A Popular Account of Dr. Livingstone's Expedition to the Zambesi and Its Tributaries

Pangola is the child or vassal of Mpendé.  Sandia and Mpendé are the only independent chiefs from Kebrabasa to Zumbo, and belong to the tribe Manganja.  The country north of the mountains here in sight from the Zambesi is called Senga, and its inhabitants Asenga, or Basenga, but all appear to be of the same family as the rest of the Manganja and Maravi.  Formerly all the Manganja were united under the government of their great chief, Undi, whose empire extended from Lake Shirwa to the River Loangwa; but after Undi’s death it fell to pieces, and a large portion of it on the Zambesi was absorbed by their powerful southern neighbours the Banyai.  This has been the inevitable fate of every African empire from time immemorial.  A chief of more than ordinary ability arises and, subduing all his less powerful neighbours, founds a kingdom, which he governs more or less wisely till he dies.  His successor not having the talents of the conqueror cannot retain the dominion, and some of the abler under-chiefs set up for themselves, and, in a few years, the remembrance only of the empire remains.  This, which may be considered as the normal state of African society, gives rise to frequent and desolating wars, and the people long in vain for a power able to make all dwell in peace.  In this light, a European colony would be considered by the natives as an inestimable boon to intertropical Africa.  Thousands of industrious natives would gladly settle round it, and engage in that peaceful pursuit of agriculture and trade of which they are so fond, and, undistracted by wars or rumours of wars, might listen to the purifying and ennobling truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  The Manganja on the Zambesi, like their countrymen on the Shiré, are fond of agriculture; and, in addition to the usual varieties of food, cultivate tobacco and cotton in quantities more than equal to their wants.  To the question, “Would they work for Europeans?” an affirmative answer may be given, if the Europeans belong to the class which can pay a reasonable price for labour, and not to that of adventurers who want employment for themselves.  All were particularly well clothed from Sandia’s to Pangola’s; and it was noticed that all the cloth was of native manufacture, the product of their own looms.  In Senga a great deal of iron is obtained from the ore and manufactured very cleverly.

As is customary when a party of armed strangers visits the village, Pangola took the precaution of sleeping in one of the outlying hamlets.  No one ever knows, or at any rate will tell, where the chief sleeps.  He came not next morning, so we went our way; but in a few moments we saw the rifle-loving chief approaching with some armed men.  Before meeting us, he left the path and drew up his “following” under a tree, expecting us to halt, and give him a chance of bothering us again; but, having already had enough of that, we held right on: he seemed dumbfoundered, and could hardly believe his own eyes.  For a few seconds he was speechless, but at last recovered so far as to be able to say, “You are passing Pangola.  Do you not see Pangola?”  Mbia was just going by at the time with the donkey, and, proud of every opportunity of airing his small stock of English, shouted in reply, “All right! then get on.”  “Click, click, click.”

On the 26th June we breakfasted at Zumbo, on the left bank of the Loangwa, near the ruins of some ancient Portuguese houses.  The Loangwa was too deep to be forded, and there were no canoes on our side.  Seeing two small ones on the opposite shore, near a few recently erected huts of two half-castes from Tette, we halted for the ferry-men to come over.  From their movements it was evident that they were in a state of rollicking drunkenness.  Having a waterproof cloak, which could be inflated into a tiny boat, we sent Mantlanyané across in it.  Three half-intoxicated slaves then brought us the shaky canoes, which we lashed together and manned with our own canoe-men.  Five men were all that we could carry over at a time; and after four trips had been made the slaves began to clamour for drink; not receiving any, as we had none to give, they grew more insolent, and declared that not another man should cross that day.  Sininyané was remonstrating with them, when a loaded musket was presented at him by one of the trio.  In an instant the gun was out of the rascal’s hands, a rattling shower of blows fell on his back, and he took an involuntary header into the river.  He crawled up the bank a sad and sober man, and all three at once tumbled from the height of saucy swagger to a low depth of slavish abjectness.  The musket was found to have an enormous charge, and might have blown our man to pieces, but for the promptitude with which his companions administered justice in a lawless land.  We were all ferried safely across by 8 o’clock in the evening.

