The Land of Footprints
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Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints
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We doubted it.
"Here is excellent water."
We agreed to that.
"And there is no more water for a journey."
"You are liars," we observed politely.
"And near is the village of our chief, who is a great warrior,
and will bring you many presents; the greatest man in these
parts."
"Now you're getting to it," we observed in English; "you want
trade." Then in Swahili, "We shall march two hours longer."
After a few polite phrases they went away. We finished lunch,
remounted, and rode up the trail. At the edge of the canyon we
came to a wide clearing, at the farther side of which was
evidently the village in question. But the merry villagers, down
to the last toro, were drawn up at the edge of the track in a
double line through which we rode. They were very wealthy
savages, and wore it all. Bright neck, arm, and leg ornaments,
yards and yards of cowry shells in strings, blue beads of all
sizes (blue beads were evidently "in"), odd scraps and shapes of
embroidered skins, clean shaves and a beautiful polish
characterized this holiday gathering. We made our royal progress
between the serried ranks. About eight or ten seconds after we
had passed the last villager-just the proper dramatic pause, you
observe-the bushes parted and a splendid, straight, springy young
man came into view and stepped smilingly across the space that
separated us. And about eight or ten seconds after his
emergence-again just the right dramatic pause-the bushes parted
again to give entrance to four of the quaintest little dolls of
wives. These advanced all abreast, parted, and took up positions
two either side the smiling chief. This youth was evidently in
the height of fashion, his hair braided in a tight queue bound
with skin, his ears dangling with ornaments, heavy necklaces
around his neck, and armlets etc., ad lib. His robe was of fine
monkey skin embroidered with rosettes of beads, and his spear was
very long, bright and keen. He was tall and finely built carried
himself with a free, lithe swing. As the quintette came to halt,
the villagers fell silent and our shauri began.
We drew up and dismounted. We all expectorated as gentlemen.
"These," said he proudly, "are my beebees."
We replied that they seemed like excellent beebees and politely
inquired the price of wives thereabout, and also the market for
totos. He gave us to understand that such superior wives as these
brought three cows and twenty sheep apiece, but that you could
get a pretty good toto for half a rupee.
"When we look upon our women," he concluded grandly, "we find
them good; but when we look upon the white women they are as
nothing!" He completely obliterated the poor little beebees with
a magnificent gesture. They looked very humble and abashed. I
was, however, a bit uncertain as to whether this was intended as
a genuine tribute to Billy, or was meant to console us for having
only one to his four.
Now observe the stagecraft of all this: entrance of diplomats,
preliminary conversation introducing the idea of the greatness of
N'Zahgi (for that was his name), chorus of villagers, and, as
climax, dramatic entrance of the hero and heroines. It was pretty
well done.
Again we stopped about the middle of the afternoon in an opening
on the rounded top of a hill. While waiting for the safari to
come up, Billy wandered away fifty or sixty yards to sit under a
big tree. She did not stay long. Immediately she was settled, a
dozen women and young girls surrounded her. They were almost
uproariously good-natured, but Billy was probably the first white
woman they had ever seen, and they intended to make the most of
her. Every item of her clothes and equipment they examined
minutely, handled and discussed. When she told them with great
dignity to go away, they laughed consumedly, fairly tumbling into
each other's arms with excess of joy. Billy tried to gather her
effects for a masterly retreat, but found the press of numbers
too great. At last she had to signal for help. One of us wandered
over with a kiboko with which lightly he flicked the legs of such
damsels as he could reach. They scattered like quail, laughing
hilariously. Billy was escorted back to safety.
Shortly after the Chief and his Prime Minister came in. He was a
little old gray-haired gentleman, as spry as a cricket, quite
nervous, and very chatty. We indicated our wants to him, and he
retired after enunciating many words. The safari came in, made
camp. We had tea and a bath. The darkness fell; and still no
Chief, no milk, no firewood, no promises fulfilled. There were
plenty of natives around camp, but when we suggested that they
get out and rustle on our behalf, they merely laughed
good-naturedly. We seriously contemplated turning the whole lot
out of camp.
Finally we gave it up, and sat down to our dinner. It was now
quite dark. The askaris had built a little campfire out in front.
