Chapter XV Toro to Mboga
Leaving Fort Gerry and all its hospitalities on August 28th, I skirted along the northern spur of Ruwenzori, passing between the little volcanic lakes Vijongo, and after three hours’ walking, arrived at the edge of the first escarpment. Here there is a sheer drop of 1,500 ft. from the undulating table-land of Toro proper to the scrub-clad terrace about eight miles wide, which in its turn overlooks the Semliki valley, a further drop of 500 ft. From the edge of the first escarpment the view is truly magnificent; to the south looms the mighty bulk of Ruwenzori, a purple mass, peak piled upon peak, black-streaked with forest, scored with ravine, and ever mounting till her castellated crags shoot their gleaming tips far into the violet heavens. But it is only for a brief hour at sunset or sunrise: then again the mists swirl up her thousand gorges, again the storm-cloud lowers and broods grumbling round her virgin snows as though jealous of the future—a future of Cook’s tours, funicular railways, personally-conducted ascents (with a sermon and ginger-beer thrown in). Well! thank God I have seen her first—seen her as she has stood for countless ages, wrapped in impenetrable mystery, undesecrated by human tread since the awful travail that gave her birth. “The Mountains of the Moon”—the very name breathes mystery and romance, and fitly have romance and the myths of the ancients played round her crest, for is she not part mother of the Nile? Alas! even as we gaze she fades away, a murky glow lights up the evening sky, again she starts into bold relief, ’tis her last farewell! The mists eddy round those frowning crags, creeping here, drifting there, and the curtain drops, hiding all but the great black base. Such is Ruwenzori, when she deigns to show herself; and only when there is rain in the air is she thus condescending.
Scarcely less striking is the outlook to the north. Deep shade is already on the terrific slope at our feet, while the setting sun still lights up the vast basin of the Semliki and the Albert Lake. We seem to be standing on the brink of a new world, ourselves in shade cast by the western spur, and the eye wanders on over sunlit plain picked out with silver streaks, where in places we catch a glimpse of the Semliki, and on till the lake lies gleaming like a sea of quicksilver, and yet on and on, ever-fading steel-blue to grey, till we can just see the black outlines of the hills against the blue-green sky, flecked with the gauzy pink of the after-glow. Then like a flash all is grey, for we are very near the equator, and we turn in to “kuku”11 stew and the luxury of new potatoes and tomatoes. Those kukus! They are like Sinbad’s old man of the sea, you cannot shake them off, for they are really indispensable. Their only resemblance to their English namesake is in name, for neither are they fine birds nor do they fly; nor, if they did fly, would they confine their vocal efforts to the period of their flight, but would, I am sure, still retain that inimitable faculty of producing at all, and more especially unseasonable, times, the most startling and by-no-means-(not-even-by-death)-repressible cries that have justly made them so beloved of African travellers. As I have had so many opportunities of observing the African variety of this world-wide domestic nuisance, less favoured observers may find a few remarks not out of place.
First, they are essentially gregarious. I have often seen large flocks collecting on any strange piece of clothing or blanket, especially if such blanket be placed out to dry after rain.
Secondly, they are capable of feeling and showing great affection for man. In fact, the united efforts of three servants have often failed to prevent them coming into my tent during the heat of the day, and, just out of respect, leaving a few superfluous inhabitants behind.
Thirdly, like the nightingale, they sing at night, taking especial delight in those ditties that have a good, full chorus.
Fourthly, they never lay fresh eggs—only eggs that have qualified for the seventh heaven. Presumably, as the native likes a good, full egg, it is the old tale of the survival of the fittest, and the hen who can lay a real Blondin has been spared. If so, this must dislodge all geological estimates of the date of the creation, as nothing short of incalculable ages could have brought the breed to its present state of perfection. For a long time I considered this elegant bird exempt from the natural process of decay, as no reasonable period after decease produced any modification in its adamantine structure, but a certain incident not unconnected with soup dispelled this excusable illusion.
And lastly, but not leastly, this diabolical fowl, although it can hang head downwards in a temperature of 140° for many hours without showing any signs of inconvenience other than a slightly intensified complexion, and although it greets with contumely blows inflicted with the various missiles to be found at a moment’s notice in an average tent, yet, should it be left with natives other than its rightful owner for one short hour, it is so overcome with modesty that it reverts rapidly and without perceptible residue into its original invisible components.
