Mission to Kilimanjaro. Alexandre Le Roy
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the Mountain. The African Savannah. At Daluni. An Elaborate Funeral.
Scarcely two kilometers from Vanga, the river Umba runs flanked by high banks on either side, the result of the great quantity of sand and silt which the river has brought down. When we were there, there was not much water, but in the rainy season the river drains water from a very large valley on both its right and its left and overflows its banks, which therefore become, especially near the estuary, very fertile stretches of ground that the local people are very careful to cultivate.
We had thought that, in travelling from Vanga to Pare, we would simply have to follow the unexplored course of the river, which would have had the advantage of providing us every day with water and food, without any serious detours. But do not be too ready to accept geographical guesswork, or maps, or scientific theorizing. We discovered that after the village of Gonja, inhabited by the Digo, both sides of the Umba are completely uninhabited, the Maasai having developed a regular habit of plundering villages that had tried to settle there.
Moreover, on each side of the river, the strip of ground that can be cultivated is quite narrow. If we followed the line of the river, we would then have been obliged to make a path through the forest, and to live on clean water, which would not have satisfied either ourselves or our men. And so, we took a southwestern route to reach the foothills of the Sambara Mountains, and pass beside them as far as Pare. Our caravan moved on slowly, and we took three days to reach the first foothills at Bwiti. Before that we had passed through Dooga and Mikonde, going through a dry land, not very fertile, with occasional brackish streams, with some hills, with great, uninhabited woodlands with stunted trees, which just about managed to grow in red soil. Here and there, a thick gneiss and shale came to the surface.
There was a lot of brushwood, thorn bushes, acacias, euphorbias, wild vines, and, sometimes, some rather beautiful Egyptian palm trees. In the valleys, where there was water, big trees were growing, as well as creepers and wild date trees. We managed to find villages where we could encamp and get what we needed to live. These were Digo villages, built here on high ground, surrounded by stockades, made of solid pieces of wood. Generally, a sycamore or tamarind tree grows near the village, providing a friendly shade for villagers who wanted to sleep, or to do this or that. In these lands of sunshine, the house is really only a place for sleeping at night, and perhaps that is why it is so simply constructed. What good would be these immovable houses of stone when there is so little to keep there, when there is no winter, and the open air is so pleasant.
For our part, we had made a final and unpleasant march across a forest devoid of living creatures—except for two magnificent herds of antelopes. As for the antelopes, we had chased them unsuccessfully, and in the chase, I lost a straw skullcap which I had had for seven years. We felt really happy when suddenly we saw a valley where absolutely everything was green. Here there was plenty of water, fresh, clean, and flowing; there was also an absolute forest of coconut palms, some rice, flowers which were bursting into bud, insects which buzzed, frogs which croaked, and, there, on our way, a plant which grew in abundance and attracted our attention. It was called Job’s Tear (coix lacrima), an unusual plant of the grass family. Previously, I had only seen the seeds, a bright grey in color, threaded into rosaries or necklaces.
Facing us there was a mountain, whose higher slopes were occupied by the Taita people, and whose lower slopes by the Segeju. We camped in the middle of a Segeju village. We had reached Bwiti. These Segeju are a tribe scattered in several different areas. Their original home is said to be on the banks of the River Tana, but they were driven from there by the Galla. They then established small communities at various points on the coast, to the north of Lamu, to the south of Gasi, and, particularly, round about Tanga in the area where we were. They are usually farmers or traders, and almost all profess Islam, but are rather selective in what they choose to practice. Their names, their house, their way of dressing, and their customs have much in common with those of the Swahili and lack anything that is particularly interesting. They received us in a friendly fashion, but insisted that we speak well of them to the German authorities at Tanga, of whom they have a healthy fear. They have made Bwiti into a trading center with a market where the local Africans come every so often to sell what they have grown and buy goods from the coast. It is the last place inland where money is useful.
The Taita who have settled here did so as refugees from raids and warfare in their homeland, and they have chosen the crevices of the mountain to make their nests. Yes, nests, for that is what they are, these little round huts, ill-balanced and wretched, which one can see on the upper reaches of the mountain. Their owners, however, live reasonably happy lives, free, if a bit hard. They have goats, sheep, cattle, beans, maize, and bananas, and they are free from the innumerable sets of commercial regulations, taxes, and service charges, as well as from the paternalism of the state and dynamite explosions.
That evening, we held a council to plan our advance. Daluni, where we had to go the following day, lies just behind the mountain which pushes into the plane, as an enormous buttress of Sambara country. Should we take the direct way over this rampart, or would it be better to go round it? At first, most of the porters wanted to go round it, but when they saw we were determined to follow the goat path which ran upwards before us, they gradually decided to go with us. We had left them perfectly free to choose, and that, no doubt, made them show how brave they were.
The next morning, everything was ready for our climb. Our first step was to cross the little stream, which flowed through the valley, bubbling merrily in the shadow of the tall sycamore fig trees, and striking its bright water against the rocks through which it has hollowed its way. We followed it for a long way and then left it to struggle up the steep slopes which we, the missionaries, managed to scale without too much trouble, while our porters, with loads of from thirty to thirty-five kilograms, found it a severe trial. But they were not downhearted. Was it to show themselves brave men, was it to play games with themselves, and was it simply to forget their tiredness? At any rate, they had the mountain echoing to shouts, jeers, laughter, and songs, which gave an enormous thrill to the women who at that moment were gathering beans, and the children who were looking after the goats. However, the sun, which in the early mornings in Europe brings refreshing light and warmth, can soon become oppressive here. More and more sweat poured down the ebony skins of our men, they were gasping for breath, and finally even the sturdiest fell silent.
But providence is rich in kindness. Just at the right moment, in a really green section of the mountainside, where moss and ferns are mingled with banana trees and thorns, lo and behold, a granite basin into which flows a stream of water, so clean, so fresh, so crystal-clear, that one would not dream of exchanging it for the same quantity of the finest Medoc wine, made by the most modern scientific techniques.
On Bwiti Mountain, a tree covered with creepers
Courage! We had reached the plateau. The same path which had led us along treeless slopes passed now through a magnificently rich forest, with superb creepers and trees, whose towering straightness recalled ships with tall masts. Marching in this exuberant forest, with its shade, its glimpses of landscapes, on this turf and among these flowers, was marvelously relaxing. Unhappily, every ascent is followed by a descent. The caravan arrives down at Daluni, having stumbled over the roots which on the far side of the mountain slowed down our march, and having banged our toes against sharp-edged rocks, sometimes running, sometimes gasping, sometimes groaning. But we were in reasonably good form, and proud of what we had done.
But I must tell you about the range of views which are available up there; it has a fierce greatness which is simply magnificent. On the plateau, the soil is humid, the air cool, and the trees and plants are superb. You can take it as an observation post, which spreads out like an enormous promontory, dominating everything around. Behind you, to the south and the west, there is the huge cluster of the Sambara Mountains; on your right, there is the shady valley of Bwiti where we passed; on your left, the valley of Daluni, which is parallel, and where we had to go down; beyond that and facing you, in fact everywhere else, and as far as the eye can reach under this cloudless sky on this land without mists, down there is an immense forest which has grown up in the African savannah. In color, this forest is of an unchanging grey, with occasional red patches and some isolated peaks thrown