CHAPTER VIII

 The Wanderobo—Visit from the Wanderobo chief—Native bartering—A grand meeting of surrounding tribes for blood brotherhood under my auspices—Dancing frenzy—Native ideas of a future life—Again trek for the unknown—Attacked by natives—Chief’s admonition—Decide to visit the Wanderobo chief Olomondo—Wanderobo gluttony—The honey bird—Wanderobo methods of hunting—Massacre of a Goanese safari—My narrow escape—General uprising of hostile tribes—Rise of the Chinga tribe against me—My precarious position—Successful sally and total defeat of the enemy—My blood brother, the Kikuyu chieftain, comes to my aid with thousands of armed men—Total extinction of the Chinga people
During my stay at Wagombi’s another chief turned up, who proved to be a man named Olomondo, chief of the Wanderobo tribe. The Wanderobo are a race of hunters, who live entirely by hunting, and inhabit the country round Mount Kenia and on the great plain adjoining Wagombi’s country, down towards the Guasa Nyero River. Olomondo came to see me, and, according to the custom of the country, brought me a present of honey. It is always customary when making a visit to a stranger to bring a present, and the
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recipient is himself expected to return the compliment by giving a present of at least an equal value to the one he has received. This man was plainly quite a different type of native to Wagombi’s people, being rather sharp-featured and practically the same as the Masai. I found out, in the course of conversation, that his clan numbered about six hundred men, besides women and children, and that their kraal was about two days’ march to the north-west of us. He mentioned the Maswatch-wanya, and told me that in the course of his hunting he had seen these pigmy people, but had never got into communication with them. It was Wagombi’s boast that Mount Kenia belonged to him and the Wanderobo were his people, and joined him if there was a fight. I afterwards found that they were a very timid people, but, judging from the quality of their weapons, I should imagine that they could put up a good fight, Olomondo’s bow and arrows being much larger and stronger than those of the Kikuyu, which were like toys in comparison, while as a proof of their ability to use them, I saw Olomondo put an arrow clean through an antelope as big as a sheep. He invited me out to his camp, saying that he had some ivory for sale, and also saying that there was any amount of game out on the plain, and asking me to go hunting with him. This I promised to do later on. Incidentally, he complained
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of the Kikuyu getting his ivory, as many of the elephants his people wounded strayed away and died in the forest, and the Kikuyu would find their bodies and take the ivory. I told him that I was afraid I could not do anything in the matter, as it was quite impossible to trace the ivory. The Wanderobo knew the commercial value of ivory, and had sold it to the Arab and Swahili traders.
After some discussion it was arranged that Olomondo should make blood brotherhood with me at the same time as the other chiefs, and the difficulty then arose as to where the ceremony should take place. Wagombi, being the biggest chief, naturally wanted it to take place at Mount Kenia, but on messages being sent to Karkerrie and Muga-wa-diga, they refused to come to Wagombi’s, saying that they were enemies of each other, and that they had no guarantee that they would not be murdered on the way. I then suggested to Wagombi that he should send them each a present of a goat or a sheep, but he said that he would sooner eat them himself. He was a bigger man than either of the other chiefs, and it was for them to send him a present first. For some time there was a deadlock, but I finally got out of the difficulty by asking Wagombi if he would give me the presents. He replied, “Certainly, you can have a hundred if you like. My place is yours, take
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anything you want.” I said that I did not want anything out of the ordinary; if he would give me one or two sheep, that was all that I wanted; so he had the sheep brought in. I then said, “All right, you have given me these sheep, I can do anything I like with them.” He replied, “Yes, they are yours, I have given them to you.” So I then told him that I intended to send one sheep to Karkerrie and one to Muga-wa-diga, telling them that they were presents from him and myself, and I also arranged with them that we should meet about half-way, and selected a place for the ceremony. Eventually they all agreed to this and the day was fixed.
The site I had chosen formed a natural amphitheatre, and was a spot I had noted on my way to Wagombi’s from Tato. It was an open space, which I was told was used at certain times as a market-place, and I had an opportunity later on of seeing one of these markets held. On that occasion hundreds of natives collected there for the purpose of exchanging their various goods. The noise of haggling and bargaining was terrific. One thing I noticed was that there was no livestock in the market, but all other kinds of produce were to be seen, and it was amusing to watch a couple of old women arguing as to how many sweet potatoes ought to be exchanged for so many beans. One crowd would have loads of calabashes, while another would be selling
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piles of cooking-pots made of a sort of clay, only to be found in certain parts of the country, which was especially suitable for that purpose; while in another part of the market large quantities of the red ochre—or siriga, as it is called—which the natives used for painting their bodies was to be had. Another peculiar thing I noticed was the selling of the native drink njohi, in exchange for a hornful of which I saw a native pay over a hornful of beans. Having no money, everything was bought and sold by means of a system of barter, which was not accomplished without much arguing and haggling, everybody gesticulating and shouting at once.
 
A GROUP OF WA-KIKUYU PORTERS AND THE AUTHOR
It was on the site of this market-ground that the ceremony of blood brotherhood was to take place, and it was looked upon as a great event in the country, and the occasion for much feasting and rejoicing. Thousands of the natives attended, each chief bringing a large crowd of followers, while all the tribes in the neighbourhood were fully represented, but no women or children were present. Wagombi took quite a large number of his people, and I took the bulk of mine, leaving only a few in charge of the camp; while Olomondo, the Wanderobo chief, had about ten of his men with him. An immense crowd had already gathered when we arrived, Karkerrie and Muga-wa-diga—each attended by hundreds of warriors—having got there in
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advance of us. It was a stirring spectacle to see these thousands of warriors gathered together in all their savage glory, their bodies elaborately painted and oiled, and each man armed with spear and shield, while their dress of skins added to their savage appearance. The natives were for the most part standing about, but a few of the older men were sitting down talking matters over, and our arrival was greeted with shouting and singing. Such an event as this was, of course, entirely new to them, nothing like it having ever taken place before in the Kikuyu country, and as it was through my influence that it had been brought about, I was naturally the centre of interest. I had the union Jack with me as usual, and as we advanced there was a lull in the conversation, and all became quiet and expectant.
