Chapter XIV

THROUGH THE FORESTS OF KIMAWENZI AND THE COUNTRY OF ROMBO.

To have retraced my steps to Maraṅu, now that my residence near the snow was at an end, would have been simply madness. I had made use of the Sultan as far as he could aid my mission, and now to re-enter his dominions and place myself voluntarily in his power would be nothing less than walking into a trap from which an exit could only be obtained by an enormous ransom. According to Čaga fashion I should simply be kept as a hostage till I had made good my promises and induced Sir John Kirk to satisfy the utmost demand of my greedy captor. Consequently I cared little for the unknown risks of a new road, provided I fell not again into the _cul-de-sac_ from which I had issued safely to ascend the mountain. Moreover, I wished to see something of the eastern flank of Kilima-njaro; so after much consultation of my map and discussion with my head-men I fixed on a track running round the base of Kimawenzi and descending to the plain through Rombo, past the crater-lake, Čala, and along the banks of the Lumi river, which flows through Taveita.

During the whole time of our stay on the upper slopes of Kilima-njaro our native guides from Maraṅu had remained with us, of course receiving pay for their employment. They always believed that we should return with them to their grasping Sultan, and I kept them in ignorance of my real plans, intending quietly to part company with them where our two roads diverged, and not forewarn them of my determination to avail myself of another route back to Taveita. Together we started, therefore, when all had been made ready; and leaving our alpine settlement with its grassy slopes and forests of arboreal heaths, we took the path running eastwards round the upper slopes of the mountain. Descending a few hundred feet we found ourselves in comparatively dense and luxuriant forest, with a rich undergrowth, contrasting strongly with the bleak, grassy steppes only a trifle higher in altitude. Further on we arrived at the old camping-place of our former upward journey, at a height of 9000 feet. Here we remained to rest and eat our midday meal, gathering up our energies for the rather critical task that lay before us; for, having resolved on no account to return to Maraṅu, we must now part company with the men who had hitherto led us, and, relying in future on our own powers of pathfinding, strike out an independent route to the desired goal. As my head-men were somewhat diffident of their own qualities in “fore-louping” (as the Boers call it in the south), I undertook to lead the caravan back to Taveita by compass and map. Accordingly, little heeding the cries and mocking laughter of our guides, we started confidently along a faintly-marked path running eastward. At first all went well, but soon the path died away, and not daring to stop or hesitate, I plunged boldly into the trackless bush. The men followed meekly, but the absence of any road rendered their progress very trying. After about an hour of struggling through the rank forest undergrowth, during which I keenly felt my responsibility, we emerged on a little open grassy patch. Here all, uninvited, put down their loads, and very free criticism on our mode of travel was uttered. To add to our disagreeables, incessant rain had been falling since two o’clock. Whilst stopping here to rest and hold a consultation, like a despotic monarch who feels his power threatened and seeks to appease his subjects by granting them a constitution, I invited all the men to take part in our deliberations, and suggest the best course to be followed. At this juncture the native guides arrived, having followed in our footsteps, anxious to see the result of our self-guidance. Wishing to transfer my responsibility to other shoulders, I offered them a present of cloth if they would lead us through the trackless forest to the precincts of Rombo; whence I knew we could find our way unaided to Taveita. They consented, and once more we entered the dusky woods, following a zigzag course by means of the rough paths which elephants had just made. Often the long-stemmed flowers, and crushed, stained grass would be slowly rising up again erect from the prostrate position into which they had been trampled by the feet of the cumbrous proboscidians, and their smoking dung would bestrew the track, showing how recently these lords of the forest had preceded us. Indeed, from time to time they would make their presence known by sonorous trumpeting, but as they were quite aware of our proximity they took good care to conceal their huge bodies. The undergrowth was so dense that you might have touched an elephant in your gropings before you saw him; but above this dense tangle of six or seven feet in height rose the straight smooth trunks of superb trees; indeed, the timber I saw here was exceptionally fine.

