{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_76250/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_76250","id":"gutenberg_76250","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76250","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Biographies","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","Missions -- Uganda","Negrillos","Uganda -- Description and travel"],"text":"ON THE BORDERS OF PIGMY LAND\n\n[Illustration: _Yours heartily_\n\n_Ruth B. Fisher_]\n\n\n\n\n                              ON THE BORDERS\n                              OF PIGMY LAND\n\n                                    BY\n                              RUTH B. FISHER\n                             (_n\u00e9e_ HURDITCH)\n\n                       NEW YORK, CHICAGO, TORONTO:\n                        FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY\n                                   1905\n\n                       R. W. SIMPSON AND CO., LTD.,\n                                PRINTERS,\n                           RICHMOND AND LONDON.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nTo none of her many friends in England and Ireland does the writer\nof this book, whether as Miss Ruth Hurditch or Mrs. Fisher, need any\nintroduction; but I gladly accept the opportunity offered to me of\ncommending her graphic story of Mission life and work to a still wider\ncircle, including the American Christian public, among whom we are\nassured the work will find ready circulation.\n\nNo one can read it and not be impressed by the evidence with which\nit abounds that the same Gospel which conquered Europe, civilized or\nbarbarous, in ages past is as potent to-day to transform the most\ndegraded and dormant races into peoples of quick intelligence and\nspiritual consciousness, and has given them in a marvellously short\ntime a measure of self-respect, a sense of the dignity of labour, and a\ndevotion to the welfare of others, not always found in Christian lands\nor even Churches of ancient fame. At a time when the jaded faith of\nmany at home is giving way before the incessant undermining of the old\nfoundations, and when we are invited to recast the \u201cdetails\u201d of the\nGospel, it is no small thing that the Bible is seen to be making new\nhistory again, and giving fresh evidences of its divine vitality. The\nMission Field is paying back its debt to the Church at home. Africa,\nemerging from the night of ages, is bringing her treasures of grace to\nmake up the \u201cfulness of the Gentiles.\u201d The pigmies themselves are worthy\nof a better lot than to be carried off by a traveller and be made a show\nfor the sordid curiosity of holiday crowds.\n\nThere are other reasons also why we welcome Mrs. Fisher\u2019s journals. She\nhas drawn with her pen pictures of the country and people as lifelike as\nthe excellent photographs which adorn the book. She has enabled us to\nshare her adventures without the discomforts. The tropical storms and\nglaring sunshine, the swamps of Semliki, and the snow peaks of Ruwenzori,\nthe camps and caravans, the dispensary and the school, the good King and\nthe gentle Queen, the Prime Minister and poor Blasiyo the pigmy are all\nas real to us as though we had seen them and known them ourselves.\n\nMrs. Fisher has shown us how a devoted couple whose hearts are filled\nwith a longing to win souls for the Saviour can face dangers, and cut\nthemselves off from the common comforts of home, not only with patience\nbut with cheerfulness. No one will feel the playfulness and the sense of\nhumour with which she often describes the most trying situations to be\ninconsistent with the more serious purpose of her Missionary life, or to\nunfit her for the gracious ministry of comforting the sorrowful, teaching\nthe ignorant, and healing the sick, in which she has been engaged.\n\nIf each reader of these pages will let them raise before the conscience\nsuch questions as these, \u201cWhat have _I_ done, and what can _I_ do to help\nsuch blessed work\u201d or \u201cWhy should _I_ not follow in such steps myself,\u201d\nand if such questions be honestly answered as in the presence of the\nLord, I cannot doubt that results still more wonderful than those which\nthis book describes will find a record in the near future,\u2014that may be\neven the Coming of the Lord.\n\nMay the Holy Spirit moving in many lives bring this to pass.\n\n                                                        H. E. FOX,\n                                                       _Hon. Sec., C.M.S._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAPTER.                                            PAGE.\n\n      I. A JOURNEY ON THE UGANDA RAILROAD FOUR YEARS AGO   1\n\n     II. ON LAND AND LAKE                                 11\n\n    III. MENGO, UGANDA                                    22\n\n     IV. TORO, THE LAND OF THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON      31\n\n      V. THE COUNTRY                                      41\n\n     VI. HOME LIFE                                        50\n\n    VII. ROYAL LIFE                                       59\n\n   VIII. THE WOMEN OF TORO                                69\n\n     IX. CHILD LIFE                                       79\n\n      X. RELIGION                                         84\n\n     XI. LANGUAGE                                         92\n\n    XII. FESTIVITIES IN TORO                              97\n\n   XIII. TRAMP I. TO THE ALBERT EDWARD LAKE              106\n\n    XIV. TRAMP II. HOLIDAYS                              119\n\n     XV. TRAMP III. TRAMP THROUGH THE FOUR KINGDOMS OF\n           THE PROTECTORATE                              128\n\n    XVI. TRAMP IV. TOWARDS THE PIGMIES                   151\n\n   XVII. IN DARKEST AFRICA. THE PIGMIES (BATWA) AND\n           THEIR (BAMBUBA) NEIGHBOURS                    161\n\n  XVIII. A CLIMB TO THE SNOWS                            173\n\n    XIX. MISSIONARY WORK                                 188\n\n     XX. MEDICAL WORK                                    199\n\n    XXI. SCHOLASTIC WORK                                 211\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    A GROUP OF BAGANDA.\n\n    A GROUP OF MASAIS.\n\n    A GROUP OF PIGMY WOMEN.\n\n    A MUBIRA LADY: AN AFTERNOON CALLER.