CHAPTER XXXIV. TO THE ENGLISH MISSION STATION, SOUTH END OF VICTORIA NYANZA.
Ankori and Karagwé under two aspects—Karagwé; and the Alexandra Nile—Mtagata Hot Springs—A baby rhinoceros, captured by the Nubians, shows fight in camp—Disappearance of Wadi Asmani—The Pasha’s opinion of Captain Casati—Surgeon Parke and the pigmy damsel—Conduct of a boy pigmy—Kibbo-bora loses his wife at the Hot Springs—Arrival at Kufarro—Recent kings of Karagwé—Kiengo and Captain Nelson’s resemblance to “Speke”—The King of Uganda greatly dreaded in Karagwé—Ndagara refuses to let our sick stay in his country—Camp at Uthenga: loss of men through the cold—We throw superfluous articles in Lake Urigi in order to carry the sick—We enter the district of Ihangiro: henceforward our food has to be purchased—The Lake of Urigi—At the village of Mutara, Fath-el-Mullah runs amuck with the natives, and is delivered over to them—The Unyamatundu plateau—Halt at Ngoti: Mwengi their chief—Kajumba’s territory—We obtain a good view of Lake Victoria—The country round Kisaho—Lions and human skulls in the vicinity of our camp—The events of 1888 cleared our track for a peaceful march to the sea—We reach Amranda and Bwanga—The French missionaries and their stations at Usambiro—Arrival at Mr. Mackay’s, the English Mission station—Mr. Mackay and his books—We rest, and replenish our stores, etc.—Messrs. Mackay and Deakes give us a sumptuous dinner previous to our departure—The last letter from Mr. A. M. Mackay, dated January 5, 1890.
1889.
July 28.
Karagwé.
A stranger entering Ankori or Karagwé in the dry season, and taking a casual view around, and seeing only vast spaces made black with fire, and lines and massive outcroppings of grey rock, long mountainous ridges heaving one after another, all burnt up, and scorched to seeming desolateness, would be apt to exclaim impatiently, “Show me one beauty spot on the face of it!” This man is an old acquaintance of mine. He is a spleeny, querulous, joyless fellow, of thin blood and aching liver. He will go to the Congo, or to East Africa, or to Bechuanaland, and standing on an ant-heap, he will ask with a sneer, “Do you call this Africa? Pho!” Nevertheless, within three weeks after the fire which burnt the sere grass, and gave the land an aspect of desolation, the young grass is waving merrily, exulting in its youth, and beauty, and greenness over mountain summit, slope, and valley, and these two pasture-lands, renowned for the breeding of their cattle, really look beautiful. I have seen them now under two aspects. To Ankori I give the preference. In it are mighty extents of plain stretching in a hazy, billowy manner, broken up here and there by humpy eminences, pap-like hills, and dwarfish mounts, divided by tributaries of the Alexandra like the Rwizi, or by feeders of the Albert Edward like the Rusango, and all within curving lines of grand grass-covered ranges, which separate one broad river basin from another. It seems as though all this was arranged after some cunning plan, to meet the exigencies of exclusive tribes. The plan has been defeated, however, for Antari reigns over the basins of the Rwizi, the Namianja, the Rusango, and many another stream, despite the mountainous dyke, and of late years he has annexed Mpororo country, and if his power were equal to his ambition he would probably annex Karagwé, and Koki, and Uddu, down to the Victoria Lake.
We are now in Karagwé. The Alexandra Nile—drawing its waters from Ruanda, Mpororo, to the west; and from north, Uhha; and north-east, Urundi and Kishakka—runs north along the western frontier of Karagwé, and reaching Ankori, turns sharply round to eastward to empty into the Victorian Sea; and as we leave its narrow valley, and ascend gradually upward, along one of those sloping narrow troughs so characteristic of this part of Central Africa, we camp at Unyakatera, below a mountain ridge of that name, and like the view obtained from that summit two score of times repeated, is all Karagwé. It is a system of deep narrow valleys running between long narrow ranges as far as the eye can reach. In the north of Karagwé they are drained by small streams which flow into the Alexandra.
1889.
July 29.
Mtagata.
The second day’s travel was terminated when we reached Mtagata hot springs, which I have already described in ‘Through the Dark Continent.’
A HOT SPRING, MTAGATA. (From a Photograph.)
BABY RHINOCEROS SHOWING FIGHT IN CAMP.
