Chapter IX: Visit to Sa’adani, the Copal Field

Non cuivis lectori auditorique placebo:
Lector et auditor non mihi quisque placet.

A heroic treatment of quinine, beginning with 20-grain doses, and ending with two grains, per diem, and a long course of stomachic chiretta—the Kirait which the Goanese drink, flavoured with lime juice, every Sunday before church—induced a convalescence, accompanied by the usual unpleasant sequelæ. The S. West or rainy monsoon, which came in like a lion, had improved my health, but it detained the Expedition at Zanzibar. We utilized the delay by buying outfit, which for economy must be provided before the opening of the trading season; by making arrangements for an escort, and by looking to the hundred impedimenta which appertain to African exploration.

Yet I was possessed by a nervous impatience to be up and doing. During the year of grace 1867 it was proposed to penetrate into the Eastern and Central Regions from all directions. The Escayrac de Lauture enterprise has been already mentioned. Zanzibar also expected an American Expedition. A Major Cotheal, of New York, had visited the coast in his own vessel, with the view of pushing into the interior. Like his many predecessors—Captain Smee for instance—he failed to find the debouchure of the Denok, Vumbo, Gob, Gob-wen, Juba, Webbe Ganana, Govind, Dos Fuegos or Rogues[45] River, which forms the true northern limit of continental Zanzibar, dividing inland the Galla from the Somal, and which the hydrographers have placed in S. lat. 0° 14′ 30″, thus nearly corresponding parallel with the Gaboon. But he had observed a discolouration of the sea, which raised his hopes of being able to measure and survey the mysterious outlet. Despite the labours of Lieut. Christopher, there is still an abundance of work to be done about the embouchures and more upon the upper courses of the ‘Nile of Makdishu’ (Webbe Gamana) and the Juba (Webbe Ganana); whilst the sad loss of Baron von der Decken only increases our curiosity about the latter stream. It is doubtful, even in the present day, whether the mouth of the Juba is dry in the rainless season or not. Major Cotheal’s prospects were kept dark: it was, however, understood that the party would be composed of white men accustomed to endure fatigue and to face danger, escorted by free blacks from the United States, and by natives of the country as guides and porters. All scientific researches and even exact observations were to be postponed, lest they should impede progress: this manner of exploration, which would find scant favour in English eyes, is evidently best fitted to open a way for the physicist through unexplored and possibly dangerous regions. I never doubted that the Anglo-American, familiar with the negro race from his infancy, and strong in nervous temperament, carrying little flesh and comparatively abstemious, would be the best of African explorers, and my subsequent experiences on the west coast of Africa in the Bights of Benin and Biafra, from Cape Palmas to the Gaboon river, have confirmed the belief. Major Cotheal’s exploration, however, was fated to remain in limbo.

An expedition was also proposed at the Cape of Good Hope on a plan recommended by the lamented naturalist, Professor Wahlberg. Several waggons starting simultaneously would separate upon the threshold of the tropics, and, after exploring eastward and westward, would rendezvous at a given place, and confer upon the ways and means of further advance. Nothing appeared more feasible than such a prospect, and the brilliant success of Messrs Livingstone, Murray, and Oswell, then fresh in the public mind, had proved that intertropical Africa could be penetrated with less fatigue and risk of disease from the Cape than from any other point. Dr Wahlberg, however, was killed by an elephant, and his plan was allowed to lie in nubibus.

We left for the interior before Zanzibar Island was visited by the Père Léon d’Avanchers, whose name has since become familiar to geographers: en revauche I met M. Gabrielli de Rivalta, a capuchin of the Lyons Mission, who was proceeding to his head-quarters, the before inaccessible Kaffa country. He had lately learned at Rome that four or five other missioners would be sent to reap the unparalleled harvest reported by Monsignor Guglielmo Massaga, the Vicario Apostolico dei Gallas, who had made that place his home, and who had sent branch establishments to Enarea and Goodroo. Some 40,000 pagans had, it was asserted, embraced Christianity, and conversions were still taking place in legions. Unable to enter Africa viâ Masawah, on account of the religious excitement that burned high amongst the Abyssinians, Father Gabrielli resolved to land at Makdishu, and to march upon Ganana, travelling alone and unarmed, amongst the fiercest tribes of East Africa, the Gallas, and the Somal. The successes which have crowned the efforts of Catholic missioners in these eastern regions reflect honour upon their system, and cast a deep shade upon the desultory individualistic display of Protestant energy. On the West Coast of Africa, however, I found that both had equally and completely failed.

