by John Keay
The Lualaba has many oysters in it with very thick shells. They are called Makessi, and at certain seasons are dived for by the Bagenya women: pearls are said to be found in them, but boring to string them has never been thought of.
The Manyuema are so afraid of guns, that a man borrows one to settle any dispute or claim: he goes with it over his shoulder, and quickly arranges the matter by the pressure it brings, though they all know that he could not use it.
A ball of hair rolled in the stomach of a lion, as calculi are, is a great charm among the Arabs: it scares away other animals, they say.
Lion’s fat smeared on the tails of oxen taken through a country abounding in tsetse, or buñgo, is a sure preventive; when I heard of this, I thought that lion’s fat would be as difficult of collection as gnat’s brains or mosquito tongues, but I was assured that many lions are killed on the Basango highland, and they, in common with all beasts there, are extremely fat: so it is not at all difficult to buy a calabash of the preventive, and Banyamwezi, desirous of taking cattle to the coast for sale, know the substance, and use it successfully (?).
11th August Came on by a long march of six hours across plains of grass and watercourses, lined with beautiful trees, to Kassessa’s, the chief of Mamohela, who has helped the Arabs to scourge several of his countrymen for old feuds: he gave them goats, and then guided them by night to the villages, where they got more goats and many captives, each to be redeemed with ten goats more. During the last foray, however, the people learned that every shot does not kill, and they came up to the party with bows and arrows, and compelled the slaves to throw down their guns and powder-horns. They would have shown no mercy had Manyuema been thus in slave power; but this is a beginning of the end, which will exclude Arab traders from the country. I rested half a day, as I am still ill. I do most devoutly thank the Lord for sparing my life three times in one day. The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and He knows them that trust in Him.
12th August Mamohela camp all burned off. We sleep at Mamohela village.
13th August At a village on the bank of River Lolindi. I am suffering greatly. A man brought a young, nearly full-fledged, kite from a nest on a tree: this is the first case of their breeding, that I am sure of, in this country: they are migratory into these intertropical lands from the south, probably.
14th August Across many brisk burns to a village on the side of a mountain range. First rains 12th and 14th, gentle; but near Luamo, it ran on the paths, and caused dew.
15th August To Muanambonyo’s. Golungo, a bush buck, with stripes across body, and two rows of spots along the sides (?).
16th August To Luamo River. Very ill with bowels.
17th August Cross river, and sent a message to my friend. Katomba sent a bountiful supply of food back.
18th August Reached Katomba, at Moenemgoi’s, and was welcomed by all the heavily-laden Arab traders. They carry their trade spoil in three relays. Kenyengére attacked before I came, and 150 captives were taken and about 100 slain; this is an old feud of Moenemgoi, which the Arabs took up for their own gain. No news whatever from Ujiji, and M. Bogharib is still at Bambarre, with all my letters.
19th–20th August Rest from weakness. (21st August.) Up to the palms on the west of Mount Kanyima Pass. (22nd August.) Bambarré. (28th August.) Better and thankful. Katomba’s party has nearly a thousand frasilahs of ivory, and Mohamad’s has 300 frasilahs.
29th August Ill all night, and remain. (30th August.) Ditto, ditto; but go on to Monandenda’s on River Lombonda.
31st August Up and half over the mountain range, (1 st September) and sleep in dense forest, with several fine running streams.
2nd September, 1871 Over the range, and down on to a marble-capped hill, with a village on top.
3rd September Equinoctial gales. On to Lohombo.
5th September To Kasangangazi’s. (6th September.) Rest. (7th September.) Mamba’s. Rest on 8th. (9th September.) Ditto ditto. People falsely accused of stealing; but I disproved it to the confusion of the Arabs, who wish to be able to say, “the people of the English steal too.” A very rough road from Kasangangazi’s hither, and several running rivulets crossed.
10th September Manyuema boy followed us, but I insisted on his father’s consent, which was freely given: marching proved too hard for him, however, and in a few days he left.
Down into the valley of the Kapemba through beautiful undulating country, and came to village of Amru: this is a common name, and is used as “man,” or “comrade,” or “mate.”