Then, far in the distance of the jungle's depths, we heard a
faint measured chanting as of many people coming nearer. From
another direction this was repeated. The two processions
approached each other; their paths converged; the double chanting
became a chorus that grew moment by moment. We heard beneath the
wild weird minors the rhythmic stamping of feet, and the tapping
of sticks. The procession debouched from the jungle's edge into
the circle of the firelight. Our old chief led, accompanied by a
bodyguard in all the panoply of war: ostrich feather circlets
enclosing the head and face, shields of bright heraldry, long
glittering spears. These were followed by a dozen of the
quaintest solemn dolls of beebees dressed in all the white cowry
shells, beads and brass the royal treasury afforded, very
earnest, very much on inspection, every little head uplifted,
singing away just as hard as ever they could. Each carried a
gourd of milk, a bunch of bananas, some sugarcane, yams or the
like. Straight to the fire marched the pageant. Then the warriors
dividing right and left, drew up facing each other in two lines,
struck their spears upright in the ground, and stood at
attention. The quaint brown little women lined up to close the
end of this hollow square, of which our group was, roughly
speaking, the fourth side. Then all came to attention. The song
now rose to a wild and ecstatic minor chanting. The beebees,
still singing, one by one cast their burdens between the files
and at our feet in the middle of the hollow square. Then they
continued their chant, singing away at the tops of their little
lungs, their eyes and teeth showing, their pretty bodies held
rigidly upright. The warriors, very erect and military, stared
straight ahead.
And the chief? Was he the centre of the show, the important
leading man, to the contemplation of whom all these glories led?
Not at all! This particular chief did not have the soul of a
leading man, but rather the soul of a stage manager. Quite
forgetful of himself and his part in the spectacle, his brow
furrowed with anxiety, he was flittering from one to another of
the performers. He listened carefully to each singer in turn,
holding his hand behind his ear to catch the individual note,
striking one on the shoulder in admonition, nodding approval at
another. He darted unexpectedly across to scrutinize a warrior,
in the chance of catching a flicker of the eyelid even. Nary a
flicker! They did their stage manager credit, and stood like
magnificent bronzes. He even ran across to peer into our own
faces to see how we liked it.
With a sudden crescendo the music stopped. Involuntarily we broke
into handclapping. The old boy looked a bit startled at this, but
we explained to him, and he seemed very pleased. We then accepted
formally the heap of presents, by touching them-and in turn
passed over a blanket, a box of matches, and two needles,
together with beads for the beebees. Then F., on an inspiration,
produced his flashlight. This made a tremendous sensation. The
women tittered and giggled and blinked as its beams were thrown
directly into their eyes; the chief's sons grinned and guffawed;
the chief himself laughed like a pleased schoolboy, and seemed
never to weary of the sudden shutting on and off of the switch.
But the trusty Spartan warriors, standing still in their
formation behind their planted spears, were not to be shaken.
They glared straight in front of them, even when we held the
light within a few inches of their eyes, and not a muscle
quivered!
"It is wonderful! wonderful!" the old man repeated. "Many
Government men have come here, but none have had anything like
that! The bwanas must be very great sultans!"
After the departure of our friends, we went rather grandly to
bed. We always did after any one had called us sultans.
But our prize chief was an individual named M'booley.* Our camp
here also was on a fine cleared hilltop between two streams.
After we had traded for a while with very friendly and prosperous
people M'booley came in. He was young, tall, straight, with a
beautiful smooth lithe form, and his face was hawklike and
cleverly intelligent. He carried himself with the greatest
dignity and simplicity, meeting us on an easy plane of
familiarity. I do not know how I can better describe his manner
toward us than to compare it to the manner the member of an
exclusive golf club would use to one who is a stranger, but
evidently a guest. He took our quality for granted; and supposed
we must do the same by him, neither acting as though he
considered us "great white men," nor yet standing aloof and too
respectful. And as the distinguishing feature of all, he was
absolutely without personal ornament.
*Pronounce each o separately.
Pause for a moment to consider what a real advance in esthetic
taste that one little fact stands for. All M'booley's attendants
were the giddiest and gaudiest savages we had yet seen, with more
colobus fur, sleighbells, polished metal, ostrich plumes, and red
paint than would have fitted out any two other royal courts of
the jungle. The women too were wealthy and opulent without limit.
