The source of the Blue Nile

I took a photograph of my two companions while they were crossing the river Gumara, and then at once returned to the camp and made arrangements to remove it to a less inconvenient site.

I started on my mule with a native guide and an escort of two boys, and in an hour and a half reached a perfect camping-ground about halfway between our last halting-place and Korata. It was a quiet spot on a little plateau, where a spring rose from the rock and ran down a clean, hard channel. This was a welcome change from the muddy water which we had been obliged to use during the last two days. I returned to camp, and after lunch found—for the first time in my life—my reputation embarrassing. Patients poured in, and it occurred to me that if they had had any money and I had wished to establish myself in practice in Abyssinia, I should have done very well by the lakeside. The diseases which I had to treat were leprosy, ophthalmia, tænia, malarial fever, itch, and certain maladies of another order.[72]

Among my visitors was the parish priest. I supposed he had come to ask alms, and sent a message intended to put off the demand, explaining that I was only the doctor of the party, and that if there was anything which he required, he must return when “the Bey” (Dupuis) came back to camp and tell him about it. To my surprise he sent an answer that he wished to see me and not the Bey, and that he was not seeking alms. That being so, I was very pleased to receive him, and found that he wanted treatment for the itch.

When he had gone I took my rod and tried a fly in the muddy river; but the fish did not rise. So I gave up casting, which brought me nothing but the armache, and went out with my gun. On the swampy ground bordering the lake I shot three of the big geese that are found there in great abundance. They were for the camp larder, not for mine, as I thought the flesh rank and tough. The boys had often asked me to shoot one and give it to them.

On Sunday, January 18, I moved to our new camping-ground. It was a well-wooded spot, grassy and full of wild flowering plants of many kinds. This pleasant place is called Sara; it is six or seven miles distant from the lake. Game was plentiful. On the way I shot a sand-grouse, and, taking my gun in the afternoon, brought down two plovers of a kind which I had not seen before. One, probably the male bird, had excrescences of yellow skin on each side of the beak. There were snipe and quail in abundance, but I did not get within range of any.

During the day a man came to me who had a splinter of wood about two inches long buried in his leg near the shin. To remove it I had to cut down a couple of inches into the flesh. My patient endured the operation without wincing.

Approaching the camp on the way back, I heard tomtoms, women warbling after the manner of the country and the ringing of bells. I supposed for a moment that a stray shot of mine had injured some one and that the neighbourhood was in an uproar about it, and expected to find a demonstration in progress. But on making inquiry I learned that next day the Epiphany was celebrated, when there is a general feast and holiday throughout Abyssinia. The gathering of Habashes was in a hut near the river where they had come to be ready for the opening of the festival. This is the blessing of the water by the priest, and the people are allowed to bathe in it after the ceremony. I did not myself see that any availed themselves of the privilege.

The Habashes, who had assembled near the stream, began their singular devotions at daybreak. Mansfield Parkyns witnessed the whole procedure of one of these commemoration feasts, and his lively account of it is as exact now as when it was written:—

“As we have already stated while speaking of the fasts, the day before the Epiphany is passed by the priests and other devout men in abstinence until sunset. During the afternoon the Holy Sacrament is administered to the priests only, in their churches. After the conclusion of the ceremony they form in procession, and, accompanied by the defterers or scribes, and bearing with them all the church paraphernalia, go down to the neighbouring rivulet. Tents are pitched near its banks, ready to receive them, and there is a store of comestibles of every variety, with, of course, the usual large proportion of beer and honey-mead; the whole of which good things are from the voluntary contributions of the devout of the parish.