11th September Up a very steep high mountain range Moloni or Mononi, and down to a village at the bottom on the other side, of a man called Molembu.
12th September Two men sick. Wait, though I am now comparatively sound and well. Dura flour, which we can now procure, helps to strengthen me: it is nearest to wheaten flour; maize meal is called “cold,” and not so wholesome as the Holcus sorghum or dura. A lengthy march through a level country, with high mountain ranges on each hand; along that on the left our first path lay, and it was very fatiguing. We came to the Rivulet Kalangai. I had hinted to Mohamad that if he harboured my deserters, it might go hard with him; and he came after me for two marches, and begged me not to think that he did encourage them. They came impudently into the village, and I had to drive them out: I suspected that he had sent them. I explained, and he gave me a goat, which I sent back for.
13th September This march back completely used up the Manyuema boy: he could not speak, or tell what he wanted cooked, when he arrived. I did not see him go back, and felt sorry for the poor boy, who left us by night. People here would sell nothing, so I was glad of the goat.
14th September To Pyanamosindé’s. (15th September.) To Karungamagao’s; very fine undulating green country. (16th and 17th September.) Rest, as we could get food to buy. (l8th September.) To a stockaded village, where the people ordered us to leave. We complied, and went out half a mile and built our sheds in the forest: I like sheds in the forest much better than huts in the villages, for we have no mice or vermin, and incur no obligation.
19th September Found that Barua are destroying all the Manyue-ma villages not stockaded.
20th September We came to Kunda’s on the River Katemba, through great plantations of cassava, and then to a woman chief’s, and now regularly built our own huts apart from the villages, near the hot fountain called Kabila which is about blood-heat, and flows across the path. Crossing this we came to Mokwaniwa’s, on the River Gombezé, and met a caravan, under Nassur Masudi, of 200 guns. He presented a fine sheep, and reported that Seyed Majid was dead – he had been ailing and fell from some part of his new house at Darsalam, and in three days afterwards expired. He was a true and warm friend to me and did all he could to aid me with his subjects, giving me two Sultan’s letters for the purpose. Seyed Burghash succeeds him; this change causes anxiety. Will Seyed Burghash’s goodness endure now that he has the Sultanate? Small-pox raged lately at Ujiji.
22nd September Caravan goes northwards, and we rest, and eat the sheep kindly presented.
23rd September We now passed through the country of mixed Barua and Baguha, crossed the River Loñgumba twice and then came near the great mountain mass on west of Tanganyika. From Mokwaniwa’s to Tanganyika is about ten good marches through open forest. The Guha people are not very friendly; they know strangers too well to show kindness: like Manyuema, they are also keen traders. I was sorely knocked up by this march from Nyañgwé back to Ujiji. In the latter part of it, I felt as if dying on my feet. Almost every step was in pain, the appetite failed, and a little bit of meat caused violent diarrhoea, whilst the mind, sorely depressed, reacted on the body. All the traders were returning successful: I alone had failed and experienced worry, thwarting, baffling, when almost in sight of the end towards which I strained.
3rd October I read the whole Bible through four times whilst I was in Manyuema.
8th October The road covered with angular fragments of quartz was very sore to my
feet, which are crammed into ill-made French shoes. How the bare feet of the men and women stood out, I don’t know; it was hard enough on mine though protected by the shoes. We marched in the afternoons where water at this season was scarce. The dust of the march caused ophthalmia, like that which afflicted Speke: this was my first touch of it in Africa. We now came to the Lobumba River, which flows into Tanganyika, and then to the village Loanda and sent to Kasanga, the Guha chief, for canoes. The Loñgumba rises, like the Lobumba, in the mountains called Kabogo West. We heard great noises, as if thunder, as far as twelve days off, which were ascribed to Kabogo, as if it had subterranean caves into which the waves rushed with great noise, and it may be that the Loñgumba is the outlet of Tanganyika: it becomes the Luassé further down, and then the Luamo before it joins the Lualaba: the country slopes that way, but I was too ill to examine its source.
9th October On to islet Kasengé. After much delay got a good canoe for three dotis, and on 15th October went to the islet Kabiziwa.
18th October Start for Kabogo East, and 19th reach it 8 a.m.
