by John Keay
After three days’ sojourn at Ugogo to recruit the party and lay in rations for four long desert marches, we set forth on our long march through the province of Ugogo. Our first day’s journey was over a grassy country, and we accomplished it in comparative comfort. The next day we toiled through the sunshine of the hot waste, crossing plains over paths where the slides of elephants’ feet upon the last year’s muddy clay showed that the land was not always dry. During this journey we suffered many discomforts and difficulties. The orb of day glowed like a fireball in our faces; then our path would take us through dense, thorny jungle, and over plains of black, cracked earth. Our caravan once rested in a thorny copse based upon rich red and yellow clay; once it was hurriedly dislodged by a swarm of wild bees, and the next morning I learnt that we had sustained a loss – one of our porters had deserted, and to his care had been committed one of the most valuable of our packages, a portmanteau containing “The Nautical Almanac,” surveying books, and most of our papers, pen, and ink.
When we resumed our journey, the heat was awful. The sun burnt like the breath of a bonfire, warm siroccos raised clouds of dust, and in front of us the horizon was so distant that, as the Arabs expressed themselves, a man might be seen three marches off.
October 5th saw us in the centre of Kanyenye, a clearing in the jungle of about ten miles in diameter. The surface was of a red clayey soil dotted with small villages, huge calabashes, and stunted mimosas. Here I was delayed four days to settle blackmail with Magomba, the most powerful of the Wagogo chiefs. He was of a most avaricious nature. First of all I acknowledged his compliments with two cottons. On arrival at his headquarters, I was waited on by an oily Cabinet of Elders, who would not depart without their “respects” – four cottons. The next demand was made by his favourite, a hideous old Princess with more wrinkles than hair, with no hair black and no tooth white; she was not put right without a fee of six cottons. At last, accompanied by a mob of courtiers, appeared the chief in magnifico. He was the only chief who ever entered my tent in Ugogo – pride and a propensity for strong drink prevented such visits. He was much too great a man to call upon Arab merchants, but in our case curiosity mastered State considerations. Magomba was an old man, black and wrinkled, drivelling and decrepit. He wore a coating of castor-oil and a loincloth which grease and use had changed from blue to black. He chewed his quid, and expectorated without mercy; he asked many questions, and was all eyes to the main chance. He demanded, and received, five cloths, one coil of brass wire, and four blue cottons. In return he made me a present of the leanest of calves, and when it was driven into camp with much parade, his son, to crown all, put in a claim for three cottons. Yet Magomba, before our departure, boasted of his generosity – and indeed he was generous, for everything we had was in his hands, and we were truly in his power. It was, indeed, my firm conviction from first to last in this expedition that in case of attack or surprise by natives I had not a soul except my companion to stand by me, and all those who accompanied us would have either betrayed us or fled. We literally, therefore, carried our lives in our hands.
We toiled on and on, suffering severely from the heat by day and sometimes the cold by night, and troubled much with mutinous porters and fears of desertion, until at last we reached the heart of the great desert, or elephant ground, known as Fiery Field. On October 20th we began the transit of this Fiery Field. The waste here appeared in its most horrid phase; a narrow goat-path serpentined in and out of a growth of poisonous thorny jungle, with thin, hard grass straw growing on a glaring white and rolling ground. The march was a severe trial, and we lost on it three boxes of ammunition. By-and-by we passed over the rolling ground, and plunged into a thorny jungle, which seemed interminable, but which gradually thinned out into a forest of thorns and gums, bush and underwood, which afforded a broad path and pleasanter travelling. Unfortunately, it did not last long, and we again had a very rough bit of ground to go over. Another forest to pass through, and then we came out on October 27th into a clearing studded with large stockaded villages, fields of maize and millet, gourds and watermelons, and showing numerous flocks and herds. We had arrived at Unyamwezi, and our traverse of Ugogo was over.
