An ivory trader in North Kenia

In order that there should be no misunderstanding on the part of the Wa’M’bu as to our calibre, El Hakim determined to pursue an aggressive policy, without, however, committing any overt act. We accordingly pitched our camp in the middle of one of their shambas, and helped ourselves freely to anything we fancied in the way of muhindi, etc. Their natural line of reasoning would be that a safari which had the effrontery to act in that way must be very powerful, and should therefore be approached with caution.

The result entirely justified our action; which was only what we expected, as with bullying natives, might is always right.

No natives came into our camp—a bad sign, though we saw many skulking round in the bush. They seemed very morose and sulky, but so far showed no signs of active hostility. We put on a double guard for the night, and went to sleep in our clothes; but we were not disturbed.

We did not travel the following morning, as we were without guides; and as no natives came into camp we resolved to capture one on the first available opportunity. At sunrise we got our first glimpse of Mount Kenia, and a wonderful view it was. Kenia is called “Kilimaro” by the Swahilis, and “Donyo Ebor” (Black Mountain) and “Donyo Egere” (Spotted Mountain) by the Masai; so called because of the large black patches on the main peak, where the sides are too precipitous for the snow to lodge.

Thompson[2] describes his first impressions of Kenia thus:—

“As pious Moslems watch with strained eyes the appearance of the new moon or the setting of the sun, to begin their orisons, so we now waited for the uplifting of the fleecy veil, to render due homage to the heaven-piercing Kenia. The sun set in the western heavens, and sorrowfully we were about to turn away, when suddenly there was a break in the clouds far up in the sky, and the next moment a dazzling white pinnacle caught the last rays of the sun, and shone with a beauty, marvellous, spirit-like, and divine; cut off, as it apparently was, by immeasurable distance from all connection with the gross earth. The sun’s rays went off, and then, with a softness like the atmosphere of dreams, which befitted the gloaming, that white peak remained as though some fair spirit with subdued and chastened expression lingered at her evening devotions. Presently, as the garish light of day melted into the soft hues and mild effulgence of a moon-lit night, the ‘heaven-kissing’ mountain became gradually disrobed; and then in its severe outlines and chaste beauty it stood forth from top to bottom, entrancing, awe-inspiring—meet reward for days of maddening worry and nights of sleepless anxiety. At that moment I could almost feel that Kenia was to me what the sacred stone of Mecca is to the Faithful, who have wandered from distant lands, surmounting perils and hardships, that they might but kiss or see the hallowed object, and then, if it were God’s will, die.”

While I am unable to rise to the dizzy heights of rhetorical description, or revel in the boundless fields of metaphor so successfully exploited by Mr. Thompson, I fully endorse his remarks. The first sight of Kenia does produce a remarkable impression on the traveller; an impression which does not—one is surprised to find—wear off with time. Kenia, like a clever woman, is chary of exhibiting her manifold charms too often to the vulgar gaze. One can live at the base of the mountain for weeks, or even months, and never get a glimpse of its magnificent peak.

We, however, could not stop to romance, as the enemy were even now clamouring without our gates; and we were reluctantly compelled to turn our wandering attention to a more serious business. It appeared quite within the bounds of possibility that we should “die” without even “kissing” the “hallowed object” so ably eulogized by Mr. Thompson; as the irreverent Wa’M’bu were making hostile demonstrations in the thick bush surrounding our camp, regardless of our æsthetic yearnings. They were apparently trying our temper by means of a demonstration in force, and such awful howlings as they made I never previously heard.

Our men became very nervous, and fidgeted constantly with their guns, looking with strained gaze into the bush without the camp. El Hakim was, as usual, quite undisturbed, and George and I succeeded in keeping up an appearance of impassive calm, and condescended even to make jokes about the noise, an attitude which went a long way towards reassuring our men, who watched us constantly. Any sign of nervousness or anxiety on our part would have been fatal, as the men would have instantly scattered and run for the border, with a result easily foreseen.

