The next day, after a three and a half hours' rapid march, we
crossed the mtoni - which was no mtoni - separating Kigwa from
Unyanyembe district, and after a short halt to quench our thirst,
in three and a half hours more arrived at Shiza. It was a most
delightful march, though a long one, for its picturesqueness of
scenery which every few minutes was revealed, and the proofs we
everywhere saw of the peaceable and industrious disposition of the
people. A short half hour from Shiza we beheld the undulating
plain wherein the Arabs have chosen to situate the central depot
which commands such wide and extensive field of trade. The
lowing of cattle and the bleating of the goats and sheep were
everywhere heard, giving the country a happy, pastoral aspect.
The Sultan of Shiza desired me to celebrate my arrival in
Unyanyembe, with a five-gallon jar of pombe, which he brought
for that purpose.
As the pombe was but stale ale in taste, and milk and water in
colour, after drinking a small glassful I passed it to the delighted
soldiers and pagazis. At my request the Sultan brought a fine fat
bullock, for which he accepted four and a half doti of Merikani.
The bullock was immediately slaughtered and served out to the
caravan as a farewell feast.
No one slept much that night, and long before the dawn the fires
were lit, and great steaks were broiling, that their stomachs might
rejoice before parting with the Musungu, whose bounty they had so
often tasted. Six rounds of powder were served to each soldier and
pagazi who owned a gun, to fire away when we should be near the
Arab houses. The meanest pagazi had his best cloth about his
loins, and some were exceedingly brave in gorgeous Ulyah "Coombeesa
Poonga" and crimson "Jawah," the glossy "Rehani," and the neat
"Dabwani." The soldiers were mustered in new tarbooshes, and the
long white shirts of the Mrima and the Island. For this was the
great and happy day which had been on our tongues ever since quitting
the coast, for which we had made those noted marches latterly - one
hundred and seventy-eight and a half miles in sixteen days,
including pauses - something over eleven miles a day
The signal sounded and the caravan was joyfully off with banners
flying, and trumpets and horns blaring. A short two and a half
hours' march brought us within sight of Kwikuru, which is about
two miles south of Tabora, the main Arab town; on the outside of
which we saw a long line of men in clean shirts, whereat we opened
our charged batteries, and fired a volley of small arms such
as Kwikuru seldom heard before. The pagazis closed up and adopted
the swagger of veterans: the soldiers blazed away uninterruptedly,
while I, seeing that the Arabs were advancing towards me, left the
ranks, and held out my hand, which was immediately grasped by Sheikh
Sayd bin Salim, and then by about two dozen people, and thus our
entrée into Unyanyembe was effected.
CHAPTER VIII. MY LIFE AND TROUBLES DURING MY RESIDENCE IN UNYAS
NYEMBE. I BECOME ENGAGED IN A WAR.
I received a noiseless ovation as I walked side by side with the
governor, Sayd bin Salim, towards his tembe in Kwikuru, or the
capital. The Wanyamwezi pagazis were out by hundreds, the
warriors of Mkasiwa, the sultan, hovered around their chief, the
children were seen between the legs of their parents, even infants,
a few months old, slung over their mothers' backs, all paid the
tribute due to my colour, with one grand concentrated stare. The
only persons who talked with me were the Arabs, and aged Mkasiwa,
ruler of Unyanyembe.
Sayd bin Salim's house was at the north-western corner of the
inclosure, a stockaded boma of Kwikuru. We had tea made in a
silver tea-pot, and a bountiful supply of "dampers" were smoking
under a silver cover; and to this repast I was invited. When a
man has walked eight miles or so without any breakfast, and a hot
tropical sun has been shining on him for three or four hours, he is
apt to do justice to a meal, especially if his appetite is
healthy. I think I astonished the governor by the dexterous way
in which I managed to consume eleven cups of his aromatic
concoction of an Assam herb, and the easy effortless style with
which I demolished his high tower of "slap jacks," that but a
minute or so smoked hotly under their silver cover.
For the meal, I thanked the Sheikh, as only an earnest and
sincerely hungry man, now satisfied, could thank him. Even if
I had not spoken, my gratified looks had well informed him, under
what obligations I had been laid to him.
Out came my pipe and tobacco-pouch.
"My friendly Sheikh, wilt thou smoke?"
"No, thanks! Arabs never smoke."
"Oh, if you don't, perhaps you would not object to me smoking,
in order to assist digestion?"
"Ngema - good - go on, master."
Then began the questions, the gossipy, curious, serious, light
questions:
"How came the master?
"By the Mpwapwa road."
"It is good. Was the Makata bad?"
"Very bad."
"What news from Zanzibar?"
"Good; Syed Toorkee has possession of Muscat, and Azim bin Ghis
was slain in the streets."
"Is this true, Wallahi?" (by God.)
"It is true."
"Heh-heh-h! This is news!" - stroking his beard.
"Have you heard, master, of Suleiman bin Ali?"
"Yes, the Bombay governor sent him to Zanzibar, in a
man-of-war, and Suleiman bin Ali now lies in the gurayza (fort)."
"Heh, that is very good."
"Did you have to pay much tribute to the Wagogo?"
"Eight times; Hamed Kimiani wished me to go by Kiwyeh, but I
declined, and struck through the forest to Munieka.
