VII
THROUGH THE SUDD OF THE GELO RIVER
At the time of which I write, about 1908, the wild countries lying around the western and south-western base of the Abyssinian plateau seemed to us to present the most favourable field of operations. And as the boundaries had not yet been delimited between Abyssinia and the Sudan on the one hand and Abyssinia and Uganda on the other, we felt that there would be more scope for our activities in that region than elsewhere. The object was elephant hunting.
In order to reach this country we were obliged to cross Abyssinia. We took steamer to Djibuti on the Red Sea, ascending thence by railway to the then railhead, Dirré Doua, and then by horse, camel and mule to Addis Abeba, the capital. Here, the only trouble we had was from our own legation. Our representative regarded every English traveller in the light of being a potential source of trouble to him personally, and was at little pains to conceal his thoughts. Luckily, we had been recommended financially to the bank, and this fact smoothed our path. Apparently, in these matters the main question is whether one is the possessor of a few hundred pounds or not. If so, zeal in helping the traveller on is forthcoming; but if not, every obstacle is put in the way of his ever making any progress. In one of our colonies I was once asked bluntly by the Government representative if I had any money. Of course, the poor man was merely trying to do his duty; but before I could think of this I had replied, “Precious little.” Throughout my stay in his province he regarded me with the gravest suspicion.
Along the route from Addis Abeba to Goré in the west we were much pestered for presents by the Abyssinian military governors. We had been warned about this and were supplied with some automatic pistols. They invariably turned these down and tried to get our rifles, but as invariably accepted the pistols. These gentry have to be reckoned with, as it is within their power to hold up the traveller by simply declaring the road to be dangerous.
At Goré we came under the rule of the famous chief Ras Tasama. He reigned over the whole of the western part of Abyssinia, tolerating no interference from the Emperor, but paying to him a considerable tribute. This tribute was mainly composed of slaves, gold dust and ivory. The dust was gathered annually from the river beds, after the rains, and by the subject races. We were informed that Goré’s quota amounted to 4,000 oz. Ivory was obtained from the negro tribes living in the lowlands below the Abyssinian plateau. One chief with whom we came in contact was required to provide 300 tusks annually, and apparently could do so easily. It will give an idea of the immense numbers of elephant in the country when I mention that this chief had under him quite a modest little tribe, occupying a country which could be traversed in four days of easy marching.
Slaves were raided from tribes which could not or would not provide ivory. We gathered that these raids were extremely brutal affairs, for which the Abyssinian habits of eating raw meat and drinking rawer alcohol seemed peculiarly to fit them, and that just before our arrival at Goré a raid had resulted in the capture of 10,000 men, women and children. This figure is probably an exaggeration, but it was evident from the accounts of witnesses whom we questioned that the numbers must have been very considerable. They said that the mules, with children lashed on them like faggots, required half the day to pass through the town. The only sign of slaving that we ourselves saw was when we met a body of mounted Abyssinians guarding some wild-looking natives from some distant land. Even if their patient phlegm and air of despair had not drawn our attention to them, the fact that they were completely nude, very black, and wore ornaments such as necklaces made up of countless little round discs of ostrich eggshell, otherwise unseen in Abyssinia, would have done so. We were spared the sight of children.
From information gathered, it now became necessary to obtain permission from Ras Tasama to proceed off the beaten track for the purpose of hunting elephant. So far we had followed the well beaten Addis-Gambela-Khartoum track. We stated our wishes at the first interview with the Ras. He was an imposing-looking old man, short of stature, but with the expression of power, authority and dignity so often found in outstanding Africans. Accompanied by our one-eared interpreter, who had lost the other as a punishment for having sided with the Italians in the war, we were received in the hall of his house, a two-storeyed building of oval shape and a fine specimen of Abyssinian architecture. The usual compliments passed between us and the customary present was duly presented by us. It took the form, on this occasion, of a case of liqueur brandy and a little banker’s bag containing fifty golden sovereigns. As is usual in Africa, the gifts were received without demonstration. We then proceeded to state our business, through our interpreter. We were elephant hunters and wished to have the Ras’s permission to hunt and his advice on where to go. Drinks were served. Our choice was old tedg (honey-mead), the national drink. It was clear and sparkling, very good and rather like champagne. The Ras told us it was nine years old. He himself preferred araki, which is almost pure alcohol flavoured with aniseed. He then remarked that he knew of a country where there were many elephant. This remark we thought distinctly promising, but he made no further reference to the subject of so much importance to us. The visit ended.
