June 13, 1SS 5 
THE GRAPHIC 
60s 
A JOURNEY TO MOUNT KILIMA-NJARO, AFRICA 
In Jfonr parts—Part I. 
DRAWN AND WRITTEN BY MR. H. H. JOHNSTON, F.R.G.S. 
CARAVAN lias been toiling on 
across the hot plains of Lanjora 
through the sultry afternoon, 
and now towards evening 
stops to lay down its many 
burdens amid the dusty 
tufts of scorched grass round 
the base of a great mimosa tree. 
Only one hour must we rest, for 
water lies two days behind us and 
one long day’s journey in front, and we 
intend but to stretch our tired legs on 
the lumpy soil until the obscurity pre¬ 
vailing after sunset is dispelled by the 
uprising of the full moon. Then beneath her cooler rays we 
shall journey on towards our goal for half the night, and so be 
spared a longer walk through the heat of to-morrow’s sun. To¬ 
day has been sultry, and, though the rainy season is over, the western 
sky is a mass of lurid clouds, which in one part of the horizon are 
particularly dark and concentrated. I know what causes this, and 
what object these cloud-masses are jealously concealing like the 
courtiers and officials who surround the person of some Eastern 
Emperor; and I, who have journeyed many weary miles to see the 
greatest snow-capped mountain of Central Africa, impatiently long 
for some giant broom to clear the sky of those heavy mists and 
vapours which now hide him from my gaze. 
Slowly a globe of yellow-w'hite rises in the East and mounts into 
the clouds, from whence a softened light descends, and shows the 
track across the plain winding away like a crooked snake towards 
the West. With many an impatient:sigh and grunt the weary men 
take up their burdens, and I, no less tired, but compelled to show 
my porters an encouraging example, stagger on to my blistered feet 
and limp along in front of the caravan, which, once more on the 
move, jogs on with little heart till midnight. Then we can no- 
more ; so, making fires to keep off the wild beasts, we stop to rest 
till dawn. With the falling temperature of the small hours, a brisk 
wind arises from the heated plain and sweeps the clouds from off the 
sky, all except the mass that obstinately clings to Kilima-njaro. 
Feverish and over-tired, I cannot sleep, and sit and watch the 
heavens, waiting for the dawn. A hundred men are snoring around 
me, and the night is anything but silent, for the hyrenas are laughing 
hideously in the gloom outside our circle of expiring embers. At 
five o’clock I wake my servant Virapan (a Tamul boy who has 
accompanied me from Aden), and whilst he is making my matutinal 
coffee I drop into a doze, from which, at dawn, he rouses me, and 
points to the horizon, where, in the North-’.vest, a'strange sight is to 
be seen. “ Laputa ! ” I exclaim ; and as Virapan, though he has 
read 1 ‘ Robinson Crusoe ” and the “ Arabian Nights ” in his native 
tongue, has never heard of “ Gulliver’s Travels,” I proceed to 
enlighten him as to the famous suspended island of Swift’s ima¬ 
gining, and explain my exclamation by pointing to the now visible 
Kilima-njaro, which, with its two peaks of Kibo and Kimawenzi 
and the parent mass of mountain, rises high above a level line of 
cloud, and thus, completely severed in appearance from the earth 
beneath, resembles so strangely the magnetic island of Laputa. 
. Weird is Kilima-njaro in the early flush of dawn, with its snowy 
crater faintly pink against a sky of deep blue-grey, wherein the pale 
and faded moon is sinking, and the stars are just discerniblebut 
watch his movements until the foremost man of the caravan comes 
up, when, taking his Snider from him, I fire it somewhat precipi¬ 
tately at the lion, and, whether from excitement or incorrect aim, 
miss. The lion, who was crawling through the long grass, turns 
round, gazes at me, and trots off; while simultaneously a magni¬ 
ficent sable antelope, who had been grazing in close proximity, and 
whom the lion was evidently stalking, bounds with terrific leaps 
through the tangled bush, and I am left alone on the scene contem¬ 
plating my lost chances somewhat blankly. The fact is, in African 
travel it is not easy to combine the accomplishment of twenty miles, 
A VIEW TOWARDS MACHAME 
as the stronger light of perfect day prevails, and-the-clouds which 
conceal the base of the mountain disappear, its appearance is dis¬ 
appointing. Owing to an atmospheric illusion Kilima-njaro, which 
is in reality about forty miles distant, appears to rise from the plain 
just beyond those distant clumps of trees, and its greater peak of 
snow, so distinctly crater-like in form, together with the lesser and 
more jagged Kimawenzi, are as hard and commonplace in look as 
the cheap Italian water-colour drawings of Vesuvius, charged with 
“body-colour,” and devoid of aerial effect. Kilima-njaro, now, 
is not imposing, and I soon cease to realise its great height 
when it looks not much farther off than the farther groups of trees. 