The gloom of the forest was intensified by the enormous masses of orchilla-weed which grew thickly on the upper branches of the trees, in such a manner as to suggest a grey-green cloth being thrown over the foliage. The density of the woodland growth was almost appalling; we felt like insects creeping and twining through the interstices of the mighty trunks. As we preferred to go whither the elephants had forced a way, our course was naturally an erratic one, and several times the men lay down in despair to pant and rest, declaring that night would still find us groping in the forest maze—nay, that should the guides maliciously desert us, we might wander for ever in this leafy labyrinth till we either perished at the hands of skulking robbers or fell an easy prey to angry elephants or hungry leopards. In vain I pointed to my compass and said that should the guides fail us, _that_ was an unerring pathfinder; the men shook their heads despondently and said it might be in “Ulaya”—_my_ country—but in the land of the savages—“Ušenzi”—it availed nothing. I must confess the dull green gloom of the forest was very oppressive. The mists of the mountain permeated the foliage and a continual moisture dripped down on us. We were all wetted through every covering. Our clothes were ponderous with absorbed water—it was fatiguing to stagger under their weight. Disagreeable noises—all very easy to account for, but full of vague terror to my superstitious following—broke the stillness of the rank depths of vegetation wherein we stumbled and crept along. The hyraxes uttered their thrilling, half-human, wailing cry. Unseen birds sounded their sonorous notes like a tolling bell. Ear-piercing shrieks came from some hunted monkey, pursued, maybe, by a leopard. Elephants sent their discordant nasal trumpeting vibrating harshly through the glades. Each porter, as he clutched his load with one hand and with the other pushed aside the interwoven boughs, turned his head uneasily from side to side, dreading the sudden rising from the bush of some terrible unimagined foe.

Strangers to this tremulous suspense, the Maraṅu guides hacked away a bush here, pushed aside a branch there, leapt over fallen tree-trunks, slid down glissades of sodden earth, glided through thorny groves, and paying no heed to our sighs and groans, our pleadings for repose, our cruel stumbles and headlong falls, passed imperturbably through the trackless woods, and cared seemingly little whether we followed them or not. Nevertheless at whatever cost we kept them in sight, and at length to our universal relief quitted this gloomy region of dense, dank forest at about half-past five in the afternoon, and emerged quite suddenly and unexpectedly upon a beautiful parklike country of grassy hillocks, undulating plains, running streams, ferny hollows, and tidy copses. Hereabouts we camped out, and I, ravished with the beauty of the scenery and with the magnificence of the view (for I was still at an altitude of 8500 feet, and could see far and wide round the mountain), set myself to work to create in imagination a fair city of civilization which should rise on these grassy slopes and dominate the cultivable lands below. Here, on these two hillocks, I would build my twin forts, and here should be my terraced vineyards, there cornfields and gardens, and there a handsome stone house, my preliminary palace. As I mused thus, the sinking sun emerged from a curtain of cloud, and shed a wonderful rosy radiance over the beautiful scene. The distant valley of the Ruvu, with its sinuous lines of green forest, the mountain mass of Ugweno, with hills and hillocks in all directions, the nearer forests, the natural lawns sloping downwards towards the cultivated zone; and, lastly, the awful, jagged, snow-streaked and spotted Kimawenzi rising to the north—all were irradiated with a tender, smiling light, the very shadows of which were attenuated and softened. Then, until purple darkness fell upon the scene, I stood on one of the seven hills of my African Rome, and pondered on the possibilities of its existence.