Noticing that some had already begun drinking njohi, I advised the chiefs that it would be much better to leave the drinking until their return to their homes, because, as all these natives had previously been hostile to each other, and knowing the native character, I was afraid that they would be getting drunk and starting to quarrel, which would spoil everything. The chiefs readily fell in with my suggestion, and at once put a stop to the drinking. At my suggestion also, all the weapons were placed on the ground, the warriors depositing their swords and spears in
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heaps, which four of my men were told off to guard.
When all the people were grouped round in a circle, with the chief actors in the middle, I addressed them through an interpreter, and explained the object of the gathering, telling them that they were met together on friendly terms to make blood brotherhood with the chiefs of the country, and that it was for this reason that they had been asked to lay aside their weapons. While this was going on a fire had been lighted, and a sheep was brought in and killed. Each chief supplemented what I had said with some words to the same effect—the old witch doctor, Muga-wa-diga, being the most loquacious, and taking full advantage of the opportunity thus afforded him of indulging his vanity—and then the chief orators of the tribes voiced their opinions in turn. During the speech-making the chiefs and myself were grouped round the fire talking together while the process of cooking certain parts of the sheep was going on. The heart and liver were taken out and cut into little pieces, which were then roasted separately on a skewer, carefully cut and shaved clean before the meat was put on, the result being something like the Oriental mutton kabobs.
When the cooking was finished the orators ceased talking, and all attention was turned on us. Olomondo, the hunter chief, was the first
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to take a prominent part in the ceremony. Taking one of his sharp arrows, he made an incision in the flesh of each one who was to be joined in blood brotherhood just above the heart. When this had been done the meat was passed round, each one receiving a piece, which he first rubbed in the blood from the wound made by the arrow, and then handed it to his neighbour, who had already done the same with the meat he had received. The meat was then eaten, and this went on until each one had eaten the blood from each and all in turn. This completed the ceremony, and every one turned to dancing and rejoicing, sheep and goats being killed and roasted, and a big feast was held. In the excitement some of my men lost their heads and started firing their rifles in the air, an incident which nearly precipitated a fight, and threatened to undo all the good that had been done. As soon as I heard the firing I rushed up, and at once realized what had happened; but some of the natives thought there was an intention of foul play and began hunting for their spears, and in spite of my explanation things looked ugly, and it was some time before all were reassured and things calmed down.
I advised the chiefs not to delay too long before returning to their homes, as the temper of the people might change, in which case there would probably be trouble. The natives get very
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excited when dancing, and work themselves into hysterics, when they are not responsible for what they may do. Among my own people I had put a stop to that sort of thing by putting any man who showed signs of getting into that state under restraint at once. Before taking these steps I had seen as many as twenty men at one time all mad with excitement, first one and then another going clean off his head. They would gradually work themselves up into a perfect state of frenzy, until they trembled from head to foot, and after jumping up and down would draw in their breath in great gulps and suddenly grip their spears and run amok. The other natives thought they were possessed of a devil,[14] and
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their method of treating a man so affected was to bear him to the ground by sheer force, and then half a dozen or more would sit on him. I found, however, that a little salutary punishment very quickly cured them of that sort of thing.
14. This devil, whom they called Ngoma, appeared to correspond more to the Christian idea of the devil than is often the case with the deities of savage tribes. The Kikuyu were monotheists, regarding Ngai as a benevolent deity, from whom all benefits came, and to whom they offered sacrifices and paid homage, with a view to favours to come; while Ngoma, on the other hand, was a deity who brought only evil and disaster upon them, and to whom they offered no sacrifices and paid no homage, wherein they would appear to be a good deal more like consistent Christians should be than the majority of the modern professors of that faith, including a good many native clergy, who, in spite of their orders and profession of Christianity, still practise in secret the heathen rites and superstitions of their ancestors.
The Kikuyu are also firm believers in a future life, though possibly from a somewhat materialistic point of view. Their belief is that their “heaven” is situated under the earth, while the abode of Ngoma is above it, and that when they die their spirit goes to the world below, where they will lead a similar life to that which they have left on earth, possessing the same herds of sheep, cattle, and goats as they then had, and being joined again by their wives as they die.
It was pretty late in the afternoon when we left the camp to return to Wagombi’s, after seeing that all the others had started for their homes.
I prolonged my stay at Wagombi’s for some time, and continued to trade in ivory, which, as I have said, I bought at a very cheap rate. I happened to have the right sort of trade goods, and the natives were very anxious to deal. I remember that they took a particular liking for one special fancy cloth that I had, and there was quite a run on it. It was a very gaudy material, in a variety of colours, and after they had wrapped a piece loosely round them, they would run about like children, being delighted to see it fluttering in the wind as it streamed behind them like a huge blanket.
I was told that some natives living more down towards the coast had quite a lot of ivory, and that the trade goods which I had still left with me—chiefly iron and brass wire—would be very
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suitable for trading with them. I also gathered that these people were living in the part of the country where Gibbons’s safari had been cut up, and that if I went there I would have to take every precaution, as I should probably find them hostile. Wagombi agreed to provide me with guides and gave me all the information in his power.
As I was anxious to see the country, and to get into touch with the people with whom Gibbons fared so badly, I arranged to make the journey, and proceeded to get my expedition together. Having buried the ivory I had bought at Wagombi’s, as I had done that at Tato, when all was in readiness I said goodbye to the friendly chief, and once again trekked off to parts unknown.