The morning passed in this manner, the Wa’M’bu continuing their howling, while we went through our ordinary camp routine with as much nonchalance as we could command.

We had lately lived largely upon vegetables, and now determined to give ourselves a treat, so we cooked our only ham, and made an excellent lunch on ham and boiled muhindi cobs. During the meal the war-cries of the Wa’M’bu increased in volume, and our men were plainly very much disturbed. They kept looking in our direction as if for orders; while we appeared as if utterly unaware that anything untoward was happening.

Presently Jumbi came up with his rifle at the shoulder, and saluting, stood a yard or so away from the table. El Hakim was busily eating, and studiously ignored him for a moment or two. Presently he looked up.

“Yes?” he said inquiringly.

Jumbi saluted again. “The ‘Washenzi,’ Bwana!” said he.

“Well?” interrogated El Hakim again.

“They are coming to attack us, Bwana, on this side and on that side,” said Jumbi, indicating with a sweep of his arm the front and rear of the camp.

“All right,” said El Hakim, “I will see about it after lunch; I am eating now. You can go.”

And Jumbi, saluting once more, went off to where the men were nervously waiting. His account of the interview, we could see, reassured them greatly. They concluded the “Wasungu” must have something good up their sleeve to be able to take matters so calmly.

At the conclusion of the meal we instructed our men to shout to the enemy and ask them as insolently as possible if they wanted to fight. There was a sudden silence on the part of the Wa’M’bu when they realized the purport of the words; but in a little time a single voice answered, “Kutire kimandaga” (We do not want to fight). We then invited their chief to come into camp, an invitation he seemed very slow to accept, but after long hesitation he mustered up sufficient courage, and walked slowly into camp, accompanied by one other old man.

He was a fine-looking, grey-haired old chap, and carried himself with great dignity. Negotiations were opened with a few strings of beads, which after a moment’s indecision he accepted. We then talked to him gently, but firmly, and asked the reason of the unseemly noise outside.

“Do you want to fight?” we asked aggressively.

He replied that the old men did not want to fight, but the young men did.

“Very well,” we said, still more aggressively, “go away and tell the young men to come on and fight us at once, and let us get it over.”

He then added that the young men did not want to fight either.

This was our opportunity, and, seizing it, we talked very severely to him, intimating that we were much annoyed at the noise that had been made. We did not consider it at all friendly, we said, and if there were any more of it, we should not wait for the young men to come to us, we should go to them and put a stop to their howling.

He appeared much impressed, and after a while returned to his people, and evidently delivered our message, as shortly afterwards the howling ceased.

We mustered the men in the afternoon, and inspected their arms and ammunition, as we were not at all trustful of the Wa’M’bu. We trebled the guards during the night, but contrary to expectation, everything remained quiet.

Early on the following morning the two old gentlemen returned to camp, and we immediately made them prisoners, informing them that they were now in our service, pro tem., as guides, and if they played us false they would be instantly shot. Our object, we told them, was to get through their country as safely and as expeditiously as possible, and it rested with themselves whether our object was accomplished without inconvenience to the inhabitants.

They both protested earnestly that they were our friends; so at 9 a.m., having struck camp, we commenced what, by the general indications, bade fair to prove the crucial march of the safari.

The country was very rugged, and most densely cultivated. M’bu seemed to be prodigiously rich in food. We saw thousands of acres planted with muhindi, stretching as far as the eye could reach. There were no boundaries between the shambas. It occurred to us that perhaps the Wa’M’bu, unlike the other tribes of A’kikuyu, owned the ground in common, but we had no opportunity of deciding this point, as the Wa’M’bu did not appear to us to encourage any degree of intimacy. Indeed, soon after the start we had proofs that they meant to make matters lively for us en route.

When we left camp, El Hakim with one guide took the head of the column, and George and I brought up the rear with the other. At every cross-path great crowds of warriors, fully armed, watched our passage in ominous silence. As soon as we passed they closed in on our rear and followed at a distance of two or three hundred yards, their numbers being continually augmented by other bodies who joined them on the road. The path lay through narrow valleys, and on the heights on each side were more bodies of natives who shouted at us, and informed us in a most insulting manner that they were coming to kill us. They really did seem inclined to try conclusions with us, and things looked very nasty for a time, whilst we needed all our wits about us to preserve some sort of discipline among our men.

