Immediately after the arrival of our caravan I made preparations for quitting Ujiji. The 26th May, 1858, was the day appointed for our departure, which was fated to resemble a flight more than the march of a peaceful Expedition. Said bin Salim, who had received as “Urangozi” or retaining-fee from his two African “brothers,” Lurinda and Kannena, a boy-slave and a youth, thought only of conveying them safely out of the country. The Baloch, especially the Jemadar, who had invested every cubit of cloth and every ounce of powder in serviles, were also trembling at the prospect of desertion. As usual, when these barbarians see preparations for departure, the Wajiji became more extortionate and troublesome than before. A general drinking-bout had followed the return of the crews from Uvira: Kannena had not been sober for a fortnight. At last his succession of violent and maudlin fits ended fortunately for us in a high fever, which somewhat tamed his vice. Shortly after our disappearance, his territory was attacked by the predal Watuta: and had not the Arabs assisted in its defence, it would doubtless have been converted into a grisly solitude, like the once fertile and populous Uhha. Kannena, of course, fled into the mountains from the attack of the gallant rascals: he had courage enough to bully, but not to fight. I heard of him no more: he showed no pity to the homeless stranger,—may the world show none to him!

I shall long remember the morning of the 26th May, which afforded me the last sunrise-spectacle of the Tanganyika Lake. The charm of the scenery was perhaps enhanced by the reflection that my eyes might never look upon it again. Masses of brown-purple clouds covered the quarter of the heavens where the sun was about to rise. Presently the mists, ruffled like ocean billows, and luminously fringed with Tyrian purple, were cut by filmy rays, whilst, from behind their core, the internal living fire shot forth its broad beams, like the spokes of a huge aërial wheel, rolling a flood of gold over the light blue waters of the lake. At last Dan Sol, who at first contented himself with glimmering through the cloud-mass, disclosed himself in his glory, and dispersed with a glance the obstacles of the vapourous earth: breaking into long strata and little pearly flakes, they soared high in the empyrean, whilst the all-powerful luminary assumed undisputed possession of earth, and a soft breeze, the breath of the morn, as it is called in the East, awoke the waters into life.

But I am not long to enjoy this mighty picture. A jarring din sings in my ears, contrasting strangely with the beautiful world before my eyes. A crowd of newly-engaged Pagazi are standing before me in the ecstasy of impatience: some poised like cranes upon the right foot, with the left sole placed against the knee, others with their arms thrown in a brotherly fashion round neighbours’ necks, whilst others squatted in the usual Asiatic and African position, with their posteriora resting upon their calves and heels, their elbows on their thighs, and their chins propped upon their hands, gazed at me with that long longing look which in these lands evidences a something sorely wanted. Presently, from Said bin Majid’s home-bound caravan, with which I had consented to travel, shots and a popping of muskets rang through the air: the restless crowd that still watched me appeared at the sound of this signal to lose their wits. In a moment the space before the Tembe was cleared. After a few moments, Said bin Salim ran up violently excited, declaring that his orders were of no avail, that some parties were starting with, and others without, their loads, and that no man would take up the burden assigned to him on the yesterday. I directed him to compose himself, and since he could not remain, to precede me with the headstrong gang as far as the Ruche River—the first stage—whence he would send back, as soon as possible, a few men bribed to carry my hammock and to remove the loose loads scattered upon the ground. These, as usual on such occasions, were our own. He departed greatly delighting in the opportunity of escaping further trouble, and of driving off his six wild slaves in safety: true to his inconsequential Arabo-African blood, however, neglecting the appointed station in the eagerness of hurry, he marched on with Said bin Majid’s men to at least double the distance, thus placing himself out of Kannena’s reach, and throwing all my arrangements into direst confusion.

Meanwhile, having breakfasted, we sat till the afternoon in the now empty and deserted Tembe, expecting the return of the slaves. As none appeared, I was induced by the utter misery depicted in the countenances of the Baloch, and trusting that the return-porters would meet us on the way, to give orders for a march about 4 P.M., to mount my manchil, and to set out carried by only two men. Scarcely had I left the Tembe when a small party, headed by Said bin Salim’s four children, passed by me at speed. Though summoned to halt, they sped onwards, apparently intending to fetch the loads from the house, and thus to relieve those left behind as a guard; it proved afterwards that they were bound for the bazar to buy plantains for their patroon. Meanwhile, hurrying on with one Baloch, the astute Gul Mohammed, Valentine, and three sons of Ramji, as the shades of evening closed around us, we reached, without guide or direction from the surly villagers, the ferry of the Ruche River. Disappointed at not finding the camp at the place proposed, we were punted across the Styx-like stream; and for what reason no man could say, the party took the swampy road along the Bay of Ukaranga. The mosquitos stung like wasps; the loud spoutings and the hollow bursts of bellow, snort, and grunt of the hippopotami—in these lands they are brave as the bulls of the Spanish sierras—and the roar of the old male crocodile startled the party, whilst the porters had difficulty in preserving their balance as they waded through water waist-deep, and crept across plains of mud, mire, and sea-ooze.

As the darkness rendered the march risky, I gave the word, when arrived at a bunch of miserable huts, for a bivouac; the party, had I permitted it, would have wandered through the outer glooms without fixed purpose till permanently bogged. We spread our bedding upon the clear space between the cane-cones acting hovels, and we snatched, under a resplendent moon, and a dew that soaked through the blankets, a few hours of sleep, expecting to be aroused by a guide and porters before the end of night. Gaetano had preceded us with the provisions and the batterie de cuisine; we were destitute even of tobacco, and we looked forward expectantly to the march. But the dawn broke, and morning flashed over the canopy above, and the sun poured his hot rays through the cool, clear air, still we found ourselves alone. The sons of Ramji, and the others composing our party, had gradually disappeared, leaving with us only Gul Mohammed. Taking heart of grace, we then cleared out a hut, divided the bedding, lay down in the patience of expectation, and dined on goat. Our neighbour afforded us some food for the mind. Apparently an Androgyne, she had the voice, the look, and the thorax of a man, whilst the dress and the manner argued her to be a woman; it was the only approach to the dubious sex seen by me in East Africa.

About 2 P.M. appeared Ramazan and Salman, children of Said bin Said, with four porters, an insufficient supply for the long and trying march which they described. They insisted upon our enduring the heat and labour of the day so energetically, that they were turned with ignominy out of the village, and were told to send their master to escort us in the evening or on the morning of the next day. Accordingly at 9 A.M. of the 28th May appeared Said bin Salim and the Jemadar, escorted by a full gang of bearers. The former, bursting with irritation, began that loud speaking which in the East is equivalent to impertinence; he was easily silenced by a more explosive and an angrier tone of voice. Having breakfasted, we set out leisurely, and after rejoining Said bin Majid’s party we advanced until evening fell upon us at the end of the first day’s stage.

I have related the tale of our departure from the Tanganyika somewhat circumstantially: it was truly characteristic of Arab travelling in Eastern Africa. Said bin Salim had scant cause for hurry: slaves rarely desert on the day of departure; knowing themselves to be watched they wait their opportunity, and find it perhaps—as our caravan discovered to its loss—a week or two afterwards. The Arab was determined to gain a few miles by passing the appointed station; he did so, and he lost two days. In his haste and dread of delay, he had neglected to lay in salt, ghee, or any other stores for the road but grain: consequently he was detained at half a dozen places to procure them. Finally, his froward children, who had done their utmost to waste time in the bazar, were not reproved, much less punished. Truly the half-caste Arab of Zanzibar is almost as futile as the slavish moiety of his ancestry.