Soon after reaching the camp our Nubians set out to hunt, for the land is famous for rhinoceros, and being good shots, they dropped four of these huge beasts, and captured a baby, which they brought to us. We tied the baby, which was as large as a prize boar, to a tree, and he fully showed what combativeness there was in his nature. Sometimes he mistook the tree for an enemy, and rushed to the attack, battering it with its horny nose until, perceiving that the tree obstinately resisted him, he would halt to reconnoitre it, as though he had the intention of assaulting it by another method; but at such times some wicked Zanzibari boys prodded him in the hams with a reed cane, and uttering a startling squeal of rage he would dash at the offenders to the length of his tether. He seemed to me to be the stupidest, most ireful, intractable little beastie that ever I had met. Feeling himself restrained by the cord, he felt sure it must be the tree that was teasing him, and he would make another dash at it with such vehemence that sent him on his haunches; prodded, pricked in the rear, he squealed again, and swinging round with wonderful activity, he would start headlong, to be flung on his back by the rope; until at last, feeling that it would be only misery to him to be carried to the coast, he was consigned to the butcher and his assistants.
On the march of July 31st to Kirurumo, Wadi Asmani, a Zanzibari headman, laid his rifle and box on the path, and disappeared without a word of parting or warning to any person, with nearly thirty months’ pay due to him, while in perfect condition of body and at peace with all the world.
1889.
July 31.
Kirurumo.
Captain Casati was placed in a hammock and carried on account of increasing weakness. The Pasha visited me, and related his opinion that Casati was a curious man. Said he: “I have just come from seeing my friend Casati; I found him lying on some grass, and the sunshine pouring on his bare head with such heat that, even with my topee, I suffered inconvenience. He has four women, besides two Manyuema and his young man from our province. I asked him why he did not make his people build him a shelter with banana leaves, for there were some within forty yards of him. He replied, ‘I have no servants.’ I then said to him, ‘Why did you not send for the bath-tub I promised you? You should avail yourself of these hot springs.’ ‘True,'he replied, ‘but I have no people.’ ‘But you have four stout female servants that I know of.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘but I don’t like to ask them to do anything lest they should say I work them like slaves. They are widows, you know, and their husbands are dead, etc.’”
The young pigmy damsel who had been with us for over a year began to show symptoms of chronic ill health, and was left with the chief of Kirurumo. The little thing had performed devoted service to Surgeon Parke, who had quite won her heart with those soft gentle tones of his that made everybody smile affectionately on the Doctor. She used to be the guardian of his tent, and whenever the Doctor had to absent himself for his duties she crouched at the door, faithful as a spaniel, and would permit no intruder to approach the doorway. She performed her work in the most unobtrusive manner, and she was the only one of her sex who did not abuse the privileges we generally concede to women in the camp. On the road she carried the Doctor’s satchel, and on nearing the resting-place she was as industrious as a bee in collecting fuel, and preparing the Surgeon’s cheering cup of tea, which after patient teaching she learned was necessary for his well-being. There was a little fellow of her tribe attached to another of the officers, who never spoke a word to mortal being except to his master, was one of the first to gain camp, collect the fuel, and make his fire. Though loaded on the march he never appeared fatigued or worried, and never gave any trouble. Sometimes when by his industry he had collected a stock of fuel, and a big callous-hearted ruffian took it from the boy, he would show his distress by his looks, but presently gathering courage he would abandon it and collect another pile, as though time was too precious to waste in useless argument over the inevitable. And thus the Pigmies showed by their conduct that they were related to all that was best and noble in human nature.
Kibbo-bora, a headman of the Manyuema, lost his wife at the Hot Springs, and so great was his grief that he had to be restrained lest he should commit suicide. Sitting apart in the gorge of Mtagata he howled his laments during twenty-four hours, and his followers formed a chorus to respond to his mournful cries. None of us had much sleep that night, and thus we became involuntarily partakers of his woe. It was several days before the poor fellow recovered from the shock.
Continuing our journey along those grassy ridges which run parallel to deep narrow valleys in a S.S.E. and N.N.W. direction, almost invariably across the breadth of Karagwé and Ruanda to the westward, in three marches we arrived at Kafurro, a settlement that was once a favourite resort of Arab traders.
As in Uganda, changes have taken place in Karagwé. Mtesa, first made known to us by Captains Speke and Grant, has departed to the great majority, and within fourteen years Mwanga, Kiwewa, Karema, and again Mwanga, have sat on Mtesa’s throne. Rumanika, the gentle pagan, a characteristic Mhuma, has gone too, to sleep only a little more peacefully than he had lived. And after him came Kyensi, his eldest son, who reigned only nine months. Then followed Kakoko, another son, who usurped the throne and reigned for three years, and during that time slew seventeen brothers, and put out the eyes of Luajumba, his youngest brother. Then Ka-chikonju went in unto Kakoko as he lay on his bedstead sodden with malwa, and drove his sharp spear twice through his breast, and relieved the land of the tyrant. The same month Hamed bin Ibrahim, who had lived in Karagwé many years trading in ivory, was murdered by his son, Syed bin Hamed. The successor of Kakoko to the rights and prerogatives of King of Karagwé is Ndagara, or Unyagumbwa, for he has two names, who was now in his sixteenth year, and as the son of Kyensi was the rightful heir.
