An ivory trader in North Kenia

On arriving at our M’thara camp we were agreeably surprised to find recent elephant spoor all over the place. Some of the tracks were very large—possibly those of the old bull I had encountered in the thorn forest. Jumbi, with some of the men, was at once despatched to N’Dominuki to inform him of our arrival, and to bring back to camp the loads of equipment and the stores and cattle left in his charge.

About two o’clock in the afternoon a native came into camp with the news that a couple of elephants were feeding in the thick bush only a few hundred yards from our camp. Snatching up our rifles, we hurried out in pursuit. El Hakim carried his ·577 Express, George the 8-bore, and I my ·303. Advancing cautiously through the jungle, we came up with the animals about 200 yards from camp. It was a very bad place in which to shoot elephants, as the bush was so thick and dense as to be almost impenetrable, and it also concealed our quarry from view. Now and again among the leaves we caught sight of a patch of brown hide or the tip of an ear, but nothing showed up well enough to justify a shot, though we were well within twenty yards of our quarry.

After a long and breathless wait we held a whispered consultation, and came to the conclusion that we might perhaps have a better chance from the opposite side. Leaving the native who had warned us of their presence safely ensconced in the fork of a thorn tree to watch the elephants, we, accompanied by Ramathani, succeeded in circumnavigating them, being lucky enough to reach the other side without being winded. There we found a small ant-hill, from the top of which we were able to see over the undergrowth. The elephants were then in plain sight about 150 yards distant. They were both bulls, one of them a magnificent old fellow with a very large pair of tusks. The other was a younger animal, with rather smaller ivories. The old bull was not the one I saw in the thorn forest before, as I had at first supposed, his tusks being of a different shape, being longer, but thinner, and not so discoloured. In spite of El Hakim’s knowledge of woodcraft, we were unable to get any nearer to them, the bush being too thick and solid. We waited, therefore, for some time, hoping they would come closer, as they were now between us and the camp, and what little breeze was stirring was blowing directly from the camp on to them; and we calculated that on scenting it they would come down wind, and so nearer to the spot where we lay concealed. However, they did not seem to mind the proximity of the camp, although, even from where we were, we could distinctly hear the men talking.

For two hours by the watch we waited, not daring to move, or venturing to speak above a whisper. At last we sent Ramathani by a circuitous route back to camp to call out the men, with instructions that they were to surround the elephants on every side except that on which we had taken up our position, and, by making slight noises in the bush, endeavour to drive them gently down in our direction. These instructions the men carried out; but to our great alarm the elephants showed a disposition to break through the line of beaters on the camp side. Fearing that we should lose them altogether, El Hakim, contrary to his usual practice, took a shot at the big bull at a little over a hundred yards. Bang! went the ·577, and a steel-tipped bullet crashed its way into the elephant’s shoulder. Turning instantly, he charged in our direction, followed by his companion; but when within forty yards the left barrel spoke, and they turned aside, and, smashing through the forest to our left, disappeared, followed by another shot from El Hakim, which caught the smaller elephant somewhere in the stern. We set off at top speed in their wake, but at first they outstripped us, though their tracks were plainly visible in the soft earth, and at intervals on the path we saw tiny flecks of blood. The stricken elephant was evidently bleeding internally.

At the end of an hour’s hard going, we could see by the freshness of the footprints that we were once more getting closer to them. It therefore behoved us to proceed with great caution, as an old bull elephant who has been wounded is apt to make himself unpleasant if it so happens that in the ardour of pursuit the hunter gets at all careless, and it is most disconcerting, on rounding a bush, to find the elephant’s head when one expected to see his tail. Suddenly, as we were creeping silently along, we heard a quick shrill scream of rage, apparently from the other side of some bushes twenty yards away. Thinking the wounded beast was about to charge, we hopped aside out of the path and behind the adjacent bushes with a celerity only to be acquired under similar circumstances. It was, however, a false alarm, as, on peering round the bushes, we saw both elephants standing in the jungle about a hundred yards distant, looking at us.

