The Land of Footprints
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Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints
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XVII. NATIVES
Up to this time, save for a few Masai at the very beginning of
our trip, we had seen no natives at all. Only lately, the night
of the lion dance, one of the Wanderobo-the forest hunters-had
drifted in to tell us of buffalo and to get some meat. He was a
simple soul, small and capable, of a beautiful red-brown, with
his hair done up in a tight, short queue. He wore three skewers
about six inches long thrust through each of his ears, three
strings of blue beads on his neck, a bracelet tight around his
upper arm, a bangle around his ankle, a pair of rawhide sandals,
and about a half yard of cotton cloth which he hung from one
shoulder. As weapons he carried a round-headed, heavy club, or
runga, and a long-bladed spear. He led us to buffalo, accepted a
thirty-three cent blanket, and made fire with two sticks in about
thirty seconds. The only other evidences of human life we had
come across were a few beehives suspended in the trees. These
were logs, bored hollow and stopped at either end. Some of them
were very quaintly carved. They hung in the trees like strange
fruits.
Now, however, after leaving the Isiola, we were to quit the game
country and for days travel among the swarming millions of the
jungle.
A few preliminary and entirely random observations may be
permitted me by way of clearing the ground for a conception of
these people. These observations do not pretend to be
ethnological, nor even common logical.
The first thing for an American to realize is that our own negro
population came mainly from the West Coast, and differed utterly
from these peoples of the highlands in the East. Therefore one
must first of all get rid of the mental image of our own negro
"dressed up" in savage garb. Many of these tribes are not negro
at all-the Somalis, the Nandi, and the Masai, for example-while
others belong to the negroid and Nilotic races. Their colour is
general cast more on the red-bronze than the black, though the
Kavirondos and some others are black enough. The texture of their
skin is very satiny and wonderful. This perfection is probably
due to the constant anointing of the body with oils of various
sorts. As a usual thing they are a fine lot physically. The
southern Masai will average between six and seven feet in height,
and are almost invariably well built. Of most tribes the physical
development is remarkably strong and graceful; and a great many
of the women will display a rounded, firm, high-breasted physique
in marked contrast to the blacks of the lowlands. Of the
different tribes possibly the Kikuyus are apt to count the most
weakly and spindly examples: though some of these people, perhaps
a majority, are well made.
Furthermore, the native differentiates himself still further in
impression from our negro in his carriage and the mental attitude
that lies behind it. Our people are trying to pattern themselves
on white men, and succeed in giving a more or less shambling
imitation thereof. The native has standards, ideas, and ideals
that perfectly satisfy him, and that antedated the white man's
coming by thousands of years. The consciousness of this reflects
itself in his outward bearing. He does not shuffle; he is not
either obsequious or impudent. Even when he acknowledges the
white man's divinity and pays it appropriate respect, he does not
lose the poise of his own well-worked-out attitude toward life
and toward himself.
We are fond of calling these people primitive. In the world's
standard of measurement they are primitive, very primitive
indeed. But ordinarily by that term, we mean also undeveloped,
embryonic. In that sense we are wrong. Instead of being at the
very dawn of human development, these people are at the end-as
far as they themselves are concerned. The original racial impulse
that started them down the years toward development has fulfilled
its duty and spent its force. They have worked out all their
problems, established all their customs, arranged the world and
its phenomena in a philosophy to their complete satisfaction.
They have lived, ethnologists tell us, for thousands, perhaps
hundreds of thousands of years, just as we find them to-day. From
our standpoint that is in a hopeless intellectual darkness, for
they know absolutely nothing of the most elementary subjects of
knowledge. From their standpoint, however, they have reached the
highest DESIRABLE pinnacle of human development. Nothing remains
to be changed. Their customs, religions, and duties have been
worked out and immutably established long ago; and nobody dreams
of questioning either their wisdom or their imperative necessity.
They are the conservatives of the world.