On the succeeding day we discovered early in the morning that our guides had really and actually deserted us, so we were left entirely to our own resources for finding the way to Taveita. However, I was confident, and the men scarcely less so, for no matter how distant our goal might be, we at least could see it in the valley before us. Nevertheless, not wishing to pursue a course which would lead us through Mamba, Mwika, or the inhabited regions on the south-western flank of Kimawenzi, I was obliged to direct myself more to the northward, and consequently out of the shortest route to Taveita. We travelled for hours through a delightful country made by Nature for a European settlement, and singularly English in look, with open grassy spaces, which seemed in the distance like ruddy cornfields, and shady woods and copses full of fine timber. Plenty of running streams of clear water intersected this gently sloping, almost level plateau, which, although such a tempting Arcadia, was entirely uninhabited, save by buffaloes and elephants. The average elevation of this country was between 8000 feet and 9000 feet, and the temperature, consequently, almost cool, ranging from forty-three degrees at night to seventy degrees in the midday warmth. After some four hours’ walking from our camp, we crossed the long ridge that marks the southern flank of Kimawenzi, and began to descend the eastern slope of the mountain. Soon we emerged on a kind of heathlike country, and then looked forth on a splendid view stretching from Mwika to the mountains of Bura and Ukambani (the Kiulu range), with Lake ǰipé on one hand and the River Tzavo on the other. At our feet lay the banana groves of the inhabited belt of Useri and Rombo.

To the latter we directed our descending steps, and soon encountered in the bush some of its stray inhabitants, a savage-looking set, probably posted there to give notice of attack from the dreaded Mandara, who has occasionally visited the country on his slave-raiding expeditions. These men fled precipitately at our approach, and raised a cry of warning to the inhabitants below, the result being that on entering their territory we found them armed to the teeth, and resolved to resist our further approach. After a little parleying—which was conducted under difficulties, for they clearly spoke a very different dialect to the ordinary Ki-čaga tongue—we gave a small present in cloth, and requested to be shown the road to Taveita. They accepted my gift somewhat sullenly, and made no move to guide us through their country. However, holding the men well in hand, I quietly pursued our downward journey, always keeping in view the distant green streaks in the valley below, which marked the windings of the River Lumi. Our progress was repeatedly hindered and occasionally stopped by the ever-increasing and turbulent force of savages who pressed upon our flanks, clamouring for a division of our goods. “Ngubo! Ngubo!” was their sole cry, and an archaic one, for “Ngubo” is the oldest known form of a widespread Bantu word for cloth or covering. In Zulu it is “Ngubo” as the Wa-rombo have it, but in most other East African tongues it is “Nguo” and “Nguwo.”

I flung them a few yards of red cloth as a present to their sultan. This acted like the articles which are thrown to pursuing wolves from the inmates of a hunted sledge—it served for a moment to delay their oncoming, and I had time to form my somewhat scattered men into line and press resolutely on towards the plain. The natives followed with increased hostility, mistaking our resolute retreat for a cowardly flight. As a matter of fact I did not much fear them in spite of their numbers, as they carried no guns and were but armed with ill-made spears, so that in case of hostilities I could doubtless have slaughtered many; but my anxiety the whole time I lived on Kilima-njaro was to avoid war and bloodshed. Although in a pitched battle you may easily gain the advantage, yet the news that you have resorted to violent methods to attain your end spreads through a district like wildfire, and everywhere you are received with deep distrust or open enmity. I am of the opinion of Mr. Thomson that it is preferable to suffer many indignities sooner than be the first to shed blood. I also agree with him that it is insanity to travel about Africa unarmed. Never anywhere was that saying truer, “Si vis pacem para bellum.” So we held on our way resolutely and quietly, paying no heed to the verbal provocations of the Wa-rombo. When at length we emerged on the open country, I turned and saluted them with some very vigorous terms in Ki-čaga, and they for a while dispersed; afterwards for some distance hanging on our heels like hyenas ready to snap up any loiterer or lag-behind.

