ON THE PASS OF KWAZOME 



would be bitten out of its edge a little before sunset. Just 

 before the time of the eclipse, a great bank of cloud rose 

 from the western plains and completely hid the sun from view. 

 I did my best to explain that the piece had been bitten out 

 all the same, but that the cloud had prevented our seeing it. 

 But the men thought this a very lame excuse. I overheard 

 one man say to another : " If Mpokwa ^ could bite a piece out 

 of the sun, he could have kept those clouds out of the way." 

 For some days after this, whenever the sun went behind a cloud, 

 the porters would ask if I were not going to bite a piece out of it. 



Our next camp was on the site of one occupied by Count 

 Teleki on his return march to the coast in 1889, on the 

 summit of the pass of Kwazome (4750 feet), which is named 

 after Kwathome, the chief of the district. We had had a 

 long march, and I therefore made my usual afternoon excur- 

 sion alone. I climbed to the summit of Tututha (6050 

 feet), the ridge that forms the eastern boundary of the pass. 

 From this I had a glorious view to the north-east, over the 

 plain which here runs up to the foot of the Iveti Mountains. 



Next day I explored the ridge of Givoni, which forms the 

 western side of the pass, and had a pleasant climb to the 

 summit (6780 feet) over some rather difficult rocks. I joined 

 my Askari again at a col upon the ridge, which he reached 

 by a path, as he did not care to follow me up the rocks. We 

 then struck straight across country toward the hill of Machakos, 

 swimming two flooded rivers on the way. At one of these, a 

 party of Wa-kamba women was waiting beside the ford for the 

 flood to subside.. I modestly went up stream to find a more 

 secluded point at which to cross ; but as they did not every 

 day have the chance of seeing a white man swim a river, they 

 resolved not to lose their opportunity, and so followed up the 

 opposite bank. So there was nothing for it but to waive 

 prejudice and cross in front of them. It was lucky that they 

 came, for one of my boots fell into the river as I was throwing 

 it across, and had not one of the shameless damsels rescued it, 

 the priceless treasure would have been lost. I almost lost my 

 best interpreter, for my attendant at first refused to cross, as 

 he said the river was full of crocodiles, and that the current 

 was too swift. As he could swim quite as well as I could, I 



^ i.e. "loaded pockets," my native name. 



