The sight of European children being carried up into the wilds of native Africa on carrying chairs was, to the natives of the Coast, a marvelous and unprecedented scene. Our little ones, the youngest not yet three months old, were too small to do much marching in the jungle, and my husband had several special carrying chairs made for them in London, according to his own idea and plan. The elder children were supposed to march occasionally, so as to allow their carriers to have a rest. There was also a carrying chair which had been designed for me and my baby, in which I could safely leave the child lying, whenever it was convenient for me to walk.
I felt very uncomfortable the first part of our journey, because I was unable to see or hold conversation with the children during the march, owing to the extreme narrowness of the track in the jungle, through which, in some places, the carriers could scarcely drag the chairs.
Being in single file, our porters covered, roughly speaking, a quarter of a mile; and it was impossible for me to pass up and down the line of carriers without obstructing and delaying the caravan.
The narrow paths through the bush are trodden by natives, passing from one part of the country to another, and by numerous wild animals, which may often be seen going to water or shelter for the night, in single file and true caravan order, and returning in the morning in like fashion. If a traveler were foolhardy enough to leave these tracks in the thick bush country, and attempt to proceed in a direct line by compass to any given point, though it were only a hundred miles away, he could never reach the goal of his ambition. Unless he had an army of men to cut a passage for his carriers through the forest and tangled undergrowth. Sometimes in more open country, a traveler is tempted to leave the beaten, narrow rut, when it seems to him that by proceeding in a more direct line he may save a few miles; but the result is always disastrous and disappointing, while it is more than probable that the half of his porters are unfitted for marching the following day, owing to their feet and legs being pricked and torn by the thorny bush.
After leaving the Coast, our first camping place was very uninviting, but we were obliged to pitch our tents there, due to the presence of water. The long dry season was just about ending, and a bush fire had burned down the grass of the valley in which the water lay, leaving behind it a trail of sooty blackness, which covered every spot of ground as with a pall. On the burnt earth we camped, as the night was fast approaching; but it seemed such a hardship to get our clean, new tents and bedding blackened by the fluffy, ashen remains of the burnt grass, which the evening breeze swept over everything, including our food and clothing, and the children's linen dresses were soon in a frightful mess.
The name of the valley in which we camped was Maji-ya-chumvi, which means brackish water. In all Central Africa, the natives never give highly overstated names to localities. Although they are the most evasive race of men on the face of the earth, yet, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, their names of places convey the most unadorned truthfulness concerning the districts to which their various names are given.
The water, bearing the un-euphonious title of Maji-ya-chumvi, was brought into camp. We tasted the liquid, and I know of nothing it resembled more closely than Hunyadi Janos (a darkish medicine), which on one occasion I was compelled to take by the doctor's orders, when I was a little girl—only that this had got much more thickness than that memorable medicine, and infinitely more color. Our children were all very thirsty after their first day's march in the burning tropical sun, but they made all sorts of grimaces on putting the water to their lips. We told them to wait, however, and see how nice it would taste when boiled and made into fresh, hot tea.
We were delighted when, on the following morning, we left behind us the black camp, and pushed our way through clean, unburnt forest, and then into more open bush, among the simple Duruma tribe, with their short tassellated aprons of fiber. We quite enjoyed passing through the more elevated expanses of their country, and were charmed with the changing scenery of the landscape, as we moved along. The Duruma are a weak, timid and retiring race. In sheltered areas of the forest they cultivated their little gardens, and, while we looked upon them moving around in their Adamic costume, underneath the overhanging palm leaves of the papaw tree, and among the trailing pumpkin bowers of the jungle, we could not but be charmed with the weirdness and simplicity of their life.
After holding conversation with one or two of these natives, we found that, like all other tribes, they had a desire to know something of the Eternal God, whose name they mentioned with reverence and awe. We camped near to some of their little huts, and heard that the wild, bloodthirsty natives of the distant interior—the Masai tribe—had, at times, crossed the great uninhabited wilderness, and swooped down upon these defenseless people, leaving men and women dying in their own blood.
After several days' quick marching, we had crossed the Duruma country, which is the last inhabited area before entering upon the great dry belt of thick forest growth known as the Tarn Desert, in which water is rarely to be found during the dry season.
Our last camp in the Duruma region was at some rock water holes on the borders of the wilderness. These curious circular potholes in the rocks were about eighteen inches to two feet in diameter, and four to seven feet deep. At the bottom of the round cavities, which had been drilled by some unknown process, we found a little filthy rain water, which our men sought to scoop out for the use of the camp. So low was the water in these narrow reservoirs, that a man lying flat on his face on the rock could not reach the fluid with his hand. It was necessary for him to be held upside down into the hole, held by his legs while drawing the cloudy liquid.