George and I especially had a very difficult task in the rear, when crossing the small rivers, or spruits, of which there were many in the road. It was no easy task to keep off the armed bands of natives simply by moral force, without firing a shot, whilst we unloaded the refractory donkeys, and half pushed half dragged them unwillingly across a rocky little stream, and loaded again on the other side. In the meantime, in consequence of the delay, the main safari would have moved on and left George and myself alone with the six donkeys and as many men, and with something over three or four hundred aggressive Wa’M’bu within two hundred yards trying to make up their minds to attack us.

At such times George and I, leaving Jumbi to get the donkeys across, would face round with our rifles at the ready, and direct our reluctant guide to inform his bloodthirsty friends that if they came a step nearer the Wa’sungu would slay them with their guns. Our determined attitude, no doubt, prevented an actual collision, but we had an exceedingly anxious time, being within measurable distance of a violent death on several occasions during that memorable march. If we had relaxed our vigilance for one single instant we should undoubtedly have been attacked, and at a tremendous disadvantage. It could only have had one ending—an ending which would have effectually prevented this description being penned. I am still undecided as to the reason why we accomplished that march without a fracas. The Wa’M’bu, being a numerous and united people, are, therefore, very dangerous to tackle in their mountain fastnesses. The weak spot in most of the other tribes of that region is the fact that they are ruled by numerous petty chiefs, and have no cohesion and consequently no real strength.

El Hakim had no inconsiderable task in the van of the safari, as he had to keep his eye upon the other guide in order to prevent him from leading us into an ambush, and had also to verify his course by compass.

This nerve-wearying march lasted till sundown, when we reached a partially cleared shamba on the crest of a rounded hill, and pitched our camp. There were no materials for a boma, so that we were obliged to depend for safety during the night on constant watchfulness. We trebled the sentries, and slept in our clothes, keeping our weapons within easy reach; but we were not disturbed.

I do not think the Wa’M’bu quite understood us. We played a game of pure bluff throughout, and, strange to say, it answered perfectly, though personally I have no wish to repeat the experience—at least, not without a much larger quantity of ammunition than we then carried. They were strong enough to have utterly annihilated us, though no doubt they would have suffered in the process; and it speaks well for the prestige of the white man that we three were able to pass unharmed through the most difficult part of their country, literally surrounded by thousands of their fighting men. Our forty men did not count for much in the eyes of the Wa’M’bu, as they knew them to be natives like themselves, and comparatively easily disposed of in spite of their guns.

After pitching our camp we interrogated the two guides, and found that another hour’s march would take us out of M’bu altogether, and into another country called Zuka, with the inhabitants of which the Wa’M’bu were at enmity.

As we were not pining for the further company of the Wa’M’bu, we were up and moving before daylight on the following morning. In these cold misty highlands the natives do not turn out till the sun is well up, so that by starting early we were perfectly safe from their unwelcome attentions, and were over the border before they realized that we had departed hence.

To our disgust, we found that one of the two guides had managed to escape during the night; but we kept tight hold of the other, who was presently joined by another of his friends, so that we still felt safe about the road. After a difficult tramp, lasting over two hours, through thick jungle, we unexpectedly emerged on the edge of a vast ravine, one of the largest I have seen round Mount Kenia. It must have been several hundred feet deep, and perhaps half a mile across. The sides sloped sharply down at an angle of 120°, so that descent was quite impossible. One could fancy from its appearance that it had been cut clean into the lower slope of Kenia by a Titanic sword-stroke. At the bottom was the foaming torrent which served as the boundary between M’bu and Zuka.