There was little novelty in our return-march to Unyamyembe. We took the northerly route, crossing and skirting the lower spurs of the mountains which form the region of Uhha. During the first few stages, being still within the influence of that bag of Æolus, the Tanganyika trough, we endured tornados of wind and heavy rain, thunder and lightning. After the 5th March the threatening clouds drew off, the dank heavy dew diminished, and the weather became clear and hot, with a raw cold eastern wind pouring through the tepid temperature, and causing general sickness. On the 29th May we pitched at Uyonwa, a little settlement of Wabuha, who have already raised crops of sweet potatoes; if they have the sense to avoid keeping cattle, the only attraction to the robber Watuta, they may once more convert the sad waste of Uhha, a wilderness where men are now wolves to one another, into a land smiling with grains and fruits. Beyond Uyonwa we hurried over “neat-tongue” hills, separated by green swamps and black rivulets, with high woody banks, over jungle paths thick with spear and tiger grass, brambly bush and tall growths of wild arrowroot, and over a country for the most part rough and rugged, with here and there an acacia-barren, a bamboo-clump, or a lone Palmyra. Approaching the Rusugi River, which we forded on the 1st June at the upper or Parugerero passage, the regular succession of ridge and swamp gave way to a dry, stony, and thorny slope, rolling with an eastward decline. We delayed for an hour at the Salt-pass, to lay in a supply of the necessary, and the temptation to desert became irresistible. Muhabanya, the “slavey” of the establishment, ran away, carrying off his property and my hatchet. The Jemadar was rendered almost daft by the disappearance of half of his six slaves. A Mnyamwezi porter placed his burden—it was a case of Cognac and vinegar, deeply regretted!—upon the ground, and levanted. Two other porters lost their way, and disappeared for some days; their comrades, standing in awe of the Wavinza, would not venture in search of them. The Kirangozi or Mnyamwezi guide, who had accompanied the Expedition from the coast, remained behind, because his newly-purchased slave-girl had become foot-sore, and unable to advance; finding the case hopeless, he cut off her head, lest of his evil good might come to another. The party gave the usual amount of trouble. The bull-headed Mabruki had invested his capital in a small servile, an infant phenomenon, who, apparently under six years, trotted manfully alongside the porters, bearing his burden of hide-bed and water-gourd upon his tiny shoulder. For some days he was to his surly master as her first doll to a young girl: when tired he was mounted upon the back, and after crossing every swamp his feet were carefully wiped. When the novelty, however, wore off, the little unfortunate was so savagely beaten that I insisted upon his being committed to the far less hard-hearted Bombay. The Hanmals who carried my manchil were the most annoying of their kind. Wanyamwezi veterans of the way (their chief man wore a kizbao or waistcoat, and carried an old Tower musket), originally five in number, and paid in advance as far as Unyanyembe; they deserted slowly and surely, till it was necessary to raise a fresh gang. For a short time they worked well, then they fell off. In the mornings when their names were called they hid themselves in the huts, or they squatted pertinaciously near the camp fires, or they rushed ahead of the party. On the road they hurried forwards, recklessly dashing the manchil, without pity or remorse, against stock and stone. A man allowed to lag behind never appeared again on that march, and more than once they attempted to place the hammock on the ground and to strike for increase of wages, till brought to a sense of their duty by a sword-point applied to their ribs. They would halt for an hour to boil their sweet potatoes, but if I required the delay of five minutes, or the advance of five yards, they became half mad with fidgetiness; they were as loud-voiced, noisy and insolent, as turbulent and irritable, as grumbling, importunate, and greedy specimens of the genus homo, species Africanus, as I have ever seen, even amongst the “sons of water” in the canoes of Ujiji. In these lands, however, the traveller who cannot utilise the raw material that comes to hand will make but little progress.

On the 2nd June we fell into our former route at Jambeho, in the alluvial valley of the Malagarazi River. The party was pitched in two places by the mismanagement of Said bin Salim; already the porters began to raise loud cries of Posho! (provaunt!) and their dread of the Wavinza increased as they approached the Malagarazi Ferry. The land in the higher levels was already drying up, the vegetation had changed from green to yellow, and the strips of grassy and tree-clad rock, buttressing the left bank of the river, afforded those magnificent spectacles of conflagration which have ever been favourite themes with the Indian muse:—

Wilson’s Uttara Rama Cheritra, act 2.

A sheet of flame, beginning with the size of a spark, overspread the hill-side, advancing on the wings of the wind, with the roaring rushing sound of many hosts where the grass lay thick, shooting huge forky tongues high into the dark air, where tall trees, the patriarchs of the forest, yielded their lives to the blast, smouldering and darkening, as if about to be quenched where the rock afforded scanty fuel, then flickering, blazing up and soaring again till topping the brow of the hill, the sheet became a thin line of fire, and gradually vanished from the view, leaving its reflection upon the canopy of lurid smoke studded with sparks and bits of live braise, which marked its descent on the other side of the buttress. Resuming our march along the cold and foggy vale of the Malagarazi, and crossing on the third day the stony slabby hills that bound the fluviatile plain northward, we reached, on the 4th June, the dreaded ferry-place of the river.

The great Malagarazi still swollen, though the rains had ceased, by the surplus moisture of the sopped earth, had spread its wide heart of shallow waters, variegated with narrow veins—a deeper artery in the centre showing the main stream—far over the plain. Thus offering additional obstacles to crossing, it was turned to good account by the Mutware, the Lord of the Ferry. On arrival at the Kraal overlooking the river I summoned this Charon, who demanded as his preliminary obolus one pot of oil, seven cloths, and 300 khete of blue porcelains. Said bin Majid, our companion, paid about one-fifth the sum. But the Kraal was uncomfortable, we were stung out by armies of ants; a slight earthquake, at 11.15 A.M., on the 4th June, appeared a bad omen to Said bin Salim: briefly, I was compelled to countenance the extortion. On the next morning we set out, having been cannily preceded by Said bin Majid. Every difficulty was thrown in the way of our boxes and baggage. Often, when I refused the exorbitant sum of four and even five khete per load, the fellows quietly poled off, squatted in their canoes, and required to be summoned back by Said bin Salim with the abjectest concessions. They would not take on board a Goanese or a Baloch without extra pay, and they landed, under some pretext, Said bin Salim and the Jemadar upon a dry knoll in the waste of waters, and demanded and received a cloth before they would rescue them. In these and kindred manœuvres nearly seven hours were expended; no accidents, however, occurred, and at 4 P.M. we saw ourselves, with hearts relieved of some load, once more at Ugogo, on the left bank of the river. I found my companion, who had preceded me, in treaty for the purchase of a little pig; fortunately the beads would not persuade the porters to part with it, consequently my pots escaped pollution.

An eventless march of twelve days led from the Malagarazi Ferry to Unyanyembe. Avoiding the détour to Msene we followed this time the more direct southern route. I had expected again to find the treacle-like surface over which we had before crept, and perhaps even in a worse state; but the inundations compelled the porters to skirt the little hills bounding the swamps. Provisions—rice, holcus and panicum, manioc, cucumbers and sweet potatoes, pulse, ground-nuts, and tobacco—became plentiful as we progressed; the arrowroot and the bhang plant flourished wild, and plantains and palmyras were scattered over the land. On the 8th June, emerging from inhospitable Uvinza into neutral ground, we were pronounced to be out of danger, and on the next day, when in the meridian of Usagozi, we were admitted for the first time to the comfort of a village. Three days afterwards we separated from Said bin Majid. Having a valuable store of tusks, he had but half loaded his porters; he also half fed them: the consequence was that they marched like mad men, and ours followed like a flock of sheep. He would not incur the danger and expense of visiting a settlement, and he pitched in the bush, where provisions were the least obtainable. When I told him that we must part company, he deprecated the measure with his stock statement, viz. that at the distance of an hour’s march there was a fine safe village full of provisions, and well fitted for a halt. The hour’s march proved a long stage of nearly sixteen miles, over a remarkably toilsome country, a foul jungle with tsetse-haunted thorn-bushes, swamps, and inundated lands, ending at a wretched cluster of huts, which could supply nothing but a tough old hen. I was sorry to part with the Arab merchant, a civil man, and a well-informed, yet somewhat addicted to begging like all his people. His marching freaks, however, were unendurable, dawdling at the beginning of the journey, rushing through the middle, and lagging at the end. We afterwards passed him on the road, of course he had been delayed, and subsequently, during a long halt at Unyanyembe, he frequently visited me.

