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

We have only been at the Lake at one season of the year: then the wind blows strongly from the east, and indeed this is its prevailing direction hence to the Orange River; a north or a south wind is rare, and seldom lasts more than three days.  As the breeze now blew over a large body of water, towards us, it was delightful; but when facing it on the table-land it was so strong as materially to impede our progress, and added considerably to the labour of travelling.  Here it brought large quantities of the plant (Vallisneriæ), from which the natives extract salt by burning, and which, if chewed, at once shows its saline properties by the taste.  Clouds of the kungo, or edible midges, floated on the Lake, and many rested on the bushes on land.

The reeds along the shores of the Lake were still crowded with fugitives, and a great loss of life must since have taken place; for, after the corn they had brought with them was expended, famine would ensue.  Even now we passed many women and children digging up the roots, about the size of peas, of an aromatic grass; and their wasted forms showed that this poor hard fare was to allay, if possible, the pangs of hunger.  The babies at the breast crowed to us as we passed, their mothers kneeling and grubbing for the roots; the poor little things still drawing nourishment from the natural fountain were unconscious of that sinking of heart which their parents must have felt in knowing that the supply for the little ones must soon fail.  No one would sell a bit of food to us: fishermen, even, would not part with the produce of their nets, except in exchange for some other kind of food.  Numbers of newly-made graves showed that many had already perished, and hundreds were so emaciated that they had the appearance of human skeletons swathed in brown and wrinkled leather.  In passing mile after mile, marked with these sad proofs that “man’s inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn,” one experiences an overpowering sense of helplessness to alleviate human woe, and breathes a silent prayer to the Almighty to hasten the good time coming when “man and man the world o’er, shall brothers be for all that.”  One small redeeming consideration in all this misery could not but be felt; these ills were inflicted by heathen Mazitu, and not by, or for, those who say to Him who is higher than the highest, “We believe that thou shalt come to be our Judge.”

We crossed the Mokolé, rested at Chitanda, and then left the Lake, and struck away N.W. to Chinsamba’s.  Our companions, who were so much oppressed by the rarefied air of the plateau, still showed signs of exhaustion, though now only 1300 feet above the sea, and did not recover flesh and spirits till we again entered the Lower Shiré Valley, which is of so small an altitude, that, without simultaneous observations with the barometer there and on the sea-coast, the difference would not be appreciable.

On a large plain on which we spent one night, we had the company of eighty tobacco traders on their way from Kasungu to Chinsamba’s.  The Mazitu had attacked and killed two of them, near the spot where the Zulus fled from us without answering our questions.  The traders were now so frightened that, instead of making a straight course with us, they set off by night to follow the shores of the Lake to Tsenga, and then turn west.  It is the sight of shields, or guns that inspires terror.  The bowmen feel perfectly helpless when the enemy comes with even the small protection the skin shield affords, or attacks them in the open field with guns.  They may shoot a few arrows, but they are such poor shots that ten to one if they hit.  The only thing that makes the arrow formidable is the poison; for if the poisoned barb goes in nothing can save the wounded.  A bow is in use in the lower end of Lake Nyassa, but is more common in the Maravi country, from six to eight inches broad, which is intended to be used as a shield as well as a bow; but we never saw one with the mark on it of an enemy’s arrow.  It certainly is no match for the Zulu shield, which is between four and five feet long, of an oval shape, and about two feet broad.  So great is the terror this shield inspires that we sometimes doubted whether the Mazitu here were Zulus at all, and suspected that the people of the country took advantage of that fear, and, assuming shields, pretended to belong to that nation.

On the 11th October we arrived at the stockade of Chinsamba in Mosapo, and had reason to be very well satisfied with his kindness.  A paraffin candle was in his eyes the height of luxury, and the ability to make a light instantaneously by a lucifer match, a marvel that struck him with wonder.  He brought all his relatives in different groups to see the strange sights,—instantaneous fire-making, and a light, without the annoyance of having fire and smoke in the middle of the floor.  When they wish to look for anything in the dark, a wisp of dried grass is lighted.