Having learned from the guides that further down the river there was a place where we should be able to cross, we resumed our march in that direction, and, forcing our way through the jungle, skirted the crest of the ravine until we found the crossing. Though the sides of the ravine were still terribly steep, we scrambled down somehow, and at the bottom found a rude bridge thrown across the stream. It was simply a tree-trunk, but with a little care the whole party got safely to the other side. The animals we swam across, first taking the precaution to tie a rope round their necks. We then pulled them over to the other bank, and landed them safely, unappreciative perhaps, but alive and most certainly kicking.

As it was then about ten o’clock, we sat down and breakfasted, passing the time of day with a small crowd of Wa’M’bu, who had by this time collected on the slope on the side of the ravine we had just quitted.

At eleven o’clock we resumed the march. If the jungle in M’bu was bad, this side of the ravine was ten times worse, being one impenetrable wall of vegetation. The heat at the bottom was terrific, and we all felt its effects severely. Palms grew on every side, intermingled with giant forest trees, which were in their turn covered with exotic creepers, orchids, and climbing plants, thickly interlaced with rattans, which formed a solid wall extending right up to the summit of the ridge.

Our two guides now went on strike. They demanded to be released, as they declared that they would be killed on sight by the Wa’zuka. We offered to protect them from such an untimely fate if they led us safely to the top of the ridge; and we promised to send an escort back with them to M’bu. They seemed satisfied, and were permitted to go in front to find a path. A moment later there was a rush and a scuffle, and then dead silence. George and I hurried up, and found El Hakim swearing softly to himself over their sudden disappearance. It seemed that they had suddenly slipped round a tree-trunk, and vanished before anybody knew what had happened.

We looked blankly at each other, and wondered how on earth we were going to reach the top. However, wondering would not transport us there, so we called up two or three men with axes and knives, and set them to cut a path. In a few moments they discovered the remains of an old path, which was so overgrown as to be almost obliterated. In places it had been deliberately blocked up with tree-trunks and logs, evidently by the Wa’zuka, as a defence against raids by their warlike neighbours, which defensive preparations certainly gave us a vast amount of trouble.

Upwards we toiled in the broiling heat, streaming and half blinded with perspiration. After two hours’ hard work we had climbed about a third of the way up, and reached a little open space a few feet square, where, tired out, we sat down to rest, while some of the men were sent on to search for a path. All egress, however, was barred by heavy logs and trees. We then formed a working party with axes, and set them to cut a way through, while we had fires kindled and partook of a little food.

In an hour or so we heard glad shouts from our men, mingled with the vigorous blows of their axes; and then the voices of natives shouting encouragingly to them. We went to see what was happening, and found that the Wa’zuka had become aware of our presence, and, being also at enmity with the Wa’M’bu, were for that reason welcoming us warmly. They came down to us, and assisted our men to demolish the barricades, the path, by their aid, being soon cleared.

We resumed the march, and after another half-hour’s upward toil reached the top. Several times on the way up we passed mouldering corpses of a party of Wa’M’bu, who had made an ill-advised attempt at raiding some days before.

When we arrived at the top a scene of wonderful beauty lay spread out before our eyes, glowing red in the rays of the setting sun. Gently rolling uplands, covered with smiling plantations of muhindi and sugar-cane, dotted with the figures of women and children completing their daily task, stretched as far as the eye could see. The valleys between were already in twilight, and slowly filling up with the thin grey mist that envelopes these highlands at sunset, there remaining till the advent of the sun on the morrow.

The scene seemed so peaceful and still that I became absorbed in contemplation of its beauties as we strode along. Presently I kicked something as I walked, and, looking carelessly down, started and shuddered as a mutilated human head rolled out of my path. A glance round, and an unmistakable odour, showed me a little pile of corpses, partially devoured by the vultures and hyænas, which lay in the corner of the little plantation we were crossing, relics of the aforesaid Wa’M’bu raiders. A few yards away from the putrefying heap a group of women, with babies strapped to their bent backs, were planting beans and weeding their gardens, assisted by the elder children; while the younger ones played and prattled among the dirt, unconscious of the tragedy a yard or two away. It was a striking object-lesson of the native’s callous disregard of the presence of death.