On the 17th June the caravan, after sundry difficulties, caused by desertion, passed on to Irora the village of Salim bin Salih, who this time received us hospitably enough. Thence we first sighted the blue hills of Unyanyembe, our destination. The next day saw us at Yombo, where, by good accident, we met a batch of seven cloth-bales and one box en route to Ujiji, under charge of our old enemy Salim bin Sayf of Dut’humi. My complaint against “Msopora,” forwarded from Zuryomero, had, after Lieut.-Col. Hamerton’s decease, on the 5th July 1857, been laid by M. Cochet, Consul de France, before H. M. the Sayyid Majid,—a fact which accounts for the readiness with which our effects were on this occasion delivered up, and for the non-appearance of the individual in person. We also received the second packet of letters which reached us during that year: as usual, they-were full of evil news. Almost every one had lost some relation or friend near and dear to him: even Said bin Salim’s hearth had been spoiled of its chief attraction, an only son, who, born it was supposed in consequence of my “barakat” (propitious influence), had been named Abdullah. Such tidings are severely felt by the wanderer who, living long behind the world, and unable to mark its gradual changes, lulls, by dwelling upon the past, apprehension into a belief that his home has known no loss, and who expects again to meet each old familiar face ready to smile upon his return as it was to weep at his departure.

After a day’s halt to collect porters at Yombo, we marched from it on the 20th June, and passing the scene of our former miseries, the village under the lumpy hill, “Zimbili,” we re-entered Kazeh. There I was warmly welcomed by the hospitable Snay bin Amir, who, after seating us to coffee, as is the custom, for a few minutes in his Barzah or ante-room, led us to the old abode, which had been carefully repaired, swept, and plastered. There a large metal tray bending under succulent dishes of rice and curried fowl, giblets and manioc boiled in the cream of the ground-nut, and sugared omelets flavoured with ghee and onion shreds, presented peculiar attractions to half-starved travellers.

Our return from Ujiji to Unyanyembe was thus accomplished in twenty-two stations, which, halts included, occupied a total of twenty-six days, from the 26th May to the 20th June 1858, and the distance along the road may be computed at 265 statute miles.

After a day’s repose at Kazeh, I was called upon, as “etiquette” directs, by the few Arab merchants there present. Musa Mzuri, the Indian, was still absent at Karagwah, and the greater part of the commercial body was scattered in trading-trips over the country. I had the satisfaction of finding that my last indent on Zanzibar for 400 dollars’ worth of cloth and beads had arrived under the charge of Tani bin Sulayyam, who claimed four Gorah or pieces for safe conduct. I also recovered, though not without some display of force, the table and chair left by the escort and the slaves in the Dungomaro Nullah. The articles had been found by one Muinyi Khamisi, a peddling and not over-honest Msawahili, who demanded an unconscionable sum for porterage, and whose head-piece assumed the appearance of a coal-scuttle when rewarded with the six cloths proposed by Snay bin Amir. The debauched Wazira, who had remained behind at Msene, appeared with an abundance of drunken smiles, sideling in at the doorway, which he scratched more Africano with one set of five nails, whilst the other was applied to a similar purpose à posteriori. He was ejected, despite his loud asseverations that he, and he only, could clear us through the dangerous Wagogo. The sons of Ramji, who, travelling from Msene, had entered Kazeh on the day preceding our arrival, came to the house en masse, headed by Kidogo, with all the jaunty and sans-souci gait and manner of yore. I had imagined that by that time they would have found their way to the coast. I saw no reason, however, for re-engaging them, and they at once returned to the gaieties of their capital.

During the first week following the march all paid the inevitable penalty of a toilsome trudge through a perilous jungly country, in the deadliest season of the year, when the waters are drying up under a fiery sun, and a violent vent de bise from the East, which pours through the tepid air like cold water into a warm bath. Again I suffered severely from swelling and numbness of the extremities, and strength returned by tantalisingly slow degrees. My companion was a martyr to obstinate deafness and to a dimness of vision, which incapacitated him from reading, writing, and observing correctly. Both the Goanese were prostrated by fever, followed by severe rheumatism and liver-pains. In the case of Valentine, who, after a few hours lay deprived of sense and sensation, quinine appearing useless—the malady only changed from a quotidian to a tertian type—I resolved to try the Tinctura Warburgii, which had been used with such effect by Lieut.-Col. Hamerton at Zanzibar. “O true apothecary!” The result was quasi-miraculous. The anticipated paroxysm did not return; the painful emetism at once ceased; instead of a death-like lethargy, a sweet childish sleep again visited his aching eyes, and, chief boon of all to those so affected, the corroding thirst gave way to an appetite, followed by sound if not strong digestion. Finally, the painful and dangerous consequences of the disease were averted, and the subsequent attacks were scarcely worthy of notice. I feel bound in justice, after a personal experiment, which ended similarly, to pay this humble tribute of gratitude to Dr. Warburg’s invaluable discovery. The Baloch, in their turn, yielded to the effects of malaria, many complained of ulcerations and prurigo, and their recovery was protracted by a surfeit of food and its consequences. But, under the influence of narcotics, tonics, and stimulants, we presently progressed towards convalescence; and stronger than any physical relief, in my case, was the moral effect of success, and the cessation of the ghastly doubts and cares, and of the terrible wear and tear of mind which, from the coast to Uvira, had never been absent. I felt the proud consciousness of having done my best, under conditions from beginning to end the worst and the most unpromising, and that whatever future evils Fate might have in store for me, that it could not rob me of the meed won by the hardships and sufferings of the past.

Several Arab merchants were preparing to return coastwards for the “Mausim” (monsoon), or Indian trading-season, which, at Zanzibar, includes the months of December, January, and February, and they were not unwilling to avail themselves of my escort. But several reasons detained me at Kazeh. Some time was required to make preparations for the long down march. I had not given up the project of returning to the seaboard viâ Kilwa. Moreover, it was judged advisable to collect from the Arabs details concerning the interesting countries lying to the north and south of the line traversed by the Expedition. As has been mentioned in Chap. XI., the merchants had detailed to me, during my first halt at Kazeh, their discovery of a large Bahr—a sea or lake—lying fifteen or sixteen marches to the north; and from their descriptions and bearings, my companion had laid down the water in a hand-map forwarded to the Royal Geographical Society. All agreed in claiming for it superiority of size over the Tanganyika Lake. I saw at once that the existence of this hitherto unknown basin would explain many discrepancies promulgated by speculative geographers, more especially the notable and deceptive differences of distances, caused by the confusion of the two waters.[8] Remained only to ascertain if the Arabs had not, with the usual Oriental hyperbole, exaggerated the dimensions of the Northern Lake.