The extent to which the kuku enters into one’s very existence in Africa is, I feel sure, a sufficient excuse for this digression. In fact, I believe that, were it not for the counter-irritation produced by the camp goats, I should have “kuku” on the brain.
Having successfully wrestled with the athletic cause of this digression, and unsuccessfully with a prehistoric gun that a neighbouring chief brought me for medical treatment, and dreamt that a rooster with 10 ft. tusks was dancing the double shuffle on my chest, I descended into the valley, and after two hours’ walking reached the Semliki, a fine river, here sixty to seventy yards wide, with a current of about five miles an hour. When I had, with the greatest difficulty, wedged myself in a very long, very unstable, and appallingly leaky piece of firewood (called by courtesy a canoe), and had with still greater difficulty dissuaded fifteen gentlemen from risking the voyage in my company, in the lucid intervals of the amazement with which I viewed the frantic efforts of my Charon (for such he was like to prove) to keep the stick’s head up-stream, I gathered from a benevolent philanthropist on shore that a woman had been taken that morning by a crocodile from the very spot where we came to land, and that on no account must I permit my boys to go to the water’s edge, as the crocodiles were very numerous and very daring. However, suitably cheered by this information, and in defiance of all such paltry laws of nature as gravity, we eventually did succeed in landing safely on the other side; how or why I cannot say, as only the two ends of the canoe were in the water, the middle, where I sat, being slightly raised above the surface. I suppose the whole concern had warped. Whatever the cause, I did not fancy trusting my baggage in her, so I sent up the river, and after much yelling and more delay, another more serviceable concern was produced. Having fixed on a place for my tent, I left the boys to attend to the passage of my belongings, and went out in search of dinner.
The plain, which here is about six miles wide, is covered with short grass and dotted with clumps of euphorbia and thorn-bush, and is the home of countless reedbuck and herds of Uganda kob. During the rains it is the playground of troops of elephant and of the few survivors of the teeming herds of buffalo that formerly roamed over all this country. I had no difficulty in bringing two bucks to grass, as the country offered magnificent stalking-ground, and the meat made a very agreeable change after the everlasting mutton. The Uganda kob (Cobus Thomasi) very closely resembles the pookoo (Cobus Vardoni), though its coat, which is of a beautiful reddish colour, is less foxy and not so long in the hair as that of the pookoo. They both have the regular gait of the waterbuck, that so forcibly reminds one of our own red deer. But whereas the pookoo never seems to run in herds of more than twenty or thirty, I have seen as many as three hundred Thomasi together. The leading buck of this herd, which I shot, had horns 20 in. in length.
Here, as elsewhere, I was much impressed by the two different types of native, the sharp, intelligent, almost delicate features and the lithe limbs of the aristocrats (of Galla origin) contrasting very forcibly with the coarse, squat, ape-like appearance of the rabble. Some of the lower class have really no ostensible claims to being human, beyond the ability to produce fire. Covering even of the most rudimentary description is totally ignored by both sexes. Leaving the Semliki, we travelled west to the hills of Mboga, and shortly left the plain below, rising into a country of miniature cañons, intersected by numerous ravines full of elephant-grass. Here we camped and sent out scouts in all directions to search for njojo (the local name for elephant). I had just made myself comfortable when news was brought of elephant to the south, so I set off without delay, only to find a herd of small cows. On my return to camp my boys told me that there was an elephant quite close, and pointed him out, standing under a tree in the middle of the elephant-grass in the ravine at our feet. As the sun was very hot, I concluded that he was likely to stop where he was, and setting a boy on an ant-hill to watch him, I sat down to lunch. He did stop where he was till I had finished lunch, and then moved on, and as it was useless to go into the grass, 15 to 25 ft. high, without a definite landmark such as the tree would have proved, I was fain to dodge about, watching him, when I could get an occasional glimpse, and to wait for another