The Land of Footprints
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Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints
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He crouched near a bush forty yards away, and was switching his
tail. I had heard that this was a sure premonition of an instant
charge, but I had not before realized exactly what "switching the
tail" meant. I had thought of it as a slow sweeping from side to
side, after the manner of the domestic cat. This lion's tail was
whirling perpendicularly from right to left, and from left to
right with the speed and energy of a flail actuated by a
particularly instantaneous kind of machinery. I could see only
the outline of the head and this vigorous tail; but I took
instant aim and let drive. The whole affair sank out of sight.
We made a detour around the dead lion without stopping to examine
him, shouting to one of the men to stay and watch the carcass.
Billy alone seemed uninfected with the now prevalent idea that we
were likely to find lions almost anywhere. Her skepticism was
justified. We found no more lions; but another miracle took place
for all that. We ran across the second imbecile gerenuk, and B.
collected it! These two were the only ones we ever got within
decent shot of, and they sandwiched themselves neatly with lions.
Truly, it WAS our day.
After a time we gave it up, and went back to measure and
photograph our latest prize. It proved to be a male, maneless,
two inches shorter than that killed by B., and three feet five
and one half inches tall at the shoulder. My bullet had reached
the brain just over the left eye.
Now, toward sunset, we headed definitely toward camp. The long
shadows and beautiful lights of evening were falling across the
hills far the other side the Isiola. A little breeze with a touch
of coolness breathed down from distant unseen Kenia. We plodded
on through the grass quite happily, noting the different animals
coming out to the cool of the evening. The line of brush that
marked the course of the Isiola came imperceptibly nearer until
we could make out the white gleam of the porters' tents and wisps
of smoke curling upward.
Then a small black mass disengaged itself from the camp and came
slowly across the prairie in our direction. As it approached we
made it out to be our Monumwezis, twenty strong. The news of the
lions had reached them, and they were coming to meet us. They
were huddled in a close knot, their heads inclined toward the
centre. Each man carried upright a peeled white wand. They moved
in absolute unison and rhythm, on a slanting zigzag in our
direction: first three steps to the right, then three to the
left, with a strong stamp of the foot between. Their bodies
swayed together. Sulimani led them, dancing backward, his wand
upheld.
"Sheeka!" he enunciated in a piercing half whistle.
And the swaying men responded in chorus, half hushed, rumbling,
with strong aspiration.
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
When fifty yards from us, however, the formation broke and they
rushed us with a yell. Our horses plunged in astonishment, and we
had hard work to prevent their bolting, small blame to 'em! The
men surrounded us, shaking our hands frantically. At once they
appropriated everything we or our gunbearers carried. One who got
left otherwise insisted on having Billy's parasol. Then we all
broke for camp at full speed, yelling like fiends, firing our
revolvers in the air. It was a grand entry, and a grand
reception. The rest of the camp poured out with wild shouts. The
dark forms thronged about us, teeth flashing, arms waving. And in
the background, under the shadows of the trees were the
Monumwezis, their formation regained, close gathered, heads bent,
two steps swaying to the right-stamp! two steps swaying to the
left-stamp!-the white wands gleaming, and the rumble of their
lion song rolling in an undertone:
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
XV. THE LION DANCE
We took our hot baths and sat down to supper most gratefully, for
we were tired. The long string of men, bearing each a log of
wood, filed in from the darkness to add to our pile of fuel.
Saa-sita and Shamba knelt and built the night fire. In a moment
the little flame licked up through the carefully arranged
structure. We finished the meal, and the boys whisked away the
table.
Then out in the blackness beyond our little globe of light we
became aware of a dull confusion, a rustling to and fro. Through
the shadows the eye could guess at movement. The confusion
steadied to a kind of rhythm, and into the circle of the fire
came the group of Monumwezis. Again they were gathered together
in a compact little mass; but now they were bent nearly double,
and were stripped to the red blankets about their waists. Before
them writhed Sulimani, close to earth, darting irregularly now to
right, now to left, wriggling, spreading his arms abroad. He was
repeating over and over two phrases; or rather the same phrase
in two such different intonations that they seemed to convey
quite separate meanings.
"Ka soompeele?" he cried with a strongly appealing interrogation.
"Ka soompeele!" he repeated with the downward inflection of
decided affirmation.
And the bent men, their dark bodies gleaming in the firelight,
stamping in rhythm every third step, chorused in a deep rumbling
bass:
"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"
Thus they advanced; circled between us and the fire, and withdrew
to the half darkness, where tirelessly they continued the same
reiterations.