My companion, who had recovered strength from the repose and the comparative comfort of our head-quarters, appeared a fit person to be detached upon this duty; moreover, his presence at Kazeh was by no means desirable. To associate at the same time with Arabs and Anglo-Indians, who are ready to take offence when it is least intended, who expect servility as their due, and whose morgue of colour induces them to treat all skins a shade darker than their own as “niggers,” is even more difficult than to avoid a rupture when placed between two friends who have quarrelled with each other. Moreover, in this case, the difficulty was exaggerated by the Anglo-Indian’s complete ignorance of Eastern manners and customs, and of any Oriental language beyond, at least, a few words of the debased Anglo-Indian jargon.

I have dwelt upon this subject because my companion has thought proper to represent (in Blackwood, Oct. 1859) that I was “most unfortunately quite done up, but most graciously consented to wait with the Arabs and recruit health.” This is far from being the fact. I had other and more important matter to work out. Writing from the spot (Unyanyembe, 2nd July 1858, and published in the Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society, 24th Jan. 1859) my companion represents the case somewhat differently. “To diminish the disappointment, caused by the short-coming of our cloth, in not seeing the whole of the Sea Ujiji, I have proposed to take a flying trip to the unknown lake, while Captain Burton prepares for our return homewards.”

On the 30th June the subject was brought forward in the presence of Said bin Salim and the Baloch. The former happily lodged at Kazeh, felt loath to tear himself from the massive arms of his charmer Halimah. He finessed as usual, giving an evasive answer, viz. that he could not decide till the last day, and he declined to influence the escort, who afterwards declared that he had done all in his power to deter them from the journey. In vain my companion threatened him with forfeiture of his reward after he returned to Zanzibar; in vain my companion told him that it was forfeited.[9] He held firm, and I was not over-anxious in influencing him, well knowing that though the Baloch, a stolid race, might prove manageable, the brain of the Machiavellian Arab, whose egregious selfishness never hesitated at any measure calculated to ensure its gratification, was of a somewhat too heavy metal for the article opposed to it. That Said bin Salim attempted to thwart the project I have no doubt. The Kirangozi, and the fifteen porters hired from his village with the tempting offer of five cloths per man, showed an amount of fear and shirking hardly justified by the real risks of treading so well known a tract. The Jemadar and his men at first positively refused their escort, but the meaning word “Bakhshish” slipping in reassured me. After informing them that in case of recusancy their rations should be stopped, I inquired the amount of largesse expected. The ten efficient men composing the guard demanded fifteen cloths a piece, besides one porter each to carry their matchlocks and pervanents. The number of the porters was reduced, the cloth was procured from an Arab merchant, Sayf bin Said el Wardi, at an expense of one hundred dollars, made payable by draught upon Ladha Damha of Zanzibar: at the same time, the Baloch were warned that they must option between this and the reward conditionally promised to them after return.[10] Their bad example was followed by the old and faithful servant “Bombay,” who required instant dismissal unless he also received cloth before the journey: he was too useful to my companion as interpreter and steward to be lightly parted with. But the granting his claim led to a similar strike and menace on the part of the bull-headed slave Mabruki, who, being merely a “headache” to me, at once “got the sack” till he promised, if pardoned, to shake off his fear, and not to be naughty in future. By dint of severe exertion my companion was enabled to leave Kazeh on the 10th July.

I proceed to recount the most important portion of the information—for ampler details the reader is referred to the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society—collected during my halt at Kazeh from various sources, Arab and African, especially from Snay bin Amir, concerning—

THE NORTHERN KINGDOMS: KARAGWAH, UGANDA, AND UNYORO.

The extensive and hitherto unknown countries described in this chapter, being compact despotisms, resembling those of Ashanti and Dahomey more than the semi-monarchies of Unyamwezi and Urundi, or the barbarous republics of Uvinza and Ujiji, are designated the Northern Kingdoms. It is regrettable that oral information, and not the results of actual investigation, are offered to the reader concerning regions so interesting as the Southern Tanganyika, the Northern Kingdoms, and the provinces south of Unyanyembe. But absolute obstacles having interfered, it was judged advisable to use the labours of others rather than to omit all notice of a subject which has the importance of novelty, because it lacked the advantages of a regular exploration.

Informants agree in representing the northern races as superior in civilisation and social constitution to the other tribes of Eastern and Central Africa. Like the subjects of the Kazembe, they have built extensive and regular settlements, and they reverence even to worship a single despot, who rules with a rigour which in Europe would be called barbarity. Having thrown off the rude equality of their neighbours, they recognise ranks in society; there is order amongst men, and some idea of honour in women; they add to commerce credit, without which commerce can hardly exist; and they hospitably entertain strangers and guests. These accounts are confirmed by the specimens of male and female slaves from Karagwah and Uganda seen at Unyanyembe: between them and the southern races there is a marked physical difference. Their heads are of a superior cast: the regions where the reflective faculties and the moral sentiments, especially benevolence, are placed, rise high; the nose is more of the Caucasian type; the immoderate masticating apparatus which gives to the negro and the lower negroid his peculiar aspect of animality, is greatly modified, and the expression of the countenance is soft, kindly, and not deficient in intelligence.

From Unyanyembe to Kibuga, the capital of Uganda, are fifty-three stages, which are distributed into four crucial stations of Usui, Karagwah, dependent Unyoro, and Uganda. A few remarks concerning each of these divisions may not be unacceptable.

Between Unyanyembe and Usui are sixteen long, or nineteen short, stages. Though the road is for the most part rough and hilly, the marches can scarcely be reduced below ten statute, or six rectilinear geo. miles per diem; in fact, the geographer’s danger when making these estimates is, that of falling, through fear of exaggeration, into the opposite and equally incorrect extreme. The general direction of the line leading from Kazeh, in Unyanyembe, to Karagwah, pointed out by Snay bin Amir, bore 345° (corrected 332°); the length of the nineteen marches would be about 115 geo. miles. The southern frontier of Usui may, therefore, be safely placed in S. lat. 3° 10′.

The route from Kazeh to Usui falls at once westward of the line leading to the Nyanza Lake; it diverges, however, but little at first, as they both traverse the small districts of Ulikampuri, Unyambewa, and Ukuni. Usonga, crossed in five short marches, is the first considerable district north of Unyanyembe. Thence the road enters the province of Utumbara, which is flanked on the east by Usambiro, and on the west by Uyungu, governed by the Muhinda Sultan, Kanze. Utumbara, as has been mentioned, was lately plundered, and Ruhembe, its chief, was slain, by the predatory Watuta. In Utumbara and Usambiro the people are chiefly the Wafyoma, a tribe of Wanyamwezi: they are a commercial race, like the Wajiji—trafficking in hoes and ivory; and their present Sultan, Mutawazi, has often been visited by the Arabs. Uyofu, governed by Mnyamurunda, is the northern boundary of Unyamwezi, after which the route enters the ill famed territory of Usui.

Usui is traversed in seven marches, making a sum of twenty-six from Kazeh. According to the former computation, a total march of about 156 geo. miles would place the southern frontier of Karagwah in S. lat. 2° 40′. The road in several parts discloses a view of the Nyanza Lake. Usui is described as a kind of neutral ground between the rolling plateau of Unyamwezi and the highlands of Karagwah: it is broken by ridges in two places—Nyakasene the fourth, and Ruhembe the seventh stage, where mention is also made of a small stream. From this part of the country a wild nutmeg is brought to Kazeh by caravans: the Arabs declare that it grows upon the well-wooded hills, and the only specimen shown was heavy and well flavoured, presenting a marked contrast to the poor produce of Zanzibar island.

The Wasúí, according to the Arabs, are not Wanyamwezi. They are considered dangerous, and they have frequently cut off the route to caravans from Karagwah. Their principal sultan, a Muhinda named Suwarora, demands exorbitant blackmail, and is described as troublesome and overbearing: his bad example has been imitated by his minor chiefs.