1889.
Aug. 3.
Kafurro.
The welcome extended to us through Ankori was extended to the Expedition in our journey through Karagwé. On the road to Kafurro we had been permitted to help ourselves to bananas and plantains, and as soon as Ndagara was officially informed of our arrival, he despatched to camp a sufficient supply of bananas, an ox, fowls, malwa, and some loads of beans, sweet potatoes, and grain. In return I made him a present of a Winchester, and a couple of coils of wire.
Kiengo, also the old guide of Speke and Grant, who accompanied them from Unyanyembé to Unyoro, sent us an ox, bananas, fowls, and milk; and to Captain Nelson, because he bore some resemblance to “Speki,” he gave a fat broad-tailed sheep, and the only tax we had to pay was that on our patience while listening to his reminiscences of “Speki,” which he was never tired of repeating.
The King of Uganda is greatly dreaded in Karagwé. Before Mwanga was deposed no stranger could pass through the land without obtaining his sanction. The Waganda, after the death of Rumanika, had carried matters with such a high hand that they also taxed Ndagara’s Arab guests with the same freedom as they would have exacted toll in Uganda. Two years before our arrival the Waganda were in force at Ndagara’s capital, and at Kitangulé to command the ferries across the Alexandra Nile. They found Bakari, a coast trader, occupying the place of Hamed Ibrahim at Kafurro, and demanded from him twenty guns and twenty kegs of powder, which he refused on the ground that he was a guest of the King of Karagwé, and not of the King of Uganda; whereupon he and his principal men were shot forthwith. Considering these things it is not likely we should have had a peaceful passage through Karagwé had we adopted this route for the relief of Emin, with such quantities of ammunition and rifles as would have made Uganda so intractable that nothing but a great military force would have been able to bring its king to reason.
It was clearly demonstrated what hold Uganda maintained in Karagwé, when in obedience to a request from twenty-six of the Pasha’s people that I should obtain permission of Ndagara for them to remain in the land until they were cured of their ulcers, I sent word to the king that we had several men and women unable to travel through excessive illness. Ndagara returned a reply stating that on no consideration would he permit the people to stay, as if it once reached the ears of the King of Uganda that he allowed strangers to stay in his country, he would be so exasperated that he would not only send a force to kill the strangers, but that Karagwé would be ruined. His reply was given to the Pasha, and he explained and argued with his wearied and sick followers, but, as he said, they were resolved to stay, as they had only a choice of deaths, and as we were already cruelly loaded, there was no help for it.
From Kafurro we moved to Rozaka on the 7th, and the next day marched over dreary wastes of sere grass, in valley and on mountain. The morning was very gloomy and threatened rain, and after we had filed along a tall ridge in the face of a bitter and chilly wind, a drizzly sleet commenced to fall, which paralysed the Pasha’s followers. The rearguard advancing after the column saw symptoms of collapse among many cases, and its commander, Captain Nelson, ordered a halt, and directed his men to make fires, but before the freezing people could reach the warmth, many fell down and stiffened, and becoming powerless had to be carried to the fires and shampooed by the Zanzibaris, when they soon recovered. Five, however, had perished from the cold before the hard-worked rearguard could reach them. The head of the column, five miles ahead of the rearguard, had spurred forward to gain shelter in the banana groves of Uthenga basin, utterly beyond recall, as the habit of the Egyptians and their followers was to dawdle along the road and place as much as a mile or two between them and the porters, who by long experience had learned that it was best to hurry to camp and be relieved of their burdens.
1889.
Aug. 10.
Urigi Lake.
On the 10th we left Uthenga, and crossing two mountain ridges descended 800 feet to the narrow basin at the head of Urigi Lake, then traversed the ancient bed, and winding along a road followed the east shore line of the lake. On reaching camp, opposite to where the lake was about a mile wide, we slaughtered nine head of cattle for meat rations, and tossed two boxes of Remington ammunition into the water. We had already relieved ourselves of African curios from the forest lands, and of every superfluous article. We were now beginning to relieve ourselves of the ammunition, to carry the sick refugees from the Equatorial Province.
