Part 9

The day cannot be far distant when the beautiful eyes of the last “Twigga” will close for ever in the desert. No human skill will be able to prevent this, in spite of the progress of human knowledge and human technique. The giraffe can never enter the little circle of domesticated animals. Therefore it must go. Perhaps its eyes will close in the midst of the Elelescho jungle, thus lessening still further the fascination of that survival from the youth of the world.

XIV

Camping out on the Velt

Among the happiest days of my life I reckon those which I spent camping out in the heart of the Nyíka.

Nearly every hour there had something fresh to arouse my interest, not only in the life of the wild animals that roamed at large all about, but also in that of the specimens which I had caught or my men had brought to me, and whose habits and ways I could observe within the enclosure of the camp. Of course our unique menagerie could not boast members of all the most attractive species of the African fauna, but it included some very rare and interesting animals which Europe has never seen. To know these one must go and live in wildest Africa and see them at home.

My camp at times was like a little kingdom. Many of my people went out for weeks together to barter for fruits and vegetables with agrarian tribes. With the rest, I spent my days out in the open, hunting, collecting, and observing. My zoological collection increased daily, time flew by with all the many jobs there were to be done--drying, preserving, preparing, sorting, labelling, and sending off specimens. The primitive camp life was full of interest in spite of its seeming monotony. It was like ruling and ordering a little State. I thoroughly enjoyed this simple existence, in which I seemed to forget the artificial worries of civilisation and to be able to give myself up to my love for nature.

Then I learned to appreciate the natives. Of course they are not to be judged from a European standpoint as regards habits and customs, but I shall always remember with pleasure certain strong and good characters among my followers.

Nomadic hunters--shy and suspicious as the animals they hunted--sometimes paid us passing visits, whilst the whole world of beasts and birds thronged around our “outpost of civilisation,” so suddenly planted in their midst.

My goods and chattels were stowed away in a hut which I had put up myself, and which was protected from wind, rain, and sun by masses of reeds and velt grasses. This hut was of the simplest construction, but I was very proud of it. It was useful not only for protecting zoological collections from the all-pervading rays of the sun, and from rain and cold, but also from the numerous little fiends of insects against which continual warfare has to be waged. The destructive activity of ants is a constant source of annoyance to travellers and collectors; I remember how my one-time fellow-traveller Prince Johannes Löwenstein had the flag on his tent destroyed by them in a single night. In one night also these ants bit through the ticket-threads by which my specimens were classified; in one night, again, the tiny fiends destroyed the bottoms of several trunks which had been carelessly put away!

One has to wage constant warfare against destroyers of every kind.

My cow, which was very valuable to me, not only as giving milk to my people, but also for nourishing young wild animals, was penned at night-time within a thick thorn hedge. My people made themselves more or less skilfully constructed shelters under the bushes and trees. Thus a miniature village grew up, of which I was the despotic ruler. The native hunters who visited us would sometimes accompany me on long expeditions.

For me there are no “savages.” When an intelligent man comes across a tribe hitherto unknown to him he will carefully study their seemingly strange habits, and thus will soon recognise that they have their own customs and laws which they regard as sacred and immutable, and which order their whole existence. He will no longer desire the natives to adopt the manners and customs of the white man, for which they are absolutely unsuited.

But by the time I got friendly with these nomads they were off again. It is against their habits to stay long in one place, and they do not willingly enter into close relations with a European--or indeed with any one. Suddenly one fine morning we find their sleeping quarters empty; they have disappeared, never to return. No obligation, no command, would ever bind these wanderers to one place. Children of the moment, children of the wilderness, their lives are spent in constant roaming.

I hardly ever had a leisure hour, for there was much to arrange and see to in my camp. I had many functions to perform. I was my own commissioner of public safety; I looked after the commissariat; I was doctor and judge. I supervised all the other offices and pursued a number of handicrafts. Like Hans Sach I followed with pride the avocations of shoemaker, tailor, joiner, and smith, my very scanty acquaintance with all these various trades being put to astonishingly good use. I was like the one-eyed man among the blind.