Nor must we conclude-looking at them with the eyes of our own
civilization-that the savage is, from his standpoint, lazy and
idle. His life is laid out more rigidly than ours will be for a
great many thousands of years. From childhood to old age he
performs his every act in accord with prohibitions and
requirements. He must remember them all; for ignorance does not
divert consequences. He must observe them all; in pain of
terrible punishments. For example, never may he cultivate on the
site of a grave; and the plants that spring up from it must never
be cut.* He must make certain complicated offerings before
venturing to harvest a crop. On crossing the first stream of a
journey he must touch his lips with the end of his wetted bow,
wade across, drop a stone on the far side, and then drink. If he
cuts his nails, he must throw the parings into a thicket. If he
drink from a stream, and also cross it, he must eject a mouthful
of water back into the stream. He must be particularly careful
not to look his mother-in-law in the face. Hundreds of omens by
the manner of their happening may modify actions, as, on what
side of the road a woodpecker calls, or in which direction a hyena
or jackal crosses the path, how the ground hornbill flies or
alights, and the like. He must notice these things, and change
his plans according to their occurrence. If he does not notice
them, they exercise their influence just the same. This does not
encourage a distrait mental attitude. Also it goes far to explain
otherwise unexplainable visitations. Truly, as Hobley says in his
unexcelled work on the A-Kamba, "the life of a savage native is a
complex matter, and he is hedged round by all sorts of rules and
prohibitions, the infringement of which will probably cause his
death, if only by the intense belief he has in the rules which
guide his life."
*Customs are not universal among the different tribes. I am
merely illustrating.
For these rules and customs he never attempts to give a reason.
They are; and that is all there is to it. A mere statement: "This
is the custom" settles the matter finally. There is no necessity,
nor passing thought even, of finding any logical cause. The
matter was worked out in the mental evolution of remote
ancestors. At that time, perhaps, insurgent and Standpatter,
Conservative and Radical fought out the questions of the day, and
the Muckrakers swung by their tails and chattered about it.
Those days are all long since over. The questions of the world
are settled forever. The people have passed through the struggles
of their formative period to the ultimate highest perfection of
adjustment to material and spiritual environment of which they
were capable under the influence of their original racial force.
Parenthetically, it is now a question whether or not an added
impulse can be communicated from without. Such an impulse must
(a) unsettle all the old beliefs, (b) inspire an era of
skepticism, (c) reintroduce the old struggle of ideas between the
Insurgent and the Standpatter, and Radical and the Conservative,
(d) in the meantime furnish, from the older civilization,
materials, both in the thought-world and in the object-world, for
building slowly a new set of customs more closely approximating
those we are building for ourselves. This is a longer and slower
and more complicated affair than teaching the native to wear
clothes and sing hymns; or to build houses and drink gin; but it
is what must be accomplished step by step before the African
peoples are really civilized. I, personally, do not think it can
be done.
Now having, a hundred thousand years or so ago, worked out the
highest good of the human race, according to them, what must they
say to themselves and what must their attitude be when the white
man has come and has unrolled his carpet of wonderful tricks? The
dilemma is evident. Either we, as black men, must admit that our
hundred-thousand-year-old ideas as to what constitutes the
highest type of human relation to environment is all wrong, or
else we must evolve a new attitude toward this new phenomena. It
is human nature to do the latter. Therefore the native has not
abandoned his old gods; nor has he adopted a new. He still
believes firmly that his way is the best way of doing things, but
he acknowledges the Superman.
To the Superman, with all races, anything is possible. Only our
Superman is an idea, and ideal. The native has his Superman
before him in the actual flesh.
We will suppose that our own Superman has appeared among us,
accomplishing things that apparantly contravene all our
established tenets of skill, of intellect, of possibility. It
will be readily acknowledged that such an individual would at
first create some astonishment. He wanders into a crowded hotel
lobby, let us say, evidently with the desire of going to the bar.
Instead of pushing laboriously through the crowd, he floats just
above their heads, gets his drink, and floats out again! That is
levitation, and is probably just as simple to him as striking a
match is to you and me. After we get thoroughly accustomed to him
and his life, we are no longer vastly astonished, though always
interested, at the various manifestations of his extraordinary
powers. We go right along using the marvellous wireless,
aeroplanes, motor cars, constructive machinery, and the like that
make us confident-justly, of course-in that we are about the
smartest lot of people on earth. And if we see red, white, and
blue streamers of light crossing the zenith at noon, we do not
manifest any very profound amazement. "There's that confounded
Superman again," we mutter, if we happen to be busy. "I wonder
what stunt he's going to do now!"