It takes considerable perception among our civilized people to
realize that severe simplicity amid ultra magnificence makes the
most effective distinguishing of an individual. If you do not
believe it, drop in at the next ball to which you are invited.
M'booley had fathomed this, and what was more he had the strength
of mind to act on it. Any savage loves finery for its own sake.
His hair was cut short, and shaved away at the edges to leave
what looked like an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one
pair of plain armlets on his left upper arm and small simple
ear-rings. His robe was black. He had no trace of either oil or
paint, nor did he even carry a spear.
He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and inquired
conversationally if we wanted anything. We suggested wood and
milk, whereupon still smiling, he uttered a few casual words in
his own language to no one in particular. There was no earthly
doubt that he was chief. Three of the most gorgeous and haughty
warriors ran out of camp. Shortly long files of women came in
bringing loads of firewood; and others carrying bananas, yams,
sugarcane and a sheep. Truly M'booley did things on a princely
scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks with a casual
smile, waved his hand and went on to talk of something else. In
due order our M'ganga brought up one of our best trade blankets,
to which we added a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor.
Now into camp filed a small procession: four women, four
children, and two young men. These advanced to where M'booley was
standing smoking with great satisfaction one of B's tailor-made
cigarettes. M'booley advanced ten feet to meet them, and brought
them up to introduce them one by one in the most formal fashion.
These were of course his family, and we had to confess that they
"saw" N'Zahgi's outfit of ornaments and "raised" him beyond the
ceiling. We gave them each in turn the handshake of ceremony,
first with the palms as we do it, and then each grasping the
other's upright thumb. The "little chiefs" were proud,
aristocratic little fellows, holding themselves very straight and
solemn. I think one would have known them for royalty anywhere.
It was quite a social occasion. None of our guests was in the
least ill at ease; in fact, the young ladies were quite coy and
flirtatious. We had a great many jokes. Each of the little ladies
received a handful of prevailing beads. M'booley smiled benignly
at these delightful femininities. After a time he led us to the
edge of the hill and showed us his houses across the cation,
perched on a flat about halfway up the wall. They were of the
usual grass-thatched construction, but rather larger and neater
than most. Examining them through the glasses we saw that a
little stream had been diverted to flow through the front yard.
M'booley waved his hand abroad and gave us to understand that he
considered the outlook worth looking at. It was; but an
appreciation of that fact is foreign to the average native. Next
morning, when we rode by very early, we found the little flat
most attractively cleared and arranged. M'booley was out to shake
us by the hand in farewell, shivering in the cold of dawn. The
flirtatious and spoiled little beauties were not in evidence.
One day after two very deep canyons we emerged from the forest
jungle into an up and down country of high jungle bush-brush.
>From the top of a ridge it looked a good deal like a northern
cut-over pine country grown up very heavily to blackberry vines;
although, of course, when we came nearer, the "blackberry vines"
proved to be ten or twenty feet high. This was a district of
which Horne had warned us. The natives herein were reported
restless and semi-hostile; and in fact had never been friendly.
They probably needed the demonstration most native tribes seem to
require before they are content to settle down and be happy. At
any rate safaris were not permitted in their district; and we
ourselves were allowed to go through merely because we were a
large party, did not intend to linger, and had a good reputation
with natives.
It is very curious how abruptly, in Central Africa, one passes
from one condition to another, from one tribe or race to the
next. Sometimes, as in the present case, it is the traversing of
a deep cation; at others the simple crossing of a tiny brook is
enough. Moreover the line of demarcation is clearly defined, as
boundaries elsewhere are never defined save in wartime.
Thus we smiled our good-bye to a friendly numerous people,
descended a hill, and ascended another into a deserted track.
After a half mile we came unexpectedly on to two men carrying
each a load of reeds. These they abandoned and fled up the
hillside through the jungle, in spite of our shouted assurances.
A moment later they reappeared at some distance above us, each
with a spear he had snatched from somewhere; they were unarmed
when we first caught sight of them. Examined through the glasses
they proved to be sullen looking men, copper coloured, but broad
across the cheekbones, broad in the forehead, more decidedly of
the negro type than our late hosts.