\n\n    A NANDI FAMILY.\n\n    A NATIVE OF BALEGA: THE FIRST TO BE BAPTISED OF HIS RACE.\n\n    A PEEP AT THE SNOWS.\n\n    APOLO KIVEBULAYA.\n\n    A SCHOOL IN TORO.\n\n    A VIADUCT ON THE UGANDA RAILROAD.\n\n    BACK FROM THE SNOWS: BAKONJO PORTERS.\n\n    BLASIYO: FIRST BAPTISED PIGMY.\n\n    CROSSING THE MULUKU RIVER.\n\n    KICUCEI CAMP.\n\n    KING DANDI KASAGAMA OF TORO AND HIS CHIEFS.\n\n    MULUKU GLACIER.\n\n    NEW CHURCH, KABAROLE TORO.\n\n    OUR HOME IN TORO.\n\n    PORT OF MOMBASA.\n\n    SNOW PEAKS.\n\n    STIFF CLIMBING: A CLIMB TO THE SNOWS.\n\n    TABALA, CHIEF OF MBOGA, AND SUITE.\n\n    THE ALBERT EDWARD LAKE.\n\n    THE BA-AMBAS: NEAREST NEIGHBOURS TO THE PIGMIES.\n\n    THE BAHUKU: CANNIBAL RACE.\n\n    THE BAKONJO AT HOME.\n\n    THE BATORO AT HOME.\n\n    THE FOUR PIGMIES AT KABAROLE.\n\n    THE KIDONG ESCARPMENT.\n\n    THE MARKET PLACE.\n\n    THE NEW BOAT ON VICTORIA NYANZA.\n\n    THE SEMLIKI RIVER.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nA Journey on the Uganda Railroad Four Years Ago\n\n\nIt was in the beginning of the year 1900 that a British India steamer\ncast anchor and set down on African soil a party of seven missionaries\nbound for distant Uganda. Six of that number might be termed \u201cfreshers,\u201d\nfor they were complete strangers to the \u201cdark continent,\u201d and absolutely\nuninitiated in the art of African travelling. It is a little difficult\nto define the feelings of a new arrival who has before him or her the\nprospect of life and work in that country. The memories of magnificent\nlives laid down for its people fill the heart with an intensely solemn\nsense of responsibility and dignity; records of travel and adventure\nkindle a love of daring, and a desire for opportunities of heroism; while\nthe meagre knowledge that exists on the interior districts breaks the\nimagination of the traveller away from its leading strings.\n\nThe port of British East Africa\u2014the Island of Mombasa\u2014is a typical\nforeign mercantile coast town, with its medley of craft, ships, yachts,\ntugs, boats and canoes manned by seamen of various nationalities,\npushing, hustling and screaming in all the tongues of Babel. The\nhandsome old Arab fortress that stands on its jagged rocky prominence as\na sentinel at the entrance of the harbour, takes one back to the time\nbefore the port was taken over by the British, and when it was used by\nthose who had carried on the terrible slave traffic in the interior. A\nlittle to the left is to be seen the British Consulate with its Union\nJack fluttering from the mast as the emblem of liberty and justice to all\nwho come under its jurisdiction.\n\nAs we stepped from the ship\u2019s deck on to the landing-stage the sun felt\ndistinctly African. The dazzling white and somewhat congested streets\nseemed to singe our very boot leather. It was a relief to have pointed\nout a strip of bright green mainland which lay at the extreme end of a\nsheltered bay, as the place where hospitality would be offered me and two\nothers of our party of seven, while preparations were being made for our\njourney up country. A short row brought us to this mission station of\nthe Church Missionary Society\u2014Freretown\u2014the situation of which is very\npleasing; in front stretches the transparent blue bay, beyond to the\nright the white minarets and red tiled roofs of Mombasa, and all around\ndense foliage\u2014mango and banana trees, creepers and shrubs and flowers in\ntangled confusion. A warm English welcome awaited us from our missionary\nfriends there who were domiciled in a solid two-storied brick house.\n\nThe guest room delegated to me was evidently an afterthought, as it was\nconstructed of corrugated iron with plaited grass stretched across for a\nceiling. The room opened out on a broad balcony, and as it is the custom\nto leave open the doors at night to catch the least suspicion of a breeze\nthat might blow in across the bay, the bats and rats made free use of\nmy room until daybreak. The first night I found the rats had shewed\nan appreciative appetite for Cadbury\u2019s chocolate, for they completely\nfinished off my half-pound tin which had been tusselled for at a chess\ntournament on board ship.\n\n[Illustration: PORT OF MOMBASA.]\n\nThe terrible famine up country had brought many half-starved folk to the\ncoast. Bishop Peel had sent down some 30 to 40 girls and boys from the\nWanika tribe to be clothed, fed, and cared for at the mission dormitory.\nStarvation had played frightful havoc with them. One wee babe of about\ntwo years, all skin and bone, had had her hands held in the fire by her\nmother because hunger had driven her to steal a banana. Her tiny fingers\nwere twisted back and much distorted, some joints having entirely gone.\nOther children had no toes, these having been literally eaten away by\nthe little insects known as jiggers, which are very numerous inland, and\ntrouble Europeans as well as natives.\n\nOn Sunday we went to morning service in the splendid brick native church.\nAs it was conducted in the Swahili language we could only follow in\nsilence the order of the liturgy. The church, holding about 500 people,\nwas almost full. Colours were very pronounced among the women. The girls\nwere dressed in white gowns with red handkerchiefs round the head;\nbut the elder women adopted the most remarkable hues: orange-coloured\nsashes and violet head gear were the most conspicuous. They attended\nvery devoutly, and as I knelt at the Communion rails with a native\nwoman on either side, that text appealed to me with a new power \u201cOther\nsheep I have ... and there shall be one fold and one Shepherd.\u201d In the\nafternoon I delivered my first message to Africans. I had been asked to\nspeak through interpretation to a class of women; it was not easy to\nstand up before one\u2019s first audience of dusky faces and to try and adapt\nthe message to their minds\u2014an unexplored land as yet to me\u2014to choose\ncarefully words which would lend themselves to interpretation and to\nrecollect the point stopped at between the sentences.\n\nThe morning after our arrival we all met in the office of the Church\nMissionary Society\u2019s agency. Before us were arrayed a dozen Swahili lads\nwho were coming up country with us to act as our personal attendants.