As soon as we made a move they turned and plunged once more into the bush, with us in hot pursuit. They, however, crossed a small stream that flowed through the bush a few hundred yards further on, and disappeared. When we reached the stream we found it to be so swollen by the previous few days’ rain as to be unfordable. We therefore returned to camp and despatched Barri and two others to follow the elephants, and to send word back to camp when they stopped once more.

On our return we found N’Dominuki in camp. He greeted us with every sign of pleasure, and we were just as pleased to see him, as his conduct during our absence was of the very highest order, and we regarded him as a very real friend. We had a long talk with him, and he confirmed the unpleasant news we had heard about the scarcity of food in M’thara and the hostile attitude of Bei-Munithu.

Just before dusk a report from Barri came to hand to the effect that the two elephants, after working round in a circle, were now not far from camp. Once more we set out, and after half an hour’s walk we reached the place where they were reported to be resting. Creeping stealthily up, we found that the big bull had succumbed to his injuries, and lay stretched out on his side quite dead. The other elephant, very much on the alert, was standing a little way off in the bush, and George and I immediately set out to try and bag him. He was, however, much too wary, and aided by the gathering darkness succeeded in eluding us in the thick bush, so we returned to camp in the hope that he would return during the night to his dead companion.

Early next morning, therefore, George and I set out in search of the other elephant, but he was nowhere to be seen, having evidently cleared out of the district for good during the night. After breakfast we went to the spot where the dead elephant lay, in order to chop out the ivory. He was a magnificent beast. I measured him with the tape as accurately as possible, and the following are the measurements which I jotted down in my notebook at the time:—

The distance between two spears planted vertically in the ground, one in a line with the sole of the foot and the other against the shoulder as he lay, measured 10 feet 8 inches, which may be taken as his height. From the forehead to the root of the tail the tape marked 13 feet 3 inches. Round the girth he measured 18 feet 8 inches; while the circumference of each fore foot totalled up 4 feet 8 inches, though, on measuring the tracks, I found they were fully 5 feet in circumference, an increase due to the expansion of the foot under the enormous weight of the animal. The tusks weighed 75 lbs. and 65 lbs. respectively, the lighter tusk having had a piece about 18 inches in length broken off from the end.

On cutting him up we found the steel core of a ·577 bullet in his chest, which might, from its appearance, have been there for years. It was of precisely the same pattern as those used by El Hakim, and as Mr. Neumann, the only man who had shot elephants at M’thara before, did not, so far as I know, use steel core bullets we came to the conclusion that it was a bullet which had been fired some two years previously by El Hakim at the same elephant, which had got away after being wounded. El Hakim said he had lost one or two elephants in this bush about that time, after wounding them.

The bush round North Kenia is very bad for elephant-shooting. It is terribly thick and leafy, and the elephants themselves very wild. Neumann, after a fortnight’s unsuccessful hunting in this place, became altogether disheartened, and, after a thorough trial of the district, came to the conclusion that he was wasting his time and strength, and gave up the task as hopeless. I was much interested in reading in Mark Twain’s “More Tramps Abroad” an extract from Gordon Cumming’s account of his experiences with an elephant which he gives in that book. It is such a quaint account, and is in such contrast to the modern sporting methods and ideas, that I make no apology for inserting it here:—

“Having planted a bullet in the shoulder-bone of an elephant, and caused the agonized creature to lean for support against a tree, I proceeded to brew some coffee. Having refreshed myself, taking observations of the elephant’s spasms and writhings between the sips, I resolved to make experiments on vulnerable points, and approaching very near, I fired several bullets at different parts of its enormous skull. He only acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk, with the point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking and peculiar action. Surprised and shocked to find I was only prolonging the suffering of the noble beast, which bore its trials with such dignified composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding with all possible despatch, and accordingly opened fire on him from the left side. Aiming at the shoulder I fired six shots with the two-grooved rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal, after which I fired six shots at the same part with the Dutch six-pounder. Large tears now trickled down from his eyes, which he slowly shut and opened, his colossal frame quivered convulsively, and falling on his side he expired.”

