Chapter IX The Rusisi Valley
At last, on May 7th, we were sufficiently recovered to move, and bidding farewell to our good friend, Lieutenant von Gravert, we left Usambara and made a short march along the lake shore to Kijaga, a deserted Government station near the most easterly mouth of the Rusisi.
Being still much too weak to walk, I was carried in a hammock slung from a pole by a team of twelve natives of Usige kindly recruited for me by Lieutenant von Gravert, who were to take me to Dr. Kandt’s headquarters on Kivu, where the climate of the highlands, it was hoped, would render me sufficiently strong to continue my journey on foot.
After the trained “machila” teams of Nyassaland they were very crude, and many amusing incidents arose from their inexperience. However, they were willing, and served me very well.
The northern shore of the lake is flat and sandy, and for a long distance from land the water is very shallow; even at a distance of two miles hippopotami could walk on the bottom with their heads above water. The natives are great fishermen, and own many dug-out canoes; they fish mainly at night. There was little moon at the time, and we could see scores of canoes punting about, each with a great flaming torch in the bows, and the fishermen with poised spears eagerly scanning the water. The effect of the number of dimly-defined canoes gliding to and fro on the oily water, of the strong reflection of the flaming torches, and of the phosphorescent wash was most picturesque.
The Rusisi, which is the outflow of Lake Kivu, falls into Lake Tanganyika through five mouths, four of which are close together slightly to the east of the centre of the northern shore, while the fifth is on the extreme western point under the gigantic hills that line the western shore. The enclosed deltas are very flat and swampy, and in part covered with forest, the haunt of many elephant, a large portion of which are said by the Arabs to be tuskless.
During many weary days of sickness at Usambara, I had gazed up that mighty valley, the vast flat gently merging into endless vistas of purple hills, behind winch lay the mysterious waters of Kivu and the giant volcanoes (the pulse of Africa), flanked by two massive walls of mountains—the path that led to the yet unknown, the first real stage of the task that we had set ourselves! And for long it seemed as though I had struggled thus far only to die at the very gate. The extraordinary beauty of the scene fascinated me, and with its eddying mists and fading hills, redolent of mystery, it seemed a fitting entry to an unknown land.
At Kijaga we rose to find that our cook and the three boys whom we had engaged at Usambara had bolted in the night, taking with them their month’s pay and two months’ rations. We immediately sent a note in to Von Gravert, and his police very cleverly caught them two days later, although they tried to go down to Ujiji by a path that leads over the hills at the back of the station. The capture was a very clever one, and reflects great credit on the German administrative organization.
Our cow-boys were a great nuisance; they refused to go near one of the cows which kicked, and they evidently considered that the little milk they succeeded in extracting from the others had been earned by the trouble of extraction, consequently what eventually arrived for us was limited in quantity. A strong protest, backed by mild physical correction, produced a larger quantity, but it was sour, and on inquiry we found that they had drunk our fresh milk, and for a small consideration purchased some sour milk from a neighbouring chief; they foolishly brought it stone cold, ostensibly fresh from the cow. They assured us that all the cows in that country produced sour milk.
For the first fifteen miles the valley is absolutely flat, and deposits of semi-fossilized shells indicate a historically recent upheaval.
There are two streams, the Mpanda and Kazeki, flowing from the east; the former has a considerable volume of water.
The flat, which is about two miles wide, is covered with very short, poor-looking grass, and dotted here and there with magnificent specimens of the candelabra euphorbia, looking in the distance like gigantic cabbages. An occasional palm-tree breaks the desolate monotony, and a very occasional small antelope lends a suggestion of life.
To the west the Rusisi makes a long curve towards the enclosing mountain range, and in places spreads out into swampy lagoons apparently of some extent.
Our carriers had been giving much trouble, lagging behind and not arriving till two or three hours after our arrival, hoping thereby to escape fatigue duties. It was most desirable to have the caravan as compact as possible on the march, in view of possible troubles with the natives.
We allowed them, therefore, half an hour’s margin, and every one who arrived after that, without having obtained permission in the morning for sickness or some valid reason, was made to stand with his load on his head in the middle of camp as long as was deemed sufficient for his particular case. We found this much more effectual as a punishment than fines (a system to be deprecated, except in Government stations). The native enjoys his afternoon nap, he likes to stroll into the neighbouring villages, show his best clothes off before the local beauties, and pass the time of day with the village cronies. It jars on him to have to stand doing nothing while he sees his friends chatting and discussing their bananas and the topics of the day. One such punishment usually sufficed for at least a month, and a native must be very much impressed to remember anything for as long as that.