20th October Rest men.
22nd October To Rombola.
23rd October At dawn, off and go to Ujiji. Welcomed by all the Arabs, particularly by Moenyegheré. I was now reduced to a skeleton, but the market being held daily, and all kinds of native food brought to it, I hoped that food and rest would soon restore me, but in the evening my people came and told me that Shereef had sold off all my goods, and Moenyeghere confirmed it by saying, “We protested, but he did not leave a single yard of calico out of 3000, nor a string of beads out of 700 lbs.” This was distressing. I had made up my mind, if I could not get people at Ujiji, to wait till men should come from the coast, but to wait in beggary was what I never contemplated, and I now felt miserable. Shereef was evidently a moral idiot, for he came without shame to shake hands with me, and when I refused, assumed an air of displeasure, as having been badly treated; and afterwards came with his “Balghere,” good-luck salutation, twice a day, and on leaving said, “I am going to pray,” till I told him that were I an Arab, his hand and both ears would be cut off for thieving, as he knew, and I wanted no salutations from him. In my distress it was annoying to see Shereef’s slaves passing from the market with all the good things that my goods had bought.
24th October My property had been sold to Shereef’s friends at merely nominal prices. Syed bin Majid, a good man, proposed that they should be returned, and the ivory be taken from Shereef; but they would not restore stolen property, though they knew it to be stolen. Christians would have acted differently, even those of the lowest classes. I felt in my destitution as if I were the man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves; but I could not hope for Priest, Levite, or good Samaritan to come by on either side, but one morning Syed bin Majid said to me, “Now this is the first time we have been alone together; I have no goods, but I have ivory; let me, I pray you, sell some ivory, and give the goods to you.” This was encouraging; but I said, “Not yet, but by-and-bye.” I had still a few barter goods left, which I had taken the precaution to deposit with Mohamad bin Saleh before going to Manyuema, in case of returning in extreme need. But when my spirits were at their lowest ebb, the good Samaritan was close at hand, for one morning Susi came running at the top of his speed and gasped out, “An Englishman! I see him!” and off he darted to meet him. The American flag at the head of a caravan told of the nationality of the stranger. Bales of goods, baths of tin, huge kettles, cooking pots, tents, &c., made me think “This must be a luxurious traveller, and not one at his wits’ end like me.” (28th October.) It was Henry Moreland Morton Stanley, the travelling correspondent of the New York Herald, sent by James Gordon Bennett, junior, at an expense of more than 4000l., to obtain accurate information about Dr. Livingstone if living, and if dead to bring home my bones. The news he had to tell to one who had been two full years without any tidings from Europe made my whole frame thrill. The terrible fate that had befallen France, the telegraphic cables successfully laid in the Atlantic, the election of General Grant, the death of good Lord Clarendon – my constant friend, the proof that Her Majesty’s Government had not forgotten me in voting 1000l. for supplies, and many other points of interest, revived emotions that had lain dormant in Manyuema. Appetite returned, and instead of the spare, tasteless, two meals a day, I ate four times daily, and in a week began to feel strong. I am not of a demonstrative turn; as cold, indeed, as we islanders are usually reputed to be, but this disinterested kindness of Mr. Bennett, so nobly carried into effect by Mr. Stanley, was simply overwhelming. I really do feel extremely grateful, and at the same time I am a litde ashamed at not being more worthy of the generosity. Mr. Stanley has done his part with untiring energy; good judgment in the teeth of very serious obstacles. His helpmates turned out depraved blackguards, who, by their excesses at Zanzibar and elsewhere, had ruined their constitutions, and prepared their systems to be fit provender for the grave. They had used up their strength by wickedness, and were of next to no service, but rather downdrafts and unbearable drags to progress.
‘Dr Livingstone I presume?’ The meeting of Livingstone and Stanley. From How I found Livingstone, travels, adventures, and discoveries in Central Africa, London, 1872.
16th November, 1871 As Tanganyika explorations are said by Mr. Stanley to be an object of interest to Sir Roderick [Murchison], we go at his expense and by his men to the north of the Lake.