The next day the bulk of the men were still busily engaged in cutting up the carcase of the elephant, slicing the meat into strips, which they dried in the sun or in the smoke of their fires. As we were badly in need of grain food, we decided to send a party of men to Munithu and Zura to try to buy food, and also to bring back the few remaining loads of trade goods still in Bei-Munithu’s possession. Our purpose, as much as anything, was to test the temper of the natives there, and to see whether Bei-Munithu, now that he had heard of our safe arrival, was still determined to put his treacherous plans into execution.

In the mean time the men were busy gorging the elephant meat. A little M’kamba boy named M’waniki composed a song, which was sung with great success by a lady named Kinyala, who, with many others, had on the previous day joined their fortunes to those of our porters, in many cases deserting their husbands and homes in M’thara that they might follow the safari to Nairobi, which, to these poor creatures, was a vast and distant city of a splendour beyond their wildest dreams. Jumbi had strict orders not to allow any women in camp, but in spite of our frequent “drives” some of them managed to conceal themselves and escaped the general clearance. Kinyala attached herself to the modest and respectable Ramathani, and as she possessed some personal charms—to the mind of a native—that individual made no very strenuous objections. Well, Kinyala sang the song I have already spoken of, and it “caught on” tremendously; and, as a consequence, it was dinned into our ears day and night. It ran thus:—

Song of Kinyala.

Translation.

The above is a specimen, with a somewhat free translation, of the half song, half recitative, so dear to the native heart. It is generally impromptu, and contains at times a certain dry humour and caustic comment on current events that is quite unexpected.

Thinking that this was a good opportunity of making another trial of baked elephant’s foot, I caused a large hole to be dug in the centre of the camp, and a party of men were sent into the forest to gather sufficient fuel. When the fuel arrived, an immense fire was kindled in the hole. All day long it burnt, and in the evening we were rewarded by the sight of a glowing pit filled to the brim with red-hot ashes. With much trouble (the foot weighed nearly forty pounds, and the furnace was very hot) we placed the bulky tit-bit in the ashes, and then, building a large bonfire over it, we considered that we had done our part of the business, and hopefully awaited developments.

Several times during the ensuing twenty-four hours El Hakim or I carefully poked the fire with an iron bar in the endeavour to ascertain whether the foot was cooking properly. We were absolutely certain that, if it were not burnt to a cinder, it would be at least sufficiently cooked, and it was in high hopes that we should at last partake of the reputed dainty, that we disinterred it from the miniature crater on the following evening. Alas and alack! in spite of all our toil and trouble it was as indiarubber-like as its predecessor. Twenty-four hours in the fire had burnt the outside and reduced the foot somewhat in size, but the rest was as uncooked as if it had never been near the flame. This result, however, was entirely our own fault, as, on looking up the subject since, I find that we were entirely wrong in our method of cooking it. The true recipe, as given by Mr. Foa,[17] is as follows:—

“Take an elephant’s foot, preferably young and very fresh; remove the white flesh which covers the bone, and cut it into strips the thickness of your finger, reminding one of sticks of pâté de guimauve. Place the appetizing strips for two days in the sun to dry, and collect the pure fat which exudes from them in the form of clear oil. To make the dish known as mwendo wa nzou, take one of these strips, cut it into small pieces, put it into a saucepan containing a little water, place it on a gentle fire, and renew the water several times. When a jelly has formed, add to it the oil in which you have browned a few onions, a little thyme, etc., or an equivalent aromatic plant, one or two very strong chillies, and let it cook gently for twenty hours, still adding water when necessary. Serve hot, with manioc flour or grated biscuit separately.

“N.B.—This dish keeps several days, and only requires re-warming.”

So far, so good; but as our friend N’Dominuki did not keep a general store where we might have been able to purchase the few onions, thyme, and chillies, etc., required, it would not have helped us much even had we possessed this recipe at the time.