The kingdom of Karagwah, which is limited on the north by the Kitangure or Kitangule River, a great western influent of the Nyanza Lake, occupies twelve days in traversing. The usual estimate would thus give it a depth of 72, and place the northern limit about 228 rectilinear geo. miles from Kazeh, or in S. lat. 1° 40′. But the Kitangure River, according to the Arabs, falls into the Nyanza diagonally from south-west to north-east. Its embouchure will, therefore, not be distant from the equator. The line of road is thus described: After ascending the hills of Ruhembe the route, deflecting eastward, pursues for three days the lacustrine plain of the Nyanza. At Tenga, the fourth station, the first gradient of the Karagwah mountains is crossed, probably at low levels, where the spurs fall towards the lake. Kafuro is a large district where merchants halt to trade, in the vicinity of Weranhánjá, the royal settlement, which commands a distant view of the Nyanza. Nyakahanga, the eighth stage, is a gradient similar to that of Tenga; and Magugi, the tenth station, conducts the traveller to the northernmost ridge of Karagwah. The mountains are described as abrupt and difficult, but not impracticable for laden asses: they are compared by the Arabs to the Rubeho chain of Usagara. This would raise them about 4000 feet above the mean level of the Unyamwezi plateau and the Nyanza water, and about 8000 feet above this sea. Their surface, according to the Arabs, is alternately earth and stone, the former covered with plantains and huge timber-trees, the latter bare, probably by reason of their altitude. There are no plains, bush, or jungle, but the deep ravines and the valleys intersecting the various ridges drain the surface of the hills, and are the sites of luxuriant cultivation. The people of Karagwah, averse to the labour of felling the patriarchs of the forest, burn “bois de vache,” like the natives of Usukuma. North of Magugi, at Katanda, a broad flat extends eastwards: the path thence descends the northern counterslope, and falls into the alluvial plain of the Kitungure River.

Karagwah is thus a mass of highlands, bounded on the north by dependent Unyoro, on the south by Usui, eastward by the tribes of Wahayya and Wapororo, upon the lacustrine plain of the Nyanza; on the south-west it inosculates with Urundi, which has been described as extending from the north-eastern extremity of the Tanganyika Lake. Its equatorial position and its altitude enable it to represent the Central African prolongation of the Lunar Mountains. Ptolemy describes this range, which he supposes to send forth the White Nile, as stretching across the continent for a distance of 10° of longitude. For many years this traditional feature has somewhat fallen into discredit: some geographers have changed the direction of the line, which, like the Himalayas, forms the base of the South African triangle from east and west to north and south, thus converting it into a formation akin to the ghauts or lateral ranges of the Indian peninsula; whilst others have not hesitated to cast ridicule upon the mythus. From the explorations of the “Mombas Mission” in Usumbara, Chhaga, and Kitui, and from the accounts of Arab visitors to the lands of Umasai and the kingdom of Karagwah, it appears that from the fifth parallel of S. lat. to the equator, an elevated mass of granite and sandstone formation crosses from the shores of the Indian Ocean to the centre of Tropical Africa. The vast limestone band which extends from the banks of the Burramputra to those of the Tagus appears to be prolonged as far south as the Eastern Horn, and near the equator to give place to sandstone formations. The line is not, however, as might be expected from analogy with the Himalayan, a continuous unbroken chain; it consists of insulated mountains, apparently volcanic, rising from elevated plains, and sometimes connected by barren and broken ridges. The south-eastern threshold of the Lunar cordillera is the highland region of Usumbara, which may attain the height of 3000 or 4000 feet above sea-level. It leads by a succession of mountain and valley to Chhaga, whose apex is the “Æthiopian Olympus,” Kilima-Ngao. From this corner-pillar the line trends westward, and the route to Burkene passes along the base of the principal elevations, Doengo Engai and Endia Siriani. Beyond Burkene lies the Nyanza Lake, in a huge gap which, breaking the continuity of the line, drains the regions westward of Kilima-Ngao, whilst those to the eastward, the Pangani and other similar streams, discharge their waters to the south-east into the Indian Ocean. The kingdom of Karagwah prolongs the line to Urundi, upon the Tanganyika Lake, where the south-western spurs of the Lunar Mountains form a high continuous belt. Mr. Petherick, of Khartum, travelling twenty-five marches, each of twenty miles (?), in a south-south-western and due-southerly direction from the Bahr el Ghazal, found a granitic ridge rising, he supposes 2000 to 2500 feet above the plain, near the equator, and lying nearly upon the same parallel of latitude, and in about 27° E. long. Beyond that point the land is still unexplored. Thence the mountains may sink into the great Depression of Central Africa, or, deflected northwards of the kingdom of Uropua, they may inosculate with the ridge which, separating the northern negroid races of Islamised Africa from their negro brethren to the south, is popularly known, according to Denham and Clapperton, as el-Gibel Gumhr,—Jebel Kamar,—or Mons Lunæ.

The high woody hills of Karagwah attract a quantity of rain. The long and copious wet monsoon divides the year into two seasons—a winter of seven or eight, and a summer of four or five months. The Vuli, or lesser rains, commence, as at Zanzibar, with the Nayruz (29th of August); and they continue with little intermission till the burst of the Masika, which lasts in Karagwah from October to May or June. The winds, as in Unyamwezi, are the Kaskazi, or north and north-east gales, which shift during the heavier falls of rain to the Kosi, the west and south-west. Storms of thunder and lightning are frequent, and the Arabs compare the down-pour rather to that of Zanzibar island than to the scanty showers of Unyamwezi. The sowing season at Karagwah, as at Msene and Ujiji, begins with the Vuli, when maize and millet, the voandzeia, various kinds of beans and pulse, are committed to the well-hoed ground. Rice being unknown, the people depend much upon holcus: this cereal, which is sown in October to prepare for the Masika in November, has, in the mountains, a short cane and a poor insipid grain of the red variety. The people convert it into pombe; and they make the wine called mawa from the plantains, which in several districts are more abundant than the cereals. Karagwah grows according to some, according to others imports from the northern countries, along the western margin of the Nyanza Lake, a small wild coffee, locally called mwámí. Like all wild productions, it is stunted and undeveloped, and the bean, which, when perfect, is about the size of a corking-pin’s head, is never drunk in decoction. The berry gathered unripe is thrown into hot water to defend it from rot, or to prevent its drying too rapidly—an operation which converts the husk to a dark chocolate colour—the people of this country chew it like tobacco, and, during visits, a handful is invariably presented to the guest. According to the Arabs, it has, like the kishr of Yemen, stimulating properties, affects the head, prevents somnolency, renders water sweet to the taste, and forms a pleasant refreshing beverage, which the palate, however, never confounds with the taste of the Mocha-berry. In Karagwah a single khete of beads purchases a kubabah (from 1 lb. to 2 lbs.) of this coffee; at Kazeh and Msene, where it is sometimes brought by caravans, it sells at fancy prices. Another well-known production of all these regions is the mt’hípít’hípí, or Abrus precatorius, whose scarlet seeds are converted into ornaments for the head.

The cattle is a fine variety, with small humps and large horns, like that of Ujiji and Uviva. The herds are reckoned by Gundu, or stallions, in the proportion of 1 to 100 cows. The late Sultan Ndagara is said to have owned 200 Gundu, or 20,000 cows, which late civil wars have reduced to 12,000 or 13,000. In Karagwah cattle forms wealth, and everywhere in Africa wealth, and wealth only, secures defenders and dependants. The surplus males are killed for beef; this meat, with milk in its various preparations, and a little of the fine white hill-honey, forms the food of the higher classes.

