At this season of the year the nights are still cold, and the people, having no crops to occupy their attention, do not stir out till long after the sun is up.At other times they are off to their fields before the day dawns, and the first sound one hears is the loud talking of men and women, in which they usually indulge in the dark to scare off beasts by the sound of the human voice.When no work is to be done, the first warning of approaching day is the hemp-smoker's loud ringing cough.
Having been delayed one morning by some negotiation about guides, who were used chiefly to introduce us to other villages, we two whites walked a little way ahead, taking the direction of the stream.The men having been always able to find out our route by the prints of our shoes, we went on for a number of miles.This time, however, they lost our track, and failed to follow us.The path was well marked by elephants, hyenas, pallahs, and zebras, but for many a day no human foot had trod it.When the sun went down a deserted hamlet was reached, where we made comfortable beds for ourselves of grass.
Firing muskets to attract the attention of those who have strayed is the usual resource in these cases.On this occasion the sound of firearms tended to mislead us; for, hearing shots next morning, a long weary march led us only to some native hunters, who had been shooting buffaloes.Returning to a small village, we met with some people who remembered our passing up to the Lake in the boat; they were as kind as they could be.The only food they possessed was tamarinds, prepared with ashes, and a little cowitch meal.The cowitch, as mentioned before, has a velvety brown covering of minute prickles, which, if touched, enter the pores of the skin and cause a painful tingling.The women in times of scarcity collect the pods, kindle a fire of grass over them to destroy the prickles, then steep the beans till they begin to sprout, wash them in pure water, and either boil them or pound them into meal, which resembles our bean-meal.This plant climbs up the long grass, and abounds in all reedy parts, and, though a plague to the traveller who touches its pods, it performs good service in times of famine by saving many a life from starvation.Its name here is Kitedzi.
Having travelled at least twenty miles in search of our party that day, our rest on a mat in the best hut of the village was very sweet.
We had dined the evening before on a pigeon each, and had eaten only a handful of kitedzi porridge this afternoon.The good wife of the village took a little corn which she had kept for seed, ground it after dark, and made it into porridge.This, and a cup of wild vegetables of a sweetish taste for a relish, a little boy brought in and put down, with several vigorous claps of his hands, in the manner which is esteemed polite, and which is strictly enjoined on all children.
On the third day of separation, Akosanjere, the headman of this village, conducted us forward to our party who had gone on to Nseze, a district to the westward.This incident is mentioned, not for any interest it possesses, apart from the idea of the people it conveys.
We were completely separated from our men for nearly three days, and had nothing wherewith to purchase food.The people were sorely pressed by famine and war, and their hospitality, poor as it was, did them great credit, and was most grateful to us.Our own men had become confused and wandered, but had done their utmost to find us;
On our rejoining them, the ox was slain, and all, having been on short commons, rejoiced in this "day of slaughter."Akosanjere was, of course, rewarded to his heart's content.
As we pursued our way, we came close up to a range of mountains, the most prominent peak of which is called Mvai.This is a great, bare, rounded block of granite shooting up from the rest of the chain.It and several other masses of rock are of a light grey colour, with white patches, as if of lichens; the sides and summits are generally thinly covered with rather scraggy trees.There are several other prominent peaks--one, for instance, still further north, called Chirobve.Each has a name, but we could never ascertain that there was an appellation which applied to the whole.This fact, and our wish to commemorate the name of Dr. Kirk, induced us afterwards, when we could not discover a particular peak mentioned to us formerly as Molomo-ao-koku, or Cock's-bill, to call the whole chain from the west of the Cataracts up to the north end of the Lake, "Kirk's Range."
The part we slept at opposite Mvai was named Paudio, and was evidently a continuation of the district of one of our stations on the Shire, at which observations for latitude were formerly taken.
Leaving Paudio, we had Kirk's Range close on our left and at least 3000 feet above us, and probably not less than 5000 feet above the sea.Far to our right extended a long green wooded country rising gradually up to a ridge, ornamented with several detached mountains, which bounded the Shire Valley.In front, northwards, lay a valley as rich and lovely as we ever saw anywhere, terminating at the mountains, which, stretched away some thirty miles beyond our range of vision and ended at Cape Maclear.The groups of trees had never been subjected to the landscape gardener's art; but had been cut down mercilessly, just as suited the convenience of the cultivator; yet the various combinations of open forest, sloping woodland, grassy lawns, and massive clumps of dark green foliage along the running streams, formed as beautiful a landscape as could be seen on the Thames.This valley is named Goa or Gova, and as we moved through it we found that what was smooth to the eye was very much furrowed by running streams winding round innumerable knolls.These little brooklets came down from the range on our left, and the water was deliciously cool.