The weather now changed considerably for the worse, the fine, clear, sunny weather of the Waso Nyiro being succeeded by heavy rains and cold winds. These rains were nearly two months late, and the inhabitants of M’thara were half starving in consequence; but they came now with a vengeance, though they were too late to do any good to the bean crop. Day after day we endured a steady downpour, which killed off the sheep by twos and threes every night. Of the men whom we had sent to buy food in Munithu, half returned two days later. They reported that Bei-Munithu had refused to sell any food, though he had more than plenty, and he had also refused to give up the loads still in his possession. Furthermore, he had secretly planned to attack them during the night and put them to death. They had, however, received timely warning from a friendly native, and so escaped; some of them coming back to us, and the remainder going on to Zura to see how matters stood at that place.

A strange Swahili accompanied them. He had been one of Dr. Kolb’s porters, and had been left behind, sick, at Munithu. He asked permission to return to Nairobi with us, which we readily granted. He also confirmed the news of Bei-Munithu’s hostility, and his statements threw light on several little matters which had puzzled us. It now seemed more than probable that the whole of the G’nainu affair had been planned by that old rascal in conjunction with the Wa’gnainu, which would explain why those people were so completely prepared for us on the morning when we went into their country to demand our trade goods; and why they opened the attack without listening to what we had to say.

This Swahili was a peculiar-looking man, as at some time or other the end of his nose had been bitten off by a hyæna. The voracious brute had actually dashed up to where he was sleeping with other men round a fire, and, seizing him, had tried to drag him away. His companions awoke at his cries, and drove his assailant off with fire-brands. When the hyæna seized him, it had bitten his face and taken the end of his nose clean off. When rescued, he searched for and found the piece, and, sticking it on again, he secured it with a length of hair or fibre, which he passed over it and tied at the back of his head; however, the piece slipped and finally grew on to his face an inch to the left of its proper position, so that he had one nostril complete and in its right place, while the other grew apparently out of his cheek. He still kept the piece of fibre tied round it, and could not be induced to remove it, though the piece of nose was firmly united to his cheek. El Hakim offered to perform an operation in plastic surgery and replace it in its rightful position, but he steadfastly refused, and El Hakim did not press the point. This man turned out to be a very good drover, and rendered valuable service in that way on our march down country after leaving M’thara.

On the 18th October, after six days’ continuous downpour, the rain ceased for a couple of days. Thirty of the sheep had succumbed, and the others were very sick, as a large number of them were suffering from the effects of the unaccustomed exposure. As the men who had gone on to Zura had not returned, we sent Jumbi with several men to see what had become of them. We were very anxious to leave M’thara, but we could not venture round West Kenia without a supply of food in hand, as game might be scarce. The camp already commenced to smell very badly, as the rain had soddened the earth and converted it into a bog. The quantity of meat drying in the smoke of the fires was already six days old, and though it was relished by the men, we ourselves found the effluvia offensive.

During our stay large numbers of natives came into camp for medicine to cure the ulcers caused by “chiggers.” The chigger (Pulex penetrans) is a species of flea which is in the habit of selecting the sole of the foot or the flesh under the toe-nails as a place of residence. Once safely ensconced under the skin, the female chigger proceeds to lay large numbers of eggs, which are disposed in the form of a round bag, the size of a pea. The irritation produces a troublesome ulcer, amidst which the young larvæ appear. Some of the natives of M’thara had lost many of their toes through these pests. It was especially sad to see the little children with their feet horribly lacerated, who were brought into camp for treatment by their despairing mothers. Under El Hakim’s direction, I made a large quantity of ointment by mixing iodoform and powdered boric acid with hippo fat, and this was freely dispensed among the sufferers, their expressions of gratitude amply repaying us for any trouble we incurred in relieving them. I myself had been crippled for three weeks on one occasion by chiggers, and was therefore in a position to feel for the unfortunate wretches.

An “elkonono,” or native blacksmith, came into camp one day, and we got him to manufacture a few knives and ornaments for us from iron which we provided. He took up his quarters, together with a couple of his wives, in a shelter which we had built for the mules. His tools were very simple, consisting merely of a flat stone for an anvil, and a piece of round bar iron, 1½ inches in diameter and about 8 inches in length, slightly flattened at one end, which formed his hammer. He also possessed a very crude pair of iron pincers.