A consideration of the above beautiful fable may go a little way
toward explaining the supposed native stolidity in the face of
the white man's wonders. A few years ago some misguided person
brought a balloon to Nairobi. The balloon interested the white
people a lot, but everybody was chiefly occupied wondering what
the natives would do when they saw THAT! The natives did not do
anything. They gathered in large numbers, and most interestedly
watched it go up, and then went home again. But they were not
stricken with wonder to any great extent. So also with
locomotives, motor cars, telephones, phonographs-any of our
modern ingenuities. The native is pleased and entertained, but
not astonished. "Stupid creature, no imagination," say we,
because our pride in showing off is a wee bit hurt.
Why should he be astonished? His mental revolution took place
when he saw the first match struck. It is manifestly impossible
for any one to make fire instantaneously by rubbing one small
stick. When for the first time he saw it done, he was indeed
vastly astounded. The immutable had been changed. The law had
been transcended. The impossible had been accomplished. And then,
as logical sequence, his mind completed the syllogism. If the
white man can do this impossibility, why not all the rest? To
defy the laws of nature by flying in the air or forcing great
masses of iron to transport one, is no more wonderful than to
defy them by striking a light. Since the white man can provedly
do one, what earthly reason exists why he should not do anything
else that hits his fancy? There is nothing to get astonished at.
This does not necessarily mean that the native looks on the white
man as a god. On the contrary, your African is very shrewd in the
reading of character. But indubitably white men possess great
magic, uncertain in its extent.
That is as far as I should care to go, without much deeper
acquaintance, into the attitude of the native mind toward the
whites. A superficial study of it, beyond the general principals
I have enunciated, discloses many strange contradictions. The
native respects the white man's warlike skill, he respects his
physical prowess, he certainly acknowledges tacitly his moral
superiority in the right to command. In case of dispute he likes
the white man's adjudication; in case of illness the man's
medicine; in case of trouble the white man's sustaining hand. Yet
he almost never attempts to copy the white man's appearance or
ways of doing things. His own savage customs and habits he
fulfils with as much pride as ever in their eternal fitness. Once
I was badgering Memba Sasa, asking him whether he thought the
white skin or the black skin the more ornamental. "You are not
white," he retorted at last. "That," pointing to a leaf of my
notebook, "is white. You are red. I do not like the looks of red
people."
They call our speech the "snake language," because of its hissing
sound. Once this is brought to your attention, indeed, you cannot
help noticing the superabundance of the sibilants.
A queer melange the pigeonholes of an African's brain must
contain-fear and respect, strongly mingled with clear estimate
of intrinsic character of individuals and a satisfaction with his
own standards.
Nor, I think, do we realize sufficiently the actual fundamental
differences between the African and our peoples. Physically they
must be in many ways as different from our selves as though they
actually belonged to a different species. The Masai are a fine
big race, enduring, well developed and efficient. They live
exclusively on cow's milk mixed with blood; no meat, no fruit, no
vegetables, no grain; just that and nothing more. Obviously they
must differ from us most radically, or else all our dietetic
theories are wrong. It is a well-known fact that any native
requires a triple dose of white man's medicine. Furthermore a
native's sensitiveness to pain is very much less than the white
man's. This is indubitable. For example, the Wakamba file-or,
rather, chip, by means of a small chisel-all their front teeth
down to needle points, When these happen to fall out, the warrior
substitutes an artificial tooth which he drives down into the
socket. If the savage got the same effects from such a
performance that a white man's dental system would arouse, even
"savage stoicism" would hardly do him much good. There is nothing
to be gained by multiplying examples. Every African traveller can
recall a thousand.
Incidentally, and by the way, I want to add to the milk-and-blood
joke on dietetics another on the physical culturists. We are all
familiar with the wails over the loss of our toe nails. You know
what I mean; they run somewhat like this: shoes are the curse of
civilization; if we wear them much longer we shall not only lose
the intended use of our feet, but we shall lose our toe nails as
well; the savage man, etc. , etc. , etc. Now I saw a great many of
said savage men in Africa, and I got much interested in their toe
nails, because I soon found that our own civilized "imprisoned"
toe nails were very much better developed. In fact, a large
number of the free and untramelled savages have hardly any toe
nails at all! Whether this upsets a theory, nullifies a
sentimental protest, or merely stands as an exception, I should
not dare guess. But the fact is indubitable.