“When the much-wished-for sunset has arrived the feasting begins, and it is fearful to behold with what vigour the half-famished divines set to work. There is abundance for them; for the food being begged as a supply for the ark, or tabote, the superstitious people think that they are doing a very godly act in providing vast quantities, while in reality the only result is that the priests make beasts of themselves. The whole night is often passed in alternate prayer, singing, dancing, and drinking. The songs and dances are both of a religious kind: the latter probably taken from the religious dancing of the Israelites, frequently mentioned in the Bible, is merely a peculiar sort of shrugging of the body and stamping with the feet. The end of these devotional orgies is the administration of the Sacrament before sunrise; but it not unfrequently happens that long before that time many of the priests are not in a very fit state to partake of it, disgraceful scenes of drunkenness often disturbing these religious festivals. During the evening of timkat, or the Epiphany, that I passed at Adoua, several of the holy priests were found to have tumbled into the neighbouring brook, Assam, overcome, as charitably disposed persons may have said, by their religious fervour; though some sinful scoffers—myself included, I fear—suggested that liquor might have been the cause of their overthrow.

“After the Sacrament has been distributed among the priests, the chief priest, raising his hands over the stream, blesses it, and then the people bathe in it. Great men, however, and priests, are sprinkled, to obviate the necessity of their mixing, even in such a ceremony, with the vulgar herd. After this the women dance and sing, and the men engage in various sports.”[73]

The “dancing” of the women seemed to me not unlike that which is customary in Egypt and the Soudan. The chief feature of it was the protruding of the chest and chin alternately. The more forcibly this was done the more excellent was the style of the dancer. During the performance they gasp like whirling dervishes.

The Abyssinian women are not kept in seclusion. Indeed, the liberty which they have would be considered license from a European point of view. But perhaps they had been shy of appearing before a band of strangers. Anyhow, I had had no opportunity of forming an opinion about the girls of Ethiopia while we travelled among the villages. They came in numbers to the combined church-service and dance which was in progress by the river, and I then found that some were very decidedly good-looking. I took a couple of snap-shots of one leading beauty, and the reader can determine for himself—or herself—if she is fascinating. Tastes differ in these matters; but it is fair to her to say that the charm of an animated, varying expression and of lithe, graceful movements is poorly represented in a photograph.

I took my place among the crowd, not by preference—for the Habash resembles Gargonius more than Rufillus[74]—but that I might use my camera effectively. Some of the young girls had one-half of the head shaved, and this, I learned, was a sign that they had not yet “come out.” It corresponded to short frocks and hair down the back among us. Marriageable maidens had a tonsure—an odd contrast to our employment of the same sign, more especially as it further denotes that the damsel wishes to be mated. As far as I could discern the dances are arranged by the older women with the object of letting the girls be seen to advantage, and I noticed that the tonsures had all been neatly renewed for the occasion. The hair grows naturally in stiff ringlets, and these, springing up vigorously around the shaven circle, make it a very striking feature. The married women wear their hair plaited in rolls, which are saturated with grease.[75] The gathering broke up about eleven o’clock in the morning and the “congregation” left the bank of the stream. The “recessional” was the tinkling of a bell carried by a miserable-looking little boy, who was dressed in a red gown. He headed the party; then came the priest, bearing a cross, and behind him the laity. It was a quaint and interesting sight.

When the camp was quiet again I turned my attention to entomology and went out with a butterfly-net and a tin box to hold captures. Behind me was a boy carrying my gun—a sort of Friday to my Robinson Crusoe. We walked down the stream, and I saw many green swallow-tail butterflies, but they were much too quick to be caught by my pursuit. Presently I noticed that they were attracted by a certain red mossy growth in the water, so I waited near a patch of this. A butterfly hovered over it, and I made a dash for the specimen, and got it, but damaged it in the process. Then I laid it, in as life-like an attitude as I could give it, on the moss, and by this means secured four fine specimens which came to see what my decoy had found.

In the afternoon I wandered up stream and saw one snipe, which I shot as part of the menu for dinner. Then I left the course of the river, and walked towards some trees which seemed to form a detached clump. But as I drew nearer and fresh ground became visible, I found that they were part of a fine wood. When I was close to the edge of it, four quail rose at my feet. I tried to hit one, but was not sharp enough. At the noise of the discharge a large bush-buck sprang up in alarm and scampered off among the shrubs. The trees were chiefly of the cypress family, and, following a footpath, I discovered the explanation of this; for I came to an old ruinous church, and the whole grove had spread gradually from its enclosure. Beyond the church there was open ground, and a village lay at a little distance. The scene was sunny, pleasant, and almost idyllic. I retraced my steps and completed my bill of fare by adding a pigeon to the snipe.