Fifteen miles from Kijaga there is a bunch of large villages. The chief is called Balamata. They are situated on the advance spur of a line of conical peaks which divide the main valley into two sections: the western branch, which trends north-west by north, is the valley of the Rusisi; while the eastern branch, which trends north-east by north, comes from Kirimbi and Imbo. Close to Balamata a small stream flows from the central peaks towards the eastern valley, and as we did not pass any stream of consequence, I imagine that this small stream and the whole of the drainage of the valley loses itself in the swamp which I could plainly see a few miles to the east.
Passing round the western side of Balamata’s peaks, we found the country similar to the first stage of the valley, flat and dotted with euphorbia, the mean altitude being slightly higher than the lake level. We passed over two extraordinary ravines dug out of the flat country. One was evidently a dry stream-bed, but the other appeared to have no outlet, and I could find no satisfactory clue to its origin.
The Rusisi here flows under the eastern wall; it is a large body of water flowing through wide expanses of papyrus, and is probably navigable for small steamers to a point forty miles north of the lake.
The population is very scanty. The scattered villages and their cattle-pens are enclosed by artificial hedges of euphorbia.
A large stream, the Kagunozi, flows down from the east a few miles north of Balamata’s, and three miles further north is the village of Buvinka, a chief of some importance.
North of Buvinka’s, a large stream called the Kabulantwa flows into the Rusisi from the east, which appears to be very broken and mountainous in the distance. We had much difficulty in crossing the stream with our cattle and goats, owing to the power of the current. Several goats were washed away, but with the exception of two, all were eventually rescued by the boys, who were expert swimmers. In places the stream narrowed considerably, forming foaming rapids, and it was splendid to see some of the Manyema shooting down like arrows in pursuit of an old billy-goat, eventually dragging him half drowned on to the bank. Some of the cows refused to enter the water, and had to be forcibly dragged across by ropes.
Opposite the junction of the Kabulantwa and the Rusisi, the western range of hills sends a long spur down into the valley, culminating in a well-defined conical peak, which abuts on the river, and is a splendid landmark for many miles north and south.
The dominant peaks at the back are very striking, and apparently at least 7,000 ft. high; they are very rugged, and in parts heavily wooded.
A few miles north of the Kabulantwa the valley again splits into two; the eastern branch is drained by a small and very rapid stream called the Muhira, which appears to be a highroad for elephant crossing the valley. The western branch is the valley of the Rusisi; it is very flat, and covered with coarse grass with slight thorn-scrub at the sides; part of it is marshy.
We camped in a scattered village of considerable size, thickly planted with bananas. The Rusisi flows close by, cutting its way through a dyke, which crosses the valley. The country here was much more broken, and our camp was about 300 ft. above the lake level.
The natives have a good supply of cattle, and live in scattered villages of considerable size; they are well set up, with good faces, high foreheads, and not prognathous to a conspicuous degree; they all carry long, slight, spears with small heads, and long sword-knives with elaborately-decorated sheaths. They also use a long-bladed axe with a hook on the end for cutting bananas, the handle of which is also elaborately decorated with iron, copper, and brass. On their arms they wear many wire rings and large wooden bracelets of curious shape.
In the evening I discovered an enormous jigger in my small toe, and one of my Watonga boys skilfully removed it; the bag of eggs was the size of a marrowfat pea, and as there was only the bone and top part of my toe left I was afraid that I should lose it; however, after giving me some trouble, it yielded to the persuasive influence of that panacea for all African ills, permanganate of potash, and healed.
During the night a hyæna grabbed one of the goats, and tore the poor brute so badly that it had to be killed. The following morning, after crossing some very broken country, and fording a deep stream called the Nyamgana, we arrived at the first of the three Soudanese forts, established by the Germans on the Rusisi to prevent raids of the Congolese rebels.
The treaty boundary, between the Congo and German East Africa of 1885, runs from the mouth of the Rusisi to cut the 30th degree east longitude, at a point 1° 20’ south of the equator. Hence all these three posts are well within the Congo Free State. The Germans have cleverly availed themselves of the Congolese chaos, and having placed these advance posts for the plausible object of defending their country, by occupying the natural line of defence afforded by the river, are now pleading effective occupation. In the meanwhile Dr. Kandt, under the auspices of the German Government, is investigating the possibilities of the country. On his report the Germans will know whether the country is worth a struggle.
The fort is well placed on a flat-topped hill overhanging the river, which here races along between precipitous rocks, and although it is only in charge of a native officer, it is clean and well kept. The troops are Wanyamwesi, officered by Soudanese.
We camped on the north bank of the Nyakagunda, a large stream flowing from the east; here again a line of rounded hills (a long spur of the mass of hills that hems in the north end of the valley) cuts the valley into two branches. The main or Rusisi branch is still flat and grass-covered, and obviously an old lake-bed; while the eastern branch, down which flows the Nyakagunda, is broken by many small hills.
