Chapter I (13)

The Baloch and the sons of Ramji quarrel, yell, roar, and talk of eating--the popular subject of converse in these lands, as is beer in England, politics in France, law in Normandy, “pasta” at Naples, and to say no more, money everywhere--till a late hour. About 8 P.M., the small hours of the country, sounds the cry lala! lala!--sleep! It is willingly obeyed by all except the women, who must sometimes awake to confabulate even at midnight. One by one the caravan sinks into torpid slumber. At this time, especially when in the jungle-bivouac, the scene often becomes truly impressive. The dull red fires flickering and forming a circle of ruddy light in the depths of the black forest, flaming against the tall trunks and defining the foliage of the nearer trees, illuminate lurid groups of savage men, in every variety of shape and posture. Above, the dark purple sky, studded with golden points, domes the earth with bounds narrowed by the gloom of night. And, behold! in the western horizon, a resplendent crescent, with a dim, ash-coloured globe in its arms, and crowned by Hesperus, sparkling like a diamond, sinks through the vast of space, in all the glory and gorgeousness of Eternal Nature’s sublimest works. From such a night, methinks, the Byzantine man took his device, the Crescent and the Star.

The rate of caravan-marching in East Africa greatly varies. In cool moonlit mornings, over an open path, the Pagazi will measure perhaps four miles an hour. This speed is reduced by a quarter after a short “spurt,” and under normal, perhaps favourable, circumstances, three statute miles will be the highest average. Throughout the journey it is safe to reckon for an Indian file of moderate length--say 150 men--2·25 English miles, or what is much the same, 1·75 geographical miles per hour, measured by compass from point to point. In a clear country an allowance of 20 per cent, must be made for winding: in closer regions 40-50 per cent., and the traveller must exercise his judgment in distributing his various courses between these extremes. Mr. Cooley (Inner Africa Laid Open, p. 6) a “resolute,” and I may add a most successful “reducer of itinerary distances,” estimates that the ordinary day’s journey of the Portuguese missionaries in West Africa never exceeded six geographical miles projected in a straight line, and that on rare occasions, and with effort only, it may have extended to 10 miles. Dr. Lacerda’s porters in East Africa were terrified at the thought of marching ordinarily 2·50 Portuguese leagues, or about 9·33 statute miles per day. Dr. Livingstone gives the exceedingly high maximum of 2·50 to 3 miles an hour in a straight line, but his porters were lightly laden, and the Makololo are apparently a far “gamer” race, more sober and industrious, than the East Africans. Mr. Petherick, H. M.’s Consul at Khartum, estimates his gangs to have marched 3·50 miles per hour, and the ordinary day’s march at 8 hours. It is undoubted that the negro races north of the equator far surpass in pedestrian powers their southern brethren; moreover the porters in question were marching only for a single day; but as no instruments were used, the average may fairly be suspected of exaggeration. Finally Mr. Galton’s observation concerning Cape travelling applies equally well to this part of Africa, namely, that 10 statute or 6 rectilinear geographical miles per diem is a fair average of progress, and that he does well who conducts the same caravan 1,000 geographical miles across a wild country in six months.

I will conclude this chapter with a succinct account of the inn, that is to say the village in East Africa.

The habitations of races form a curious study and no valueless guide to the nature of the climate and the physical conditions to which men are subject.

Upon the East African coast the villages, as has been mentioned, are composed of large tenements, oblongs or squares of wattle and dab, with eaves projecting to form a deep verandah and a thatched pent-roof, approaching in magnitude that of Madagascar.

Beyond the line of maritime land the “Nyumba” or dwelling-house assumes the normal African form, the circular hut described by every traveller in the interior: Dr. Livingstone appears to judge rightly that its circularity is the result of a barbarous deficiency in inventiveness. It has, however, several varieties. The simplest is a loose thatch thrown upon a cone of sticks based upon the ground, and lashed together at the apex: it ignores windows, and the door is a low hole in the side. A superior kind is made after the manner of our ancient bee hives; it is cup-shaped with bulging sides, and covered with neat thatch, cut in circles which overlap one another tile-fashion: at a distance it resembles an inverted bird’s nest. The common shape is a cylindrical framework of tall staves, or the rough trunks of young trees planted in the earth, neatly interwoven with parallel and concentric rings of flexible twigs and withies: this is plastered inside and outside with a hard coat of red or grey mud; in the poorer tenements the surface is rough and chinked, in the better order it is carefully smoothed and sometimes adorned with rude imitations of life. The diameter averages from 20 to 25, and the height from 7 to 15 feet in the centre, which is supported by a strong roof-tree, to which all the stacked rafters and poles converge. The roof is subsequently added, it is a structure similar to the walls, interwoven with sticks, upon which thick grass or palm-fronds are thrown, and the whole is covered with thatch tied on by strips of tree-bark. It has eaves which projecting from two to six feet--under them the inhabitants love to sit or sun shade themselves--rest upon horizontal bars, which are here and there supported by forked uprights, trees rudely barked. Near the coast the eaves are broad and high: in the interior they are purposely made so low that a man must creep in on all fours. The door-way resembles the entrance to an English pig-sty, it serves, however, to keep out heat in the hot season, and to keep in smoke and warmth during the rains and the cold weather: the threshold is garnished with a horizontal log or board that defends the interior from inundation. The door is a square of reeds fastened together by bark or cord, and planted upright at night between the wall and two dwarf posts at each side of the entrance: there is generally a smaller and a secret door opposite that in use, and jealously closed up except when flight is necessary. In the colder and damper regions there is a second wall and roof outside the first, forming in fact one house within the other.

