Listen, sons of Mkasiwa, children of
Unyamwezi! the journey is before you, the thieves of the forest
are waiting; yes, they are thieves, they cut up your caravans,
they steal your ivory, they murder your women. Behold, the Arabs
are with you, El Wali of the Arab sultan, and the white man are
with you. Go, the son of Mkasiwa is with you; fight; kill, take
slaves, take cloth, take cattle, kill, eat, and fill yourselves!
Go!"
"A loud, wild shout followed this bold harangue, the gates of the
village were thrown open, and blue, red, and white-robed soldiers
were bounding upward like so many gymnasts; firing their guns
incessantly, in order to encourage themselves with noise, or to
strike terror into the hearts of those who awaited us within the
strong enclosure of Zimbizo, Sultan Kolongo's place.
As Zimbizo was distant only five hours from Umanda, at 11 A.M.
we came in view of it. We halted on the verge of the cultivated
area around it and its neighbours within the shadow of the forest.
Strict orders had been given by the several chiefs to their
respective commands not to fire, until they were within shooting
distance of the boma.
Khamis bin Abdullah crept through the forest to the west of the
village. The Wanyamwezi took their position before the main
gateway, aided by the forces of Soud the son of Sayd on the right,
and the son of Habib on the left, Abdullah, Mussoud, myself, and
others made ready to attack the eastern gates, which arrangement
effectually shut them in, with the exception of the northern side.