At length, strength and energy returning, I resolved once more to visit the coast, and to collect information upon certain interesting subjects, concerning which the Secretary of the Bombay Geographical Society had (Dec. 8, 1856) forwarded to Government the following remarks:—

‘It will be eminently interesting to know whether the great limestone formation, extending in one vast continuous band from the banks of the Burrumputra to those of the Tagus, and from which Captain Burton forwarded valuable specimens from the Somali country, prevails as far south as the Line, and to what distance it extends into the interior. It will be desirable to ascertain whether the upheaved sea-beach, such as that which forms the esplanade, and is the favourite habitat of the cocoa-nut groves around, prevails along the shores of Africa, and whether, if so, it manifests those signs of a double depression or upheaval which characterize it in most parts of the world.... Of the £300,000 worth of commerce between Eastern Africa and Western India—the principal part being that of Zanzibar—gums and resin-trees form an important part, nearly £20,000 worth being exported from Zanzibar. The most valuable of these are copal and gum Animi, the principal supplies being found under-ground, from which they are washed out by streams and torrents. Like the Dammer of Singapore, and some of the most important gum resins of Australia, they may be regarded as semi-fossils, the produce of forests which have long since disappeared.... We should like to know whether the _Valeria Indica_, which produces it, still abounds as a tree; as also what may have been the extent, what the position and circumstances of the extinct forests, of which it now constitutes the principal trace.... Copal has of late years become so scarce, so much in demand, and so dear, that what was formerly thrown away would probably be considered of value in the market; and there are few of the investigations a traveller can undertake the people of England value so highly as those that can be turned to commercial account. Materially to reduce the price of coach-varnish would probably be considered to entitle Captain Burton to a larger share of the gratitude of his countrymen than the measurement of the elevation of the Mountains of the Moon or the Determination of the Sources of the Nile.’[46]

On May 11, accompanied by Sidi Bombay and by Said bin Salim, with his by no means merry men, I set out in the ‘Mtope’ (the Mud), a small Machua manned by the slaves of Mr Banyan Ramji. Running before a fair wind, and ‘rushed’ by an occasional raffale, we crossed in five hours the Manche that separates Zanzibar from Sa’adani, a trading port on the Continent, nearly parallel with the northern cape of the Island. The settlement is not seen till within the shortest distance, when the mangroves disclose it. The landing-place is bad; if the water is out small craft must lie about half-a-mile from the shore; at flood-tide they round a small sandspit, and enter the shallow, rushy Khor (bay), which passes the settlement. Passengers then disembark in canoes. The site of the village is frontier-land: to the north are the Wazegura savages, and southward, behind ‘Utondwe,’ lie the Wadoe, who are reported by all to have learned cannibalism during their wars with the Wakamba.[47] I should say ‘lay’: these Wadoe have of late years been driven away from their ancient seats by the Wamasai, and like the Waboni, they have occupied the lands on the north bank of the Adi or Sabaki river. The Wakamba, again, have been expelled, and the Wazeramo, a fierce and unmanageable tribe, has now transferred itself to the interior. The point or headland bounding the bay southwards, and giving a name to the little maritime province whose southern limit is Whinde (Uende of M. Rebmann), is still known as Utondwe, and is said to show ruins of habitations. Thus Watondwi, which Mr Cooley translates ‘picking-grounds,’ i. e. places where shell-fish are gathered, would mean the people of Utondwe. Nothing can be more misleading than such expressions as ‘the kingdom of Atondo,’ used by Do Couto and others. These royalties are mere districts ruled by petty headmen, of which each port-village has one, potent within their own bounds or palisades, but powerless a mile beyond them. They correspond with the River Kings and Hill Kings of Guinea, the ridiculous King Jacks and King Boys of the Western Coast—both degraded by intercourse with superior races, these with Europeans, those with the Arabs. ‘Otondo’ is mentioned in the Portuguese inscription over the fort gate of Mombasah; and in 1528 its Shaykh came to the assistance of Nuno da Cunha with five or six thousand black archers, probably slaves and savages, who are described as very agile and trained to war.