chance. Several times I lost sight of him altogether, and then again would see an ear. At last, as he appeared to be coming near the stream, which here ran close underneath the bank on which I was standing, I went down through the thorns and grass and waited, but in vain. Again I mounted the bank, but could see no signs of him till I was turning campwards in despair, when my boy saw the grass move, and this time quite close to the stream. Down we scrambled once more and stood in the bed of the stream listening. Then the crack of a twig and the waving of the tops of the grass showed that he was coming, and he glided past a slight gap in the thicket like some spectre, but I could not get a shot, although within twenty yards. I never can understand how they manage to glide through the most tangled jungles almost without sound unless they are alarmed, when it seems as if all hell were loosed. I followed quickly down the stream, the grass now completely hiding him, and suddenly came on him drinking in a small mud-hole, at about fifteen yards distance. He gave me a half side-shot, and I fired at his head, giving him a second as he swung round. Down he came like an avalanche, and lay thrashing the reeds with his trunk. Fearing that he might get up again, I approached to give him the coup de grâce. I was already within six yards, but still unable to see him, when a cold puff on the back of my neck gave me warning of a chance in the wind. I stepped back as he struggled to his feet, and his great trunk came quivering forward within two yards of my face. Again the wind steadied, and as I stood motionless as a rock, he failed to see me, swung round, and made off. Three shots I poured into him, then waited, sick at heart, listening to the crash-crash as he went away, till again I heard that welcome roar of rending tree and rush. He was down: a long gurgle and a sob, and all was over. Although a small elephant, he carried beautiful teeth, 7 ft. 9 in. and 7 ft. (tip broken), and weighing 72 lbs. and 69 lbs.
I reached camp just at dusk, and found that Changera, one of the Mboga chiefs, had come in to see me. His country lies between Tavara’s and Kavalli’s, and stretches from the top of the Congo Semliki watershed to the Semliju. The following morning I went down to see how they were cutting out the tusks, and found that hordes of Balegga had swarmed down from the hills for the meat. A weird sight it was: stark naked savages with long greased hair (in some cases hanging down on their shoulders) were perched on every available inch of the carcase, hacking away with knives and spears, yelling, snarling, whooping, wrestling, cursing, and munching, covered with blood and entrails; the new arrivals tearing off lumps of meat and swallowing them raw, the earlier birds defending their worms in the form of great lumps of fat paunch and other delicacies; while others were crawling in and out of the intestines lake so many prairie marmots. Old men, young men, prehistoric hags, babies, one and all gorging or gorged; pools of blood, strips of hide, vast bones, blocks of meat, individuals who had not dined wisely but too well, lay around in bewildering profusion; and in two short hours all was finished. Nothing remained but the gaunt ribs like the skeleton of a shipwreck, and a few disconsolate-looking vultures perched thereon.
The Balegga live in the hills to the north of Mboga proper, though many of them are now under Changera, having fled south from the Belgians. They are good specimens of the real Central African savage, rather short, but well-set-up, innocent of clothing as a babe unborn, and blessed with an inordinate and insatiable craving for meat, which at that time was, if possible, intensified by the failure of their crops, owing to the drought. They wear their hair in long thin plaits, liberally smeared with grease, which gives them a very wild appearance, especially when, as I noticed in some cases, it hangs down over their face. In the intervals of gorging and hacking, they amused themselves by smearing the caked blood over their hair and bodies—a proceeding that gave general satisfaction. I gathered from them that many had lately come south to Mboga (which is at present administered from Fort Gerry) to avoid the persecution of the Belgians, who had killed, as they said, great numbers both of them and their neighbouring tribes to the north. They indignantly denied my soft impeachment of cannibalism, but from extraneous sources I gathered that any lightly grilled portion of my anatomy that might happen to wander round their way would be, so to speak, a “gone coon.”