\nEach of us was to be allowed the sole service of one, the half of\nanother, and a quarter of another; that is, one boy was to act as\nhousemaid, two of us would share a cook, and four a cook\u2019s mate. Minute\ninstructions were given us as to travelling arrangements, which resulted\nin, for one thing, the re-adjusting of every one of our loads that\nweighed anything over 65lbs. It let me in for some days of arduous\nlabour. If it had not been for my newly acquired \u201chousemaid\u201d Richard,\nwho had attached himself to me after that morning in the office, the\nunpacking and re-packing would have proved an almost hopeless task\nin such melting temperature. The last load nailed down contained a\nheterogeneous collection of groceries, Monkey Brand soap, photos, a\nsaucepan, and a few garments, all of which had been taken out of loads\nof overweight. Quite unexpectedly we heard that our start up country was\nto be made on the fifth day after our arrival at the coast. A breakdown\nwas hinted at as being likely to occur on the railroad on account of the\nheavy rains that had fallen. Apart from this we were told that the train\nwould accomplish the 364 miles of its journey in one day and night. At\nrailhead our caravan of porters was awaiting us, as also the two donkeys\nand two jinrickshas, which would prove essential in case of sickness on\nthe road. We speedily fixed our bicycles up on hearing of the immediate\nstart to be made, which seemed to make us all desperately impatient to be\nspinning along the African roads to Uganda.\n\nOn February 23rd we left Mombasa. A large party of missionaries met at\nFreretown Church at eight o\u2019clock for united Communion. Then we hurried\ndown to the shore where a boat awaited us to take us across to Port\nMombasa. After getting together all handbags and other small baggage we\nwere packed away in a ghari\u2014a tiny truck for four persons, with shade,\nrun on rails along the street. A curious party we looked; three gharis\nleft the town, boxes, bags and rugs heaped up in a pile, a few natives\nscattered about here and there among us, and boys pushing behind.\nThese vehicles simply fly along when going downhill; one box toppled\nover in one of these wild escapades, and the whole contents burst out\nand were scattered about on the road. Then a derailment of one ghari\nnecessitated the passengers dismounting, and the cars that followed in\nthe wake being carried round the obstructing car. The terminus of the\nrailway is at Kilindini, which lies about two miles outside Mombasa. At\nthe station a strange scene confronted us. People from various countries\nwere rushing about in a state of great excitement, all struggling to\ncrowd into the few compartments allotted to fourth class passengers. They\nwere so jammed together that one could only expect to see the carriages\nburst apart with the pressure from inside. Our compartments were ever so\nmuch better than I had expected; two had been reserved for our party of\nseven. Perhaps some of us were a little disappointed that there was no\n\u201croughing it,\u201d but we tried to console each other with the thought that\nthere might be a breakdown on the line. Our feelings can be imagined\nwhen the train whizzed away and kept up a most respectable speed, in\nfact, behaved itself like a civilized being. We had armed ourselves with\nplenty of provisions, but found that good meals had been prepared for us\nat various long halting stations on the route. Wanting to lighten our\nsupplies, however, afternoon tea was suggested, and as passengers could\nwalk from one compartment to another by means of an outside foot-board,\neven though the train was running, we invited all the members of our\nparty in to a social tea. My canteen was produced and efforts were made\nto boil the water, but the train was shaking so unreasonably that the\nsmall kettle needed to be constantly replenished during the boiling. We\nhad to warn our guests to avoid the streams of water that were running\ndown the carriage from the kettle spout, but the last arrival made a\ndreadful mistake by sitting on the top of the teapot just as the tea was\nmade. This was not discovered until the whole contents were upset and the\noffender realized a scalding sensation.\n\nThe first day on the Uganda railroad was certainly not the most\nenjoyable; the heat was stifling and the dust so obtrusive that in spite\nof having the windows closed, in less than an hour everything had assumed\na brownish-red appearance; the carriage cushions, our clothing, hair, and\neyes were full of it, and if one did venture to open the lips to pass a\nremark, a mouth-wash was necessary. Mile after mile of country was passed\nwhere the grass was entirely burnt up, and almost all trees and shrubs\ndried and bleached. The land was in the grip of famine, whose hand of\ndeath had touched all nature. Some of its last victims dragged their\nexhausted limbs to the banks of the railroad as the train passed through\ntheir land of hunger. Poor wee children, their sharp bones standing out\nin a most ghastly manner, looked like skeletons moving. We gave them food\nwhich they voraciously seized, but alas, many had got beyond the power of\neating.\n\nOur first halting place was Voi, which we reached at seven p.m., after\na run of eight hours. As the train was not leaving again till eleven\no\u2019clock we were allowed time for a short rest after dining at the station\nbungalow. Native couches of woven grass stretched over wooden frames\nwere given to us, but the need of mosquito nets and blankets drove all\nideas of sleep away. The next morning we found the scenery had entirely\nchanged; vast stretches of plain and gently undulating country extended\nfor miles on either side. This district, known as the Athi plain, is\nthickly populated with all sorts of wild animals. There were scores of\nantelopes, zebras, and ostriches. The tracks of lions were pointed out to\nus, but these are the only animals that apparently do not venture near\nthe trains in broad daylight.\n\nNairobi, which has been named the \u201ctin-town\u201d on account of all the\nbuildings being composed of corrugated zinc, is quite an important place.