Part 3

The Elelescho is as prominent in those regions as the oak and beech or fir in Germany, or as the juniper, the heath, and the broom, and has the same influence on the landscape. But it has a greater and deeper influence upon the imagination, because it so dominates those solitudes, that to him who has long travelled in them the mere memory of it evokes a vivid picture of their once familiar aspect. The strong scent of the Elelescho plant leads the Masai to wear the leaves of the bush as a decoration round their ears for the sake of its perfume. It belongs thus to the plants that because of their scent are used as ornaments by warriors and maidens: “Il-käk ooitaa ‘l muran oo ‘n---- doiye ‘l---- orôpili.”[7] So there pass before us Masai maidens, and Masai warriors decked with Elelescho leaves and Elelescho branches, and received with sympathetic smiles by the caravan leaders--who, however, unlike the Masai, think very little of it. Very simple and naïve are the relations of these natives with nature around them. Only the obvious, the actually useful, comes into their thoughts, and for my black companions the Elelescho always recalls only memories of poor desert regions of the waste--regions in which they must often endure hunger and suffer many hardships. Far different is the influence of the Elelescho region on my feelings. For me this bush is symbolically linked with the plunge into uninhabited solitudes, with self-liberation from the pressure of the civilisation of modern men and all its haste and hurry.

We wish to feel once more, and to give ourselves up fully to, the spell of the Elelescho--the charm of the Elelescho thickets, that are also in South Africa in the lands about the Cape the characteristic mark of the velt, now so lonely, but once alive with hundreds of thousands of wild herds.

A wonderful night has come on.

The moon--in a few days it will be at the full--sheds its beams in glittering splendour over Lake Nakuro.

The little camp is soon wrapped in silence. The weary bearers sink into deep and well-earned slumber. Only the sentries, pushed far out, are on the alert. It was but a few days since the rebel Wakamassia hillmen were a source of danger to us, and nightly precautions are not yet forgotten. The moonbeams flicker ghost-like over the lake. Night-jars give forth their songs close to the camp all round us. Strange sounds and cries ring out from the throats of the waterfowl on the lake margins, and not far away one hears the snorting of the hippopotami. Jackals and spotted hyenas prowl round the camp, betraying themselves by their voices. The hyena’s howl and jackal’s wailing bark mingle strangely with the deep bass note of a bull-hippopotamus. Here in the wilderness there is hardly any sound that is louder than the mighty voice of these giants of the water.[8]

A strange feeling came over me. Amid all the ever-varying sensations of the last year my capacity for enjoyment, my sensitiveness to outside impressions, had been developed and enhanced. A short time since I was between life and death, struggling with the treacherous infection of fever. Now I was well. I was breathing the air some three thousand feet higher than the place where I lay ill near Victoria Nyanza. I was again in a region whose vast volcanic solitudes contrasted strongly with its abundance of highly developed organic life, and exercised a strange influence upon me.

Is there such a place as Europe? Is it possible that thousands of miles away there is a centre of civilisation whose teeming millions would fain imprint their image on the whole earth, and even lay covetous hands on this far-off wilderness, and that in time this must happen?

A world of which I myself am a unit! How strange that I can delight so deeply in all this wild charm! And how quickly the wishes of men change! A while ago, in the long nights of fever, I had but one desire--that my heart, my heart alone, should not be buried in a foreign soil, but be taken back to the Fatherland.

And now, only a few weeks after my recovery, how different seems to me all I may hope for from Fate, and how much more complex, how much more difficult to accomplish!

I yield myself up entirely to the spell of the wilderness, to the mood of the night.

That was ten years ago, before the Europeans had banished it--when it ached on the senses like the nocturne of some great tone-poet. But I know well that to-day it is no longer in existence; Lake Nakuro is now only a lake like any other, and the railway whistle wakes its echoes.

That night the spell must have been exceptionally strong. It seemed to me as though I were under some charm, as if I were carried back into the far-off times. There came before my mind much of what the lake had seen in the long vanished past. The lands around me heaved and quaked. Mighty earth-shaping forces were doing their work. I seemed to see before my eyes what happened here in primeval times--how volcanic forces, strange, boundless, and terrible, had built up and given form to the country around me here, destroying all living things, and yet at the same time preparing the conditions for the hotly pulsating waves of life of later days. In my mind I saw pass before me wondrous mighty forms of the animal world of the past, long since extinct. Then--suddenly I started up. What was that?

