XII
THE ASCENT OF THE BAHR AOUCK
It was from native sources that I first heard of the Bahr Aouck. While hunting elephant both to the north and south of its junction with the Shari River I had repeatedly heard of a large river. But I had noticed that whenever I tried to get a native to give definite information about this mysterious river he at once became very reserved. For some time I treated the existence of this river as being rather mythical, until I came across a vague reference to it in Kumm’s book on Africa. I made more enquiries both among white men and natives, and at last I came to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to go and see. Some accounts said it existed, some that it existed for some distance, but then disappeared into the ground; some pooh-poohed its existence altogether, while others had it that no one could penetrate in face of the opposition that would be encountered. Another authority on the subject—he was military governor of the whole country in which the mysterious river was supposed to exist—held the view that all the remnants of the Khalifa’s die-hards and the riff-raff from all parts had a kind of last stronghold on this river, and that nothing short of a well-equipped military expedition could go through. Another account said there was no water during the dry season.
All these conflicting accounts proved to be wrong. There was enough water to float a river steamer at the height of the dry season. There were no die-hards or riff-raff of any sort—indeed, there were no inhabitants at all, for the very good reason that the whole country became inundated during the wet season. And as for its disappearance into the ground, all that we who ascended it can say is that it was not doing it while we were there. The outbreak of war prevented any attempt on my part to probe the mystery. Here I might as well confess that it was not so much a desire to probe the mystery as the hope of finding some good elephant country which decided me to attempt an ascent.
Obviously some kind of water craft would have to be employed. If there was a river there would probably be sufficient water to float a canoe. At the same time there would probably be shallows where even a native canoe would ground. Native canoes are very heavy to portage, therefore it seemed to me that Canadian canoes of the “freight” type were the only means of transport holding out any hope of proving successful. Hence, when the war was over, my friend W. and myself decided to try our luck. With this end in view we ordered two canoes from the Peterborough Canoe Company of Canada to be shipped direct to Africa from New York. One of these canoes was 18 ft. by 44 ins., and carried an enormous amount of stuff, while the other was smaller. Their construction was vertical strip covered with canvas. The big one weighed 150 lb. and could be carried by two men easily. I may say at once that these canoes were the greatest success. We had with us quick-repair outfits, and whenever a hole was knocked in them we patched it up in a few minutes. As regards propulsion, they proved to be by far the cheapest form of transport I have ever had, for one’s ordinary boys, cook, and gun-bearers could and did paddle and push them along against the current at a rate of twenty miles a day, and that without great fatigue, so easily do these delightful, graceful, fine-lined and efficient little craft slip through the water. Out of all our boys only one was what could be called a waterman; the others had no previous experience whatever of canoes or water.
To reach the watershed to which our mystery river belonged—if it existed at all—it was necessary to travel many hundreds of weary miles. First 500 miles against the current. Then a land portage of eighty miles. Then a descent with the current of 200 miles, and then an ascent against the current of some 450 miles. Incredible as it may seem in these days of quick transport, this trek took four months to accomplish, and that before reaching the beginning of the unknown river. Long before we arrived there our scanty store of European provisions was finished, and we lived entirely upon the country. We had left England very poorly provided with provisions, as there were regulations still in force prohibiting the export of foodstuffs.
On our way and while waiting for our canoes, which had got sadly delayed among the shippers, we visited the native Sultan Buba Gida, as I described in Chapter X. On our return from Buba’s country—where we had some interesting shooting—we found our canoes ready for us. It did not take us long to get our gear ready, and off we started up-stream for the long and arduous journey before us. We made sails and fitted masts to the canoes, as we often had a following wind, and they assisted tremendously. W. was an accomplished waterman and steered one canoe, while I steered the big one. So as to be handy to our fleet we had been camped on a beautiful sand-bank while preparing for the start, and every evening we practised the boys in paddling. When the day came, when all was stowed neatly away, we rattled off up-stream at a great pace, passing easily any craft on the river.
As our way now lay for hundreds of miles through more or less well-known country, I will merely recount the incidents of more than ordinary interest. One of these happened when we made a halt for washing clothes. One of our boys—who could not swim—calmly walked into a very deep and dangerously swift part of the river to recover his shirt which had blown in. To his astonishment he found that he could not keep his head above water. Judging by the expression on the face which every now and again bobbed up at a rapidly increasing distance, this—to him—curious fact did not seem to alarm him at all. The perfect fool kept grinning every time his head came out. It suddenly dawned upon me that I had seen this kind of thing before, and that the boy was really drowning. I immediately shoved the naked headman—a clever swimmer—into the river, telling him to save the lad. But long before he reached him the gallant W. had towed him to the bank, where he continued to grin foolishly.