Aside from these two men we travelled through an apparently
deserted jungle. I suspect, however, that we were probably well
watched; for when we stopped for noon we heard the gunbearers
beyond the screen of leaves talking to some one. On learning from
our boys that these were some of the shenzis, we told them to
bring the savages in for a shauri; but in this our men failed,
nor could they themselves get nearer than fifty yards or so to
the wild people. So until evening our impression remained that of
two distant men, and the indistinct sound of voices behind a
leafy screen.
We made camp comparatively early in a wide open space surrounded
by low forest. Almost immediately then the savages commenced to
drift in, very haughty and arrogant. They were fully armed.
Besides the spear and decorated shield, some of them carried the
curious small grass spears. These are used to stab upward from
below, the wielder lying flat in the grass. Some of these men
were fantastically painted with a groundwork ochre, on which had
been drawn intricate wavy designs on the legs, like stockings,
and varied stripes across the face. One particularly ingenious
individual, stark naked, had outlined a roughly entire skeleton! He
was a gruesome object! They stalked here and there through the
camp, looking at our men and their activities with a lofty and
silent contempt.
You may be sure we had our arrangements, though they did not
appear on the surface. The askaris, or native soldiers, were
posted here and there with their muskets; the gunbearers also
kept our spare weapons by them. The askaris could not hit a barn, but
they could make a noise. The gunbearers were fair shots.
Of course the chief and his prime minister came in. They were
evil-looking savages. To them we paid not the slightest
attention, but went about our usual business as though they did
not exist. At the end of an hour they of their own initiative
greeted us. We did not hear them. Half an hour later they
disappeared, to return after an interval, followed by a string of
young men bearing firewood. Evidently our bearing had impressed
them, as we had intended. We then unbent far enough to recognize
them, carried on a formal conversation for a few moments, gave
them adequate presents and dismissed them. Then we ordered the
askaris to clear camp and to keep it clear. No women had
appeared. Even the gifts of firewood had been carried by men, a
most unusual proceeding.
As soon as dark fell the drums began roaring in the forest all
about our clearing, and the chanting to rise. We instructed our
men to shoot first and inquire afterward, if a shenzi so much as
showed himself in the clearing. This was not as bad as it
sounded; the shenzi stood in no immediate danger. Then we turned
in to a sleep rather light and broken by uncertainty. I do not
think we were in any immediate danger of a considered attack, for
these people were not openly hostile; but there was always a
chance that the savages might by their drum pounding and dancing
work themselves into a frenzy. Then we might have to do a little
rapid shooting. Not for one instant the whole night long did
those misguided savages cease their howling and dancing. At any
rate we cost them a night's sleep.
Next morning we took up our march through the deserted tracks
once more. Not a sign of human life did we encounter. About ten
o'clock we climbed down a tremendous gash of a box canyon with
precipitous cliffs. From below we looked back to see, perched
high against the skyline, the motionless figures of many savages
watching us from the crags. So we had had company after all, and
we had not known it. This canyon proved to be the boundary line.
With the same abruptness we passed again into friendly country.
(d) OUT THE OTHER SIDE
We left the jungle finally when we turned on a long angle away
from Kenia. At first the open country of the foothills was
closely cultivated with fields of rape and maize. We saw some of
the people breaking new soil by means of long pointed sticks. The
plowmen quite simply inserted the pointed end in the ground and
pried. It was very slow hard work. In other fields the grain
stood high and good. From among the stalks, as from a miniature
jungle, the little naked totos stared out, and the good-natured
women smiled at us. The magnificent peak of Kenia had now shaken
itself free of the forests. On its snow the sunrises and sunsets
kindled their fires. The flames of grass fires, too, could
plainly be made out, incredible distances away, and at daytime,
through the reek, were fascinating suggestions of distant rivers,
plains, jungles, and hills. You see, we were still practically on
the wide slope of Kenia's base, though the peak was many days
away, and so could look out over wide country.
The last half day of this we wandered literally in a rape field.
The stalks were quite above our heads, and we could see but a few
yards in any direction. In addition the track had become a
footpath not over two feet wide. We could occasionally look back
to catch glimpses of a pack or so bobbing along on a porter's
head. From our own path hundreds of other paths branched; we were
continually taking the wrong fork and moving back to set the
safari right before it could do likewise. This we did by drawing
a deep double line in the earth across the wrong trail. Then we
hustled on ahead to pioneer the way a little farther; our
difficulties were further complicated by the fact that we had
sent our horses back to Nairobi for fear of the tsetse fly, so we
could not see out above the corn. All we knew was that we ought
to go down hill.