The people swarmed from their abodes, young and old hustling one another for a better stare; the man forsook his loom and the girl her hoe, and we were welcomed and escorted into the village by a tail of screaming boys and shouting adults, the males almost nude, the women bare to the waist, and clothed only knee-deep in kilts. Leading the way, our guide, according to the immemorial custom of Unyamwezi, entered uninvited and sans cérémonie the nearest village; the long string of porters flocked in with bag and baggage, and we followed their example. We were placed under a wall-less roof, bounded on one side by the bars of the village palisade, and surrounded by a mob of starers, who relieved one another from morning to night, which made me feel like a wild beast in a menagerie.
We rested some days at Unyamwezi – the far-famed “Land of the Moon” – but I was urged to advance on the ground that the natives were a dangerous race, though they appeared to be a timid and ignoble people, dripping with castor and sesamum oil, and scantily attired in shreds of cotton or greasy goat-skins. The dangers of the road between Unyamwezi and Ujiji were declared to be great. I found afterwards that they were grossly exaggerated, but I set forth with the impression that this last stage of my journey would be the worst of all. The country over which we travelled varied very much from day to day, being sometimes opened and streaked with a thin forest of mimosas, and at other times leading us through jungly patches. Going through a thick forest, one of the porters, having imprudently lagged behind, was clubbed and cruelly bruised by three black robbers, who relieved him of his load. These highwaymen were not unusual in this part, and their raids formed one of the many dangers we had to guard against.
On November 7th, 1857, the one hundred and thirty-fourth day from the date of leaving the coast, we entered Kazeh, the principal village of Unyamwezi, much frequented by Arab merchants. I always got on well with the Arabs, and they gave me a most favourable reception. Striking indeed was the contrast between the openhanded hospitality and hearty goodwill of this truly noble race and the niggardliness of the savage and selfish Africans. Whatever I alluded to – onions, plantains, limes, vegetables, tamarinds, coffee, and other things, only to be found amongst the Arabs – were sent at once, and the very name of payment would have been an insult.
Kazeh is situated in Unyamyembe, the principal province of Unyamwezi, and is a great meeting-place of merchants and point of departure for caravans, which then radiate into the interior of Central Intertropical Africa. Here the Arab merchant from Zanzibar meets his compatriot returning from the Tanganyika and Uruwwa. Many of the Arabs settle here for years, and live comfortably, and even splendidly. Their houses, though single storied, are large, substantial, and capable of defence; their gardens are extensive and well planted. They receive regular supplies of merchandise, comforts, and luxuries from the coast; they are surrounded by troops of concubines and slaves; rich men have riding asses from Zanzibar, and even the poorest keep flocks and herds.
I was detained at Kazeh from November 8th until December 14th, and the delay was one long trial of patience. Nevertheless, on the morning of December 15th I started off afresh, charmed with the prospect of a fine open country, and delighted to get away from what had been to me a veritable imprisonment.
I will not describe the details of our march, which went on without a break. Christmas Day found us still marching, and so on day after day, if I except an enforced halt of twelve days at Msene. On January 10th, 1858, I left Msene, with considerable difficulty through the mutiny of porters; and so we pressed on, more or less with difficulty, until at last a formidable obstacle to progress presented itself. I had been suffering for some days; the miasmatic airs of Sorora had sown the seeds of a fresh illness. On the afternoon of January 18th, 1858, I was seized with an attack of fever, and then paralysis set in from the feet upwar
ds, and I was completely hors de combat. There seemed nothing left for me but to lie down and die. One of my chief porters declared that the case was beyond his skill: it was one of partial paralysis, brought on by malaria, and he called in an Arab, who looked at me also. The Arab was more cheerful, and successfully predicted that I should be able to move in ten days. On the tenth I again mounted my ass, but the paralysis wore off very slowly, and prevented me from walking any distance for nearly a year. The sensation of numbness in my hands and feet disappeared even more slowly than that. I had, however, undertaken the journey in a “nothing like leather” frame of mind, and was determined to press on. So we pressed.