The country of Rombo, from what I could see of it, is not very attractive in its natural features. Indeed, I was informed afterwards that its unhappy people, harried on all sides by Wa-čaga and Masai, were only allowed to live there because the land was not worth taking possession of. The rainfall, so abundant and constant on other parts of the mountain, is here strangely and partially deficient. The perennial watercourses flowing from the base of Kimawenzi either turn to the south-east or north-east, thus neglecting the due-eastern slope of the mountain, on which Rombo is situated. True, the land is deeply scored and intersected by a few profound ravines, but these are but the beds of occasional torrents which flow only after heavy rains in the uplands. The River Lumi, even, dries up where it nears Rombo, and its flow, apparently, reissues farther on from an underground channel. The aspect of the country is very dismal. Poor little withered plantations of parched cereals or groves of stumpy, dwarfed bananas mark the few attempts at cultivation; and outside these, there is little but stony gorges scattered with thorny vegetation in their dry depths, and stony hills and rolling plateaux sparsely clothed with long, dry, yellow grass. Yet, unprepossessing though this land may be, it is likely to be an important district in the opening up of Kilima-njaro. Not only is it nearest to the approach from the coast, but it offers the shortest cut to the magnificent uninhabited regions lying all round the mountain between 6000 feet and 11,000 feet, which present the most favourable conditions for European settlements. In all other parts of the lower slopes of Kilima-njaro you meet with populous and arrogant little states, which at any rate need much subsidizing before they consent to your passage through their territories; whereas in Rombo the population is sparse, and the natives are poor savages unarmed with anything more formidable than ill-made spears, and unable to seriously oppose the march of a small and resolute force. A little kindness would soon win them over, especially if they were protected against the raids of slave-hunters.

All through this somewhat trying day we had never paused in our descent to eat or drink. We were agreed that no halt would be satisfactory till we reached the banks of the River Lumi—“our river,” as we affectionately called it—and camped by its running waters. As we slowly wound our way over stony hillocks and grassy downs, followed by the waspish Wa-rombo, our gaze concentrated itself on the distant line of dark green forest which curved across the yellow plain like a narrow ribbon, ending in the great blot of verdure which marked the site of Taveita.

On our way we had an interesting view of Čala, a little lake filling up one of the minor craters on the mountain-side.

About seven in the evening we reached the banks of the Lumi only to find, to our cruel disappointment, it was absolutely devoid of water. In dumb despair we gazed on its grey boulders and parched sand. Then a little reflection convinced me that we were needlessly despondent. I had, in my previous rambles, followed the Lumi to within a few miles of where we had just arrived, and left it still a flowing river; consequently a little further on water must be found. So again we took up our burthens and limped wearily along the banks of the stream. After an hour’s tramp, one of my men gave a cry of delight and pointed to a stagnant pool of green water in the river-bed. All but myself rushed down and drank greedily, but I preferred restraining my thirst till we obtained a purer fluid. Soon the pools in the dry stream-course became more frequent, then a tiny thread of water began to flow, and at length the whole river, as it were, issued ready-made from the earth. Evidently during the dry season the Lumi filters underground for part of its course and is only a visible river after the rains.