The neighbouring chief, Tabara by name, apparently suffering from that troublesome complaint known to the faculty as “swelled head,” amused himself for the next two days by sending in an intermittent fusillade of insolence; “it was not his business to come and see every white man who came into the country,” etc., etc., ad nauseam. As I had never sent for him, being unaware even of the gentleman’s existence, and as I found on inquiry that he was a chief independent of Kasagama, and owing allegiance to the official at Fort Gerry only, I concluded that my mubaka12 provided by Kasagama was the cause of the trouble, or that he imagined I was Belgian. I therefore sent a message to him to the effect that I had no doubt he was a most admirable individual, but, strange to relate, till the arrival of his message I had been unaware of his existence; that my object in coming to the country was to shoot elephant, and not to interview obscure natives. The effect was remarkable: the following morning he turned up with a numerous following, carrying an umbrella and a very dangerous camp-stool, and presented me with sundry goats, fowls, and other edibles.
The prevailing type of elephant in these parts differs so essentially from that of Toro, that I have been forced to the conclusion that there are two distinct varieties; a theory in which the natives universally concur.
When in Toro I saw more than a thousand elephant, and without exception they carried a thick, heavy type of tusk, the elephant themselves being unusually large and solid.
In Mboga, on the other hand, the prevailing type was a much smaller elephant, with very long thin tusks. Two cows shot by Mr. Bagge carried tusks about 4 ft., and no thicker than the butt-end of a billiard-cue.
The average height of old bulls in Mboga is about 9 ft., while the only two that I shot in Toro were 11 ft. and upwards, and several others that I had a chance of observing closely must have been about the same size. The Indian notion of twice the circumference of the foot equalling the height does not hold with the African species; I generally found that it fell short of the height by about 8 or 10 in. In a subsequent chapter I have dealt fully with this question.
A few days later, answering to the call of elephant, I came on a herd of cows, one of which I shot, hoping to be able to send the calf into Fort Gerry. The little fellow stood about 3 ft. high, and stalked towards us in the most majestic manner, rumbling and grunting on a 12 ft. scale at least. So confident was his advance that my boys, guns and all, fled without more ado, and it was only when I had caught him by the tail that they ventured back. His strength was amazing, and it needed the united efforts of myself and four boys to throw him. However, we eventually managed to tie his legs together, and laid him under a tree squealing and shrieking like a steam-engine. Whether in his vocal efforts he broke a blood-vessel, or whether owing to the heat of the sun, the sad fact remains that after I had made all arrangements for his transport to Fort Gerry he left the earthly trials of pitfalls and 4-bores at sunset. I was very much disappointed, as I had hoped that if he had survived he might have been of service in the future, should a progressive Government, departing from the usual practice of thinking of the matter when it is too late, endeavour to make use of the vast transport treasure that is now roaming the papyrus swamps of Toro. In the greater part of Africa the elephant is now a thing of the past; and the rate at which they have disappeared is appalling. Ten years ago elephant swarmed in places like B.C.A., where now you will not find one. Still, there is yet an accessible stronghold of the pachyderm in Toro, where at the lowest possible estimate there must be fifteen thousand elephant. Why is not an effort made, and that at once (for in a few years’ time it will be too late), to secure this vast means of transport to posterity? What an inestimable boon to the country, and what an easy solution of half the labour problem that is already such a thorn in the side of the southern administrations! I suppose it is on the same principle on which a paternal Government sends its servants out to a pestilential spot where the sole recreation is shooting, and then forbids them that recreation, while allowing every native who can command a gas-pipe and a handful of powder to sally forth and slay a tithe of what he wounds, regardless of sex and age; or on which the same paternal Government allows the aforesaid servants to take out and pay for a licence permitting them to shoot two elephant, and then confidentially informs them that all ivory shot by servants of the Protectorate, either within or without the Protectorate’s dominions, is the property of the Government; however (note the wild, unreasoning generosity), servants returning home may, with the permission of the Commissioner, be allowed to take a pair of tusks as a trophy. Upon what possible theory this preposterous claim is based I fail to conceive, unless the Government assumes that the leisure of their servants is included in their salary, in which case they may claim the pictures of an amateur artist who may be in their service, or his letters home, or anything else equally reasonable. It is the spirit of the thing that is so pitiable, and it seems so unnecessary, for nobody doubts but that the Exchequer can manage to stagger along somehow, even though deprived of the support that the miserable dozen tusks or so would afford; and, after all, the right to shoot and keep a couple of elephant is not an extravagant recompense for two years’ isolation in a wilderness devoid of recreation.
