The country is gloriously lovely if one could only see it for the
rain and mist; but one only gets dim hints of its beauty when some
cold draughts of wind come down from the great mountains and seem to
push open the mist-veil as with spirit hands, and then in a minute
let it fall together again. I do not expect to reach Buea within
regulation time, but at 11.30 my men say "we close in," and then,
coming along a forested hill and down a ravine, we find ourselves
facing a rushing river, wherein a squad of black soldiers are
washing clothes, with the assistance of a squad of black ladies,
with much uproar and sky-larking. I too think it best to wash here,
standing in the river and swishing the mud out of my skirts; and
then wading across to the other bank, I wring out my skirts. The
ground on the further side of the river is cleared of bush, and only
bears a heavy crop of balsam; a few steps onwards bring me in view
of a corrugated iron-roofed, plank-sided house, in front of which,
towards the great mountain which now towers up into the mist, is a
low clearing with a quadrangle of native huts - the barracks.
I receive a most kindly welcome from a fair, grey-eyed German
gentleman, only unfortunately I see my efforts to appear before him
clean and tidy have been quite unavailing, for he views my
appearance with unmixed horror, and suggests an instant hot bath. I
decline. Men can be trying! How in the world is any one going to
take a bath in a house with no doors, and only very sketchy wooden
window-shutters?
The German officer is building the house quickly, as Ollendorff
would say, but he has not yet got to such luxuries as doors, and so
uses army blankets strung across the doorway; and he has got up
temporary wooden shutters to keep the worst of the rain out, and
across his own room's window he has a frame covered with greased
paper. Thank goodness he has made a table, and a bench, and a
washhand-stand out of planks for his spare room, which he kindly
places at my disposal; and the Fatherland has evidently stood him an
iron bedstead and a mattress for it. But the Fatherland is not
spoiling or cosseting this man to an extent that will enervate him
in the least.
The mist clears off in the evening about five, and the surrounding
scenery is at last visible. Fronting the house there is the cleared
quadrangle, facing which on the other three sides are the lines of
very dilapidated huts, and behind these the ground rises steeply,
the great S.E. face of Mungo Mah Lobeh. It looks awfully steep when
you know you have got to go up it. This station at Buea is 3,000
feet above sea-level, which explains the hills we have had to come
up. The mountain wall when viewed from Buea is very grand, although
it lacks snowcap or glacier, and the highest summits of Mungo are
not visible because we are too close under them, but its enormous
bulk and its isolation make it highly impressive. The forest runs
up it in a great band above Buea, then sends up great tongues into
the grass belt above. But what may be above this grass belt I know
not yet, for our view ends at the top of the wall of the great S.E.
crater. My men say there are devils and gold up beyond, but the
German authorities do not support this view. Those Germans are so
sceptical. This station is evidently on a ledge, for behind it the
ground falls steeply, and you get an uninterrupted panoramic view of
the Cameroon estuary and the great stretches of low swamp lands with
the Mungo and the Bimbia rivers, and their many creeks and channels,
and far away east the strange abrupt forms of the Rumby Mountains.
Herr Liebert says you can see Cameroon Government buildings from
here, if only the day is clear, though they are some forty miles
away. This view of them is, save a missionary of the Basel mission,
the only white society available at Buea.
I hear more details about the death of poor Freiherr von
Gravenreuth, whose fine monument of a seated lion I saw in the
Government House grounds in Cameroons the other day. Bush fighting
in these West African forests is dreadfully dangerous work. Hemmed
in by bush, in a narrow path along which you must pass slowly in
single file, you are a target for all and any natives invisibly
hidden in the undergrowth; and the war-hedge of Buea must have made
an additional danger and difficulty here for the attacking party.
The lieutenant and his small band of black soldiers had, after a
stiff fight, succeeded in forcing the entrance to this, when their
ammunition gave out, and they had to fall back. The Bueans,
regarding this as their victory, rallied, and a chance shot killed
the lieutenant instantly. A further expedition was promptly sent up
from Victoria and it wiped the error out of the Buean mind and
several Bueans with it. But it was a very necessary expedition.
These natives were a constant source of danger to the more peaceful
trading tribes, whom they would not permit to traverse their
territory. The Bueans have been dealt with mercifully by the
Germans, for their big villages, like Sapa, are still standing, and
a continual stream of natives come into the barrack-yard, selling
produce, or carrying it on down to Victoria markets, in a perfectly
content and cheerful way. I met this morning a big burly chief with
his insignia of office - a great stick.
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