In our peregrinations around the Usagara hills, seeking to get into close touch with the people and deliver to them the Message of the Gospel, we came across a very interesting colony of natives, called Wakamba. This small collection of people had come from further north during a time of famine, and having got completely separated from the main body of their tribe, their return was impeded by the fierce nomadic Wahumba—a section of the Masai clan. Having been thus cut off, they settled down in the midst of the Wasagara tribe, from whom they differed exceedingly in skill, manners and body type, but with whom, nevertheless, they lived on the most friendly terms—a condition of things which speaks volumes for the hospitality and peaceful nature of the Wasagara.
The latter were timid and reserved, while the Wakamba were of a bold and manly attitude, and very expert with the bow and arrow. The greater part of their time seemed to be given to the chase. Among these people, we had not much difficulty in getting together a fair number in the forest, to hear something of the glad tidings we had brought to them. On returning, one day, to our station from one of these unplanned meetings in the jungle, we were glad to hear that a Missionary caravan had just come in from the Unyamwezi country. To meet with one who was bearing the burden and heat of the day in another part of the field of Missionary labor was a great break in the monotonous round of our daily life, and as refreshing to our hearts as the oasis is to the weary Egyptian in his journey across the Sahara.
It was with much joy, therefore, that we welcomed the arrival of Mr. Blackburne, who had been working among the Wasukuma, at the south end of Lake Victoria Nyanza. When he reached our station, he presented the appearance of a man who had got hold of Joseph's coat of many colors. In those early days in Central Africa, it was not possible to travel with a very large wardrobe; and, owing to the wear and tear of the rough life in marching through the jungle, one's clothing became worn out very soon. Everyone had to turn tailor and shoemaker occasionally, and the result was not always very artistic. It was not an unusual thing to see a Missionary with a dark colored jacket and pants, patched with pieces of calico or some other material of various colors.
Mr. Blackburne was longing to get home, and only stayed with us one night, and then passed on his way to the Coast. On his return to Africa after furlough, he traveled up country with the newly-appointed Bishop Parker (Hannington's successor). They had only arrived at the south end of the Lake, when Blackburne was prostrated with severe fever, and, without much premonitory sign of death, he suddenly fell asleep in Jesus. Bishop Parker dispatched some runners to the Coast, with a cable message for London, intimating that his companion in labor had passed away.
Immediately afterward, the Bishop himself took seriously ill with fever, and, so rapid was the way of the disease, that in forty-eight hours he, too, had succumbed to this cruel plague of tropical Africa. The messenger bearing the news of his death soon overtook the other runners, and so the sad and tragic news, of the almost simultaneous deaths of these two comparatively young workers in Africa, reached the homeland at the same moment. The frequent deaths of the workers in Central Africa in those days made us feel how soon our opportunities might end, and how necessary to be diligent in spreading the Gospel message, which we had come to the land to proclaim. From our station on the hilltop, we could scan for fifteen to twenty miles the undulating, wooded valleys below, over which were scattered numerous villages—fields white unto harvest. Oftentimes, when we left the hill station and made our way down below to see a few people, and then climbed up again exhausted in the evening, we could not help feeling that the principal part of our time and energy was spent on the journey up and down.
It was suggested that we should build a sub-station in the valley, in the midst of the people, and with glowing hearts we entered into this work. Having made several itinerancies in the district, we eventually chose a very desirable position in a slight elevation in the forest, from which large numbers of people could gladly be reached. Pitching our tents on the selected site, a number of natives were sent out to cut down some trees and bamboo poles for building purposes, and others to cut grass for thatching the roof. The work of erection had commenced and was progressing splendidly, when all was brought to a standstill by my husband being cut down by an severe attack of malaria.