I then moved my camp some miles to the west, on a hill overlooking a large patch of very dense elephant-grass.
The next morning I went south to a deep gorge filled with dense forest, where some elephant were reported. We descended a steep grass slope into the gorge itself, which was cut up in all directions by elephant and buffalo spoor. Suddenly, with much puffing, pawing, and snorting, some buffalo rushed past at about forty yards, at the same time starting some elephant, which we heard crashing up the slope. Leaving the buffalo to puff and snort, we struck the elephant spoor and cautiously approached to where we could hear them grunting and rumbling. By stooping low it was possible to follow the path with comparative ease, but the bush was so thick that we could not see two yards ahead. Having approached within ten yards, I stood, hoping that some movement would show me their exact whereabouts; but though they quickly recovered from their fright and started feeding, I could see nothing but the occasional waving of the leaves above where they were standing. After a quarter of an hour of this amusement, during which I was balancing myself on a slippery bank of clay, I descended again, and coming dead up-wind succeeded in getting within two yards of one. A thick tangle of lianas alone separated us, and although I could hear him breathing, and felt sure he must hear my heart thumping, I could see nothing. I know nothing in the world more exciting than hunting elephant in this description of country. One approaches so close, and yet can see nothing; the only thing to do is to wait, in hopes of some movement bringing them into view. Then they make such extraordinary noises, and at every crash of a branch torn down one thinks they are stampeding or coming towards one. Again, the wind is so shifty in cover, and one puff will set them all off, very possibly in the least desirable direction. A dropping shot is almost out of the question, and when wounded they have a nasty knack of looking to see who did it; a whole regiment of lions cannot produce the same moral effect as one elephant when he cocks his ears, draws himself up to his full height, and looks at you, letting off at the same time a blood-curdling scream, while in all probability others invisible are stampeding on all sides with the din of an earthquake. They are so vast (one I measured was actually 15 ft. from edge of ear to edge of ear) that they seem to block out the whole horizon; one seems to shrivel, and the very gun to dwindle into a pea-shooter; try as I will, I can never quite stomach it, and always feel inclined to throw down my rifle and run till I drop.
At last the elephant, having an idea that something was amiss, moved, and showing his head, received a mate to that idea in the shape of a.303 bullet. Down the bank he rushed, taking the bark off one side of a tree, while I stepped round the other. I got another shot home as he passed, and head over heels he went like a bolting rabbit. Trees, bush, blocks of earth, vanished like chaff, till a mighty old veteran trunk pulled him up short about fifty yards below. There he lay, his legs in the air, screaming and vainly struggling to regain his feet, a path like the sea-wall at Brighton leading down to him. A few more shots finished him.
The next day I was again in this gorge, and after vainly floundering about on the spoor of a small elephant, and complimenting in suitable terms a swarm of biting ants which eventually left me indistinguishable from a splash of pickled cabbage, I saw a fine old tusker grazing in the short grass on the top of the further bank. To cross was a matter of minutes, as I knew that at any moment he might descend into the gorge, and on emerging I saw him still in the same place. Walking up quite close, I dropped the poor old brute with one shot. He had very long teeth for their weight, 8 ft. 4 in. (tip slightly broken), and 7 ft. 4 in. (tip broken), and weighing 76 and 73 lbs. respectively. Standing on his ribs—that is, about 6 ft. from the ground—I saw some more grazing on the other side of a branch gully, so I set off in pursuit; but some of the half-starved natives, who would follow me about the country, and had been lurking behind some bushes, spoilt my chance of a shot by darting out up-wind of the herd, presumably to catch any elephant that might drop.
For several days matters were very quiet, and though I ranged far and wide, one day following buffalo spoor for several hours, I saw nothing; till again I was wakened by the welcome cry of “njojo,” and snatching a hasty breakfast, set off, this time backed by the double 10-bore paradox which had been sent out after me, and had arrived the previous day; and very thankful I felt for its support. My double 4-bore had gone home with Sharp, who had left his paradox in its stead as the more useful all-round gun. And though I had my double.500 magnum, the firm that provided my cartridges had sent out all expanding bullets, despite the fact of my having ordered half with solids; just to humour me, however, they labelled the packets “solid bullets,” so that I never found out till north of Tanganyika. Two other firms distinguished themselves in a similar manner, one by shipping my double.303 in a case, without so much as a cleaning-rod, much less a screwdriver or spare pin, and the other by providing me at the trifling cost of 2s. 6d. each with damaged cartridge-cases for my 4-bore; the majority of them were badly split at the rim, sufficiently split to fill rapidly when held in water, and though they had been carefully repolished, on close inspection the old firing marks were quite obvious. The consequent result was that the first shot I fired I was knocked over a fallen tree two yards behind me.