\nIt is one of the headquarters and workshops of the railway company, and\na large and rapidly increasing European, Indian, and Arab population has\nsettled here. From this point we had to take up our porters, and this was\nnot an easy matter. Instead of the 300 or so required, only about 150\nwere procurable to carry all our loads of food supplies, clothing and\nhousehold requisites for the road and our destination, besides various\nother boxes and literature for missionaries and mission work in Uganda.\n\nAfter leaving Nairobi another complete contrast opened out before us.\nDense thickets, forests and jungle covered hill and dale, without a\nsign of human life. Truly the world seemed here as in infancy, and the\nrailway a harsh discord of civilization. It is a rest to the mind and\nsoul to pass through these world\u2019s natural parks; the deep long silence,\nunreached by man\u2019s babble, carries in its air a breeze from Home and\none\u2019s whole inward being rises on the wing to its God. I wondered why\nsuch miles and miles of uninhabited land existed when \u201cHe created it\nnot in vain, He formed it to be inhabited.\u201d Was it that He might give\nus \u201cthe treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places\u201d which\nGod deposits in regions where, untrammelled by the footprints (not the\nresults) of sin the Shekinah dwells revealed in such natural splendour?\n\nOn Sunday at two p.m., we found ourselves at railhead. The train before\nours had been derailed several times on account of the heavy rains\nwashing down the new embankments, but as trains only run once a week,\nrepairs had been temporarily completed, so we finished our journey\nwithout a single mishap.\n\nI wish you could have seen our plight as we arrived. To begin with, even\nin the finest weather the country would always appear somewhat dreary;\nnature has not behaved very liberally. The train drew up abruptly, not\nbecause of its having reached a station, but there was no more line\non which to run. The only buildings were a few tents and iron sheds,\nthe property of the six Europeans and score of Indians employed on the\nconstruction of the railway. The whole country was under water, and the\nrains were sweeping down in a deluge. Out of the waters appeared our\ntwo jinrickshas and a few boxes, and these indicated the spot where we\nwere to camp. Our first inclination was to remain in the train, but as\nthat had to return at once, we waded out and about, and did not quite\nknow what to do next. Here the Europeans came nobly to our assistance\nand offered the ladies shelter in a tent called the post-office. It\nis remarkable what a lot it takes to make you depressed in Africa. In\nEngland I believe most of us would have felt rather despondent, but none\nof us confessed to those feelings. After a cup of tea, with condensed\nmilk, had warmed us up, we gave a right good British cheer as a tapping\nat the telegraph wires in our tea room told us of a splendid British\nvictory at the seat of war.\n\nTowards evening the rain ceased and as the ground was well digged round\nwith trenches the water quickly drained off, so our tents were unpacked\nand erected. The railway officials kindly supplied us with a number of\nsolid planks, which formed a firm flooring over the mud.\n\nThe tents looked so warm and bright in the midst of such grey\nsurroundings. Camping out was quite a new experience to most of us and we\nimmensely enjoyed moving in to our new quarters. When we had got straight\nthe whole party came together in our tent, squeezed round the tiny table,\nand we had a thanksgiving service. Through the goodness of God, things\nhad marvellously adjusted themselves, considering the short time and the\nswamped condition of the country. We all sang the _Te Deum_ till our\nlittle tent rang with voices.\n\n[Illustration: THE KIDONG ESCARPMENT.\n\n_Photo by W. D. Young, Mombasa._]\n\nAs we joined in the general thanksgiving and prayers I can truly say\nthat no more heartfelt praise ascended into the courts of Heaven from\nany temple that Sunday evening, than from our little tabernacle in the\nwilderness.\n\nOutside, darkness reigned, except for the porters\u2019 fires, burning in\nevery direction, with the black figures squatting round, which gave the\nwhole scene a weird and fantastic appearance.\n\nThe next morning all our loads were hauled out for inspection, and owing\nto the lack of porters we were obliged to choose out such as would be\nrequired for more immediate use; the remaining boxes had to be stacked\nin a rather too well ventilated shed to await reinforcements of porters.\nThis particular district was in rather a disturbed condition. The day\nbefore we had arrived some natives fired upon a European and killed\nhim; in consequence a small detachment of soldiers had been sent out to\nsee into matters and had shot two natives. We were warned at night to\nhave our camp carefully guarded by askaris,[1] as thieves were about\nin addition to any unfriendly folk who might be prowling round. So a\nfire was lit just outside our tents, and sentries stationed at close\ndistances. They accosted every passer-by in angry tones, and those who\ndid not use the password \u201cfriend\u201d stood a very poor chance of getting off.\n\nAs we stood round the log-fire at evening, the thunder and lightning\nroared and flashed; and then down came the rain and pelted hard all\nnight. One of the tents was quite flooded; the bed and furniture were\nrescued and the occupant moved into another\u2019s tent pitched on slightly\nhigher ground. We had arrived in the rainy season, and were told that\nwe must not be surprised if we got a daily soaking. It rather damped\none\u2019s enthusiasm for camping out and cycling. This district is called\nthe Kidong Escarpment, and is a ledge of land that suddenly drops some\n500 feet. The railway takes a circuitous route to avoid this drop,\nbut at that time a most elaborate temporary line had been laid down\nthe precipitous bank, the cars being worked by cables. One had here\nan example of the almost insurmountable difficulties that faced the\nengineers of the Uganda railway, difficulties emphasised by the fact\nthat all material required had to be imported from India or England.