Day after day the fever became higher and his exhaustion more apparent, as he lay tossing about in agony at the very point of death. Night after night I sat by his bedside in our tent, while the leopards were growling around our canvas walls, and the lions roaring in the surrounding forest. My husband became so racked with pain, and wild with the delirium which the fever had produced, that he threw himself, at times, out of his camp bed and would persist in lying on the floor; and the floor of our tent was the rough, bare, mother earth. For several days I had neither rest nor sleep. God alone knows the terrible anxiety I suffered during those long, dark nights, or can measure their unutterable loneliness.
Seeing that there was no sign of any change for the better, I determined to have him carried back to the Mamboia station, and sent messengers fifty miles away for Dr. Baxter of Mpwapwa to come and see him. To a large bamboo pole I had my husband's hammock fixed, and in this he was laid. For his taking away, six strong porters were appointed, who raised the pole upon their shoulders and bore him away through the forest, towards the old station. No sooner had I got to Mamboia with my husband, than I myself was once again smitten with fever. When Doctor Baxter arrived he found us both exceedingly low. For many days and nights he patiently attended to us and, with his own hands, cooked some light gruel from our stock of Robinson's patent groats, and prepared a little beef tea or any other nourishment he thought we might be able to take.
Only when he was assured that we were on the way to restoration, did he propose leaving us, and then gave us a warm invitation to come, after our recovery, and build in a healthy place near to his district. We agreed to do so as soon as possible. So weak and exhausted had the fever left us, that several weeks passed by before we were able to walk. Nevertheless we had our little meetings in our sitting-room as before, and a special meeting on Sunday. When we got the use of our limbs once again, we collected together a small caravan of porters and made our way to the Mpwapwa station. We covered the fifty miles in four days, being still very feeble and unfit for long marches; and on our arrival we had a very hearty welcome from Dr. and Mrs. Baxter, who were very kind to us during our period of recovery.
While there, my husband had a setback of fever, which brought him very low once again. After partial recovery, he went out one day for a walk and, becoming faint and weak, he lay down under the shade of a tree in a helpless condition. He waited some time until he heard native footsteps near at hand, and then he called out in the Chigogo language for a little water. The only reply was the withdrawing sounds of the fast retreating natives, who fled hastily. The natives evidently thought my husband was dying and, in accordance with native ideas, did not wish to be near when the spirit would pass away. However, the faint call for water accomplished the desired purpose, for, on reaching the vicinity of the Mission station, they related their experience to a native employed on the station; and in a short time Dr. Baxter was at my husband's side with a supply of water, a hammock and bearers to carry him to the Mission House.
After my husband's recovery, the doctor asked him to take the daily meetings, for, although he had been a comparatively short time in the country, he was very good at the language; and once again, he was delighted to have the opportunity of delivering the message of pardon and eternal life. The Wagogo natives we found to be much more difficult to reach than the Wasagara, Wanguru or Waseguha tribes, further east. To the people of Mpwapwa faithful witness had been borne day by day, and the joyous reaping time is sure to have followed. God alone can regenerate the heart of man. It is our duty to be co-workers with Him, in faithfully proclaiming the Gospel and witnessing, in season and out of season, to God's mighty power to save.
After some time we visited the further station in Ugogo at Kisokwe, where Mr. Cole had been working with great fidelity for some years. Here precious fruit had already been gathered, and there was much promise of a still more plentiful harvest. Those who had been converted seemed to be faithful in witnessing before the heathen of the saving power of the Lord Jesus Christ.
While itinerating north of Mpwapwa, we came across a very interesting chief named N'gunda, who governed the district of Viangi, with whom we made friends. It seemed to us that among his people we had found a place, which would be very favorable for Missionary work. We selected a healthy site on which to build a station, in close proximity to a fast flowing perennial stream. Good water is an item of very considerable importance in Central Africa. The Missionaries at Mpwapwa had suffered very much from the want of a proper supply. The place from which it was drawn was a very long way from the station, and the water was at times so filthy that it was absolutely unfit for use.
