The source of the Blue Nile

A very good impression of the character of the country through which we had been marching is given by Mr. Dufton’s short description of it. “The road was very uneven, now ascending a steep mountain-side, now descending into a deep valley. The country was magnificent, far surpassing anything I had previously seen. The high mountains of the Scotch highlands, covered with the fertility of the Rhineland, would best represent it, but the vegetation was of a nature quite different from that of the Rhine, characterized as it was by the luxuriance of the tropics. Once the road skirted the side of a mountain the summit of which, raised one thousand feet above our heads, looked down into a deep valley another thousand feet below our feet. On the opposite side of the valley the land rose to a similarly steep eminence, which, in one part, was connected with that on which we stood by a low chain of undulating ground, so that a pretty little stream at the bottom, like a silver thread in the dark shadow of the mountains, wound about searching for its channel. Fruitful fields hung over it thick at every curve. The hills, of secondary formation, were broken here and there into rocky chasms, through which leaped innumerable falls of water in their downward course to join the stream; and here I saw for the first time the beautiful Euphorbia called the Kolquol, whose dark, candelabra-shaped branches, tipped with bright orange-red flowers, stood out in deep relief from the lighter ground. Bright flowers of every variety, most of which were unknown to me, but amongst others the familiar wild rose, the honeysuckle and the jessamine, lent their beauty and fragrance to the scene.”[37]

The knotted sapling which I photographed in the course of this day’s journey (January 5) has an historical interest which tempts me to moralize on the variability of human fortunes and the happy tranquillity of vegetable life. The tree had been growing in this distorted form since the time of the battle of Gallabat, which was fought between the Dervishes and the Abyssinians in 1889. I have alluded elsewhere to the singular vicissitudes of the fight.[38] The Dervishes, in light order, pursued their foes as far as the lake district, a circumstance which shows that raids are possible even in this difficult country. The Mahdi’s men, like our own War Office on a more recent occasion, had extremely little geographical or topographical information. So the advance party twisted the saplings to mark the route for those who came after them, and to guide the force on its return journey to the Soudan. The trees are the only remaining memorial of the Dervish raid.

In this region I saw very few birds. But on the night of the 4th, while I was getting ready for bed, I heard one whose notes ascended through a perfect chromatic scale. My friend Dupuis told me that these songsters are common in India, where they are called “brain-fever birds.” Whether he spoke as a humourist or a genuine informant, I cannot say. In the Soudan I had often heard a bird whose notes reversed the process and descended the chromatic scale very perfectly. I omitted to suggest to my companion that he should import some of this species to India and try its performance as a remedy for brain fever.

On the morning of January 6, we started to climb to the plateau in which Lake Tsana lies. The ascent commenced immediately. The narrow track was extremely steep, and, as on the previous day, our path was full of loose stones and led us over great rocks that crop out of the mountain-side. The donkeys were constantly slipping and falling. Some came to a standstill, and refused to budge. We had to shove the animals by main force over boulders and up slippery ledges of rock, and at places not a few of them were raised bodily, loads and all, by means of their tails and forelegs, and lifted over obstacles. At this rate of ascending we covered two miles in three hours and a half, and still had a climb of another couple of miles ahead of us. Then the character of the track changed, and we travelled round a horseshoe-shaped chasm, following a path four feet wide, with a sheer precipice four hundred feet deep below us and another rising to the same height above our heads. It was a fine sight, and there is a lovely growth of cactus on the mountain side. Besides, we looked out upon a vast expanse of beautiful scenery, but I felt uncomfortably like the ungodly of whom the psalmist said that they were set in slippery places with a great risk of being cast down and destroyed. “Oh, how suddenly do they consume; perish and come to a fearful end!”[39] It was an inopportune moment to recall the text.

We reached the plateau at last, after another stiff climb upward from the chasm. I need hardly say that the donkeys were utterly fagged out. We had left the mimosas and the bamboos below us, and Dupuis’ aneroid barometer showed that we were some six thousand feet above sea-level. Here many species of cactus, large and small, abounded. The soil on the plateau is rich, and the ground was thickly covered with lush plants in blossom. I noticed, as I passed, the familiar “red-hot poker,” the wild strawberry, moss of many hues growing luxuriantly, the maiden-hair fern, and, on the trunk of a dead tree, the Tonbridge fern. Many springs were bubbling from the rock, and their courses were marked by the tenderest and brightest tints of this wild mountain garden. I found that Dupuis, who had marched at the head of the column, had been stopped by a couple of soldiers on the edge of the plateau. The Abyssinian “regular” has no uniform, but wears a dirty shama and the rest of the national costume, and carries a rifle of an obsolete French pattern. These men were not acting under Menelek’s orders but had been sent by the deputy of the chief of the village, who was himself absent upon a visit to Ras Gouksha, one of the great feudatories of Western Abyssinia. They said that they had orders to stop the three Englishmen, and I found that Dupuis had arranged to lunch at that spot and await developments.

Presently the “Deputy-Governor” arrived. He was barefoot, and his shama and linen trousers showed that he was a sound observer of Abyssinian custom in respect of cleanliness. He was escorted by some grimy fellows with forbidding faces who carried guns. The “Deputy” bowed low and shook hands with the three Europeans. Then Dupuis offered him a camp-stool for a seat and talked to him, Johannes interpreting. Menelek’s letter, giving us the right to pass freely through any part of his realm and calling on his lieges to assist us, was read, but to our consternation the “Deputy” refused to let us go down to the lake, which was eight miles distant, until we had received permission from his Ras.[40] Three days, he said, would elapse before this could be obtained. We gave him a drink of green chartreuse, and then he promised that he would allot a camping-ground to us about a quarter of a mile from Lake Tsana, but insisted that we must not pitch our camp on the shore.