What judgments of Solomon have I not given! Once two of my best people quarrelled, an Askari and his wife. The serious character of the quarrel could be estimated from the noise of weeping and the sound of blows that had proceeded from their tent. The man wished to separate from his wife.

“Why did you beat your wife last night?”

The Askari (who has served under both German and English masters) stands to attention.

“Because she was badly behaved--I will not keep her any more--I am sending her away.”

“But why--rafiki yangu?--my friend? Such things will happen at times, but it is not always so bad--see? Who will look after you? who will prepare your meals? Look at her once more; she is very pretty--don’t you think so? And she cooks very well” (both parties, as well as the bystanders, are smiling by now). “Go along, then, and make friends.”

And they go and make friends.

A deputation of the Waparis come to the camp. They crouch down near my tent and beg for a “rain charm” to bring down showers upon their fields. It is somewhat difficult to help them. I take the gifts which they bring to pay for the charm and make them a more valuable return, and by means of the barometer I am able to foretell rain. They gaze at the wizard and his charm wonderingly, and come again later to see them both.

Countless similar events succeed one another, and ever the everyday monotony of the simple camp life has its delights.

Day by day my menagerie increases. To-day it is a young lion I add to it, to-morrow a hyena, a jackal, a monkey, a marabou, geese, and other velt-dwellers, all of which I instal as members of my little community and try to become friends with. My efforts have sometimes been amply rewarded. Once during the early morning hours we discovered a large troop of baboons. It was cool: the cold, damp morning mist grew into a drizzling rain; the animals huddled up closely together for the sake of warmth. Later they came down to seek their food. Cautiously we posted ourselves as if we had not noticed the monkeys. But remembering their long sight, I organised a battue, which succeeded admirably and secured me several young ones. At first the comical creatures obstinately withstood all efforts to tame them. Soon, however, they got to recognise their attendant, and became attached to him. Unlike other species of monkeys, baboons are full of character. Like some dogs, they are devoted to their masters but antagonistic to other people. They show their dislike for strangers very clearly. I was always much touched, when I came back from a long tramp on the velt, to be met with outbursts of joy by my chained-up baboons. They recognised their master in the far distance, reared themselves on their hind legs, and gave demonstrations of joy in every possible way as they saw him approaching.

Sometimes, too, other inmates of my camp evinced their pleasure at my appearance. This was especially the case with a marabou which I had caught when fully grown. As he had been slightly hurt in the process of capture, I tended him myself most carefully, and experienced great satisfaction on his restoration to health. From the time of his recovery the bird was faithful to me, and did not leave the camp any more, although he was only caged at night-time! He attached himself to my headman, and tried to bite both men and beasts whom he considered as not to be trusted, and generally sat very solemnly in the vicinity of my camp and greeted me on my home-comings by wagging his head and flapping his wings. Such a clatter he made as he gravely rushed backwards and forwards! Not until I caressed him would he be quiet. After a time he began to build himself a nest under the shade of a bush quite close to my tent. The dimensions of this nest gradually increased in an extraordinary manner. This eyrie he defended to the utmost, and would not allow my blacks to go near it, or any of his animal companions. Great battles took place, but he always made his opponents take to their heels, and even the poor old donkey, if it happened to come his way. On the other hand, he was very friendly with my young rhinoceros. It was an extraordinary sight to see the rhinoceros with its friends, the goats and the solemn bird. Two fine Colobus monkeys, three young lions, young ostriches, geese, and various other creatures made up my little zoological garden. They all were good friends among themselves and with my tame hens, which used to prefer to lay their eggs in my tent and in those of the bearers. Sometimes I used to entrust some francolin eggs to these hens. (Hardly any of the many beautiful East African species of francolins have so far been brought alive to Europe.) Once I had for weeks the pleasure of seeing some beautiful yellow-throated francolins (_Pternistes leucosepus infuscatus_, Cab.) running about perfectly tame among the other animals in camp.