His forge, which was fed with charcoal, was formed by a hole in the ground, into which the air was forced from bellows through a short pipe of baked clay. The bellows consisted of a couple of goatskins with a clay nozzle at one end. The other end was open, the sides being sewn to two flat pieces of wood, to which small straps were attached. One of the blacksmith’s wives thrust her fingers through these straps, and, opening her hand and at the same time raising her arm, she filled the goatskin with air. The hand was then closed and the goatskin sharply compressed by a downward stroke of the forearm, and the air contained in it was driven out of the nozzle through the clay pipe into which it was inserted, and so into the glowing charcoal. She worked a bellows with each hand alternately, thus providing an almost continuous draught.

Our “elkonono” set to work and toiled away for three days “from rosy morn till dewy eve,” and at the end of that time had manufactured two knives and a couple of ornaments. We asked him if it was not rather slow work, and to our great disgust he remarked, “Yes, it is true I have not made much for you, but” (proudly) “I have made knives for all your children!”

On inquiry we found that whenever our backs were turned, our porters had gone to the “elkonono” either to have a knife made or repaired, and as a result he had done ten times more work for them than he had for us, though we were paying him and he was using our material. Our simple “elkonono,” however, professed ignorance, saying that he thought that in doing these little jobs for “our children” he was serving us; which might or might not have been the truth.

A deputation from the Wa’Chanjei came into camp on the 17th of October. They came ostensibly on a friendly visit, but really to see how the land lay. After they had spent an hour or two in our camp, they evidently came to the conclusion that we were quite able to take care of ourselves, and politely and silently withdrew.

On the 19th of October the rain ceased for a while, to our immense satisfaction. During the morning Jumbi returned from Munithu and Zura with the remainder of the men. He had seen Bei-Munithu and demanded that our loads should be given to him. He was met by an insolent refusal. In addition, Bei-Munithu sent an insulting and threatening message to the effect that “If the Wasungu themselves came to the door of his house with their guns, he would not give up the loads!”

Jumbi also reported that food was extremely plentiful in both Munithu and M’thara, but the inhabitants of those places, acting under instructions from their chiefs, point blank refused to sell us any.

The situation was now serious, and after dinner that evening we held a consultation to decide what was to be done. Leaving M’thara without a supply of food was out of the question, and to stay in M’thara was to court disaster. I therefore proposed to El Hakim that I should proceed to Munithu on the morrow with an armed party, leaving him in charge of the camp, and make a demonstration in force at Munithu, and see if that would not bring old Bei Munithu to his senses, and George volunteered to accompany me. As both El Hakim and I considered that such a proceeding would not entail any serious risk, he acquiesced in my proposal. We therefore determined that El Hakim should stay in command of the camp with one or two men—who, with himself, would, he hoped, be sufficient to defend it should it be attacked in our absence—and that George and I, with all the men who could be spared, should go over and endeavour to convince Bei-Munithu and Co. that we were better as friends than enemies.

Accordingly at noon on the following day George and I started for Munithu. We had sixteen men armed with Sniders, but we were terribly short of ammunition, possessing not more than seven cartridges per man, a fact which made the undertaking rather more hazardous. Considered afterwards, in cold blood, it seems to me to have been foolish in the extreme to have attempted to penetrate into a hostile country, so thickly populated as Munithu, with so few men and so little ammunition; but at the same time there was no help for it. Luckily, both George and I had a fair number of cartridges. I, as usual, carried my ·303, but George, whose rifle had once or twice missed fire, did not see the fun of risking his life with a weapon which might fail him at a critical moment; so he carried my 20-bore shot-gun with a supply of ball cartridges. These ball cartridges contained 2½ drams of powder, which propelled a spherical leaden bullet about the size of an ordinary marble, and a double-barrelled gun using them was a very ugly weapon up to a couple of hundred yards.

We pushed on till sundown, and camped at a distance from Bei-Munithu’s village, and turned in early, as we needed all our energy for the morrow.