After the palaver he remained to watch us. A skin had been spread for him under a tree a few yards distant from us, and he lounged on this, staring at us when we were near, and following all our movements as closely as he could without giving himself trouble. Long grass grew around our camp, and I noticed some tamarind trees. We strolled among these surroundings with our guns and shot a few wild pigeons for dinner. Great numbers of these birds are seen on the high ground. Then, more anglicano, we had afternoon tea.

After sunset the air was very keen, and we put on our thickest clothes. The variation between the heat of the day and the cold at night is extreme on the plateau, and of course it is sharply felt. We turned in early and slept in the open. Our guard lay around us; for we were in strange company. Besides the “Deputy,” who might be calculating whether it would pay him better to see what present we should offer and avoid the risk of complications, or to cut our throats as quietly as possible and loot the camp, we had as near neighbours a party of Abyssinian traders on their way to Gallabat with coffee. They had bivouacked under a tree close by. They might or might not be disposed to share in the pillaging, if any took place. In the land of the Negus it is well to remember that “no one is expected to feel ashamed of any crime or vice; and whereas in other countries men in committing serious crimes are morbidly excited, in Abyssinia they are perpetrated with indifference, and generally recounted, sometimes by the individual himself, certainly by others, with gaiety and laughter. . . . Theft is in many provinces regarded as an honourable employment; highway robbery is quite excusable, even if accompanied by homicide.”[41]

After all, we slept as peacefully as if we had been in Anerley or Tooting. On the morning of January 8, we rose when the sun had warmed the air, and ignored the presence of our dirty warder, who still kept us under observation. While we were breakfasting I saw a white umbrella approaching through the long grass, and shortly the priest of the village hard by came in view. Neither the hamlet nor its church was visible from our camp. This divine did not wear a turban, which is the emblem of priestly rank in Abyssinia, but had on his head the old straw lining of a tarboush. His other visible garment consisted of a length of yellow and plum-coloured chintz. He carried a staff surmounted by a cross of filigreed iron. One attendant held over him the white umbrella, which had a blue lining, another bore before him an open book, on one page of which appeared a picture—the quaintly stiff and gaudy depiction of saints and sacred persons which is an unvarying convention of Abyssinian art—and on the other page I saw manuscript in the Amharic or Geez character.

The “Deputy” approached the priest, bowed, and kissed the book, and some of his retainers followed his example. Then Johannes explained to us that it was customary for travellers to make an offering to the church of this village, which is on the boundary of inhabited Abyssinia. Dupuis asked what the usual oblation was, and the “spiritual pastor” had the effrontery to reply, through Johannes, that it was ten dollars. Upon this Dupuis remarked that we had been very badly received and were dissatisfied with our welcome, that hindrances had been put in our way in spite of the terms of the king’s letter, and that he should give no alms to any one.

This declaration disconcerted both the priest and the “Deputy.” The former departed without further parley. The latter continued to follow us and spy upon us. Dupuis and Crawley decided to disregard his prohibition and advance. They moved in front of the column, and took with them Johannes, his two attendants, and eight soldiers. I brought up the rear with a couple of mounted men for escort. My progress was not interrupted, and gradually Lake Tsana came clearly into view. I found, when I rejoined my companions at the camping-ground which they had chosen on the shore, that the “Deputy” had made an attempt to stop them when they were about five miles from the spot. He had given them to understand that they might see the lake, but must not go down to the water’s edge. Dupuis replied that he should regard no such order, and marched ahead. Upon this the “Deputy” shrugged his shoulders, and forthwith took his leave, saying that he must then return to his house, but that he would visit us in the evening, and supposed he would find us on the shore of the lake, as we were resolved to proceed thither. He had an answer in the affirmative, and departed, to the relief of the whole party.

CHAPTER VI

Lake Tsana lay before me as a vast expanse of blue water stretching to the horizon. The shore here, near the village of Delgi at the north of the lake,[42] is in places sandy, in others covered with grass. At some points one can walk to the edge of the clear water, at others the shelving bank leads, by a scarcely perceptible incline, to stretches of reed-grown, swampy ground. I saw no water-weed upon the surface.

The lake lies at an altitude of 1942 metres (6372 feet) above the sea-level. Its length from the mouth of the Magetsch to the outlet of the Blue Nile is approximately forty-five miles, and its breadth on the twelfth parallel of longitude is about thirty-seven miles. The map published in this volume is mainly reproduced from that prepared by Dr. Stecker for the African Association of Germany. How painstaking he was in collecting information may be inferred from the fact that during his excursions in the native boats he took three hundred soundings—an example of patient research which those will best appreciate who have seen a “boat” of the kind. Dr. Stecker gave the following results of his survey:—“Lake Tsana covers a superficial area of 2980 square kilometres. All the islands together possess a superficial area of about fifty square kilometres, of which forty are included in Dek, and four in Dega. I found the greatest depth between the island of Dega and Zegi, viz. seventy-two metres, while the deepest sounding between Korata and Zegi was sixty-seven metres. Between Dek and Adina the depth ranged between thirty-two and forty-seven metres. But I am fully convinced that the deepest places—in my opinion having a much greater depth than one hundred metres—are to be found north of Dek in the direction of Dega and Gorgora. One cannot, however, well venture to make an excursion to those parts in the fragile Abyssinian craft.”[43]