About Central Usagara the normal African haystack-hut makes place for the “Tembe” which extends westward, a little beyond Unyanyembe. The Tembe, though of Hamitic origin, resembles the Utum of the ancients, and the Hishan of the modern Hejaz, those hollow squares of building which have extended through Spain to France and even to Ireland: it was, probably, suggested to Africa and to Arabia by the necessity of defence to, as well as lodging for, man and beast. It is to a certain extent, a proof of civilisation in Eastern Africa: the wildest tribes have not progressed beyond the mushroom or circular hut, a style of architecture which seems borrowed from the indigenous mimosa tree.

Westward of Unyamwezi in Uvinza and about the Tanganyika Lake the round hovel again finds favour with the people; but even there the Arabs prefer to build for themselves the more solid and comfortable Tembe.

The haystack-hut has been described by a multitude of travellers: the “Tembe,” or hollow village, yet awaits that honour.

The “Tembe” wants but the addition of white-wash to make it an effective feature in African scenery: as it is, it appears from afar like a short line of raised earth. Provided with a block-house at each angle to sweep dead ground where fire, the only mode of attack practised in these regions, can be applied, it would become a fort impregnable to the Eastern African. The form is a hollow square or oblong, generally irregular, with curves, projections, and semicircles; in the East African Ghauts, the shape is sometimes round or oval to suit the exigencies of the hill-sides and the dwarf cones upon which it is built. On the mountains and in Ugogo, where timber is scarce, the houses form the continued frontage of the building, which, composed of mimosa-trunks, stout stakes, and wattle and dab, rarely exceeds seven feet in height. In the southern regions of Usagara where the Tembe is poorest, the walls are of clods loosely put together and roofed over with a little straw. About Msene where fine trees abound, the Tembe is surrounded by a separate boma or palisade of young unbarked trunks, short or tall, and capped here and there with cattle-skulls, blocks of wood, grass-wisps, and similar talismans; this stockade, in damper places, is hedged with a high thick fence, sometimes doubled and trebled, of peagreen milk-bush, which looks pretty and refreshing, and is ditched outside with a deep trench serving as a drain. The cleared space in front of the main passage through the hedges is often decorated with a dozen poles, placed in a wide semicircle to support human skulls, the mortal remains of ill-conducted boors. In some villages the principal entrance is approached by long, dark and narrow lanes of palisading. When the settlement is built purely for defence, it is called “Kaya,” and its headman “Muinyi Kaya,” the word, however, is sometimes used for “Boma” or “Mji,” a palisaded village in general. In some parts of Unyamwezi there is a Bandani or exterior boothy, where the men work at the forge, or sit in the shade, and where the women husk, pound, and cook their grain.

The general roof of the Tembe is composed of mud and clay heaped upon grass thickly strewed over a framework of rafters supported by the long walls. It has, usually, an obtuse slope to the front and another to the rear, that rain may not lie; it is, however, flat enough to support the bark-bins of grain, gourds, old pots, firewood, water-melons, pumpkins, manioc, mushrooms, and other articles placed there to ripen or dry in the sun. It has no projecting eaves, and it is ascended from the inside by the primitive ladder, the inclined trunk of a tree, with steps formed by the stumps of lopped boughs, acting rings. The roof, during the rains, is a small plot of bright green grass: I often regretted not having brought with me a little store of mustard and cress. In each external side of the square, one or two door-ways are pierced; they are large enough to admit a cow, and though public they often pass through private domiciles. They are jealously closed at sunset, after which hour not a villager dares to stir from his home till morning. The outer doors are sometimes solid planks, more often they are three or four heavy beams suspended to a cross-bar passing through their tops. When the way is to be opened they are raised from below and are kept up by being planted in a forked tree-trunk inside the palisade: they are let down when the entrance is to be closed, and are barred across with strong poles.

The tenements are divided from one another by party-walls of the same material as the exterior. Each house has, usually, two rooms, a “but” and a “ben,” which vary in length from 20 to 50 feet, and in depth from 12 to 15: they are partitioned by a screen of corn-canes supported by stakes, with a small passage left open for light. The “but,” used as parlour, kitchen, and dormitory, opens upon the common central square; the “ben” receives a glimmer from the doors and chinks, which have not yet suggested the idea of windows: it serves for a sleeping and a store room; it is a favourite place with hens and pigeons that aspire to be mothers, and the lambs and kids in early infancy are allowed to pass the night there. The inner walls are smeared with mud: lime is not procurable in Eastern Africa, and the people have apparently no predilection for the Indian “Gobar:” floor is of tamped earth, rough, uneven, and unclean. The prism-shaped ceiling is composed of rafters and thin poles gently rising from the long-walls to the centre, where they are supported by strong horizontals, which run the whole length of the house, and these again rest upon a proportionate number of pillars, solid forked uprights, planted in the floor. The ceiling is polished to a shiny black with smoke, which winds its way slowly through the door--smoke and grease are the African’s coat and small clothes, they contribute so much to his health and comfort that he is by no means anxious to get rid of them--and sooty lines depend from it like negro-stalactites.