On the 11th we passed out of Karagwé territory, and because of the complimentary introductions from Ndagara we were welcomed in Ihangiro, and were escorted from village to village until we halted at Kavari. But here was the end of the free living. Every grain and banana would have to be purchased henceforward. From the Albert Nyanza to this first important district in Ihangiro, nearly 600 miles, the Expedition had been supplied gratuitously and abundantly. It now behoved us to distribute to each man, woman, and child in the Expedition supplies of beads of various colours, red, white, blue, brown, and pink, of porcelain and glass, and each person would barter these currencies for food as he or she pleased. To people who were accustomed to eat five days’ provisions in one day, it was imprudent to give more than four or five days’ ration beads at a time. Had we given each person a month’s allowance, which would have been a vast relief to our burdened carriers, and a saving of some sick people’s lives—as we should have been enabled to have carried more of them in hammocks—nine-tenths of our followers would have expended their ration monies in purchasing only a little grain, but vast quantities of malwa, fowls, and goats, and in ten days they would have applied for more beads or cloth, and the Expedition would have been halted, completely beggared.
1889.
Aug. 11.
Urigi Lake.
The Lake of Urigi is pretty when seen from Useni or Kavari. At this season its hilly frame is all brown, with little dots of dark green bush scattered here and there; the water was of a light blue owing to a bright blue sky. Its receding waters have left great extents of flat plain on the sides and around the bays running far inland into valleys. Its shores and waters are favourite haunts of birds, from cranes, herons, and pelicans, to the small black Parra Africana, egrets and waders, which find excellent feeding over the large spaces near the extremities and shore line of bays, covered with close-packed growths of Pistia stratiotes plants, until they resemble green lawns from a little distance off. Hippos abound, and, unfortunately, armies of black mosquitoes. The eastern shore we found to be littered with bones of slain animals, for the lions and hyenas, it is said, kill much game. A large supply of fish is found in the lake, but they are infested with guinea worm—at least those which we purchased were deemed quite uneatable from that cause. The lake measures about twenty-five miles in length by from one to three miles wide, and is sunk about 1200 feet below the average level of the bare grassy hills around it.
1889.
Aug. 12.
Mutara.
From Kavari we journeyed along the lake shore to Mutara. No sooner had we arrived than native men, women, and children visited us to barter their surplus provisions of grain, honey, fish, malwa, fowls, and bananas. The hard-headed Soudanese proceeded to the village of Mutara, a mile off, and, unduly oblivious of the orders given the day before when the beads were distributed, commenced to loot the village, more especially for malwa and beans. In a country where not the least obstacle is placed in the way of travellers, and where they might purchase anything of the product of the land for cash value, as much surprise would be manifested as in Cairo or London at the sight of a mob of men looting stores and markets. Consequently the natives expostulated, and demanded to know what this conduct implied. For answer, a Soudanese, Fathel Mullah, loaded his Remington and shot one man dead, another in the jaw, and another in the leg. As this was perfectly inexplicable to the natives, instead of avenging themselves there and then, a body of fifty of them came to the camp as an orderly deputation, to demand an explanation of me. The story appeared so incredible that I sent an officer with them to see the dead man and wounded, and the officer on his return reported that the story was true. Then every man in the Expedition was mustered, the rolls were called, Zanzibaris, Soudanese, Manyuema, Egyptians, and their followers, and the natives were requested to walk all round the rude square, and point out the man who had entered their village to run amuck while the women were bartering in the camp, and after going searchingly about, five of them pointed at Fathel Mullah. As this was not sufficient evidence even, the question was addressed to the Soudanese, and his comrade Sururu stepped out and described the circumstance that a native had tried to prevent him taking a pot of malwa, whereupon, calling him Abid and Kelb—slave and dog—he shot him dead, and fired three or four times at others indiscriminately.
“The man is yours—you can take him; but if you will sell him for cattle, cloth, wire, beads, or anything else, I will buy him.”
“No, no, no, no; we don’t sell our people; not for a hundred cattle would we part with him.”
“But what good will his blood be to you? You can’t eat him; he will not work for you. Take five cattle for him.”
1889.
Aug. 13.
Ngoti.
“No, no, no, no. We want him, for he has slain a chief man in our village, and perhaps the others will die also. We will take him.”
“Take him, then; he does not belong to me, and has no right in my camp.”
He was marched away, and we never knew what became of him.
On the next day we struck away more easterly from Lake Urigi, over rough stony ground, which was waterless and uninhabited, with numerous ant-hills covered with sickly and dwarfed bush, a thin forest of miserable acacia spreading out on either hand, leafless, decaying, and dead. Within two hours we reached the base of Unya-Matundu plateau, and, as the morning was yet early, we ascended to the summit, 1,200 feet above Lake Urigi, travelled an hour over a rolling surface of pasture land, through prosperous fields and scattered settlements, and halted at Ngoti after four and a half hours’ march.