In illustration of what takes place where no government, or law exists, the two half-castes, to whom these men belonged, left Tette, with four hundred slaves, armed with the old Sepoy Brown Bess, to hunt elephants and trade in ivory.  On our way up, we heard from natives of their lawless deeds, and again, on our way down, from several, who had been eyewitnesses of the principal crime, and all reports substantially agreed.  The story is a sad one.  After the traders reached Zumbo, one of them, called by the natives Sequasha, entered into a plot with the disaffected headman, Namakusuru, to kill his chief, Mpangwé, in order that Namakusuru might seize upon the chieftainship; and for the murder of Mpangwé the trader agreed to receive ten large tusks of ivory.  Sequasha, with a picked party of armed slaves, went to visit Mpangwé who received him kindly, and treated him with all the honour and hospitality usually shown to distinguished strangers, and the women busied themselves in cooking the best of their provisions for the repast to be set before him.  Of this, and also of the beer, the half-caste partook heartily.  Mpangwé was then asked by Sequasha to allow his men to fire their guns in amusement.  Innocent of any suspicion of treachery, and anxious to hear the report of firearms, Mpangwé at once gave his consent; and the slaves rose and poured a murderous volley into the merry group of unsuspecting spectators, instantly killing the chief and twenty of his people.  The survivors fled in horror.  The children and young women were seized as slaves, and the village sacked.  Sequasha sent the message to Namakusuru: “I have killed the lion that troubled you; come and let us talk over the matter.”  He came and brought the ivory.  “No,” said the half-caste, “let us divide the land:” and he took the larger share for himself, and compelled the would-be usurper to deliver up his bracelets, in token of subjection on becoming the child or vassal of Sequasha.  These were sent in triumph to the authorities at Tette.  The governor of Quillimane had told us that he had received orders from Lisbon to take advantage of our passing to re-establish Zumbo; and accordingly these traders had built a small stockade on the rich plain of the right bank of Loangwa, a mile above the site of the ancient mission church of Zumbo, as part of the royal policy.  The bloodshed was quite unnecessary, because, the land at Zumbo having of old been purchased, the natives would have always of their own accord acknowledged the right thus acquired; they pointed it out to Dr. Livingstone in 1856 that, though they were cultivating it, is was not theirs, but white man’s land.  Sequasha and his mate had left their ivory in charge of some of their slaves, who, in the absence of their masters, were now having a gay time of it, and getting drunk every day with the produce of the sacked villages.  The head slave came and begged for the musket of the delinquent ferryman, which was returned.  He thought his master did perfectly right to kill Mpangwé, when asked to do it for the fee of ten tusks, and he even justified it thus: “If a man invites you to eat, will you not partake?”

We continued our journey on the 28th of June.  Game was extremely abundant, and there were many lions.  Mbia drove one off from his feast on a wild pig, and appropriated what remained of the pork to his own use.  Lions are particularly fond of the flesh of wild pigs and zebras, and contrive to kill a large number of these animals.  In the afternoon we arrived at the village of the female chief, Ma-mburuma, but she herself was now living on the opposite side of the river.  Some of her people called, and said she had been frightened by seeing her son and other children killed by Sequasha, and had fled to the other bank; but when her heart was healed, she would return and live in her own village, and among her own people.  She constantly inquired of the black traders, who came up the river, if they had any news of the white man who passed with the oxen.  “He has gone down into the sea,” was their reply, “but we belong to the same people.”  “Oh no; you need not tell me that; he takes no slaves, but wishes peace: you are not of his tribe.”  This antislavery character excites such universal attention, that any missionary who winked at the gigantic evils involved in the slave-trade would certainly fail to produce any good impression on the native mind.

CHAPTER VI

Illness—The Honey-guide—Abundance of game—The Baenda pezi—The Batoka.

We left the river here, and proceeded up the valley which leads to the Mburuma or Mohango pass.  The nights were cold, and on the 30th of June the thermometer was as low as 39 degrees at sunrise.  We passed through a village of twenty large huts, which Sequasha had attacked on his return from the murder of the chief, Mpangwé.  He caught the women and children for slaves, and carried off all the food, except a huge basket of bran, which the natives are wont to save against a time of famine.  His slaves had broken all the water-pots and the millstones for grinding meal.