I was often able to contemplate idyllic scenes among my quaint collection of animals. The behaviour of my baby rhinoceros interested me greatly. It was the pet of my caravan, and I was very proud of having reared it, for I had longed for two years for such a little creature, and had made many vain attempts to obtain one. Its friendship with two goats I have already mentioned in my previous book. They formed a strange trio. Very often the kid used the rhinoceros as a cushion, and all three were inseparable. The beast and the two goats often made little excursions out into the immediate neighbourhood of my camp. At these times they were carefully guarded by two of my most trustworthy people. The “rhino” was provided with its accustomed vegetable foods. When the little beast was in a good humour it would play with me like a dog, and would scamper about in the camp snorting in its own peculiar way. Such merry games alternated with hours of anxiety, during which I was obliged to give my foster-child food and medicine with my own hands, and to fight the chigoes (_Sarcopsylla penetrans_, L.), commonly called “jiggers,” those horrible tormentors which Africa has received from America.

In the evening my flocks and herds of sheep, goats and cattle came home, and among them some gnus which I had been able to obtain from an Arab through the friendly help of Captain Merker. It reminded one of pictures of old patriarchal days to see the animals greet their expectant calves and kids. It was always interesting, too, to watch the skilful handling of the cattle by the Masai herdsmen. The cows in Africa all come from Asia, and belong to the zebu family. They will only give milk when their calves have first been allowed to suck. Only then can the cow be milked, and that with difficulty, whilst a second herdsman holds the calf for a while a little distance off. Thus it was I obtained, very sparingly at first, the necessary milk for my young rhinoceros. Some days there was a grand show of varied animal life. Cows, bullocks, sheep, goats, my rhinoceros, young lion-cubs, hyenas, jackals, servals and monkeys, hens, francolins and marabou, geese, and other frequenters of the velt were in the camp, some at liberty and some chained, which caused many little jealousies and much that was interesting to notice.

My kitchen garden was invaded by tame geese and storks, which lived on the best of terms with the cook. It was irresistibly funny to see the sage old marabou acting as cook’s assistant, gravely crouching near him and watching all his movements. Very often the tame animals in my camp had visitors in the shape of wild storks and geese, which came and mixed among the others, so that often one could not distinguish which were wild and which tame. We could see all kinds of animals coming close to the camp. I have even followed the movements of rhinoceroses with my field-glasses for some time.

Some of my captives were not to be tamed at any price. We had a young hyena, for instance, which struggled obstinately with its chain. On the other hand, some hyenas, especially spotted ones, became so domesticated that they followed me about like dogs.

A young lion which I had had in my camp for some time, and which had grown into quite a fine specimen, often made itself so noticeable at night that, as my watchman told me, it was answered by other lions from outside. This made it necessary to take active precautions for the night, and my menagerie was brought into the centre of my camp for greater safety.

Many of the friendships which I formed with my _protégés_ have been kept up. My marabou still remembers me, and greets me with great joy in his cage in the Berlin Zoological Garden, much to the irritation of his neighbour in the cage next door. I have no need to avoid the grip of his powerful beak, which the keeper has learnt to fear. He has never used this weapon against me. In whatever dress I may approach him he always recognises me, and greets me with lively demonstrations of pleasure. Even the rhinoceros seems to recognise his one-time master, although one cannot be quite sure of this in so uncouth a creature.

It is very difficult to know how to manage a rhinoceros. It was quite a long time before I succeeded in discovering its best diet. Young rhinoceroses almost always succumb in captivity, though seemingly so robust. We have not yet succeeded in bringing an elephant from German or British East Africa to Europe, or indeed any of the other animals, such as giraffes and buffaloes and antelopes, which live in the same districts. It appears that it is just these interesting wild animals which are the most difficult to accustom to captivity and to keep alive. The attempt to bring home alive a couple of the wonderful Kilimanjaro Colobus apes (_Colobus caudatus_, Thos.) resulted in one of the monkeys dying a few days after my arrival; the other lived for two years only, and was the sole specimen of its kind ever seen in Europe. Every zoologist and lover of animals who goes into the colonies has a wide field of activity open before him in this respect. If only more people could be made to take an interest in these things we might buoy ourselves up with the hope of obtaining and keeping some of the best and rarest specimens of African animal life, perhaps even a full-grown gorilla from the West Coast--perhaps even an Okapi!