Dr. Baxter, who at this time had to proceed to the Coast, handed over to us a few of his native workers, and we engaged some others, and very soon our new dwelling house was being reared, on a fairly high situation which had been cleared in the virgin forest. During the course of building we were living in our eight by ten feet tent. In the middle of the day the heat was almost unendurable. When my husband had finished superintending the erection of the framework of the house, and the last pole had been secured to the ridge, he suddenly took ill once again with malarial fever. His temperature ran up to an alarming degree. Throughout many nights I sat up by his bedside, binding cold linen cloths on his hot and feverish brow, and doing all that could be thought of to lessen the delirium caused by the severe fever.
The country was infested with leopards and lions. Even in daylight we used to see them, occasionally quite near to our tent, especially when the sun was declining about four to five in the afternoon. In the dark of the night they were continually growling about, and sometimes attempted to put their head under the tent. We had wooden boxes in which we kept our provisions, and a few iron cases for clothing, and these we placed, end to end, right round the tent to prevent the leopards from getting in. I had been successful in securing one or two fowls from the natives, and these I kept in an open box, over which wire netting had been securely nailed. I had this brought into the tent every evening before tying up the tent doors. One night a leopard drew the box out with his paw, tore up the wire netting and devoured my stock.
Later on, the same night, while I was sitting up watching by the side of my husband's bed, I found another of these beasts poking his nose underneath the tent. The danger seemed so great and imminent that I aroused my sick husband from his sleep; and, putting the rifle and cartridge bag into his hand, I pointed to where the leopard was trying to gain an entrance. Although very weak, he raised himself on the bed, slipped a cartridge into the rifle and fired at the spot indicated.
After the smoke had cleared away through the ventilators, I sat down again by the bedside, and eventually was enabled to sleep a little before daybreak. In the morning our men saw traces of blood in the grass, but no carcass could be found. The animal had evidently been hit rather far back and was able to get away some distance into the forest. After my husband recovered from fever, the work of the building went on rapidly, and in three months' time a substantial wattle-and-daub dwelling house had been erected, and we gladly moved into our new home.
Near to the dwelling house there had also been reared a house for native boys and a storeroom, while further away, at a convenient place for the natives, there was erected a most comfortable little church or meeting house, the seats of which were composed of the trunks of forest trees, resting at either end on short, stout forks of wood. Here we had some very profitable meetings daily. The old chief often came and some of his men with him. He became very friendly, and did all he could to influence his people to be favorable towards us. The Wagogo natives were exceedingly superstitious. According to current ideas, individuals having an evil eye and the power of witchcraft were very numerous. They were of the opinion that some of the people were able to turn themselves into noxious animals at night, and thus prowl about in the darkness, bringing sickness and death into the huts of those natives against whom they had any grudge or mischievous intentions. On questioning the natives particularly about these matters we found that several people had been burned alive, who were supposed to be guilty of bringing disease and death into certain families.
One day my husband was passing by a neighboring village, and saw a number of people congregated together in the adjoining forest. He went up to them and inquired what was the matter. He was told that a man had died that night through the witchcraft of a certain woman, who, it was said, had the power of turning herself into a hyena; and they were going to tie her to a tree and burn her. At first my husband took some of the old men aside, and sat down and calmly talked with them, pointing out their folly in imagining that this woman could do as they had said. He asked to have the woman pointed out to him, but they said she had already been taken away by some of the young men. As this meant that the sentence was to be carried out in some other part of the forest, my husband remonstrated with them. At considerable personal risk, he told them definitely that he would not allow any woman to be burned in the district. He came home speedily and got a couple of his native men, and started off to try to find the place to which the poor woman had been removed.
Eventually a friendly native told him that she had been led away to a certain district about five miles distant. Thither he hurried with eager feet, and arrived not one minute too soon, for already a fire was kindled, and the woman bound. My husband went up and forcibly released her. The younger portion of the crowd fled in all directions, not knowing what was going to happen next. With the warriors and elders, who remained on the scene, my husband had a long talk, showing them plainly the impossibility of this woman being able to cause that of which they had accused her, and that to burn an innocent woman was a terrible crime before God. The bold reproof, under the blessing of God, proved effective, for we never heard of another case of human sacrifice in the Viangi district. The woman was sent away to another part of the country in safety.
