The next day after arriving at Marefu we plunged westward,
in view of the villagers, and the Arab ambassador, who kept
repeating until the last moment that we should "certainly catch
it."
We marched eight hours through a forest, where the forest peach,
or the "mbembu," is abundant. The tree that bears this fruit is
very like a pear-tree, and is very productive. I saw one tree,
upon which I estimated there were at least six or seven bushels.
I ate numbers of the peaches on this day. So long as this fruit
can be produced, a traveller in these regions need not fear starvation.
At the base of a graceful hilly cone we found a village called
Utende, the inhabitants of which were in a state of great alarm,
as we suddenly appeared on the ridge above them. Diplomacy urged
me to send forward a present of one doti to the Sultan, who, however,
would not accept it, because he happened to be drunk with pombe,
and was therefore disposed to be insolent. Upon being informed
that he would refuse any present, unless he received four more
cloths, I immediately ordered a strong boma to be constructed on
the summits of a little hill, near enough to a plentiful supply of
water, and quietly again packed up the present in the bale. I
occupied a strategically chosen position, as I could have swept
the face of the hill, and the entire space between its base and the
village of Watende. Watchmen were kept on the look-out all night;
but we were fortunately not troubled until the morning; when a
delegation of the principal men came to ask if I intended to depart
without having made a present to the chief. I replied to them that
I did not intend passing through any country without making
friends with the chief; and if their chief would accept a good
cloth from me, I would freely give it to him. Though they
demurred at the amount of the present at first, the difference
between us was finally ended by my adding a fundo of red beads -
sami-sami - for the chief's wife.
From the hill and ridge of Utende sloped a forest for miles and
miles westerly, which was terminated by a grand and smooth-topped
ridge rising 500 or 600 feet above the plain.
A four hours' march, on the 12th of October, brought us to a
nullah similar to the Gombe, which, during the wet season, flows
to the Gombe River, and thence into the Malagarazi River.
A little before camping we saw a herd of nimba, or pallah; I had
the good fortune to shoot one, which was a welcome addition to our
fast diminishing store of dried meats, prepared in our camp on the
Gombe. By the quantity of bois de vaches, we judged buffaloes
were plentiful here, as well as elephant and rhinoceros. The
feathered species were well represented by ibis, fish-eagles,
pelicans, storks, cranes, several snowy spoon-bills, and
flamingoes.
From the nullah, or mtoni, we proceeded to Mwaru, the principal
village of the district of Mwaru, the chief of which is Ka-mirambo.
Our march lay over desolated clearings once occupied by Ka-mirambo's
people, but who were driven away by Mkasiwa some ten years ago,
during his warfare against Manwa Sera. Niongo, the brother of the
latter, now waging war against Mbogo, had passed through Mwaru the
day before we arrived, after being defeated by his enemy.
The hilly ridge that bounded the westward horizon, visible from
Utende, was surmounted on this day. The western slope trends
south-west, and is drained by the River Mrera, which empties into
the Malagarazi River. We perceived the influence of the Tanganika,
even here, though we were yet twelve or fifteen marches from the
lake. The jungles increased in density, and the grasses became
enormously tall; these points reminded us of the maritime districts
of Ukwere and Ukami.
We heard from a caravan at this place, just come from Ufipa, that a
white man was reported to be in "Urua," whom I supposed to mean
Livingstone.
Upon leaving Mwaru we entered the district of Mrera, a chief who
once possessed great power and influence over this region. Wars,
however, have limited his possessions to three or four villages
snugly embosomed within a jungle, whose outer rim is so dense that
it serves like a stone wall to repel invaders. There were nine
bleached skulls, stuck on the top of as many poles, before the
principal gate of entrance, which told us of existing feuds between
the Wakonongo and the Wazavira. This latter tribe dwelt in a
country a few marches west of us; whose territory we should have
to avoid, unless we sought another opportunity to distinguish
ourselves in battle with the natives. The Wazavira, we were told
by the Wakonongo of Mrera, were enemies to all Wangwana.
In a narrow strip of marsh between Mwaru and Mrera, we saw a small
herd of wild elephants. It was the first time I had ever seen
these animals in their native wildness, and my first impressions
of them I shall not readily forget. I am induced to think that
the elephant deserves the title of "king of beasts." His huge form,
the lordly way in which he stares at an intruder on his domain,
and his whole appearance indicative of conscious might, afford
good grounds for his claim to that title. This herd, as we passed
it at the distance of a mile, stopped to survey the caravan as it
passed: and, after having satisfied their curiosity, the elephants
trooped into the forest which bounded the marshy plain southward,
as if caravans were every-day things to them, whilst they - the free
and unconquerable lords of the forest and the marsh - had nothing
in common with the cowardly bipeds, who never found courage to face
them in fair combat.