Hardly had they withdrawn when another group danced forward in
their places. These were the Kikuyus. They had discarded
completely their safari clothes, and now came forth dressed out
in skins, in strips of white cloth, with feathers, shells and
various ornaments. They carried white wands to represent spears,
and they sang their tribal lion song. A soloist delivered the
main argument in a high wavering minor and was followed by a deep
rumbling emphatic chorus of repetition, strongly accented so that
the sheer rhythm of it was most pronounced:
"An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga Ki ya Ka ga Ka
ga an gee ya!"
Solemnly and loftily, their eyes fixed straight before them they
made the circle of the fire, passed before our chairs, and
withdrew to the half light. There, a few paces from the stamping,
crouching Monumwezis, they continued their performance.
The next to appear were the Wakambas. These were more
histrionic. They too were unrecognizable as our porters, for they
too had for the lion discarded their work-a-day garments in
favour of savage. They produced a pantomime of the day's doings,
very realistic indeed, ending with a half dozen of dark swaying
bodies swinging and shuddering in the long grass as lions, while
the "horses" wove in and out among the crouching forms, all done
to the beat of rhythm. Past us swept the hunt, and in its turn
melted into the half light.
The Kavirondos next appeared, the most fantastically caparisoned
of the lot, fine big black men, their eyes rolling with
excitement. They had captured our flag from its place before the
big tent, and were rallied close about this, dancing
fantastically. Before us they leaped and stamped and shook their
spears and shouted out their full-voiced song, while the other
three tribes danced each its specialty dimly in the background.
The dance thus begun lasted for fully two hours. Each tribe took a
turn before us, only to give way to the next. We had leisure to
notice minutiae, such as the ingenious tail one of the "lions"
had constructed from a sweater. As time went on, the men worked
themselves to a frenzy. From the serried ranks every once in a
while one would break forth with a shriek to rush headlong into
the fire, to beat the earth about him with his club, to rush over
to shake one of us violently by the hand, or even to seize one of
our feet between his two palms. Then with equal abruptness back
he darted to regain his place among the dancers. Wilder and
wilder became the movements, higher rose the voices. The mock
lion hunt grew more realistic, and the slaughter on both sides
something tremendous. Lower and lower crouched the Monumwezi,
drawing apart with their deep "goom"; drawing suddenly to a
common centre with the sharp "zoop!" Only the Kikuyus held their
lofty bearing as they rolled forth their chant, but the mounting
excitement showed in their tense muscles and the rolling of their
eyes. The sweat glistened on naked black and bronze bodies. Among
the Monumwezi to my astonishment I saw Memba Sasa, stripped like
the rest, and dancing with all abandon. The firelight leaped high
among the logs that eager hands cast on it; and the shadows it
threw from the swirling, leaping figures wavered out into a
great, calm darkness.
The night guard understood a little of the native languages, so
he stood behind our chairs and told us in Swahili the meaning of
some of the repeated phrases.
"This has been a glorious day; few safaris have had so glorious a
day."
"The masters looked upon the fierce lions and did not run away."
"Brave men without other weapons will nevertheless kill with a
knife."
"The masters' mothers must be brave women, the masters are so
brave."
"The white woman went hunting, and so were many lions killed."
The last one pleased Billy. She felt that at last she was
appreciated.
We sat there spellbound by the weird savagery of the
spectacle-the great licking fire, the dancing, barbaric figures,
the rise and fall of the rhythm, the dust and shuffle, the ebb
and flow of the dance, the dim, half-guessed groups swaying in
the darkness-and overhead the calm tropic night.
At last, fairly exhausted, they stopped. Some one gave a signal.
The men all gathered in one group, uttered a final yell, very
like a cheer, and dispersed.
We called up the heroes of the day-Fundi and his companion-and
made a little speech, and bestowed appropriate reward. Then we
turned in.
XVI. FUNDI
Fundi, as I have suggested, was built very much on the lines of
the marabout stork. He was about twenty years old, carried
himself very erect, and looked one straight in the eye. His total
assets when he came to us were a pair of raggedy white breeches,
very baggy, and an old mesh undershirt, ditto ditto. To this we
added a jersey, a red blanket, and a water bottle. At the first
opportunity he constructed himself a pair of rawhide sandals.