I was only able to keep my little menagerie together for a few weeks at a time, as I had to be constantly setting out on fresh expeditions. On these occasions I was accustomed to leave the animals in some village under the care of trustworthy blacks, so that I could take them again on my return journey to the coast. The weeks and months I spent in camp with my animals were a great source of pleasure to me. At night-time there were occasions when “rhinos” and “hippos” paid us visits, as could be plainly seen by the tracks found the next morning.[18] Hyenas and jackals came very often, and even lions sometimes came to within a short distance of the camp. Thus my zoological garden, in spite of its size, could well boast of being, so to speak, the most _primitive_ in the world.

But we had our anxious moments. Death levied its toll among my people, and the continual rumours of uprisings and attacks from outside gave plenty to talk about during the whole day, and often far on into the night over the camp-fire. When one of these charming African moonlit nights had set in over my homestead, when the noise of the bearers with their chatter and clatter had ceased, and my work, too, was done, then I used to sit awhile in front of the flickering flames and think. Or I would wander from fire to fire to exchange a few words with my watchmen, to learn their news and their wishes and to ask much that I wanted to know. This is the hour when men are most communicative, and unless there be urgent need of sleep the conversation may continue far into the night.

There is something strangely beautiful about those nights in the wilderness. My thoughts go back to an encampment I once made at the foot of the volcanic mountain of Gelei, close to a picturesque rocky gorge, in the depths of which was a small stream--a mere trickle during the hot weather. Its source lay in the midst of an extensive acacia wood, which tailed off on one side into the bare, open “boga,” while on the other it became merged in a dense thicket of euphorbia trees, creepers, and elelescho bushes, impenetrable to men but affording a refuge to animals, even to elephants. On the day before I had noted the fact that Masai warriors had recently encamped in the neighbourhood, with cattle which they had got hold of on a marauding expedition (and some of which they had here slaughtered), and that with their booty they had betaken themselves over the English frontier. It was quite on the cards that roaming young Masai warriors would suddenly turn up while I was there. It was several days’ journey to the nearest inhabited region. For weeks together one would see no human soul save for a nomadic hunter every now and again.

The great barren wilderness, which then in the dry season could boast of no verdure save the evergreen Hunger-plant, so well suited to the arid velt; the romantic site of my camp; the beautiful moonlight night, darkened over from time to time by great masses of clouds, heralding the approach of rain; the dangers lurking all around: everything conspired to produce a wonderful effect upon the mind. The night had come upon us silently, mysteriously, jet-black. Before the moon rose, one’s fancy foreshadowed some sudden incursion into the death-like darkness, the bodeful silence. There was something weird and unnatural about the stillness--it suggested the calm before the storm. Faint rustlings and cracklings and voices inaudible by day now made themselves heard. The world of the little living things came by its own, and crackled and rustled among plants and branches and reeds and grass. Hark! Is that the sound of a cockchafer or a mouse, or is it the footstep of a foe?... Even within my tent there are evidences of life. Rats bestir themselves upon their daring enterprises, to meet their end, here and there, in my traps. Emin Pasha has told us how he experienced the same kind of thing. How dormice and beautiful Sterkulien made their home in his camp, gleefully climbing up and down the canvas of his tent during the night--doubtless gazing at the strange white man with their great, dark, wide-open eyes, as they did at me.... Save for these sounds there is complete stillness, broken only by the voice of the night-jar, mournful and monotonous, as it wings its eerie, noiseless flight in and out of the firelight and round and round the camp.

Beyond the glow of the camp-fire our eyes cannot travel--we cannot see what is happening outside the camp, even quite close at hand. This intensifies one’s feeling of insecurity, for I know well how suddenly and with what lightning speed the great felines manage their attacks. It is in just such circumstances that so many men fall victims to lion and leopard. One evening a leopard will snatch a small dog from your feet, the next it will carry off one of the native women before the eyes of the whole population of your camp. You must have had such things happen to you, or hear of them from eye-witnesses, to realise the danger.