Chinsamba gave us a great deal of his company during our visits.  As we have often remarked in other cases, a chief has a great deal to attend to in guiding the affairs of his people.  He is consulted on all occasions, and gives his advice in a stream of words, which show a very intimate acquaintance with the topography of his district; he knows every rood cultivated, every weir put in the river, every hunting-net, loom, gorge, and every child of his tribe.  Any addition made to the number of these latter is notified to him; and he sends thanks and compliments to the parents.

The presents which, following the custom of the country, we gave to every headman, where we either spent a night or a longer period, varied from four to eight yards of calico.  We had some Manchester cloths made in imitation of the native manufactured robes of the West Coast, each worth five or six shillings.  To the more important of the chiefs, for calico we substituted one of these strong gaudy dresses, iron spoons, a knife, needles, a tin dish, or pannikin, and found these presents to be valued more than three times their value in cloth would have been.  Eight or ten shillings’ worth gave abundant satisfaction to the greediest; but this is to be understood as the prime cost of the articles, and a trader would sometimes have estimated similar generosity as equal to from £30 to £50.  In some cases the presents we gave exceeded the value of what was received in return; in others the excess of generosity was on the native side.

We never asked for leave to pass through the country; we simply told where we were going, and asked for guides; if they were refused, or if they demanded payment beforehand, we requested to be put into the beginning of the path, and said that we were sorry we could not agree about the guides, and usually they and we started together.  Greater care would be required on entering the Mazitu or Zulu country, for there the Government extends over very large districts, while among the Manganja each little district is independent of every other.  The people here have not adopted the exacting system of the Banyai, or of the people whose country was traversed by Speke and Grant.

In our way back from Chinsamba’s to Chembi’s and from his village to Nkwinda’s, and thence to Katosa’s, we only saw the people working in their gardens, near to the stockades.  These strongholds were strengthened with branches of acacias, covered with strong hooked thorns; and were all crowded with people.  The air was now clearer than when we went north, and we could see the hills of Kirk’s Range five or six miles to the west of our path.  The sun struck very hot, and the men felt it most in their feet.  Every one who could get a bit of goatskin made it into a pair of sandals.

While sitting at Nkwinda’s, a man behind the court hedge-wall said, with great apparent glee, that an Arab slaving party on the other side of the confluence of the Shiré and Lake were “giving readily two fathoms of calico for a boy, and two and a half for a girl; never saw trade so brisk, no haggling at all.”  This party was purchasing for the supply of the ocean slave-trade.  One of the evils of this traffic is that it profits by every calamity that happens in a country.  The slave-trader naturally reaps advantage from every disorder, and though in the present case some lives may have been saved that otherwise would have perished, as a rule he intensifies hatreds, and aggravates wars between the tribes, because the more they fight and vanquish each other the richer his harvest becomes.  Where slaving and cattle are unknown the people live in peace.  As we sat leaning against that hedge, and listened to the harangue of the slave-trader’s agent, it glanced across our mind that this was a terrible world; the best in it unable, from conscious imperfections, to say to the worst “Stand by! for I am holier than thou.”  The slave-trader, imbued no doubt with certain kindly feelings, yet pursuing a calling which makes him a fair specimen of a human fiend, stands grouped with those by whom the slave-traders are employed, and with all the workers of sin and misery in more highly-favoured lands, an awful picture to the All-seing Eye.

We arrived at Katosa’s village on the 15th October, and found about thirty young men and boys in slave-sticks.  They had been bought by other agents of the Arab slavers, still on the east side of the Shiré.  They were resting in the village, and their owners soon removed them.  The weight of the goree seemed very annoying when they tried to sleep.  This taming instrument is kept on, until the party has crossed several rivers and all hope of escape has vanished from the captive’s mind.

