people are Swahili, of
mixed African and Asiatic descent, and freed slaves, largely 31
natives of Africa. Here is a typical group of natives. The chief
wealth of the island lies in the cultivation of cloves, as a
large portion of the world’s crop is grown here; but there are
also the coconut palm, the rubber vine and many other tropical
plants. A great and interesting change is taking place in the
ownership of the plantations: the natives of India, shopkeepers,
traders and moneylenders, are steadily ousting the Arabs. The
Arab has lost much of his wealth, through the emancipation of his
slaves, and is slow to adapt himself to the new conditions; so
that the thrifty Indian bids fair to annex the whole island in
the near future, and Zanzibar will renew its connexion with the
mainland on the other side of the Indian Ocean.
Apart from its agriculture, the chief value of the island is in
the sheltered roadstead of the capital, as good harbours are 32
rare in this part of the world. Here we see it from the sea, 33
and here is one of the main streets of the town. In Zanzibar
we find all the races of the Indian Ocean represented, and here
are collected all the products of the islands and of the coast
of Africa, which is only twenty-five miles away. The trade with
India still remains, while the steamship has brought also direct
intercourse with Europe. In the early days of trade, the security
of a position on an island was an important factor in the growth
of a seaport; now that Europe is policing both the sea and the
mainland, the advantage of the island is less, and Zanzibar has
a growing rival a hundred and fifty miles away on the coast
of Africa. Mombasa is on a small island, connected with the 34
mainland by a causeway. On the north side is Mombasa harbour, 35
rather shallow and not very convenient for shipping; on the south
is the deep Kilindini channel, running for a long distance inland
and providing one of the finest harbours on the east coast of
Africa. Mombasa is the terminus of the railway which crosses the
low coast strip and surmounts the plateau of East Africa. The
trade of the port is very old; but only slaves and ivory could
be carried in former times over the long and difficult caravan
route which ended here. Now, the railway can bring down to the
sea all the products of a vast area inland. Here we have a 36
scene on the old road, and here by way of contrast the modern 37
railway. Mombasa, like Port Sudan, will create a new traffic in
the future, to join the great stream which moves through the
Indian Ocean and the Suez Canal; but the subject of British East
Africa and its resources must be left for future treatment; here
we are concerned only with its relation to our sea route.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 40._
ANT HILLS, ON THE ROAD TO WAGGA.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 41._
A SOMALI GUIDE.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 56._
RECEPTION BY THE SULTAN OF THE MALDIVES.]
Before we turn towards India we have yet another island to visit,
an island connected not with the new, but with the old route
to the East. This is Mauritius, lying east of Madagascar and
well out in the Indian Ocean, about two thousand four hundred
miles from Aden and rather less from Ceylon. We shall find it
very different from Zanzibar. A French patois is the language
commonly spoken; most of the names on the map are French, and
the statue of a great Frenchman is one of the first things 38
which we notice on landing at Port Louis. Mauritius was in effect
a purely French colony, when it became ours by conquest just a
century ago; but the immigration from India is now modifying
rapidly the French character of the island.