This beautiful lake is everywhere girt by mountains, and in some places they rise directly from its shore. As a consequence it is exposed to sudden gusts and squalls that sweep down the valleys and ravines, and these would make navigation risky for small sailing boats. Hippopotami swarm in the waters. The Abyssinians hereabouts—Christians and Mussulmans alike—regard their flesh as unclean; but the hippos do not “lead a very snug life,” as Dr. Stecker supposed. They are constantly harassed by the natives, who shoot them for the sake of their hides. From these are made the whips called coorbatch, which are in general demand and are much valued. Plowden wrote that “the crocodile, that is found in most of the large rivers of Abyssinia, does not infest this lake.”[44] So far as my personal observation goes, he was right. But, knowing the enterprising character of the Blue Nile crocodile, I should think it wise to verify the statement, while on the spot, by careful observation.[45]

I did not hear of the “Deputy’s” peaceful departure immediately on arriving at the lakeside, for neither of my comrades was in view. After a few minutes I saw one strolling towards me carrying a wild goose, which he had just shot with a rifle, and then the other appeared, coming from the opposite direction, with a brace of wild duck. It was clear that the lake country was well stocked, and that the expedition would fare sumptuously if it were not cut up.

All our tents were pitched by eleven o’clock, and we began to think of lunch. A man looks forward cheerfully to his meals in the fine mountain air. But on that morning anxiety about the future harassed our minds. However, I had no leisure to make forecasts, for I had to attend to one of our soldiers who had fever, and one of our boys who had dysentery, and then I found that I was appointed honorary surgeon to the neighbourhood, and that a patient was waiting. He was an old man, who had a large abscess in the sole of his foot, and had endured the affliction for more than a week. I operated, while his friends looked on. There was no superfluity of medical stores, and it seemed fair to make “the case” supply his own bandage. This, when produced, proved to be a piece of dirty shirting. It served, over sublimate wool, and the patient was very grateful and thanked me profusely.

Parkyns made some striking and interesting observations about the insensibility to pain displayed by the Abyssinians and the African races of all kinds.[46] He said, “I have never noticed in Africa any education for the purpose of rendering men patient under suffering,” and he attributed the power of endurance to the hardening effect of a rough, primitive life. How far this is the cause and how far the advantage may be due to a somewhat lower form of nervous organization than that developed in Europeans I will not attempt to determine. But surprising as are the facts related by Parkyns, I do not doubt that he has described them without exaggeration, and my own experience showed that the Habashes stood pain well, though I observed no inclination towards heroism among them.

When I had finished the public demonstration in surgery, I noticed a small throng of people around Dupuis’s tent. Their faces displayed their satisfaction, and I joined the group to learn what had happened. Then I heard that the true representative of Ras Gouksha had arrived, and that the “Deputy” was a fraud. The envoy who had now come into our camp had expected us to reach the lake by another track, and had taken his post to await us. This man greeted us with a most civil welcome, gave us teff,[47] eggs, milk, fowls—in fact, all the supplies which we chiefly needed—and offered to accompany us round the lake and see that we were everywhere treated with courtesy. He seemed a smart and “likely” fellow, and any one may imagine our delight in the prompt exposure of the “Deputy” and the dramatic change for the better in our situation. We gave our new friend a stiff drink of green chartreuse, which he swallowed at one gulp. Then he went off to collect further supplies for us.

A little later the “Deputy” returned to exculpate himself. He grovelled on the ground, imploring forgiveness. He had brought a sheep as a peace-offering, and when we had added this to our belongings, we graciously pardoned him. Upon hearing that he was absolved from his guilt, he stooped down and kissed a stone close to Dupuis’s feet.

We had had enough parley for the day, so Dupuis and I started upon an explorers’ tramp, carrying our guns. We walked about two miles in a north-westerly direction, and saw innumerable kinds of water-fowl along the margin of the lake. The birds were scarcely shy of us at all, and we approached within ten yards of wild geese before they rose. I noticed among the mass a species of goose like a big Muscovy duck, with dark green plumage and white feathers in the wings, plovers of all sorts, herons, pelicans, snake-birds, and the ibis in numbers. We shot none, for we had meat enough in store, and it would have been sheer slaughter to do so. I did, indeed, try my luck with some quail that took to the wing, but no harm came to them, and I was not sorry.

We returned to the village. It was pleasant to see kine again after the long march through the deserted border-country. They are here of the long-horned, hump-backed “Zebu” kind common throughout Africa and the East.[48] My friend Crawley had taken a rod and line to the edge of the lake. He landed a fish about 2 lb. weight, of the perch tribe. So we had a very complete menu. The cold was keen after sundown, but we had a cheery finish to our first day by the lake, after all. And it would hardly be possible to look upon a more lovely scene than that which we saw from our camp when the moon had risen.

We were not astir very early in the morning of January 8, and dawdled over breakfast until half-past seven; it is almost worth while to live a strenuous life at times in order to enjoy dawdling afterwards. Dupuis and Crawley set out with an assortment of gear to make a survey, and I amused myself with a butterfly-net and a camera.

Then I inspected my patients. Several came into camp from the neighbourhood, as I had expected. The old man with the abscess presented himself, and I found that the injured foot was healing well. He thanked me again very profusely, and I believe that after this second visit he departed to the village whence he came with a good opinion of European surgery. Another Habash found me less satisfactory as a physician. He had come to ask what medicine he could take to cure the headache caused by tedj. Now, tedj is the beer, or mead, of the country; it is made from fermented barley, and flavoured with honey diluted in the proportion of one part to three parts of water. It is a very heady—and, to Europeans, a most nasty—drink, and the Abyssinians consume enormous quantities of it. Parkyns was told of a man who was said to have swallowed twenty-six pints at a sitting, on the occasion of a wedding-feast at which the English traveller was present. But he regarded this statement as “a stretcher.”[49] I told the inquirer that the one and only prescription was not to drink tedj, and thereupon the little audience of his fellow-countrymen enjoyed a laugh at his expense.[50]

I was glad to see that the servants set to work to wash their clothes with soap in the lake. The cleansing was needed. Soon the tents in our camp were draped with garments enough to occupy the wash-lines of a whole suburb. The lake had a pleasant temperature for bathing, and the men stayed in the water till their clothes were dry.

