How I Found Livingstone, Henry M. Stanley [best fantasy books to read txt] 📗

four doti of cloth.

As I did not care to gratify my anger at such an expense, I was

compelled to swallow my wrath, and consequently the Wagogo

escaped chastisement.

 

We halted for one day at this place, which was a great relief to

me, as I was suffering severely from intermittent fever, which

lasted in this case two weeks, and entirely prevented my posting

my diary in full, as was my custom every evening after a march.

 

The Sultan of Bihawana, though his subjects were evil-disposed, and

ready-handed at theft and murder, contented himself with three doti

as honga. From this chief I received news of my fourth caravan,

which had distinguished itself in a fight with some outlawed

subjects of his; my soldiers had killed two who had attempted,

after waylaying a couple of my pagazis, to carry away a bale of

cloth and a bag of beads; coming up in time, the soldiers

decisively frustrated the attempt. The Sultan thought that if all

caravans were as well guarded as mine were, there would be less

depredations committed on them while on the road; with which I

heartily agreed.

 

The next sultan’s tembe through whose territory we marched, this

being on the 30th May, was at Kididimo, but four miles from Bihawna.

The road led through a flat elongated plain, lying between two

lengthy hilly ridges, thickly dotted with the giant forms of the

baobab. Kididimo is exceedingly bleak in aspect. Even the faces

of the Wagogo seemed to have contracted a bleak hue from the general

bleakness around. The water of the pits obtained in the

neighbourhood had an execrable flavor, and two donkeys sickened and

died in less than an hour from its effects. Man suffered nausea

and a general irritability of the system, and accordingly revenged

himself by cursing the country and its imbecile ruler most heartily.

The climax came, however, when Bombay reported, after an attempt to

settle the Muhongo, that the chief’s head had grown big since he

heard that the Musungu had come, and that its “bigness” could not

be reduced unless he could extract ten doti as tribute. Though

the demand was large, I was not in a humour—being feeble, and

almost nerveless, from repeated attacks of the Mukunguru—to

dispute the sum: consequently it was paid without many words.

But the Arabs continued the whole afternoon negotiating, and at

the end had to pay eight doti each.

 

Between Kididimo and Nyambwa, the district of the Sultan Pembera

Pereh, was a broad and lengthy forest and jungle inhabited by the

elephant, rhinoceros, zebra, deer, antelope, and giraffe. Starting

at dawn of the 31st; we entered the jungle, whose dark lines and

bosky banks were clearly visible from our bower at Kididimo;

and, travelling for two hours, halted for rest and breakfast, at

pools of sweet water surrounded by tracts of vivid green verdure,

which were a great resort for the wild animals of the jungle, whose

tracks were numerous and recent. A narrow nullah, shaded deeply

with foliage, afforded excellent retreats from the glaring

sunshine. At meridian, our thirst quenched, our hunger satisfied,

our gourds refilled, we set out from the shade into the heated blaze

of hot noon. The path serpentined in and out of jungle, and thin

forest, into open tracts of grass bleached white as stubble, into

thickets of gums and thorns, which emitted an odour as rank as a

stable; through clumps of wide-spreading mimosa and colonies of

baobab, through a country teeming with noble game, which, though we

saw them frequently, were yet as safe from our rifles as if we had

been on the Indian Ocean. A terekeza, such as we were now making,

admits of no delay. Water we had left behind at noon: until noon

of the next day not a drop was to be obtained; and unless we

marched fast and long on this day, raging thirst would demoralize

everybody. So for six long weary hours we toiled bravely; and at

sunset we camped, and still a march of two hours, to be done before

the sun was an hour high, intervened between us and our camp at

Nyambwa. That night the men bivouacked under the trees, surrounded

by many miles of dense forest, enjoying the cool night unprotected

by hat or tent, while I groaned and tossed throughout the night in

a paroxysm of fever.

 

The morn came; and, while it was yet young, the long caravan, or

string of caravans, was under way. It was the same forest,

admitting, on the narrow line which we threaded, but one man at a

time. Its view was as limited. To our right and left the forest

was dark and deep. Above was a riband of glassy sky flecked by

the floating nimbus. We heard nothing save a few stray notes from

a flying bird, or the din of the caravans as the men sang, or

hummed, or conversed, or shouted, as the thought struck them that

we were nearing water. One of my pagazis, wearied and sick, fell,

and never rose again. The last of the caravan passed him before

he died.

 

At 7 A.M. we were encamped at Nyambwa, drinking the excellent

water found here with the avidity of thirsty camels. Extensive

fields of grain had heralded the neighbourhood of the villages,

at the sight of which we were conscious that the caravan was

quickening its pace, as approaching its halting-place. As the

Wasungu drew within the populated area, crowds of Wagogo used their

utmost haste to see them before they passed by. Young and old of

both genders pressed about us in a multitude—a very howling mob.

