A DEPRESSING SCENE 



large swamp right in front of me. It was a real 

 discovery, as it was marked on no map, so I was 

 immensely pleased, and took great pains to fix its 

 position, and that of two smaller ones a little farther 

 on. The first was a huge circular depression, now 

 dry, three miles in circumference, filled with tall 

 elephant grass and surrounded by numerous yak 

 trees. It is known to the natives as Gombe Barsa, 

 and is an important water-hole for the Somali who 

 are trekkingf from the Deshek Wama to the district 

 of Joreh. I attempted to take some photographs, but 

 they were unsatisfactory owing to the thickness and 

 height of the undergrowth. 



After leaving this spot we passed through another 

 broad belt of forest, which gradually grew thinner 

 until we emerged at last into a large open plain 

 covered with very rank grass and dotted with small 

 clumps of stunted grey thorn bushes. The scene was 

 desolate in the extreme ; there was something physic- 

 ally depressing about it, and, though I cannot explain 

 the feeling, even the bush with its big trees and 

 tropical vegetation seemed preferable to the hopeless 

 aridity of this plain. My guide informed me that 

 this was the beginning of Joreh, that land of promise 

 teeming with game— a true hunter's paradise as it had 

 been pictured to me. I did not halt here, but 

 marched on, and soon, much to my disgust, the guide 

 confessed he did not quite know where he was, for 

 he had never been there before, and it was only 

 his cousin who had told him the way. My inability 

 to speak Somali prevented my telHng him what I 

 thought of him, so, leading the way, I struck south- 

 wards across the plain, following an old game trail. 

 We had still three tins of water, sufficient at a pinch 



86 