ENCOUNTERS ON THE
UPPER CONGO
Henry Morton Stanley
(1841–1904)
Stanley made his name as an explorer by tracking down Livingstone in 1871. But obscure Welsh origins, plus the adoption of US citizenship and professional journalism, did not endear him to London’s geographical establishment. His response was to out-travel all contemporaries, beginning with the first ever coast-to-coast crossing of equatorial Africa. Leaving Zanzibar, he had struck the headwaters of what proved to be the Congo (Zaire) by the end of 1876 and with Frank Pocock, his sole surviving companion, had now to run a gauntlet of hostility to the Atlantic.
Dec. 27. 1876 Vinya-Njara. In the evening, while sleep had fallen upon all save the watchful sentries in charge of the boat and canoes, Frank and I spent a serious time.
Frank was at heart as sanguine as I that we should finally emerge somewhere, but, on account of the persistent course of the great river towards the north, a little uneasiness was evident in his remarks.
“Before we finally depart, sir,” said he, “do you really believe, in your inmost soul, that we shall succeed? I ask this because there are such odds against us – not that I for a moment think it would be best to return, having proceeded so far.”
“Believe? Yes, I do believe that we shall all emerge into light again some time. It is true that our prospects are as dark as this night. Even the Mississippi presented no such obstacles to De Soto as this river will necessarily present to us. Possibly its islands and its forests possessed much of the same aspect, but here we are at an altitude of sixteen hundred and fifty feet above the sea. What conclusions can we arrive at? Either that this river penetrates a great distance north of the Equator, and, taking a mighty sweep round, descends into the Congo – this, by the way, would lessen the chances of there being many cataracts in the river; – or that we shall shortly see it in the neighbourhood of the Equator, take a direct cut towards the Congo, and precipitate itself, like our Colorado river, through a deep cañon, or down great cataracts; or that it is either the Niger or the Nile. I believe it will prove to be the Congo; if the Congo then, there must be many cataracts. Let us only hope that the cataracts are all in a lump, close together.
Henry Stanley, from a photograph taken in 1877. From Through the Dark Continent, London, 1878.
“Any way, whether the Congo, the Niger, or the Nile, I am prepared, otherwise I should not be so confident. Though I love life as much as you do, or any other man does, yet on the success of this effort I am about to stake my life, my all. T
o prevent its sacrifice foolishly I have devised numerous expedients with which to defy wild men, wild nature, and unknown terrors. There is an enormous risk, but you know the adage, ‘Nothing risked, nothing won.’
“I see us gliding down by tower and town, and my mind will not permit a shadow of doubt. Good night, my boy! Good night! and may happy dreams of the sea, and ships, and pleasure, and comfort, and success attend you in your sleep! To-morrow my lad, is the day we shall cry – ‘Victory or death!’”
Dec. 28. Vinya-Njara The crisis drew nigh when the 28th December dawned. A grey mist hung over the river, so dense that we could not see even the palmy banks on which Vinya-Njara was situated. It would have been suicidal to begin our journey on such a gloomy morning. The people appeared as cheerless and dismal as the foggy day. We cooked our breakfasts in order to see if, by the time we had fortified the soul by satisfying the cravings of the stomach, the river and its shores might not have resumed their usual beautiful outlines, and their striking contrasts of light and shadow.
Slowly the breeze wafted the dull and heavy mists away until the sun appeared, and bit by bit the luxuriantly wooded banks rose up solemn and sad. Finally the grey river was seen, and at 9 a.m. its face gleamed with the brightness of a mirror.
“Embark, my friends! Let us at once away! and a happy voyage to us.”
But, looking up, I saw the gleaming portal to the Unknown: wide open to us and away down for miles and miles, the river lay stretched with all the fascination of its mystery. I stood up and looked at the people. How few they appeared to dare the region of fable and darkness! They were nearly all sobbing. They were leaning forward, bowed, as it seemed, with grief and heavy hearts.
Then I urged my boat’s crew, knowing that thus we should tempt the canoes to quicker pace. Three or four times Uledi, the coxswain, gallantly attempted to sing, in order to invite a cheery chorus, but his voice soon died into such piteous hoarseness that the very ludicrous-ness of the tones caused his young friends to smile even in the midst of their grief.