Throughout the first part of the trip he had applied himself to
business and carried his load. He never made trouble. Then he and
his companion saw five lions; and the chance Fundi had evidently
long been awaiting came to his hand. He ran himself almost into
coma, exhibited himself game, and so fell under our especial and
distinguished notice. After participating whole-heartedly in the
lion dance he and his companion were singled out for Our
Distinguished Favour, to the extent of five rupees per. Thus far
Fundi's history reads just like the history of any ordinary
Captain of Industry.
Next morning, after the interesting ceremony of rewarding the
worthy, we moved on to a new camp. When the line-up was called
for, lo! there stood Fundi, without a load, but holding firmly my
double-barrelled rifle. Evidently he had seized the chance of
favour-and the rifle-and intended to be no longer a porter but
a second gunbearer.
This looked interesting, so we said nothing. Fundi marched the
day through very proudly. At evening he deposited the rifle in
the proper place, and set to work with a will at raising the big
tent.
The day following he tried it again. It worked. The third day he
marched deliberately up past the syce to take his place near me.
And the fourth day, as we were going hunting, Fundi calmly fell
in with the rest. Nothing had been said, but Fundi had definitely
grasped his chance to rise from the ranks. In this he differed
from his companion in glory. That worthy citizen pocketed his five
rupees and was never heard from again; I do not even remember his
name nor how he looked.
I killed a buck of some sort, and Memba Sasa, as usual, stepped
forward to attend to the trophy. But I stopped him.
"Fundi," said I, "if you are a gunbearer, prepare this beast."
He stepped up confidently and set to work. I watched him closely.
He did it very well, without awkwardness, though he made one or
two minor mistakes in method.
"Have you done this before?" I inquired.
"No, bwana."
"How did you learn to do it?"
"I have watched the gunbearers when I was a porter bringing in
meat."*
*Except in the greatest emergencies a gunbearer would never
think of carrying any sort of a burden.
This was pleasing, but it would never do, at this stage of the
game, to let him think so, neither on his own account nor that of
the real gunbearers.
"You will bring in meat today also," said I, for I was indeed a
little shorthanded, "and you will learn how to make the top
incision straighter."
When we had reached camp I handed him the Springfield.
"Clean this," I told him.
He departed with it, returning it after a time for my inspection.
It looked all right. I catechized him on the method he had
employed-for high velocities require very especial
treatment-and found him letter perfect.
"You learned this also by watching?"
"Yes, bwana, I watched the gunbearers by the fire, evenings."
Evidently Fundi had been preparing for his chance.
Next day, as he walked alongside, I noticed that he had not
removed the leather cap, or sight protector, that covers the end
of the rifle and is fastened on by a leather thong. Immediately I
called a halt.
"Fundi," said I, "do you know that the cover should be in your
pocket? Suppose a rhinoceros jumps up very near at hand: how can
you get time to unlace the thong and hand me the rifle?"
He thrust the rifle at me suddenly. In some magical fashion the
sight cover had disappeared!
"I have thought of this," said he, "and I have tied the thong,
so, in order that it come away with one pull; and I snatch it
off, so, with my left hand while I am giving you the gun with my
right hand. It seemed good to keep the cover on, for there are
many branches, and the sight is very easy to injure."
Of course this was good sense, and most ingenious; Fundi bade
fair to be quite a boy, but the native African is very easily
spoiled. Therefore, although my inclination was strongly to
praise him, I did nothing of the sort.
"A gunbearer carries the gun away from the branches," was my only
comment.
Shortly after occurred an incident by way of deeper test. We were
all riding rather idly along the easy slope below the foothills.
The grass was short, so we thought we could see easily everything
there was to be seen; but, as we passed some thirty yards from a
small tree, an unexpected and unnecessary rhinoceros rose from an
equally unexpected and unnecessary green hollow beneath the tree,
and charged us. He made straight for Billy. Her mule,
panic-stricken, froze with terror in spite of Billy's attack with
a parasol. I spurred my own animal between her and the charging
brute, with some vague idea of slipping off the other side as the
rhino struck. F. and B. leaped from their own animals, and F.,
with a little .28 calibre rifle, took a hasty shot at the big
brute. Now, of course a .28 calibre rifle would hardly injure a
rhino, but the bullet happened to catch his right shoulder just
as he was about to come down on his right foot. The shock tripped
him up as neatly as though he had been upset by a rope. At the
same instant Billy's mule came to its senses and bolted,
whereupon I too jumped off. The whole thing took about two finger
snaps of time. At the instant I hit the ground, Fundi passed the
double rifle across the horse's back to me.
