We were encamped ten days on a hill near Rehenneko, or until the
25th, when, the rain having entirely ceased, we resolved to
attempt the crossing of the Makata. The bales of cloth had all
been distributed as presents to the men for their work, except a
small quantity which I retained for the food of my own mess.
But we should have waited a month longer, for the inundation had
not abated four inches. However, after we once struggled up to our
necks in water it was use less to turn back. For two marches of
eight hours each we plunged through slush, mire, deep sloughs,
water up to our necks, and muddy cataclysms, swam across nullahs,
waded across gullies, and near sunset of the second day arrived on
the banks of the Makata River. My people are not likely to
forget that night; not one of them was able to sleep until it was
long past midnight, because of the clouds of mosquitoes, which
threatened to eat us all up; and when the horn sounded for the
march of another day, there was not one dissentient amongst them.
It was 5 A.M. when we began the crossing of the Makata River, but
beyond it for six miles stretched one long lake, the waters of
which flowed gently towards the Wami. This was the confluence of
the streams: four rivers were here gathered into one. The natives
of Kigongo warned us not to attempt it, as the water was over our
heads; but I had only to give a hint to the men, and we set on our
way. Even the water - we were getting quite amphibious - was better
than the horrible filth and piles of decaying vegetation which
were swept against the boma of the village.
We were soon up to our armpits, then the water shallowed to the
knee, then we stepped up to the neck, and waded on tiptoe,
supporting the children above the water; and the same experiences
occurred as those which we suffered the day before, until we were
halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the
rate of eight knots an hour; but it was only fifty yards wide,
and beyond it rose a high bank, and dry park-lands which extended
as far as Simbo. We had no other option than to swim it; but it
was a slow operation, the current was so swift and strong.
Activity and zeal, high rewards, presents of money, backed by the
lively feeling that we were nearing home, worked wonders, and in
a couple of hours we were beyond the Makata.
Cheery and hopeful, we sped along the dry, smooth path that now
lay before us, with the ardor and vivacity of heroes, and the
ease and power of veterans, We rolled three ordinary marches
into one that day, and long before night arrived at Simbo.
On the 29th we crossed the Ungerengeri, and as we came to
Simbamwenni-the "Lion City" of Useguhha - lo! what a change!
The flooded river had swept the entire front wall of the
strongly-walled city away, and about fifty houses had been
destroyed by the torrent. Villages of Waruguru, on the slopes
of the Uruguru Mountains - Mkambaku range - had also suffered
disastrously. If one-fourth of the reports we heard were true,
at least a hundred people must have perished.
The Sultana had fled, and the stronghold of Kimbengo was no more!
A deep canal that he had caused to be excavated when alive, to
bring a branch of the Ungerengeri near his city - which was his glory
and boast - proved the ruin of Simbamwenni. After the destruction
of the place the river had formed a new bed, about 300 yards from
the city. But what astonished us most were the masses of debris
which seemed to be piled everywhere, and the great numbers of trees
that were prostrate; and they all seemed to lie in the same direction,
as if a strong wind had come from the south-west. The aspect of
the Ungerengeri valley was completely changed - from a Paradise
it was converted into a howling waste.
We continued our march until we reached Ulagalla, and it was
evident, as we advanced, that an unusual storm had passed over
the land, for the trees in some places seemed to lie in swathes.
A most fatiguing and long march brought us to Mussoudi, on the
eastern bank of the Ungerengeri; but long before we reached it we
realized that a terrific destruction of human life and property
had occurred. The extent and nature of the calamity may be
imagined, when I state that nearly ONE HUNDRED VILLAGES, according
to Mussoudi's report, were swept away.
Mussoudi, the Diwan, says that the inhabitants had gone to rest
as usual - as they had done ever since he had settled in the valley,
twenty-five years ago - when, in the middle of the night, they heard
a roar like many thunders, which woke them up to the fact that
death was at work in the shape of an enormous volume of water,
that, like a wall, came down, tearing the tallest trees
with it, carrying away scores of villages at one fell, sure swoop
into utter destruction. The scene six days after the event - when
the river has subsided into its normal breadth and depth during
the monsoons - is simply awful. Wherever we look, we find something
very suggestive of the devastation that has visited the country;
fields of corn are covered with many feet of sand and debris; the
sandy bed the river has deserted is about a mile wide; and there
are but three villages standing of all that I noticed when en route
to Unyanyembe.