Every available water bottle and gourd shell was filled, and arrangements were made to start soon after midnight on our journey across the waterless wilderness, so that we might make a considerable advance before the dreaded fiery ball would rise in the east. It was three o'clock in the morning, however, before we got clear of the camp, and our progress was slow until daylight, when a good steady pace was kept up until ten o'clock. The heat was at this time indescribable, and our porters, with sweat streaming down their semi-nude bodies, sought rest and shade in the thick bush, which ran twenty to thirty feet high.
We were soon on the march once again, and plodded along for several hours, through very dense, spiny growth of almost impassable forest. Our ever-bending path was a very difficult one to follow, and, so thick was the intertwining mass of vegetation, that we rarely could see more than two or three yards ahead. To avoid deep, impassable earth clefts and thorny gorges, our twisting path at times doubled back upon itself, so that the voices of the carriers in front of the caravan could be heard by the men in the rear, and vice versa, as they proceeded in opposite directions, while unseen by one another.
Due to the low, matted branches of rigid growth overhead, our porters had the greatest possible difficulty in making progress with their loads, even in a stooping stance. Often had they to lower the load from their head, and, getting their arms around it, have squeezed their way through straitened, sylvan alleys, while several tomahawks had to be used to cut down obstructing growth, and make a narrow opening for the children's chairs. After miles of marching through this entangled, scrubby forest, we reached a more open part of the jungle, where the trees were higher, though preserving the same rigid, spiny aspect, and our view less blocked.
The fertility of this dry and scorched wilderness is amazing. When rain does fall on its dry surface, it sinks immediately through the extremely porous soil: therefore there is no surface drainage, so that whatever rainfall there may be at a certain period of the year is used up entirely by the dense plants.
Huge, termite castles of bright scarlet earth dot the landscape, for those lonely wilds seem to be the special inheritance and possession of the white ants. Every trunk, branch and spine of the forest is colored red with the tiny earth tunnels, which these tireless workers have constructed in searching for the food which the dry and rotten branches supply. The entire jungle is thus lit up with a red fiery glow when smitten by the blazing sun.
Through the hot bush our very hot porters pressed along until the sun had turned the high point, and the atmosphere was like that of a furnace. The gourd shells which every porter carried were alas! already emptied of their contents. A halt was called, to enable the men to stretch their weary limbs, and rest their aching shoulders; and then once again we proceeded on our way, as the orb of day was on the way out in the west. The forest growth became more thick again as we advanced, and the tortuous and serpentine path wound hither and thither, around unassailable thickets, so that, in one hour's marching, we were heading towards almost every point of the compass.
Already night was upon us, and our brave porters, who had been trudging along for fifteen hours, were thirsty, hungry and exhausted. Nevertheless, we had no thought of camping. Delay would mean death. No water with which to cook, or quench the fiery thirst: therefore, to save our lives, we were obliged to move forward.
In the darkness of the night the weary procession forged ahead with all the energy available, winding like a huge snake of three or four hundred yards along the narrow track which meandered through the bush, until we called a midnight halt for two hours' sleep. The loads were then thrown down, and the men flung themselves flat on the earth, and stretched their tired and aching limbs. At that hour, every man in the camp would have given all the food he carried for a cup of water. Underneath the trees were placed a few mattresses, on which the children were laid down to rest. There was no need of fires to keep off the wild beasts, for no animal would live so far away from water.
In a short time a deathly silence reigned among the prostrated forms of that group in the jungle, and all in the camp were fast asleep, except my husband. He had too much anxiety for the welfare of his porters to allow himself to become unconscious in slumber, fearing that the men when so fatigued might sleep till sunrise, and then it would be, humanly speaking, impossible to save the lives of the caravan. They were certainly too much exhausted ever to reach the water in the burning heat of the day.
A couple of hours after midnight the piercing call of the whistle roused the weary sleepers, and, after a few words of encouragement had been addressed to them to cheer their downcast spirits, the heavy loads were once again raised on the heads of the porters, and we continued the dreary march in the darkness of the night. We had yet about thirty-six miles to cover before striking the course of the Voi river, where there was a certainty of getting water. That point we never could reach. There existed, however, the bare probability of obtaining a little from the hollow summit of a hill, about eighteen miles ahead. During the hours of darkness, we shortened the distance between us and that doubtful supply. But the night passed, and the dreaded tropical sun rose again above the horizon, and our fast-collapsing carriers were beginning to fall by the way.
A halt was again called near to a gigantic, over hanging rock, which jutted out from a rugged, cone shaped elevation, so that our worn out porters might lie for a while within its shadow, and thus be able to carry on a few hours longer.
I have often thought how easy it is for those who have traveled through a thirsty wilderness to appreciate the metaphor, in which God conveys to us the message of the Gospel, in such passages as, "He! every one that thirsteth come ye to the waters." "He that is athirst let him come: he that will, let him take the water of life freely." The priceless worth of this precious fluid, for which we rarely thank God, is difficult to estimate in a country like Great Britain, where people would be surprised if even five or six weeks passed by without a shower of rain, and where water is given in such plentiful quantity as to be found flowing down almost every hillside.
