```So fair a troop
```Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure
`````King Richard II=
|In the morning we found ourselves the centre of an admiring throng.
Every mouthful of my breakfast was criticised and commented on, every
square yard of camp was congested with Somalis, and when one, more
daring than the rest, embraced a rifle box, tight round its waist, as
though to feel the weight, and then let it drop, bump, my amazement and
horror knew no bounds. Even had he known the contents I don’t suppose
the treatment meted out would have been any kinder. The most experienced
native hunter has an idea that rifles are non-breakable, and a small
kink or bulge here and there can make no possible difference! But
this--_this_ was too much. I could not order the zareba to be cleared,
for the good reason we had no zareba, having been too tired the previous
day to form one. I could, and did, however, order the tents to be
struck, and meanwhile Cecily watched like a detective at a fashionable
wedding over the treasures. It would have been fairly easy to have lost
bits of our kit in such crowds.
Marching until about eleven, we settled down once more, only to be
immediately disturbed by a messenger from the head-man of the tribe just
so gladly parted from, who was followed hard on his tracks by a number
of horsemen, streaming across the plain, threading in and out between
the clumps of durr grass, the sun glinting on their shining spears.
They very kindly wished to entertain us with a species of circus
performance, known as the _dibâltig,_ a great equestrian feat, carried
out in this case by some fifty Somalis on typical native ponies got up
for the occasion--a veritable attempt to make silk purses out of sow’s
ears--in trappings of red, and many tassels. Their riders were dressed
in brilliantly dyed tobes of green and scarlet and blue, and each man
carried a complete warrior’s kit of shield, spear, and short sword.
It was nice that the performance did not wait for us to go to it, but
placed itself right in our way like this--a great improvement on the
system of amusements at home. Our men gave up all idea of doing any
camp work for the time, and stood in an admiring throng in a half-circle
behind Cecily and myself, who were allowed a box each to sit on.
On a prairie-like waste of sand the Somalis formed in an even line, and
with the usual “Salaam aleikum,” the show began. One of the horsemen
advanced slightly, and still sitting in his peaked saddle, began to sing
a long chant. I do not know if he was chosen as chorister because of
some hereditary right in his family, or by favour, or because of the
fancied excellence of his voice. With every singer not all are pleased.
So I will just state that this one sang. I need not say _how_. It
is rude to look a gift horse in the mouth, and this was a free
entertainment. The warbler continued his romance and pæan in various
tones for a long time when, suddenly, at a more screeching note than
usual, every man left the line and galloped frantically about the sand,
never knocking into each other, throwing spears with all their force
here, there, and everywhere, to catch them up again as the ponies dashed
past. The pace grew hotter, and presently each rider was enveloped in a
cloud of dust, and we could only see the energetic frantic forms through
a maze of sand. It reached us and set us coughing. The riders seemed
almost to lift the ponies by the grip of the knees and the balance
seemed perfect, and the greatest surprise was that something other than
the ground was not jabbed by the flying spears. Some good throwers could
attain a distance of about seventy to eighty yards.
They all careered about like possessed creatures in a turmoil of tossed
up sand and wild excitement, when, at a signal may be, but I saw none,
back the whole lot raced, straight like an arrow from a bow, so swiftly,
I thought we should be ridden over. But of course we had to sit tight,
and pretend we were not in fear and trembling about the issue of so
furious a charge. The poor ponies were reined in at our very feet so
jerkily and cruelly that the blood started from the overstrained corners
of their mouths. Then crowding around us, jostling and pushing each
other, the animals gasped and panted their hearts out. I longed to take
the whole lot to the wells to drink but of course we had to go through
the ceremonial properly. The dibaltig is a Somali way of doing honour or
paying allegiance, and is only performed at the election of a Sultan, or
for the offering of deference due to an English traveller.
With spears held aloft the Somalis united in the strident familiar “Mot!
Mot! Mot! io Mot!” (Hail! Hail! Hail! again Hail!)--to which, as a safe
remark, I replied “Mot!” The wrong thing, of course, and Clarence, who
stood just behind, whispered I was to say “Thank you,” which I did in
Somali, very badly.
Then we invited our circus party to a meal, and I said if they could
produce a couple of sheep from somewhere I would pay for the banquet.