At sunset the friendly Wa’zuka conducted us to a camping-place, and some of the elders brought us presents of sugar-cane and bunches of green bananas, which were divided among our men. The sugar-cane was excellent, and George and I consumed quite a large quantity. Before leaving they promised to send us a guide by the first thing in the morning.

I fancy the Wa’zuka, though they were so friendly, were anxious to pass us along to the next district as quickly as possible, and so be rid of us. They evidently did not trust us, and, in fact, regarded us with not a little fear, as, having passed through M’bu without being hurt, they naturally concluded that we must be very strong indeed, and that it was advisable to treat us with due respect, which, after all, is the proper frame of mind for a native. The knowledge of our security gave us a better night’s rest than we had enjoyed for some time.

As the promised guide had not made his appearance at seven o’clock next morning, we set out without him, and of course lost ourselves in consequence. The path we followed wound in and out of extensive plantations of sugar-cane, and eventually brought us to the edge of another of the vast ravines that radiate from their common centre, Mount Kenia. It was much too steep to descend, and we were forced to retrace our steps. We were now overtaken by our dilatory guide, who led us by a good path in a more north-westerly direction. We spent the morning dodging in and out of the plantations of sugar-cane, muhindi, and m’wele. As the sugar-cane was just ripe, and of good size and splendid quality, George and I and the men quite enjoyed ourselves. Large areas of the country were given up to the cultivation of bananas, but the fruit was as yet green and hard.

Late in the afternoon our guide informed us that we were now out of Zuka and on the border of the Imbe country. He further remarked that the Wa’Imbe were “very bad people,” and would be sure to make things uncomfortable for us. The prospect did not alarm us, however, as, after our experience in M’bu, we considered ourselves equal to any little tribe thereabouts; so we dismissed our guide with a present.

We had been vegetarians for a couple of days, so that when I shot a partridge, while the tents were being pitched, the addition to our larder was greatly appreciated, though one small bird between three hungry men does not go very far.

On the following morning we packed up, and, having consulted our compass, cast about for a path. A faint track was soon found leading approximately in the direction we wished to travel. For some hours we followed it over very rough gravelly and rocky country, with here and there outcrops of white quartz.

Late in the afternoon we came to a deep, swift stream, rushing tumultuously between grey granite walls, as perpendicular and smooth as a dock-wall. This narrow gorge was spanned by a rude bridge, consisting of three rough—very rough—hewn planks. El Hakim was ahead, and dismounting, walked across leading his mule. Halfway across the mule slipped and fell, and in endeavouring to recover herself, slipped again, and finally plunged with a terrific splash into the stream 20 feet below. She turned over as she fell and struck her back on a projecting knob on the cliff wall. Fortunately, the saddle saved her back from being broken, though the saddle itself was badly ripped. She disappeared beneath the surface, and remained under for some time. We feared she was drowned, but presently she rose to the surface, shaking her head in a very disgusted manner, and started swimming bravely against the current. One or two of the men jumped off the bridge and joined her, and succeeded in turning her head down-stream; and about half an hour later they turned up with her quite unharmed. They had swum down-stream till they found a ford, where they had scrambled ashore. The rest of the animals were sent down to the ford, and were got across without difficulty. There was a large hill with a flat summit a few hundred yards away, and we camped on the top.

The day had been exceedingly hot and dry, and we found that all the puppies, except one, that were born in Maranga were dead. The man who carried the bucket containing them had put his blanket over the top to keep the sun from them, and they had been suffocated. Their mother however did not seem to be much concerned.

We saw a lot of natives hanging about on the adjacent heights, but did not encourage them to come any nearer, bearing in mind the warning of our Zuka guide. We were now fairly in the Imbe country, and the next day would decide whether they were inclined to be friendly or otherwise.

