But this action was not approved of by the people who owned the goats and they desired this leopard to be done away with. I had obtained by purchase—nothing is ever given in Africa—a goat which bleated wonderfully during the daytime but which remained absolutely silent at night, thus refusing to attract a leopard or leopards. At this point, Mrs. Hemingway suggested that she would like for her Christmas present, which I had not been able to obtain in Nairobi since my duties made Nairobi inaccessible, a trip by air to the Belgian Congo. Although she had been through Tanganyika to as far as Mbeya and had made a safari up the great Ruaha River, and we had visited various areas of Kenya in official and semi- or comic-official capacities, Mrs. Hemingway felt that she had not seen Africa. She wished to see the Congo.
• • •
Never have I had any desire to see the Congo myself. I wished, rather than undertaking this voyage, to remain in the Laitokitok area where we had an unfinished problem, that of the leopard, which had not returned to the shamba and had killed no more goats, but whose tracks were plainly visible on what we had ascertained to be his more or less weekly rounds. This leopard was in the habit of sleeping in the Kimana Swamp on the grass rather than in a tree. I saw him once in a tree, but he came out of the tree like a lizard and as it was raining and I was wearing glasses I passed up the shot. The chances are I would have wounded him and the country was no good to follow him up. He would have gone off into high papyrus.
At this time, we were hunting this leopard constantly, gazing into the trees where he often reposed in the daytime and had been seen by my native game scouts. While walking with the scouts with all of our eyes raised to the trees, I trod on an eight-foot cobra who immediately took evasive action.
This was considered an extremely comic incident by the local Wakamba present. The action of the cobra was most ignominious. He did not raise his head or put up his hood as a cobra should, but retreated into a dense piece of bush. A self-admitted great marksman, I missed this cobra twice with a pistol and after this what is known in Wakamba as the Great Snake Fight commenced. A number of rounds were fired and the cobra took evasive action into the papyrus. While desiring to remain in the area, I thought that Miss Mary, my wife, had a point in her plan for visiting the Belgian Congo (which is known to be one of the centers of civilization in Africa).
From the Laitokitok area, we proceeded in two motor vehicles, one of which belonged to my son Patrick, a resident of John’s Corner, P.O. Box 6, Tanganyika. It had been cannibalized, i.e., all parts usable removed from it to reinforce a second vehicle of the same type. I drove the vehicle of my son Patrick who, unfortunately, was unable to be with us, being in the hospital in Iringa, Tanganyika, with an attack of fever. This vehicle was unable to negotiate a river due to general lack of a functioning generator which flooded, and it was pulled from the river by the vehicle of the same type which had received the vital organs of the vehicle which I was driving. After this, we proceeded to Kajiado.
From Kajiado, which at that time had no airstrip, we continued to Nairobi and took off in a Cessna 180 for the Belgian Congo, on Mrs. Hemingway’s Christmas-present trip. We left Nairobi West Airport at approximately 11:30 a.m., being delayed from our usual early departure waiting for the arrival of a friend who was bearing most important information.
We took off and flew a course for Lake Magadi, where we saw the houses of various friends and the local store, and then flew toward the escarpment in order to locate Denis Zaphiro, who was reported to be camped in that area. Knowing his habits and where he would probably be, we located him at a place known as Fig Tree Camp on a small stream of clear water which comes out of the escarpment. This was the camp where Denis had been chased into the bed of the stream twice by a rhino and its location was more or less embedded in my memory. It was easy to ascertain by following the road along which the construction of a pipeline for Magadi had been interrupted by a rhino—an incident in which we had been called on to intervene. This road was also impressed in my memory, and by following it we continued to the escarpment and, after making a 40-degree turn, it was easy to locate Denis and his guest Keith Caldwell, who is certainly one of the ten best wing shots in Great Britain. Things appeared to be normal in their camp and we dropped them a message wishing them all the best in the circumstances.
