How President Roosevelt Will Travel. 
By Safari in Mid Africa. 
As President Roosevelt is reported to be com¬ 
ing to Africa next year, it has occurred to me 
that a description of the way in which a hunt¬ 
ing party travels will have an interest for Ameri¬ 
can sportsmen generally. This method is so 
absolutely different from anything that we Ameri¬ 
cans know that it seems to me worthy of de¬ 
tailed description. In the West the hunter has 
a horse to ride, a wagon to carry his bed and 
provisions, or if in rough country, a few pack 
animals; then he starts off with one or two men 
and does not see anyone else until he returns 
to the settlements. Here in Africa we do things 
differently. But let me begin at the beginning. 
I landed at Mombasa, a lowlying damp city 
of the Tropics, and from there came on by rail 
to Nairobi. We left a little before noon on a 
Monday, and the run took us twenty-four hours. 
I believe the distance is 338 miles. The ride 
was extremely interesting, for in the afternoon 
we began to see game, the first things that we 
saw being paa deer, tiny animals standing only 
about a foot high. The next morning we had evi¬ 
dently made considerable elevation, for the coun¬ 
try had changed and we were passing over a great 
plain. The Government preserve, where no shoot¬ 
ing is permitted, runs back a mile from each side 
of the railroad, and on this we saw herds of 
zebra, looking like sleek ponies, frisking and 
kicking up their heels; vast numbers of harte 
beeste; gnu, which at a little distance looked 
like a herd of buffalo; Thomas’ gazelles with 
their slender graceful horns and little black tails 
which they whisked constantly; ostriches, stein- 
bock and many other sorts of game. I saw a 
few impala, which bound in the most extraordi¬ 
nary manner. They seem to shoot up in the air 
and remain there, and to float rather than to 
run. All this game seems very tame, a natural 
result of the fact that they are not disturbed. 
Nairobi is very different from Mombasa. It 
is several thousand feet above the sea level, with¬ 
out mosquitoes and so without malaria. You 
sleep under blankets, and as you sit on the 
veranda, clad in a flannel shirt and khaki cloth¬ 
ing, you feel cool and comfortable. The place 
is only six or eight years old. It has good 
stores, good roads and fine residences, but it 
has not the same luxuriant tropical foliage that 
one sees down by the sea. 
From Nairobi we started with a safari or 
caravan and I must describe this to give you a 
notion of the life. The caravan consists of a large 
number of footmen, most of whom are simple 
porters or burden bearers. Sometimes, and in 
fact often, a safari is accompanied by a number 
of donkeys, which are used to transport sup¬ 
plies from some base to the camps which you 
may make within reach of that base. If you 
are going to be out for two or three months, you 
will need a considerable amount of extra food 
to keep your human burden bearers supplied. 
One kills a good deal of meat, but the porters, 
while they are fond enough of meat, grumble 
loudly if they do not get a certain amount of 
vegetable food, and besides that, one is obliged 
by law to serve out to each porter one and one- 
half pounds of rice per day. Now, a porter 
carries only sixty pounds in his load, and it is 
obvious that if you are to be gone for two 
months, the porter could not carry his own food, 
let alone any things which his employer may 
have to carry. It is therefore necessary to send 
in constantly for food; that is, rice or flour, and 
to have this food transported to places where 
you are in camp, or to other places where you , 
are about to camp. 
These safari vary greatly in size. A small 
one will not have more than forty porters; a 
large one, such as came in this spring, had 450 
porters and 60 donkeys. Of these 450 porters 
a large number carried all sorts of luxuries 
such as wine, beer, soda water and other drink¬ 
ables and eatables. 
When you start out on a hunting trip you 
will have plenty of things to move—your tents, 
provisions, ammunition, bedding and so on, and 
these are all carried by the porters who make 
up the safari. We brought almost all our pro¬ 
visions from England packed in sixty-pound 
boxes provided with padlocks to keep things 
from being stolen. Besides the porter’s regula¬ 
tion load every four or five porters carry among 
them a small tent and a few working imple¬ 
ments. A porter receives 10 rupees—$3.33—a 
month. At the start every man is by law fur¬ 
nished with a blue sweater, a red blanket, cost¬ 
ing about $1, and a tin water bottle. 