Sa’adani stands upon a swampy green flat, defended, as are most of these places, against the sea, which is apparently but little below its level, by a high sandbank and natural dykes. From Panga-ni, southward, the littoral suddenly falls flat, becoming an alluvial plain of green swamps, cut by hundreds of mangrove creeks: it is backed by higher ground, the blue line seen from Zanzibar Island, and the habitat of the wilder races. The harbours are mostly open roads or inlets, into which only native craft can run, whilst square-rigged ships must lie three miles in the offing, and much exposed. The deeper water abounds in fish, and the tides retire 12 to 13 feet, leaving a broad expanse of naked mud. Constant troubles with neighbours have caused this port-village to be surrounded by a strong stockade of tree-trunks, and have greatly reduced its extent. The hundred huts of thatch, wattle and dab, may now contain 700 to 800 souls, including a Banyan, a Kasimi Arab, and a stray Baloch: a few years ago it could turn out 300 matchlocks. The two stone mosques, which the people declare to be ancient, are in ruins. Here the Wasawahili, who in a thin fringe line the whole coast, appear to be healthier than on the Island of Zanzibar. As usual, there is less rain, and the little Msika is often wanting. They send at all seasons foot caravans to Nguru—the Ngu of M. Rebmann—a hilly region seven to eight days’ march, nearly due west. The normal ventures are beads, cloth, and wires, and the returns are ivory and slaves, with smaller items, such as rhinoceros’ horn and various hides. The trading parties are absent about six weeks, when no news of them will be held good news: formerly the wild Wanguru used to visit the coast, till deterred by Moslem ‘Avanies.’ The village exports sheep and ghi, holcus, maize, and especially copal. A little cotton (pamba) for domestic use is grown on the sandy landward slope of the natural dyke, about one mile from the sea: the shrub is allowed to run to wood. A few words upon cotton-growing in Zanzibar and East Africa generally may not be misplaced here.

The mountains of Harar, that ancient capital of the Adel Empire, are a granitic mass covered with red argillaceous soil: they produce in plenty a fine, long-stapled, firm and heavy cotton, with peculiarly flexible and tenacious filament. Yarn is hand-spun by the women with two wooden bobbins, and the primitive loom is worked by both sexes: the result is a cloth, warm and soft as silk, which surpasses in beauty and durability the vapid produce of our power-looms, as much as the perfect hand of man excels the finest machinery. The ‘Tobe’ of Harar consists of a double length of 11 × 2 cubits, with a bright scarlet border, and the value of a good article even in the city is $8. The laziness of the people and the risks of the journey, 15 days of wild travel to the coast, prevent any exportation of made cloth, and years must elapse before the obstacles are removed.

The coast of Eastern Intertropical Africa produces everywhere, as far as my wanderings extended, a small quantity of cotton now used only for domestic purposes. The rich ochreous clays and the black earths fat with decayed vegetation, cause the neglected shrub to grow luxuriantly. The mountains of Usumbara north of the Panga-ni river are peculiarly fitted by climate and geological formation for growing the shrub. I afterwards found it in Unyamwezi planted here and there amongst the huts, and in N. lat. 4° Capt. Grant observed the Gossypium punctatum, a perennial whose produce was woven into women’s aprons. There is no reason to despair of producing in East Africa a cotton which might rival the celebrated growths of Algeria and Egypt; at present, however, as Dr Livingstone’s second Expedition proved, the conditions of export are far inferior to those of Abeokuta and of Accra a whole generation ago.