• • •
We then proceeded down the Rift Valley to the point where Miss Mary, for a period of 17 days, had hunted a large black-maned lion accompanied by his friend, who was almost of equal category. We found the place where this lion had once attempted to join our group or, perhaps, only penetrate through our group in a desire to go up the escarpment. We then went up the escarpment and found where he would have been and we discussed this event at length. Where he would have been was a pleasant glade and in my opinion we could have killed him easily.
Discussing this type of event in a small plane is done in a more or less staccato manner.
I said, “You can see where the splendid beast went and where he was when we quit.”
Miss Mary responded, “Okay, you and your splendid dog companions could possibly have continued and encountered the beast, but it was impossible for anybody in their right mind to go further up that escarpment.”
I replied, “Ndio, darling” (Ndio meaning yes) and we called the thing off and proceeded down the Rift Valley until we encountered on the port side a small volcano which I had long been interested in.
We had a good look at this volcano, which had recently been in eruption, and then broke away from it in order to have a look at Lake Natron. This lake is very interesting for its intense color, which is produced by a sort of alga, and the presence of a large herd of buffalo. The buffalo are very black and have, in the case of the male, wide-spreading horns. These horns are quite impressive even from the air.
The lake bed was a deep pink in color; almost magenta. There was an abundance of wild fowl, including flocks of flamingos, and we identified a large number of these and then left Lake Natron to explore an extinct volcano on the west side of the escarpment. Then, having noted that from the air there is nothing to hold one’s interest permanently in the crater of an extinct volcano, we proceeded to the Ngorongoro Crater, which is a rather notorious place frequently visited by tourists and heavily populated by game. On a cursory inspection of this remarkable depression, we noted several thousand wildebeest, kongoni and various types and species of antelope. No lions were observed.
Leaving the Ngorongoro Crater, we flew over the Serengeti Plains, where I showed Miss Mary the site where my previous and lovely wife Miss Pauline had killed a very fine maned lion. Mr. Marsh and I also showed Miss Mary the spot at which I killed a fair lion and killed a hyena with a shotgun while hunting duck. The hyena appeared out of the tall grass and in a way asked for his unfortunate demise.
The hyena, although a splendid actor in the motion pictures and the best performer in a film we always refer to as The Snows of Zanuck, and also the possessor of an extraordinary voice which one misses when in the metropolis of Nairobi, is in some ways an unpleasant character. We are all prejudiced against him at the moment, having seen him tear out the genitals of a living rhinoceros which had just been wounded by a cow elephant. Then this hyena with his mate attacked the rhino and proceeded to feed on the tusk wound that the rhino had in his left buttock.
So remembering old memories of the death of fisi, which is the Swahili name for hyena, we proceeded to the small town of Mwanza where we refueled the aircraft. We did not enter Mwanza itself but stayed at the airstrip since the generator had evidently cut out on the aircraft and it was necessary to wind up the aircraft manually to become air-borne.
We then flew across Lake Victoria and over the Ruanda-Urundi. This is a rather desolate part of Africa and we were unable to see the sable antelope which are said to abound there, but did see one extremely aged-looking rhino who appeared to have nothing particular to do at that time of day, which was now evening, and four rather aimless-looking elephants, non
e of whom wore ivory over 90 pounds. After the Ruanda-Urundi, we came into a very heavily populated country where the huts were conical in shape and where quite a lot of social life appeared to be going on. We were able to observe groups of the local citizens who appeared to be enjoying themselves extraordinarily. In other words, a number appeared to be blind drunk.
We landed at a very fine airstrip at the town of Costermans-ville situated on Lake Kivu. There is a first-class hotel with excellent food and accommodation and a view over the lake. The lake is one of the most beautiful that I have ever seen. It is impossible to compare lakes accurately, but I would think that with its islands, broken outline, color of water, it would be certainly as beautiful as Lago Maggiore or Lago di Garda. It is certainly much more beautiful than Lago di Como and I am quite sure that it contains less dead bodies, of human beings at any rate.