The people of Karagwah, who are not, according to South African fashion, called Wakaragwah, are divided into two orders—Wahuma and Wanyambo—who seem to bear to each other the relation of patron and client, patrician and plebeian. The Wahuma comprises the rich, who sometimes possess 1000 head of cattle, and the warriors, a militia paid in the milk of cows allotted to their temporary use by the king. The Wanyambo—Fellahs or Ryots—are, it is said, treated by the nobles as slaves. The men of Karagwah are a tall stout race, doubtless from the effect of pure mountain-air and animal food. Corpulence is a beauty: girls are fattened to a vast bulk by drenches of curds and cream thickened with flour, and are duly disciplined when they refuse. The Arabs describe them as frequently growing to a monstrous size, like some specimens of female Boers mentioned by early travellers in Southern Africa. Fresh milk is the male, sour the female beverage. The complexion is a brown yellow, like that of the Warundi. The dress of the people, and even of the chiefs, is an apron of close-grained mbugu, or bark-cloth, softened with oil, and crimped with fine longitudinal lines made with a batten or pounding club. In shape it resembles the flap of an English saddle, tied by a prolongation of the upper corners round the waist. To this scarcely decent article the chiefs add a languti, or Indian-T-bandage of goat’s skin. Nudity is not uncommon, and nubile girls assume the veriest apology for clothing, which is exchanged after marriage for short kilts and breast coverings of skin. Both sexes wear tiara-shaped and cravat-formed ornaments of the crimson abrus-seed, pierced and strung upon mondo, the fine fibre of the mwale or raphia-palm. The weapons are bows and arrows, spears, knobsticks, and knives; the ornaments are beads and coil-bracelets, which, with cattle, form the marriage settlement. The huts are of the conical and circular African shape, with walls of stakes and roofs so carefully thatched that no rain can penetrate them: the villages, as in Usagara, are scattered upon the crests and ridges of the hills.

The Mkámá, or Sultan of Karagwah, in 1858, was Armanika, son of Ndagara, who, although the dignity is in these lands hereditary, was opposed by his younger brother Rumanika. The rebel, after an obstinate attack, was routed by Suna, the late despot of Uganda, who, bribed by the large present of ivory, which was advanced by Musa Mzuri of Kazeh, then trading with Armanika, threw a large force into the field. Rumanika was blinded and pensioned, and about four years ago peace was restored. Armanika resides in the central district, Weranhanja, and his settlement, inhabited only by the royal family, contains from forty to fifty huts. He is described as a man about thirty to thirty-five years old, tall, sturdy, and sinewy-limbed, resembling the Somal. His dress is, by preference, the mbugu, or bark-cloth, but he has a large store of fine raiment presented by his Arab visitors: in ornaments he is distinguished by tight gaiters of beads extending from knee to ankle. His diet is meat and milk, with sometimes a little honey, plantains, and grain: unlike his subjects, he eschews mawa and pombe. He has about a dozen wives, an unusually moderate allowance for an African chief, and they have borne him ten or eleven children. The royal family is said to be a race of centagenarians; they are buried in their garments, sitting and holding their weapons: when the king dies there is a funeral feast.

Under the Mkama is a single minister, who takes the title of Muhinda, and presides over the Wakungu, elders and headmen, whose duty it is to collect and to transmit to the monarch once every month his revenues, in the shape of slaves and ivory, cattle and provisions. Milk must be forwarded by proprietors of cows and herds even from a distance of three days’ march. Armanika is an absolute ruler, and he governs without squeamishness. Adulterers are punished by heavy fines in cattle, murderers are speared and beheaded, rebels and thieves are blinded by gouging out the eyes with the finger-joints of the right-hand, and severing the muscles. Subjects are forbidden to sell milk to those who eat beans or salt, for fear of bewitching the animals. The Mkama, who lives without state or splendour, receives travellers with courtesy. Hearing of their approach, he orders his slaves to erect four or five tents for shelter, and he greets them with a large present of provisions. He demands no blackmail, but the offerer is valued according to his offerings: the return gifts are carefully proportioned, and for beads which suit his taste he has sent back an acknowledgment of fifty slaves and forty cows. The price of adult male slaves varies from eight to ten fundo of white, green, or blue porcelain-beads: a woman in her prime costs two kitindi (each equal to one dollar on the coast), and five or six fundo of mixed beasts. Some of these girls, being light-coloured and well favoured, sell for sixty dollars at Zanzibar. The merchants agree in stating that a European would receive in Karagwah the kindest welcome, but that to support the dignity of the white face a considerable sum would be required. Arabs still visit Armanika to purchase slaves, cattle, and ivory, the whitest and softest, the largest and heaviest in this part of Central Africa. The land is rich in iron, and the spears of Karagwah, which are, to some extent, tempered, are preferred to the rude work of the Wafyoma. Sulphur is found, according to the Arabs, near hot springs amongst the mountains. A species of manatus (?) supplies a fine skin used for clothing. The simbi, or cowrie (Cypræa), is the minor currency of the country: it is brought from the coast by return caravans of Wanyamwezi.

The country of Karagwah is at present the head-quarters of the Watosi, a pastoral people who are scattered throughout these Lake Regions. They came, according to tradition, from Usingo, a mountain district lying to the north of Uhha. They refuse to carry loads, to cultivate the ground, or to sell one another. Harmless, and therefore unarmed, they are often plundered, though rarely slain, by other tribes, and they protect themselves by paying fees in cattle to the chiefs. When the Wahinda are sultans, the Watosi appear as councillors and elders; but whether this rank is derived from a foreign and superior origin, or is merely the price of their presents, cannot be determined. In appearance they are a tall, comely, and comparatively fair people; hence in some parts every “distinguished foreigner” is complimented by being addressed as “Mtosi.” They are said to derive themselves from a single ancestor, and to consider the surrounding tribes as serviles, from whom they will take concubines, but to whom they refuse their daughters. Some lodges of this people were seen about Unyanyembe and Msene, where they live by selling cattle, milk, and butter. Their villages are poor, dirty, and unpalisaded; mere scatters of ragged round huts. They have some curious practices: never eat out of their own houses, and, after returning from abroad, test, by a peculiar process, the fidelity of their wives before anointing themselves and entering their houses. The Arabs declare that they are known by their black gums, which they consider a beauty.

The last feature of importance in Karagwah is the Kitangure River on its northern frontier. This stream, deriving its name from a large settlement on its banks, according to some travellers flows through a rocky trough, according to others it traverses a plain. Some, again, make it thirty yards, others 600, and even half a mile, in breadth. All these statements are reconcileable. The river issues from Higher Urundi, not far from the Malagarazi; but whilst the latter, engaged in the Depression of Central Africa, is drawn towards the Tanganyika, the former, falling into the counterslope, is directed to the north-east into the Nyanza Lake. Its course would thus lie through a mountain-valley, from which it issues into a lacustrine plain, the lowlands of Unyoro and Uganda. The dark and swift stream must be crossed in canoes even during the dry season, but, like the Malagarazi, about June or at the end of the rains, it debords over the swampy lands of its lower course.

From the Kitangure River fifteen stations conduct the traveller to Kibuga, the capital district of Uganda, and the residence of its powerful despot. The maximum of these marches would be six daily, or a total of ninety rectilinear geographical miles. Though there are no hills, the rivers and rivulets—said to be upwards of a hundred in number—offer serious obstacles to rapid travelling. Assuming then, the point where the Kitangure River is crossed to be in S. lat. 1° 14′, Kibuga may be placed in S. lat. 0° 10′. Beyond Weranhanja no traveller with claims to credibility has seen the Nyanza water. North of Kibuga all is uncertain; the Arabs were not permitted by Suna, the last despot, to penetrate farther north.