A loud trumpeting ran in my ears! Elephants! Were there still extant such herds of elephants as those that I saw coming down there to the lake to drink, rolling themselves in the mud of its banks, and openly making friends with the hippopotami? Just as in the daytime I had noticed the different kinds of antelopes and the zebras, so here I saw again the elephants and hippopotami living their life close together, moving round or beside each other without fear or hesitation. The herd, numbering many hundred heads, was guided to its drinking-place silently and slowly by its aged leader, a female elephant of most exceptional size. Many young elephants were there in company with their mothers. Some very little ones, only a few weeks old, played with their comrades, or knowingly imitated the movements of the older animals in the water, while the old ones took care to prevent the tender young creatures from taking any harm.

But it all seemed somehow impossible! Veterans among the most experienced black elephant-hunters had assured me that such huge herds were not to be met with. And if I saw aright in the shimmering moonlight, what a great mass of hippopotami were moving about there before me! And now, paying, no attention to the elephants that were peacefully bathing farther out in the muddy water, they clambered on to the land, and began to graze like cows on the bank among some more of the elephants. It was exactly the same friendly relation that I had seen between the dwarf gazelles and the zebras during the day. Could I be only dreaming? Such a multitude of huge creatures here close to my camp--it could hardly be a reality!

And now I perceived that a second herd of elephants, some hundreds strong, was approaching the water. In a straight line these still more giant-like colossi came down to the lake margin--all of them, as I now clearly perceived, bulls with mighty tusks, and amongst them some quite enormous tuskers, obviously patriarchs of the herd, and carrying some hundreds of pounds’ weight of ivory that glittered afar in the moonlight.

The two herds greeted each other with their curious cries, difficult to describe, and then the newcomers began to bathe and drink.

My attention was especially arrested by some of the elephants, clearly visible in the moonlight, keeping apart from the rest. Standing together in pairs they caressed each other with their trunks, while the enormous ears which are such an imposing decoration of the African elephant stood out from their heads, so as to make them look larger than ever.

My wonder increases! Numerous herds of giraffes, hundreds strong, come down to the lake, and this, too, not far from the elephants, and without any fear.

And now there is again a new picture! A herd of innumerable buffaloes. With their great formidable heads turned watchfully towards the rest of the crowd, they too are coming for a refreshing bath. Their numbers still increase. It is a sight recalling, surpassing even, the descriptions given by the first travellers over the velt regions of Cape Colony.

How did all this accord with the reports I had received of the scarcity of elephants? with the destruction of the buffalo by the cattle plague? With my own previous experiences? The most authoritative of my informants had assured me that in this district the elephant was to be found very rarely, the buffalo hardly ever!

Suddenly with mysterious swiftness the night is gone, and the day breaks. I search for and find the tracks of my giant guests of the night. I had made no mistake. Monstrous footprints are sharply impressed in the mud, the ground looks as it had been ploughed up, and in the midst of the plain, not very far from the lake, there are actually hundreds of mighty elephants standing near some ol-girigiri acacias. As I begin to watch them, they suddenly become restless. In their noiseless way they make off at an extremely quick rate, and soon disappear behind the nearest ridge.

Round about me I see herds of zebras, hartebeests, and wild animals of all kinds in vaster numbers even than those yesterday. The deep bellow of the wild buffalo breaks upon my ear. I can see long-necked towering giraffes in the acacia thickets. The snorting of numerous hippopotami sounds from the lake. Some of these burly fellows are sunning themselves on its margin; and quite close to them several rhinoceroses are grazing peacefully in the midst of their uncouth cousins.

I am surprised, too, at seeing a troop of lions disappearing into the bush, after having made a visit to the water. They are so close to me that I can plainly see by the shape of their bodies that they are going home after having had an abundant repast.

The behaviour of my people puzzles me. I had no opportunity for questioning them as to why they were not more impressed by this unexpected spectacle, for my attention was suddenly arrested by the appearance of a lengthy caravan of bearers, that seemed as if it had emerged before my eyes from the trampled ground. There is new life and movement among the herds of wild animals. Slowly, defiantly, or in swift-footed fear, each according to its kind, all these wonderful creatures seek safety from the approaching crowd.

A robust negro marches at the head of the caravan. He carries a white flag inscribed all over with texts from the Koran. Hundreds of bearers come steadily in. Each carries a load of nearly ninety pounds’ weight, besides his cooking gear, sleeping-mat, gun and powder-horn. At regular intervals grave-looking, bearded Arabs march among the bearers. Two stately figures, riding upon asses and surrounded by an armed escort, are evidently the chiefs, and a great drove of asses with pack-saddles laden with elephant tusks brings up the rear. Very quickly the numerous party establish their camp, and I now remark that hundreds of the bearers are also laden with ivory. It is clearly a caravan of Arab ivory-traders.