The common enceinte formed by the houses is often divided into various courts, intended for different families, by the walls of the tenements, or by stout screens, and connected by long wynds and dark alleys of palisade-work. The largest and cleanest square usually belongs to the headman. In these spaces cattle are milked and penned; the ground is covered with a thick coat of the animals’ earths, dust in the hot weather and deep viscid mud during the rains: the impurity must be an efficacious fomite of cutaneous and pectoral disease. The villagers are fond of planting in the central courts trees, under whose grateful shade the loom is plied, the children play, the men smoke, and the women work. Here, also, stands the little Mzimu, or Fetiss-hut, to receive the oblations of the pious. Places are partitioned off from the public ground, near the houses, by horizontal trunks of trees, resting on forks, forming pens to keep the calves from the cows at night. In some villages huge bolsters of surplus grain, neatly packed in bark and corded round, are raised on tall poles near the interior doors of the tenements. Often, too, the insides of the settlements boast of pigeon-houses, which in this country are made to resemble, in miniature, those of the people. In Unyamwezi the centre is sometimes occupied by the Iwanza, or village “public-house,” which will be described in a future chapter.

In some regions, as in Ugogo, these lodgings become peculiarly offensive if not burnt after the first year. The tramping of the owners upon the roof shakes mud and soot from the ceiling, and the rains wash down masses of earthwork heavy enough to do injury. The interior is a menagerie of hens, pigeons, and rats, of peculiar impudence. Scorpions and earwigs fall from their nests in the warm or shady rafters. The former, locally termed “Nge,” is a small yellow variety, and though it stings spitefully the pain seldom lasts through the day; as many as three have dropped upon my couch in the course of the week. In Ugogo there is a green scorpion from four to five inches long, which inflicts a torturing wound. According to the Arabs the scorpion in Eastern Africa dies after inflicting five consecutive stings, and commits suicide if a bit of stick be applied to the middle of its back. The earwig is common in all damp places, and it haunts the huts on account of the shade. The insect apparently casts its coat before the rainy season, and the Africans ignore the superstition which in most European countries has given origin to its trivial name. A small xylophagus with a large black head rains a yellow dust like pollen from the riddled woodwork; house-crickets chirp from evening to dawn; cockroaches are plentiful as in an Indian steamer; and a solitary mason-wasp, the “Kumbharni,” or “potter’s wife” of western India--a large hymenopter of several varieties, tender-green, or black and yellow, or dark metallic blue--burrows holes in the wall, or raises plastered nests, and buzzes about the inmates’ ears; lizards, often tailless after the duello, tumble from the ceilings; in the darker corners spiders of frightful hideousness weave their solid webs; and the rest of the population is represented by tenacious ticks of many kinds, flies of sorts, bugs, fleas, mosquitoes, and small ants, which are, perhaps, the worst plagues of all. The Riciniæ in Eastern Africa are locally called Papazi, which probably explains the “Pazi bug,” made by Dr. Krapf a rival in venom to the Argas Persicus, or fatal “bug of Miana.” In Eastern Africa these parasites are found of many shapes, round and oval, flat and swollen; after suction they vary in size from microscopic dimensions to three-quarters of an inch; the bite cannot poison, but the constant irritation caused by it may induce fever and its consequences. A hut infested with Papazi must be sprinkled with boiling water, and swept clean for many weeks, before they will disappear. In the Tembe there is no draught to disturb the smaller occupants, consequently they are more numerous than in the circular cottage. Moreover, the people, having an aversion to sleeping in the open air, thus supply their co-inhabitants with nightly rations, which account for their fecundity.