The next day (January 20) I was medical officer to the country-side again until half-past ten. One man had a half-inch splinter of wood buried in his leg. He, like my former patient in a similar plight, was very plucky and let me cut down on it and take it out. When I had dressed the wound, he showed the zeal of his gratitude by throwing himself upon the ground and trying to kiss my boots. Several of my “cases” sent me offerings of eggs. About two dozen came in altogether, a couple from one, three from another, and so on. I was gratified, because these voluntary gifts, though they were small, were tokens of good-will. Ordinarily the escort-officer[76] whom Ras Gouksha, according to the custom of the country, had told off to attend us, and whom we called “the tout,” extorted provisions for us from the villagers—bread, milk, eggs, honey, grain, and the like, we being entitled to levy this tribute as the official guests of the Ras. The “tout” had gone with my companions to Debra Tabor, and it was pleasant to find that, in his absence, I received “benevolences” of another kind. This man professed to be our guide for the journey round the lake, but we found that he knew nothing at all about the roads and tracks. I may add that the eggs spontaneously given were all new-laid, while those exacted most emphatically were not.

After lunch I went out with my gun, and shot, besides a brace of pigeons, a pair of fly-catchers of a very pretty kind. Their plumage seemed to be worth preserving and I skinned them in the afternoon. Later I had a complimentary visit from the priest. We exchanged our respects in silence, by pantomime. He bowed and displayed his deference ceremoniously in dumb-show, and I bowed in return, and then the formalities ended. After this I talked to him by the aid of Johannes. This priest was a leper suffering from the form of the malady called “nerve leprosy.” He, poor fellow, had not known the fact until I told him. I almost regretted that I had unwittingly ended his ignorance. He showed the greatest astonishment and interest while he listened to an account of the methods employed in the treatment of the disease in Europe.

I was up early on the morning of January 21, and set to work to put a coat of paint on the boat, but patients soon found me out and changed my occupation. One case interested me much. It was that of an old lady, a dear old lady, who told me that she was a hundred years old! Why she reversed feminine tradition by saying that, I cannot tell; upon closer observation I judged her age to be about fifty-five, allowing for the earlier senescence of Oriental people. She had heard of me in Tigre, eighty-five miles distant, and had come all the way to Sara that I might examine her broken wrist. The fracture was a fortnight old, and I found that the bone had been set very sensibly, and bound up with a ligature made of strips of cane strung together upon a piece of leather. This made an excellent splint. The injury was in a favourable position, and the soi-disant centenarian had full use of her fingers. I set up the fracture just as it had been bound before, only with cotton-wool, a couple of bits of cardboard and a neat new bandage. I thought that, as the patient had made such a journey to consult me, she deserved that much treatment, and she would have been sorely disappointed if she had returned to Tigre with no outward and visible sign of the European doctor’s attention to show to her friends. As it was, she was pleased and grateful, and took the homeward road forthwith in all contentment.

About four o’clock in the afternoon my companions returned from Debra Tabor. They had been received three times “in audience” by the Ras, but I did not gather that any very deep impression had been made upon them. They were, in fact, relieved to think that no more visits of ceremony were in prospect. To the grief of all, one of our soldiers had died on the journey. He was seized with fever the day after he started, rapidly became worse, had to be left in a hut some six miles out of Debra Tabor, and succumbed during the evening of the second day of his illness. From a description of the symptoms, I judged that his death was caused by severe intestinal irritation, probably due to ptomaine poisoning. This, in all probability, resulted from eating putrescent meat, a practice which we could not suppress among our men, though it was particularly likely to be fatal in such a climate as that of Abyssinia.