Another was when I pipped an enormous “croc.” He was floating lazily down the centre of the current when I shot him. Hit in the brain, he happened to float until some natives got their fish-harpoons into him. They towed him ashore and cut him up, and there in his inside was what I had read of in travellers’ tales, but had never before seen—a native woman’s brass bangle. The natives of the place claimed to know this croc. well, and even to know the name of the bangle’s former owner. The finding of the bangle did not at all prevent the natives from eating the croc. In connection with the finding of bangles in crocs.’ insides, a missionary we met advanced a theory that the crocs. picked up and swallowed a lot of these from the river bed. But he could not explain how the bangles got there.
Throughout this expedition W. and I lived for the most part on what we shot and on what we could buy from the natives. Almost everywhere we got whistling teal with great ease. One shot from W.’s 12-bore would usually provide enough for all hands. He seldom picked up less than five or six, and once we gathered twenty-nine from a single discharge. They were tender and fat enough to cook in their own juice, and their flavour was exquisite. They were literally in tens of thousands in some places. There were many other fowl in thousands also, but none were so good to eat as the whistlers, except the tiny and beautiful “butter-ball” teal. These were rather rare. The spur-winged goose and the Egyptian goose were also very numerous, but tough and strong in the pot. Guinea-fowl were very common, and the young ones were delicious, while the old ones made capital soup. On one occasion we heard guinea-fowl making a tremendous clatter in the bush by the river bank. We paddled over to shoot some for the pot. W. fired at one in a tree from the canoe. At the report a large lioness slunk away through the bush. This occurred on our way home, and as we were by that time satiated with lion we let her go unmolested.
A MAN-EATER, FROM WHOSE INSIDE A WOMAN’S BANGLE WAS TAKEN.
Besides all the fowl there were fish in abundance. W. was a great fisherman, and had brought a good assortment of hooks and strong sea lines. We were seldom out of fish. As soon as we arrived at the camping ground W. and the boys would bait their hooks with teal-guts or a piece of buck meat, and in a very short time either the tackle was broken or a fine fish landed. W. could never resist for long the temptation to bait a hook with a small fish of ½ lb. or so, in the hope of catching that most sporting and excellent fish the tiger or “capitaine.” It always ended in his hooking a tiger, but it also ended in the complete loss of hook and most of the line. No gear, however strong, seemed capable of holding this fish. We often admired them as they leapt feet into the air when in hot pursuit of some smaller fish. They presented such an air of activity and energy on these occasions as to make the movements of running salmon appear quite tame and slow in comparison. That they are equally good on the table we had many opportunities of testing, as we always chose them in preference to the others when buying from the natives, who catch them in clever traps. We once had a “capitaine” served up with mayonnaise and the most perfect wine; this was when we lunched with the Governor, and a more delicious fish could not be imagined. We were told, as a tribute to its excellent qualities, that it derived its name from the fact that it was considered that no one below the rank of “capitaine” was worthy to eat it.
Time accomplishes wonders even in Africa, and at last we were actually about to enter the Bahr Aouck. We were deeply laden with foodstuffs, ready for anything that might turn up. W. had a ·318 Mauser, a ·450 D.B., and a 12-bore shot-gun. I had a ·318 and a ·22. Stacks of ammunition for these lay snugly packed in tins in the canoe hold. Then we had six “boys,” all pretty expert with canoes by this time. We had these boys in splendid order. They were of no particular tribe or caste—in fact, they were all of different tribes or castes. We paid them well, but, what was of far greater importance, we kept them in tip-top condition. Living ourselves, as we were by this time, entirely upon native food, we appreciated at their correct value the many and various grains, nuts, oils, etc., and whatever we had our boys also shared. Fish and meat, millet or maize meal, rice and ground-nuts, palm oil, sim-sim oil, ground-nut meal and honey, all were to be found in the capacious hold of our cargo canoe, and all at a trifling cost. Whenever we were compelled to replenish our store of foodstuffs we killed a hippo or two, rolled it up on a sand-bank, and immediately a market would spring up.
The consequence of this high living was a state of high efficiency and contentment among the crew. As none of them had ever been with white men except the cook, who had been with a German, they were all unspoiled and all willing to do anything that turned up. The cooks were boys one day, tusk-choppers the next, canoe carriers the next, and so on. Everybody had to turn their hands to anything, and all were crew.