XVIII. IN THE JUNGLE (a) THE MARCH TO MERU
Now, one day we left the Isiola River and cut across on a long
upward slant to the left. In a very short time we had left the
plains, and were adrift in an ocean of brown grass that concealed
all but the bobbing loads atop the safari, and over which we
could only see when mounted. It was glorious feed, apparently,
but it contained very few animals for all that. An animal could
without doubt wax fat and sleek therein: but only to furnish
light and salutary meals to beasts of prey. Long grass makes easy
stalking. We saw a few ostriches, some giraffe, and three or four
singly adventurous oryx. The ripening grasses were softer than a
rippling field grain; and even more beautiful in their umber and
browns. Although apparently we travelled a level, nevertheless in
the extreme distance the plains of our hunting were dropping
below, and the far off mountains were slowly rising above the
horizon. On the other side were two very green hills, looking
nearly straight up and down, and through a cleft the splintered
snow-clad summit of Mt. Kenia.
At length this gentle foothill slope broke over into rougher
country. Then, in the pass, we came upon many parallel beaten
paths, wider and straighter than the game trails-native tracks.
That night we camped in a small, round valley under some glorious
trees, with green grass around us; a refreshing contrast after
the desert brown. In the distance ahead stood a big hill, and at
its base we could make out amid the tree-green, the straight slim
smoke of many fires and the threads of many roads.
We began our next morning's march early, and we dropped over the
hill into a wide, cultivated valley. Fields of grain, mostly
rape, were planted irregularly among big scattered trees. The
morning air, warming under the sun, was as yet still, and carried
sound well. The cooing, chattering and calling of thousands of
birds mingled with shouts and the clapping together of pieces of
wood. As we came closer we saw that every so often scaffolds had
been erected overlooking the grain, and on these scaffolds naked
boys danced and yelled and worked clappers to scare the birds
from the crops. They seemed to put a great deal of rigour into
the job; whether from natural enthusiasm or efficient direful
supervision I could not say. Certainly they must have worked in
watches, however; no human being could keep up that row
continuously for a single day, let alone the whole season of
ripening grain. As we passed they fell silent and stared their
fill.
On the banks of a boggy little stream that we had to flounder
across we came on a gentleman and lady travelling. They were a
tall, well formed pair, mahogany in colour, with the open,
pleasant expression of most of these jungle peoples. The man wore
a string around his waist into which was thrust a small leafy
branch; the woman had on a beautiful skirt made by halving a
banana leaf, using the stem as belt, and letting the leaf part
hang down as a skirt. Shortly after meeting these people we
turned sharp to the right on a well beaten road.
For nearly two weeks we were to follow this road, so it may be as
well to get an idea of it. Its course was a segment of about a
sixth of the circle of Kenia's foothills. With Kenia itself as a
centre, this road swung among the lower elevations about the base
of that great mountain. Its course was mainly down and up
hundreds of the canyons radiating from the main peak, and over the
ridges between them. No sooner were we down, than we had to climb
up; and no sooner were we up, than once more down we had to
plunge. At times, however, we crossed considerable plateaus. Most
of this country was dense jungle, so dense that we could not see
on either side more than fifteen or twenty feet. Occasionally,
atop the ridges, however, we would come upon small open parks. In
these jungles live millions of human beings.
At once, as soon as we had turned into the main road, we began to
meet people. In the grain fields of the valley we saw only the
elevated boys, and a few men engaged in weaving a little house
perched on stilts. We came across some of these little houses all
completed, with conical roofs. They were evidently used for
granaries. As we mounted the slope on the other side, however,
the trees closed in, and we found ourselves marching down the
narrow aisle of the jungle itself.