The country was very much the same as that through which I had already passed, being very hilly and thickly wooded, but the natives had heard of my coming and had evidently no desire to meet me. They had deserted all their villages, and I could not get into touch with them at all, although at different times I got glimpses of some of them on the tops of the hills, and though we shouted to them that we were friends, they would not come near us. As their attitude was threatening, I came to the conclusion that they were enemies of Wagombi, and each night when we camped I took the precaution of erecting a
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boma, and would not allow any man outside the camp unless it was absolutely necessary. The first trouble came when the men went out to get water. We were camped on some high ground at a considerable distance from the river, so I sent a good guard with the party going for water, and as they were returning up the hill I suddenly heard a lot of shouting. Taking some more of my men, I rushed down to see what was happening, and found that the party was being attacked by a big crowd of savages, who were shooting at them with arrows. In this part of the country they use bows and arrows more than spears, and I actually saw some women armed with these weapons and using them as well as the men. Some of the savages had got up in the trees and were firing on my men as they passed beneath, and before we managed to clear them out and drive them away, one of my men had been killed and another wounded by the arrows. Getting back to the camp, we found that it was surrounded by another howling mob of niggers, and we had great difficulty in fighting our way through and getting in. Once safely in the camp, we turned and poured a steady fire into the mass. This fusillade eventually drove them off, though several very ugly rushes were made before they finally gave up the attempt to overpower us.
From the height on which the camp was
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pitched we could see dozens of villages all round us, and it was very evident that the country was very thickly populated; but feeling absolutely safe as long as we stuck together, we were not alarmed at the hostile demonstrations on the part of the natives, who still threatened us from a safe distance, so we slept there that night, nothing happening to disturb our rest, but of course a strict guard was kept.
The next morning the natives again gathered round us; but it was a very half-hearted attack that they made this time, however, as they chiefly contented themselves with shouting insulting remarks at us from a distance, only now and then making a combined rush, which we easily beat off. Not that my men did very much damage, as the native has no idea of shooting straight, and it is very difficult to make them understand the sights of a rifle. My men were all right up to a hundred yards, as I had taught them always to aim low, whereas the native is apt to fire high; while the ordinary native who has had no training with a gun is absolutely useless, generally turning his head the other way when he pulls the trigger.
The natives kept up their hostile attitude for some days, occasionally creeping up and dropping arrows into the camp, while we waited, expecting that they would either make friends or put forth a big effort to wipe us out altogether. Our great
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difficulty was that food was beginning to run short, our supply having been only a small one to start with; so feeling that it was useless to hope to make friends with these people, and that therefore nothing was to be gained by staying there, I decided to trek back to Wagombi’s. Breaking camp, we started back, and although the natives shouted at us from a safe distance, as usual, they made no attempt to cut us off, so we got safely back to our old camp. When Wagombi had heard my account of what had happened, he said that, if I liked, he would muster his people and, as he expressively put it, “go and clear up the whole country.” I thanked him, but declined his kind offer, as I felt that it was taking on too big a job, and I was also anxious to get back to my old quarters at Karuri’s, from which I had now been away about six months. During the time I had been away I had heard no definite news of what was going on there, but it was reported that we were all killed, and that long ago they had given up all hope of seeing us again.
When I declined Wagombi’s offer to make war on the tribe that had attacked us, I told him that my idea was to get on friendly terms with the natives without any shooting or anything of that sort, and after I had explained this to him he was rather disappointed with me, and said, “Why all this humbug? The country is yours.
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What’s the use of humbugging about like a woman?” We had a lot of talk about it, and after a time he gave in and seemed to be convinced, remarking that I was a white man and must know better than he what was the best thing to do.
Olomondo, the hunter chief of the Wanderobo, was still staying at Wagombi’s, but he and his people were getting restless, and wanted to get back to their families. He was anxious that I should accompany him, promising me plenty of ivory and hunting if I would go with him; so, thinking the opportunity of making friends with his tribe, and at the same time securing more ivory, was too good to be lost, I decided to defer my return to headquarters until after I had paid him my promised visit. I had left some good men in charge at Karuri’s, who would be still buying food in my absence, and as I had taken a good supply into the Government stations before I left, I had no fear that they would be running short. I also took into consideration the fact that I was making more money by ivory trading, and this partly influenced me in deciding to accompany Olomondo. In addition to all these reasons I had a strong desire to get more into the wilds and out amongst the game. I was not feeling too well, as the strain of the past few months was beginning to tell on me, and I felt that the change from the thickly-populated
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district to the practically uninhabited country which was the hunting-ground of the Wanderobo would be very welcome.
We had to take a lot of food with us, and every man had to carry a load, as no flour was to be bought from the Wanderobo, who live entirely upon flesh. I also got a few of Wagombi’s people to carry some flour and other things that we should require, but they were to return home when we had decided upon the site for our headquarter camp, as we should make a food station there. Of course, I could have shot plenty of game, but the Kikuyu would not eat it, being in most cases vegetarians.
Having got everything ready for the expedition and said a lot of farewells—Wagombi being very sorry that I was leaving his part of the country—we started off. The first part of our journey led through forest country, and at the end of the first day’s march all signs of human habitation had disappeared, and we camped that night at the edge of the forest, while before us stretched a beautiful park-like country, open plain with patches of forest here and there, which struck me as an ideal district for farming. The change from the thickly populated Kikuyu country and the absence of native villages was most refreshing, and I slept very comfortably that night, with the thought of the prospect before us, and awoke to a cool,
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fresh morning and a beautiful sunrise. Going out of my tent, I revelled in the beauty of the scene spread out before me, and once more experienced the exhilarating feeling of gipsy-like freedom, the liberty to roam where I would at will, hunting the wild game which could be seen in plenty from the door of my tent.