On this morning we had a visit of ceremony from another priest, whose umbrella was of many colours. His attendants were a boy dressed in plum-coloured chintz with a yellow scroll-pattern on it, another boy, who was naked, and carried a bell which he tinkled incessantly, and three Abyssinian students. These learn to read and write the Gheez language, and I think the Bible is the only book which they study. They are lads from the villages who are “candidates for orders,” and the theological classes are held in the church-porches. I secured two satisfactory snap-shots of the priest. He received an oblation of five dollars with an absolutely impassive face, and then left us in doubt whether he was secretly gratified by the amount of the offering or inwardly disgusted by it.

Dupuis and Crawley resumed their survey work in the afternoon, and I strolled away from camp with my gun and brought down a lesser bustard, of the size of a turkey. I also shot a brace of quail, but lost them in the long grass. Altogether it was a quiet day. The climate was now very pleasant, neither too hot at noon nor too cold at night. In the early morning there was a dead calm. After this a little breeze came down from the north-west, and the wind remained in that quarter till the afternoon. At four o’clock it shifted right round to the south-east, and blew pretty stiffly about seven. We always saw lightning in the evening. It seemed to play over the lake.

On the morning of the 9th Dupuis and I got our Berthon collapsible boat ready. This had caused us much trouble on the upward march, as it is awkwardly shaped for donkey-transport. We took our guns and angling tackle, and paddled about three miles westward. Then we landed on a sandy beach, left two of our boys in charge of the boat, and went in search of game, taking one man with us. We had not walked far when we sighted a covey of guinea-fowl. We got ahead of them, and were trying to drive them towards the water when about forty rose in all directions, and we could not reload fast enough. Several were lost in the thick grass, chiefly owing to the boy’s stupidity; he could not make up his mind which bird to pounce upon first. As we were returning to the beach by the way we had come, Dupuis put up a brace of partridges and shot them. They must have “sat tight” all through the fusillade, and only rose when my companion nearly walked them down. We carried about ten head back to the boat.

When we came to the shore we found our two men in a state of great excitement. As soon as the guns were fired a hippopotamus that had been asleep about ten yards from them sprang up, and rushed into the water, snorting. The beast had nearly frightened them out of their wits. Looking at the path I had followed after landing I saw that I must have passed within a yard of the place where the hippo lay. The men now drew my attention to something in a tree, but I could not discern at first what they were pointing out. After peering for three or four minutes I saw a pair of gleaming eyes above a branch in the deep shade. I fired with number four shot—the only size I had—at a distance of about ten yards, and down came a civet cat. It was hit in the head and dead, when I picked it up.

We tried our luck with the fish while the men paddled us back to camp, but caught nothing. I set about preserving the skin of the cat after lunch, rubbed some arsenical soap well in, and packed the hide in an empty cigarette tin. It was brought to England in good condition. While I was busy in this way, my comrades were taking soundings of the lake from the boat. Later we went out together with our guns, and added two bustards, three partridges, and a quail to the stock in the larder.

During the day, whenever I was in camp, I was importuned by patients; many had trivial ailments, and others troubles, such as chronic ophthalmia, which I certainly could not cure during a three days’ sojourn at Delgi. If they judged that I was not sufficiently moved by the account which they gave at first of their malady, they described what they suffered from another, and a fictitious one. Thus, if I told a man who had chronic ophthalmia that I could not help him, he would remain to declare that he was consumptive, or that his feet needed treatment. They became so tiresome at last that I was thankful for the prospect of resuming the march next day. It seems to be taken for granted in all countries that a doctor ought to be more long-suffering than any other person.

On the morning of the 10th I received, by Abyssinian post, a letter which had been despatched from Port Said on November 25, the day on which I left Cairo. It reached me by a roundabout road; for it had been to Wady Halfa, Berber, Kassala, Sennaar, and Gallabat. I was surprised that it came to hand. The postman was a Soudanese black, and, when we met him, he was on the return journey to Gallabat bearing some official communication. These couriers carry before them—like a wand of office—a long cane, which is split at the top. The “mail” is inserted in the orifice. The cane is a badge that is respected, and I was told that the letter-carriers are never stopped. They amble along at a steady jog-trot, and cover a great deal of ground in a day.

We made a short journey of about ten miles to the eastward after leaving Delgi. Our road kept us some little distance from the northern shore of the lake, and took us through long jungle grass, so tall that we could not see over it, and so thick that there was no possibility of using a gun in it. We camped on a spot where this grass had been beaten down, and spent the afternoon reading. There were no mosquitoes, but the flies swarmed into our tents, and we sympathized with Pharaoh and the Egyptians.

Several of the boys from the Soudanese lowlands had a touch of fever on this high ground. Three were on my hands that day. Quinine was a quick and sure remedy for them. I think that they were affected by the great change of temperature between midday and nightfall much more than Europeans.

The morning of Sunday, January 11, was very cold, and the thermometer stood at 31° F. just before sunrise. I noticed that it always rose to a point above 80° about noon, and these figures will give an idea of the effect of the variations. The servants were shivering when they served our breakfast, but at half-past seven we took off our overcoats, and when we started at a quarter-past eight the day was warm. Our road lay through tall grass, and took us over undulating country, and then up a long, gradually rising slope to Tschenkar, where we arrived at one o’clock. This was by far the largest village that we had yet seen in Abyssinia.