On explaining to Katosa the injury he was doing in selling his people as slaves, he assured us that those whom we had seen belonged to the Arabs, and added that he had far too few people already.  He said he had been living in peace at the lakelet Pamalombé; that the Ajawa, or Machinga, under Kaiñka and Karamba, and a body of Babisa, under Maonga, had induced him to ferry them over the Shiré; that they had lived for a considerable time at his expense, and at last stole his sheep, which induced him to make his escape to the place where he now dwelt, and in this flight he had lost many of his people.  His account of the usual conduct of the Ajawa quite agrees with what these people have narrated themselves, and gives but a low idea of their moral tone.  They have repeatedly broken all the laws of hospitality by living for months on the bounty of the Manganja, and then, by a sudden uprising, overcoming their hosts, and killing or chasing them out of their inheritances.  The secret of their success is the possession of firearms.  There were several of these Ajawa here again, and on our arrival they proposed to Katosa that they should leave; but he replied that they need not be afraid of us.  They had red beads strung so thickly on their hair that at a little distance they appeared to have on red caps.  It is curious that the taste for red hair should be so general among the Africans here and further north; in the south black mica, called Sebilo, and even soot are used to deepen the colour of the hair; here many smear the head with red-ochre, others plait the inner bark of a tree stained red into it; and a red powder called Mukuru is employed, which some say is obtained from the ground, and others from the roots of a tree.

It having been doubted whether sugar-cane is indigenous to this country or not, we employed Katosa to procure the two varieties commonly cultivated, with the intention of conveying them to Johanna.  One is yellow, and the other, like what we observed in the Barotsé Valley, is variegated with dark red and yellow patches, or all red.  We have seen it “arrow,” or blossom.  Bamboos also run to seed, and the people are said to use the seed as food.  The sugar-cane has native names, which would lead us to believe it to be indigenous.  Here it is called Zimbi, further south Mesari, and in the centre of the country Meshuati.  Anything introduced in recent times, as maize, superior cotton, or cassava, has a name implying its foreign origin.

Katosa’s village was embowered among gigantic trees of fine timber: several caffiaceous bushes, with berries closely resembling those of the common coffee, grew near, but no use had ever been made of them.  There are several cinchonaceous trees also in the country; and some of the wild fruits are so good as to cause a feeling of regret that they have not been improved by cultivation, or whatever else brought ours to their present perfection.  Katosa lamented that this locality was so inferior to his former place at Pamalombé; there he had maize at the different stages of growth throughout the year.  To us, however, he seemed, by digging holes, and taking advantage of the moisture beneath, to have succeeded pretty well in raising crops at this the driest time.  The Makololo remarked that “here the maize had no season,”—meaning that the whole year was proper for its growth and ripening.  By irrigation a succession of crops of grain might be raised anywhere within the south intertropical region of Africa.

When we were with Motunda, on the 20th October, he told us frankly that all the native provisions were hidden in Kirk’s Range, and his village being the last place where a supply of grain could be purchased before we reached the ship, we waited till he had sent to his hidden stores.  The upland country, beyond the mountains now on our right, is called Deza, and is inhabited by Maravi, who are only another tribe of Manganja.  The paramount chief is called Kabambé, and he, having never been visited by war, lives in peace and plenty.  Goats and sheep thrive; and Nyango, the chieftainess further to the south, has herds of horned cattle.  The country being elevated is said to be cold, and there are large grassy plains on it which are destitute of trees.  The Maravi are reported to be brave, and good marksmen with the bow; but, throughout all the country we have traversed, guns are enabling the trading tribes to overcome the agricultural and manufacturing classes.

On the ascent at the end of the valley just opposite Mount Mvai, we looked back for a moment to impress the beauties of the grand vale on our memory.  The heat of the sun was now excessive, and Masiko, thinking that it was overpowering, proposed to send forward to the ship and get a hammock, in which to carry any one who might knock up.  He was truly kind and considerate.  Dr. Livingstone having fallen asleep after a fatiguing march, a hole in the roof of the hut he was in allowed the sun to beat on his head, and caused a splitting headache and deafness: while he was nearly insensible, he felt Masiko repeatedly lift him back to the bed off which he had rolled, and cover him up.