In the morning, which was bright and lovely, we repaired the generator and the plane was thoroughly checked and we proceeded north flying over the Gorilla Sanctuary where Carl Akeley collected.
We then flew between two active volcanos and for a short time the air in the plane was somewhat reminiscent of the smell in a kite which has been hit by 20-millimeter antiaircraft fire. In other words, there was a strong sulphurous odor which made it necessary to open the side window vents. These volcanos were smoking to such an extent that any photographs taken would probably be worthless, so we broke off and headed in a northwest direction to observe the Ruwenzori Range which is known through my reading of Life, and through hearsay about the all-girl safari, as “The Mountains of the Moon.”
I believe this original title came from the late Sir Rider Haggard. The “Mountains of the Moon” were unfortunately obscured by clouds as mountains so often are and we were unable to observe or photograph them. So we turned away and laid a course for Entebbe, where there was a very long and beautiful airstrip on which there was little activity due to the unfortunate grounding of the aircraft described by the British as the Comet.
The lack of the Comet, on which the social structure of Entebbe is temporarily based, was felt by all. We hoped piously that Comets would soon be flying again, had a drink to their early return to the airlines in the airport, and proceeded to the very excellent Lake Hotel. This is a really lovely hotel and the view over Lake Victoria is superb. By this time, I hoped that Miss Mary was beginning to lose the claustrophobia she had experienced while being confined to the Masai Reserve and the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro.
We waited in the hotel until the mist had cleared and then went to the airport and took off for Lake Albert. Lake Albert is a very beautiful lake and there are many fishing villages along its western shore. We watched the fishermen and saw their various methods of fishing. They were using both nets and set lines which were marked by buoys made of native woods. The fishermen were using dugout canoes and when they were collecting their catch we saw one fish that appeared to be a Nile perch of at least 200 pounds.
He was a huge fish and the fishermen were rowing him rapidly to shore, being obviously very satisfied. We waved to them, dipped our wings rather, and they waved back. It was a truly splendid fish and to see him from the air made it even better.
We proceeded up the western bank of Lake Albert and then ascended the Victoria Nile to Murchison Falls. On the way, we saw many hippo and elephant along the banks and a sight which I had never seen before, mixed herds of elephant and buffalo. Everyone seemed to be getting along very well together, except one large hippo which was recently dead and was in the process of being eaten by crocodiles. The crocodiles seemed to be very confident in this area.
Formerly in Southern Tanganyika along the great Ruaha River, the only sight we ever had of a crocodile was the tip of his nostrils in the water. But there the crocodiles were being hunted heavily and were wary. These crocodiles along the Nile were on the banks and with their heads facing the shore rather than the water. They possibly expected something to come down to the water. In any event, they were present in profusion. I counted seventeen of the length of 12 feet and over (remember this is done from the air and therefore you cannot have complete accuracy—they might have been much longer), but they were extremely large crocs and they were together and under the brush or trees along the side of the river. As well as being very long, they were very broad and the plane did not disturb them at all. We began to consider that this was a fairly rough country.
Murchison Falls is very beautiful. It is a cataract which descends in various levels rather than an abrupt falls such as Niagara.
We circled these falls several times at a reasonably legal height and then after Miss Mary had taken two or three magazines full of film, which I loaded and supplied to her, we decided to return to Entebbe, where we planned to take a short break and see that the film was properly cared for. It needs to be packed with dehydrating material and sealed airtight in these latitudes. As we broke away from the falls, we encountered a flight of large birds which I identified as black and white ibis. We had seen this same flock on our way up the river. A bird of this type can easily go through the Plexiglas and could eliminate the pilot of an aircraft of this type or the co-pilot. Since the co-pilot’s seat was occupied by Miss Mary, Roy Marsh dove sharply under these birds which we observed passing overhead and I had the chance to admire their black and white markings and their down-swept black bills.