My companions brought with them some guinea-fowl and a sheep, and we bought an ox in camp, which was to be killed the next day at Korata. The cost of it was seven dollars, or about twelve shillings and six pence, the vendor reserving the hide for his own purposes as a condition of the bargain. That night a hyena was prowling round my tent. I was not sure what manner of beast it was until Crawley enlightened me next day. It certainly would not be safe for a traveller to sleep in the open in places haunted by these creatures.

On the morning of January 22, after some delay in starting, we made a steady jog-trot journey, through dried grass in a well-timbered country, down the gentle slope that trends away from the plateau. The track which we followed was rocky for the most part, and lay in cultivable land. We saw enclosed fields here and there and numerous villages—one in every four miles or so. There was no mishap, except when the donkeys stuck in the mud at the bottom of the watercourses, or lay down in it. And then it was dirty work to get them on, or up. Just before one o’clock we arrived in Korata Bay and pitched our camp there.

After lunch my companions started on muleback with their guns. They were to be guided by a native boy about eighteen years old, whom our interpreter Johannes had engaged in the town, and who said that he knew where game was to be found. Crawley took the young fellow’s staff in one hand, and in the other held out a Maria-Theresa dollar, and made him understand by signs that if the sport was good he would get the money, but if no game was seen he would have a cudgelling. The humour of this tickled his fancy very much, and he was convulsed with laughter over it. It was the first time I had seen an Abyssinian enjoy a hearty laugh.

Korata stands upon a promontory. When I had held a “doctor’s parade,” I took my gun and walked round the point of this little headland. There appeared to be no birds to shoot, and I had made up my mind to turn back empty-handed, when I saw a couple of fat little ducks on a rock in the lake. I shot them when they rose, and, knowing they were dead, sat down to wait till the waves brought them within reach. The noise of the firing roused the curiosity of two Abyssinians, who came up to me and bowed. Then one very obligingly walked into the water and fetched out the birds. After this both accompanied me, the first carrying the ducks, the other bearing my gun. I understood that they meant to show me the way over the brow of the hill and through Korata to our camp.

We left the sandy beach, and walked up a rocky track full of loose stones into the town. It is merely a collection of tokhuls scattered in groups of six or seven among untended coffee plantations. These are not separated by hedges or fences, and perhaps I might best convey an idea of their appearance to an English reader by comparing them to a series of neglected orchards without traceable boundaries. Indeed, I should have supposed that the coffee bushes, which attain a most remarkable size, grew wild here, if it were not for a statement in Consul Plowden’s report. He wrote: “The more temperate provinces would probably be favourable to the growth of pepper, spices, and coffee, which last has already been planted at Korata.”[77] Evidently the soil is admirably suited for the raising of this produce to advantage; the coffee is of an excellent quality, and though the natives bestow no trouble and spend no money on the industry, there is even now a steady export trade in the berries from this district. The principal market for it is in the Soudan, where the demand is likely to be larger as the development of Upper Egypt proceeds.

We traversed the main thoroughfare on the way back to camp. It is so narrow that two persons cannot pass abreast. On either side is a bank overgrown with nettles and other weeds. I saw very few people; the life of the place seemed to be stagnant, and here, as elsewhere in Abyssinia, there was very little money in circulation. Judging roughly, I should estimate that Korata contains a population of some two thousand, and that three-quarters of these are Soudanese slaves. It is the custom among the Habashes that each man has a boy-slave, and each married woman a girl-slave. The attitude of mind of the Christian Abyssinians towards these wretched people is well shown by the following slight incident—as I was walking through Korata with the two Habashes who had volunteered to guide me, we passed a couple of slave-boys. I said, “Soudanis,” and immediately my companions spat upon the ground to signify their contempt.