When, therefore, we sighted the junction of the Bahr Aouck with the Shari, against whose sluggish current we had paddled so many weary miles, we all felt keen and ready to tackle anything that might turn up. We had been careful to keep our destination secret, so that when we actually steered our canoes into the Bahr Aouck our boys had not the slightest inkling of our intention to ascend this river. All being strangers to this country they had never heard of the Bahr Aouck—or, indeed, of any other of the many “bahrs” there. But had they known the name, through our having mentioned that we were going there, it is almost certain that they would have made enquiries among the natives we had already met with, and that from them they would have received such dreadful reports as would have led them to desert rather than penetrate the unknown. Consequently, when we paddled vigorously into the swifter current of the Bahr Aouck we were all a merry crew; the boys were merry because they did not know where they were, and W. and I were merry because we did know where we were, and also because the water which bore us at that moment was obviously that of a considerable river, and we thought that if it did not split up into many smaller streams we would go far, and perhaps discover something worth while. I do not know what W. would have considered worth while, as he never showed feeling of any sort and he did not tell me. Although all this was quite new to him, one would have said, on seeing him at this moment, that he must have been exploring unknown country all his life and had grown tired of it. To me, the moment of our entry into the Bahr Aouck was most exhilarating. I had visions of immense herds of unsophisticated elephant with enormous ivory; perhaps new tribes, gold, diamonds, stores of dead ivory waiting for someone to pick them up, new animals, water-elephants, and a thousand and one other visions. As usual with visions, none of these materialised.
NATIVE DECOYS: BUNDLES OF GRASS, THE ENDS WHITEWASHED, STUCK ON STICKS. SHARI RIVER.
WHISTLING TEAL AND LOCUST STORKS: BAHR AOUCK.
THE SMALL CANOE UP-STREAMING: BAHR AOUCK. THE PACKAGE IS DRIED FISH.
As we poled up-stream I took soundings. There were eight feet of water in some places, in spite of it being the dry season. For the first few days we saw very little game. A few kob and water buck, baboons and duiker. Once we saw some fishing natives with their traps. They sold us some excellent smoked fish, and told us that there was one village ahead of us, but beyond that nothing. The next day we saw where a herd of elephant had crossed the river some days before. Hippo now became more common, and at one place where the river formed a large pool there must have been about a hundred of them bobbing up and down. A mile or two further and we came to the village mentioned by the fishermen. It was not actually on the banks, but we knew we were close to it by the canoes and paths. Here we camped, hoping to get some information of the river ahead of us. This was not forthcoming to any extent. When asked, the natives generally appeared uneasy, said they had never been up-stream, or muttered something vague about bad people further on. All agreed, however, that there were no more villages. This determined us to lay in a large cargo of foodstuffs. In order to do this I dropped down-stream to the hippo pool with the small Canadian, now empty. I paddled to a sand-spit which stuck out conveniently into the pool. It was literally covered with fowl of various kinds as we approached. From the sand-spit I proceeded to shoot hippo in the brain, and had no difficulty in killing enough to provide us with sufficient food for a month or two, when the meat had been exchanged for flour, etc. Hippo sink to the bottom when shot in the brain, remaining there for a variable time, depending on the temperature of the water, the stage of fermentation reached by the stomach contents, the inflation or otherwise of the lungs at the moment of death, and the state of the river bottom. Generally this period ranges between twenty minutes and one and a half hours. Shortly after the first carcase had floated to the surface the natives began to arrive. Some of these I sent off hot-foot to tell the whole village that there was meat and fat for all who should bring food in exchange. Meanwhile the carcases were towed to land and rolled up as soon as they floated. When the last had been so dealt with the cutting up commenced, and when that was completed there were already dozens of women waiting with calabashes of meal, etc., to exchange for meat. Such a feast I dare say they had never seen before. It is seldom that more than one hippo is killed at one time by native methods, except on the Upper Nile, where they have a kind of grand battue in which hundreds of canoes take part. Presently our market became very big. No sooner did the natives see the size of the chunks of reeking beef given in exchange for the various commodities than they rushed off to their homes to bring something to barter. We obtained every conceivable kind of native produce. Among the items was a canoe-load of smoked fish. This must have weighed about 200 lb. and was bartered for half a hippo. We also got some curious tobacco. Only the very small leaves and the tobacco flowers were in this particular mixture. We both smoked it regularly and became very fond of it. But it was very potent indeed, and had a far more drug-like effect than ordinary tobacco.