At this point, having deviated through no fault of our own from our proposed course, we encountered a telegraph wire on an abandoned line. This telegraph had been abandoned when the radio network was set up and nearly all the wire had been removed for the benefit of the natives, who wore it in circular coils in their ears. This small section of the line remained, as it was inaccessible to the natives, who are more or less allergic to Murchison Falls. This might be due to the presence of the various beasts which we had observed.
The aircraft had encountered the wire with its propeller and its tail assembly. It was temporarily uncontrollable and then was so obviously damaged that it was necessary to land. There was a choice of going into what we refer to in RAF parlance as “the drink” which was directly below. However, the drink which was carefully observed and had already been scouted by Roy Marsh and myself contained too many crocodiles to make landing advisable. Also, as you know, one does not land an aircraft with nonretractable wheels in the water. Water is one of the hardest substances on which to land an aircraft and unless you can make a belly landing the ditching will not be successful. The action of the unretracted wheels when coming in contact with the water will almost inevitably precipitate the aircraft forward so that the pilot and the passengers will find themselves upside down and under water. If this water is occupied by the crocodiles this maneuver is considered by experienced defiers of the laws of gravity to be extremely inadvisable.
Roy Marsh chose the simpler and better course of swinging sharply to his left where there was solid land observable. This land was covered by heavy bush but a Cessna 180 can land at a speed of approximately 40 mph. Roy Marsh, who found that his flaps were working, laid her down very sweetly in the softest bushes which were available. These bushes were medium-sized trees. There was the usual sound of rending metal which is audible in a forced landing, but everything was intact. We observed the damage to the aircraft and to Miss Mary who had previously not participated in this sort of thing. I was unable to obtain a pulse on her for some time although at no time was she unconscious. This is a phenomenon that I would like to offer in the interest of science. When the pulse was obtained it was 155. This was verified by Roy and we decided that we would have to make our way very slowly up to the high ground to avoid the elephants who were already starting to comment audibly on our presence.
We made camp at what seemed to be an old elephant-poacher’s camp since it controlled two main elephant paths and had behind it a small rise of ground topped by a steep rock up which no elephant could come. Roy and I cut grass and made a bed for Miss Mary, obtained wood for a fire and Roy went down to the ai
rcraft at least five times in order to send the usual Mayday signal, which in aircraft parlance is equivalent to the former SOS which has become quite notorious through publicity given by sinking vessels. I talked in wild dog to Roy and he answered in straight dog baboon. The elephants commented each time we spoke and in this way Roy knew where they were and how to best avoid them. We decided that our objectives were primarily to exist. First, to care for Miss Mary, who we did not know at that time had two broken ribs which were causing her considerable pain and from which she was never complaining at any point. Secondly, to conserve our supplies, thus rationing the one bottle of water, the four bottles of Carlsberg beer and the bottle of the Grand MacNish Scotch whisky which I will recommend without any hope of recompense.
We decided that after posting the usual signals for a crashed aircraft, we might have to wait a period of several days before being recovered since the terrain was not suitable for the landing of an aircraft and no landing strip existed.
We planned to prepare an emergency landing strip where a small aircraft could land. We rationed the Carlsberg beer, which was to be consumed at the rate of one bottle each two days shared among three people. We rationed the Grand MacNish, which was to be issued one drink each evening. The water we planned to renew from the Murchison Falls where there seemed to be a plentiful supply.
Roy had a gallon tin which had contained petrol at one time but which was suitable for carrying water from the falls. This left no problem about water except that we had a lengthy discussion of the type that occurs on this kind of picnic as to whether the tin would unsolder when placed on the fire to boil the water. This discussion, along with general discussion of alternative plans, was one of our principal ways of passing the evening until there appeared a herd of some 60 elephants who, as usual, approached in perfect silence except when they spoke among themselves.
By-Line Ernest Hemingway Page 42