Tschenkar is four miles distant from the lake. As we travelled we had skirted the base of the promontory called Gorgora, which lay on our right hand. This is very lofty ground. Stecker ascended to the highest point of it, the summit of the mountain called Goraf. He found by barometrical measurement that this was 2134 metres above the level of the sea, and recorded the following interesting observations: “This excursion yielded very important results in relation to the geological formation of the mountain chain. I found on the high ground extensive remains of a great stream of lava which I could trace down to Lake Tsana. There were craters half filled up and very considerable volcanic cumuli. The upper strata of the mountains consist of crystalline schist, but the lower are composed of the same sandstone formation in which tertiary coal deposits were discovered at Tschelga.”[51]

In an interview reported in the Egyptian Gazette, Mr. William MacMillan spoke disparagingly, as it seems to me, of the resources of the country.[52] I dissent completely from the opinion that Abyssinia has little to offer to commercial enterprise. Its potential wealth is enormous, and if difficulties of transit could be overcome—which means, in this connection, if the Blue Nile could be made navigable—I believe that a vast and most lucrative development of commerce and industry would follow. As the question appears to me to be of great importance, and as I think that Mr. MacMillan’s words may spread a quite erroneous impression, I hope the reader will forgive me for bringing forward the following evidence.

Consul Plowden reported in his “General Survey of Abyssinia,” 1852-53: “Gold and copper exist, and iron is found in great abundance; plains of sulphur and various salts, in the province now occupied by the Taltals, supply all Abyssinia with those commodities: and other wealth may lie hid in that volcanic tract. A search for coal would, elsewhere, be probably successful.”[53]

Dufton visited the district of Tschelga with M. Lejean, the French Consul, who was then taking gifts from the Emperor Napoleon III. to King Theodore. M. Lejean found, when he attempted to make observations in this neighbourhood, that “the ferruginous nature of the rocks destroyed the determinative power of his delicate compass, sometimes, when placed on the ground to a matter of 90 degrees. The presence of iron was further evidenced by the slimy yellow deposits of oxide which some of the mountain rivulets make in their course. Beds of an inferior coal we also found in the plain of Tschelga, laid bare by a small stream which had dug for itself a passage of some forty feet deep. The fact of the presence of coal, not only here but also in many other parts of Abyssinia, seems to point to sources of wealth possessed by this country, which only an enlightened government is required to open out.”[54]

Mr. Vivian considers that the “one insuperable objection” to industrial enterprise in Abyssinia is “the monstrous craft and subtlety of the Abyssinian.” He wrote, “You or I might spend ourselves and our treasures in discovering coal, or copper, or iron, or gold, or emeralds; we might call new industries into being and establish an era of prosperity; but the Abyssinians would take all the profit, and we should be left out in the cold.”[55]

It seems to me, if one may say so without flippancy, that the introduction of a few mineowners from the Rand would soon show the Abyssinian that he is “a child in these matters.” A fertile country with an enormous range of climate, capable of well-nigh infinite variety of production, well watered, well wooded, and endowed with gold, iron, and coal is something more than a small mart for American shirtings and Russian oil.

To return to Tschenkar. The soil in this region is very rich, and there is a considerable cultivation of durrha and other grain and of chillies for cayenne pepper. This is the condiment universally used in Abyssinia. It is cooked with or added to every dish, and the natives, including the children, eat it in quantities which scorch the most hardened European gullet. When it is remembered that the Habashes usually eat their meat raw, not even rejecting uncleansed tripe,[56] and that they are constantly passing from fasts which they observe with superstitious rigour[57] to an excess of gluttony, that they are immoral from their early years,[58] and that drunkenness is an uncensured habit even among the priests, it is surprising that the race has retained its vigour. I am, however, bound to say that the Abyssinian is, normally, hardy and cheery. No doubt the weakly die in infancy or childhood, and the development of those who survive is greatly helped by the fine air in the upland country.

I made inquiry of our interpreter Johannes as to the system of land tenure here, and was interested to learn that the “Lord of the Manor” leased ground to tenants on the métayage system. He himself paid tithe in kind to the Ras. I fancy the landowner takes the lion’s share of the crops; and the peasantry are heavily mulcted by the priests and scribes. In addition, it is the rule that all guests of the Ras, when travelling within his fief, must be supplied with food by every village at which they halt. So the farmers have to thrive on what is left.

We were, officially, guests of the Ras. In consequence we found that gifts of teff, and poultry, and eggs were brought in without stint. All are cheap commodities in Abyssinia. Augustus Wylde calculated that at Bohoro in the Yejju province, when he was there, fowls were selling at a rate which would have given eight hundred and eighty for the pound sterling, and that the same sum would have purchased eight thousand eight hundred eggs.[59] The eggs presented to us were nearly all bad, a fact which might be due to a misapprehension about European taste or to a feeling that waste articles might fairly be got rid of as unrequited tribute. The fowls made good eating, but they are very small birds. I do not think the Habashes, at the end of the reckoning, had much reason to regret our presence.

In the evening we received a visit from the priest, a pleasant, fine-looking old man. He wore the turban of his class. We promised to see him at his church early on the following morning and present an offering.

The dry grass had been fired in places around the village, and the flames showed impressively after nightfall, though their effect was dimmed by the light of the moon, which was nearly full. We had no reason to fear being burned out of our camp, for the stalks had been beaten down all about into a matted mass. But clouds of smoke and showers of blacks from a conflagration close by would have given us more discomfort than we bargained for, and we watched the drift of the fires in the light, varying winds with interest. Luckily, trouble was not for us that night, and we turned in, with all the contentment of the well-fed Briton, and slept in peace.