Mwengi, the chief, was a gigantic young Mhuma, tall as a guardsman, but quiet and possessed, and his people obeyed him with alacrity. We therefore halted to do a day’s bartering. A fine bunch of bananas could be purchased for ten cowries, and as eight cowries constituted a day’s ration allowance, no one could possibly complain of insufficient food.
An hour’s march beyond Ngoti we began to descend the eastern face of the plateau, and 900 feet below reached a rolling plain covered with leafless and sickly acacia, and were in the country of Uzinja.
1889.
Aug. 15.
Kimwani.
We halted after five hours in Kimwani or Kizinga—Chief Kajumba’s territory. The chief was another tall person of the Wahuma breed, at the time suffering from ophthalmia. When the Waganda invaded his territory a year ago he fled to Unya-Ruwamba, the Urigi district of Ihangiro, and hid himself on an island in the lake, whence, after paying a tribute of cattle to Uganda, he was permitted to return to his own land as a subject of Mwanga, but to find his banana groves cut down and the land well cleaned of every product. For the protection afforded him in his distress, Ihangiro claims Kimwani as a district attached to it. Kassasura, King of Usui, having invaded Kimwani and captured Kajumba and held him a prisoner for two months, also lays claim to his allegiance.
Kajumba, was liberal to us, as he sent us eighty-one bunches of bananas, one goat, and two pots of malwa. As he was on the verge of senility, he was inclined to be despotic and querulous, and it may be imagined that perhaps a small caravan would be differently treated.
Accompanied by guides from Kimwani we set out southward, and three miles beyond Kajumba’s we obtained a charming view of Lake Victoria and the islands Ikuta, Majinga, Soswa, Rumondo, and distant Mysomé, and near noon we camped at Nyamagoju, at the south-west extremity of an arm of the lake which receives the Lohugati, a periodical stream draining East Usui.
The next day’s march was along a plain which extended from Nyamagoju to another lake arm, at whose extremity we camped at a village called Kisaho. Our route each day now was across flat extents of land, from which the Lake had within twenty-five years or so receded. They are covered over with low bush, which at this season is leafless. The ground is dry, streamless, hard-baked and cracked, and shows a nitrous efflorescence in many places. To our right, as the land rises, on ridges over fifty feet above the Lake, we find a thin dwarf forest; at a hundred feet elevation we see respectable trees, and grasses become more nutritious.
1889.
Aug. 20.
Itari.
SOUTHWEST EXTREMITY OF LAKE VICTORIA NYANZA.
We cut across a broad cape-like formation of land and passed from the bay of Kisaho to a bay near Itari on the 20th, and from the summit of a high ridge near the latter place I perceived by compass bearings and solar observation, that we were much south of the south-west coast line, as marked on my map in “Through the Dark Continent.” From this elevated ridge could be seen the long series of islands overlapping one another, which, in our flight from the ferocious natives of Bumbiré in 1875, without oars, had been left unexplored, and which, therefore, I had sketched as mainland.
We find that the Wazinja call the Victoria Nyanza Muta Nzigé, as the Wanyoro call the Albert Lake Muta Nzigé, and the Wasongora and Wanyankori call the Albert Edward by the same name.
On leaving Itari we were made aware of lions having paid the vicinity of our camp a visit by a dead zebra which had just been killed. We were also astonished at the number of human skulls about, and when we asked the guides the cause, we were informed that at Itari the Wazinja endeavoured to oppose the Waganda during their late invasion. It may be that the Wazinja deserved the cruel visitation. It is well known that Usui needs a lesson like it. The last caprice of Kasasura has been to halt a caravan of 150 guns.
As we reflected on the various events which appear to have occurred in this region in 1887, the Waganda in force in Karagwé, audacious and insolent, and shooting Arab traders, and invading Uzinja, and from Kishakka to the Victoria Lake the land one seething area of strife and bloodshed, it struck us that the events of 1888, the deposition of Mwanga, the revolution and counter-revolution, were simply clearing our track for a peaceful march to the sea.
It became impressed on us as we travelled over these dry, waterless plains, with their nakedness scarcely hidden by dwarf acacia, and hardy euphorbias, that the forest people were utterly unfit to be taken out of their arboreal homes. Half of those who had accompanied us we had been obliged to leave behind, and yet there had been no want of either food or water. In the same manner the Somalis, Soudanese, Madis, or Baris, when taken into the forest, soon became joyless, dull, and moping, and died. And yet I have read in affectedly learned books that Africa was only fit for the Africans!
1889.
Aug. 21.
Amranda.
To my great surprise, and indeed delight, the Lake extended to 2° 48′ south latitude, which we ascertained on reaching Amranda on the 21st. The highest elevation reached since leaving Nyamaagoju has not been higher than 50 feet above the Lake, while immense tracts of as yet poor flat country have been left bare by the recession of its waters, and until many a season yet of rains has scoured the nitre out of these plains they must remain mean and unproductive.