Note two things to the credit of Fundi: in the first place, he
had not bolted; in the second place, instead of running up to the
left side of my mount and perhaps colliding with and certainly
confusing me, he had come up on the right side and passed the
rifle to me ACROSS the horse. I do not know whether or not he had
figured this out beforehand, but it was cleverly done.
The rhinoceros rolled over and over, like a shot rabbit, kicked
for a moment, and came to his feet. We were now all ready for
him, in battle array, but he had evidently had enough. He turned
at right angles and trotted off, apparently-and probably-none
the worse for the little bullet in his shoulder.
Fundi now began acquiring things that he supposed befitting to
his dignity. The first of these matters was a faded fez, in which
he stuck a long feather. From that he progressed in worldly
wealth. How he got it all, on what credit, or with what hypnotic
power, I do not know. Probably he hypothecated his wages,
certainly he had his five rupees.
At any rate he started out with a ragged undershirt and a pair of
white, baggy breeches. He entered Nairobi at the end of the trip
with a cap, a neat khaki shirt, two water bottles, a cartridge
belt, a sash with a tasseI, a pair of spiral puttees, an old pair
of shoes, and a personal private small boy, picked up en route
from some of the savage tribes, to carry his cooking pot, make
his fires, draw his water, and generally perform his lordly
behests. This was indeed "more-than-oriental-splendour!"
>From now on Fundi considered himself my second gunbearer. I had
no use for him, but Fundi's development interested me, and I
wanted to give him a chance. His main fault at first was
eagerness. He had to be rapped pretty sharply and a good number
of times before he discovered that he really must walk in the
rear. His habit of calling my attention to perfectly obvious
things I cured by liberal sarcasm. His intense desire to take his
own line as perhaps opposed to mine when we were casting about on
trail, I abated kindly but firmly with the toe of my boot. His
evident but mistaken tendency to consider himself on an equality
with Memba Sasa we both squelched by giving him the hard and
dirty work to do. But his faults were never those of voluntary
omission, and he came on surprisingly; in fact so surprisingly
that he began to get quite cocky over it. Not that he was ever in
the least aggressive or disrespectful or neglectful-it would
have been easy to deal with that sort of thing-but he carried
his head pretty high, and evidently began to have mental
reservations. Fundi needed a little wholesome discipline. He was
forgetting his porter days, and was rapidly coming to consider
himself a full-fledged gunbearer.
The occasion soon arose. We were returning from a buffalo hunt
and ran across two rhinoceroses, one of which carried a splendid
horn. B. wanted a well developed specimen very much, so we took
this chance. The approach was easy enough, and at seventy yards
or so B. knocked her flat with a bullet from his .465 Holland.
The beast was immediately afoot, but was as promptly smothered by
shots from us all. So far the affair was very simple, but now
came complication. The second rhinoceros refused to leave. We did
not want to kill it, so we spent a lot of time and pains shooing
it away. We showered rocks and clods of earth in his direction;
we yelled sharply and whistled shrilly. The brute faced here and
there, his pig eyes blinking, his snout upraised, trying to
locate us, and declining to budge. At length he gave us up as
hopeless, and trotted away slowly. We let him go, and when we
thought he had quite departed, we approached to examine B.'s
trophy.
Whereupon the other craftily returned; and charged us, snorting
like an engine blowing off steam. This was a genuine premeditated
charge, as opposed to a blind rush, and it is offered as a good
example of the sort.
The rhinoceros had come fairly close before we got into action.
He headed straight for F. and myself, with B. a little to one
side. Things happened very quickly. F. and I each planted a heavy
bullet in his head; while B. sent a lighter Winchester bullet
into the ribs. The rhino went down in a heap eleven yards away,
and one of us promptly shot him in the spine to finish him.
Personally I was entirely concentrated in the matter at hand-as
is always the way in crises requiring action-and got very few
impressions from anything outside. Nevertheless I imagined,
subconsciously that I had heard four shots. F. and B. disclaimed
more than one apiece, so I concluded myself mistaken, exchanged
my heavy rifle with Fundi for the lighter Winchester, and we
started for camp, leaving all the boys to attend to the dead
rhinos. At camp I threw down the lever of my Winchester-and drew
out an exploded shell!
Here was a double crime on Fundi's part. In the first place, he
had fired the gun, a thing no bearer is supposed ever to do in
any circumstances short of the disarmament and actual mauling of
his master. Naturally this is so, for the white man must be able
in an emergency to depend ABSOLUTELY on his second gun being
loaded and ready for his need. In the second place, Fundi had
given me an empty rifle to carry home. Such a weapon is worse
than none in case of trouble; at least I could have gone up a
tree in the latter case. I would have looked sweet snapping that
old cartridge at anything dangerous!
