How I Found Livingstone by Henry M. Stanley (trending books to read .txt) 📕

good living—abhors marching, unless he has nothing to carry but

his gun.

Jumah is the best abused man of the party, because he has

old-womanish ways with him, yet in his old-womanish ways he is

disposed to do the best he can for me, though he will not carry a

pound in weight without groaning terribly at his hard fate. To me

he is sentimental and pathetic; to the unimportant members of the

caravan he is stern and uncompromising. But the truth is, that I

could well dispense with Jumah’s presence: he was one of the

incorrigible inutiles, eating far more than he was worth; besides

being an excessively grumbling and querulous fool.

Ulimengo, a strong stalwart fellow of thirty, was the maddest and

most hare-brained of my party. Though an arrant coward, he was a

consummate boaster. But though a devotee of pleasure and fun, he

was not averse from work. With one hundred men such as he, I could

travel through Africa provided there was no fighting to do. It

will be remembered that he was the martial coryphaeus who led my

little army to war against Mirambo, chanting the battle-song of

the Wangwana; and that I stated, that when the retreat was determined

upon, he was the first of my party to reach the stronghold of Mfuto.

He is a swift runner, and a fair hunter. I have been indebted to

him on several occasions for a welcome addition to my larder.

Ferajji, a former dish-washer to Speke, was my cook. He was

promoted to this office upon the defection of Bunder Salaam, and

the extreme non-fitness of Abdul Kader. For cleaning dishes, the

first corn-cob, green twig, a bunch of leaves or grass, answered

Ferajji’s purposes in the absence of a cloth. If I ordered a

plate, and I pointed out a black, greasy, sooty thumbmark to him,

a rub of a finger Ferajji thought sufficient to remove all

objections. If I hinted that a spoon was rather dirty, Ferajji

fancied that with a little saliva, and a rub of his loin cloth, the

most fastidious ought to be satisfied. Every pound of meat, and

every three spoonfuls of musk or porridge I ate in Africa,

contained at least ten grains of sand. Ferajji was considerably

exercised at a threat I made to him that on arrival at Zanzibar,

I would get the great English doctor there to open my stomach,

and count every grain of sand found in it, for each grain of which

Ferajji should be charged one dollar. The consciousness that my

stomach must contain a large number, for which the forfeits would

be heavy, made him feel very sad at times. Otherwise, Ferajji was

a good cook, most industrious, if not accomplished. He could

produce a cup of tea, and three or four hot pancakes, within ten

minutes after a halt was ordered, for which I was most grateful,

as I was almost always hungry after a long march. Ferajji sided

with Baraka against Bombay in Unyoro, and when Speke took Bombay’s

side of the question, Ferajji, out of love for Baraka, left Speke’s

service, and so forfeited his pay.

Maganga was a Mnyamwezi, a native of Mkwenkwe, a strong, faithful

servant, an excellent pagazi, with an irreproachable temper. He

it was who at all times, on the march, started the wildly exuberant

song of the Wanyamwezi porters, which, no matter how hot the sun,

or how long the march, was sure to produce gaiety and animation

among the people. At such times all hands sang, sang with voices

that could be heard miles away, which made the great forests ring

with the sounds, which startled every animal big or little, for

miles around. On approaching a village the temper of whose people

might be hostile to us, Maganga would commence his song, with the

entire party joining in the chorus, by which mode we knew whether

the natives were disposed to be friendly or hostile. If hostile,

or timid, the gates would at once be closed, and dark faces would

scowl at us from the interior; if friendly, they rushed outside of

their gates to welcome us, or to exchange friendly remarks.

An important member of the Expedition was Selim, the young Arab.

Without some one who spoke good Arabic, I could not have obtained

the friendship of the chief Arabs in Unyanyembe; neither could I

have well communicated with them, for though I understood Arabic,

I could not speak it.

I have already related how Kalulu came to be in my service, and

how he came to bear his present name. I soon found how apt and

quick he was to learn, in consequence of which, he was promoted

to the rank of personal attendant. Even Selim could not vie with

Kalulu in promptness and celerity, or in guessing my wants at the

table. His little black eyes were constantly roving over the

dishes, studying out the problem of what was further necessary,

or had become unnecessary.

We arrived at the Ziwani, in about 4 h. 30 m. from the time of

our quitting the scene which had well-nigh witnessed a sanguinary

conflict. The Ziwani, or pool, contained no water, not a drop,

until the parched tongues of my people warned them that they must

proceed and excavate for water. This excavation was performed (by

means of strong hard sticks sharply pointed) in the dry hard-caked

bottom. After digging to a depth of six feet their labours were

rewarded with the sight of a few drops of muddy liquid percolating

through the sides, which were eagerly swallowed to relieve their

raging thirst. Some voluntarily started with buckets, gourds,

and canteens south to a deserted clearing called the “Tongoni”

in Ukamba, and in about three hours returned with a plentiful

supply for immediate use, of good and clear water.