On the 24th we were again in Banda, at the village of Chasundu, and could now see clearly the hot valley in which the Shiré flows, and the mountains of the Manganja beyond to our south-east.  Instead of following the road by which we had come, we resolved to go south along the Lesungwé, which rises at Zunjé, a peak on the same ridge as Mvai, and a part of Kirk’s Range, which bounds the country of the Maravi on our west.  This is about the limit of the beat of the Portuguese native traders, and it is but recently that, following our footsteps, they have come so far.  It is not likely that their enterprise will lead them further north, for Chasundu informed us that the Babisa under-sell the agents from Tette.  He had tried to deal with the latter when they first came; but they offered only ten fathoms of calico for a tusk, for which the Babisa gave him twenty fathoms and a little powder.  Ivory was brought to us for sale again and again, and, as far as we could judge, the price expected would be about one yard of calico per pound, or possibly more, for there is no scale of prices known.  The rule seems to be that buyer and seller shall spend a good deal of time in trying to cheat each other before coming to any conclusion over a bargain.

We found the Lesungwé a fine stream near its source, and about forty feet wide and knee-deep, when joined by the Lekudzi, which comes down from the Maravi country.

Guinea-fowl abounded, but no grain could be purchased, for the people had cultivated only the holmes along the banks with maize and pumpkins.  Time enough had not elapsed since the slave-trader’s invasion, and destruction of their stores, for them to raise crops of grain on the adjacent lands.  To deal with them for a few heads of maize was the hungry bargaining with the famished, so we hastened on southwards as fast as the excessive heat would allow us.  It was impossible to march in the middle of the day, the heat was so intolerable; and we could not go on at night, because, if we had chanced to meet any of the inhabitants, we should have been taken for marauders.

We had now thunder every afternoon; but while occasional showers seemed to fall at different parts, none fell on us.  The air was deliciously clear, and revealed all the landscape covered everywhere with forest, and bounded by beautiful mountains.  On the 31st October we reached the Mukuru-Madsé, after having travelled 660 geographical miles, or 760 English miles in a straight line.  This was accomplished in fifty-five travelling days, twelve miles per diem on an average.  If the numerous bendings and windings, and ups and downs of the paths could have been measured too, the distance would have been found at least fifteen miles a day.

The night we slept at the Mukuru-Madsé it thundered heavily, but, as this had been the case every afternoon, and no rain had followed, we erected no shelter, but during this night a pouring rain came on.  When very tired a man feels determined to sleep in spite of everything, and the sound of dropping water is said to be conducive to slumber, but that does not refer to an African storm.  If, when half asleep in spite of a heavy shower on the back of the head, he unconsciously turns on his side, the drops from the branches make such capital shots into his ear, that the brain rings again.

We were off next morning, the 1st of November, as soon as the day dawned.  In walking about seven miles to the ship, our clothes were thoroughly dried by the hot sun, and an attack of fever followed.  We relate this little incident to point out the almost certain consequence of getting wet in this climate, and allowing the clothes to dry on the person.  Even if we walk in the mornings when the dew is on the grass, and only get our feet and legs wet, a very uneasy feeling and partial fever with pains in the limbs ensue, and continue till the march onwards bathes them in perspiration.  Had Bishop Mackenzie been aware of this, which, before experience alone had taught us, entailed many a severe lesson, we know no earthly reason why his valuable life might not have been spared.  The difference between getting the clothes soaked in England and in Africa is this: in the cold climate the patient is compelled, or, at any rate, warned, by discomfort to resort at once to a change of raiment; while in Africa it is cooling and rather pleasant to allow the clothes to dry on the person.  A Missionary in proportion as he possesses an athletic frame, hardened by manly exercises, in addition to his other qualifications, will excel him who is not favoured with such bodily endowments; but in a hot climate efficiency mainly depends on husbanding the resources.  He must never forget that, in the tropics, he is an exotic plant.

CHAPTER XV

Confidence of natives—Bishop Tozer—Withdrawal of the Mission party—The English leave—Hazardous voyage to Mosambique—Dr. Livingstone’s voyage to Bombay—Return to England.

We were delighted and thankful to find all those left at the ship in good health, and that from the employments in which they had been occupied they had suffered less from fever than usual during our absence.  My companion, Thomas Ward, the steward, after having performed his part in the march right bravely, rejoined his comrades stronger than he had ever been before.