When we reached camp I gave my new acquaintances a drink of chartreuse in token of my gratitude, and then they squatted in front of my tent, and seemed greatly interested in watching me while I dressed a wound on the leg of one of the donkey-boys. They were doing no harm, but “the tout” bustled up in his most consequential mood to hurry them off, and I think he hit one of them. Anyhow, there was some disturbance, and the other Habashes made common cause. The corporal came to report to me that the escort officer was drunk, and had struck a man. Thereupon I summoned “the tout” and rated him, and ordered him to go and apologize to those visitors of mine, who had done me a service. Matters straightened themselves out, for the two men came to me half an hour later to say good-bye, and they appeared to be perfectly happy and contented. They “bowed and scraped” in the usual Abyssinian manner before they took their departure. “The tout” made some representation to Dupuis when he returned to camp; so I explained that the fellow was tipsy and troublesome, and he was sent about his business. I gathered that he asked leave to go, and hoped that he meant to quit us altogether, but found afterwards that he had only sought permission to spend the night in the town—over more tedj, of course. Dupuis paid no heed to what he was saying, so off he went, but came back in an unruffled mood, and full of complacency, on the following morning. I think Johannes gave us the explanation of his conduct—that he had orders from the Ras to make sure that we three Europeans should have as little intercourse as possible with the Habashes.

That night the noise in our camp disturbed a hippo, whose resting-place in the reeds was close by. I heard him snorting loudly and angrily. He had a prescriptive right to quiet sleep in that place, and I felt that we were intruders upon the ancient order. The old-world life seemed to have a raison d’être superior to that of a modern expedition, and though the hippo kept me awake, I sympathized with his indignation.

He and his kind were prominent figures in the scene next morning (January 23). We counted five that were in sight together, and four were less than two hundred yards from the shore.

After breakfast we visited the celebrated church of Korata. I am not sure that it is the only one in the place, but its reputation makes it the church of Korata. We were told that a certain Frenchman had travelled from France expressly to see it; if he did, it will be owned that he was an exceptional Gaul, for the length and discomfort of his journey were out of all proportion to the satisfaction to be obtained at the end of it. The building—as my photograph of the exterior shows—is circular, with thatched walls, and in point of structure differs only in size from the village churches. It stands in a compound, surrounded by a rough stone wall. The entrances are two lich-gates, surmounted by thatched porticoes.

The church owes its especial sanctity to the patronage of a female saint. Her chief exploit has been described by Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, and as the passage in which he recounts it is full of the “atmosphere” of the country, I quote it in full:—“In accordance with orders from the King (Theodore) the two principal merchants of the place (Korata) Aito Kasa and Aito Wandé—the latter, as mentioned above, the person on whom Theodore had bestowed Lij Tasamma’s sister, one of his favourite concubines—came out in a wherry to meet us about a mile from the shore, clad in gorgeous habiliments. After an interchange of civilities, we followed them to a small plateau which rises above the lake about two miles to the south of the town, where upwards of a hundred ecclesiastics from the neighbourhood were assembled to welcome us, his Majesty having directed the clergy to receive me with royal honours, and to take care that their persons and garments were scrupulously clean. They were in full canonicals, and greeted us with prayers and psalmody, conducting us with the same accompaniments to a tent which had been erected for the occasion, a few yards from our landing-place. The glitter of the pageant was heightened by a grand display of crosses, croziers, mitres, church umbrellas, David’s harps and censers, which were born aloft in the procession. After spending a short time witnessing their religious dances and listening to their discordant chants, the benediction was pronounced, and the Lord’s Prayer wound up the service, when we accompanied the merchants to their dwellings on mules provided for our use. Korata rejoices in a patron saint of great celebrity—a native Joan of Arc, in fact—called Waldt-Maryam. She was a resident nun when a formidable Galla Chief, who had overrun a great part of the country, appeared before Korata. She encouraged the townsmen to defend the place, and their valour combined with her powerful intercessions availed to withstand the repeated assaults of the infidel hosts, who were eventually obliged to retreat with great loss. Since that time the town has been placed under her special patronage, and to show their veneration for the locality Abyssinians generally dismount on approaching it, and walk on foot through the streets.”[78]

It is curious to reflect that the name of this remote little township in Western Abyssinia was once very familiar to British ears, and it would scarcely be straining an accepted phrase to say that the eyes of the nation were turned towards this place; for while the British mission was here and King Theodore was encamped on the peninsula of Zegi, on the opposite shore of the lake, the negotiations about “the captives” reached and passed the crucial stage in the early months of 1866. The end of the story, as the whole world knows, was the suicide of the King at Magdala. It is difficult even now, in spite of all that has been written on the subject, to judge how far he was mad and how far sane, how far a capricious, clever, cruel savage, and how far a man of good parts and fine character marred by circumstances.