\nViaducts, some of which are of gigantic height, frequently connect rock\nto rock, and along these the train has cautiously to pass. At other times\nthe brave little locomotive pants and gasps as it toils along with its\nburden; now and again it stops to gain breath, then it goes on again,\nclimbing, ever climbing, till it has reached an altitude of 7,000 feet.\n\nAfter the burning heat of the dusty plains, along which the train rushes\nwith hysterical speed, filling the traveller with misgivings and treating\nhim to plenty of rough shakings, how welcome is the cold frosty air of\nthese African Highlands, which have proved no barrier to the Uganda\nrailroad.\n\n[Illustration: A VIADUCT ON THE UGANDA RAILROAD.\n\n_Photo by W. D. Young, Mombasa._]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nOn Land and Lake\n\n\nWe certainly set off for our first so-called tramp most professionally\nfitted out, but this only lasted for one day. The marching Norfolk dress\nwas soon discarded for a loose blouse; the water bottle, which did give\none rather a heroic aspect, was quietly given over to the \u201cboy\u201d; that\nwonderful compendium of knife, corkscrew, file, button hook, and so\nforth, which includes everything that you never want and nothing that you\ndo, was likewise voted too heavy; even the puggaree that had offered a\nsuggestion of trimming to the very unbecoming bald topee, was thrown out,\nand any consideration for personal appearance that might have secretly\nlurked within was superseded by the one desire for comfort, as we steamed\nalong on our bicycles over good, bad, and indifferent roads, the sun\nbeating down upon us all the time.\n\nLake Naivasha seemed scarcely large enough to satisfy our inordinate\nthirst as we pulled up; we were not a bit polite when tea was generously\ndoled out to us by the Europeans stationed there, for none of us refused\na fourth and fifth cup, even when we saw the supply was running short.\nI got very behindhand in my journal while on the road. Never had I been\nsuccessful in keeping one for longer than a week; on the seventh day it\nhad become so intolerably dull that Dryasdust must even have yawned. Of\ncourse, Africa supplies you with plenty of material, but the methodical\nmind and will power are somehow wanting. Let me tell you why. At 4.0\na.m. daily one wakes up with a start, for as the sun does not rise till\n6.0, night still seems to rest heavily on the land and on one\u2019s eyelids.\nBut the caravan leader is beating a drum, accompanying it with a shrill\nfalsetto call to rise; and if one dares to stay rubbing the sleep out of\nthe eyes, the porters are fumbling away at the tent ropes, and before\nthere is time to complete one\u2019s toilette, the whole tent flops down like\na closed umbrella. A truly undignified exit is made by a dishevelled\nfigure, and one turns up while breakfast is being served round the camp\nfire on tin crockery.\n\nIn the dusk we push off; a real expert rider you must be to dodge in and\nout of the porters who are already filing along on the narrow path, and\nhave a happy knack of swinging round at the sound of the bicycle bell\njust as you pass\u2014the tent-pole carrier was a veritable man-trap, and\nmore than once pitched machine and rider into the ditch. I am sure I\nshall never complain again of English or even Scotch roads; the ridges\nwe have ridden over (often ending in a swamp) have helped to strengthen\none\u2019s nerves and powers of balance. We generally reach camp before our\nporters, and then seek out some shelter till our tents arrive. It is a\nquaint sight to watch the long line of the caravan coming in; the men\nbecome very excited at sight of the halting place, and as the first man\nwho carries a drum beats it with all his might, swinging a zebra tail\nround and round his head, the men all break into song and a slow dance,\nwhich gradually increases in volume and speed until the 65lb. box on the\nhead is quite forgotten, the body springs about in mid-air, and finally\nthrows itself down with a shout of ecstasy and an eloquent outburst of\nself-praise and congratulation.\n\n[Illustration: A GROUP OF MASAIS.\n\n_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]\n\nWhen tents have been pitched and bodily restoratives have been applied\nin the form of cool baths, a good meal and a sleep, the only possible\nhour for journalling has come. But who could resist the desire to peep\noutside the tent door, and then into the new and fascinating features of\nfolk, animals, birds, and country that surround the colony of tents? So\nmy pen remained idle for many days on the road, and as we were constantly\ngoing forward, it was not easy to go back and pick up broken threads.\n\nThe day from Lake Nakuro must have a few lines to itself. The usual 15\nmiles\u2019 journey had appeared exceptionally short on account of the good\nroads, and there being no houses or even signboard to tell you \u201cthis is\ncamp,\u201d we rode past it unconsciously. While resting mid-day on the banks\nof a shady nook for a cup of tea and biscuits, two bicycles unfortunately\nfell over on my gear case and completely smashed it up. This made riding\na little difficult for the remainder of the day, as the skirt would keep\ncatching in the chain, and the gear-case strapped across the handle-bars\ndid not allow much knee space. Very hot, dusty, hungry, and tired at 3.30\np.m., we came across a small Indian encampment which had journeyed up\ncountry for railway survey with a large number of pack mules. The campers\ntold us we had come 34 miles. This rather alarmed us, for we wondered how\nour porters could cover that distance. It was a ghastly spot. The ground\nwas strewn with numbers of bleached skulls and bones, which we afterwards\nlearned were part of an Indian troop that some time previously had\ntravelled down country under Mr. Grant, and had died for want of water.\n\nAfter waiting some time scouts were sent out to search for our men,\nbut as night fell they returned with the tidings that our caravan was\ncamped some 15 miles away, and was too exhausted to push on. Having\neaten nothing since 4 o\u2019clock a.m., with the exception of that mid-day\nimpromptu lunch, I must confess that our first consideration was for\nfood. Fortunately one of our party had shot during the day a bustard.