It was a dense and beautiful jungle, with very tall trees and the
deepest shade; and the impenetrable tangle to the edge of the
track. Among the trees were the broad leaves of bananas and
palms, the fling of leafy vines. Over the track these leaned, so
that we rode through splashing and mottling shade. Nothing could
have seemed wilder than this apparently impenetrable and yet we
had ridden but a short distance before we realized that we were
in fact passing through cultivated land. It was, again, only a
difference in terms. Native cultivation in this district rarely
consists of clearing land and planting crops in due order, but in
leaving the forest proper as it is, and in planting foodstuffs
haphazard wherever a tiny space can be made for even three hills
of corn or a single banana. Thus they add to rather than subtract
from the typical density of the jungle. At first, we found, it
took some practice to tell a farm when we saw it.
>From the track narrow little paths wound immediately out of
sight. Sometimes we saw a wisp of smoke rising above the
undergrowth and eddying in the tops of the trees. Long vine ropes
swung from point to point, hung at intervals with such matters as
feathers, bones, miniature shields, carved sticks, shells and
clappers: either as magic or to keep off the birds. From either
side the track we were conscious always of bright black eyes
watching us. Sometimes we caught a glimpse of their owners
crouched in the bush, concealed behind banana leaves, motionless
and straight against a tree trunk. When they saw themselves
observed they vanished without a sound.
The upper air was musical with birds, and bright with the flutter
of their wings. Rarely did we see them long enough to catch a
fair idea of their size and shape. They flashed from shade to
shade, leaving only an impression of brilliant colour. There were
some exceptions: as the widower-bird, dressed all in black, with
long trailing wing-plumes of which he seemed very proud; and the
various sorts of green pigeons and parrots. There were many
flowering shrubs and trees, and the air was laden with perfume.
Strange, too, it seemed to see tall trees with leaves three or
four feet long and half as many wide.
We were riding a mile or so ahead of the safari. At first we were
accompanied only by our gunbearers and syces. Before long,
however, we began to accumulate a following.
This consisted at first of a very wonderful young man, probably a
chief's son. He carried a long bright spear, wore a short sword
thrust through a girdle, had his hair done in three wrapped
queues, one over each temple and one behind, and was generally
brought to a high state of polish by means of red earth and oil.
About his knee he wore a little bell that jingled pleasingly at
every step. From one shoulder hung a goat-skin cloak embroidered
with steel beads. A small package neatly done up in leaves
probably contained his lunch. He teetered along with a mincing up
and down step, every movement, and the expression of his face
displaying a fatuous self-satisfaction. When we looked back again
this youth had magically become two. Then appeared two women and
a white goat. All except the goat were dressed for visiting, with
long chains of beads, bracelets and anklets, and heavy ornaments
in the distended ear lobes. The manner people sprang apparently
out of the ground was very disconcerting. It was a good deal like
those fairy-story moving pictures where a wave of the wand
produces beautiful ladies. By half an hour we had acquired a long
retinue-young warriors, old men, women and innumerable children.
After we had passed, the new recruits stepped quietly from the
shadow of the jungle and fell in. Every one with nothing much to
do evidently made up his mind he might as well go to Meru now as
any other time.
Also we met a great number of people going in the other
direction. Women were bearing loads of yams. Chiefs' sons minced
along, their spears poised in their left hands at just the proper
angle, their bangles jingling, their right hands carried raised
in a most affected manner. Their social ease was remarkable,
especially in contrast with the awkwardness of the lower
poverty-stricken or menial castes. The latter drew one side to
let us pass, and stared. Our chiefs' sons, on the other hand,
stepped springingly and beamingly forward; spat carefully in
their hands (we did the same); shook hands all down the line:
exchanged a long-drawn "moo-o-ga!" with each of us; and departed
at the same springing rapid gait. The ordinary warriors greeted
us, but did not offer to shake hands, thank goodness! There were
a great many of them. Across the valleys and through the open
spaces the sun, as it struck down the trail, was always flashing
back from distant spears. Twice we met flocks of sheep being
moved from one point to another. Three or four herdsmen and
innumerable small boys seemed to be in charge. Occasionally we
met a real chief or headman of a village, distinguished by the
fact that he or a servant carried a small wooden stool. With
these dignitaries we always stopped to exchange friendly words.
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