After the usual greetings--“Sabal kher” (“God bless thee”), and “Salaam aleikum,” questions are asked in the Swahili language: “Habari ghani?” (“What news?”) I now learn that the party of travellers set out some two years ago from Pangani on the coast to trade for ivory in the Masai country. I am surprised to hear the Arabs tell how, although theirs is one of the first caravans that have made the attempt, they have penetrated far into the inhospitable and perilous lands of the Masai. Their journey has been greatly delayed, for they have had to fight many battles with the Wachenzi, the aborigines of the districts through which they marched. “But Allah was with us, and the Unbelievers had the worst of it! Allah is great, and Mohammed is his prophet!”

Every one set busily to work. In the turn of a hand the camp was surrounded with a thorny zereba hedge, and made secure.

And now I had personal experience of what has passed, times without number, in the broad lands of the Masai;--armed detachments from the caravan started on raids for far-off districts. The timid Wandorobo, that strange subject tribe of the Masai, brought more and more ivory to the camp to sell it to the traders, after long and obstinate bargaining. It was remarkable how clever were the people of the caravan in dealing with these timid wild folk, and how well they knew how to gain their confidence.[9] This confidence, however, was not made use of in trade and barter for the advantage of the natives. But thanks to the methods and ways of managing the natives, as the traders understood them, we saw that the wild folk were quite satisfied, and this was the main point.

But what patience is required in trade of this kind! A white man could never develop such Oriental patience. Again and again a tusk would be endlessly bargained over, till at last, often after days of chaffering, it passed into the possession of the caravan. The natives were of course bent on getting the tusks, sooner or later, into the camp. At the very outset they had sent in a most exact description of them, and then envoys from the caravan had to go and inspect them, often at a distance of several days’ march from the camp.

Every day a great number of Masai warriors appeared in the camp. Men belonging to many kraals, owners of great herds of cattle, camped near the lake. There were not infrequent skirmishes, especially at night time. The young warriors, the Moran, made attempts at plunder, and were beaten off with broken heads. But, on the whole, this hardly disturbed the good understanding. “It is their testuri (custom),” thought the experienced and fatalistic coast folk, and they accepted it as an unavoidable incident of the trade. But festivals were also arranged, with dance and song. In the still moonlit nights the strange chant rang out in a high treble far over the plain, and sounded in the rocky hills, and festivity and rejoicing reigned among the warriors, the girls, and the women.

But by day one saw their busy life displayed, all the bucolic poetry of grazing herds of cattle with their spear-armed herdsmen. There was a great deal to be done, and in each and every task the Masai girls and women showed themselves, like the men, excellent guardians and attendants of their herds.

In the neighbourhood of the Masai kraals the wild animals of the plain mingled freely with the tame cattle of the Masai, knowing well that the Masai folk would not shoot them. The wild animals were exposed only to the attacks of the Wandorobo. But these latter bore themselves very shyly in the presence of their over-lords, the Masai, and went off to far distant hunting grounds, so that the wild animals were hardly ever disturbed by a hunter.

The young Masai warriors also began to devote themselves to hunting for ivory. With great courage, and often with no small display of dexterity, they killed a large number of elephants, allured by the high prices offered by the caravans. But they kept the beautiful tusks carefully hidden, buried in the earth till the moment when they had successfully arranged a sale. The buried treasure was easy to conceal. At the place where the tusks were put away the grass was set on fire and burned up over a considerable area, and then no eye could distinguish the slightest indication of the buried treasure.

The Elmoran also made use of a method of hunting which is employed in other parts of Africa, namely, to slip quietly up to an elephant, and with a single powerfully delivered sword-cut sever the tendon Achilles. But few indeed were daring enough to attempt this, and these were strong, brave, and well-trained warriors. Such an exploit won for them high respect among their comrades of the clan.

While the Masai warriors thus took their share in elephant-killing, and the Wandorobo stuck to their long, trusted poisoned darts and poisoned spears, the caravan folk attacked the elephants with powder and iron bullets,[10] and slew whole hecatombs of them.

“Nowadays,” the leader of the caravan told me, “the chase is easier and less dangerous, and your firearms also give the man from the coast the power of hunting and killing the Fihl (elephant). For example, you know, sir, that my half-brother, Seliman bin Omari, is not a practised hunter. And yet, believe me, he and his people have brought down many, many elephants.”