The abodes, as might be expected, are poorly furnished. In Unyamwezi, they contain invariably one or more “Kitanda.” This cartel, or bedstead, is a rude contrivance. Two parallel lines of peeled tree-branches, planted at wide intervals, support in their forks horizontal poles: upon these is spread crosswise a layer of thick sticks, which forms the frame. The bedding consists of a bull-hide or two, and perhaps a long, coarse, rush-mat. It is impossible for any one but an African to sleep upon these Kitanda, on account of their shortness, the hardness of the material, and the rapid slope which supplies the want of pillows, and serves for another purpose which will not be described. When removed, a fractured pole will pour forth a small shower of the foul cimex: this people of hard skins considers its bite an agreeable titillation, and, what may somewhat startle a European, esteems its odour a perfume. Around the walls depend from pegs neatly-plaited slings of fibrous cord, supporting gourds and “vilindo”--neat cylinders, like small band-boxes, of tree bark, made to contain cloth, butter, grain, or other provisions. In the store-room, propped upon stones, and plastered over with clay for preservation, are Lindo, huge corn-bins of the same material; grain is ground upon a coarse granite slab, raised at an angle of 25°, about one foot above the floor, and embedded in a rim of hard clay. The hearth is formed of three “Mafiga,” or truncated cones of red or grey mud, sometimes two feet high, and ten inches in diameter at the base: they are disposed triangularly, with the apex to the wall, and open to the front when the fire is made. The pot rests upon the tripod. The broom, a wisp of grass, a bunch of bamboo splints, or a split fibrous root, usually sticks in the ceiling; its work is left to the ants. From the rafters hang drums and kettle-drums, skins and hides in every process, and hooked twigs dangling from strings support the bows and arrows, the spears and assegais. An arrow is always thrust into the inner thatch for good luck: ivory is stored between the rafters, hence its dark ruddy colour, which must be removed by ablution with warm blood; and the ceiling is a favourite place for small articles that require seasoning--bows, quivers, bird-bolts, knob-sticks, walking-canes, reed-nozzles for bellows, and mi’iko or ladles, two feet long, used to stir porridge. The large and heavy water-pots, of black clay, which are filled every morning and evening by the women at the well, lie during the day empty or half empty about the room. The principal article of luxury is the “Kiti,” or dwarf stool, cut out of a solid block, measuring one foot in height by six inches in diameter, with a concave surface for convenience of sitting: it has usually three carved legs or elbows; some, however, are provided with a fourth, and with a base like the seat, to steady them. They are invariably used by the Sultan and the Mganga, who disdain to sit upon the ground: and the Wamrima ornament them with plates of tin let into the upper concaves. The woods generally used for the Kiti, are the Mninga and the Mpingu. The former is a tall and stately tree, which supplies wood of a dark mahogany colour, exuding in life a red gum, like dragon’s blood: the trunk is converted into bowls and platters, the boughs into rafters, which are, however, weak and subject to the xylophagus, whilst of the heart are made spears, which, when old and well-greased, resemble teak-wood. The Mpingu is the Sisam of India, (Dalbergia Sissoo) here erroneously called by the Arabs Abnus--ebony. The tree is found throughout Eastern Africa. The wood is of fine quality, and dark at the core: the people divide it into male and female; the former is internally a dark brick-dust red, whilst the latter verges upon black: they make from it spears and axe-handles, which soon, however, when exposed to the air, unless regularly greased, become brittle. The massive mortar, for husking grain, called by the people “Mchi,” is shaped exactly like those portrayed in the interior-scenes of ancient Egypt: it is hewn out of the trunk of the close-grained Mkora tree. The huge pestle, like a capstan-bar, is made of the Mkorongo, a large tree with a fine-grained wood, which is also preferred to others for rafters, as it best resists the attacks of insects.

Such, gentle reader, is the Tembe of Central Africa. Concerning village life, I shall have something to say in a future page. The scene is more patent to the stranger’s eye in these lands than in the semi-civilised regions of Asia, where men rarely admit him into their society.

CHAP. XI.

WE CONCLUDE THE TRANSIT OF UNYAMWEZI.

I was detained at Kazeh from the 8th November to the 14th December, 1857, and the delay was one long trial of patience.

It is customary for stranger-caravans proceeding towards Ujiji to remain six weeks or two months at Unyanyembe for repose and recovery from the labours which they have, or are supposed to have, endured: moreover, they are expected to enjoy the pleasures of civilised society, and to accept the hospitality offered to them by the resident Arabs. In Eastern Africa, I may again suggest, six weeks is as the three days’ visit in England.

On the morning after our arrival at Kazeh, the gang of Wanyamwezi porters that had accompanied us from the coast withdrew their hire from our cloth-bales; and not demanding, because they did not expect, bakhshish, departed, without a sign of farewell, to their homes in Western Unyamwezi. The Kirangozi or guide received a small present of domestics: his family being at Msene, distant five marches ahead, he fixed, after long haggling, the term of fifteen days as his leave of absence, after which he promised to join me with a fresh gang for the journey to Ujiji.

The rest of the party apparently considered Unyanyembe, not Ujiji, the end of the exploration; it proved in effect a second point of departure, easier than Kaole only because I had now gained some experience.

Two days after our arrival, the Baloch, headed by their Jemadar, appeared in full toilette to demand a “Hakk el Salamah,” or reward for safe-conduct. I informed them that this would be given when they had reached the end of the up-march. The pragmatical Darwaysh declared that without bakhshish there would be no advance; he withdrew his words, however, when my companion was called in to witness their being committed to paper--a proceeding always unpalatable to the Oriental. The Baloch then subsided into begging for salt and spices, and having received more than they had probably ever possessed in their lives, they privily complained of my parsimony to Said bin Salim. They then sent for tobacco, a goat, gunpowder, bullets--all which they obtained. Their next manœuvre was to extract four cloths for tinning their single copper pot and for repairing the matchdogs and stocks of two old matchlocks. They then sold a keg of gunpowder committed to their charge. They had experienced every kindness from Snay bin Amir, from Sallum bin Hamid, in fact, from all the Arab merchants of Kazeh. They lodged comfortably in Musa Mzuri’s house, and their allowance, one Shukkah of domestics per diem, enabled them to buy goats, sheep, and fowls--luxuries unknown in their starving huts at Zanzibar. Yet they did not fail, with their foul tongues, ever ready, as the Persians say, for “spitting at Heaven,” to charge their kind hosts with the worst crime that the Arab knows--niggardness.