As the day grows warm it is once more hidden behind layers of 
clouds, and I march on towards my destination somewhat dis¬ 
appointed. 
The country here swarms with game, especially in the neighbour¬ 
hood of Lake Jipe. Herds of hartebeest (Alcelaphus tora), gnu, 
eland, and buffalo defile before us, while the giddy zebras risk their 
lives by galloping up to inspect the passing caravan. The air is full of 
soaring vultures, a sure sign of abundant game, and further, as a 
corollary to the presence of the large herbivora, we soon detect in 
the soft soil the footprints of hyaenas and lions. Just as we approach 
a green mass of bushy trees, to my amazement and surprise a large 
black-maned lion crosses the path not thirty yards off, and what is 
stranger still, appears to take no notice of our coming. I only have 
a bird gun with me, and my servant is unarmed, so I stop still to 
THE LEADER 
walked every day on foot, with exploits of the chase. You leave 
the road just to stalk a group of zebras grazing not more than two 
hundred yards off, and you think if you can only creep up to that 
ant-hill and hide behind it, you will get a splendidly easy shot. 
Well, the ant-hill is reached, but the zebras have moved off a little 
farther, and now there is a stumpy mimosa tree between you and your 
aim. However, it is a matter of a few paces to crawl up to it and 
fire from behind its branches. You reach the tree, and just as you 
are going to raise your gun you crack a dead twig, and the zebras 
move and trot off some distance farther. Now it 
is too long a shot to risk, but as the game is grazing 
peacefully and unsuspiciously again, you may just 
as well creep up a little nearer 
and then fire. So you go 
down on all-fours in the grass 
and crawl along, putting your 
hands invariably down on 
cruel thorns or sharp twigs 
every time they touch the 
ground; your back aches 
with the snake-like posture 
you assume, and when at 
length you cautiously raise 
your head above the grass and 
dare to look frankly before 
you, you find the zebras have 
moved on again, and you 
either crawl after them, in¬ 
fatuated with the love of 
hunting, or in desperation 
foolishly fire ycur gun at a 
distant speck, and of course 
miss, when all that remains 
of the animals you have 
stalked is a light cloud of 
red dust hanging in the hot 
air. And now you become 
fully conscious of how foolish 
you have been to leave the 
caravan. How hot the sun 
is ! And your blistered feet 
ache as you limp back 
through the stubbly grass to 
find the track once more, 
of course tripping up a dozen 
times over unseen-stumps and stones,-and finally 
reaching the road to see your caravan represented 
by a few white specks in the extreme distance, 
these white specks now hurrying on with aggra¬ 
vating speed, just as if they knew you were limp¬ 
ing painfully after them, and wished to pay you 
out for the many times when, they being tired and 
halting, you, burdenless and fresh, had remorse¬ 
lessly driven them on. And so with many sen¬ 
sible reasons you vow that nothing shall tempt 
you from the road again, for, even supposing 
you killed anything, can you stop the caravan.for many hours while 
the meat is cooked and the skin cured? Of course not, why—and 
here you interrupt these reflections by exclaiming excitedly to your 
servant, “ Oh, look here; I can’t stand this.. Give me my gun— 
sh ! don’t you see that kudu antelope —there ! standing under the 
shade of the big tree ; ” and so hurriedly taking aim you fire, and 
oh ! joy, the kudu falls, evidently wounded, but, alas ! not to the 
death, for it is up and off again before your next shot can finish the 
work, and, like an idiot, you forget your sore feet and fatigue, arid 
go racing after it over stocks and stones till once more you find it 
is in vain to combine the cares of a marching caravan and the 
pleasures of the chase. 