Watering the rich pasture-lands of the plain were numerous cool streams coming down from the mountains, and flowing through the valley to form the Guasa Nyero. All around were the virgin forests, while out on the open plain were many most inviting spots for camping. The whole country was free for us to go wherever we wished, without any fear of interference. One felt that one was in a different world, and wondered how any one who had experienced this sense of freedom from the trammels of civilization could ever wish to go back to the crowded cities, or be cooped up within the four walls of a house. At that moment of exhilaration I certainly did not envy the civilized citizen at home.
After breakfast we set out again on the march, and continued until the heat of the sun began to be oppressive, when we rested for lunch, continuing our journey afterwards through further stretches of most beautiful scenery. Three days’ march from Wagombi’s we came to the village of the Wanderobo, who had been
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warned of our coming by messengers sent on ahead of the caravan. They gave us a friendly welcome, but it was evident that they were a very timid people, and I was convinced that, had Olomondo not been with me, I should never have come in contact with them, as they would certainly have kept out of my way entirely. They seemed a bit scared at seeing so many of my followers, but the chief assured them that there was no cause for alarm. Their kraal was a very primitive affair, being simply a lean-to shed, without the slightest attempt at privacy—all the married men and their wives occupying one portion, and the young men and girls another—while I found them the laziest and dirtiest people I had ever met. They will not go out hunting until they are absolutely starving, and when they have killed some big animal, they simply gorge themselves on it, sitting round it, and never leave the spot until every scrap of the meat has been devoured. I was to have an early example of this practice. I had brought with me ten big bullocks, and, as these people had a fair amount of ivory, they were able to buy the whole lot. To my surprise, no sooner had they got the bullocks into their possession than they killed the whole ten at once, and fires having been lighted, a circle of savages gathered round each bullock, and, as it cooked, cut off huge strips of the flesh and ate them, not moving away
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until each bullock had been absolutely disposed of. A more disgusting spectacle I never witnessed. They live entirely on meat, but have a drink which they make from the wild honey. A remarkable thing in connexion with this honey is that they are often shown where to find it by following a bird, which they call the honey bird. One day, when out hunting, I noticed a small bird of a brownish colour, not much larger than a sparrow, which was twittering on a bush close at hand. Presently it flew towards me, twittering overhead, and afterwards alighted on a tree, still twittering, and the Wanderobo began to talk to it. I had heard of the honey bird before, but this was the first time that I had seen one, and I was very much interested. The natives continued to talk to it, and when it began to fly again, they followed it as it went twittering along, keeping just a little in advance of us, for perhaps a couple of miles, until we came to a hollow tree, where it stopped, and the Wanderobo, saying that we should find some honey there, began chopping the tree away until they found a considerable store of wild honey. After taking the honey out, they gave a certain quantity to the bird—or rather, left some in the tree for it, as they said that if they did not do that, the bird would, on another occasion, lead them on to a dangerous animal or a big snake. Of course this was simply a piece of
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native superstition, which I satisfactorily proved to have no truth in it, as I took the trouble to test it one day when I had followed the honey bird, by taking every bit of the honey to which it led me, without leaving any for the bird. After flying round two or three times, it went twittering on again for another two or three miles, and when it finally stopped, fluttering round a tree as before, I found that it had simply led me to another store of honey; so I disposed of one native belief.
The Wanderobo women were fairly well dressed—in skins—but the men wore hardly any clothing at all. When necessity compels them to move they are fairly good hunters, and will creep up to within ten yards of an elephant, to spear it. The spear is fashioned something after the manner of a harpoon, the head being fixed to the shaft in such a way that, on striking the elephant, it becomes detached, and remains in the wound, while the shaft falls to the ground. It would not, of course, be sufficient to kill an elephant but for the fact that it is poisoned; and even then the elephant will often travel a considerable distance before succumbing to the poison. Singularly enough, the poison used appears only to affect the part immediately in the neighbourhood of the wound, and when this has been cut out, the natives eat the remainder of the flesh with perfect safety. Of course, as
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I mentioned before, the Wanderobo do not get the benefit of all the elephants they wound fatally, as many of the wounded animals manage to wander too far away into the forest to be tracked before they die, and any one finding them gets the benefit of the ivory.
 
A DEAD RHINO
The Wanderobo are very skilful with the bow and arrow, and can easily send an arrow right through a buck at fifty yards’ range, while their method of hunting these animals is distinctly novel. Taking a donkey, they fix a pair of horns to its head, and having carefully marked it with charcoal, to make it look as much like an ordinary buck as possible, they then crawl up on the lee side of it until they get close up to the game, which falls to an easy shot. The donkey seems to know the business, and is a very clever decoy.
I learned during my stay that some of the Wanderobo had once mustered up courage to attack some Swahili, whom they had murdered, some of the tribe giving my men the details of their treachery; but, as a rule, they were much too timid to engage in anything of the sort.
One peculiar point about these people was that they all seemed to have a cast in the eye, which I was a good deal puzzled to account for. Whether the meat diet on which they lived so exclusively had anything to do with it, or whether it was owing to their dirty habits—and
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they certainly were most abominably dirty—I cannot say; but the peculiarity seemed almost universal in the tribe.
I made my camp at a good distance from the village, to escape the unpleasant odour of the decaying meat which was left about, and to escape the vermin, as their huts simply swarmed with fleas, and I well remember the first time that this was brought to my notice. I had been going through the village, and found my clothes covered with what I at first took to be grass seeds; but what was my disgust to find, when I attempted to brush them off with my hand, that I was literally alive with fleas!