In the church of Korata we first saw Abyssinian frescoes. It struck me that they had an unmistakable resemblance to the Persian style, and, in some instances, in spite of their crudity, the depiction of the faces is good. The “exposure” photographs which I obtained show the types of the subjects represented. Saint George, who is the patron of Abyssinia as he is of England, is always a prominent figure. The holy people who, by established usage, are admitted to the “goodly fellowship” on the walls include certain worthies of the Apocrypha. The picture which struck me most showed the Virgin and Child crossing the Red Sea—probably during the flight to Egypt—in an Abyssinian rush-boat and feeding hippopotami with bread as they went. They are seated in the stern and are rowed by a Habash.

The church of Korata has a large staff of priests and defterers or scribes.[79] To benefit fully by the sanctity of the place, they sleep in the porches, on the beds which are called angareebs in the Soudan. A theological school is attached to the holy building, and we saw five or six of the students. One of them was suffering from the disease which Stecker found to be so distressingly prevalent in Abyssinia. The Chief Priest received us very graciously. He was much interested when we named the saints depicted in the frescoes, and appeared suddenly to realize that we were Christians. He seemed to have the impression that an English official’s training comprised instruction in all handicrafts; for he put into my friend Dupuis’s hands the separate parts, including the mainspring and all the wheels, of an old silver timepiece, and signified through the interpreter to my astonished companion that he was desired to put them together again and return the watch in working order. Dupuis explained that he was not a “practical jeweller and repairer.” The agreeable old dignitary, whose name was John, received an offering of ten dollars with great gratitude.

Later in the day he sent me as a patient one of his students, who was suffering from ophthalmia. This man brought a citron for each of us three Europeans; why, I cannot guess, for this pulpy kind of lemon is not a useful gift, nor a delight for a gourmet. The fruit may have had some symbolical meaning, but, if so, we remained in ignorance of it. I saw many other patients. Nearly all suffered from trivial ailments. A woman and her husband, who both appeared to be in sound health, kept trying to tell me some long tale or other, hovered about near me, and drew my attention at every turn. Finally they induced a soldier to interpret for them, and besought me to attend to the woman’s case. When I examined her, I found that she had come to consult me about the traces of the scar of an abscess which had healed, as far as I could judge, some twenty years before! This blemish on her “beauty” was about the size of a shilling.

In the afternoon we went shooting. The boy—Zody by name—who had been so tickled by my friend’s dumb-show on the previous day, and had earned his dollar by taking my comrades where guinea-fowl were plentiful, again attached himself to our party. He guided us well, and we made a good bag of quail, guinea-fowl, and partridges.

When we returned we found that we had received a present from the lady of the Ras in whose dominions we were. It consisted of loaves of “teff” bread, ten fowls, sixty eggs and a jar of honey. All this we distributed among the men. The Ras’s wife was owner of the soil hereabouts; it had been given to her as dowry, and in such a case a woman has practically absolute proprietorship, and the taxes are collected for her benefit. But her authority does not extend to the selection of officials; that power remains in the hands of the Ras. As the Mussulmans had killed during the day the ox which we had bought for twelve shillings and sixpence, the men had plenty of good fare before them, and our own larder was not badly stocked. Vultures of enormous size gathered round the spot where the animal was slaughtered, and fought over the offal that was left on the ground. Numbers of carrion crows had flocked to the feast, and had to be spectators for the most part. But they slipped in among the big combatants now and then, and filched away a morsel adroitly.