Said bin Salim having formerly been Governor of Sa’adani, we were received by the crowd with all the honours. The Chief Bori was absent, visiting Kipombui, a village lying a few miles north: he was preparing to fight one Abdullah Mákitá, a Msegeju chief living near Tanga, and his intimate relations with Muigni Khatib of Usumbara would allow him free passage along the coast. He is famed through all the country-side for a mighty soul contained in a little body, and for a princely generosity which fills his house with hungry feeders. At present he is on bad terms with his brother Mohammed, Chief of Urumwi, a settlement three hours to the south, and the latter lately burned down Sa’adani. Here when a Diwan is poor he has only to attack a wealthy neighbour, drive off a hundred head of slaves, and send to market those not wanted as home-hands—this eternal state of feud of course greatly demoralizes the people.

One of Bori’s many cousins led us to the ‘Government House,’ which was surrounded with a wall of stone and lime: he found lodgings for us in a large hut and a broad verandah; after some delay we were fed with dates and coffee, with rice and cream pressed from pounded cocoa-nut meat, and with fowls and mutton, the victim being a dun-coloured sheep with a long fat tail, very unlike the Somali breed. In the evening there was a Ngoma Khu, the normal dance of honour, preluded by the loud singing of the women inside the house, and by the warning sound of three drums. The corps de ballet, a dozen strong, young and old, then defiled before us. Their heads were clean shaven, or half grown, or covered with short stiff curls intensely black and forming the least grotesque of African coiffures: the dress was an indigo-dyed stuff with large red stripes and border extending to the feet, and round the bosom a white cloth or some coloured cotton contrasted with the blue. Presently the ballerinas formed line and divided into two parties, facing inwards; the performance consisted of trampling and twirling with heads inclined on one side, and eyes modestly fixed upon the ground, whilst palms were kneaded as if washing

‘—with invisible soap,
In imperceptible water.’

A passing sail drew off all the spectators as though they had been Cornish wreckers in the olden times, who had successfully fastened their lantern to a bullock’s horns. The most interesting of the crowd were the sylvan men in skin aprons stained with Mimosa-bark: their widely opened mouths proved that curiosity was reciprocal. Some of the younger girls had the beauty of negrodom, and none appeared to be bégueules: here the people pass all the time not given to trade in love-making and intrigue. As in the Bombay of 1857, damages have been made cheap and feasible for the co-respondent: an affair with a Diwan’s wife costs five slaves, with a ‘common person’ one slave, with the chattel of another man five to six cloths, and so on.

The day after our arrival was a forced halt, the copal-diggers had set out in another direction before dawn, and no donkey-saddle was to be found: the next, however, was more propitious. Led by Mánji, the Akida’ao, Mtu-Mkuba, Mukaddam, or headman of the gang, we walked west over an alluvial plain of blue earth, veiled with white sand, a narrow path, threading the dwarf plantations of maize and manioc, of cucumber, pulse (Lobiya), and the castor plant growing everywhere wild. Crossing, after some 200 yards, a sandy Nullah, which supplies sweet water, we came to a rank and reeking, a thorny and cloth-tearing vegetation, and to thick, coarse spear-grass, burned down in the dry weather: this is the home of the spur-fowl, the Kudu, and other antelopes. Three miles (by pedometer) of damp trudging, a shower having fallen last night, placed us before the first Msandarúsi,[48] or copal tree (Hymenœa verrucosa. Boivin). It was growing in a thicket upon a flat covered with Mimosas, Hyphœnas, and various palms, the cocoa being absent. The specimen, though young, was some 30 feet tall, and measured about a yard in girth: it was not in flower nor in fruit; the latter, according to the people, is a berry like a grain of Muhindi (maize). Climbing up the straight, smooth trunk to secure specimens of wood, bark, and leaf, I was pitilessly assaulted by the Maji-Moto (boiling water), a long ginger-coloured and semi-transparent ant, whose every bite drew blood. From the trunk and on the ground I picked up specimens of the gum which exudes from the bole and boughs when injured by elephants, or other causes. This is the Chakazi, raw copal, whence the local ‘Jackass copal:’ it has rarely any ‘gooseskin,’ and it floats, whilst the older formation sinks, in water. Valueless to us, it produces the magnificent varnishes of China and Japan. In a paper lately read before the Linnæan Society, my friend Dr Kirk, H. B. M.’s Acting Consul at Zanzibar, declared that the fossil resin when first dug up shows no trace of the characteristic ‘goose-skin,’ which appears only when the surface is cleaned by brushing. I believe that this phenomenon is shown simply by removing the sand which fills up the interstices. But it is hard to make anything of Captain Grant’s statement—‘the true copal-gum tree is a climber, which ascends to a great height among the forest trees, and finally becomes completely detached from the original root, when the copal exudes from the extremities of these detached roots.’ He must allude, not to the well-known Msandarúsi (mentioned by M. Guillain, i. 24, ‘le M’sandarouss est un bois dur et résineux, qui donne aussi des pièces de mâture’), but to some other and unknown genus.