On the 8th November, I had arranged with Kidogo, as well as with the Kirangozi, to resume the march at the end of a fortnight. Ten days afterwards I again sent for him to conclude the plans concerning the journey: evidently something lay deep within his breast, but the difficulty was to extract it. He began by requiring a present for his excellent behaviour--he received, to his astonishment, four cloths. He next demanded leave to visit his Unyamwezi home for a week, and was unpleasantly surprised when it was granted. He then “hit the right nail on the head.” The sons of Ramji, declaring that I had promised them a bullock on arrival at Kazeh, had seized, hamstrung, and cut up a fine fat animal sent to me by Sallum bin Hamid; yet Kidogo averred that the alleged promise must be fulfilled to them. When I refused, he bluntly informed me that I was quite equal to the task of collecting porters for myself; I replied that this was his work and not mine. He left the house abruptly, swearing that he would not trouble himself any longer, and, moreover, for the future that his men should not carry the lightest load, nor assist us even in threading beads. At last, on the 27th November, I sent for Kidogo, and told him that the march was positively fixed for the next week. After sitting for a time “_cupo concentrato_,” in profound silence, the angry slave arose, delivered a volley of rattling words with the most theatrical fierceness, and rushed from the room, leaving the terrified Said bin Salim gazing upon vacancy like an idiot. Accompanied by his followers, who were shouting and laughing, he left the house, when--I afterwards heard--they drew their sabres, and waving them round their heads, they shouted, for the benefit of Arabs, “Tume-shinda Wazungu”--“We have conquered the Whites!” I held a consultation with my hosts concerning the advisability of disarming the recreant sons of Ramji. But Sallum bin Hamid, the “papa” of the colony, took up the word, and, as usual with such deliberative bodies, the council of war advised peace. They informed me that in Unyamwezi slaves and muskets are the stranger’s sole protection, and as they were unanimous in persuading me to temporise, to “swallow anger” till after return, I felt bound, after applying for it, to be guided by their advice. At the consultation, however, the real object which delayed the sons of Ramji at Kazeh oozed out: their patroon, Mr. Rush Ramji, had written to them that his and their trading outfit was on its way from the coast; consequently, they had determined to await, and to make us await, its arrival before marching upon Ujiji.

On the 14th November, the Masika or wet season, which had announced its approach by premonitory showers and by a final burst of dry heat, set in over the Land of the Moon with torrents of rain and “rain-stones,” as hail is here called, and with storms of thunder and lightning, which made it more resemble the first breaking of an Indian than the desultory fall of a Zanzibar wet-monsoon. I was still under the impression that we were encountering the Choti Barsat or Little Rains of Bengal and Bombay; and curious to say, the Arabs of Unyanyembe one and all declared, even after the wet-monsoon had reached its height, that the Masika in Unyamwezi is synchronous with that of the island and the coast, namely, in early April.

The Rains in Eastern Africa are, like the summer in England, the only healthy and enjoyable season: the contrast between the freshness of the air and the verdure of the scenery after the heat, dust, and desolation that preceded the first showers, was truly luxurious. Yet the Masika has many disadvantages for travellers. The Wanyamwezi, who were sowing their fields, declined to act porters, and several Arab merchants, who could not afford the expenditure required to hire unwilling men, were halted perforce in and near Unyanyembe. The peasants would come in numbers; offer to accompany the caravan; stand, stare, and laugh their vacant laughs; lift and balance their packs; chaffer about hire; promise to return next morning, and definitively disappear. With the utmost exertion Snay bin Amir could collect only ten men, and they were all ready to desert. Moreover, the opening of the Masika is ever unhealthy; strangers suffer severely from all sudden changes of temperature; Unyamwezi speedily became

“As full of agues as the sun in March.”

Another cause of delay became imminent; my companion was comparatively strong, but the others were prostrated by sickness. Valentine first gave in; he was nearly insensible for three days and nights, the usual period of the Mukunguru or “Seasoning” of Unyamwezi--a malignant bilious remittent--which left him weaker and thinner than he had ever been before. When he recovered, Gaetano fell ill, and was soon in the happy state of unconsciousness which distinguished all his fevers. The bull-headed slave Mabruki also retired into private life, and Bombay was laid up by a shaking ague, whilst the Baloch and the sons of Ramji, who had led a life so irregular that the Arabs had frequently threatened them with punishment, also began to pay the penalty of excess.

Snay bin Amir was our principal doctor. An adept in the treatment, called by his countrymen “camel-physic,” namely, cautery and similar counter-irritants, he tried his art upon me when I followed the example of the party. At length, when the Hummah, or hot fit, refused to yield to its supposed specific, a coating of powdered ginger, he insisted upon my seeing a Mganga, or witch, celebrated for her cures throughout the country-side. She came, a wrinkled old beldame, with a greasy skin, black as soot, set off by a mass of tin-coloured pigtails: her arms were adorned with copper bangles like manacles, and the implement of her craft was, as usual, a girdle of small gourds dyed red-black with oil and use.

After demanding and receiving her fee in cloth, she proceeded to search my mouth, and to inquire anxiously concerning poison. The question showed the prevalence of the practice in the country, and indeed the people, to judge from their general use of “Mithridates,” seem ever to expect it. She then drew from a gourd a greenish powder, which was apparently bhang, and having mixed it with water, she administered it like snuff, causing a convulsion of sneezing, which she hailed with shouts and various tokens of joy. Presently she rubbed my head with powder of another kind, and promising to return the next day, she left me to rest, declaring that sleep would cause a cure. The prediction, however, was not fulfilled, nor was the promise. Having become wealthy, she absconded to indulge in unlimited pombe for a week. The usual consequences of this “seasoning,” distressing weakness, hepatic derangements, burning palms, and tingling soles, aching eyes, and alternate thrills of heat and cold, lasted, in my case, a whole month.