We had now left the “Land of the Moon” behind us, and entered upon a new district. The road before us lay through a howling wilderness, and the march lay along the right bank of a malarial river, and the mosquitoes feasted right royally upon our bodies, even in the daytime. A good deal of the ground was very swampy, and it then stretched over jungly and wooded hill-spires, with steep ascents and descents. Everywhere was thick, fœtid, and putrescent vegetation. The heaviness of this march caused two of our porters to levant and another four to strike work. It was, therefore, necessary for me to again mount ass ten days after an attack of paralysis. So we dragged on for the next week, throughout the early days of February, a weary toil of fighting through tiger and spear grass, over broken and slippery paths, and through thick jungle. But these difficulties were lightly borne, for we felt that we must be nearing the end of our journey.
On February 13th we resumed our travel through screens of lofty grass, which thinned out into a straggling forest. After about an hour’s march, as we entered a small savannah, I saw our Arab leader running forward and changing the direction of the caravan. Presently he breasted a steep and stony hill, sparsely clad with thorny trees. Arrived at the summit with toil, for our fagged beasts now refused to proceed, we halted for a few minutes and gazed.
“What is that streak of light which lies below?” I inquired of Seedy Bombay, one of our porters.
“I am of opinion,” quoth Seedy, “that is the water.”
I gazed in dismay. The remains of my blindness, the veil of trees, and broad ray of sunshine illuminating but one reach of the lake, had shrunk its fair proportions. Prematurely I began to curse my folly in having risked life and health for so poor a prize, and even thought of proposing an immediate return with a view of exploring the Nyanza, or Northern Lake. Advancing, however, a few yards, the whole scene suddenly burst upon my view, filling me with wonder, admiration, and delight. My longing eyes beheld the Tanganyika Lake as it lay in the lap of the mountain, basking in the gorgeous tropical sunshine. Our journey had not been in vain.
A GLIMPSE OF LAKE VICTORIA
John Hanning Speke
(1827–64)
In July 1858, while returning from Lake Tanganyika with Burton, Speke made a solo excursion to the north in search of an even larger lake reported by an Arab informant. Although partially blind and unable to ascertain its extent, he named this lake “Victoria” and boldly declared it the long sought source of the White Nile. Burton scoffed at the idea and thus began exploration’s bitterest controversy. Speke later substantiated his claim but died unaware of Baker’s rival discovery of Lake Albert.
13th July, 1858 The caravan started at 6.30 a.m., and after travelling eight miles over an open, waving, well-cultivated country, stopped at the last village in Unyambéwa. The early morning before starting was wasted by the pagazis “striking” for more cloth, and refusing to move unless I complied with their demand. I peremptorily refused, and they then tried to wheedle me out of beads. In demanding cloth, they pretended that they were suffering from the chilling cold of night – a pretence too absurd to merit even a civil reply. I then explained to my head men that I would rather anything happened than listen to such imposture as this; for did the men once succeed by tricks of this sort, there would never be an end to their trying it on, and it would ultimately prove highly injurious to future travellers, especially to merchants. On the route we had nothing to divert attention, save a single Wasukuma caravan proceeding southwards to Unyanyembé. A sultana called Ungugu governs this district. She is the first and only female that we have seen in this position, though she succeeded to it after the custom of the country. I imagine she must have had a worthless husband, since every sultan can have as many wives as he pleases, and the whole could never have been barren. I rallied the porters for pulling up after so short a march, but could not induce them to go on. They declared that forests of such vast extent lay on ahead that it would be quite impossible to cross them before the night set in. In the evening I had a second cause for being vexed at this loss of time, when every mile and hour was of so much importance; for by our halt the sultana got news of my arrival, and sent a messenger to request the pleasure of my company at her house on the morrow. In vain I pleaded for permission to go and see her that moment, or to do so on my return from the N’yanza; her envoy replied that the day was so far spent I could not arrive at her abode till after dark, and she would not have the pleasure of seeing me sufficiently well. He therefore begged I would attend to the letter of her request, and not fail to visit her in the morning.