The two first marches from the Kitangure River traverse the territory of “dependent Unyoro,” so called because it has lately become subject to the Sultan of Uganda. In former times Unyoro in crescent-shape, with the cusps fronting eastwards and westwards, almost encompassed Uganda. From dependent Unyoro the path, crossing a tract of low jungle, enters Uganda in the concave of the crescent. The tributary Wahayya, under Gaetawa, their sultan, still extend to the eastward. North of the Wahayya, of whose territory little is known, lies “Kittara,” in Kinyoro (or Kiganda?), a word interpreted to mean “mart,” or “meeting-place.” This is the region which supplies Karagwah with coffee. The shrub is propagated by sowing the bean. It attains the height of five feet, branching out about half-way; it gives fruit after the third, and is in full vigour after the fifth year. Before almost every hut-door there is a plantation, forming an effective feature in the landscape of rolling and wavy hill, intersected by a network of rivers and streams: the foliage is compared to a green tapestry veiling the ground; and at times, when the leaves are stripped off by wind and rain, the plant appears decked with brilliant crimson cherry-like berries. The Katonga River, crossed at Kitutu, is supposed to fall into the Nyanza, the general recipient of the network of streams about Karagwah. This diagonality may result from the compound incline produced by the northern counterslope of the mountains of Karagwah and the south-westward depression necessary to form and to supply the lake. The Katonga is a sluggish and almost stagnant body of considerable breadth, and when swollen it arrests the progress of caravans. Some portions of the river are crossed, according to the Arabs, over a thick growth of aquatic vegetation, which forms a kind of matwork, capable of supporting a man’s weight, and cattle are towed over in the more open parts by cords attached to their horns. Four stations lead from the Katonga River to Kibuga, the capital district of Uganda.

Kibuga is the residence of the great Mkámá or chief of Uganda. Concerning its population and peculiarities the Arabs must be allowed to tell their own tale. “Kibuga, the settlement, is not less than a day’s journey in length; the buildings are of cane and rattan. The sultan’s palace is at least a mile long, and the circular huts, neatly ranged in line, are surrounded by a strong fence which has only four gates. Bells at the several entrances announce the approach of strangers, and guards in hundreds attend there at all hours. They are commanded by four chiefs, who are relieved every second day: these men pass the night under hides raised upon uprights, and their heads are forfeited if they neglect to attend to the summons of the king. The harem contains about 3000 souls—concubines, slaves, and children. No male nor adult animal may penetrate, under pain of death, beyond the Barzah, a large vestibule or hall of audience where the king dispenses justice and receives his customs. This palace has often been burned down by lightning: on these occasions the warriors must assemble and extinguish the fire by rolling over it. The chief of Uganda has but two wants with which he troubles his visitors—one, a medicine against death; the other, a charm to avert the thunderbolt: and immense wealth would reward the man who could supply either of these desiderata.”

Suna, the great despot of Uganda, a warlike chief, who wrested dependent Unyoro from its former possessor, reigned till 1857. He perished in the prime of life and suddenly, as the Arabs say, like Namrud, whilst riding “pickaback”—the state carriage of Central Africa—upon a minister’s shoulders, he was struck by the shaft of the destroyer in the midst of his mighty host. As is the custom of barbarous and despotic races, the event was concealed for some months. When the usual time had expired, one of his many sons, exchanging his heir-elective name “Sámunjú” for Mtesa, became king. The court usage compels the newly elected chief to pass two years in retirement, committing state affairs to his ministers; little, therefore, is yet known of him. As he will certainly tread in the footsteps of his sire, the Arabs may again be allowed to describe the state and grandeur of the defunct Suna; and as Suna was in fact the whole kingdom of Uganda, the description will elucidate the condition of the people in general.

“The army of Uganda numbers at least 300,000 men; each brings an egg to muster, and thus something like a reckoning of the people is made. Each soldier carries one spear, two assegais, a long dagger, and a shield, bows and swords being unknown. When marching the host is accompanied by women and children carrying spare weapons, provisions, and water. In battle they fight to the sound of drums, which are beaten with sticks like those of the Franks: should this performance cease, all fly the field. Wars with the Wanyoro, the Wasoga, and other neighbours are rendered almost chronic by the policy as well as the pleasure of the monarch, and there are few days on which a foraging party does not march from or return to the capital. When the king has no foreign enemies, or when the exchequer is indecently deficient, he feigns a rebellion, attacks one of his own provinces, massacres the chief men, and sells off the peasantry. Executions are frequent, a score being often slain at a time: when remonstrated with concerning this barbarity, Sana declared that he had no other secret for keeping his subjects in awe of him, and for preventing conspiracies. Sometimes the king would accompany his army to a battue of game, when the warriors were expected to distinguish themselves by attacking the most ferocious beasts without weapons: even the elephant, borne down by numbers, yielded to the grasp of man. When passing a village he used to raise a shout, which was responded to by a loud flourish of horns, reed-pipes, iron whistles, and similar instruments. At times he decreed a grand muster of his soldiery: he presented himself sitting before his gate, with a spear in the right hand, and holding in the left the leash of a large and favourite dog resembling an Arab suluki or greyhound. The master of the hounds was an important personage. Suna took great pleasure in witnessing trials of strength, the combatants contending with a mixture of slapping and pushing till one fell to the ground. He had a large menagerie of lions, elephants, leopards, and similar beasts of disport, to whom he would sometimes give a criminal as a ‘curée:’ he also kept for amusement fifteen or sixteen albinos; and so greedy was he of novelty that even a cock of peculiar or uniform colour would have been forwarded by its owner to feed his eyes.”

Suna when last visited by the Arabs was a “red man,” aged about forty-five, tall, robust, and powerful of limb, with a right kingly presence and a warrior carriage. His head was so shaven as to leave what the Omani calls “el Kishshah,” a narrow crest of hair like a cock’s comb, from nape to brow; nodding and falling over his face under its weight of strung beads, it gave him a fierce and formidable aspect. This tonsure, confined to those about the palace, distinguishes its officers and inmates, servile as well as free, from the people. The Ryots leave patches of hair where they please, but they may not shave the whole scalp under pain of death, till a royal edict unexpectedly issued at times commands every head to shed its honours. Suna never appeared in public without a spear; his dress was the national costume, a long piece of the fine crimped mbugu or bark-cloth manufactured in these regions, extending from the neck to the ground. He made over to his women the rich clothes presented by the Arabs, and allowed them to sew with unravelled cotton thread, whereas the people under severe penalties were compelled to use plantain fibre. No commoner could wear domestics or similar luxuries; and in the presence, the accidental exposure of a limb led, according to the merchants, to the normal penalty—death.

Suna, like the northern despots generally, had a variety of names, all expressing something bitter, mighty, or terrible, as, for instance, Lbare, the Almighty (?); Mbidde and Purgoma, a lion. He could not understand how the Sultan of Zanzibar allowed his subjects treasonably to assume the name of their ruler; and besides mortifying the Arabs by assuming an infinite superiority over their prince, he shocked them by his natural and unaffected impiety. He boasted to them that he was the god of earth, as their Allah was the Lord of Heaven. He murmured loudly against the abuse of lightning; and he claimed from his subjects divine honours, which were as readily yielded to him as by the facile Romans to their emperors. No Mgándá would allow the omnipotence of his sultan to be questioned, and a light word concerning him would have imperilled a stranger’s life. Suna’s domestic policy reminds the English reader of the African peculiarities which form the groundwork of “Rasselas.” His sons, numbering more than one hundred, were removed from the palace in early youth to separate dungeons, and so secured with iron collars and fetters fastened to both ends of a long wooden bar that the wretches could never sit, and without aid could neither rise nor lie. The heir-elective was dragged from his chains to fill a throne, and the cadets will linger through their dreadful lives, unless wanted as sovereigns, until death release them. Suna kept his female children under the most rigid surveillance within the palace: he had, however, a favourite daughter named Nasuru, whose society was so necessary to him that he allowed her to appear with him in public.