Like all the natives, the Wanderobo are very superstitious, and if, on one of our hunting trips, we should happen to come across the carcass or skull of an elephant, every one of them would spit on it, at the same time plucking a handful of grass, and placing it on the animal’s head, and saying “Ngai” as they did so. This they believed would bring them luck in their hunting. They also were firm believers in the power of human beings to make rain, and in this connexion I had a rather amusing experience. Going down to the river one day for a bathe, I noticed some quartz, which I thought was likely to carry gold; so, selecting some pieces, I was pounding them up and washing them, to see if there really was any gold in it, when, chancing
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to look up, I saw quite a number of the Wanderobo, hidden in the bush, peering at me in a very curious fashion. I paid little attention to the incident at the time, and after my bathe went back to the camp, as usual. Some few days afterwards we had a shower of rain, and Olomondo and some of the other natives came to thank me for making it rain. I was, naturally, surprised, and said: “You need not thank me; I know nothing about it”; but they said: “Oh, yes, you do; you can’t deceive us, as we saw you making the rain the other day, in the river.” It is just the same if you do anything which appears to them to be out of the ordinary—they at once think that you are “making magic.”
I had a splendid time hunting with these people, and nearly every day, towards evening, I went out to shoot food for them, the country being like a large zoo, simply full of every kind of African game you can think of, including huge herds of zebra, giraffes, elephants, lions, hartebeest, eland, waterbuck, and occasional herds of buffalo—enough, in fact, to delight the heart of the most enthusiastic hunter. I shot several elephants, besides innumerable smaller game, and two lions—which animals the Wanderobo do not kill, since, as they cannot eat the meat, they do not consider them worth the trouble of killing. During our hunting together they killed some elephants, and it was
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agreed that when an elephant was killed, they should take one tusk and I the other, and I eventually used to get both by trading.
One of their methods of catching elephants and other animals was by the use of pits, which were dug wedge-shaped, so that when the animal fell in, it could not turn round or move, and therefore had no chance of getting out again; while, in some cases, sharp stakes were placed, point upward, at the bottom, with the object of impaling any animal that should fall in. These pits were so cleverly concealed that one had to be very careful not to fall into them oneself: the mouth being generally covered with sticks laid crosswise, with dry grass on the top. They had quite a lot of these pits, and caught a good deal of game by means of them.
While out hunting one day, I heard shots fired at a distance, and thinking it might be some white men, I sent some natives to find out, and gave them a note to carry to the strangers. They came back saying that they had seen two white men, and given them the note. As there was no answer, my own idea was that my messengers had got close up to the strangers, and then become afraid—possibly at the men themselves, but most likely on account of the note, which they regarded as some kind of fetish. I found out later that the strangers were two Germans, a Dr. Kolb and a Lieutenant, who were out
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hunting. Dr. Kolb was afterwards killed by a rhinoceros, and his grave, right away on the Guasa Nyero, is marked by huge heaps of stones. I passed it on my trip to Abyssinia, at a later period of my travels.
I stayed some months hunting with the Wanderobo, and so fascinating was the wild, free life, that I could scarcely tear myself away from it; while my followers, who shared the same feeling, had become so friendly with the Wanderobo that some of them had fallen into the habit of eating meat, a thing which they had never done before. This caused a lot of chaff in the camp, and some of their comrades began to call them Wanderobo, which is a term of contempt among the Kikuyu, as the word means a man without anything, a wanderer without any possessions—which fairly describes the tribe in question.
The incident of the note sent to Dr. Kolb was recalled to me some days later, when Olomondo presented himself at my tent, and said that if I would give him some “medicine,” he would give me some ivory; as he believed that, if he got the medicine, it would enable him to kill more elephants, while he himself would be safe from being killed. When I asked him what sort of medicine he wanted, he said “the same as I had sent to the white men.” I gathered from him that, before I sent the note to them,
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they had had bad luck, but that afterwards they had killed a lot of game: so I gave the chief a piece of paper, but he was not satisfied until I had written something on it. Not knowing what to write, I lapsed into rhyme (?), and Olomondo departed the proud possessor of a poetical effusion, of which the following is a sample:—
“I am chief of the Wanderobo hunters.
Olomondo is my name,
Elephants I kill by the hundreds,
And thousands of smaller game.
I am up in the morning so early,
With my bow and arrows so sharp;
Over rivers I glide like a fairy,
Over mountains I fly like a lark.”
There were a number of verses in this strain, but this specimen will suffice. Olomondo took the paper, and after wrapping it up carefully, put it in a skin pouch, which he tied round his neck. I may say that it must have been very good medicine, for after that Olomondo had much better luck with his hunting than before—possibly he had so much faith in its powers that he went about his hunting with greater confidence. Later on, it so happened that a Government official got hold of this production, and it created a lot of amusement. I don’t know how it came about, but doubtless the chief met
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the official when out hunting, and asked him for some medicine, at the same time showing him the paper. As I had not been heard of for about twelve months at the Government station, it was reported that I had been killed; but when they saw this paper, the joke went round that I was not killed, but was living somewhere around Mount Kenia, writing poetry for the savages.
At last I absolutely had to get away, as I had bought all the ivory the natives had, and I was getting anxious to see how things were going on in the Kikuyu country; so, after many goodbyes, and promising to come back, I left my blood brother and his friends and started for Wagombi’s country.
Arriving at Wagombi’s village without any special incident on the journey, I received a very friendly welcome from the chief, and found that nothing serious had happened in my absence, while the natives all seemed to be on friendly terms. Having picked up the ivory I had buried, I was soon on the march again for Tato, and it was quite a pleasure to see my people and Wagombi’s all shaking hands like brothers instead of flying at one another’s throats. This friendship was soon to be put to the test, though we had as yet received no warning of the impending trouble.