The Wagogo, we found to be very different in character and mode of living from the Wasagara, among whom we had previously labored. They were more suspicious, and less friendly and confiding than the Wasagara. While the latter live in small conical grass huts in single families, the Wagogo herd together in large groups, and erect dwellings of a very different type called "tembe" The tembe is a long continuous shed, of about twelve feet in width, surrounding an open oblong court, the circumference of the entire dwelling measuring from fifty to one hundred yards. The roof of the tembe is flat and formed of strong poles, over which there is a layer of leafy branches of trees and grass, and, on the top of this, another layer about twelve to fifteen inches deep of beaten clay. The final course of clay is well mixed with the fresh excrements of cattle, to render it more rainproof, and is raised somewhat in the center, so as to throw the water toward the eaves.
In one of these buildings live several families, numbering fifty or more people, while their cattle, sheep and goats are kept in the open court at night, the four surrounding walls of the tembe giving them protection from wild animals. One can scarcely conceive the state in which this courtyard is found during the rainy season. There is only one entrance to both building and interior yard, through which, alone, the animals and human occupants can enter in the evening and make their exit in the morning.
The young people are very musical, and are to be found daily going about with a one-stringed instrument, from which they are able to produce a great variety of sounds. The body of the instrument is a hollow gourd shell, and, as they play upon the cord, they manage so to touch various parts of the chest with the gourd, as to regulate the volume of sound and vary the notes of the instrument. The little fellows are very fond of the bow and arrow, and amuse themselves shooting rats, which they roast whole on the fire and greedily consume. The young warriors of the community, as is the case with most Central African tribes, are great dandies.
It is amazing the amount of time these young mashers give to the dressing of their hair and the adorning of their semi-nude bodies. Into each little natural curl of the hair, they twist a piece of vegetable cord, about twelve or fifteen inches long—a most tedious piece of work: and after this has been done, they gather them up into a single twist in front and two behind. This gives them a peculiarly odd appearance, as if the head was armed with an anterior and two posterior horns. In the lower lobe of the ear they insert a large piece of wood or the neck of a calabash, five or six inches in circumference. Their bodies are daubed with red ocher and castor oil, and around their loins is a small covering, while several bells on the ankles produce a tintinnabulation as they strut along. The women besmear their bodies with oil and clay as freely as the men, but their ear ornaments are flat, circular pieces of carved wood, inserted in the lower lobe. Their covering consists of a small skin apron of a few inches square, on which are sewn beads of various colors, while on their legs are huge coils of beads weighing several pounds. It is marvelous how conservative are some of these heathen tribes, and how difficult it is to persuade them to abandon customs that are hoary with age, however inconvenient or undesirable these may be. One day an old woman came to see me, with whom I had a lengthened conversation, leading up to the one thing needful. I deeply sympathized with the old creature, for her tiny apron was almost worn out, and I thought of how she might appreciate a garment to cover her nakedness. I measured her for a loose gown and asked her to wait while I made something for her. The scissors were soon plied on a piece of calico, and the garment cut out. Having a little hand sewing machine, I was not long in running it together. Seeing that she was getting impatient, I tried to interest her in the machine, while the cloth was being fed to the needle as quickly as possible. To make her garment more pleasing and acceptable, I trimmed it with a band of red turkey muslin. A buttonhole was worked at the neck, and a showy brass button of good size was attached; and the garment was then ready to be worn.
I enshrouded the old dame with the surplice and, as soon as it was buttoned on her, she ran off at full speed, never stopping until she vanished from my sight among the bushes. There, as the sequel proved, she divested herself of the garment, threw it to the winds, and went home in the happy nude state to which she had been accustomed all her days.