The buazé-trees and bamboos are now seen on the hills; but the jujube or zisyphus, which has evidently been introduced from India, extends no further up the river.  We had been eating this fruit, which, having somewhat the taste of apples, the Portuguese call Maçããs, all the way from Tette; and here they were larger than usual, though immediately beyond they ceased to be found.  No mango-tree either is to be met with beyond this point, because the Portuguese traders never established themselves anywhere beyond Zumbo.  Tsetse flies are more numerous and troublesome than we have ever before found them.  They accompany us on the march, often buzzing round our heads like a swarm of bees.  They are very cunning, and when intending to bite, alight so gently that their presence is not perceived till they thrust in their lance-like proboscis.  The bite is acute, but the pain is over in a moment; it is followed by a little of the disagreeable itching of the mosquito’s bite.  This fly invariably kills all domestic animals except goats and donkeys; man and the wild animals escape.  We ourselves were severely bitten on this pass, and so were our donkeys, but neither suffered from any after effects.

Water is scarce in the Mburuma pass, except during the rainy season.  We however halted beside some fine springs in the bed of the now dry rivulet, Podébodé, which is continued down to the end of the pass, and yields water at intervals in pools.  Here we remained a couple of days in consequence of the severe illness of Dr. Kirk.  He had several times been attacked by fever; and observed that when we were on the cool heights he was comfortable, but when we happened to descend from a high to a lower altitude, he felt chilly, though the temperature in the latter case was 25 degrees higher than it was above; he had been trying different medicines of reputed efficacy with a view to ascertain whether other combinations might not be superior to the preparation we generally used; in halting by this water he suddenly became blind, and unable to stand from faintness.  The men, with great alacrity, prepared a grassy bed, on which we laid our companion, with the sad forebodings which only those who have tended the sick in a wild country can realize.  We feared that in experimenting he had over-drugged himself; but we gave him a dose of our fever pills; on the third day he rode the one of the two donkeys that would allow itself to be mounted, and on the sixth he marched as well as any of us.  This case is mentioned in order to illustrate what we have often observed, that moving the patient from place to place is most conducive to the cure; and the more pluck a man has—the less he gives in to the disease—the less likely he is to die.

Supplied with water by the pools in the Podébodé, we again joined the Zambesi at the confluence of the rivulet.  When passing through a dry district the native hunter knows where to expect water by the animals he sees.  The presence of the gemsbuck, duìker or diver, springbucks, or elephants, is no proof that water is near; for these animals roam over vast tracts of country, and may be met scores of miles from it.  Not so, however, the zebra, pallah, buffalo, and rhinoceros; their spoor gives assurance that water is not far off, as they never stray any distance from its neighbourhood.  But when amidst the solemn stillness of the woods, the singing of joyous birds falls upon the ear, it is certain that water is close at hand.

Our men in hunting came on an immense herd of buffaloes, quietly resting in the long dry grass, and began to blaze away furiously at the astonished animals.  In the wild excitement of the hunt, which heretofore had been conducted with spears, some forgot to load with ball, and, firing away vigorously with powder only, wondered for the moment that the buffaloes did not fall.  The slayer of the young elephant, having buried his four bullets in as many buffaloes, fired three charges of No. 1 shot he had for killing guinea-fowl.  The quaint remarks and merriment after these little adventures seemed to the listener like the pleasant prattle of children.  Mbia and Mantlanyané, however, killed one buffalo each; both the beasts were in prime condition; the meat was like really excellent beef, with a smack of venison.  A troop of hungry, howling hyenas also thought the savour tempting, as they hung round the camp at night, anxious to partake of the feast.  They are, fortunately, arrant cowards, and never attack either men or beasts except they can catch them asleep, sick, or at some other disadvantage.  With a bright fire at our feet their presence excites no uneasiness.  A piece of meat hung on a tree, high enough to make him jump to reach it, and a short spear, with its handle firmly planted in the ground beneath, are used as a device to induce the hyena to commit suicide by impalement.