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The same friendly feeling was shown when we arrived at Tato, and it was difficult to believe that only a few months before one tribe was fighting against the other and both were the bitter enemies of my people. I had persuaded Wagombi to send a present of sheep to Karuri, and got the chief Karkerrie, at Tato, to do the same, knowing that the exchange of presents was the surest way to maintain a friendly understanding between the different chiefs. Then, collecting the other ivory we had buried there, we were soon on the march again.
Just after leaving Tato the rumour reached me that three Goanese had been murdered and all their safari wiped out. I gathered that it was a trading safari that had started out from Nairobi, headed by three Goanese, who had with them about forty Kikuyu natives from among some living near Nairobi. They had entered the Kikuyu country, and had been well treated by the natives whom I had got under control, having a really good time until they had entered the Chinga country. It will be remembered that these were the only natives I had never really got into touch with. We had passed through their country just after leaving Karuri’s, and for the most part they kept out of my way. As I mentioned previously, some of these people came into my camp, and I had intended to make blood brotherhood—or rather Pigasangi—with
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them on my way back. The Goanese, having had a good time at Karuri’s, had, perhaps, not reckoned on the other natives being different, and consequently had not taken proper precautions. They were well armed—about fifteen of the natives carrying rifles, beside themselves—but in spite of this the Chinga people had for some reason attacked them and murdered the whole party. This was the disquieting rumour that reached me soon after leaving Tato, though I must confess that I did not put much faith in it, as so many similar rumours had been spread about myself having been killed, and I had learned not to trust every report that I heard. I thought, however, that the Goanese might be in some difficulty, and perhaps had some of their men killed; so I hurried up to see if I could give them any assistance; but the nearer I got to the scene of the alleged massacre the more convincing were the statements of the natives as to the truth of the stories which I had heard.
I did not call at Muga-wa-diga’s, as I had done on my outward journey, but took a shorter route to Bartier’s, and when nearing his village did a very foolish thing, which might easily have cost me my life, and, indeed, probably would have done so, but for the extraordinary instinct of my mule.
Being anxious to meet Bartier to get confirmation of the statements I had heard from
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the natives, and as it was getting late in the afternoon, I left my men and hurried on ahead. I had never done such a thing before, but it must be remembered that I was carrying with me an immense quantity of ivory—practically every man being fully loaded up with it—and my anxiety about the Goanese had shaken me out of my usual caution. Taking with me only one askari, my gunbearer, an interpreter, and the boy who looked after my mule, I went on, telling the rest to follow me as quickly as possible to Bartier’s. My men knew what had happened, and I told them to be very careful; but still, being in a friendly country, I thought that there could be no harm in pushing on ahead by myself. The path ran between two hedges, which separated it on either side from the cultivated patches of the natives. Suddenly, as I galloped forward, all at once my mule showed a disinclination to proceed along the path, and seemed to want to get off the road into the cultivated patches. This curious behaviour would at any other time have roused my suspicions, but though puzzled to account for the mule’s peculiar conduct I did not attach any special reason to it; and, finding that it would not go along the path, I let it have its own way, and turned into the shamba, when it ran along without any further trouble. I galloped along in the gardens for some distance, near the footpath, and had not
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gone more than a mile when the mule, of its own accord, returned to the road, and I arrived at Bartier’s without further incident about five o’clock. The whole village was in a state of excitement, and I quickly received confirmation of the murders, the natives being full of it and appearing terribly afraid that the Chinga people would attack them immediately because I was there. The Chinga people were their neighbours, and the Goanese who had been murdered being, to the native idea, white men, were said to be my brothers. Hitherto many of the natives had believed that it was impossible to kill a white man, and this idea had, to a great extent, kept me free from attack. But now they said that they had killed my brothers, and were only waiting for an opportunity to kill me as well.
Bartier and his people assured me that they were absolutely friendly to me, and that I could rely upon them. It was the Chinga people, with the natives from a part called Mahigga, together with some from a district lying more to the east of us, under the control of my old enemy, the chief rain-maker, who had joined their forces against the Goanese, and I had no doubt that the rain-maker had had as much, and more, to do with the matter than any one else. From what I could make out there must have been some thousands of natives in the business, and they had completely wiped out the traders’ safari and
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taken everything they possessed—trade goods, some cattle they had with them, and everything that was worth looting.
Whilst Bartier was explaining all this to me, two of the four men who had started out with me ahead of the main body of my followers arrived in the village. I had outdistanced them on my mule, and had been feeling some anxiety for their safety. When I saw that there were only two of them, I immediately inquired what had become of the others. It was evident from the state of excitement they were in that something had happened, and they at once told me that their two companions had been killed. Their story confirmed the suspicion which had been growing in my mind that an ambush had been set for me at the place where my mule had refused to keep on the road, and it was no doubt due to the animal’s instinct that I had not been killed myself, as my men had kept to the road and so fallen into the ambush. They were going along, they said, when a number of men rushed out on them, and before they knew what was really happening two of their number had been killed. The two who had escaped could only tell me that they had been attacked by a number of Kikuyu on the war-path, who, rushing out on them, had speared the others and then cleared off, while they had picked up the rifles of the murdered men and come on to Bartier’s as fast as they could.
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I saw that things were looking pretty bad, and quickly concluded that the men in ambush were some of the party who had taken part in the murder of the Goanese; but whether they were merely a scouting party, spying out my movements, who had got a bit excited and started too early, or whether they had planned to kill me and throw suspicion on Bartier, I could only guess. Bartier assured me that it had not been done by any of his people, and I was quite prepared to believe him, being fully convinced in my own mind that it was the act of some of the Chinga people.