How infinitely different is the case in the equatorial regions, where five and six months pass by every year without a single drop of rain, and where the scorching rays of the fierce sun strike down upon the earth with such fervid power as to crack the surface, and, in some places, open up fissures several feet deep. It is there the value of water is known, and the figure, in which our loving heavenly Father imparts to us the Gospel of eternal life, can be gladly appreciated.
In such a hot country, we can also more fully comprehend something of the unfathomable depth of meaning which lies in those prophetic words, in which Isaiah foretold the coming of the Messiah: "A man shall be as rivers of water in a dry place; as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." How often in the heat of the day have we seen our porters throwing themselves down under the shadow of some huge, projecting rock. No place so refreshing! No spot so cool! The great overhanging mass defies the penetrating rays of the tropical sun.
When a traveler, wearied and tired with the scorching heat of the jungle, comes upon such a resting place, and thinks of the Christ of God as "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land," what a volume of deepest meaning bursts upon him, as he is led to realize something of the refreshing rest which the soul may find in the Lord Jesus Christ.
While our porters lay recovering their strength in the cool nook, untouched by the sun's rays, they could see in the distance the hill of Maungu, rising from the parched wilderness, and eagerly looked forward to the hope of getting some precious fluid from the basin-like depression on the top. Meantime they were extended at full length, while the frothy lips and wild, staring eyes of many, proved how difficult to these sons of Africa had been the journey across that inhospitable, burning jungle. Our children had suffered terribly from thirst, and lack of sleep and nourishment, but they were bearing up bravely with the expectation of soon getting a little water. They never seemed to take their eyes off the hill on whose hollow crowned top the liquid might be found.
The men, then somewhat rested, were once more called to their feet, and urged to make one last, desperate effort to reach the base of the hill which had been pointed out to them. There was a movement among the exhausted forms, and a hearty, but weak, effort was made to start again. Two headmen were appointed to keep in the rear of the caravan, and assist those porters who might be unable to go on. Strict orders were given that no man should be left behind without help.
The final dash was then made for the base of Maungu. The heat was indescribable. Never seemed tropical sun to beat down on the earth with more fiery fury than on that day. My husband, with perspiration streaming down, until his light cotton jacket was dripping wet, paced to and fro along the line of porters, encouraging and directing first one and then another, who seemed on the verge of faltering and throwing themselves into the bush. The long-looked-for hill, on which our hopes depended, came into view, and as often disappeared, as we kept winding our way through the dry, rugged and undulating forest. Sometimes it looked so very near, and yet seemed again to move away from us, as we advanced on our way.
However, the last half hour of the long march had come, for there stood the bold, bare rocks of the hill, jutting out before our eyes. How dry and barren and parched looked that pyramidal elevation, on the burning plain of undersized forest. Alas! if there be no water to quench the thirst of our little ones, and no refreshing draft for the frothy, parched lips of our one hundred and twenty half-dying men!
The porters of the forward part of the caravan had already reached the hill, and thrown themselves and their loads down at its base, under some huge euphorbia trees. There was a twofold expression on the faces of most of them, that of mixed victory and defeat: no one could say which predominated. They had arrived at the hill; but who was to climb and explore the hollow depression on the summit, where there was a chance of finding water, and—what if there were none?! Was there still the possibility that they had endured so much to pass through the fiery jungle, and reached that hill... only to die!?
The one half of the caravan were yet far behind, and the weakest men in that section might still be miles away, and unable to reach the camp. My husband selected a place for the children and myself to lie down under some shady trees, and then passed through the camp, carefully scrutinizing the facial appearance of the men, who were stretched out underneath the bushes, so that he might detect which of them were fit to go up the hill. Ten of those men who seemed least exhausted were called, and instructed to take all available water vessels and gourd shells, and make their way up the hill, and see what water, if any, was to be obtained.
In a couple of hours the water exploring party returned to camp, with the news that there was only a very little thick, muddy water on the hill. However, they came back to us with all their vessels full; and these were placed near to our tent, and guarded by men, who had been appointed to deal out to each carrier a certain measure. Like wild beasts, the porters rushed forward, and had to be kept back by force, until each in turn was served. Then several men were chosen to go back with some gourds of water to the late porters, who had not yet succeeded in reaching camp.
Before the sun had sunk below the horizon, several relays of men had ascended the hill, and brought down a further supply of the filthy liquid, which, for the time being, we gladly called “water”.
When darkness had fallen upon us, many fires were burning fast under the spreading trees, and some dozens of pots were gaily boiling; and, by the light of the camp fires, one could see moving from place to place the tired forms of men, who were now gladdened with fresh hope, and able to rejoice in the fact that the worst of the wilderness was passed.