W., IN THE SMALL CANOE, RUNS INTO A RISING HIPPO BUT DIGS HER IN THE NECK WITH HIS PADDLE AND SHE DISAPPEARS WITH A SPLASH, NEARLY SWAMPING THE CANOE.
The slaughter of these hippo and the subsequent bartering had brought us into touch with the natives very nicely indeed, and all were most friendly. So much so was this the case that I ventured to approach one of their canoe-men with the suggestion that he should accompany us up-stream. Rather to my surprise he agreed to do so. Encouraged by this, I suggested that perhaps he had a friend who might like to go with him. He said that he thought one of his friends would go also. We were very glad indeed to have these fellows. The first was quite a youth but a good waterman, while the second was a hard-bitten man of middle age. I thought he would make a good tracker for W. when we should reach elephant country. He was not a waterman at all; in fact, he fell overboard from the small canoe—which was W.’s—so often that I was obliged to put him in the larger and more stable one.
When all was ready we pushed off, very deeply laden. All was now new river ahead of us. As we progressed day by day hippo became more and more numerous. In some places they formed almost a complete barrage across the river. Sometimes it was ticklish work steering between them. Their heads often came up quite close to the canoes, and then they stared at us goggle-eyed with astonishment. Once W.’s canoe ran its stem on to the neck of a rising hippo, the fore part being lifted clean out of the water, canting over dangerously, and then let down with a whack as the old hippo dived. They shipped a deal of water, but there was no damage done. We soon found that if we kept on the shallow side of the pools we ran less chance of bumping into them, our only danger then being from hippo asleep on the bank suddenly waking up and rushing blindly towards deep water. Had we ever had the ill luck to have been across their way, I believe they would have rushed clean into or over us.
For many days we saw no sign of elephant. Kob and water buck were fairly numerous on the banks, and whistling teal, guinea-fowl, Egyptian geese, spoonbills and egrets were common, while inland giraffe, rhino, buffalo, haartebeeste, topi, oribi, roan, and duiker were numerous. Lion were frequently heard, and W. shot a fine male on the carcase of a hippo which was pretty far gone. This hippo must have been wounded by man somewhere, as it was full grown and quite beyond a lion’s ability to kill. Fish became so unsophisticated as to take anything you liked to put on a hook, and that right alongside the canoe. So tame were they that our boys used to dangle buck gralloch in the water and spear the fish which immediately swarmed round it. Why fish were so numerous I do not rightly understand. It may have been because there were no natives, who, with their gigantic traps, must destroy countless fish. A curious thing was that the enormous “crocs.” we saw appeared to prefer buck to fish. One which we shot was dragging a dead haartebeeste into the water. The haartebeeste was full grown and had evidently been kept under water for some time. We often spotted these monsters lying motionless in the grass, waiting for buck to come along, I imagine. Another large crocodile whom we were tempted to photograph was taken by W. at only about 8 yds. range. He had sustained damage to one eye—the one nearest the photographer—and probably that was why W. could approach him so closely.
So far we had not met with great numbers of tsetse. But now we began to reach a very flat country which was evidently all under water in the wet season. Half submerged evergreen forests became more and more common. These cool, damp forests were full of tsetse, and in a few days we were overjoyed to find that elephant frequented them in goodly numbers. Buffalo also seemed fond of them. Had it not been for the swarms of tsetse I think we would have found these groves of evergreen standing full of elephant and buffalo. As it was they came to them only by night, withdrawing to the open bush and dry grass lands in the daytime. Only once did we actually see elephant from the canoes in the daytime, although we frequently did so by night.
SPUR-WINGED GEESE: SHARI RIVER.
MALE EGYPTIAN GEESE IN BREEDING SEASON: BAHR AOUCK.
One day we saw ahead of us what appeared like pure white trees. When we drew near we saw that the white on the trees was caused by a colony of egrets sitting on their nests, the surrounding foliage being covered with their droppings. A curious fact in connection with this colony was that when we repassed it on our way down-stream some six weeks after, white spoonbills had taken over the nests and were busy sitting on them, while their earlier occupants, the egrets, were all over the sand-banks, teaching their half-grown progeny how to catch fish, etc.
At the time of our up-stream journey the Egyptian goose was also breeding. On every sand-bank there were scores of ganders, while the geese were hidden away in the vegetation, sitting on their nests. These we found, but always with great difficulty, so well were they hidden.