As soon as I had gathered all the details from my two followers I asked Bartier to send out a few of his people to meet my caravan coming along, to tell them of what had happened, and to warn them to be very careful; also, if the two men who had been ambushed were not dead, to bring them in with them, and this he readily agreed to do. My men were not very far behind, and the caravan shortly afterwards arrived, bringing with them one of the men still alive. He had had two or three spears thrust right through his back. He was not yet dead, and I did all I possibly could for him, but he was past human help, and, after confirming the story which the others had already told me, he died in an hour or two.
As soon as the caravan arrived we at once
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set to work to build a boma, and I realized that I was now in about the tightest corner I had ever been in. With all these men of the Goanese safari murdered, the country was in a state of ferment, and thousands of armed men on the war-path all round us, so that the prospect was not the most cheerful, and I could see that I was in for a rough time, and how I was going to get out of it I could not imagine. As I have already said, I had such an immense amount of ivory that I could only just get along, and it was not likely that I should be disposed to abandon it, after all the months of trouble and worry it had cost me to collect—living entirely among savages, and never seeing a white face for twelve months. At any rate, I meant to make a good fight for it, and determined, if it were at all possible, to win my way out, though I knew that these people, who had already dipped their hands in the blood of my white brothers—as they imagined them to be—would do their utmost to blot me out, if only for the sake of the quantity of loot which they would get.
The next step to building the boma was to bury the ivory, and having made this as secure as possible for the present, I cheered everybody up by telling them that we should get through all right—that we had not been travelling in the country for so long to be afraid now.
It was soon evident that information of our
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arrival had spread through the hostile tribes, whose war-cries could be heard on every side, while bands of warriors could be seen gathering all round us, and the whole country was soon alive with armed natives, yelling their war-cries and shouting what they would do to me when they got me. They looked upon the Goanese, who wore European dress, as being the same as myself, and, having had a comparatively easy victory over them, they confidently expected to dispose of me without very much trouble, announcing that they were fully determined to kill me as, they said, they had killed my brothers. Some of the natives had dressed themselves in the clothes of the ill-fated Goanese, and proudly paraded themselves in front of my camp, while others were firing off the guns they had taken in the loot. For the time being, however, they kept at a respectful distance, and we went on strengthening our defences; but it made my blood boil when I saw that they had cut off the heads of the murdered men and stuck them on poles, which they were carrying about as trophies. I knew what my fate would be if I were unlucky enough to fall into their clutches, while my anxiety was increased by the fact that our stock of ammunition was running very low, as we had been away from headquarters so many months and hunting so much that we had used it nearly all up.
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As far as I could learn, the Chinga people could muster about five thousand fighting men, reckoning in the other tribes who were standing in with them, and the only course open to me was to stand on the defensive. Bartier promised to give me all the help he could, but I could see that his people were terribly afraid, and I could quite understand their feeling, as, if they befriended me, and it should so happen that the Chinga people wiped me out, then they would be in for it. Bartier did, however, give me all the information he could, and assisted me as much as I could reasonably expect from him under the circumstances. At the same time, I could see that he was badly frightened, which, perhaps, was only natural, seeing that the other side were so strong, and seemed quite determined to carry things on to the bitter end. They had already commenced hostilities by murdering my two men, and, fired by their success in wiping out the other safari, were burning to get at me. Since the wholesale murder of the Goanese and their followers they had been rejoicing and feasting and drinking a lot of njohi, and now they were dancing about in paroxysms of mad fury, all alike being possessed with the war fever and ready at any moment to break loose upon us, while we could only wait their first move and take every precaution we could think of.
We were camping right on the boundary of
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the two countries, and could plainly hear them shouting, so I sent out some of Bartier’s men, with some of my own, to scout, with orders to hang about in the bush and in the shambas and try to find out what the plans of the enemy were. About midnight news was brought in that a large force of natives was gathered in one of the clearings about a mile from camp, where they usually held their war-dances, and were drinking and feasting and discussing how they should attack us. This threw all the people about us into a state of panic, expecting every minute that the crowd assembling in the clearing would be rushing down on us, though I knew that this would be a most unusual thing for them to do, as savages very rarely rush a camp at night, usually reserving their attack till dawn; still, having had such success before, and having been drinking, I thought that there was a reasonable possibility that they might depart from their usual rule on this occasion. Of course, sleep was out of the question, and everybody had to stand to arms. A large number of Bartier’s people were in my camp, and every one was in a state of nervous expectancy. Eventually a dead silence reigned, the effect of which, when surrounded by a host of armed foes, I have endeavoured to describe before. I had experienced the same feeling during the night we were surrounded by the natives at Tato. The feeling of depression
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was almost unbearable, and was not lessened by the loneliness of my position, out in the midst of a wild country, far removed from any white man, waiting in momentary expectation of the rush of a frenzied horde of yelling savages thirsting for the blood—and loot—of the white man who had so far defied all attempts to blot him out, and seemed only to gain fresh power in the country after every attempt that was made against him. The situation was nerve-trying in the extreme, and after an hour or so of waiting in this horrible silence I wanted to shout in sheer desperation or do anything rather than endure the inactivity any longer. I felt the responsibility for the safety of the followers I had brought into this position and the risk of losing the whole fruits of my twelve months’ trying experiences, and could not sit still, but had to keep moving about. Even the movement did not serve to relieve the tension, and I felt that if I did not do something quickly I should be getting hysterical, so I quickly decided to put into action an idea which had been gradually forming in my brain of giving my friends the enemy a surprise, instead of waiting for them to try to give me one.