CHAPTER VII

The priest showed us round the building. The walls are decorated with the usual extraordinary “sacred subjects,” treated in the manner which convention strictly prescribes. St. George and the Dragon and the Virgin Mary are almost invariably depicted, and I was fortunate enough to obtain some clear photographs in the church at Korata,[60] which exemplify the singular devotional art of the Habashes. At Tschenkar there were some rude carvings of cherubim and designs of the Virgin drawn with burnt wood on the doorways. We were not admitted to the sanctum sanctorum.

Outside I obtained a photograph of the theological class, which was composed of one teacher and four pupils. Their library consisted of a single book. I could not, of course, decipher the text, but the volume had the appearance of a very dirty and greasy manuscript missal. Probably it was a copy of the Scriptures, in the Gheez language. There was a quaint thatched belfry in a tree, which looked like a primitive bee-hive or an old bird’s-nest.

We had ordered that the baggage donkeys should be loaded and take the road while we were at the church. But we found that confusion always arose if no European was present at the start, and on this occasion, when we had spent some forty minutes with the priest, and then made our way to the track which we were to follow, we beheld no trace of the expedition. When the train did draw in sight we found that one part had been separated from the other, and the two divisions were approaching from opposite sides. It was only a slight contretemps, but we lost an hour by it on a day when we had a long march before us. Matters were righted and we moved ahead.

Dupuis and I were bringing up the rear. At half-past eleven we found that the whole expedition had halted on the bank of the river Magetsch, and one of the guides was insisting that we must camp there. He seemed to have no reason for the choice except that there was water in the stream and that the place which we purposed to reach, called Ambo, was, in his opinion, too far off. All the Habashes were of the same mind as the guide, but we did not take their view, and set to work to cross the river.

Here—about a mile and a half from the lake—the current was some twenty feet wide. It was clear and shallow, running over a shingly bed in a ravine. We forded it without difficulty, and moved on towards the camping-ground which we had selected. We arrived at the place shortly after two o’clock.

Our route crossed the two effluents of the lesser Gumara River not far below Wansage. A concise and interesting account of the geology and botany of the river-valley at that place has been given by Dr. Stecker.[61] This morning while we were on the road we met the “Sultan of Delgi.” The “Sultan,” notwithstanding his title, is a subordinate official, the tax-collector of a district. It was this man whose “Deputy” had met us when we arrived on the plateau and raised difficulties. We found the “Sultan” a very affable old man. He shook hands with us, asked if matters went well with the expedition, and if we were in need of anything. This was the more satisfactory as he was then returning from a visit to the feudal lord of the district, Ras Gouksha.

The village of Ambo was destroyed by the Dervishes, and had not been rebuilt. The site of it is on a beautiful little bay of the lake, which at one part has a sandy beach that shelves into the clear water and at another is bordered by a thick fringe of reeds. Snipe swarm in these. There was no cultivated ground at this spot, and no timber or “scrub.” Tall grass was growing everywhere, and I have no doubt that the soil is extremely fertile.

The tents were pitched, and after lunch we took out our guns to replenish the larder. We made a bag of some half-dozen snipe, and saw an abundance of geese—but they are not very good eating—herons, and other large and small water-fowl. On the way back to camp we put up a flock of crown crane and could have brought down some of them. They are excellent at table; but it seemed a scandal to kill such fine fellows, and we did not shoot. These are noble-looking birds.

In the afternoon some natives passed the camp, who had shot a tree-boa. They were carrying the skin. Without the head, which they had cut off, the snake measured ten and a half feet. As we had avoided camping at a village—a course by which we cheated innumerable vermin—we had no evident claim on any hamlet for free viands. But I found that a fowl and some eggs had been brought into camp, and, to do the Habashes justice, I do not think they grudged the tribute in kind which our presence exacted from them. It is a custom of the country to offer a gift in order to receive one of greater value in return, but the rural folk of the lake country had no such motive—as far as I could see—in furnishing supplies.

We started on the following morning at a quarter to eight. The temperature was then below the freezing-point, and we felt the cold keenly. Our road lay, for some distance, through the tall jungle grass, but when we emerged from it the scenery changed completely. We entered a broken, mountainous district, where the heights rise directly from the lake, and the traveller passes from one surpassingly lovely vista to another. Many palms grow here, and the banks and dells are covered with wild flowers—a varied, abundant growth excelling even that which we had seen on reaching the lake plateau. Great numbers of butterflies, large and small, familiar and unfamiliar, some of sober hue, others brightly gorgeous, were flitting among the blossoms. The giant hemp abounds here, and the stems, some eighteen feet high, tower above one. At that season the daytime and the evening were alike cloudless. The whole region is fertile and charming.[62]

It is—for that country—thickly populated. There are many villages, groups of scattered tokhuls, and as we advanced we found these yet more numerous. They lie, perhaps, four miles apart on an average. Cattle are seen in all. Very few cases of serious sickness came to my notice hereabout, and the people generally seemed healthy, as well as prosperous. I saw no money in circulation, and all trade appears to be carried on by barter.

As we drew near to our halting-place for the night, those who were leading our column came upon two tokhuls full of Habashes. They were about fifteen in number, and, as they carried rifles of an old French pattern, there is very little doubt that they were soldiers. I was in the rear, and when I passed them they were squatting on the ground and staring at those who rode by in a manner that was evidently meant to be grossly insulting. Moreover, they had kindled the grass on both sides of the track, and we were obliged to trot ahead in the midst of smoke and flames. Oddly enough, both the donkeys and mules took the adventure quite quietly, though the fire was close enough to singe their hair and burn their feet. The Abyssinian “regulars” are a class apart, and are unpopular; they are mostly rapacious, hectoring, and ill-conditioned, and are a bane to all from whom they can levy exactions.