Fly and game became more and more plentiful as we journeyed on. When I speak of fly I mean tsetse; there were other flies in plenty, but they appeared of no importance beside the fiendish tsetse. We began to see buffalo now, and one day we saw where the river bank had been trampled down. As we approached it became clear that a very large herd of elephants had been there. It was soon evident that the tracks were quite recent, having been made the night before. We found a nice site for camp on an island, where our fires would not be seen by elephant revisiting their drinking place. We hoped that they would come in the night, and sure enough they did so, soon after sundown—such a splashing and rumbling, trumpeting and crashing. Lions were also busy, roaring on both sides of the river. It was a busy spot and one of our happiest camps. From it as base we hunted in all directions. And what a long way the elephant used to go in the daytime from the river. They would come to the river just after sundown when the flies were quiet. There they would spend the night, crashing the evergreen gallery-forest, plastering themselves with mud as a protection against fly on the following day, eating acres of the still green river grass, and generally enjoying themselves. It must be remembered that at this season everything a few yards back from the river is burnt up either by sun or fire. The dry season in these tropical parts is the winter of the Northern Hemisphere, in its effects upon vegetation. Instead of dying off the grass is burnt off. The grass fires wither the leaves on the trees and they fall immediately after. All temporary water, such as pools, puddles, etc., dries up. Fly desert the dry parts and congregate in myriads in the shade of the river forest. But they will follow man or beast for miles into the dry country. It is astounding to look behind one as one leaves the vicinity of the river. Behind each man there is a small cloud of tsetse; they keep about two or three feet from the ground. Each traveller keeps flicking away fly that settle on the man in front of him. It is rather startling at first to receive a hard slap on the back when one is not expecting it. Fly generally got us under the brims of our hats and, when near to buffalo, one would be bitten every thirty seconds. Lucky for us that there were no natives about with sleeping sickness. During the dry season there is not much for elephant to eat away from the river. They pick up a fair lot of tamarind fruit, dig up roots, and chew aloes and sansivera fibre, spitting out the fibre in balls. But it is on the river that they depend for the bulk of their green food and water, and, were it not for fly, they would doubtless remain there day and night.
Early on the following morning W. and I separated, he taking one bank while I took the other. I tracked a large herd back from the river for about five hours’ fairly slow going, as the tracking was difficult. Dry season tracking is difficult because the ground becomes so hard, also because all the old tracks remain, as there is no rain to obliterate them.
About fifteen miles back from their drinking place there were signs of the elephant having left their huge and well-worn trails, scattering right and left into small groups, the better to find their scanty food. We saw plenty of fresh rhino spoor, but this was one of the few days upon which we did not encounter them in the flesh.
We had been disentangling the trail of a large bull and had brought it, through the scores of other tracks, right from the river bank. We were rewarded presently by sighting him by himself, wandering gently on. The country was altogether in favour of the rifle, and he had no chance. But after the shot I was astonished to see elephant emerge from the bushy parts, strolling aimlessly about, apparently quite unscared by the sound of a rifle. I went through crowds and crowds of them, getting a bull here and there. It was many years since I had seen elephant so unacquainted with firearms. They appeared to take the crack of the ·318 for the crack of a breaking tree-stem or something of that sort.
As our hunting operations were all rather similar to the above, except in result, I will pass them over and merely remark on the extraordinary numbers of rhino we met. They were so stupid and so numerous as to be a perfect nuisance. On sighting one we generally tried to avoid him by making a detour, but even then they would sometimes follow us. On several occasions our boys got into trouble with them and they had to be shot in order to avoid accidents. Once, on leaving camp for a few days’ tour in the bush, we started a big cow and a bull from the river bush. They trotted away and I thought no more about them. About an hour afterwards I heard a frantic shout behind me. I looked round, and there was my boy legging it straight towards me, with our two friends of the morning close behind him. The big cow was leading and was quite close to the boy. They were all going their hardest, and really appeared bent on mischief, so I was compelled to shoot the cow and, shortly afterwards, the bull also, as he went barging stupidly about. I sent afterwards for the horns of these rhino when I thought they would be sufficiently rotten to disengage easily. The boy who went for them found the bodies in the possession of three lions, which refused to budge when shouted at. We had provided the boy with a rifle. He said that he fired it at the lions, who took no notice of it, but continued to growl at him. He then had another shot, which hit one of them. They all withdrew a little distance, when the boy had another shot at the wounded one and killed him. He said that the others remained about in the vicinity while he skinned the lion and pulled off the horns of the now putrid rhino.