At the ends of some of our false trails we came upon fascinating
little settlements: groups of houses inside brush enclosures,
with low wooden gateways beneath which we had to stoop to enter.
Within were groups of beehive houses with small naked children
and perhaps an old woman or old man seated cross-legged under a
sort of veranda. From them we obtained new-and confusing-
directions.
After three o'clock we came finally out on the edge of a cliff
fifty or sixty feet high, below which lay uncultivated bottom
lands like a great meadow and a little meandering stream. We
descended the cliff, and camped by the meandering stream.
By this time we were fairly tired from long walking in the heat,
and so were content to sit down under our tent-fly before our
little table, and let Mahomet bring us sparklets and lime juice.
Before us was the flat of a meadow below the cliffs and the
cliffs themselves. Just below the rise lay a single patch of
standing rape not over two acres in extent, the only sign of
human life. It was as though this little bit had overflowed from
the countless millions on the plateau above. Beyond it arose a
thin signal of smoke.
We sipped our lime juice and rested. Soon our attention was
attracted by the peculiar actions of a big flock of very white
birds. They rose suddenly from one side of the tiny rape field,
wheeled and swirled like leaves in the wind, and dropped down
suddenly on the other side the patch. After a few moments they
repeated the performance. The sun caught the dazzling white of
their plumage. At first we speculated on what they might be, then
on what they were doing, to behave in so peculiar a manner. The
lime juice and the armchair began to get in their recuperative
work. Somehow the distance across that flat did not seem quite as
tremendous as at first. Finally I picked up the shotgun and
sauntered across to investigate. The cause of action I soon
determined. The owner of that rape field turned out to be an
emaciated, gray-haired but spry old savage. He was armed with a
spear; and at the moment his chief business in life seemed to be
chasing a large flock of white birds off his grain. Since he had
no assistance, and since the birds held his spear in justifiable
contempt as a fowling piece, he was getting much exercise and few
results. The birds gave way before his direct charge, flopped
over to the other side, and continued their meal. They had
already occasioned considerable damage; the rape heads were bent
and destroyed for a space of perhaps ten feet from the outer edge
of the field. As this grain probably constituted the old man's food supply
for a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with which he shook
his spear at his enemies, nor the apparent flavour of his language,
though I did marvel at his physical endurance. As for the birds,
they had become cynical and impudent; they barely fluttered out
of the way.
I halted the old gentleman and hastened to explain that I was
neither a pirate, a robber, nor an oppressor of the poor. This as
counter-check to his tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge.
He understood a little Swahili, and talked a few words of
something he intended for that language. By means of our mutual
accomplishment in that tongue, and through a more efficient sign
language, I got him to understand the plan of campaign. It was
very simple. I squatted down inside the rape, while he went
around the other side to scare them up.
The white birds uttered their peculiarly derisive cackle at the
old man and flapped over to my side. Then they were certainly an
astonished lot of birds. I gave them both barrels and dropped a
pair; got two more shots as they swung over me and dropped
another pair, and brought down a straggling single as a grand
finale. The flock, with shrill, derogatory remarks, flew in an
airline straight away. They never deviated, as far as I could
follow them with the eye. Even after they had apparently
disappeared, I could catch an occasional flash of white in the
sun.
Now the old gentleman came whooping around with long, undignified
bounds to fall on his face and seize my foot in an excess of
gratitude. He rose and capered about, he rushed out and gathered
in the slain one by one and laid them in a pile at my feet. Then
he danced a jig-step around them and reviled them, and fell on
his face once more, repeating the word "Bwana! bwana! bwana!"
over and over-"Master! master! master!" We returned to camp
together, the old gentleman carrying the birds, and capering
about like a small boy, pouring forth a flood of his sort of
Swahili, of which I could understand only a word here and there.
Memba Sasa, very dignified and scornful of such performances, met
us halfway and took my gun. He seemed to be able to understand
the old fellow's brand of Swahili, and said it over again in a
brand I could understand. From it I gathered that I was called a
marvellously great sultan, a protector of the poor, and other
Arabian Nights titles.
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