On our return to camp we asked our interpreter what we should do now. He said we would get what we wanted, but that we should give the Ras another present. We looked about and finally decided to give him one of our sporting rifles. Next day, after arranging to call on him, we duly presented this beautiful weapon together with a lot of cartridges. More hope was doled out to us, without anything definite happening. And so on it went for three weeks. By that time the Ras had become possessed of eight mules, fifteen camels (he asked for these), several firearms and sundry cases of liquor, besides the presents first mentioned. We were then at the end of our resources and in desperation. This the Ras probably knew as well as we did, for at long last the desired permission was given. But only verbally and without witnesses. Once he had given his word, however, the thing was thoroughly well done. A guide was provided to take us to the hunting grounds. This man not only guided us, but as long as we remained in country owing allegiance to the Ras we were provided with everything the country afforded.
After descending the steep edge of the Abyssinian Plateau we arrived at the rolling plains, several thousands of feet lower and very much hotter than Goré. Mosquitoes were to be reckoned with once more. The natives were now very black, naked, Nilotic and pagan, but paid tribute to Ras Tasama in ivory.
The guide furnished us by Ras Tasama took us to the chief of these people. He was a great swell and wore an Abyssinian robe. While at his village he fêted us and our Abyssinians, and in the night came secretly to ask if we wished to buy ivory. We replied guardedly that much depended on the price asked. He then sent for a tusk and we were overjoyed to see that the ivory of the country was large and soft. We asked if that was all he had. He said he had more. Could we see it? Yes, and he led us to a stockade where he had a considerable amount of tusks hidden in a hole and covered with mats. One was very large—about 150 lb., I would say. We then asked him what he wanted for his ivory. “Guineea,” he said. It took us some time before it dawned on us. He wanted guineas, as English or Egyptian sovereigns are called. We were astonished, and wondered how he was acquainted with them. It appeared that at Gambela there was a Greek trader who apparently bought ivory and it was there that our friend had dealt in sovereigns. But of their true value he was ignorant, evidently confusing them with some smaller coin as he asked for an impossible number for a tusk. We knew that this chief was in high favour with Ras Tasama and that he paid tribute of 300 tusks annually. This fact, combined with the sight before our eyes, seemed to denote enormous numbers of elephant somewhere, and yet we had seen no tracks so far. We asked where all this ivory came from. The chief smiled in a superior way, telling us to wait and he would show us so many elephant that we would be afraid to look upon them, let alone hunt them.
He was right about their numbers, for a few days after leaving his village we came upon the trail of a roaming herd. The well-beaten part of this trail was literally several hundreds of yards wide. I am afraid to estimate how many animals must have been in that herd.
Although it was several days old I wanted to follow it. I took it to be a migration of sorts. But the natives said no, there was no need to. There were plenty more. And, sure enough, they were right. We arrived at a small village on the banks of the Gelo.
Looking up our map we found that the Gelo River from Lake Tata down-stream was marked as unknown. Accordingly, we made enquiries among the natives about the country down-stream, and were told that there were no natives for many days, that the whole country was under water at this season and that no one would go.
This was good enough for us. We opened negotiations with the chiefs for some dug-out canoes, which we obtained for various sundries. They were poor carriers and very crank, so I lashed them together in rafts of three.
It was now necessary to deal with our followers. All the Abyssinians would have to return as they were daily becoming more fever-stricken. With them would go the mules. The guide rightly considered he had done his job. There remained four of my old Swahili followers from British East Africa, who had been shipped, through Thos. Cook and Son, from Mombassa to Djibuti, and four Yemen Arabs we had picked up on our way through. The Swahilis were old hands, had been everywhere with me for about ten years, and cared not a rap where we went. The Arabs were new, but splendid fellows. They hated the thought of recrossing Abyssinia by themselves and were, therefore, obliged to go on with us.
On loading up the flotilla it was found impossible to carry all our stores. We made a huge bonfire of the surplus, and I well remember how well the ham and bacon burned. We regretted burning all these good things, but, as a matter of fact, we were better without them. Laying in a stock of native grain we pushed off into the current and swung down-stream.
It was the rainy season and the discomforts we suffered were sometimes acute. Almost immediately on quitting the chief’s village we entered a region where hard ground rose only a few inches above water level. Great areas were entirely covered by water, only the tops of the 12-foot grass showing above it. Whenever we turned one of the many bends of the river, and these were hard banks, there would be a continuous line of splashes, which advanced with us as the crocodiles plunged in. The waters teemed with fish, especially the lung-fish, which continued rising night and day to breathe, as we supposed.
In this swamp country every night was a time of horror, and camping a perfect nightmare. Well before the sun was down the mosquitoes appeared in myriads. Luckily our boys had each been provided with a mosquito net. These nets I had procured with a watertight canvas roof so that they also acted as small tents. They could be slung between sticks or paddles stuck in the ground. Without these nets no man could long survive the quite serious loss of blood and sleep; for, to add to our troubles, firewood was non-existent. In the hot, sweltering nights, when it was not raining, the moon would appear almost obliterated by the clouds of mosquitoes hanging to the net, while the massed hum seemed to be continuous. And yet there was no fever among us, presumably because of the lack of infection sources. Several times no dry spot could be found and we stuck it out as best we could on the canoes.