Therefore after supper we stationed ourselves in a row before the
fire, seated in our canvas chairs, and with due formality sent
word that we wanted all the gunbearers. They came and stood
before us. Memba Sasa erect, military, compact, looking us
straight in the eye; Mavrouki slightly bent forward, his face
alive with the little crafty, calculating smile peculiar to him;
Simba, tall and suave, standing with much social ease; and Fundi,
a trifle frightened, but uncertain as to whether or not he had
been found out.
We stated the matter in a few words.
"Gunbearers, this man Fundi, when the rhinoceros charged, fired
Winchi. Was this the work of a gunbearer?"
The three seasoned men looked at each other with shocked
astonishment that such depravity could exist.
"And being frightened, he gave back Winchi with the exploded
cartridge in her. Was that the work of a gunbearer?"
"No, bwana," said Fundi humbly.
"You, the gunbearers, have been called because we wish to know
what should be done with this man Fundi."
It should be here explained that it is not customary to kiboko,
or flog, men of the gunbearer class. They respect themselves and
their calling, and would never stand that sort of punishment.
When one blunders, a sarcastic scolding is generally sufficient;
a more serious fault may be punished on the spot by the white
man's fist; or a really bad dereliction may cause the man's
instant degradation from the post. With this in mind we had
called the council of gunbearers. Memba Sasa spoke.
"Bwana," said he, "this man is not a true gunbearer. He is no
longer a true porter. He carries a gun in the field, like a
gunbearer; and he knows much of the duty of gunbearer. Also he
does not run away nor climb trees. But he carries in the meat;
and he is not a real gunbearer. He is half porter and half
gunbearer."
"What punishment shall he have?"
"Kiboko," said they.
"Thank you. Bass!"
They went, leaving Fundi. We surveyed him, quietly.
"You a gunbearer!" said we at last. "Memba Sasa says you are half
gunbearer. He was wrong. You are all porter; and you know no more
than they do. It is in our mind to put you back to carrying a
load. If you do not wish to taste the kiboko, you can take a load
to-morrow."
"The kiboko, bwana," pleaded Fundi, very abashed and humble.
"Furthermore," we added crushingly, "you did not even hit the
rhinoceros!"
So with all ceremony he got the kiboko. The incident did him a
lot of good, and toned down his exuberance somewhat. Nevertheless
he still required a good deal of training, just as does a
promising bird dog in its first season. Generally his faults were
of over-eagerness. Indeed, once he got me thoroughly angry in
face of another rhinoceros by dancing just out of reach with the
heavy rifle, instead of sticking close to me where I could get at
him. I temporarily forgot the rhino, and advanced on Fundi with
the full intention of knocking his fool head off. Whereupon this
six feet something of most superb and insolent pride wilted down
to a small boy with his elbow before his face.
"Don't hit, bwana! Don't hit!" he begged.
The whole thing was so comical, especially with Memba Sasa
standing by virtuous and scornful, that I had hard work to keep
from laughing. Fortunately the rhinoceros behaved himself.
The proud moment of Fundi's life was when safari entered Nairobi
at the end of the first expedition. He had gone forth with a load
on his head, rags on his back, and his only glory was the
self-assumed one of the name he had taken-Fundi, the Expert. He
returned carrying a rifle, rigged from top to toe in new garments
and fancy accoutrements, followed by a toro, or small boy, he had
bought from some of the savage tribes to carry his blanket and
cooking pot for him. To the friends who darted out to the line of
march, he was gracious, but he held his head high, and had no
time for mere persiflage.
I did not take Fundi on my second expedition, for I had no real
use for a second gunbearer. Several times subsequently I saw him
on the streets of Nairobi. Always he came up to greet me, and ask
solicitously if I would not give him a job. This I was unable to
do. When we paid off, I had made an addition to his porter's
wages, and had written him a chit. This said that the boy had the
makings of a gunbearer with further training. It would have been
unfair to possible white employers to have said more. Fundi was,
when I left the country, precisely in the position of any young
man who tries to rise in the world. He would not again take a
load as porter, and he was not yet skilled enough or known enough
to pick up more than stray jobs as gunbearer. Before him was
struggle and hard times, with a certainty of a highly considered
profession if he won through. Behind him was steady work without
outlets for ambition. It was distinctly up to him to prove
whether he had done well to reach for ambition, or whether he
would have done better in contentment with his old lot. And that
is in essence a good deal like our own world isn't it?
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