The honey-guide is an extraordinary bird; how is it that every member of its family has learned that all men, white or black, are fond of honey?  The instant the little fellow gets a glimpse of a man, he hastens to greet him with the hearty invitation to come, as Mbia translated it, to a bees’ hive, and take some honey.  He flies on in the proper direction, perches on a tree, and looks back to see if you are following; then on to another and another, until he guides you to the spot.  If you do not accept his first invitation he follows you with pressing importunities, quite as anxious to lure the stranger to the bees’ hive as other birds are to draw him away from their own nest.  Except while on the march, our men were sure to accept the invitation, and manifested the same by a peculiar responsive whistle, meaning, as they said, “All right, go ahead; we are coming.”  The bird never deceived them, but always guided them to a hive of bees, though some had but little honey in store.  Has this peculiar habit of the honey-guide its origin, as the attachment of dogs, in friendship for man, or in love for the sweet pickings of the plunder left on the ground?  Self-interest aiding in preservation from danger seems to be the rule in most cases, as, for instance, in the bird that guards the buffalo and rhinoceros.  The grass is often so tall and dense that one could go close up to these animals quite unperceived; but the guardian bird, sitting on the beast, sees the approach of danger, flaps its wings and screams, which causes its bulky charge to rush off from a foe he has neither seen nor heard; for his reward the vigilant little watcher has the pick of the parasites on his fat friend.  In other cases a chance of escape must be given even by the animal itself to its prey; as in the rattle-snake, which, when excited to strike, cannot avoid using his rattle, any more than the cat can resist curling its tail when excited in the chase of a mouse, or the cobra can refrain from inflating the loose skin of the neck and extending it laterally, before striking its poison fangs into its victim.  There are many snakes in parts of this pass; they basked in the warm sunshine, but rustled off through the leaves as we approached.  We observed one morning a small one of a deadly poisonous species, named Kakoné, on a bush by the wayside, quietly resting in a horizontal position, digesting a lizard for breakfast.  Though openly in view, its colours and curves so closely resembled a small branch that some failed to see it, even after being asked if they perceived anything on the bush.  Here also one of our number had a glance at another species, rarely seen, and whose swift lightning-like motion has given rise to the native proverb, that when a man sees this snake he will forthwith become a rich man.

We slept near the ruined village of the murdered chief, Mpangwé, a lovely spot, with the Zambesi in front, and extensive gardens behind, backed by a semicircle of hills receding up to lofty mountains.  Our path kept these mountains on our right, and crossed several streamlets, which seemed to be perennial, and among others the Selolé, which apparently flows past the prominent peak Chiarapela.  These rivulets have often human dwellings on their banks; but the land can scarcely be said to be occupied.  The number of all sorts of game increases wonderfully every day.  As a specimen of what may be met with where there are no human habitations, and where no firearms have been introduced, we may mention what at times has actually been seen by us.  On the morning of July 3rd a herd of elephants passed within fifty yards of our sleeping-place, going down to the river along the dry bed of a rivulet.  Starting a few minutes before the main body, we come upon large flocks of guinea-fowl, shoot what may be wanted for dinner, or next morning’s breakfast, and leave them in the path to be picked up by the cook and his mates behind.  As we proceed, francolins of three varieties run across the path, and hundreds of turtle-doves rise, with great blatter of wing, and fly off to the trees.  Guinea-fowls, francolins, turtle-doves, ducks, and geese are the game birds of this region.  At sunrise a herd of pallahs, standing like a flock of sheep, allow the first man of our long Indian file to approach within about fifty yards; but having meat, we let them trot off leisurely and unmolested.  Soon afterwards we come upon a herd of waterbucks, which here are very much darker in colour, and drier in flesh, than the same species near the sea.  They look at us and we at them; and we pass on to see a herd of doe koodoos, with a magnificently horned buck or two, hurrying off to the dry hill-sides.  We have ceased shooting antelopes, as our men have been so often gorged with meat that they have become fat and dainty.  They say that they do not want more venison, it is so dry and tasteless, and ask why we do not give them shot to shoot the more savoury guinea-fowl.