Of game we saw nothing except elephant. No buck or buffalo nor even hippo in that desolate region. How numerous elephant were I cannot say, as we never hunted them unless we actually saw them from the canoes. Low on the water as we were and with high grass everywhere, it was necessary for the animals to be within a few yards of the bank in order to come within our view. Hunting thus we killed some 30 bulls as we drifted along. Allowing that we killed half we saw, that would mean that 60 bull elephant crossed our narrow path at the moment we were there or thereabouts. If the region were only a few miles deep on either bank and were frequented on a similar scale, it would indicate an enormous number of elephant. We took little heed of cows, but of these quite a hundred came within our view.
All our boys being Mohammedans, we two whites were the only eaters of elephant meat. Luckily for the others, fish were easily caught.
At one place where we killed elephant we found a raised piece of ground perhaps three or four feet above the water. It even had three trees on it. We were simply delighted to reach shore again, and as we had killed six good bulls that day the camp was merry—at any rate, the white portion of it. As we were obliged to wait here three or four days for the elephant to rot before drawing the tusks, we pitched our tents and made everything comfortable. In the night a terrific rain storm blew up, and when it was at its height red ants invaded us. My companion was got first, and had to vacate his bed and tent. I could hear him cursing between the thunder claps. Presently he came into my tent, quite naked, as they had got into his pyjamas. I told him to lay a trail of paraffin all round the tent, while I proceeded to tuck my net well in all round me. As he was laying the trail the rising water came rushing in, bearing with it thousands of desperate ants. They swarmed up everything they touched. I lay, as I thought, secure, my companion fled, slapping and brushing his naked legs and cursing dreadfully.
For some time the enemy failed to penetrate my fine-mesh net, but when they did get me they all got me at once. Without two thoughts I was out in the pouring rain and throwing off my pyjamas. After brushing off the fiery hot devils I found they were mounting my legs just as fast. My companion yelled through the storm to get up on an up-turned bucket. I found one at last and mounted. And thus we rode it out.
There was bad “medicine” in that camp, for next day my companion got gassed when he drew a tusk, and was violently sick; and while carrying the tusk back to camp stepped on a huge fish, while wading through mud and water, which threw him headlong into it.
We were now obliged to cast gear in order to carry ivory. Spare axes, tools and camp gear went first, and finally provisions and tents. At last we could take nothing more aboard and float. We left fine ivory standing on the banks. We had formed the idea of returning, properly equipped, for this inland navigation, and headed down-stream with about two inches freeboard. Our sluggish Gelo bore us slowly into the sluggish Pibor which pushed us gently into the livelier Sobat. On our way down this river to the Nile we were so short of food and the usual wherewithal to buy it that we were obliged to part with one of our tusks for native grain, fowls, and a couple of sheep. We camped frequently by the villages of the Nuers, and were astonished to learn on our arrival at the Nile that we were then at war with this tribe.
I am inclined to think that we were rather lucky to have come through the sudd region of the Gelo so easily. At one place the open channel divided equally into two, and we debated which one we should follow. We tossed, and the paddle decided on the right-hand channel. We followed it, but never saw where the other channel rejoined.
After reaching the more open waters of the Sobat the lightest breeze raised sufficient lop on the water to come aboard with our dangerously low freeboard. As it was, we were caught about mid-stream once, and before we could reach the bank the whole flotilla settled down. Luckily, we were only a few yards from shore and in about ten feet of water. Our boys were magnificent, and got everything up while we plugged shots into the water to keep off crocs. Had we foundered further out, the whole of our ivory and rifles, etc., would have been lost.
The hunting of elephant in this swamp region was of the severest description. That is the reason of their congregating there in such numbers, I think. The ground was too rotten for ponies or mules, even should they survive the myriads of flies and mosquitoes. The grass was mostly the 12-foot stuff with razor-like edges and countless, almost invisible spines, which stick into exposed limbs. Locomotion for humans was only possible when following elephant tracks. When within even a few paces of the animals it was generally impossible to see them. I used to mount on a boy’s shoulder and fire from there, but the stance was so wobbly and the view so obstructed by grass tops as to make it most unsatisfactory. Having a large telescope mounted on a stout tripod I fitted a tiny board to fix on the tripod top, and found it most satisfactory; although the jump from my rifle, slight as it was, knocked me off once or twice.
On this safari the health of everyone was excellent, considering the hard work and poor food. We whites were troubled somewhat with indigestion, caused I think by our native-grain flour having got wet, and fermented a bit. There was practically no fever, and my tough old Swahilis came through without turning a hair. The Arabs, however, lost condition.
A SHOT FROM THE SHOULDERS OF A TALL NATIVE: A VERY WOBBLY METHOD.