We got through all right, but the whole of the day was taken up with
the princely entertainment. The sheep duly arrived, and the entire camp
helped to roast them, when with bowls of rice and _ghee_ as a top up,
every one made merry at our expense. We bestowed a few presents also, of
which the most successful was a _tusba_, wooden beads to be counted in
prayer saying. I was sorry we had not provided ourselves with more of
these to give away, as they seemed so intensely popular. Cecily gave one
Berserk a piece of gay red ribbon, and he seemed very much delighted.
They do not care for things of which no use can be made, as they are not
a silly nation. Red scarves and ribbon can always be used up effectively
for the ponies’ trappings on dibaltig and other great occasions.
We managed to effect an exchange here. I wanted a couple of the native
dyed blue and red _khaili_ tobes to take home as souvenirs, so Clarence
managed it for us by handing over two new white ones, a turban, and a
couple of iron tent pegs. These last were great treasures, as they can
be fashioned into spear heads. The throwing spear is a cruel barbed
affair, but some are plain. Accurately pitched it is a deadly weapon,
and the Somali as he throws gives the spear a smart knock on the palm of
his hand, which conveys an odd trembling that keeps the shaft straight
as it flies through the air. The spear blades take different shapes
in the different tribes, but shields seem to be of uniform pattern--of
oryx, rhino, or other leather, made with a handle at the back.
We did a short march in the evening and were spared the trouble of
building a zareba, and like cuckoos, took up a place in a nest of some
one’s making. It had been evacuated long enough to be fairly clean, and
did us well with a little patching. Ant-hills around us were so numerous
we seemed in the centre of some human settlement. That night a leopard
entered our zareba and, regardless of the fires and the watch, clawed
one of the ponies badly, being only driven off by having a rifle fired
at him. Even at such close quarters the bullet found no billet, as there
was no sign of the blood trail. We could clearly see the spot where our
visitor entered; the thorn was lower and weaker there. We decided to
remain over the next night and try and catch him. I gave orders for
somebody to ride back towards the camp of our dibaltig friends and, if
possible, buy a goat for tying up. Meanwhile, Cecily and I went out on a
sort of prospecting excursion. We actually came on some water oozing up
through a rock, not standing or sluggish. So we sent a man back to camp
to tell the head camel man to have out all his animals and water them
whether they wanted it or not.
We struck a well-defined caravan route, probably the road to Wardare
over the Marehan. We arrived by a more direct line from Galadi. Game is
always scarcer on frequented ways, so we turned off into the wilderness.
A rocky nullah lay to our left, and we caught a glimpse of a fine hyæna
looking over the country. He stood on the summit of a pile of whitish
rock, clearly outlined, and as he winded us, or caught a glimpse of the
leading figures, he was off his pinnacle with a mighty bound and away
into the adad bushes behind him. A little farther we came on fresh lion
spoor, and followed it up only to overrun it. The ground here was for
the most part so stony and baked up it was impossible to track at all.
We held on, searching in circles and then pursuing the line we thought
most likely. We were more than rewarded. Under a shady guda tree lay a
vast lioness with year-old cub. Our men ran in different directions to
cut off the retreat, but we called to them to come back. We had quite
enough skins without trying to deplete the country of a lioness at this
stage of the expedition, especially as the cub was small, and not yet
thoroughly able to fight his own battles. She would have to wage war
for herself and him. I dislike all wholesale slaughter; it ruins any
sporting ground.
Interested, we watched the two cats cantering off, shoulder to shoulder,
far out into the open country beyond our ken. Our men whispered among
themselves. We were out with the second hunter, as Clarence was occupied
in camp. They were puzzled evidently. As a result of a long course of
noticing that to many white shikaris a lion is a lion, and has no sex or
age, it seemed to the native mind a remarkably odd circumstance that we
made no effort at all to bag two specimens at one fell swoop. I never
had any scruples about killing hyenas. They are not to be classed as
among the more valuable fauna, being so numerous and productive, and
such low-down sneaking creatures, doing such harm among the herds
and _karias_, carrying off the children so frequently, and always
maltreating the face, as if with some evil design, voraciously tearing
it before it commences on any other part.
We entered a little forest of khansa and adad, sombre and dark. But in
the great tunnellings it was possible to see ahead for a fair distance.
We were just examining a bit of gum-arabic with faint tracery on it when
a hunter pulled my sleeve. There, a great way off, going with the wind,
moving with a rolling gait, was a lion; head carried low as is their
wont, and going along at a smart pace. Signing to the syce to stand
there with the ponies, Cecily and I rushed down the path the lion had
taken. But we never sighted him again. The jungle grew thicker, and it
was getting late, so we were forced to abandon the stalk, returning to
our distant camp after a blank day.