However, to return from this digression to the scene of the lion 
arid the sable antelope. When the rest of the caravan has come up 
with me I look at my watch, and find with joy that it is close upon 
midday, the hour for rest and food, so I gladly give the tired men 
the order to halt, and wffiilst my meal is preparing I explore our 
present surroundings. 
For some two days since leaving the mountains of Ta'ita we have 
been crossing a waterless tract with poor herbage of dusty brown, 
or yellow, white, and grey withered trees, and real verdure has 
been denied us ; but now on reaching this point where the lion 
greeted us a change of an agreeable character comes over the 
scene. Tall umbrageous trees cast a welcome shade over the short 
herbage, which is closely cropped like a lawn by the many herds 
of antelopes. The bushes are vividly green, and some of them 
bear tufts of bright-coloured flowers. Many birds frequenting the 
bosky trees attest the proximity of water—we are, indeed, close to a 
little affluent of Lake Jipe—and the feeling that we are now without 
threatened thirst adds to the pleasure of our repose, and promises 
for the future less arduous journeyings. Here, indeed, we are within 
the influence of Mount Kilima-njaro and the area of perpetual 
moisture surrounding its cloud-capped snow' peaks. 
Having rested, and satisfied our imperious appetites, w>e decide to 
push on further so as to reach the town of Taveita by to-morrow 
morning, so we walk on through scenery of increasing verdure, and 
swarming with animal life, till near sunset, when we build a 
“boma,” or circular fence of thorny boughs, and sleep securely 
within, without fearing the possible attacks of Masai or other pre¬ 
datory tribes. 
The next morning, with the snow peak of Kibo fully in view 
against a sky of intense blue, we arrive at the precincts of Taveita, 
and are gladdened by the sight of banana plantations standing out in 
glistening green against the background of stately forest. For some 
mile or two before entering this great rendezvous of East-Central 
African trade the track winds through superb avenues of lofty 
umbrageous trees, and after many days of journeying in a sun- 
scorched wilderness the tired eyes- of the traveller are here refreshed 
by the soft green of the exuberant vegetation, while he no longer 
tramps along a stony road under a blazing sun, but follows a soft 
leaf-covered path plunged in absolute shade. In the near precincts 
of this forest settlement every path cut through the dense and 
impenetrable bush is blocked by a massive barricade of tree trunks, 
with a narrow, delta-like slit in the centre, through which the men 
have to crawl and drag their burdens. There is no one to challenge 
us in this gateway, because the “passport” regulations of Taveita 
have been greatly relaxed of late years, but a few decades back this 
elaborate hindrance to free transit was the only protection the 
wretched Taveitans had against the merciless assaults of the Masai 
robber bands. By erecting these wooden obstructions across the 
only feasible approaches to their forest stronghold they checked the 
impetuous onslaught of the brigands, and were able, moreover, to 
kill many of the bewildered Masai with their guns before these 
people could creep round or destroy the barrier. As the Masai 
never throw their spears, but always use them and all their other 
arms in hand-to-hand conflict, they are naturally at a disadvantage 
when opposed to an enemy who has- entrenched himself behind a 
slight fortification and can use his firearms to advantage. More will 
be said about this when I come to treat particularly of the native races 
THE LIEUTENANT 
of Kilima-njaro ; at present having squeezed through the narrow 
doorway we are standing in Taveita, wffiilst the guns of the caravan 
are announcing to its inhabitants, with many a sonorous boom 
re-echoing through the forest alleys, that strangers are arriving with 
peaceable and friendly intentions, and a wish to trade. As I am in 
the act of crossing a narrow rivulet, by means of the slippery stem 
of a banana that has been thrown across it, I catch sight of the first 
natives, who are on their way to inspect our caravan, and when I 
look up, and they see my white face and strange costume, a glad 
shout of surprise goes up from their wide mouths, and they push 
forward to seize and shake me by the hand. 
Such an unusual and demonstrative welcome gives me a pleasant 
impression of Taveita to commence with, and this, I am glad to 
say, is strengthened as time goes on. Its inhabitants are, however. 
