About 10 A.M., a messenger came from Tabora, asking us if we were
not going to assist them against Mirambo. I felt very much like
going out to help them; but after debating long upon the pros and
cons of it, - asking myself, Was it prudent? Ought I to go? What
will become of the people if I were killed? Will they not desert
me again? What was the fate of Khamis bin Abdullah? - I sent word
that I would not go; that they ought to feel perfectly at home in
their tembes against such a force as Mirambo had, that I should
be glad if they could induce him to come to Kwihara, in which
case I would try and pick him off.
They say that Mirambo, and his principal officer, carry umbrellas
over their heads, that he himself has long hair like a Mnyamwezi
pagazi, and a beard. If he comes, all the men carrying umbrellas
will have bullets rained on them in the hope that one lucky bullet
may hit him. According to popular ideas, I should make a silver
bullet, but I have no silver with me. I might make a gold one.
About, noon I went over to see Sheikh bin Nasib, leaving about
100 men inside the house to guard it while I was absent. This old
fellow is quite a philosopher in his way. I should call him a
professor of minor philosophy. He is generally so sententious -
fond of aphorisms, and a very deliberate character. I was
astonished to find him so despairing. His aphorisms have
deserted him, his philosophy has not been able to stand against
disaster. He listened to me, more like a moribund, than one
possessing all the means of defence and offence.
I loaded his two-pounder with ball, and grape, and small slugs of
iron, and advised him not to fire it until Mirambo's people were at
his gates.
About 4 p.m. I heard that Mirambo had deported himself to Kazima,
a place north-west of Tabora a couple of miles.
August 26th. - The Arabs sallied out this morning to attack Kazima,
but refrained, because Mirambo asked for a day's grace, to eat the
beef he had stolen from them. He has asked them impudently to
come to-morrow morning, at which time he says he will give them
plenty of fighting,
Kwihara is once more restored to a peaceful aspect, and fugitives
no longer throng its narrow limits in fear and despair.
August 27th. - Mirambo retreated during the night; and when the
Arabs went in force to attack his village of Kazima, they found it
vacant.
The Arabs hold councils of war now-a-days - battle meetings, of
which they seem to be very fond, but extremely slow to act upon.
They were about to make friends with the northern Watuta, but
Mirambo was ahead of them. They had talked of invading Mirambo's
territory the second time, but Mirambo invaded Unyanyembe with
fire and sword, bringing death to many a household, and he has
slain the noblest of them all.
The Arabs spend their hours in talking and arguing, while the Ujiji
and Karagwah roads are more firmly closed than ever. Indeed many
of the influential Arabs are talking of returning to Zanzibar;
saying, "Unyanyembe is ruined."
Meanwhile, with poor success, however, perceiving the impossibility
of procuring Wanyamwezi pagazis, I am hiring the Wangwana renegades
living in Unyanyembe to proceed with me to Ujiji, at treble prices.
Each man is offered 30 doti, ordinary hire of a carrier being only
from 5 to 10 doti to Ujiji. I want fifty men. I intend to leave
about sixty or seventy loads here under charge of a guard. I
shall leave all personal baggage behind, except one small
portmanteau.
August 28th. - No news to-day of Mirambo. Shaw is getting strong
again.
Sheikh bin Nasib called on me to-day, but, except on minor
philosophy, he had nothing to say.
I have determined, after a study of the country, to lead a flying
caravan to Ujiji, by a southern road through northern Ukonongo
and Ukawendi. Sheikh bin Nasib has been informed to-night of
this determination.
August 29th. - Shaw got up to-day for a little work. Alas! all my
fine-spun plans of proceeding by boat over the Victoria N'Yanza,
thence down the Nile, have been totally demolished, I fear,
through this war with Mirambo - this black Bonaparte. Two months
have been wasted here already. The Arabs take such a long time to
come to a conclusion. Advice is plentiful, and words are as
numerous as the blades of grass in our valley; all that is wanting
indecision. The Arabs' hope and stay is dead - Khamis bin Abdullah
is no more. Where are the other warriors of whom the Wangwana
and Wanyamwezi bards sing? Where is mighty Kisesa - great Abdullah
bin Nasib? Where is Sayd, the son of Majid? Kisesa is in
Zanzibar, and Sayd, the son of Majid, is in Ujiji, as yet
ignorant that his son has fallen in the forest of Wilyankuru.
Shaw is improving fast. I am unsuccessful as yet in procuring
soldiers. I almost despair of ever being able to move from here.
It is such a drowsy, sleepy, slow, dreaming country. Arabs,
Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, are all alike - all careless how time flies.
Their to-morrow means sometimes within a month. To me it is
simply maddening.
August 30th. - Shaw will not work. I cannot get him to stir
himself. I have petted him and coaxed him; I have even cooked
little luxuries for him myself. And, while I am straining
every nerve to get ready for Ujiji, Shaw is satisfied with
looking on listlessly. What a change from the ready-handed bold
man he was at Zanzibar!
I sat down by his side to-day with my palm and needle in order
to encourage him, and to-day, for the first time, I told him of
the real nature of my mission.