\nThis was speedily prepared and cooked in a pot lent us by the Indians. A\nfew biscuits and some tea still remained in our canteen, and so sitting\nround an ember fire inside the stockade constructed for the mules as\nprotection from the lions, we enjoyed, perhaps as never before, a\nhearty, simple and crude meal, without chairs, spoons, forks, or even\nchop-sticks. We tried to effect further loans, and through the generosity\nof our new friends succeeded in procuring one small tent for the night.\nIt _was_ small, 6 feet square, and we five ladies had to pack into it.\nWe did manage it by strictly adhering to the agreement of sleeping on\none\u2019s side and not attempting to change over. There were no blankets,\nbut certainly none of us felt the need of them! The gentlemen kept guard\nround the watch fires all night, but I think they got in more sleep than\nwe did.\n\nIn case such a thing should ever happen again, the men of our party were\nevidently determined to be prepared, for on the following afternoon we\nsaw them shouldering their guns, and after hearing a few distant sounds\nof shot, two zebras and three antelopes were carried into camp; and\nbefore we had finished admiring and pitying these splendid fallen lords\nof the country, they were carried off and skinned. The next sight we\ncaught of them was in the form of long, gory strips festooned from branch\nto branch of a tree close by. The porters, hawk-like, were standing\nround, as hungry East Enders outside fried fish bars. Perhaps they\ncan be partially excused when we consider the monotonous, unpalatable\nmillet which constitutes their daily diet. At 7 p.m. a drum was beaten,\nand every man presented himself in as famished a condition as he could\nassume. They stood like soldiers waiting to be decorated with the V.C.\nIn a few minutes the tree was quite cleared, and outside each tiny tent\nwas fixed on sticks venison and wild beef roasting over the fires. The\nsounds of revelry had scarcely died away when the morning call drum\nsounded.\n\n[Illustration: THE NEW BOAT ON VICTORIA NYANZA.]\n\nThe people who live in the district through which we had hitherto passed\nare called the Masai tribe, a nomadic folk who travel about from one\nplace to another, according to the pasture the land offers for their\ngoats and sheep. They have distinctly warlike propensities, and a warrior\nchief is often met having a few armed followers, who, like their master,\nsmear their bodies with grease and red earth, only wearing a small strip\nof cloth, or an animal\u2019s skin over the shoulder, and sometimes a few\nfeathers in their matted and oiled hair. The fierce opposition they\nshowed to the pioneer Missionaries is now no longer displayed; in fact\nthey appear somewhat timid and reserved.\n\nThe general physical feature of the land is soft, gently undulating\ncountry. But for the lakes Naivasha and Nakuro, and the River Gilgal,\nthere is a marked scarcity of water. Not until we reached the Eldoma\nRavine did we pass anything worthy of being called a forest. At that\npoint we had risen 7,000 feet above sea level, and exquisite stretches of\ntangled forests of cedars and bamboos afforded a welcome relief after the\ndried up and treeless track we had been accustomed to. Cycling was quite\nimpossible owing to the many trees that had fallen across the road, and\nthe deep ruts made by the ox waggons which had passed along in the wet\nseason; one waggon, carrying along parts of a new boat to be floated on\nthe Victoria Nyanza, was overthrown and broken up by one of these ruts\nthe day we passed through the forest.\n\nIn spite of the weariness that often overcomes one travelling day after\nday under such a fierce sun, how glad I am that the railway had left\nus 300 miles of tramping before we reached the lake! Those who come\nup country now the railroad is completed will never experience the\nfondness, and shall I call it proprietorship, that one seems to feel for\nthe land when each step has involved labour, every little change from\nthe prairie grass and thorn bushes been noticed and welcomed, and each\nnew district and tribe prayed and longed over to be claimed for Christ.\nHow can I describe the scene that stretched before me as I stood on the\nNandi plateau overlooking the tranquil silver lake, the Victoria Nyanza,\nlying 3,000ft. below. The sun was slowly sinking towards the west, and,\nas it did so, drew the attention to the other side, our land of promise,\nUganda. As the distant horizon and sky were flooded with a gentle red and\ngolden light, salvation and victory seemed written in the handwriting of\nGod upon the walls of that country.\n\nTurning round towards camp what a contrast the scene presented. Hundreds\nof natives had congregated together dressed in animals\u2019 skins, and armed\nwith shields and spears, which they were flourishing in the air with\nwild dancing and shrill war song\u2014they were going out to fight with a\nneighbouring tribe. In the morning I had had an undesirable encounter\nwith some of them. Having taken my writing case and pocket Bible to a\nhill a short distance away from where we were encamped to get a view of\nthe wonderful panorama of plain and lake beneath, I had been somewhat\nstartled by a number of men suddenly appearing from what at first were\nquite undistinguishable grass huts. Void of clothing they had painted\ntheir bodies with bright red earth, and had made various designs with\ngrease on their limbs. Their hair was long and twisted into streaks by\nmeans of goat\u2019s fat, and each man carried a spear and shield. Soon a\nsmall crowd had gathered round, and I must confess to a certain feeling\nof uneasiness at the isolation of my position. However, I determined to\nevince no fear and tried to make the best of it. I undid my writing-case\nand showed it to them, and my watch. They literally shrieked with\ndelight and surprise when they saw the hands run round. The gilt edges of\nmy Bible attracted them, so handling it reverently I tried to tell them\nit was God\u2019s Book, and drawing one of the children to me by signs, sought\nto convey to their minds that God loved us. I do not know if they caught\nmy meaning, but I do know that God caught up the prayers that ascended\nfor them.\n\n[Illustration: A NANDI FAMILY.