6o6 
THE GRAPHIC 
June 13, 1885 
not only remarkable for their bonhomie and kindly disposition, but 
present other notable characteristics which are not long in impressing 
THE RIVER HABARI 
themselves on my observation. Firstly, their hair is generally worn 
in long strings, where the wool is stiffened with fat and red clay into 
a number of rats’ tails. There are generally one or two incisors 
knocked out in the upper jaw, the 
lobes of the ear are enormously dis¬ 
tended with wooden cylinders or rings, 
and lastly, the Wa-taveita, like most 
of the natives of Inner Eastern Africa 
{and unlike those of the West), are 
totally ignorant of what we call 
decency. I would like to express 
this more delicately by saying that 
they were innocent of all clothing, but 
this would not be the case, as many 
of the inhabitants wore cloth, or skins, 
round their shoulders, either for 
adornment or when the weather was 
chilly with breezes blowing off the 
snow-capped mountain. 
I feel at home with the Wa-taveita 
from the first, for they are thoroughly 
conversant with Swahili, the coast 
language—the French of Eastern 
Africa, and as I also know this tongue 
we have at once a medium of ready 
communication. So the natives who 
have come to meet our caravan, and 
trot along by my side to direct me to 
the accustomed camping place, chat¬ 
ter as we go, and not only ask for, 
but impart, information. One of the 
first questions is “What is your 
name, White man?” “Johnston.” 
“Jansan?” they shriek, laughingly. 
“Why you must be Tamsan’s 
(Thomson’s) brother.” (Mr. Joseph 
Thomson, on his way to Masai-land, 
had passed through Taveita, leaving a 
very pleasant impression behind him. 
As by an odd coincidence we were 
bofh white, and our names, in the 
natives’ pronunciation, only differed 
in the initial consonant, the evident 
inference was that, to use the na¬ 
tives’ phrase, “We were of one 
mother. ”) It would be of so little use trying to disabuse them of 
this happy and likely idea that I accept tacitly the suggested 
relationship, and it is soon noised about Taveita that Bwana 
Tamsan’s brother is come, and many of Thomson’s old friends 
flock to greet me. 
Our camp is established in one corner of a vast clearing, nearly 
square in shape, whereon certain Swahili traders, cn route to Masai- 
land, have built a temporary and straggling village of palm-thatched 
huts to accommodate their wives and concubines during their 
absence in the wilds. As soon as my tent is up, and my goods are 
properly stored and placed under the supervision of a trusted man, 
a food allowance is measured out to the hungry porters of the cara¬ 
van. That is to say, a bale of cloth is unpacked, and each man 
receives three ells (or “hands,” as they are here called) of white 
American sheeting, which is to purchase him sufficient food for 
three days. After the distribution of cloth the men disperse for the 
rest of the day to forage in the Taveita market, and I am free to 
attend to my own affairs and to receive my new acquaintances. 
Firstly, however, the tent is closed, and I have a good and much- 
needed bath, for almost since leaving the coast water has been so 
precious that we have feared to lavish even a teacup-full on the 
toilet. But here we have a glorious running river, crystal clear, and 
cool; and were it not for the incon¬ 
venient publicity which a dip in the 
stream itself would occasion at this mo- 
ment, I should strongly prefer it to a V' 
cramped bath in the hot tent. Never¬ 
theless, a wash of any kind and a complete 
change of clothes are very refreshing, and 
when once more my tent door is thrown 
open to the throng, and I appear before the 
Elders of Taveita seated on my camp chair, I feel sure my white 
face is several shades lighter than on my arrival. This little colony 
of quiet agriculturists, known as Taveita, is unlike the neighbouring 
States in being a Republic, or Commonwealth, administered rather 
than ruled by an oligarchy of four or five important men known 
as the “Wa-zee,” or Elders. There are really two entirely 
distinct races inhabiting Taveita—the Wa-Kwavi, a tribe of 
settled Masai who have turned from lawless robbers into 
honest, thrifty tillers of the soil, and the Wa-taveita proper, a 
people of Bantu stock, allied in origin to the Wa-Kamba farther 
•North and the Wa-chaga of Kilima-njaro. The Wa-taveita 
predominate over the AVa-Kwavi in numbers, and the Elders 
are mostly of the former stock. These functionaries have come 
to greet me with little gifts and offerings such as they deem most 
acceptable to me, and, of course, expect an equivalent present on 
my part. One man has brought a baaing reluctant sheep, and tied 
it to the tent pegs. Another thrusts into my lap a couple of fowls, 
strongly fastened together by the legs, but otherwise not disturbed 
in equanimity, for they peck inquiringly at the buttons of my jacket. 
A third member of the 
Taveitan Legislative Coun¬ 
cil points to a basket of 
corn cobs as his donation, 
and so on. Each in return 
receives about twice the 
value of his free-will offer¬ 
ing in cloth and beads, and, 
I am sorry to say, in ac¬ 
cordance with African cus¬ 
tom, they at first affect to 
be dissatisfied with the re¬ 
turn-gifts, and try to haggle 
for an increase, but finding 
this “try on” of no avail, 
immediately resign them¬ 
selves to the inevitable, and 
march off very contentedly 
with what they can get. 
The remainder of the day 
is utilised by the men in 
buying food, while I avail 
myself of the unwonted rest 
to recruit my strength, and 
so do nothing in the way of 
active exertion beyond skin¬ 
ning a few birds. 