The head man is an important personage who, 
under your orders of course, has complete au¬ 
thority over the porters. He assigns the loads, 
and long experience has taught him to tell by 
lifting pretty accurately the weight of a load. 
He must speak English so as to be able to com¬ 
municate directly with the Bwanos—masters. I 
will take him up again when we come to “pitch¬ 
ing camp.” 
You have a cook who is assisted by a couple 
of the porters who get his wood and water and 
act as general helpers. You have a tent boy 
who should be honest and sober. He fixes up 
your tent, sees that your drinking water has 
been thoroughly boiled and washes your clothes, 
greases your boots, etc. He also has a porter 
to help him. If you have a mule, you have a 
syce or groom to look after it. I do not know 
why it is, but the syce is always stupid. He is 
just as likely as not to put the saddle on wrong 
end before, or the curb over the nose instead 
of under. My companion’s syce once brought 
up his saddled mule with the stirrup under the 
saddle on the animal’s back. The syce accom¬ 
panies your mule, holds it when you dismount, 
to walk or hunt, carries your water bottle, and 
on the march usually carries your shotgun. 
These men are always cowards and ready to 
mount your mule and ride off in a hurry if any 
dangerous game comes along. They get about 
the same wages as the porters and do not have 
to carry loads on the march. 
You have two gun boys. If you are a poor 
shot it is almost a necessity for your first gun 
boy to be a Somali. From a sort of pride of 
race they stand, and never run away, and so 
you are sure of your second gun. If you go 
up on lions, rhinos, etc., you take your heavy 
rifle, a double-barreled .450 cordite express and 
your gun bearer follows with your light rifle. If 
you need the second gun you hand him the empty 
gun, and he gives you the other. He keeps his 
eyes and attention on you, not on the game. A 
Somali gets about 55 rupees a month—$18.33. 
Your second gun bearer will probably be a 
Wakamba. They are a nation of hunters and 
can track wounded game and skin well. If you 
get a good one he will stand as staunchly as a 
Somali. They get about 30 rupees a month. 
You have a couple of askari or native sol¬ 
diers. The law requires you to take them. They 
act as under headmen, and one follows the rear 
of the safari to see that the man does not strag¬ 
gle. They receive about 12 rupees a month and 
do not have to carry loads on the march; only 
their rifles and personal belongings. The gun 
bearers have a porter to carry their tent and 
household goods as do also the tent boys and 
cook. Askari get 12 rupees a month, tent boys 
and cooks from 30 to 35. 
Now we are ready to start. The loads are 
packed, and each porter holds his blanket by 
diagonally opposite corners, making of it a doubled 
triangle—generally they help one another. One 
end of the folded side he puts against his head 
and winds it around like a turban, gradually 
rolling up the hanging edges and making a tur¬ 
ban about eight inches high, and as much across 
the top. His load rests on this, and he steadies 
it with a walking stick over his shoulder. He 
rests his head occasionally by letting the load 
down on his shoulder. Your gun boys, tent boys 
and cook are given khaki suits of clothes, but 
the porters dress in most wonderful ways. A 
waistcoat and jersey or cheap undershirt—but 
do not imagine from this they also wear over¬ 
shirts—is what they all try to get. Your new 
jersey and blanket are promptly hidden and they 
come out in old rags of past trips. Old bottles 
replace the cheap tin canteens—which only last 
a few days as a rule—or perhaps empty tin cans 
of all kinds. Some have old coats that have 
been given by past Bwanos. One fellow in our 
safari has an old frock coat and another one 
an old but fashionably cut rain coat. They grad¬ 
ually accumulate vast quantities of things. 
At last all is ready. The loads are lifted, the 
horn is blown and off we go. 
We will say that you ride at the head of the 
safari. Immediately your first gun bearer carry¬ 
ing your light rifle takes his place in front of 
you; your syce follows at the heels of your 
mule, and your second gun bearer is right be¬ 
hind him. It would be the height of bad man¬ 
ners for my gun bearer to get in front of yours 
if I am riding behind you. 
Now imagine that we are reaching the place 
where we expect to camp. Your tent boy runs 
forward to select a good place for your tent and 