Besides rhino there were many lions, some of immense size, although with poor manes. Although I knew the Athi Plains in British East Africa in the old days, and many other parts of Africa, I have never seen such numbers of lions. I believe I am correct in stating that every carcase of elephant that we shot during the entire time was found in the possession of at least one lion when visited for the purpose of drawing the tusks. The greatest number that I personally saw round a carcase was five, but when I camped a few hundred yards to windward of some dead elephants we all had a very lively time indeed. Some boys had meat hung up and drying round huge fires too close, as it turned out, to the dead animals. I am safe in saying that from one hour after sundown until one hour before dawn nothing could approach the carcases because of the lions about them. Hyenas and jackals were constantly trying to sneak up to them, only to be chased off with the most terrific growls and rushes by the lions. So impertinent did they become that eventually they occupied with impunity one of the carcases which lay only 15 yds. from the nearest fire. Here they were clearly visible to the boys in the meat camp, and when they first came the boys had tried to drive them off by throwing burning sticks at them. This offensive was so effectually countered by the lions as to cause it to cease at once. The arrival of the first firebrand was greeted with such an appalling outburst of growls, snarls, and showing of teeth as veritably to scare the throwers almost to the point of flight. The lions were not again molested and pursued their scavenging in peace. I spent some days at this spot, as it held the only water for miles around, and one could hear the lions approaching each evening. They commenced to roar about an hour before sundown and continued until they arrived. Where they all disappeared to in the daytime was a mystery, though dogs would have shown them.
MUSGUM VILLAGE: INUNDATED AREA.
Constructed without wooden supports of any kind, and with holes in the top for exit during floods.
This particular camp was also remarkable for the extraordinary number of marabou storks. I had often before seen hundreds of these huge birds collect on a carcase, and I had seen large numbers assembled for the fish which were left high and dry by a receding river, but here they were literally in tens of thousands. And what digestions they have! Huge lumps of elephant offal are snapped up and swallowed. Then when the interior mechanism has received all that it can handle, the foul provender is passed into the great flesh-red sack which depends from the neck. This sack bulges and lengthens until it nearly touches the ground. But what a weary air they have as they flap slowly and heavily away, completely gorged, to a convenient perch, there to digest the putrid mass. As scavengers I should say that five or six marabou would about equal a full-blown incinerator.
As we were so short-handed we found it impossible to cut out the tusks of the elephant we got. Consequently we were obliged to leave them until the action of putrification loosened them in the socket, when they could be drawn. We found that four days were required before this could be done. On the third day the topmost tusk would generally come away, but the under one remained fast. It was owing to this fact that some of our little party had to visit the carcases when they were in a highly advanced state of putrification, and they were invariably found in the possession of one or more lions. Why the lions were such dirty feeders was not apparent. The whole country was seething with game; kob and haartebeeste, giraffe, buffalo, topi and smaller antelope were all numerous. Nearly all cover, such as grass, was burnt off, and it is possible that this made it more difficult for lions to kill.
The skins of these lions were of a peculiarly dark olive tinge for the most part, with the scanty mane of a slightly lighter tint. Some of them were of immense size, and all that we shot were in good condition.
One day our Kabba boy divulged the fact that he had been up the river before. He had come at high water with some companions to gather the leaves of the Borassus palm for making mats. He said that the highest point they had reached lay about a day’s travel ahead of us, and then we should reach a country of palms.
We did so. The whole country became covered with these beautiful palms. The huge fruit hung in dozens from the crowns, while the vultures were nesting among the leaves. As our food consisted chiefly of meat and grain, anything in the shape of fruit was eagerly eaten. We used to stew these palm fruits, each the size of a grape fruit. Although the flesh was almost too stringy to swallow, the juice mixed with honey was excellent.
As we plunged along up-stream one day, what did we see in mid-stream ahead of us but a floating hippo spear, travelling slowly along with the current towards us. These spears are so constructed that the buoyancy of the shank is sufficient to float about one-third of the spear standing straight up out of the water. This enables the hunter to recover his spear when he misses a hippo.
From this floating evidence it was clear that there were natives in the vicinity, and as we were about to pick up the spear we saw its owner’s head watching us from the bank. We salvaged his spear and rested easy, while we tried to talk across the river to him. We tried him in all the native languages known to any member of the safari, but it was not until we tried the Sango tongue of Ubangui watershed that he answered. But he was shy and frightened, and we made little headway. When we offered to bring him his spear he quietly disappeared from view. However, we hoped we had sown good seed by telling him that we were come to hunt elephant, and that all who helped were welcome to the meat. On we went on our way, our progress, as usual, impeded at every pool by hippo. That night we camped on the bank opposite to that of the natives.