About half-past 7 A.M. 
on the morrow we resume 
our journey towards Kili- 
I am going to establish myself at the Court of 
chief of Moshi, a State on the southern flank of 
THE STRANGE CREEPER 
ma-njaro 
Mandara 
the mountain. Mandara is almost the only man in this country 
known by report to Europeans on the coast. He has sent letters to, 
and exchanged presents with, Sir John Kirk, and has seen, perhaps, 
each of the four or five Europeans who have ever approached 
Kilima-njaro. The way to his country lies first west then north- 
THE FIRST VIEW OF KILIMA-NJARO 
west of 
Taveita, and 
the distance to be tra¬ 
versed is some twenty- 
seven miles. 
After leaving our camp 
we first have to cross the 
River Lumi, over which a 
curious bridge is thrown. 
Some years ago the Wa-taveita were much inconvenienced by 
repeated floods, which rendered their river (fed from the snows of 
Kilima-njaro) dangerous or impossible to ford, 
and consequently cut off one half of the 
colony from communication with the other. 
The idea of bridging this five- 
yard-wide rivulet was too diffi¬ 
cult for the native mind, 
so the elders of Taveita 
contracted with a 
Swahili trader to do 
the job. The price was 
to be a bullock. The 
trafficker in ivory and 
slaves was not long in 
his operations. Select¬ 
ing one of the finest and 
straightest trees grow¬ 
ing on the summit of 
the river bank, he set 
to work with his fol¬ 
lowers, and with repeated chops severed its trunk near the base. 
SABLE ANTELOPE 
THE MKUYUNI STREAM 
Leaving the river we walk for about two miles through very mag¬ 
nificent forest, where Raphia palms reach a great development ; 
next we emerge abruptly on an 
unattractive wilderness of low thorny 
shrubs and coarse grass. The 
land rises gently before us towards 
the huge mass of Kilima-njaro, which 
is at present screened with louring 
clouds. In the middle distance, are 
broken chains of jagged hills, inter¬ 
spersed with isolated hillocks and 
mounds of conical shape, suggest¬ 
ing the idea that when the great 
discharge of eruptive matter from the 
two huge volcanoes of Ivibo and 
Kimawenzi was temporarily or per¬ 
manently checked, the sick earth 
broke out all over the irritated sur¬ 
face with minor pustules and pimples 
through which the disturbing matter 
was discharged, the present aspect 
of the mountain and its vicinity being 
the result of the scars and hardened 
scabs of these now healed-up earth- 
boils. We walk for some ten miles 
over an unattractive country devoid 
of water, and little better than 
desert. The hills are sparsely over¬ 
grown with sad, grey-looking trees, 
almost leafless or else sprinkled 
with scanty foliage of an olive- 
green. In the rolling plains at their 
base there is little to break the monoto¬ 
nous yellow of the withered grass. Now and 
then a Bauhinia shrub or stunted tree, with its bifid 
leaves that afford as little shade as the poor foliage of the 
eucalyptus, or a thorny mimosa with flattened crown and red trunk, 
like a conventional tree from a child’s box of toys ; or, lastly, a few 
inconspicuous nameless shrubs, with leaves of a shiny grey colour, 
like those of most plants living in semi-desert countries. Once or 
twice we cross the dry bed of a torrent and find therein a more varied 
but scarcely more pleasing vegetation. Rampant euphorbias, with 
fleshy, snake-like, coiling stems armed with horrid spikes, trail 
themselves triumphantly over unresisting shrubs; acacias, which 
from sheer viciousness have almost done without leaves to bestow 
all their productive powers on the development of terribly efficacious 
thorns, throw out their cruel grappling-hooks over the path and rip 
up our faces, hands, or clothing as we pass. Other plants of the lily 
tribe (debased and wicked members of a beautiful family) grow like 
swords stuck in the ground point upwards, and woe betide any care¬ 
less person who puts his hand on the apex of their rigid, blade-like 
leaves—their rapier-points would pierce his palm as readily as a 
sword of steel. But as we have crossed a ridge stretching out into 
the plain, and our path, from sloping upwards, descends a little on 
the other side, this fantastic vegetation, befitting the precincts of 
some horrid ntediteval monster’s lair, modifies its repulsive 
character, and becomes intermixed with shrubs and grass 
of vivid green, while to our joy we descry some half a mile 
ahead a belt of dense purple-green foliage, which in these African 
wildernesses always denotes the presence of water. In fact, a few 
minutes’ walk takes us from the dull white glare of the hazy noon¬ 
tide in the open, shadeless waste into a cool, delicious bower of deep 
green shade, where at first, so great is the contrast, we blink our 
eyes and can see no details. Then I make out a clear limpid stream 
slipping along over small stones, or forming still, quiet, mirror-like 
pools between grey walls of smooth, massive tree trunks, which 
The tree fell forward straight across the 
river from bank to bank, needing 
but the lopping of its superfluous 
crown of leafy branches to form 
as satisfactory a bridge as the 
natives required. As, however, 
its trunk remains rounded like a 
cylinder, and is polished and ex¬ 
tremely slippery with the constant passage of naked feet, it offeis 
anything but a secure foothold, and as a fall from any part of the 
bridge would be rather dangerous, I prefer fording the stream on 
a man’s back to risking the transit of the bridge, although all my 
men, with heavy burdens on their heads, cross it without mishap. 
ZEBRAS 