I have given rather fully my impressions of Korata, which is a typical township of Western Abyssinia. It may interest the reader if I supplement it by the brief note written by Stecker, who sojourned in the place more than a fortnight. He wrote—

“On April 1” (1881) “we reached Korata, the most important, most charmingly situated and largest town on Lake Tsana. Korata has often been visited by Europeans before, most recently by Piaggia, who stayed here about a year and a half and occupied himself with ornithology. Korata is famous for the first-rate excellence of its coffee, which, as I was able to satisfy myself, flourishes here exceptionally. The place is almost the most important market on the Tsana, but at the moment does not contain more than eight hundred to one thousand inhabitants against three thousand in Theodore’s time, as very many have either migrated from the town or died of fever. At an earlier time the Mohammedans were numerous here, but most of them emigrated to Gallabat after the order issued to them by King John that they should one and all embrace Christianity. Only a few families abandoned Islamism and adopted the Coptic faith. There are also three Jewish families living here. Korata is divided into ten districts whose names are Dengelteffa, Tukuwodeb, Margeza, Kulomalfia, Siet biet Negus, Guaguata, Guwi, Adisamba, Vof tschogevia, Gusudur, and Slam biet (or Slam modeb), which last is at present entirely deserted. Korata is the abode of an exceptionally numerous priesthood.” Dr. Stecker formed friendships among the laity in the place, but “by no means lived in the best harmony with the pretentious clergy.”[80]

CHAPTER IX

“If an animal be skinned, the red surface will attract the vultures in an instant; this proves that their sight, and not their scent, has been attracted by an object that suggests blood. I have frequently watched them when I have shot an animal, and my people have commenced the process of skinning. At first, not a bird has been in sight, as I have lain on my back and gazed into the spotless blue sky; but hardly has the skin been half withdrawn, than specks have appeared in the heavens, rapidly increasing. ‘Caw, caw,’ has been heard several times from the neighbouring bushes; the buzzards have swept down close to my people, and have snatched a morsel of clotted blood from the ground. The specks have increased to winged creatures, at the great height resembling flies, when presently a rushing sound behind me, like a whirlwind, has been followed by the pounce of a red-faced vulture, that has fallen from the heavens in haste with closed wings to the bloody feast, followed quickly by many of his brethren. The sky has become alive with black specks in the far distant blue, with wings hurrying from all quarters. At length a coronet of steady soaring vultures forms a wide circle far above, as they hesitate to descend, but continue to revolve around the object of attraction. The great bare-necked vulture suddenly appears. The animal has been skinned, and the required flesh secured by the men; we withdraw a hundred paces from the scene. A general rush and descent takes place; hundreds of hungry beaks are tearing at the offal. The great bare-necked vulture claims respect among the crowd; but another form has appeared in the blue sky, and rapidly descends. A pair of long, ungainly legs, hanging down beneath the enormous wings, now touch the ground, and Abou Seen (father of the teeth or beak, the Arab name for the Marabou) has arrived, and he stalks proudly towards the crowds, pecking his way with his long bill through the struggling vultures, and swallowing the lion’s share of the repast. Abou Seen, last but not least, had arrived from the highest region, while others had the advantage of the start. This bird is very numerous through the Nile tributaries of Abyssinia, and may generally be seen perched upon the rocks of the waterside, watching for small fish, or any reptile that may chance to come within his reach. The well-known feathers are situated in a plume beneath the tail.”[81]

On the night of January 23, the thermometer sank to 29° F. just before sunrise, so no one turned out with alacrity, and we were later than usual in starting.

I was surprised to find that the boy Zody sought to attach himself to the expedition. While we were preparing to leave Korata he came to us and said, “You are good people and I want to go with you.” We raised no objection, and he joined our party. A little while afterwards he declared his intention of accompanying us to the Soudan. Thereupon he returned to Korata and “realized his capital” by selling the cow which he possessed. Then he overtook the expedition, and served throughout the journey to Gallabat, receiving the same pay as the other boys. He was smart, willing, and useful, soon learned from his comrades what our requirements were, and acted both as indoor and outdoor servant. He had no Arabic, and all intercourse between us was by signs, which he was extremely quick to understand. The motive that prompted him to render us service was undoubtedly his devoted loyalty to Crawley.