Nothing happened. In the morning as we drew out a young water buck was shot for food for the boys—we whites preferred teal. While on the subject of teal I would like to say that we never tired of these birds. We ate them stewed at regular meal times, and we ate them roasted on the spit between meals, cold. We ate them not as we do here, a mere slice or two from the breast; but we each ate one or two whole birds at a sitting.
FEMALE WATER BUCK ON SANDBANK.
As the buck was being skinned we heard a shout from the opposite bank, and there were some natives. This was splendid. On these occasions it is best to show no haste or eagerness, so the skinning and loading of the buck went on methodically. Everything of the buck was taken, as we did not want our newly-found natives to get any meat until we had come to some understanding as to their showing us elephant.
When all were aboard we paddled slowly across to the natives, who were obviously shy. Anchoring the canoe by clinging to the grass, we held a kind of introduction ceremony. Among the natives we were glad to see our friend of yesterday’s hippo-spear incident. We laid bare to them our object in ascending this river, and asked in return with whom we had to deal. They said that they came from the south, to reach their village requiring four days’ travelling without loads. Knowing the kind of thing they meant by this, I estimated the distance at about 180 or 200 miles. They disclosed also that they had originally been under Senussi at Ndélé, that they still paid taxes and found labour for that post, but that since the occupation of the country by the French, following upon the killing of the old Sultan Senussi, they now lived three or four days’ march to the north of the post Ndélé. While Senussi reigned they had been obliged to live in the capital; as with Buba Gida, all the inhabitants of the country for 300 miles round had been “gathered in.” Meanwhile, they said, elephant were now in the neighbourhood and that they could show us them. We were ready in a very few moments to accompany them, merely taking a mosquito net, a small packet of tea and sugar and a kettle. Presently we joined up with some more natives, some of whom were armed with the enormous elephant spear of the Arab elephant hunters, whose country lay to the north. These spears have a leaf-shaped head from 7 ins. to 9 ins. across, and are kept razor-edged. The system of hunting is this. In the dry season, when most of the grass has been burnt off and the harmatan is blowing, all the young bloods arrange an expedition. The harmatan is the north-east monsoon of the Indian Ocean, and is a hard breeze at midday of a velocity of about 30 m.p.h., dry and hot when it comes off the desert, and constant as regards direction. At this season so dry is the air that sound carries no distance, and one may walk up to within a few feet of elephant without fear of discovery. These expeditions sometimes number 300 spears. All the old crocks of horses are raked up. The rich are represented on the expedition by slaves, mostly on foot. All are armed with the huge spears, with their bamboo shanks 10 ft. or 12 ft. long. Off they set for the south, poorly supplied with food, as they reckon to live “tough” on what they can kill. When they set out they and the horses are in very good condition, but when they return the men are haggard and thin, leg-weary and footsore, while most of the horses are bleached and well gnawed skeletons in the bush. Few survive the hard work, poor food, and constant attacks of the tsetse fly. When they meet with the fairly recent trail of a herd of elephant they take it up with tremendous vigour, push along it without a stop until dark, camp, on again next day without a stop, perhaps camp again and eventually sight their quarry. Then those on horses dismount, the protectors are taken off the razor-sharp spear-heads, and all advance shoulder to shoulder, spears held projecting 6 ft. or 7 ft. in front, the flat of the spear-head lying in a horizontal direction. With the harmatan blowing its hardest it is possible for the line of spear-men to come within thrusting distance of the elephants’ sterns, and at a signal the spears are driven in with the aim of cutting the large tendons and arteries. Hence the width of spear-head. In the consequent commotion casualties among the spear-men are frequent, as might be expected. Off go the unwounded animals, the horses are brought, and the chase is again taken up. Now the elephant will not stop for miles and miles, so they must be ridden to a standstill, or nearly so, before another assault on them can be attempted. Away into desperately dry and waterless country they go, but, try as they may, those human devils are always with them. The hardships these latter bear are almost incredible. They seldom have water or food with them. Often they are starving, and their only hope, the death of an elephant. Kill, or die miserably in the bush, is not a bad system and, as might be expected, leads to perfectly awful destruction of elephant life. Ivory is primarily the object, but, as the hunt develops, water and meat become of more importance. Water, I must explain, is obtained from the elephants’ intestines and, although warm, is quite good to drink. In the average herd cows and calves predominate, consequently they suffer most. In the case of this country the coming of the white man is the indirect cause of the destruction of elephant, and not, as in other parts of Africa, the direct cause of their protection. Natives are permitted to hunt elephant in the above manner on payment of a small fee, in order that they may acquire the wherewithal to pay their taxes—a policy short-sighted indeed, when we remember Darwin’s calculation that in 900 years two elephants become a million.
