CHAPTER X 
HOMEWARD BOUND 
We left Avakubi on the 27th of April. We had looked forward 
to the day with pleasurable anticipation as a relief from hot 
marches through tangled foliage, and a pleasanter mode of 
travel in large native canoes. The Ituri, foaming over the 
jagged rocks, rushes wildly through the centre of the village, 
which is picturesquely built up on the river banks. It loses its 
tempestuous character further below and flows along sluggishly, 
under the name Aruwimi, its dark waters forming falls as it 
nears the valley. There its navigability begins anew, and we 
found twenty canoes waiting to carry us to the Congo. 
After three-quarters of an hour’s ride we arrived at Kifuku, 
our point of embarkation. The rocks there jut far out into the 
river, and with the dark waters swirling around them form a 
picturesque feature. The oarsmen bustled about briskly here and 
there, picking up tents and provisions and stowing them in the 
boats. A crowd of folk who had followed us out of curiosity 
loitered round. A few Arabs, the last representatives of that 
arrogant race which once held sway in Africa, greeted us and 
handed us gifts of carved ivory. The terrace-shaped banks 
swarmed with throngs of people, gossiping, chattering, and 
generally making a bedlam of the place with their hubbub as 
the flotilla at length set out. The wildest confusion and most 
deafening din prevailed. All the boats were trying to leave 
at the same moment, and this caused them to jamb against each 
other and crush the occupants, who started yelling. Some of 
the oarsmen who arrived late swung themselves into the first 
canoe that came handy, and jumped from boat to boat wildly 