This excessive demonstrativeness elicited from my sailor overseer

the characteristic remark, ” Well, I declare, these must be the

genuine Ugogians, for they stare! stare—there is no end to their

staring. I’m almost tempted to slap ‘em in the face!” In fact,

the conduct of the Wagogo of Nyambwa was an exaggeration of the

general conduct of Wagogo. Hitherto, those we had met had

contented themselves with staring and shouting; but these outstepped

all bounds, and my growing anger at their excessive insolence

vented itself in gripping the rowdiest of them by the neck, and

before he could recover from his astonishment administering a sound

thrashing with my dog-whip, which he little relished. This

proceeding educed from the tribe of starers all their native power

of vituperation and abuse, in expressing which they were peculiar.

Approaching in manner to angry tom-cats, they jerked their words

with something of a splitting hiss and a half bark. The ejaculation,

as near as I can spell it phonetically, was “hahcht” uttered in a

shrill crescendo tone. They paced backwards and forwards, asking

themselves, “Are the Wagoga to be beaten like slaves by this Musungu?

A Mgogo is a Mgwana (a free man); he is not used to be beaten,—

hahcht.” But whenever I made motion, flourishing my whip,

towards them, these mighty braggarts found it convenient to move

to respectable distances from the irritated Musungu.

 

Perceiving that a little manliness and show of power was something

which the Wagogo long needed, and that in this instance it relieved

me from annoyance, I had recourse to my whip, whose long lash

cracked like a pistol shot, whenever they overstepped moderation.

So long as they continued to confine their obtrusiveness to

staring, and communicating to each other their opinions respecting

my complexion, and dress, and accoutrements, I philosophically

resigned myself in silence for their amusement; but when they

pressed on me, barely allowing me to proceed, a few vigorous and

rapid slashes right and left with my serviceable thong, soon

cleared the track.

 

Pembera Pereh is a queer old man, very small, and would be very

insignificant were he not the greatest sultan in Ugogo; and

enjoying a sort of dimediate power over many other tribes.

Though such an important chief, he is the meanest dressed of

his subjects,—is always filthy,—ever greasy—eternally foul

about the mouth; but these are mere eccentricities: as a wise

judge, he is without parallel, always has a dodge ever ready for

the abstraction of cloth from the spiritless Arab merchants, who

trade with Unyanyembe every year; and disposes with ease of a

judicial case which would overtask ordinary men.

 

Sheikh Hamed, who was elected guider of the united caravans now

travelling through Ugogo, was of such a fragile and small make,

that he might be taken for an imitation of his famous prototype

“Dapper.” Being of such dimensions, what he lacked for weight

and size he made up by activity. No sooner had he arrived in

camp than his trim dapper form was seen frisking about from side

to side of the great boma, fidgeting, arranging, disturbing

everything and everybody. He permitted no bales or packs to be

intermingled, or to come into too close proximity to his own;

he had a favourite mode of stacking his goods, which he would

see carried out; he had a special eye for the best place for

his tent, and no one else must trespass on that ground. One

would imagine that walking ten or fifteen miles a day, he would

leave such trivialities to his servants, but no, nothing could

be right unless he had personally superintended it; in which

work he was tireless and knew no fatigue.

 

Another not uncommon peculiarity pertained to Sheikh Hamed; as

he was not a rich man, he laboured hard to make the most of every

shukka and doti expended, and each fresh expenditure seemed to

gnaw his very vitals: he was ready to weep, as he himself

expressed it, at the high prices of Ugogo, and the extortionate

demands of its sultans. For this reason, being the leader of

the caravans, so far as he was able we were very sure not to

be delayed in Ugogo, where food was so dear.

 

The day we arrived at Nyambwa will be remembered by Hamed as long

as he lives, for the trouble and vexation which he suffered. His

misfortunes arose from the fact that, being too busily engaged in

fidgeting about the camp, he permitted his donkeys to stray into

the matama fields of Pembera Pereh, the Sultan. For hours he and

his servants sought for the stray donkeys, returning towards

evening utterly unsuccessful, Hamed bewailing, as only an

Oriental can do, when hard fate visits him with its inflictions,

the loss of a hundred do dollars worth of Muscat donkeys.

Sheikh Thani, older, more experienced, and wiser, suggested to

him that he should notify the Sultan of his loss. Acting upon

the sagacious advice, Hamed sent an embassy of two slaves, and

the information they brought back was, that Pembera Pereh’s

servants had found the two donkeys eating the unripened matama,

and that unless the Arab who owned them would pay nine doti of

first-class cloths, he, Pembera Pereh, would surely keep them

to remunerate him for the matama they had eaten. Hamed was

in despair. Nine doti of first-class cloths, worth $25 in

Unyanyembe, for half a chukka’s worth of grain, was, as he thought,

an absurd demand; but then if he did not pay it, what would

become of the hundred dollars’ worth of donkeys? He proceeded to

the Sultan to show him the absurdity of the damage claim, and to

endeavour to make him accept one chukka, which would be more than

double the worth of what grain the donkeys had consumed. But the

Sultan was sitting on pombe; he was drunk, which I believe to be

his normal state—too drunk to attend to business, consequently his

deputy, a renegade Mnyamwezi, gave ear to the business. With most

of the Wagogo chiefs lives a Mnyamwezi, as their right-hand man,

prime minister, counsellor, executioner, ready man at all things

save the general good; a sort of harlequin Unyamwezi, who is such

an intriguing, restless, unsatisfied person,