The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile by Samuel White Baker (love story novels in english .txt) 📕

LIFE AT OBBO.

For months we dragged on a miserable existence at Obbo, wrecked by

fever; the quinine exhausted; thus the disease worried me almost to

death, returning at intervals of a few days. Fortunately my wife did not

suffer so much as I did. I had nevertheless prepared for the journey

south; and as travelling on foot would have been impossible in our weak

state, I had purchased and trained three oxen in lieu of horses. They

were named “Beef,” “Steaks,” and “Suet.” “Beef” was a magnificent

animal, but having been bitten by the flies, he so lost his condition

that I changed his name to “Bones.” We were ready to start, and the

natives reported that early in January the Asua would be fordable. I had

arranged with Ibrahim that he should supply me with porters for payment

in copper bracelets, and that he should accompany me with one hundred

men to Kamrasi’s country (Unyoro), on condition that he would restrain

his people from all misdemeanours, and that they should be entirely

subservient to me. It was the month of December, and during the nine

months that I had been in correspondence with his party I had succeeded

in acquiring an extraordinary influence. Although my camp was nearly

three-quarters of a mile from their zareeba, I had been besieged daily

for many months for everything that was wanted; my camp was a kind of

general store that appeared to be inexhaustible. I gave all that I had

with a good grace, and thereby gained the goodwill of the robbers,

especially as my large medicine chest contained a supply of drugs that

rendered me in their eyes a physician of the first importance. I had

been very successful with my patients; and the medicines that I

generally used being those which produced a very decided effect, both

the Turks and natives considered them with perfect faith. There was

seldom any difficulty in prognosticating the effect of tartar emetic,

and this became the favourite drug that was applied for almost daily; a

dose of three grains enchanting the patient, who always advertised my

fame by saying, “He told me I should be sick, and, by Allah! there was

no mistake about it.” Accordingly there was a great run upon the tartar

emetic. Many people in Debono’s camp had died, including several of my

deserters who had joined them. News was brought that, in three separate

fights with the natives, my deserters had been killed on every occasion,

and my men and those of Ibrahim unhesitatingly declared it was the “hand

of God.” None of Ibrahim’s men had died since we left Latooka. One man,

who had been badly wounded by a lance thrust through his abdomen, I

successfully treated; the trading party, who would at one time gladly

have exterminated me, now exclaimed, “What shall we do when the Sowar

(traveller) leaves the country?” Mrs. Baker had been exceedingly kind

to the women and children of both the traders and natives, and together

we had created so favourable an impression that we were always referred

to as umpires in every dispute. My own men, although indolent, were so

completely disciplined that they would not have dared to disobey an

order, and they looked back upon their former mutinous conduct with

surprise at their own audacity, and declared that they feared to return

to Khartoum, as they were sure that I should not forgive them.

I had promised Ibrahim that I would use my influence with the King of

Unyoro to procure him the ivory of that country;—I had a good supply

of beads, while Ibrahim had none; thus he was dependent upon me for

opening the road. Everything looked fair, and had I been strong and well

I should have enjoyed the future prospect; but I was weak and almost

useless, and weighed down with anxiety lest I might die and my wife

would be left alone.

The rains had ceased, and the wild grapes were ripe the natives brought

them in great quantities in exchange for a few beads. They were in

extremely large bunches, invariably black, and of a good size, but not

juicy—the flavour was good, and they were most refreshing, and

certainly benefited my health. I pressed about two hundred pounds of

grapes in the large sponging bath, but procured so little juice, and

that so thick, that winemaking proved a failure; it fermented, and we

drank it, but it was not wine. One day, hearing a great noise of voices

and blowing of horns in the direction of Katchiba’s residence, I sent to

inquire the cause. The old chief himself appeared very angry and

excited. He said, that his people were very bad, that they had been

making a great noise and finding fault with him because he had not

supplied them with a few showers, as they wanted to sow their crop of

tullaboon. There had been no rain for about a fortnight.