By a gradual rise from Amranda southward we escape after a few miles out of the unlovely plains to older land producing a better quality of timber. Before we were 100 feet above the Lake a visible improvement had taken place, the acacia had disappeared, and the myombo, a tree whose bark is useful for native cloth and for boxes, and which might be adapted for canoes, flourished everywhere. At Bwanga, the next village, the language of the Wahuma, which we had heard continually since leaving the Albert Nyanza, ceases, and the Unyamwezi interpreters had now to be employed, which fact the sceptical Zanzibaris hailed as being evidence that we were approaching Pwani (the coast).
And now we had to turn east, straight for the Mission House, which we began to hear of as being in Usambiro. From Bwanga to Uyombi is a march of 6¾ hours, thence another, Kamwaga, of 5 hours, thence to Umpeté, 5 hours, and from thence to the abandoned French Mission Station in Usambiro in 6 hours. In the centre of the circular palisade was a neat church, and above the roof of it was a simple cross, which instantly suggested Christ and Civilization, words and thoughts to which I fear most of us had been strangers for many months.
1889.
Aug. 27.
Usambiro.
The French Missionaries, we must admit, are not to be excelled in the art of building Stations and developing an appearance of comfort and prettiness out of the most unpromising materials. Those who have travelled the last three or four hundred miles with us will have seen that I have been almost indifferent to the face of the land. We had traversed it during the dry season, when it is difficult to find one acre out of a million worth looking at, and yet equal to the unloveliest of all was that occupied by this handsome Mission Station. There were three rows of low earth-covered structures, forming three sides of a spacious square, and in each row were four or five chambers neatly plastered within and without with grey clay. Midway between the houses were the church, excellently built out of materials in the vicinity; an inner circle of palisades surrounded the civilized quarters, and an outer circle protected the village of the proselytes. Nothing could be better, considering that the myombo forest close by, and the soil around them, furnished the materials, than the plan and execution of it. One realised how patiently and with what love they must have laboured. There were two faults in the place, however, which, had their faith not been so great, they would have known before building. The natives were cantankerous, hard-hearted, worldly Wanyamwezi, and there was no water, and before they had quite completed the Station, the signal for retreat and abandonment was given.
1889.
Aug. 27.
Usambiro.
The next day, having already sent messengers ahead, that we might not take Mr. Mackay, of the Church Missionary Society, by surprise, we arrived in view of the English Mission, which was built in the middle of what appeared to be no better than a grey waste, on ground gently sloping from curious heaps of big boulders, or enormous blocks thrown higgledy-piggledy to the height of a respectable hill down to a marshy flat green with its dense crops of papyrus, beyond which we saw a gleam of a line of water produced from an inlet of the Victoria Nyanza. We were approaching the Mission by a waggon track, and presently we came to the waggon itself, a simple thing on wooden wheels, for carrying timber for building. There was not a green thing in view except in the marsh; the aspect was cheerless and melancholy, grass all dead, trees either shrunk, withered, or dead, at least there was not the promise of a bud anywhere, which was of course entirely due to the dry season. When we were about half a mile off a gentleman of small stature, with a rich brown beard and brown hair, dressed in white linen and a grey Tyrolese hat, advanced to meet us.
“And so you are Mr. Mackay? Mwanga did not get you, then, this time? What experiences you must have had with that man. But you look so well one would say you had been to England lately.”
“Oh, no, this is my twelfth year. Mwanga permitted me to leave, and the Rev. Cyril Gordon took my place, but not for long, since they were all shortly after expelled from Uganda.”
Talking thus we entered the circle of tall poles within which the Mission Station was built. There were signs of labour, and constant unwearying patience, sweating under a hot sun, a steadfast determination to do something to keep the mind employed, and never let idleness find them with folded hands brooding over the unloveliness, lest despair might seize them, and cause them to avail themselves of the speediest means of ending their misery. There was a big, solid workshop in the yard filled with machinery and tools, a launch’s boiler was being prepared by the blacksmiths, a big canoe was outside repairing; there were sawpits, and large logs of hard timber, there were great stacks of palisade poles, in a corner of an outer yard was a cattle-fold and a goat-pen, fowls by the score pecked at microscopic grains, and out of the European quarter there trooped out a number of little boys and big boys looking uncommonly sleek and happy; and quiet labourers came up to bid us, with hats off, “Good Morning.” Now if there is anything on God’s earth better calculated than work to make men happy, it must be with some peculiar dispositions the knowledge that their work is ended. Hence, when I entered the Mission House my soul was possessed with some such feeling as this; at any rate before my mission was terminated the welcome we received promised rest and relief.