The lazy pagazis, smelling flesh, also aided the deputy in his endeavours to detain me, by saying that they could not oppose her majesty’s will, lest at any future time, when they might want again to pass that way, she should take her revenge upon them. Though this might seem a very reasonable excuse, I doubt much, if their interests had lain the opposite way, whether they would have been so cautious. However, it was not difficult to detect their motives for bringing forward such an urgent reason against me, as it is a custom in this country that every wealthy traveller or merchant shall pay a passport-fee, according to his means, to the sultan of the country he travels through, who in return gives a cow or goat as a mark of amity, and this is always shared amongst the whole caravan.
14th The sultana’s house was reported to be near, so I thought to expedite the matter by visiting her in person, and thus perhaps gain an afternoon’s march: otherwise to have sent the Jemadar with a present would have been sufficient, for these creatures are pure Mammonists. Vain hope, trying to do anything in a hurry in Negroland! I started early in the morning, unfortified within, and escorted by two Beluches, the Kirangozi, three porters, Bombay, and Mabruki.
After walking six miles over a well-cultivated plain, I felt anxious to know what they meant by “near,” and was told, as usual, that the house was close at hand. Distrustful, but anxious to complete the business as speedily as possible (for to succeed in Africa one must do everything one’s self), I followed the envoy across one of the waves that diversify the face of the country, descended into a well-cultivated trough-like depression, and mounted a second wave six miles farther on.
Here at last, by dint of perseverance, we had the satisfaction of seeing the palisadoed royal abode. We entered it by an aperture in the tall slender stakes which surround the dwellings and constitute the palisadoing, and after following up a passage constructed of the same material as the outer fence, we turned suddenly into a yard full of cows – a substitute for an anteroom. Arrived there, the negroes at once commenced beating a couple of large drums, half as tall as themselves, made something like a beer-barrel, covered on the top with a cow-skin stretched tightly over, by way of a drum-head. This drumming was an announcement of our arrival, intended as a mark of regal respect.
For ten minutes we were kept in suspense, my eyes the while resting upon the milk-pots which were being filled at mid-day, but I could not get a drop. At the expiration of that time a body of slaves came rushing in, and hastily desired us to follow them. They led us down the passage by which we entered, and then turned up another one similarly constructed, which brought us into the centre of the sultana’s establishment – a small court, in which the common negro mushroom huts, with ample eaves, afforded us grateful shelter from the blazing sun. A cow-skin was now sprea
d, and a wooden stool set for me, that I might assume a better state than my suite, who were squatted in a circle around me. With the usual precaution of African nobles, the lady’s-maid was first sent to introduce herself – an ugly halting creature, very dirtily garbed, but possessing a smiling contented face. Her kindly mien induced me, starving and thirsty as I was after my twelve miles’ walk, to ask for eggs and milk – great luxuries, considering how long I had been deprived of them. They were soon procured, and devoured with a voracity that must have astonished the bystanders.
The maid, now satisfied there was nothing to fear, whether from ghost, goblin, or white face, retired and brought her mistress, a short stumpy old dame, who had seen at least some sixty summers. Her nose was short, squat, and flabby at the end, and her eyes were bald of brows or lashes; but still she retained great energy of manner, and was blessed with an ever-smiling face. The dress she wore consisted of an old barsati, presented by some Arab merchant, and was if anything dirtier than her maid’s attire. The large joints of all her fingers were bound up with small copper wire, her legs staggered under an immense accumulation of anklets made of brass wire wound round elephant’s tail or zebra’s hair; her arms were decorated with huge solid brass rings, and from other thin brass wire bracelets depended a great assortment of wooden, brazen, horn, and ivory ornaments, cut in every shape of talismanic peculiarity.