About eight o’clock the tsetse commence to buzz about us, and bite our hands and necks sharply.  Just as we are thinking of breakfast, we meet some buffaloes grazing by the path; but they make off in a heavy gallop at the sight of man.  We fire, and the foremost, badly wounded, separates from the herd, and is seen to stop amongst the trees; but, as it is a matter of great danger to follow a wounded buffalo, we hold on our way.  It is this losing of wounded animals which makes firearms so annihilating to these beasts of the field, and will in time sweep them all away.  The small Enfield bullet is worse than the old round one for this.  It often goes through an animal without killing him, and he afterwards perishes, when he is of no value to man.  After breakfast we draw near a pond of water; a couple of elephants stand on its bank, and, at a respectful distance behind these monarchs of the wilderness, is seen a herd of zebras, and another of waterbucks.  On getting our wind the royal beasts make off at once; but the zebras remain till the foremost man is within eighty yards of them, when old and young canter gracefully away.  The zebra has a great deal of curiosity; and this is often fatal to him, for he has the habit of stopping to look at the hunter.  In this particular he is the exact opposite of the diver antelope, which rushes off like the wind, and never for a moment stops to look behind, after having once seen or smelt danger.  The finest zebra of the herd is sometimes shot, our men having taken a sudden fancy to the flesh, which all declare to be the “king of good meat.”  On the plains of short grass between us and the river many antelopes of different species are calmly grazing, or reposing.  Wild pigs are common, and walk abroad during the day; but are so shy as seldom to allow a close approach.  On taking alarm they erect their slender tails in the air, and trot off swiftly in a straight line, keeping their bodies as steady as a locomotive on a railroad.  A mile beyond the pool three cow buffaloes with their calves come from the woods, and move out into the plain.  A troop of monkeys, on the edge of the forest, scamper back to its depths on hearing the loud song of Singeleka, and old surly fellows, catching sight of the human party, insult it with a loud and angry bark.  Early in the afternoon we may see buffaloes again, or other animals.  We camp on the dry higher ground, after, as has happened, driving off a solitary elephant.  The nights are warmer now, and possess nearly as much of interest and novelty as the days.  A new world awakes and comes forth, more numerous, if we may judge by the noise it makes, than that which is abroad by sunlight.  Lions and hyenas roar around us, and sometimes come disagreeably near, though they have never ventured into our midst.  Strange birds sing their agreeable songs, while others scream and call harshly as if in fear or anger.  Marvellous insect-sounds fall upon the ear; one, said by natives to proceed from a large beetle, resembles a succession of measured musical blows upon an anvil, while many others are perfectly indescribable.  A little lemur was once seen to leap about from branch to branch with the agility of a frog; it chirruped like a bird, and is not larger than a robin red-breast.  Reptiles, though numerous, seldom troubled us; only two men suffered from stings, and that very slightly, during the entire journey, the one supposed that he was bitten by a snake, and the other was stung by a scorpion.

Grass-burning has begun, and is producing the blue hazy atmosphere of the American Indian summer, which in Western Africa is called the “smokes.”  Miles of fire burn on the mountain-sides in the evenings, but go out during the night.  From their height they resemble a broad zigzag line of fire in the heavens.

We slept on the night of the 6th of July on the left bank of the Chongwé, which comes through a gap in the hills on our right, and is twenty yards wide.  A small tribe of the Bazizulu, from the south, under Dadanga, have recently settled here and built a village.  Some of their houses are square, and they seem to be on friendly terms with the Bakoa, who own the country.  They, like the other natives, cultivate cotton, but of a different species from any we have yet seen in Africa, the staple being very long, and the boll larger than what is usually met with; the seeds cohere as in the Pernambuco kind.  They brought the seed with them from their own country, the distant mountains of which in the south, still inhabited by their fellow-countrymen, who possess much cattle and use shields, can be seen from this high ground.  These people profess to be children of the great paramount chief, Kwanyakarombé, who is said to be lord of all the Bazizulu.  The name of this tribe is known to geographers, who derive their information from the Portuguese, as the Morusurus, and the hills mentioned above are said to have been the country of Changamira, the warrior-chief of history, whom no Portuguese ever dared to approach.  The Bazizulu seem, by report, to be brave mountaineers; nearer the river, the Sidima inhabit the plains; just as on the north side, the Babimpé live on the heights, about two days off, and the Makoa on or near the river.  The chief of the Bazizulu we were now with was hospitable and friendly.  A herd of buffaloes came trampling through the gardens and roused up our men; a feat that roaring lions seldom achieved.