But his banker on the coast, the Hindoo Radda Damja, certainly never hears one word of any elephant being killed by Seliman’s people:

“No one is so clever as he is at knowing nothing about elephants when questions are asked. The ivory is always something traded for with the natives, far, far away in the interior,” he adds, with a cunning wink. “The main point is that we all get pembe (ivory), and he gets plenty of it! I would like to work the business as he does, but, sir, I am not so clever in preparing amulets, and moreover, I don’t know as much as he does of the ways of the elephant.

“But it’s a pity that in all parts of the country the ivory is becoming very scarce, so one has to be going always farther into the interior, and one must try to find new ivory districts.”

Thus my Arab informant talked a long time with me. He told me much that was interesting and much that was new to me. He told me of caravans that had been massacred, cut off to the last man by the natives in remote districts: and again of caravans that had been not one or two,--no, as long as six years on the march, that had buried a lot of ivory and gradually got it down to the coast. Time counts for nothing here, for the people--that is to say, those who are not slaves--receive only the one lump sum agreed upon for the journey, no matter how long it lasts. His friends, with caravans mustering many hundreds, had carried hundreds and hundreds of barrels of gunpowder into the interior, they had sought everywhere for new districts abounding in ivory, and the result had been the slaughter of the elephants on all sides. Nevertheless he had not much to tell me of men having enriched themselves by this trade. However, this did not apply to the traders on the coast, who advanced the money. These lent money to the caravan leaders, who went into the interior, at the high rate of interest usual in the East, and thus became rich men. They had, of course, also many losses. It happened not seldom that one of their debtors was “lost” in the interior, which means that he simply did not come back, but chose to pass the rest of his life in exile. And in that case it would be a difficult matter for the creditor to take proceedings against him.

Then my informant told me how many of the elephant hunters still living had been carrying on their business already for a long time before any Europeans whatever thought of making a prolonged stay in the country. He told me also much that was interesting about the old trade routes extending far through Africa, and even to the Congo. He had friends and relatives who had already traversed these routes many times, and journeyed from the east coast even to the Congo, long before any European traveller. Many of the people of his caravan were able to tell from memory each day’s journey as far as the Congo, and give exact information about the chiefs who held sway in each district, and the possibility of getting supplies of various kinds of provisions, such as maize, millet, bananas, or other products of the country.

I cannot exactly say how long he had talked with me about elephants and elephant-hunting, about the ivory trade, and many other things. I only know one thing--that after some time his talk became more and more difficult for me to understand, that I strove in vain against an ever-increasing weariness, and that at last I saw neither the Arab nor the caravan--in a word, saw nothing more, felt nothing more.

I fell into a deep sleep in which, in my dreams, I had a lively argument with some Europeans, who would not believe so many elephants, buffaloes, and other wild animals had formerly been here, and who kept on objecting strongly that it was impossible that all this could have been the case so short a time ago.

When I woke up again I found myself in my lounging-chair, a primitive piece of furniture of my own construction. My black servant stood before me, and asked me if I would not rather go to bed.

I rubbed my eyes--it had all been a dream, then; the spell of Elelescho must have inspired me with it. How foolish to yield to this spell! But men will perhaps so yield to it when all this has become “historical” and the Masai and their lives and deeds have, like the Redskins of America, found their Fenimore Cooper.

Then may the spell of the Elelescho exert its rightful power; then may it make famous the slender, sinewy, noble Masai ol-morani as, amidst his fair ones, his “doiye,”[11] he leads the song-accompanied dance as he goes out to war, and reigns the free lord of the wilderness! But to-day he bears on his brow the significant mark of an inexorable fate--that of the last of the Mohicans.

The spell of the Elelescho has departed from Lake Nakuro, once so remote from the world.

The lake is no longer remote.

Iron railway lines link it with the Indian Ocean. Vanished from it is the spell that I once felt both waking and sleeping; gone is the poetry of the elephant herds, the Masai, the Wandorobo, and the caravan life in all its aspects; gone all that I saw there. The traveller, if he would learn to know the primitive life and ways, whether of men or of the animal world, if he would know the primeval harmony that speaks to him in an overpowering language peculiar to itself, must press on into the wilderness farther away from these tracks. This harmony, whose special character is day by day disappearing, day by day is in an ever increasing measure destroyed, cannot be recalled under the new, the coming system, the system that abandons itself to restlessness--that, in a word, which we call modern industry, modern civilisation.