A fourth mile of gradual rise brought us to a distinctly-defined sea-beach, swelling about 100 feet above water, and dimly showing Zanzibar Island to the S. East. The material was sand with a slight admixture of vegetable humus: the ridge top was crowned with luxuriant thicket, and a fine of water-washed quartz pebbles defined the flank. I afterwards found the same at Muhonyera in valley of the Kinga-ni river, where the pebbles strewed the northern slope of the hillock upon which we were encamped. Captain Speke (Journal, &c., chap. ii.) inspected it on his second journey at the desire of the Royal Geographical Society, to see if it gave indications of a ‘raised sea-beach,’ and came to the conclusion that ‘no mind but one prone to discovering sea-beaches in the most unlikely places could have supposed for a moment that one existed here.’ But did he know what a raised sea-beach was, even had he seen it? He adds, ‘there are no pebbles;’ my only reply is that I picked up specimens, and I find in my Field Book, now deposited with the Royal Geographical Society, ‘Muhonyera’ ... ‘elevated, sea-beach, lines of pink, quartzose rounded pebbles.’

On this beach, as on the flat below, were frequent traces of manual labour: the tree, however, is not common,—only two appeared, within half a mile. Mánji proceeded to show me the digging process, which was of the simplest: he crowed a hole with a sharpened stick in the loose sand, and disclosed several bits of the bitumenized and semi-mineral gum. One of the slaves sank a pit about three feet deep: the earth became redder as he descended, crimson fibrous matter appeared, and presently the ground seemed to be half sand, half comminuted copal. There was neither blue clay nor tree-roots as in Zanzibar Island, nor did I find this formation in any of the wells or excavations examined upon the coast. According to the guide, the only subsoil is this ruddy arenaceous matter: his people, however, never dig lower than a man’s waist. They use the Jembe, or little iron hoe, and when ‘grist for the mill’ is wanted they form small gangs, who proceed to the ‘jungle’ for two or three days, carrying with them the necessaries of life.

The whole of this Zangian coast produces the copal of commerce: specimens have been brought to Zanzibar from the northern limits of Makdishu and Brava to Kilwa and Cape Delgado—by rough computation 800 miles. It extends, here three hours’ march, there two to three days, into the interior. On the mainland it costs half-price of what is paid upon the Island, and the indolent Wasawahili of the villages cannot be induced to dig whilst a handful of grain remains in the bin. I found it impossible to ‘trace the position and circumstances of the extinct forests, of which copal constitutes the principal remains:’ such an investigation would have entailed at least two months’ voyaging along, and dwelling upon, the fever-haunted seaboard.

I was also obliged to leave to the late secretary of the Bombay Geographical Society the task of remedying the host of evils that at present beset copal-digging. The first is the Commercial treaty of 1839, by whose tenth article H. H. the Sayyid engages ‘not to permit the establishment of any monopoly or exclusive privilege of sale within his dominions, except in the articles of ivory and gum copal on that part of the East Coast of Africa, from the port of Tangate, situated in about 5½ degrees of S. latitude, to the port of Quiloa, lying in about 7 degrees south of the equator.’ The U. S. Commercial treaty of 1833 contains no such clause, but the French treaty, concluded in 1844, thus modifies (Art. xi.) the prohibition to traffic which appears in the English treaty. ‘But if the English or Americans or any other Christian nation should carry goods, the French shall in like manner be at liberty to do so.’ With the Arabs such matters are easily managed for the benefit of both parties: when, however, European jealousies complicate the affair there is little hope of their being brought to a successful issue.