STANLEY, EMIN, AND OFFICERS AT USAMBIRO.
I was ushered into the room of a substantial clay structure, the walls about two feet thick, evenly plastered, and garnished with missionary pictures and placards. There were four separate ranges of shelves filled with choice, useful books. “Allah ho Akbar,” replied Hassan, his Zanzibari head-man, to me; “books! Mackay has thousands of books, in the dining-room, bedroom, the church, everywhere. Books! ah, loads upon loads of them!” And while I was sipping real coffee, and eating home-made bread and butter for the first time for thirty months, I thoroughly sympathised with Mackay’s love of books. But it becomes quite clear why, amongst so many books, and children, and outdoor work, Mackay cannot find leisure to brood and become morbid, and think of “drearinesses, wildernesses, despair and loneliness.” A clever writer lately wrote a book about a man who spent much time in Africa, which from beginning to end is a long-drawn wail. It would have cured both writer and hero of all moping to have seen the manner of Mackay’s life. He has no time to fret and groan and weep, and God knows if ever man had reason to think of “graves and worms and oblivion,” and to be doleful and lonely and sad, Mackay had, when, after murdering his Bishop, and burning his pupils, and strangling his converts, and clubbing to death his dark friends, Mwanga turned his eye of death on him. And yet the little man met it with calm blue eyes that never winked. To see one man of this kind, working day after day for twelve years bravely, and without a syllable of complaint or a moan amid the “wildernesses,” and to hear him lead his little flock to show forth God’s loving kindness in the morning, and His faithfulness every night, is worth going a long journey, for the moral courage and contentment that one derives from it.
We stayed at the Mission Station from the 28th of August to the morning of the 17th of September, and on the Europeans of the Expedition the effect of regular diet and well-cooked food, of amiable society and perfect restfulness, was marvellous.
We were rich in goods of all kinds, for in Mr. Mackay’s keeping since Mr. Stokes brought them from the coast in 1888, we possessed about 200 loads of bulky currency and forty loads of preserved provisions. Thirty loads of cloth were instantly distributed among the people on account, at cost price, that each man might make amends during our rest for any late privations. We had also fourteen pack-donkeys, which were delivered to the Pasha’s followers, and the Pasha, Casati, and myself, were able to purchase riding asses from the French Missionaries at Bukumbi, who were good enough to visit us with valuable gifts of garden produce. From their stores our officers were enabled to purchase very necessary outfits, such as boots, slippers, shirts, and hats, which made them presentable once more.
VIEW FROM MACKAY’S MISSION, LAKE VICTORIA (from a photograph).
We were also able to obtain about twenty carriers, to assist in the carriage of goods, that more of our Zanzibaris might be detailed for hammock service; and yet after a stay of nineteen days, with as much food as they could eat, and as great a variety as the country—by no means badly stocked—could provide, when they were mustered for the march the day before leaving Makolo’s, there were over one hundred people who complained of asthma, chest, spleen, liver, or lumbar pains, and declared they could not travel.
The evening before the day we resumed our journey for the sea Messrs. Mackay and Deakes, the only two members of the Mission at present at Makolo’s (Messrs. Gordon and Walker having just departed for Uganda before we arrived) gave us a sumptuous dinner, roast beef, roast fowl, stews, rice and curry, plum-pudding, and a bottle of medical wine. And as is the custom in civilised lands, speeches terminated the banquet. It fell to my share to propose the health of Emin Pasha, and to Mr. Mackay to propose mine, and there was no member then present who was not the recipient of most friendly wishes on the part of everybody else, delivered, as I thoroughly believe, in perfect sincerity.
The last letter from Mr. A. M. Mackay.
“Usambiro,
“January 5th, 1890.
“My very dear Sir,
“I have no less than three valuable letters from you, viz., two dated Usongo, and one from Ugogo. The last arrived here on 1st December.
“Since the French priests passed this way to overtake your Expedition, I have not sent off a post to the coast.
“I was most pleased to hear of your satisfactory progress; and doubtless you are, by this time, comfortably housed in civilized territory, and enjoying a more than well-earned rest after the fatigues and privations of African travel. If any man merits the congratulations of Europe, certainly you do. But you will likely soon be sick of being fêted everywhere, and in disgust, retire into some out-of-the-way corner to write the full account of your remarkable adventures. What a strange loneliness hung about this place—physically and mentally—after you left, goes without saying. The looked-for mail did not come; only the carriers returned from Kisokwé, on October 23rd, without any letters from the coast. Although on December 1st we got a batch of letters, but no papers or magazines. These will come some time.