Fig. 60.—Lake Čala.
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Finding another of those charming peninsulas so often described in these experiences—a lovely glade with spreading trees and smooth turf, nearly surrounded by a loop of the stream—we resolved to make our camp here. Fortunately a brilliant moon dispelled the darkness and materially aided our work. The neck of dry land connecting us with the outer plain was carefully cut off with a formidable hedge of thorns, and secure in our isolated camp, we might disregard the prowling Wa-rombo who still skulked without. A guard was set, but no attack disturbed our heavy slumbers. However, the next day we had no sooner started than bands of savages began to form on the rising slopes of the mountain and came running towards us at a half-trot. This time matters looked serious. There were men armed with guns as well as Wa-rombo with spears and shields. The history of it was this (as I afterwards learned). When our guides had deserted us halfway to Rombo they had hastened back to Maraṅu to inform their master of my breach of faith. Resolved now to strip me of all my goods and avenge ancient grudges, the young chief despatched an army of a hundred men armed with Sniders to intercept me and crush my little force. They never imagined I could find my way alone, and expected to encounter me still wandering hopelessly in the forests of Kimawenzi. However, on arriving at my former sleeping-place it was ascertained that I had taken the direction of Rombo. To Rombo, therefore, they came, and angrily questioned its inhabitants. These savages informed the Maraṅu soldiers that I had forced my way through their country that very day and was now camped by the Lumi. At earliest dawn the Maraṅu and Rombo hordes came in search of us, hoping to catch the caravan on the march and surprise it when the porters should be scattered singly along the track. We were, however, already prepared for a possible attack, and walked forward across the plain in a compact body of forty resolute men. As soon as it was seen that the enemy was gaining on us I sent all the porters carrying burthens to the front, and assembled in their rear those who were well armed and acted as guards. In this order we continued our march. When within a hundred yards the foremost men of Maraṅu called on me to stop and parley. I bade the porters who were loaded to walk on slowly along the track whilst I and my guards halted to hear what the enemy had to say. The parleying, however, was but a ruse to gain time. No sooner had I turned towards the foe, to question them, than they started up from their recumbent position and fired a volley at us with their guns. Although the bullets went harmlessly whistling over our heads, I was enraged at this treachery and saw now it was high time that I taught them a lesson. Too much forbearance would seem to them timidity. So I gave the word and we took careful aim and fired. The savages had already thrown themselves flat to await our return fire; nevertheless two of them were wounded. Then as we advanced for a further discharge, the entire force rose to its feet and fled precipitately, and we naturally did not trouble to pursue. The entire result of this encounter was that one of my men had been slightly wounded by a Rombo lance and (as we afterwards ascertained) one Maraṅu soldier received a scalp wound and another had his arm broken by a bullet. Then we resumed our march and ultimately reached Taveita without any further incident.

Here I rejoiced to find all well and thriving. Abdallah had purchased five young ostriches, which, together with my Muscovy ducks, pigeons, fowls, goats, and sheep, made up a curious farmyard. A large space had been cleared and sown with crops, and a tall fence surrounded my domain. The day following my arrival I purchased seven more ostriches at an ell of cloth apiece; thus hoping to lay the foundation of an ostrich farm. After three days of rest I set out on a trip which I had meant to extend to the northern side of Kilima-njaro, but owing to the smallness of my band of followers I was not able to succeed, as the Masai were prepared to give trouble, and I had not goods enough to satisfy their demands. I penetrated first to Useri, a Čaga state on the north-eastern slope of Kimawenzi, but the Sultan of that place refused resolutely to see me, alleging that I was a powerful magician (_teste_ those never-to-be-forgotten fireworks!), and would certainly bewitch him if we came in visual contact. Nevertheless, he did not wish to quarrel with me, and gave his subjects permission to trade. I remained here three days, and bought provisions, skins, rhinoceros horns, and two tusks of ivory. Had I had the goods with me for barter I might have traded advantageously in the last commodity, for the Wa-seri not only obtain many tusks from the elephant pitfalls which they make in their country, but also buy it from the Endorobo,[31] or helot tribes of the Masai, who camp in the vicinity of Useri at certain seasons of the year. I proceeded about four miles further in the direction of Kimangélia, but received the news from a retreating Swahili caravan that the Masai in the vicinity of that place had quarrelled with the traders and refused to allow any caravan to pass them. As I was not strong enough to force my way, I returned once more to Taveita and busied myself with collecting in the vicinity.

I also received a deputation of Maraṅu and Rombo people, who came to make peace after our skirmish of the week before. They declared it had arisen through a misapprehension of my intentions. They now feared that having offended me I might bewitch their land from a distance, and wished to exchange presents, because I was a powerful magician, who turned aside the bullets and spears of his enemies. I laughed at all pretensions to supernatural power, but tried to explain that it was always silly to quarrel with white men, who must get the better of any struggle, not because they practised witchcraft, but because they had better guns than black men and knew how to use them. I was glad to hear that no lives were lost, and would willingly make friends. Accordingly I accepted a small bullock they had brought and gave them in return gay cloths and bags of beads with which they retreated joyfully, extolling the power and generosity of the white man, who never made slaves.