Our native took us across the marsh lying below the camp by a path that in its various intricacies led into a pit of water 20 ft. deep, into which they fondly hoped some elephant would walk; then through numerous villages where the banana-groves, owing to the depredations of elephant, looked more like street barricades, till we eventually emerged from the odoriferous fog of drying elephant meat on to the ridge where I had last camped. He then told us that two elephant had come into the bananas during the night and had retired up the gorge. Skirting along the edge of the plateau, we soon saw them in the elephant-grass below, and descending with difficulty through the tangled mat of grass, I took up my position behind a tree and waited, hoping that when they moved I might have a favourable chance. One was standing under a small tree about four hundred yards away; and the other, at a distance of two hundred yards, was up to his belly in mud, his stern alone showing round a tuft of grass. Previous experience had taught me that it was useless to go down into the grass, so I had perforce to stay where I was and possess my soul in patience. After some time the one under the tree moved, and in a leisurely manner strolled up to his companion. As he emerged from the long grass round the mud-hole I had one glimpse of his tusks, and, quite satisfied, I took the only chance I was likely to obtain, and fired a half-side head shot. He drew himself up into a bunch of indignant protest, as much as to say, “Who the devil did that?” But a second shot failing to elucidate the matter, he swung round and crashed away across the gully, while number two bolted straight ahead. I rained shot into him while he swerved round and followed in the wake of his companion. Then I dashed along the side of the slope, stumbling, tripping, rolling, and diving over grass that I could not force my way through, till a sudden drop of 10 ft. landed me face first on the bed of a stream, invisible above through the grass, but painfully tangible below. Fortunately my rifle did not suffer proportionately, and scrambling out I reached a small ridge from which I could see my elephant standing about three hundred yards off. Again I fusilladed him till out of range, and then followed, falling twice to the elephant’s once. He was nearly spent, but managed to reach some extra long grass, where I lost sight of him for some time, till at length he crawled out into the shade of a tree under the opposite bank. The gorge was narrow at this point, so that he was not more than one hundred yards off when I reopened the bombardment. For a long time he took the phut-phut of the bullets without showing the slightest emotion. Then suddenly over he went like a tree under the axe. He struggled to his feet once more, only to fall for the last time under the continued hail. Cutting across the dip, I climbed on to the bank about twenty yards above him; but the grass was so dense that I could not see him, although considerably above the level of the tangle where he was lying. His great sobs told me that all was over, and anxious to put him out of his misery, I went down, having to approach within two yards before I could see him, and finished him off with the 10-bore, his head being invisible. To my amazement he had only one tusk, 7 ft. 9 in., and 98 lbs.; and as I was sure that I had seen two tusks, I came to the conclusion that this must be number two, and that number one had dropped at the same time that I did. So following back on the spoor, I came on the other elephant, lying four hundred yards from where I had first hit him, but, lo and behold! he also had only one tusk, 7 ft. 7 in., and 86 lbs. So certain was I of having seen two tusks that I followed his spoor back, thinking that possibly there might have been a third hidden by the grass, but it was not so, and to this day I believe he took the other tusk off and threw it away, as a sort of Jonah! On arriving at camp I found that letters and tomatoes had arrived from Toro. Our pagasi had attempted their old games about three days’ journey south of the Albert Edward and had been attacked with the loss of twenty men, amongst them Sulimani, the root of all the disturbances. His successor in office, who, like other gentlemen of his kidney, combined loudness of talk in times of peace with extraordinary fleetness of foot in times of danger, was the first to bring the news to Toro.
Notes
11 Kuku: native word for fowl.
12 A sort of courier.