I at once gave orders for big fires to be made up and for everything to be done which would give the appearance of the camp being occupied by the whole of my force, and then, leaving
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only a few men in charge of the camp, I mustered the remainder and stole quietly out, my men being fully armed, to pay a visit to the meeting in the clearing where the enemy were said to be holding their consultation—my object being to teach them such a lesson that they would hesitate to make war on me again. The enemy had evidently never imagined that we should venture to attempt to turn the tables on them in this manner, and in the darkness we managed to creep right up to the edge of the clearing without being discovered, as they had not thought it necessary to put any sentries out. Here we found the warriors still drinking and feasting, sitting round their fires so engrossed in their plans for my downfall that they entirely failed to notice our approach; so, stealthily creeping up till we were close behind them, we prepared to complete our surprise. The moment had come to deal them a crushing blow. Not a sound had betrayed our advance, and they were still quite ignorant of our presence almost in the midst of them. The echoing crack of my rifle, which was to be the signal for the general attack, was immediately drowned in the roar of the other guns as my men poured in a volley which could not fail to be effective at that short range, while accompanying the leaden missiles was a cloud of arrows, poured in by that part of my force which was not armed with rifles.
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The effect of this unexpected onslaught was electrical, the savages starting up with yells of terror in a state of utter panic. Being taken so completely by surprise, they could not at first realize what had happened, and the place was for a few minutes a pandemonium of howling niggers, who rushed about in the faint light of the camp fires, jostling each other and stumbling over the bodies of those who had fallen at the first volley, but quite unable to see who had attacked them; while, before they had recovered from the first shock of surprise, my men had reloaded, and again a shower of bullets and arrows carried death into the seething, disorganized mass. This volley completed the rout, and, without waiting a moment longer, the whole crowd rushed pell-mell into the bush, not a savage remaining in the clearing that could get away, and the victory was complete. For the time being we were masters of the situation, only a number of still forms and a few wounded being left of the thousands who had filled the clearing a little while before, and we returned jubilant to our camp.
As may be imagined, our success was a great relief to me, and I reckoned that I had taught them a lesson which would make them hesitate before interfering with me again: so leaving my buried ivory, I started off the next morning in an attempt to get through to my headquarters, feeling sure
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that Karuri must, by this time, have heard of my position, and would send out a force to meet me. Our advance was made with the utmost caution: halting every few minutes to search with our eyes the scrub on either side of the path for any signs of a lurking foe, and keeping our guns ready to fire at the sight of an enemy, we went slowly on until we entered the Chinga country. Skirting the edge of one of the hills, our way led through a large patch of thick grass, some seven or eight feet high—an ideal place for an ambush—and I felt that if we got safely through this there was little else to fear. Step by step we proceeded, going dead slow, and making scarcely a sound; but we had not gone far before we instinctively felt that our enemies were hidden in the long grass around us, and our suspicions were soon confirmed. A black form was seen for a second, and instantly disappeared. Then shots were fired, and spears and arrows began to whizz about our heads, and before we had gone many yards farther, the grass around us became alive with savages. Whenever one showed himself, we fired, and then suddenly, the grass became animated on all sides, swayed and parted, and the horde of yelling black demons was on us. We were fighting at close quarters, and soon every man had his work cut out to defend himself. I was loading and firing from the hip, as fast as I could throw out
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the empty shells and shove fresh cartridges into the breech. It was a critical moment, and it looked very much as though it was all up with us. So closely were we being pressed that one of the savages had his spear poised over my head, and the muzzle of my rifle was pressed against his body when I fired. My first shot seemed to paralyse him, for while he had plenty of time to plunge his spear into my body he failed to do so, and I had plumped two or three bullets into him before he gave a jump into the air, and toppled over dead. My followers were all equally hard pressed, and on all sides was a writhing mass of black forms, all fighting like devils. We were in a valley, closed in by rugged hills, and chancing to look up, I saw that the top of the mountain above us was black with niggers, who were evidently only waiting to see how those below fared before making a final rush, which must have swamped us; so I immediately shouted to my men to charge up the hill, thinking that if we waited much longer they might suddenly decide to sweep down on us, when our last chance of getting away would be gone. We had by this time stopped the rush of those in the valley, and now, taking the offensive, we fought our way through them up the mountain-side; but when the force on the top saw us coming, they at once turned and bolted, rushing helter-skelter down the other side
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of the hill. We had had a marvellous escape, and though we had had several casualties, we had come out of the affair with much smaller loss than might have been expected. I saw that it was useless to try to get through to Karuri’s now, as we should have had to fight every foot of the way, and had practically no chance of winning through; so we returned to Bartier’s.
By this time the news had spread through the country, and Wagombi and Karkerrie had heard of my trouble, and had sent some men to help me, with a promise of more if I needed them. The whole country was thrown into a state of excitement: the war fever was at its height: but my blood brothers had rallied nobly to my help, and big forces of armed warriors were coming in every hour from the different friendly chiefs to support me, until I had a force of several thousands of the finest fighting men in the country camped at Bartier’s.
I was considerably alarmed at the turn events had taken, especially as the chiefs were determined to have it out, and threatened to clean up the whole Chinga country: while the hostile natives had, in the meantime, collected more followers, having received reinforcements from some of the other tribes living to the east; so that I could see that it was absolutely useless to try to make peace until they had had a tussle. The people who had come to help me
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were also red-hot for war, and scenes of the wildest enthusiasm prevailed in the camp of my force. Giving way to their savage nature, they danced themselves into the wildest passion, numbers of them going into hysterical fits, and jabbing their spears into the tree-trunks in imitation of killing their enemies, while their breath sobbed out in great gulps. It was a remarkable outburst of savage, uncontrolled passion, which I was helpless to check.
When the time for action came, this army of warriors swept through the Chinga country from one end to the other, destroying the villages, and wiping out of existence all who opposed them. It was some time before peace could be restored, and when that time came the Chinga people, as a force to be reckoned with in the country, had ceased to exist.