Mission to Kilimanjaro. Alexandre Le Roy
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Extracting wine from the doum
Strolling about the neighborhood, we were able to note that these rather simple people were not at all hostile. The children flocked around us, and when they had noticed that Father Auguste Gommenginger and I were looking for insects as a hobby, they brought us dung beetles, weevils and scarabs—everything was acceptable. But, among all these, there was one, found in great numbers, under the dried grass of a newly cleared field, which was of interest both to the children and ourselves. It was a little beetle of 0.015 to 0.020 meters in size, not brightly colored, whose outer wings showed part of the body. Zoologists call it brachine (brachinas crepitans) and ordinary mortals refer to it as “the bombardier.” This is because, when someone tries to get hold of it, it vigorously discharges through its anus some drops of a caustic liquid which immediately vaporizes, making a crackling sound which is enough to frighten a fly and astonish a man.
But we must come back to our caravan. On the morning of the 17th, the six porters who had disappeared during the night returned, with very red eyes, but walking normally. They claimed that their sense of duty had led them to say goodbye to their beloved families. This was a very suitable attitude; we said nothing, but insisted on starting as soon as possible.
Apart from Mgr. de Courmont, we were two missionaries, Le Roy and Gommenginger, and two young Christians. Old Selemani (this name, written Séliman in the course of this work, is read Selemani), our devoted and trustworthy servant, was with us. He did the cooking, and, whenever our watches stopped, it was he who decided what the time was. He had an extraordinary skill for that, and he was never as flattered as when you asked him where the sun was. As for the moon, he has a really personal knowledge of it. The poor old man was not in good health, but he had overcome all problems to follow us. What was his illness? He suffered, he explained in his kitchen French, from “a cold in his ham” (“un rhume à son jambon”). Informed people will realize that it was a case of rheumatism in his thigh [he had confused jambe, leg, and jambon, ham—translator].
Mombasa-fish barrages
The rest of the caravan was composed of forty porters, each in a section with its leader. If you want to find out how much these thirty men can carry, you have to understand that each man has not merely his cooking utensils, his personal luggage, and his rifle, but thirty kilos of luggage to be carried on his head or his shoulders according to his choice. There were three kinds of unbleached linen; two sorts of red linen, differing in quality; big and small sizes of calico; then printed calico and various cotton fabrics; linen clothes for whose shape and coloring I cannot find the correct words in any European language. There were also blankets, rolls of iron wire, both large and small, as well as rolls of copper wire, both red and yellow. Then there were glass pearls of varying colors, shape, and size—some like peas, some like a grain of hempseed, some like the head of a pin, some red, some yellow, some white, some blue, some rose-colored, and some green.
We must add pickaxes, axes, knives, soap, flutes, files (tools), small chains in gold and silver. Then there are household items, mirrors, thread, needles, small bells, necklaces, fishing hooks, paraffin, candles, and armchair nails which ladies use as ornaments on their noses. Finally, I have not included our provisions, medicines for different diseases, some pots of jam, coffee, oil, vinegar, tea, sugar, rice, beans, three tents, a portable altar, a hammock, three barrels of gunpowder, a hundred Gras cartridges, four bottles of rum, and a jug for water. This jug could be filled up at any river, stream, swift-flowing torrent, spring, lake, pond, or pool. We had materials for an excellent shop of which we were the shopkeepers.
From Zanzibar onwards, we had given ourselves different responsibilities. Mgr. de Courmont was to decide on the route, and where we should camp. Fr. Gommenginger was to look after the cooking, buy food, and work out with Selemani the important question of the daily menu. Fr. Le Roy was to keep the caravan in good order and to see that we moved together as a group.
Everything was ready. At nine o’clock, we took breakfast, the baggage was packed, and off we went.
Banana tree
Chapter 4: In Digo Country
From Mombasa to Vanga. The Layout of the Land.
The Digo People. With Chief Kubo.
Weapons and Poisons.
The country between Mombasa and Vanga is inhabited by the Wadigo, or, as one would say in English or French, the Digo. They are scattered more or less everywhere, but there is a Swahili colony established at Gasi, and the remaining groups of the earlier population who have been pushed into an area of the coast called Vumba. Our route was to pass through these three regions rarely visited by Europeans, incompletely explored, and yet rather interesting. From a geological point of view, the region consists of three levels, which can be clearly recognized from the sea: a low level, a medium level, and an upper level.
The first, the coastline, is composed of a bed of old coral covered by sand and humus, at many points too shallow to be fertile. It is then occupied by undergrowth, filaos (casuarina equisetifolia), deon palms, and pandanus trees (pandanus odoratissimus). A little behind this uncultivated ground, we get signs of human habitation in the form of coconut trees. There are a few small harbors on this coast, but they are only fit to be used by dhows and local boats. The names of these harbors are Tiwi, Gasi, Funzi, Pongwe, Chugu, Wasini, Vanga, and Mwoa. Going south along the coast, the sea cuts into the land and creates wide lagoons flanked by mangroves. Boats can come and leave on the high tide, carrying wood for fires to make lime and for beams and rafters. Except for Gasi, Pongwe, Wasini and Vanga, the coastline is thinly populated.
The medium level is higher up and also more fertile, more farmed, and more populated. This is Digo country in the strict sense, with the districts of Matooga, Tiwi, Ndiani, Ukunda, Mafisi, Mwa Doonda, etc. The upper level, as a whole, reaches a height of about 300 meters. It consists of Shimba, which one can see from Mombasa, looking like a table; Longo, which is next to it; Mwabila, which today is almost a wilderness, but which is watered and fertile; and Mwele, where Mbaruku, the ruler of Gasi, has a slave settlement. Finally, to the south, there is a small, well-shaped mountain which is uninhabited because there are no sources of water; this is Jombo.
Behind this range of hills, there is an immense area, between the territories of the Sambara, the Pare, the Taveta, and the Kamba, which when viewed from a high vantage point looks like an endless forest, dull and gloomy, only broken by the heights of Kilibasi, Kasigeo, and Mwangoo, and, further away, the picturesque mountains of Ndara and Boora. It is a desert, not the sandy desert of the Sahara, but a plateau where everything—the soil, the grass, the trees, the insects, the birds, the mammals, human beings included—has this dry, sad way of existing which can be summed up in one word: desert-ified. There is little or no water; this explains everything else.
However, some rivers rise from within this plateau and create, parallel to the coast, a pleasantly green zone. The main ones are: the river Pemba, which runs out into Mombasa Bay, and the Mkwakwa, which enters the sea at Tiwi and which flows down from Mwabila. We must add to these the Mkooroomodyi, which comes from Mwele, the Ramisi, which emerges from Ada (Doorooma) and whose water is slightly brackish. There are also, in the middle level of this country, a certain number of pools and springs which are very useful to the local people. Villages get built near them.
The Digo belong, by their physical type, customs, and language, to the great African family called Bantu. In general, they are short rather than tall, lean, relaxed, and not too bad-looking. We stayed a whole week with them, and everywhere we were received with evident friendliness. The chiefs brought us little gifts, the sick came in crowds to get treatment, and some children, who seem close to death, were there and then baptized. Some day we shall meet them again in heaven, where they form part of the vision described by St. John, a great crowd which nobody could count from every nation, race, tribe, and language (Rev 7:9).
However, there are Digo