Moreover, Europeans cannot do manual labour upon the Zanzibarian seaboard. Hindustanis would fear to face, not only the fever, but the savage. A gang of 500 negroes from Kilwa or Arabs from Hazramaut taught to use moderate-sized mattocks, not the child’s plaything now in fashion, well paid and kept at regular work, would soon, by their own exertions and by example, stimulate the copal digging into liveliness or break up the unnatural monopoly. But the Sayyid’s government would object to such occupation of its territory; the Wasawahili Diwans would require propitiation; and in view of desertion, it would be necessary to make specific contracts with the chiefs of tribes, villages, and harbours. It is to be feared that such an operation would not pay, commercially speaking, though every hand might produce, as it has been calculated he can, 12 to 15 lbs. per diem. Willingly, therefore, as I would have won that highest of meeds, the gratitude of my fellow-countrymen by reducing the price of coach-varnish, I had fairly to confess that it was beyond my powers. The sole remedy is Time—perhaps an occasional East African expedition might be adhibited to advantage.

As regards the limestone band, of which I had forwarded specimens from the Somali country, no traces were found till after leaving the modern corallines and sandstones of the coast which possibly overlie it. Our march to the Usagara mountains (5000 feet high) was more fortunate: a fossil bulimus was picked up in the Western counterslope of those Eastern Ghauts, about 3200 feet above sea-level, and calcareous nodules of weather-worn ‘Kunker’ were remarked in more than one place. Captain Speke (Journal, chap. ii.) afterwards saw at Kidunda of Uzaramo on the left of the Kingani valley ‘pisolithic limestone in which marine fossils were observable.’

Nothing of interest now remained for me at Sa’adani. Before earliest dawn, when Venus hung like a lamp between dark sky and darker earth, and before the lovely flush of morning had lit up the Eastern sea, we embarked, and enjoyed a lively sail. Whilst the mainland was clear, the Island of Zanzibar had hid itself in a mass of dark dense cloud, and presently it sent to meet us heavy leaden-coloured rain apparently solid as a stone wall. We had sundry gusts and dead calms, till at last a light breeze wafted us once more into port.

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Footnote 45:

Denok is the Galla name of the stream, probably from Danesha, a
townlet or encampment on the right bank of the stream, some three
miles from the sea. Vumbo is the Kisawahili term. The Somal call it
Gob, ‘the junction’ (hence the Juba of the Arabs, who cannot pronounce
the letter G), and Gob-wen, ‘the great junction,’ a name also given to
the settlement Danesha: hence the Hinduized form Govind. Webbe (river)
Ganana (bifurcation) is derived from a village high up the stream. The
Portuguese called it Rio dos Fuegos from the number of fires, probably
of fishermen: the English, ‘Rogues River,’ a term which might be
applied to all the streams on this coast.

Footnote 46:

I have reprinted the rest of the paper in my preface to a Memoir on
the Lake Regions of Central Equatorial Africa.—Journal Royal
Geographical Society, xx. 1860.

Footnote 47:

It has been remarked by Dr Beke (Transactions of the Royal
Geographical Society, vol. xvii. p. 74), that hereabouts is the
position assigned by Ptolemy to his Anthropophagi, living around the
Barbaric Gulf, and by El Mas’udi to the men-eating Zenj—a curious
coincidence. I am convinced that all the negro tribes now settled upon
the East and West coasts of Intertropical Africa have migrated, or
rather have gravitated, from the interior within a few centuries, and
that the process is still in active operation. Whatever the Wamakua
Menschen-fresser may have been, the Wadoe seem to have adopted
cannibalism of late years, in terrorem. So Tarik, the Arab invader of
Spain, when fighting his way between Bœtis and the Tagus, ordered his
men to cook (but not to eat) the flesh of slain Christians.

Footnote 48:

From the Arab Sandarus, which their pharmacopœia applies to the
transparent resin Sandaraca or Sandarach. Our copal is a corruption of
the Mexican Kopali—any gum. It is called anime or animi in the London
market, and by the workman French varnish. The copals of Mexico, of
New Zealand (popularly termed Cowace copal), and of the West African
coast, are inferior kinds. The ‘Damar,’ or gum found about Cape
Delgado, floats in water, and may be unripe copal washed out by the
wet season.