DOE KOB AND CALF WELL CAMOUFLAGED.
With our newly-found friends as guides we were soon on the trail of our game, and by their aid we ran into and killed late in the afternoon. Our friends were simply overjoyed at the sight of so much meat. They became extremely friendly, cutting grass for my bed, fetching wood and water, ready to do anything. From being rather surly and reserved they became very communicative. As they roasted tit-bits from the elephants on their fires nothing but shouts of laughter and merry chatter could be heard. And when, later, we had all eaten and everyone was smoking—for they carried tobacco—they told me more of themselves. I found that they all talked Sango. They said that every dry season they came to the Bahr Aouck to hunt hippo or elephant, but that so far they had had no luck. During the rains the whole country for miles on either side was under water. No villages existed nearer the river than theirs. They knew the river up to the point where it issued from Lake Mamun. This item was a complete surprise to me, for I had never heard it even suggested that the Bahr Aouck issued from that lake. I pressed my enquiries among the older men, and arrived at the information that shortly after leaving the lake the Bahr Aouck was joined by another river which came from a country I knew to be within the Egyptian Sudan border. I asked after the natives of Lake Mamun, who were supposed to live on the waters themselves, constructing for that purpose huts on piles. They told me that since the slave-raids had ceased, when Senussi was shot by the French, the natives had abandoned their lake dwellings and now lived on the shores like normal people. They said that the whole country ahead was teeming with game. I had learnt more in half an hour round the camp-fire with full bellies than weeks of intercourse in the ordinary way would have yielded. Such is the power of meat on the African.
ARAB SPEAR FOR HAM-STRINGING ELEPHANT.
This system of penetrating the country by feeding the natives has the disadvantage that if you kill a large animal they dry the meat they cannot eat and take it home to their villages, when it can be bartered for all kinds of commodities. Therefore you have constantly to be making new acquaintances. Everything else is entirely in its favour, not the least being its economy. They will carry light loads for you for days through the bush, hunt diligently for game, chop out and carry to the base any ivory you may get. If you are within fifty miles or so of villages the women bring food of all sorts, and it is seldom that a few eggs—more or less fresh—are not forthcoming for the white man. Then they hold dances in the camps. When there are plenty of young girls about these dances become rather loose affairs. The usual restraints of village life seem to be relaxed in the bush, and everyone enjoys himself or herself to the utmost. Abundance of animal food has a curious effect on natives. Where they inhabit stockless country they go months without flesh, with the exception of an occasional rat or mongoose or bird. The craving for meat becomes intense, and is, in my opinion, the cause of cannibalism. Then when they suddenly become possessed of almost unlimited meat they simply gorge themselves. A man will eat 15 lb. or 20 lb. in the twenty-four hours. All night long he eats and dozes, then eats again. This turns him a peculiar dull matt colour and yellow in the eyes. On the third day he has completely recovered from this and is again full of energy. In a very short time he wants his grain food again, and if he has the choice will eat a large portion of grain to a small portion of meat. If, as with elephant, there is a good proportion of fat, natives become extremely fit on these rations. As an example of this I can cite the case of a “kilangozi,” or head porter, of mine. This man, of slight build, carried a tusk weighing 148 lb. plus his mat, blanket and rations, another 15 lb., for sixty-three days’ consecutive marching. The shortest day was five hours, and some were very long indeed. He had as rations throughout this march 2 lb. of native grain each day and as much meat as he cared for with elephant fat. His condition was magnificent throughout.
THE KILANGOZI OR HEAD PORTER WHO CARRIED THIS TUSK (148 LBS.) FOR SIXTY-THREE CONSECUTIVE MARCHING DAYS.
In the morning I pushed off to look for elephant. The natives promised to cut out the tusks and to bring them to the canoes, which they faithfully did.
After hunting in this region for some days, during which we saw many lion and killed six, we pushed on up-stream again. We were soon held up by more elephant and more natives. The news of our doings had already reached the villages south of us, and we had a continuous stream of natives coming hungry to us, carrying our bush loads all over the country, to be rewarded eventually with meat, and then stopping to smoke it while their places were taken by newcomers. So prolific in game was the country that we never reached Lake Mamun, as we had intended. Our time was up, food exhausted and canoes laden. So one fine day we decided to return.