The principal officers under the despot of Uganda are, first, the Kimara Vyona (literally the “finisher of all things”): to him, the chief civilian of the land, the city is committed; he also directs the kabaka or village headmen. The second is the Sakibobo or commander-in-chief, who has power over the Sáwágánzí, the life-guards and slaves, the warriors and builders of the palace. Justice is administered in the capital by the sultan, who, though severe, is never accused of perverting the law, which here would signify the ancient custom of the country. A Mhozi—Arabised to Hoz, and compared with the Kazi of el Islam—dispenses in each town criminal and civil rights. The only punishments appear to be death and mulcts. Capital offenders are beheaded or burned; in some cases they are flayed alive; the operation commences with the face, and the skin, which is always much torn by the knife, is stuffed as in the old torturing days of Asia. When a criminal absconds, the males of his village are indiscriminately slain and the women are sold—blood and tears must flow for discipline. In money suits each party begins by placing before the Mhozi a sum equivalent to the disputed claim; the object is to prevent an extensive litigiousness. Suna used to fine by fives or tens, dozens or scores, according to the offender’s means; thus from a wealthy man he would take twenty male and twenty female slaves, with a similar number of bulls and cows, goats and kids, hens and even eggs. One of his favourites, who used constantly to sit by him on guard, matchlock in hand, was Isa bin Hosayn, a Baloch mercenary of H. H. Sayyid Said of Zanzibar. He had fled from his debtors, and had gradually wandered to Uganda, where the favour of the sovereign procured him wealth in ivory, and a harem containing from 200 to 300 women. “Mzagayya,”—the hairy one, as he was locally called, from his long locks and bushy beard—was not permitted, nor probably did he desire, to quit the country; after his patron’s death he fled to independent Unyoro, having probably raised up, as these adventurers will, a host of enemies at Uganda.

Suna greatly encouraged, by gifts and attention, the Arab merchants to trade in his capital; the distance has hitherto prevented more than half-a-dozen caravans travelling to Kibuga; all however came away loudly praising his courtesy and hospitality. To a poor trader he has presented twenty slaves, and an equal number of cows, without expecting any but the humblest return. The following account of a visit paid to him in 1852, by Snay bin Amir, may complete his account of the despot Uganda. When the report of arrival was forwarded by word of mouth to Suna, he issued orders for the erection of as many tents as might be necessary. The guest, who was welcomed with joyful tumult by a crowd of gazers, and was conducted to the newly-built quarters, where he received a present of bullocks and grain, plantains and sugar-canes. After three or four days for repose, he was summoned to the Barzah or audience hall, outside of which he found a squatting body of about 2000 guards armed only with staves. Allowed to retain his weapons, he entered with an interpreter and saluted the chief, who, without rising, motioned his guest to sit down in front of him. Suna’s only cushion was a mbugu; his dress was of the same stuff; two spears lay close at hand, and his dog was as usual by his side. The Arab thought proper to assume the posture of homage, namely, to sit upon his shins, bending his back, and, with eyes fixed on the ground—he had been cautioned against staring at the “god of earth,”—to rest his hands upon his lap. The levee was full; at a distance of fifty paces between the king and the guards sat the ministers; and inside the palace, so placed that they could see nothing but the visitor’s back, were the principal women, who are forbidden to gaze at or to be gazed at by a stranger. The room was lit with torches of a gummy wood, for Suna, who eschewed pombe, took great pleasure in these audiences, which were often prolonged from sunset to midnight.

The conversation began with a string of questions concerning Zanzibar, the route, the news, and the other staple topics of barbarous confabulation; when it flagged, a minister was called up to enliven it. No justice was administered nor present offered during the first audience; it concluded with the despot rising, at which signal all dispersed. At the second visit Snay presented his blackmail, which consisted of ten cotton cloths, and one hundred fundo of coral, and other porcelain beads. The return was an offering of two ivories and a pair of serviles; every day, moreover, flesh and grain, fruit and milk were supplied without charge; whenever the wish was expressed, a string of slave-girls presently appeared bending under loads of the article in question; and it was intimated to the “king’s stranger” that he might lay hands upon whatever he pleased, animate or inanimate. Snay, however, was too wise to avail himself of this truly African privilege. During the four interviews which followed, Suna proved himself a man of intelligence: he inquired about the Wazungu or Europeans, and professed to be anxious for a closer alliance with the Sultan of Zanzibar. When Snay took leave he received the usual present of provisions for the road, and 200 guards prepared to escort him, an honour which he respectfully declined: Suna offered to send with him several loads of elephants’ tusks as presents to H. H. the Sayyid; but the merchant declined to face with them the difficulties and dangers of Usúí. Like all African chiefs, the despot considered these visits as personal honours paid to himself; his pride therefore peremptorily forbade strangers to pass northwards of his capital, lest the lesser and hostile chiefs might boast a similar brave. According to Snay, an European would be received with distinction, if travelling with supplies to support his dignity. He would depend, however, upon his ingenuity and good fortune upon further progress; and perhaps the most feasible plan to explore the water-shed north of the Nyanza Lake would be to buy or to build, with the permission of the reigning monarch, boats upon the nearest western shore. Suna himself, had, according to Snay, constructed a flotilla of matumbi or undecked vessels similar in shape to the Mtope or Muntafiyah—the modern “Ploiaria Rhapta” of the Sawahili coast from Lamu to Kilwa.

Few details were given by the Arabs concerning the vulgar herd of Waganda: they are, as has been remarked, physically a finer race than the Wayamwezi, and they are as superior in character; more docile and better disciplined, they love small gifts, and show their gratitude by prostrating themselves before the donor. The specimens of slaves seen at Kazeh were, however, inferior to the mountaineers of Karagwah; the complexion was darker, and the general appearance more African. Their language is, to use an Arab phrase, like that of birds, soft and quickly spoken; the specimens collected prove without doubt that it belongs to the Zangian branch of the great South-African family. Their normal dress is the mbugu, under which, however, all wear the “languti” or Indian-T-bandage of goatskin; women appear in short kilts and breast-coverings of the same material. Both sexes decorate their heads with the tiara of abrus-seeds alluded to when describing the people of Karagwah. As sumptuary laws impede the free traffic of cloth into Uganda, the imports are represented chiefly by beads, cowries, and brass and copper wires. The wealth of the country is in cattle, ivory, and slaves, the latter often selling for ten fundo of beads, and the same sum will purchase the Wasoga and Wanyoro captives from whom the despot derives a considerable portion of his revenues. The elephant is rare in Uganda; tusks are collected probably by plunder from Usoga, and the alakah of about ninety Arab pounds is sold for two slaves, male or female. The tobacco, brought to market in leaf, as in Ujiji, and not worked, as amongst the other tribes, is peculiarly good. Flesh, sweet potatoes, and the highly nutritious plantain, which grows in groves a whole day’s march long, are the chief articles of diet; milk is drunk by women only, and ghee is more valued for unction than for cookery. The favourite inebrients are mawa and pombe; the latter is served in neatly carved and coloured gourds, and the contents are imbibed, like sherry cobbler, through a reed.