About an hour before sunset some natives rushed in to say that they had seen elephant close to camp; they said that they were travelling, so that there was not a moment to be lost. To put the 4-bore together was a question of seconds, and hurriedly collecting the few necessaries, and ordering my “machila” team to follow, as I was still very weak, I dashed off in the direction indicated. Sharp had, unfortunately, not yet unpacked any of his 10-bore cartridges, and as every minute was precious at that time of day, it would have been useless to wait.
About two miles from camp we found the elephants; they had stopped, and were standing round a clump of euphorbia. Making a detour to catch the wind, I approached them, 4-bore in hand, and with one boy carrying the.303 behind me. There was absolutely no cover, but, to my astonishment, they took not the slightest notice of me. Gathering confidence from this, I went quite close and inspected them. There were twenty-nine in all, mostly cows, some of which, however, had enormously long, thin tusks. Taking care to avoid any sudden movements which would be likely to attract their attention, I passed to leeward of them, so close to some that I could have touched them with my rifle. The three bulls were at the far end, and I at length made up my mind which one to take. The cartridge missed fire, and at the same moment the middle bull, which had appeared small, lifted his head from behind a small euphorbia and showed a pair of very massive tusks, almost black from use. Inwardly blessing the miss-fire, I went up to within six yards of him, when the one I had left caught a puff of my wind and cocked his ears; that was all he did; he never made a sound of any description, yet the whole twenty-nine (many of which had their backs turned, or were completely hidden by the euphorbia) moved off instantly. As the black-tusked male swung round, I gave him the first barrel on the shoulder, and again the second barrel at nine yards; he dropped on to one knee, but never even lost his stride; the others closed round him, and helped him away, and that was the last I saw or heard of my first elephant. I was too weak to follow far, and the next morning I sent out some of our boys with local natives, but they never found him. When hunting elephant and other game, the extraordinary ease with which they pass on the danger-signal has often made me wonder whether they have another sense, which we, by disuse, have practically lost. Perhaps even with us it survives in a rudimentary form, causing the inexplicable phenomena of second sight, mesmerism, etc., etc.
The next morning we followed the eastern branch, and passing many steep hills, crossed a pass 5,500 ft. high, and again descended into the main valley. Numerous small streams intersected the hills, and at each ford clouds of gorgeous butterflies enlivened the scene, attracted apparently by the moisture. On the way we crossed many fresh tracks of elephant, and on the western slope of the valley a large herd had followed the track in the early morning. At the base of the slope we had much difficulty in fording a deep and rapid river, called the Kasilo; several goats and a calf were washed away, and the rest were only saved by the brilliant swimming of the Watonga contingent. Thence two hours’ hard travelling brought us to the second German Soudanese fort, situated on a small hill overlooking the Rusisi, where it issues from its broken course through the mountains which dam the south end of Lake Kivu, preparatory to its seventy-five-mile run through the flat valley bed to Lake Tanganyika.
The Soudanese officer in command was most courteous and personally presented all the local potentates, who brought us supplies of bananas, flour, and goats. He also promised to try and trace my lost elephant, but said that if, as was most probable, it had crossed the river it would be impossible to recover ivory from the obstreperous chiefs in the Congo Free State. Here, as during the whole of our journey from Tanganyika, the mosquitoes were appalling; colossal of stature, they arrived in myriads at sunset, and continued their plaintive wail till the cool hour before dawn.
On the morrow we left the Rusisi once more, and passed to the east of many striking conical hills along the flat plain of the Kasilo (which obviously in remote ages was the course of the outlet of Lake Kivu), for a distance of four miles, crossing several small tributaries of the Kasilo on our way. We turned west, and climbing the high plateau through which the Rusisi has now forced its way, camped on a high ridge 2,000 ft. above the plain. There were numerous villages and large herds of cattle, which at night are enclosed in pens strongly stockaded. Here we had entered the terrible Ruanda country, and the paramount chief of the district, Ngenzi, the most powerful satrap of the King of Ruanda, came and paid his respects. From his pleasant manner we little guessed what a source of trouble he was to prove in the near future. Small boys followed us on the march with huge wooden utensils filled with fresh milk, and our welcome was most cordial. Forests of bananas stretched far as the eye could reach to the north, east, and west, and vast fields of peas and beans bore witness to the fertility and prosperity of the country.
To the south lay the mighty valley of the Rusisi, stretching away between its enclosing walls of hills, till, in the far distance, gleamed the waters of Tanganyika.
Bidding a last farewell to those historic waters, we plunged into the wild turmoil of hills which surround Kivu, and after a six hours’ tramp, accompanied on the way by Ngenzi and his hundred followers (not forgetting the inevitable cup-bearer with his gourd of pombe and the regal sucking-straw), climbed on to a ridge from which we saw the waters of Kivu lying at our feet.
The mighty sheet of water, dotted with a hundred isles and hemmed in by a thousand imposing hills, was of surpassing beauty; the only one of the vast lakes of Central Africa which had not been first gazed upon by British eyes.