Most travellers have given the Habashes a thoroughly bad character. It is said that they are vain, greedy, treacherous, and cowardly. Though we Europeans had but few unpleasant experiences of them while we were in the country, I cannot say that I saw anything which would give me authority to dispute the conclusions of writers who knew them better from longer observation, and it is the more pleasant on this account to record an instance of an Abyssinian’s fidelity and cheerful good-will.

We marched through the familiar dry grass for about half an hour after we left Korata, and then reached the river Gelda at a place where, according to the “tout,” it was fordable. This is a muddy, rapid stream, flowing between earthy banks. Its bed here was soft and yielding, and there was not the least possibility of getting the beasts and baggage across. In fact, our guide had misled us. It was a most annoying waste of time. While we were shooting on the previous day we had seen a fording-place higher up the stream, and now struck towards it in spite of the “tout’s” assertion that the water there would be up to the men’s necks.

When we reached the spot, we found a shallow, fairly fast current flowing over a rocky bed. The guide was entirely unabashed by the fact that he had misdirected us and lied to us. After this we ceased to consult natives and planned our course according to Stecker’s map, and in this way managed the matter well enough. There are some small inaccuracies in the doctor’s work, but it is entirely sufficient for all practical purposes and a worthy record of the German traveller’s high attainments and untiring patience.

The ledges of rock which form the bed of the river at the upper ford are smooth and round, and in consequence very slippery. We had a busy time getting the donkeys over. Men had to be posted in the water to steady them as they crossed, but the real trouble was at the further bank. It was high and steep, and the way up was by a narrow cutting with a hard surface. The first wet donkey that passed along this made it as insecure for foothold as a slide, and the next donkey struggled and scrambled and fell back into the water. We had to tell off boys to shovel relays of earth on to the slope and then others grabbed the donkey’s load, its ear, its tail, or anything they could get a grip of, and shoved it up bodily. Another detachment was on duty on the top of the bank to prevent the animals from straying.

Beyond the river lies a steep hill about five hundred feet high. The ascent is by a track of the usual kind, about a foot and a half wide. The way down from the summit is very precipitous and was full of loose stones. These the donkeys often dislodged, and many rolled along and struck the animals that were moving in front, but we had no trouble with them.

We passed a village which is called Selselima, consisting of the usual tokhuls grouped about a round thatched church. Here I saw an example of Abyssinian methods of administration. A lad of about eighteen was standing in a field, watching us pass. Ras Gouksha’s man, the “tout,” went up to him, grabbed him by his gown, and began to question him. Soon another Abyssinian approached him, grasped the boy’s shama in like manner, and also interrogated him. I inquired what they were asking, and was told they were seeking directions to guide them by the nearest way to the source of the Blue Nile, which was then some four miles distant. Presently without apparent reason, both our fellows began to belabour the lad with their staves. I rode up and ordered them sharply to desist, and explain to me what they were about. Thereupon they made off, and one of our escort told me they had been beating the boy so as to force him to act as their guide—without pay, of course—and accompany them to the river, though he had already given them full directions for the road.

The end of the descent brought us to the lake shore again, and we camped on the further bank of a little stream of clear water running in a rocky bed. It is called the Tschembolo. This is near to the village of Woreb, and is only two miles from the point where the Blue Nile flows from Lake Tsana. We could not proceed further that day, for the march had been a long one, and it was late already. So we halted upon this spot by the brook, as it was a very suitable camping-ground with a clean drinking supply, and determined to move on the morrow to a more central position, if we could find one, for the survey work which Crawley and Dupuis were to undertake.

Patients had followed me from Korata. They were people who had reached our camp there in the morning, after I had packed up the medicine-chest and mounted my mule. Some half a dozen had come over to Woreb after us, and were now waiting to see me. But I was dead tired that evening and refused to attend to them. There were no serious cases, and I told those who wished to have advice to return at nine o’clock the next morning. If I had made myself more accessible than I was, I should have been mobbed not only by the sick in Abyssinia, but by a host of people who fancied they had ailments.