“Deakes has been a good deal unwell, but now fully recovered, while the commencement of the rains has laid up nearly all my colony of Baganda with protracted low fever. Your man, Ali bin Said, died on September 27th, and one of the Pasha’s whites, Mohammed Arabi, died on October 20th. The others, eight in number, have all fully recovered, and are at work.
“I have fitted up my steam engine, and find pumps complete, and also riveted the boiler, both outer shell and firebox. The boiler has been a serious job, as fourteen years of knocking about have thrown every plate out of shape, besides turning the iron, originally of ‘Best’ brand, with a brittle, steely sort of thing, which determined to crack on the first touch of a hammer. But by carefully annealing the whole, I have succeeded. I am now rigging up a steam saw-mill, to cut up the planks for the new boat. The rough boat, or transformed canoe, which you saw here in progress, is now nearly finished, and should have been completed some time ago; but I have not been able to look after it, owing to occupation at other work, including printing for Buganda.
“You will have heard that, after severe fighting, the Christians defeated Kalema and his Arab party, and have replaced Mwanga on the throne. They have taken possession of all the chieftainships for themselves, equally dividing them between the Roman Catholics and the Protestants. An active young fellow named Kagwa Apollo, a pupil of my own, is now the Katekiro.
“Mwanga is altogether in the hands of the new Christian chiefs, and they do not seem likely to allow him to have his own way any more. Five of the Frenchmen, including their Bishops, are now there, while our Mission is represented by only Walker and Gordon.
“I can hear nothing of the I. B. E. A. Co., except the old report of February from Zanzibar, that they were at Ulu. They seem to require a man of determination and pluck at their head; and my joy will be great when I hear of your undertaking to put their affairs on a sound footing. I am glad to hear of Mr. Mackinnon being knighted. He well deserves the honour. I have written to his agents in Zanzibar, explaining the absurdity of their acceding to Germany’s wish to draw the boundary-line west of this Lake, along the 1st parallel of S. Lat., as that would cut the kingdom of Buganda into two halves; for Karagwé, Usui, and Usinja, as far south as Serombo, are actually part of Buganda, being tributary to it. No paper delimitation, made in Berlin or London, can ever remove these states from their allegiance to Buganda. Therefore, there need be little jealousy about the matter. The only fair boundary-line that I can see would be from this end of the long creek (Smith Sound) diagonally S.W. to the intersection of the 4th parallel with the 32nd degree of E. long., and then straight west to Bikani on the Tanganika.
“Many chiefs to the S.W. have been visiting here personally, and others sending; and I mean to send these letters their way to Uyin, as the wretched Nindo people are too grasping for my taste.
“I sent cloth, etc., to Nindo, to redeem your rifle taken from your messenger; but the rascally Mwanangwa has stuck to both ransom and rifle, under pretext of some quarrel with Stokes; so I give that crew a wide berth.
“I hear, on good authority, that the Banyoro, whom you fought, were not a chance raiding gang, but Kabba-Rega’s own army, which he sent expressly to check your advance. He was so terrified at the defeat of his troops that he took refuge on an island in the Albert Lake. Mwanga sent here a deputation, a month after you left, craving your assistance.
“The Arabs seem now completely discomfited, and have fled from Nagu. Said bin Saif’s (Kipanda) dhow, with a cargo of guns and kegs of powder, was captured by Mwanga’s people, and the vessel destroyed. Sunguru’s likewise. Stokes’ boat is, at this moment, the only one on the Lake. The Eleanor I have cut up, as being too rotten for further use, but hope soon to launch the other boat, which may do good service till I get the steam launch afloat.
“I have no definite news of the coast. I only heard of the re-establishment of the Germans at Mpwapwa. Surely, they will learn wisdom in time, but hitherto, they have made a sorry hash of matters. I only hope they and the English will keep the gunpowder out. In no other way will they ever be able to exercise any control on the chiefs in the Interior.
“‘To be, or not to be; that is the question.’ Is it to be a track to the Lake or not? I see in you the only hope for this region, in your getting Sir W. Mackinnon to see the matter in its true light. I would not give sixpence for all the Company will do in half a century to come, unless they join the Lake with the coast by a line, let it be at first ever so rough. When they have got that, they will have broken the backbone of native cantankerousness.
“Very many thanks for your kindness in proposing to leave the theodolite for me at Kisokwe. I hope it will come this far in safety. I shall value it doubly as a souvenir from your hands.
“With very best wishes,
“Believe me ever,
“My dear Sir,
“Yours faithfully,
(Signed) “A. M. Mackay.
“H. M. Stanley, Esq.”
To my great grief, I learn that Mr. Mackay, the best missionary since Livingstone, died about the beginning of February. Like Livingstone, he declined to return, though I strongly urged him to accompany us to the coast.