The goat had been procured, and after supper we had it tied in between
the fences of the zareba. Our stolen homestead being of native make,
I had a great loop-hole made for me in the inner circle and remained
inside our main camp, You have to do this miserable form of sport to
bag leopards, because they are too cunning as a rule to appear in the
day-time, and rarely walk about in the open way lions will. There is
nothing magnificent about the character of a leopard. He is a mere
cunning thief.
A rush, and the leopard was on his prey, his side towards me, his tail
slowly lashing from left to right with pleasure as he drank the warm
blood. I carefully sighted. It was not a dark night, and I simply
couldn’t miss. Bang! Then the second barrel. The whole caravan turned
out, and buzzed like disturbed bees, one or two wakeful spirits singing
the chant they keep for the occasion of the killing of some dangerous
beast. I had the leopard kept as he was until morning, when I examined
him to find he was of the Marehan variety, or hunting leopard, quite
different to his first cousin _Felis pardus_. His head was smaller, and
much more cunning looking, and he was distinguished from the panther by
non-retractile claws. He was fawn in colour, and his teeth were old and
much worn.
It took two men now pretty well all their time to see after the
trophies, and bar the way they went on with anything to do with
wart-hog, they really were most assiduous and careful. At first the men
actually routed us out every time the loading-up commenced in order that
we should put bits of pig on to the pack camels! We struck. It was going
a little too far. We made a huge fuss, and some one, probably the cook,
who seemed a more casual person than most, attended to this little
matter from that time onwards, and things went quite smoothly. I am sure
these scruples about pigs are very largely labour-saving dodges.
Next morning as we marched we came on a half-eaten lesser koodoo,
surrounded by a lot of kites, vultures, and white carrion storks, tall,
imposing-looking birds. We shot one to cure as a specimen, damaging it
rather. It had a horrid smell, but was very handsome. One of the hunters
skinned it at our next camp.
The American who was out with Clarence on his last big shikar seemed to
have been outrageously free and easy in his dealings with the men. In
fact, in one or two trifling ways such habits as we heard of had rather
been to Clarence’s detriment. A very little encouragement breeds too
great familiarity in any native of narrow mind. I do not mean to infer
that Clarence presumed, or that his judgment was ever at fault in his
dealings with us, merely that I was annoyed to hear some of his stories
relating to the terms on which the men of the camp were on with the
free and open-hearted Yankee. One would think that an American, with
the nigger problem ever before him, would be more stand-offish than
most people. May be he considered himself on a real holiday, and let his
national socialistic tendencies run riot. This is not “writ sarcastic,”
for I’m a Socialist myself, and if I were a professional politician I
should be a Socialist of a kind that very soon, in our time, will be the
usual type all over the world. At present, the Socialists, by going
too far, by plucking the fruit ere it is ripe, have brought ridicule
on themselves and their cause, and by associating themselves with
nihilists, anarchists, and destructionists generally, have alienated the
sympathy of all moderate, gradual, and practical reformers. The days for
revolutions have gone by, and the reforms urgently required by almost
every European nation can take place without the painting red of the
great cities.
[Illustration: 0251]
Gracious! I am digressing! And talking like a suffragette! This is
supposed to be a book on sport--mostly. Other things will creep in, and
come crowding to my pen, crying, “Put me down! Put me down!” But--a big
But: did you ever know a woman stick to the point?
Everywhere we came on ancient elephant tracks, but I think it would have
been difficult to find any sort of a specimen. We heard of none having
been seen for years, yet it has always been understood that at no
distant time this part of the Haweea was a resort for herds of the great
pachyderms.
We were now not more than a week’s trek of the east coast line.
Wonderful! Or we thought it so who had marched from Berbera. At our
next halt we came on a lake, a real lake, a delightful spot, quite a
good-sized sheet of water, 125 yards or so across, and formed in a basin
of gypsum-like rock. We had not seen so much water _en masse_ since
leaving the sea, and were so overjoyed and charmed with it that we
ordered the tents to be placed on the verge, so that the ripples lapped
up to our very feet. It was quite sea-side, or perhaps, more than
anything, reminiscent of a park at home, for all varieties of birds
floated on the surface and waded on the edge. When I threw broken
biscuit to them they paddled to me in their dozens, flying over each
other in the hurry to be first.