Our camping-ground was close to the village of Tschera, which stands on an islet near the lake-shore. It is reached by wading through about fifty yards of water lying over firm sand. Further out is the pretty island of Mitraha, on which we could see houses and a church. My companions took out the boat and their guns and brought back a brace of duck and a green pigeon. Earlier in the day five guinea-fowl had been added to the larder.

We sent two soldiers to buy meat for the men. They purchased five sheep, for which they paid four dollars. This works out at a rate of about one and sixpence per sheep, English money.

We did not intend to resume the march on the following morning, so none of us rose before half-past six, when “the day was aired” a little. The lowest reading of the thermometer at night had been thirty-two degrees. After breakfast, we three Englishmen and Johannes the interpreter started in the boat to visit Mitraha. It is a hilly, tree-clad little island with a population consisting of six families. The people welcomed us on our approach and guided us through a channel between rocks to a good landing-place. They seemed pleased to show us over the ground.[63] It is a perfectly pretty islet, with quaint thatched cottages among foliage and a ruinous old church, and—for historic interest—it contains the tomb of an ancient king of Abyssinia, John by name. We visited the sepulchre and saw the open coffin, which was full of an agglomeration of bones. If they belonged to the dead monarch, he must have been the boniest man that ever lived, and embarrassed, into the bargain, by possessing two right arms. However, it was an article of belief with everybody on the island, including the priest, that nature had once contrived to stow all that “anatomy” into one human body.

The island is traversed in all directions by narrow tracks marked by trodden leaves, and there is a thick undergrowth of weeds, thistles, and thorns. In this tangle I saw numbers of large spiders’ webs, from three to four feet in circumference. The spiders are about the size of a shilling, with a speckled abdomen and legs of enormous length. I saw none of this species on the mainland.

The islanders had poultry but no cattle. We asked them about their food. They said, “We eat durrha when we can get it.”

“Don’t you eat fish?” we asked. “Surely, there are plenty of fish in the lake.”

“No,” they answered emphatically. “After King Johannes was killed by the Dervishes[64] all the fish disappeared.”

It is quite likely that these people are too idle even to cast a net,[65] for it is notorious that fish of many kinds and of large size abound in Lake Tsana; but, knowing how superstitious the Habashes are, I would not vouch for it that they did not sincerely believe what they said. Probably they have little intercourse with the mainland and invent their own news.

They took a keen interest in our boat, and asked many questions about it. Their own rafts, called tankoa, consist merely of a bundle of papyrus reeds strung together with strips of hippopotamus hide and stiffened by a bamboo in the centre which serves as a kind of keelson. They do not use a sail, but punt or paddle with a pole.

When we had finished the tour of the island Dupuis presented five dollars to the church and community and thereupon received the ceremonial blessing of the priest.[66]

We returned to camp. During the afternoon I tried my hand at butterfly-hunting, fly-fishing in a sluggish stream near by called the Kumon, and shooting beside the Lake. It was all pleasant enough sport, but I had poor luck. The butterflies that were worth catching were always seen when we were in “marching order,” and my net was packed up. When I cast in the Kumon my tackle mostly got foul of the reeds and the weeds, and while tramping along the shore I found nothing to shoot, unless it were a huge hippo who was basking in the sun about three hundred yards out. I should have been impar congressus Achilli if we had tried conclusions, so I did nothing to provoke enmity.

In the afternoon I was on medical duty for native patients. The first was a poor little fellow about seven years old, who was covered from head to foot with craw-craw, a kind of aggravated scabies. He was brought to me by his father, to whom I gave half a cake of soap, and bade him take the child to the water and wash him. I saw that this was properly done, and then treated the boy’s skin with a weak solution of corrosive sublimate and afterwards smeared boric ointment over him. The father was set to wash his son’s shama with the remainder of the soap—an office of cleanliness which had been neglected at home in accordance with Ethiopian usage.

My other patient was a man whose upper eyelids were inverted (entropion), as a result of ophthalmia. This malady is very common in the country. I removed the eyelashes with a forceps and applied ointment, but the extent of the injury was already so great that little good was likely to come from my intervention. The Russians maintain a Red Cross Mission at Addis Abbiba,[67] which has established a hospital on an adequate scale. Here natives receive treatment free of charge.[68] European medical aid is sorely needed in the country, and I wish that it might be found practicable to support a British medical station in Western Abyssinia. Our popularity and prestige would be increased by this step. An opportunity would be given for valuable observation and research, and the benefit to the inhabitants would be incalculable.

Gifts of bread (teff), eggs, and fowls were brought into our camp in plenty, and some liberal Habash sent us a big jar of honey, the comb and all packed in together. It was a welcome and useful present, and served as a luxury in lieu of jam, of which we had a short supply. The size of the jar—it rather suggested the lurking-places of the Forty Thieves—embarrassed us, and we did not wish to carry quantities of honey-comb through Abyssinia. So we consulted Johannes. He told us to heat the jar until the honey just boiled, skim off the wax and pour the clear liquor into bottles. Fortunately we had saved empty bottles, and we filled up all we had; but half the jar remained after that, and had to be returned to the giver. All three of us were interested and busy in melting the honey and straining it through a piece of mosquito curtain, and were splendidly sticky and messy when we left off.

While we were in the kitchen-quarters, we heard a loud grunting and snorting about twenty yards away, which made the ground tremble, and recognized at once that a hippo was in the reeds there. This badly frightened the cook, who slept in the tent nearest that spot. We had to assure him solemnly that the hippo would not carry out a night attack upon him.

