A well-known missionary at
Constantinople recommends travellers to take 3 grains of
tartar-emetic for the ejection of the bilious matter in the
stomach; but the reverend doctor possibly forgets that much more
of the system is disorganized than the stomach; and though in
one or two cases of a slight attack, this remedy may have proved
successful, it is altogether too violent for an enfeebled man
in Africa. I have treated myself faithfully after this method
three or four times; but I could not conscientiously recommend it.
For cases of urticaria, I could recommend taking 3 grains of
tartar-emetic; but then a stomach-pump would answer the purpose
as well.
On the 27th we set out for Misonghi. About half-way I saw the
head of the Expedition on the run, and the motive seemed to be
communicated quickly, man after man, to those behind, until my
donkey commenced to kick, and lash behind with his heels. In a
second, I was made aware of the cause of this excitement, by a
cloud of wild bees buzzing about my head, three or four of which
settled on my face, and stung me frightfully. We raced madly for
about half a mile, behaving in as wild a manner as the poor
bestung animals.
As this was an unusually long march, I doubted if the Doctor could
march it, because his feet were so sore, so I determined to send
four men back with the kitanda; but the stout old hero refused to
be carried, and walked all the way to camp after a march of
eighteen miles. He had been stung dreadfully in the head and
in the face; the bees had settled in handfuls in his hair; but,
after partaking of a cup of warm tea and some food, he was as
cheerful as if he had never travelled a mile.
At Mrera, Central Ukonongo, we halted a day to grind grain, and
to prepare the provision we should need during the transit of
the wilderness between Mrera and Manyara.
On the 31st of January, at Mwaru, Sultan Ka-mirambo, we met a
caravan under the leadership of a slave of Sayd bin Habib, who
came to visit us in our camp, which was hidden in a thick clump
of jungle. After he was seated, and had taken his coffee,
I asked,
"What is thy news, my friend, that thou bast brought from
Unyanyembe?"
"My news is good, master."
"How goes the war?"
"Ah, Mirambo is where? He eats the hides even. He
is famished. Sayd bin Habib, my master, hath possession of
Kirira. The Arabs are thundering at the gates of Wilyankuru.
Sayd bin Majid, who came from Ujiji to Usagozi in twenty days,
hath taken and slain `Moto' (Fire), the King. Simba of Kasera
hath taken up arms for the defence of his father, Mkasiwa of
Unyanyembe. The chief of Ugunda hath sent five hundred men
to the field. Ough - Mirambo is where? In a month he will
be dead of hunger."
"Great and good news truly, my friend."
"Yes-in the name of God."
"And whither art thou bound with thy caravan?"
"Sayd, the son of Majid, who came from Ujiji, hath told us of
the road that the white man took, that he had arrived at Ujiji
safely, and that he was on his way back to Unyanyembe. So we
have thought that if the white man could go there, we could also.
Lo, the Arabs come by the hundred by the white man's road, to
get the ivory from Ujiji.
"I am that white man."
"You?"
« Yes."
" Why it was reported that you were dead - that you fought with
the Wazavira."
"Ah, my friend, these are the words of Njara, the son of Khamis.
See" (pointing to Livingstone), "this is the white man, my
father *, whom I saw at Ujiji. He is going with me to Unyanyembe
to get his cloth, after which he will return to the great waters."
__________________
** It is a courteous custom in Africa to address elderly people as
" Baba," (Father.)
__________________
"Wonderful! - thou sayest truly."
"What has thou to tell me of the white man at Unyanyembe?"
"Which white man?"
"The white man I left in the house of Sayd, the son of Salim - my
house - at Kwihara."
" He is dead."
" Dead!"
"True."
"You do not mean to say the white man is dead?"
"True - he is dead."
"How long ago?"
"Many months now."
"What did he die of?"
"Homa (fever)."
"Any more of my people dead?"
"I know not."
" Enough." I looked sympathetically at the Doctor, and he replied,
"I told you so. When you described him to me as a drunken man,
I knew he could not live. Men who have been habitual drunkards
cannot live in this country, any more than men who have become
slaves to other vices. I attribute the deaths that occurred in
my expedition on the Zambezi to much the same cause."
"Ah, Doctor, there are two of us gone. I shall be the third,
if this fever lasts much longer."
"Oh no, not at all. If you would have died from fever, you would
have died at Ujiji when you had that severe attack of remittent.
Don't think of it. Your fever now is only the result of exposure
to wet. I never travel during the wet season. This time I have
travelled because I was anxious, and I did not wish to detain you
at Ujiji."
"Well, there is nothing like a good friend at one's back in this
country to encourage him, and keep his spirits up. Poor Shaw!
I am sorry - very sorry for him. How many times have I not
endeavoured to cheer him up!