Our departure from Kazeh had now been repeatedly deferred. The fortnight originally fixed for the halt had soon passed in the vain search for porters. Sickness then delayed the journey till the 1st December, and Snay bin Amir still opined that want of carriage would detain me till the 19th of that month; he would not name the 18th, which was an unlucky day. When they recovered from their ailments, the Jemadar and the Baloch again began to be troublesome. All declared that a whole year, the term for which they had been sent by their Prince, had elapsed, and therefore that they had now a right to return. The period was wholly one of their own, based perhaps upon an answer which they had received from Lieut.-Col. Hamerton touching the probable duration of the Expedition, “a year or so.” Even of that time it still wanted five months, but nothing from myself or from Said bin Salim could convince men who would not be convinced, of that simple fact. Ismail, the Baloch, who was dying of dysentery, reported himself unable to proceed: arrangements were made to leave him and his “brother” Shahdad--the fearful tinkling of whose sleepless guitar argued that the sweet youth was in love--under the charge of Snay bin Amir, at Kazeh. Greybeard Mohammed was sulking with his fellows. He sat apart from them; and complaining that he had not received his portion of food, came to me for dismissal, which was granted, but not accepted. The Jemadar required for himself and the escort a porter per man. When this was refused, he changed his tactics, and began to lament bitterly the unavoidable delay. He annoyed me with ceaseless visits, which were spent in harping upon the one string, “When do we march?” At last I forbade all allusion to the subject. In wrath he demanded leave, declaring that he had not come to settle in Africa, and much “excessiveness” to the same effect. He was at last brought to his senses by being summarily turned out of the house for grossly insulting my companion. A reaction then ensued; the Baloch professed penitence, and all declared themselves ready to march or to halt as I pleased. Yet, simulating impatience to depart, they clung to the pleasures of Kazeh; they secretly caused the desertion of the porters, and they never ceased to spread idle reports, vainly hoping that I might be induced to return to the coast.

Finally, Said bin Salim fulfilled at Kazeh Lieut.-Col. Hamerton’s acute prophecy. The Bukini blood of his mother--a Malagash slave--got the better of his Omani descent. I had long reformed my opinion concerning his generosity and kindheartedness, hastily concluded during a short cruise along the coast. “Man’s heart,” say the Arabs, “is known only in the fray, and man’s head is known only on the way.” But though high-flown sentiment and studied courtesy had disappeared with the first days of hardship and fatigue, he preserved for a time the semblance of respectability and respect. Presently, like the viler orders of Orientals, he presumed upon his usefulness, and his ability to forward the Expedition; the farther we progressed from our “_point d’appui_” the coast, the more independent became his manner,--of course it afterwards subsided into its former civility,--and an overpowering egotism formed the motive of his every action. I had imprudently allowed him to be accompanied by the charming Halimah. True to his servile origin, he never seemed happy except in servile society, where he was “king of his company.” At Kazeh, jealous of my regard for Snay bin Amir, and wearied by long evening conversations, where a little “ilm” or knowledge in the shape of history and divinity used to appear,--his ignorance and apathy concerning all things but A. bin B., and B. bin C., who married his son D. to the daughter of E., prevented his taking part in them,--he became first sulky, and then “contrarious.” Formerly he was wont, on the usual occasions, to address a word of salutation to my companion: this ceased, and presently he would pass him as if he had been a bale of cloth. He affected in society the indecorous posture of a European woman stretched upon a sofa, after crouching for months upon his shins,--in fact he was, as the phrase is, “trailing his jacket” for a quarrel.

Through timidity he had been profuse in expending the goods entrusted to his charge, and he had been repeatedly reproved for serving out, without permission, cloth and beads to his children. Yet, before reaching Unyanyembe, I never had reason to suspect him of dishonesty or deceit. At Kazeh, however, he was ordered to sell a keg of gunpowder, before his slaves could purloin the whole. He reported that he had passed on the commission to Snay bin Amir. I also forbade him to issue hire to porters for a return-march from the Lake, having been informed that such was the best way to secure their desertion; and the information proved true enough, as twenty-five disappeared in a single night. He repeatedly affirmed that he had engaged and paid them for the up-march only. When he stood convicted of a double falsehood, he had _not_ spoken about the gunpowder, and he _had_ issued whole hire to several of the porters, I improved the occasion with a mild reproach. The little creature became vicious as a weasel, screamed like a hyæna, declared himself no tallab or “asker,” but an official under his government, and poured forth a torrent of justification. I cut the same short by leaving the room--a confirmed slight in these lands--and left him to rough language on the part of Snay bin Amir. Some hours subsequently he recovered his temper, and observed that “even husband and wife must occasionally have a gird at each other.” Not caring, however, for a repetition of such puerilities, I changed the tone of kindness in which he had invariably been addressed, for one of routine command, and this was preserved till the day of our final parting on the coast.