“Well,” I replied, “you are the rainmaker; why don’t you give your

people rain?” “Give my people rain!” said Katchiba. “I give them rain if

they don’t give me goats? You don’t know my people; if I am fool enough

to give them rain before they give me the goats, they would let me

starve! No, no! let them wait—if they don’t bring me supplies of corn,

goats, fowls, yams, merissa, and all that I require, not one drop of

rain shall ever fall again in Obbo! Impudent brutes are my people! Do

you know, they have positively threatened to kill me unless I bring the

rain? They shan’t have a drop; I will wither the crops, and bring a

plague upon their flocks. I’ll teach these rascals to insult me!”

With all this bluster, I saw that old Katchiba was in a great dilemma,

and that he would give anything for a shower, but that he did not know

how to get out of the scrape. It was a common freak of the tribes to

sacrifice the rainmaker, should he be unsuccessful. He suddenly altered

his tone, and asked, “Have you any rain in your country?” I replied that

we had, every now and then. “How do you bring it? Are you a rainmaker?”

I told him that no one believed in rainmakers in our country, but that

we understood how to bottle lightning (meaning electricity). “I don’t

keep mine in bottles, but I have a houseful of thunder and lightning,”

he most coolly replied; “but if you can bottle lightning you must

understand rainmaking.

“What do you think of the weather today?” I immediately saw the drift of

the cunning old Katchiba; he wanted professional advice. I replied,

that he must know all about it, as he was a regular rainmaker. “Of

course I do,” he answered, “but I want to know what YOU think of it.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t think we shall have any steady rain, but I

think we may have a heavy shower in about four days.” (I said this as I

had observed fleecy clouds gathering daily in the afternoon). “Just my

opinion!” said Katchiba, delighted; “in four or perhaps in five days I

intend to give them one shower; just one shower; yes, I’ll just step

down to them now, and tell the rascals, that if they will bring me some

goats by this evening, and some corn tomorrow morning, I will give them

in four or five days just one shower.” To give effect to his declaration

he gave several toots upon his magic whistle. “Do you use whistles in

your country?” inquired Katchiba. I only replied by giving so shrill and

deafening a whistle on my fingers that Katchiba stopped his ears; and

relapsing into a smile of admiration he took a glance at the sky from

the doorway to see if any sudden effect bad been produced. “Whistle

again,” he said; and once more I performed like the whistle of a

locomotive. “That will do, we shall have it,” said the cunning old

rainmaker; and proud of having so knowingly obtained “counsel’s opinion”

on his case, he toddled off to his impatient subjects.

In a few days a sudden storm of rain and violent thunder added to

Katchiba’s renown, and after the shower, horns were blowing and nogaras

were beating in honour of their chief. Entre nous, my whistle was

considered infallible.

The natives were busy sowing the new crop just as the last crop was

ripening. It did not appear likely that they would reap much for their

labour, as the elephants, having an accurate knowledge of the season,

visited their fields nightly, and devoured and trampled the greater

portion. I had been too ill to think of shooting, as there was no other

method than to watch in the tullaboon fields at night; the high grass in

which the elephants harboured being impenetrable. Feeling a little

better I took my men to the field about a mile from the village, and dug

a hole, in which I intended to watch.

That night I took Richarn, and we sat together in our narrow grave.

There was no sound throughout the night. I was well wrapped up in a

Scotch plaid, but an attack of ague came on, and I shivered as though in

Lapland. I had several rifles in the grave; among others the “Baby,”

that carried a half-pound explosive shell. At about 4 A.M. I heard the

distant trumpet of an elephant, and I immediately ordered Richarn to

watch, and to report to me their arrival. It was extremely dark, but

Richarn presently sank slowly down, and whispered, “Here they are!”

Taking the “Baby,” I quietly rose, and listening attentively, I could

distinctly hear the elephants tearing off the heads of the tullaboon,

and crunching the crisp grain. I could distinguish the dark forms of the

herd about thirty paces from me, but much too indistinct for a shot. I

stood with my elbows resting on the edge of the hole, and the heavy

rifle balanced, waiting for an opportunity. I had a papersight arranged

for night shooting, and I several times tried to get the line of an

elephant’s shoulder, but to no purpose; I could distinguish the sight

clearly, but not the elephant. As I was watching the herd I suddenly

heard a trumpet close to my left, and I perceived an elephant quickly

walking exactly towards my grave. I waited with the rifle at my shoulder

until he was within about twelve paces; I then whistled, and he stopped,

and turned quickly, exposing his side. Taking the line of the foreleg, I

fired at the shoulder. The tremendous