An Ajawa chief, named Kapeni, had so much confidence in the English name that he, with most of his people, visited the ship; and asserted that nothing would give his countrymen greater pleasure than to receive the associates of Bishop Mackenzie as their teachers.  This declaration, coupled with the subsequent conduct of the Ajawa, was very gratifying, inasmuch as it was clear that no umbrage had been taken at the check which the Bishop had given to their slaving; their consciences had told them that the course he had pursued was right.

When we returned, the contrast between the vegetation about Muazi’s and that near the ship was very striking.  We had come so quickly down, that while on the plateau in latitude 12 degrees S., the young leaves had in many cases passed from the pink or other colour they have on first coming out to the light fresh green which succeeds it, here, on the borders of 16 degrees S., or from 150 to 180 miles distant, the trees were still bare, the grey colour of the bark predominating over every other hue.  The trees in the tropics here have a very well-marked annual rest.  On the Rovuma even, which is only about ten degrees from the equator, in September the slopes up from the river some sixty miles inland were of a light ashy-grey colour; and on ascending them, we found that the majority of the trees were without leaves; those of the bamboo even lay crisp and crumpled on the ground.  As the sun is usually hot by day, even in the winter, this withering process may be owing to the cool nights; Africa differing so much from Central India in the fact that, in Africa, however hot the day may be, the air generally cools down sufficiently by the early morning watches to render a covering or even a blanket agreeable.

The first fortnight after our return to the ship was employed in the delightful process of resting, to appreciate which a man must have gone through great exertions.  In our case the muscles of the limbs were as hard as boards, and not an ounce of fat existed on any part of the body.  We now had frequent showers; but, these being only the earlier rains, the result on the rise of the river was but a few inches.  The effect of these rains on the surrounding scenery was beautiful in the extreme.  All trace of the dry season was soon obliterated, and hills and mountains from base to summit were covered with a mantle of living green.  The sun passed us on his way south without causing a flood, so all our hopes of a release were centred on his return towards the Equator, when, as a rule, the waters of inundation are made to flow.  Up to this time the rains descended simply to water the earth, fill the pools, and make ready for the grand overflow for which we had still to wait six weeks.  It is of no use to conceal that we waited with much chagrin; for had we not been forced to return from the highlands west of Nyassa we might have visited Lake Bemba; but unavailing regrets are poor employment for the mind; so we banished them to the best of our power.

About the middle of December, 1863, we were informed that Bishop Mackenzie’s successor, after spending a few months on the top of a mountain about as high as Ben Nevis in Scotland, at the mouth of the Shiré, where there were few or no people to be taught, had determined to leave the country.  This unfortunate decision was communicated to us at the same time that six of the boys reared by Bishop Mackenzie were sent back into heathenism.  The boys were taken to a place about seven miles from the ship, but immediately found their way up to us.  We told them that if they wished to remain in the country they had better so arrange at once, for we were soon to leave.  The sequel will show their choice.

As soon as the death of Bishop Mackenzie was known at the Cape, Dr. Gray, the excellent Bishop there, proceeded at once to England, with a view of securing an early appointment of another head to the Mission, which in its origin owed so much to his zeal for the spread of the gospel among the heathen, and whose interests he had continually at heart.  About the middle of 1862 we heard that Dr. Gray’s efforts had been successful, and that another clergyman would soon take the place of our departed friend.  This pleasing intelligence was exceedingly cheering to the Missionaries, and gratifying also to the members of the Expedition.  About the beginning of 1863 the new Bishop arrived at the mouth of the river in a man-of-war, and after some delay proceeded inland.  The Bishop of the Cape had taken a voyage home at considerable inconvenience to himself, for the sole object of promoting this Mission to the heathen; and it was somehow expected that the man he would secure would be an image of himself; and we must say, that whatever others, from the representations that have gone abroad, may think of his character, we invariably found Dr. Gray to be a true, warm-hearted promoter of the welfare of his fellow-men; a man whose courage and zeal have provoked very many to good works.