In 1 h. 30 m. we arrived at this Tongoni, or deserted clearing of

the Wakamba. Here were three or four villages burnt, and an

extensive clearing desolate, the work of the Wa-Ruga-Raga of Mirambo.

Those of the inhabitants who were left, after the spoliation and

complete destruction of the flourishing settlement, emigrated

westerly to Ugara. A large herd of buffalo now slake their thirst

at the pool which supplied the villages of Ukamba with water.

Great masses of iron haematite cropped up above the surfaces in

these forests. Wild fruit began to be abundant; the wood-apple

and tamarind and a small plum-like fruit, furnished us with many

an agreeable repast.

The honey-bird is very frequent in these forests of Ukonongo.

Its cry is a loud, quick chirrup. The Wakonongo understand how

to avail themselves of its guidance to the sweet treasure of honey

which the wild bees have stored in the cleft of some great tree.

Daily, the Wakonongo who had joined our caravan brought me immense

cakes of honey-comb, containing delicious white and red honey.

The red honey-comb generally contains large numbers of dead bees,

but our exceedingly gluttonous people thought little of these.

They not only ate the honey-bees, but they also ate a good deal of

the wax.

As soon as the honey-bird descries the traveller, he immediately

utters a series of wild, excited cries, hops about from twig to

twig, and from branch to branch, then hops to another tree,

incessantly repeating his chirruping call. The native, understanding

the nature of the little bird, unhesitatingly follows him; but

perhaps his steps are too slow for the impatient caller, upon which

he flies back, urging him louder, more impatient cries, to hasten,

and then darts swiftly forward, as if he would show how quickly he

could go to the honey-store, until at last the treasure is reached,

the native has applied fire to the bees’ nest, and secured the honey,

while the little bird preens himself, and chirrups in triumphant

notes, as if he were informing the biped that without his aid he

never could have found the honey.

Buffalo gnats and tsetse were very troublesome on this march,

owing to the numerous herds of game in the vicinity.

On the 9th of October we made a long march in a southerly direction,

and formed our camp in the centre of a splendid grove of trees.

The water was very scarce on the road. The Wamrima and Wanyamwezi

are not long able to withstand thirst. When water is plentiful

they slake their thirst at every stream and pool; when it is scarce,

as it is here and in the deserts of Marenga and Magunda Mkali,

long afternoon-marches are made; the men previously, however, filling

their gourds, so as to enable them to reach the water early next

morning. Selim was never able to endure thirst. It mattered not

how much of the precious liquid he carried, he generally drank it

all before reaching camp, and he consequently suffered during the

night. Besides this, he endangered his life by quaffing from every

muddy pool; and on this day he began to complain that he discharged

blood, which I took to be an incipient stage of dysentery.

During these marches, ever since quitting Ugunda, a favourite topic

at the camp-fires were the Wa-Ruga-Ruga, and their atrocities, and

a possible encounter that we might have with these bold rovers of

the forest. I verily believe that a sudden onset of half a dozen

of Mirambo’s people would have set the whole caravan arunning.

We reached Marefu the next day, after a short three hours’ march.

We there found an embassy sent by the Arabs of Unyanyembe, to the

Southern Watuta, bearing presents of several bales, in charge of

Hassan the Mseguhha. This valiant leader and diplomatist had halted

here some ten days because of wars and rumours of wars in his front.

It was said that Mbogo, Sultan of Mboga in Ukonongo, was at war

with the brother of Manwa Sera, and as Mbogo was a large district

of Ukonongo only two days’ march from Marefu; fear of being involved

in it was deterring old Hassan from proceeding. He advised me also

not to proceed, as it was impossible to be able to do so without

being embroiled in the conflict. I informed him that I intended

to proceed on my way, and take my chances, and graciously offered

him my escort as far as the frontier of Ufipa, from which he could

easily and safely continue on his way to the Watuta, but he

declined it.

We had now been travelling fourteen days in a southwesterly

direction, having made a little more than one degree of latitude.

I had intended to have gone a little further south, because it was

such a good road, also since by going further south we should have

labored under no fear of meeting Mirambo; but the report of this

war in our front, only two days off, compelled me, in the interest

of the Expedition, to strike across towards the Tanganika, an a

west-by-north course through the forest, travelling, when it was

advantageous, along elephant tracks and local paths. This new plan

was adopted after consulting with Asmani, the guide. We were now

in Ukonongo, having entered this district when we crossed the Gombe

creek. The next day after arriving at Marefu we plunged westward,

in view of the villagers, and the Arab ambassador, who kept

repeating until the last moment that we should “certainly catch

it.”

We marched eight hours through a forest, where the forest peach,

or the “mbembu,” is abundant. The tree that bears this fruit is

very like a pear-tree, and is very productive. I saw one tree,

upon which I estimated there were at least six or seven bushels.

I ate numbers of the peaches on this day. So long as this fruit

can be produced, a traveller in these regions need