\n\n_Photo by W. D. Young, Mombasa._]\n\nThe same evening a violent storm broke over us. One of our tents was\nliterally washed out, not having had a deep ditch digged round in case of\nemergency.\n\nAfter moving off again and descending very precipitately to the level of\nthe lake, the heavy rains were found to have made marching exceedingly\ndifficult. We had to plough through thick black mud till we reached\nPort Florence, a distance of twenty-one miles. At one point on the road\na stream about thirty yards wide had to be waded, as our porters were\nunavailable for carrying, having all gone on in front. The water in some\nparts was a foot deep, and it was by no means an easy thing getting\nthrough it when there were inches of mud from which the boots very\nreluctantly parted.\n\nNews had reached us that the steamboat _Ruwenzori_ which had been sent\nto meet us and take us across the lake had been wrecked on the way, so\nwe had to put off in an Arab dhow, a sailing boat used for transport\npurposes only, and one that offered no passenger accommodation.\n\nThree thousand square miles! Can you imagine a lake about that size? And\nyet on our maps it is no larger than a boot button. Quiet and peaceful\nas is its normal condition, there are times when its mighty waters are\nlashed into uncomfortable anger, and casting up foaming crests break on\nthe shore with the force and roar of an ocean\u2019s storm. Abundant in its\nresources, it can afford to be generous in its supplies; with prodigality\nit pours its fulness into its offspring, so that distant Egypt subsists\non its benevolence\u2014the Nile.\n\nAlthough only 7 p.m., darkness had already set in as we made our way down\nto the rough landing-stage to be shipped for Uganda. The dhow looked\nuncomfortably small for its crew, seven English passengers, twelve\n\u201cboys,\u201d and all their cargo. It could not get up to the little wooden\npier, so we rowed out in dug-out canoes by the light of a hand lamp. This\ntook time, and it was nearly midnight before everything was on board.\n\nA small portion towards the stem had been reserved to our use for\nsleeping, feeding, and living purposes. One of the ground sheets of the\ntent was fixed up on four insecure poles to form an awning over us.\n\nOur sacks containing camp beds and blankets were placed about to act as\nbolsters as we lay down on the bare boards in the vain hope of sleeping.\nBut they were the most bony bolsters I have ever known, for on whatever\ncorner you took up your position, there was a point of the bedstead\nrunning into you. We were all glad when a sharp breeze sprang up in the\nearly morning, and the sails that had been nodding all night braced\nthemselves together for work.\n\nMid-day we passed a small island which is inhabited by fisher folk. They\ntrap the fish by means of baskets with inverted necks like a safety\nink-pot. Someone suggested pulling into shore in a canoe that was passing\nat the time for the purpose of buying some fish, but the people had\nmisinterpreted our intentions and had armed themselves with spears, and\nwere waiting for us entrenched behind large rocks. So it was decided to\nlunch off tinned sausages that day! Our prospects of landing and enjoying\na change at night from the hard boards of the dhow were shattered by the\ncaptain assuring us that he could not possibly waste such a splendid wind\nas was blowing, but must push on. Accordingly, mattresses and pillows\nwere pulled out and spread on the deck, so that our couch might be a\ntrifle more comfortable than on the preceding night.\n\nThe wind did blow, and the dhow pitched to and fro like the tub of\nDiogenes. He must have been a better sailor than most of us were, else he\ncould never have steered his craft.\n\nIt was wonderful how the food was cooked. The Swahili boys are prodigies,\nand can somehow manage under any condition. Finding a large iron tray\nthey built up their wood fires on it in the bow of the boat and with the\nusual three stones they boiled their kettle, saucepan or other kitchen\nrequisites.\n\nThe scenery round the shores of the lake is exceedingly pretty. The land\ngently slopes upward. Here and there a belt of forest stretches down to\nthe water\u2019s edge; the grass huts huddled together in small communities\njust appear peeping out from the creeks and woods, and birds of gorgeous\ncolours fly about or build their nests in the branches overhanging the\nwater\u2019s edge.\n\nOn the third day of our trip we were becalmed, and it was decided to\nland on an island for the night so that we might get a complete change\nof toilet and rest. There was no canoe at hand to take us ashore, so a\nraft was constructed of poles and two large Masai hide shields which had\nbeen given me up country. We crossed over, two by two, carefully balanced\nin the centre of the raft, with shoes and stockings in our hands. The\nmen managed to get a few things across, but the raft would not bear the\nweight of the tents. A ground sheet was once more utilized by tying it\nto branches of trees to form a covering over our camp and beds at night.\nLooking through the mosquito net I saw the stars peeping down, and the\nfireflies and glow worms lighting up the air and shrubs, and heard the\ncroaking of the frogs and the night bird cooing in the trees. It seemed\nlike a page out of childhood\u2019s fairy book.\n\nThere was no chance of getting off in the morning, and we made a tour\nof the island. It chanced to be the one on which the _Ruwenzori_ had\nbeen wrecked. The captain and his native crew had succeeded in getting\nsafely to land, but were in a sad plight without shoes and socks and\nprovisions. It was most fortunate our party happened to have lighted\non that particular island, and so were able to replenish the meagre\nstores of these shipwrecked mariners. The natives flocked together when\nthey heard of the arrival of white men, and begged them to shoot the\nhippopotami that had been destroying their cultivation. They showed us\nround their village, in the centre of which was their devil temple. The\nhead priest alone was allowed to enter. Round the courtyard were placed\nflat and upright stone slabs; these were the seats of the priests, who\nsat round in a semi-circle when their head priest was inside invoking the\nevil spirit. The only one in our party who knew their language spoke to\nthem, and they all united in asking that teachers might be sent to them\nto instruct them in these \u201cgood words.