The next morning on resuming the march the character of the country again changed. The quartz boulders and gravelly stretches gave place to pretty woodland scenery. Lovely stretches of greensward occurred at intervals, dotted with stately trees. Magnificent baobabs and tall sycamores (Egyptian fig) were numerous. The sycamores are called by the Swahilis “Mikuyu.” Unfortunately, they were not in fruit. It was quite refreshing to see the smooth green grass dotted with the gigantic stems of the baobabs, which gave us the idea of being in some beautiful park.

Presently we encountered some of the Wa’Imbe headed by their chief, who, to our astonishment, welcomed us most ostentatiously. They insisted on helping our men to carry their loads, and on learning that we wished to camp, the chief pointed out an open space that appeared to be the market-place. Our tents accordingly were pitched beneath the grateful shade of a group of sycamores, and we made ourselves as comfortable as possible, inwardly wondering what prompted this more than usually friendly attitude.

After we had eaten we held a “shaurie,” and the mystery was explained. It appeared that some three months before, the Wa’Igani, who are the neighbours of the Wa’Imbe on the north, arose in their might and smote the Wa’Imbe sorely, spoiling them of many sheep. The Wa’Imbe were not strong enough or not courageous enough to make reprisals, and hailed our arrival with great joy as possible avengers. They calmly proposed that we should accompany them, attack the Wa’Igani, and recover their lost property, and incidentally anything else we could lay our hands on that was worth annexing. We dismissed them with a diplomatic answer to the effect that we would consider the matter.

That night I felt very queer and feverish, and turned in early. I got no sleep, and when we started off early the following morning I was very ill indeed. I had great difficulty in sitting on the mule, while my eyes were so affected that I was hardly able to see. We traversed much the same country as on the day before, but being only half conscious, I did not take much interest in the scenery. El Hakim had a touch of fever also, and in consequence we made a comparatively short march, and halted and camped at midday. I went to bed immediately, and the rest of the day was a blank as far as I was concerned. The following morning I was too ill to move, and so the day was passed quietly in camp. I grew better towards evening, and went outside and lay in a blanket on the grass under a baobab tree.

The Wa’Imbe chief made us a present of a sheep, which was very acceptable, as, with the exception of that solitary partridge in Zuka, we had had no fresh meat for six days.

The next day, though very sick and dizzy, I was so much better that we resumed our march, and travelled for three hours, when we halted and breakfasted. After an hour’s rest we went on again. At four o’clock in the afternoon we discovered that we were in Igani. We saw natives hurrying hither and thither among their shambas, but though they were rather noisy, they showed no signs of open hostility. When we camped they came and visited us in large numbers. Once in our camp they appeared rather more ready to quarrel, and made a deal of noise; so much so that we were compelled to use force to clear the camp, our men belabouring them soundly with the butts of their rifles, which had a very salutary effect, as they at once grew much more respectful and well behaved. They went away, and returned later with some bunches of green bananas and a jar of very fair honey as a present. They came back early the next morning with a sheep, and desired to make “muma” (blood-brotherhood) with us; an honour we declined for the present, apparently to their great disappointment.

We then departed, and travelling rapidly, shook the dust of Igani from our feet. The next little kingdom on our route was Moravi, which we crossed in an hour or two, and finally entered Zura, where El Hakim was well known. We were now in the Limeru district, which comprises the whole of North-East Kenia, and contains numerous small districts, each ruled over by its petty chief. In the immediate vicinity of Zura are G’nainu, N’dakura, Munithu, Katheri, and Karanjui. To the north-east lay the Jombeni mountains, which are inhabited by the Wa’Embe. Between the Jombeni mountains and Karanjui was a small range of hills called variously “Chanjai” or “Janjai,” and between Chanjai and Embe resided the Wa’Mthara.

The destinies of Zura were presided over by a Masai named “Dirito,” who was a great friend of El Hakim’s. He had even then some cattle belonging to El Hakim in his charge. We were presently met by Dirito himself, a fine-looking man with a good reputation as a fighter, who appeared very pleased to see us, and welcomed us warmly. We camped just outside his village, which was surrounded by a very strong stockade, and soon afterwards he brought us a quantity of honey and some milk for our refreshment.