The good Snay bin Amir redoubled his attentions. His slaves strung in proper lengths, upon the usual palm-fibre, the beads sent up loose from Zanzibar; and he distributed the bales in due proportions for carriage. Our lights being almost exhausted, he made for us “dips,” by ladling over wicks of unravelled “domestics” the contents of a cauldron filled with equal parts of hot wax and tallow. My servant, Valentine, who, evincing uncommon aptitude for cooking, had as yet acquired only that wretched art of burlesquing coarse English dishes which renders the table in Western India a standing mortification to man’s palate, was apprenticed to Mama Khamisi, a buxom housekeeper in Snay’s establishment. There, in addition to his various Goanese accomplishments--making curds and whey, butter, cheese, and ghee; potting fish, pickling onions and limes, and preparing jams and jelly from the pleasant and cooling rosel,--he learned the art of yeasting bread with whey or sour bean-flour (his leathery scones of coarse meal were an abomination to us); of straining honey, of preparing the favourite “Kawurmeh,” jerked or smoked meat chipped up and soused in ghee; of making Firni, rice-jelly, and Halwa, confectionery, in the shape of “Kazi’s luggage,” and “hand-works:” he was taught to make ink from burnt grain; and last, not least, the trick of boiling rice as it should be boiled. We, in turn, taught him the various sciences of bird-stuffing, of boiling down isinglass and ghee, of doctoring tobacco with plantain, heeart, and tea leaves, and of making milk-punch, cigars, and guraku for the hookah. Snay bin Amir also sent into the country for plantains and tamarinds, then unprocurable at Kazeh, and he brewed a quantity of beer and mawa or plantain-wine. He admonished the Baloch and the sons of Ramji to be more careful, as regards conduct and expenditure. He lent me valuable assistance in sketching the outlines of the Kinyamwezi, or language of Unyamwezi, and by his distances and directions we were enabled to lay down the Southern limits, and the general shape of the Nyanza or Northern Lake, as correctly--and the maps forwarded from Kazeh to the Royal Geographical Society will establish this fact--as they were subsequently determined, after actual exploration, by my companion. He took charge of our letters and papers intended for home, and he undertook to forward the lagging gang still expected from the Coast: as the future will prove, his energy enabled me to receive the much wanted reserve in the “nick of time.”

At length, it became apparent that no other porters were procurable at Kazeh, and that the restiff Baloch and the sons of Ramji disdaining Cæsar’s “ite,” required his “venite.” I therefore resolved to lead them, instead of expending time and trouble in driving them, trusting that old habit, and that the difficulties attending their remaining behind would induce them to follow me. After much murmuring, my companion preceded me on the 5th December, and “made a Khambi,” at Zimbili, a lumpy hill, with a north and south lay, and conspicuous as a landmark from the Arab settlements, which are separated from it by a march of two hours. On the third day I followed him, in truth, more dead than alive,--the wing of Azrael seemed waving over my head,--even the movement of the Manchila was almost unendurable. I found cold and comfortless quarters in a large village at the base of Zimbili, no cartel was procurable, the roof leaked, and every night brought with it a furious storm of lightning, wind, and rain. By slow degrees, the Baloch began to drop in, a few of the sons of Ramji, and the donkey-men followed, half-a-dozen additional porters were engaged, and I was recovering strength to advance once more, when the report that our long-expected caravan was halted at Rubuga, in consequence of desertion, rendered a further delay necessary. My companion returned to Kazeh, to await the arrival of the reserve-supplies, and I proceeded onwards to collect a gang for the journey westwards.

At 10 A.M., on the 15th December, I mounted the Manchila, carried by six slaves, hired by Snay bin Amir, from Khamis bin Salim at the rate of three pounds of white beads each, for the journey to Msene. After my long imprisonment, I was charmed with the prospect, a fine open country, with well-wooded hills rolling into blue distance on either hand. A two hours’ ride placed me at Yombo, a new and picturesque village of circular tents, surrounded by plantains and wild fruit-trees. The Mkuba bears an edible red plum, which, though scanty of flesh, as usual, where man’s care is wanting, was found by no means unpalatable. The Metrongoma produces a chocolate-coloured fruit, about the size of a cherry: it is eaten, but it lacks the grateful acid of the Mkuba. The gigantic Palmyra or Borassus, which failed in the barren platform of Ugogo, here re-appears, and hence extends to the Tanganyika Lake.

I halted two days at Yombo: the situation was low and unhealthy, and provisions were procurable in homœopathic quantities. My only amusement there was to watch the softer part of the population. At eventide, when the labours of the day were past and done, the villagers came home in a body, laden with their implements of cultivation, and singing a kind of “dulce domum,” in a simple and pleasing recitative. The sunset hour, in the “Land of the Moon,” is replete with enjoyments. The sweet and balmy breeze floats in waves, like the draught of a fan; the sky is softly and serenely blue; the fleecy clouds, stationary in the upper firmament, are robed in purple and gold, and the beautiful blush, crimsoning the west, is reflected by all the features of earth. At this time, all is life. The vulture soars with silent flight, high in the blue expanse; the small birds preen themselves for the night, and sing their evening hymns; the antelopes prepare to couch in the bush; the cattle and flocks frisk and gamble, whilst driven from their pastures; and the people busy themselves with the simple pleasures that end the day. Every evening there is a smoking party, which particularly attracts my attention. All the feminine part of the population, from wrinkled grandmother to the maiden scarcely in her teens, assemble together, and sitting in a circle upon dwarf stools and logs of wood, apply themselves to their long black-bowl’d pipes.

“Sæpe illæ long-cut vel short-cut flare tobacco
Sunt solitæ pipos.”