We struck our camp next morning (January 15), and marched to the River Reb. The boat was brought into service in crossing it. At one part the stream was about four feet six inches deep, and though this dip in the bed was only a couple of yards wide, it prevented the baggage animals from walking through. The water was shallow over the rest of the ford, so that they could keep their feet. All the mules and donkeys were unloaded while we lunched. The boat was quickly got ready and about half-past two Crawley pulled across with his first cargo. After he had had about an hour of the work, I took my turn. Dupuis was superintending the pitching of the tents and the stowing of the loads on the further side of the river. Then the fun began with bringing the baggage animals over.

There was no great difficulty with the mules. One gave a lead, and then the rest swam across, the boys swimming beside them. But with the donkeys it was a different matter. The men tried coaxing them, leading them, whacking them. It was all no good. The donkeys settled into the firm, resolute stubbornness of their kind, which is invincible, and it seemed as if the expedition would be left in the condition of a wasp that has been cut through the middle—the active half in one place and the “portage and storage” half in another. Sunset began before progress had been made, and the air was quickly becoming colder. Finally we solved the problem by brute force. Five fixed nooses were tied in a long rope, and five donkeys’ heads were put in the nooses. Then we, on the further side of the stream, hauled on to the rope. It was a “tug of war,” and we moved the donkeys. Then one of us took the rope back in the boat, and the next batch came over by “cable ferry.” There was a chance that the donkeys would struggle and strangle or drown themselves, but all were pulled across without casualties. The last three made the journey just after six o’clock. Of course our men had to be in the water with the beasts to steady them, and keep them in place, and all worked with a will. Some were in the stream, off and on, for three or four hours, and the cold was sharp when the sun sank. Unluckily there was no wood near our camping-ground, so they had no fire to cheer them afterwards, and could not dry their wet clothes. The Habashes, when they cross a ford of this kind, roll all their garments into a bundle, which they carry on their heads while they swim or wade. We were all sorry for the mischance which denied the boys warmth after a wetting, and we served out a nip of green chartreuse to those who had been in the water longest.

On the next day, January 16, we had before us the business of fording the river Gumara, and, to avoid a repetition of the trouble with the donkeys, we determined to strike away from the lakeside, so as to reach the stream where we could go over on foot. Dupuis found that this route would bring him close to the Debra Tabor road, and at once resolved to set off, on the following morning, with a light baggage train, to pay a visit of thanks to Ras Gouksha, who was at that place. Crawley was to accompany him, while I stayed in charge of the camp.

It was a short march from our halting-place beside the Reb to the ford by which we were to cross the Gumara, and we did not start till eleven o’clock. The baggage animals were able to have a feed of grass, and they and the boys alike were warmed by the sun before our journey began. All needed a little rest and comfort after the previous day’s work.

It is a plain country between the Reb and the Gumara, partly covered at that season by tall, dry grass, and partly by swamp-grass standing in ooze. In the wet months the whole tract is a morass.

Many Habashes assembled to see us start. They were tiresome, but quite friendly. I was much struck by the prevalence of eye disease among them; trachoma is very common, and most of the cases which came under my notice were beyond hope of cure. A crowd gathered round me to gaze at my camera, which was an unknown marvel in this land; for Western Abyssinia has seldom been visited by Europeans, and I heard of none who had been in the district since Stecker had passed through it more than twenty years before. Even cigarettes were a novelty. I put one between my lips when I had shut up my camera, and offered another to a young man who was standing close to me. He did not know what it was, and hesitated about taking it. To gratify my curiosity, I pressed it on him, and he held it at arm’s length, and looked at it with wonder and suspicion. But when he saw me light mine and smoke issuing from my mouth, he dropped his cigarette as if it were a live shell with a fuse smouldering in it and ran. Crawley gave a cigarette one day to a Habash, who ate it, paper and all, and said he liked it.

We reached the Gumara at half-past two, and pitched our camp beside the ford; it is an unpleasant place, in the line of a frequented highway. During the afternoon we passed the donkeys in review, and picked out the best for Dupuis’s expedition to Debra Tabor. We also made a selection of stores for the journey, which was expected to last five days in all.

CHAPTER VIII

The emperor, when he is powerful enough to do so, exercises a suzerainty over the King of Godjam, who served with the Abyssinian forces at the battle of Adowa. But the difficulties of a suzerainty unwillingly accepted, are as manifest in Eastern as they were in Southern Africa, and the country has often been in revolt. For instance, Consul Plowden wrote that in his day the ruler of Abyssinia, who was then the Ras of Begemeder, though a titular emperor was alive,[69] “had been engaged in the siege of a hill-fort in Godjam now for four years; and another chief in rebellion, after gaining two battles, had pillaged Gondar, and rendered all communication with Godjam circuitous or dangerous.”[70] Menelek’s safe-conduct letter is not valid in Tecla Haimanot’s dominions, and Dr. Stecker, who was provided with this passport, was refused admission to the country. The German explorer wished to cross the Blue Nile in the neighbourhood of Woreb, but was unable to carry out his plan because the escort officer who had been attached to his party declined to proceed into Tecla Haimanot’s jurisdiction. The doctor pointed out, with the logic of his race, that his permit was issued by the Negus Negesti, and that a mandate from the king of kings was binding on the ruler of Godjam. The escort officer disregarded logic after the manner of his kind, and Dr. Stecker failed to cross the river. He again tried to enter this territory from the north at Wendige, and was again turned back. A third attempt, which promised well, was frustrated by the double dealing of Litsch-Abai, Governor of Wendige, and though the traveller finally received a special permit from King John himself as Tecla Haimanot’s suzerain, he was unable to make use of it, except for a few hasty excursions by water from Korata, for he was summoned back to the Abyssinian court before he could accomplish the journey in Godjam which he had planned.[71]