Of course, a swim was what appealed most to us. To be wet all over at
one time instead of furtive dabs with a damp sponge seemed the acme of
desirability. It seemed difficult of accomplishment. I don’t care for
mixed bathing at home--if the usual percentage of some twenty women
to three men can be called “mixed”--and then there was the awkwardness
about kit. Cecily suggested, in evil moment, cutting up the _khaili_
tobes. And we did, fashioning them into bathing-suits during the hot
hours of the afternoon, when we should have been using them. The
result might not have passed at Ostend; they were a _succès fou_ at
Sinna-dogho. On giving orders that the lake was to be reserved for us
at five o’clock--the men, who were good swimmers, having been dashing in
and out all day--the whole camp lined up to see the Mem-sahibs in a new
phase. It _was_ funny. We had made the tunics sleeveless, and from the
wrist up our skin was as white as white could be, but from the wrist
down we were Somali colour to our fingertips.
We ran in out of our tents, and words cannot tell how glorious that swim
was. We dived, we raced, we floated, we dabbled, until at last we knew
we must get out, for the water was quite cold. It was altogether
a rarity in Somaliland. The result will seem absurd, I know. Those
wretched _khaili_ tobes! The dye came straight out of them when wet, and
on to us-We found ourselves converted into woaded Britons! It was quite
a catastrophe, if ridiculous, and bothered us considerably, and at
night, very late, when it was quite dark, we went across to the other
side of’ the lake and had a real good scrub with any amount of water
to draw on. Coming back, something started up so close to me, I felt it
brush my hand--something furry. A wild dog, I imagine, for we saw many
next day.
It was an absolute joy to breakfast by the cool rippling waters, and we
could hardly bear to leave it to strike on to Joh, so remained all day,
and then, in the late afternoon, regretfully said “good-bye.” After a
short march we came on another small lake, not a patch on Sinnadogho,
but we liked it because it was wet. The country now was of the most
rolling description, intensely stony, with small rounded hills like
Atlantic billows, and in between good grass and grazing for many camels.
On the top of each rise there was thorn jungle, thick or sparse, and
stunted-looking guda trees. It was a most peculiar tract, holding on
like this for some way. We came on herds of camels and goats grazing,
this time in charge of men, and no _karia_ seemed visible for miles. We
procured some camel’s milk for the men, as it is such a treat to them.
We ourselves, however, liked it no better than before.
A Somali shepherd wished to tack on to us here, deserting his charge,
and as he seemed so very keen about it, and Clarence said he could do
with another man, we assented. It is the dream with some of these jungle
people to taste the sweets of civilisation, make money, and then return
to his tribe, acquiring many camels and wealth of goats and sheep, and
it is very strange that in no time he becomes a jungly person again,
casting off the trammels of civilisation with ease after having lived
perhaps for two or three years in the service of a white man. A very
good thing it is so too. For the savage who lives in the wild is far
more to be admired, and is altogether a more estimable creature than the
savage who drives you about Aden, or hauls your boxes about at Berbera.
Like many other wanderers, he learns the white man’s follies and faults
and none of his better attributes.
And so it comes about, once in a while, you enter a _karia_, with every
evidence of native domesticity about it, and are greeted by the village
head-man without the usual “Nabad,” or “Salaam aleikum,” and in great
amaze, you hear an English salutation.
We camped for the night at a place of deep stone wells. If game seemed
scarce, water was plentiful. Next day we came on a Somali encampment
where lions were provided against and so must occasionally come to
call. All manner of scare-lions were set about the zareba, torn herios
arranged flag-like on broken spears, and an ingenious scheme for making
a scratching noise in a wind amused us very much. It was a rough piece
of iron, strung on a bit of leather rope, and its duty was to scrape
against a flint set in a contrivance of wood. Poor protections against
so fierce a foe as a lion! This tribe seemed none too friendly, and we
put a couple of miles between us ere we camped.
We sighted a dibatag buck, shy as a hawk. This was a part of the country
destitute of game apparently. Only the useful dik-dik abode with us to
fill the pot.
To Joh next day. There was nothing to tell us it was Joh, any more than
Bob or Tom. The only reason it had for being specified as a place at all
was that it had a very superior well with running water. Even that did
not please half the caravan, for we saw them, in preference, choose a
dirty mud-hole and drink from it. We did a big day’s excursion into the
jungle, trying to come on spoor of any animal where spoor was not. As a
resort for game this part of Somaliland seems unpopular. I cannot think
why. Were I a lion, far rather would I haunt the shores of the lake at
Sinna-dogho than grill on the sands of the Ogaden.