They smoke with an intense enjoyment, slowly and deeply inhaling the glorious weed, and exhaling clouds from their nostrils; at times they stop to cool the mouth with slices of raw manioc, or cobs of green maize roasted in the ashes; and often some earnest matter of local importance causes the pipes to be removed for a few minutes, and a clamour of tongues breaks the usual silence. The pipe also requires remark: the bowl is of imperfect material--the clay being half-baked--but the shape is perfect. The African tapering cone is far superior to the European bowl: the former gives as much smoke as possible whilst the tobacco is fresh and untainted, and as little when it becomes hot and unpleasant; the latter acts on the contrary principle. Amongst the fair of Yombo, there were no less than three beauties--women who would be deemed beautiful in any part of the world. Their faces were purely Grecian; they had laughing eyes, their figures were models for an artist, with--

“Turgide, brune e ritondette mamme,”

like the “bending statue that delights the world” cast in bronze. The dress--a short kilt of calabash fibre,--rather set off than concealed their charms, and though destitute of petticoat or crinoline they were wholly unconscious of indecorum. It is a question that by no means can be positively answered in the affirmative, that real modesty is less in proportion to the absence of toilette. These “beautiful domestic animals” graciously smiled when in my best Kinyamwezi I did my devoir to the sex; and the present of a little tobacco always secured for me a seat in the undress circle.

After hiring twenty porters--five lost no time in deserting--and mustering the Baloch, of whom eleven now were present, I left Yombo on the 18th December, and passing through a thick green jungle, with low, wooded, and stony hills rising on the left hand, to about 4000 feet above sea-level, I entered the little settlement of Pano. The next day brought us to the clearing of Mfuto, a broad, populous, and fertile rolling plain, where the stately tamarind flourished to perfection. A third short march, through alternate patches of thin wood and field, studded with granite blocks, led to Irora, a village in Western Mfuto, belonging to Salim bin Salih, an Arab from Mbuamaji, and a cousin of Said bin Mohammed, my former travelling companion, who had remained behind at Kazeh. This individual, a fat, pulpy, and dingy-coloured mulatto, appeared naked to the waist, and armed with bow and arrows: he received me surlily, and when I objected to a wretched cow-shed outside his palisade, he suddenly waxed furious: he raved like a madman, shook his silly bow, and declared that he ignored the name of the Sayyid Majid, being himself as good a “Sultan” as any other. He became pacified on perceiving that his wrath excited nothing but the ridicule of the Baloch, found a better lodging, sent a bowl of fresh milk wherein to drown differences, and behaved on this and a subsequent occasion more like an Arab Shaykh, than an African headman.

On the 22nd December my companion rejoined me, bringing four loads of cloth, three of beads, and seven of brass wire: they formed part of the burden of the twenty-two porters who were to join the Expedition ten days after its departure from the coast. The Hindus, Ladha Damha and Mr. Rush Ramji, after the decease of Lieut.-Colonel Hamerton, had behaved with culpable neglect. The cloth was of the worst and flimsiest description; the beads were the cheap white and the useless black--the latter I was obliged to throw away; and as they sent up the supply without other guard than two armed slaves, “Mshindo” and “Kirikhota,” the consequence was that the pair had plundered _ad libitum_. No letters had been forwarded, and no attention had been paid to my repeated requests for drugs and other stores. My companion’s new gang, levied at Kazeh, affected the greatest impatience. They refused to halt for a day,--even Christmas day. They proposed double marches, and they resolved to proceed by the straight road to Msene. It was deemed best to humour them. They arrived, however, at their destination only one day before my party, who travelled leisurely, and who followed the longer and the more cultivated route.

We left Irora on the 23rd December, and marched from sunrise till noon to the district of Eastern Wilyankuru. There we again separated. On the next day I passed alone through the settlement called Muinyi Chandi, where certain Arabs from Oman had built large Tembe, to serve as barracoons and warehouses. This district supplies the adjoining countries with turmeric, of which very little grows in Unyanyembe. After this march disappeared the last of the six hammals who had been hired to carry the hammocks. They were as unmanageable as wild asses, ever grumbling and begging for “kitoweyo,”--“kitchen;”--constitutionally unfitted to obey an order; disposed, as the noble savage generally is, to be insolent; and, like all porters in this part of the world, unable to carry a palanquin. Two men, instead of four, insisted upon bearing the hammock; thus overburdened and wishing to get over the work, they hurried themselves till out of breath. When one was fagged, the man that should have relieved him was rarely to be found, consequently two or three stiff trudges knocked them up and made them desert. Said bin Salim, the Jemadar, and the Baloch, doubtlessly impressed with the belief that my days were numbered, passed me on the last march without a word--the sun was hot, and they were hastening to shade--and left me with only two men to carry the hammock, in a dangerous strip of jungle where, shortly afterwards, Salim bin Masud, an Arab merchant of Msene, was murdered.

On Christmas day I again mounted ass, and passing through the western third of the Wilyankuru district, was hospitably received by a wealthy proprietor, Salim bin Said, surnamed, probably on account of his stature, Simba, or the Lion, who had obtained from the Sultan Mrorwa permission to build a large Tembe. The worthy and kind-hearted Arab exerted himself strenuously to promote the comfort of his guest. He led me to a comfortable lodging, placed a new cartel in the coolest room, supplied meat, milk, and honey, and spent the evening in conversation with me. He was a large middle-aged man, with simple, kindly manners, and an honesty of look and words which rendered his presence exceedingly prepossessing.