\u201d Now there is no need to send to\nthem, for since then the island has been depopulated by the sleeping\nsickness. Not one inhabitant remains\u2014and they died with their request\nunanswered!\n\nOn the morning of the eighth day we were all eagerly examining the\nfringe of land lying straight ahead. The opera glasses spied out a few\ndark figures moving about close to the landing stage. In imagination\nand Pears\u2019 Soap advertisements I had often seen the picture, the blue,\ntransparent water, a stretch of sandy shore\u2014the background of banana\ntrees and palms, a few grass huts, and a dark-skinned figure standing\nout in bold relief with the broad smile displaying a row of white teeth.\n\u201cOtyano Munange\u201d (How do you do, my friend?) and a prolonged exchange of\ngrunts greeted us as we stepped from the dhow on to the shores of Port\nMunyonyo.\n\nDuring the few minutes of waiting for our boxes to be unloaded I moved\ntoward a little hut from which the sound of voices was coming. Peeping\nin at the low doorway, I saw a man dressed in white linen (evidently the\nhead of the household). He was sitting, reading aloud to a group of men\nand women gathered round him. The Book was the Gospel of St. John.\n\nSurely this was Uganda, where the people who sat in darkness have seen\na great light. It is wonderful what the Bible has done for them. Its\ninfluence penetrates the entire country, and its very utterances are the\nlanguage of the people. Its expressions of greeting and farewell are\nused, and with reverence.\n\nHow our bicycles did run away with us over those seven miles to Mengo.\nAfter mounting them, we were followed by numbers of natives, and from\nevery direction they came out of their shambas to greet us, falling down\non their knees and saying, \u201cYou are our prayers, thank you.\u201d\n\nOn hearing of our arrival, our missionary friends had all started off\nto greet us. They described it as a little bit of England to see seven\ncyclists coming along with an impress of home which the five weeks\u2019\nknocking about had not quite obliterated. The first one to meet us must\nhave been guilty of scorching, as he was far ahead of the others, and\nhe was determined to give us a real taste of Uganda right away, for he\nproduced from his pocket some bananas (shall I own it, rather squashy)\nwrapped up in a newspaper; they were good!\n\nNext came along a mule, bearing towards us Bishop Tucker, who had come\nout to welcome his new recruits. I do not remember quite distinctly\nthe other faces, for we were literally hemmed in by scores of excited\nnatives, hustling, bustling, clapping, and chattering, seizing our hands\nand thanking us for having come so far to them, while tears of gratitude\nglistened on some of their splendid, intelligent, brown faces.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nMengo, Uganda\n\n\nJudging from the view obtained from this, the native capital of Uganda,\nMengo, the country seems composed of hills. On one of these stands the\ncathedral and missionaries\u2019 houses, and the splendid hospital, then just\nready to be opened (but since burnt down), and holding fifty to sixty\nbeds. The Roman Catholic Mission commands another hill, while on the\nhighest is the King\u2019s palace. The head man of the district builds at\nthe top of each hill, and his dependents live round, their site being\ndetermined by their social position. The whole district is densely\npopulated, but this is difficult at first to see, as the huts harmonize\nwith the vegetation around, or are hidden by the large banana plantations\nthat surround each dwelling. What strikes a new arrival are the very\nwide, well-made roads that have been cut in various directions, quite a\nnovel feature for Africa.\n\nLiving out here is necessarily very simple. The English houses then\nresembled bungalows constructed of poles and light, long reeds sewn\ntogether by means of a black fibre: two layers formed the walls, with\ndried leaves stuffed between, the roof being thatched with grass. The\nfloors were beaten earth, with skins or grass mats thrown down in\nplace of carpets. There were only outside doors, pieces of terra cotta\ncoloured bark cloth being hung as curtains between the inside doorways.\nThe apertures made in the walls for windows were closed in at night\nby shutters of sewn reeds. The rooms looked distinctly rural, with\nbookshelves, wardrobes, and cabinets made with packing cases of uniform\nsize stacked one upon another. A few native curios and chairs placed\nabout were rather more useful than ornamental.\n\n[Illustration: A GROUP OF BAGANDA.\n\n_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]\n\nEach missionary\u2019s house was fitted up with a spare room, but visitors\nwere expected to bring their own furniture and attendants, even though it\nmight be but a Saturday till Monday visit. If you were not a bon\u00e2-fide\nfresh arrival you had to bring your cow as well. The European\u2019s staff of\ndomestics consists generally of small boys varying from eight to thirteen\nyears of age. These cook, wait, clean up, wash, in fact will do anything\nyou want them to do and a great deal more besides. As we passed the\nlittle cook shed one evening the chef was rubbing up the roast chicken\nwith his grimy little hands to give the final touch before sending it to\ntable. The ladies employ female labour, and the girls range from three\nto fifteen years of age, after which they marry. One small thing of five\nyears was \u201cparlourmaid\u201d to their household at the time of our arrival.\nAt afternoon tea she strolled into the room with the teapot balanced on\nher head; in the same exalted position were the vegetables brought in at\ndinner served up in a large plaited basket shaped like a Japanese hat,\nwith leaves placed under the unsweetened cooked bananas or potatoes.\n\nThe kitchen, like the servants\u2019 quarters, is built apart from the\nhouses. There are no ranges or stoves. The cooking-pot, saucepan,\nkettle, or frying-pan sits on three bricks or large stones between which\nthe firewood is rammed. The cooking-pots make successful ovens for\nbread-making if a tray of fire is placed on the top.\n\nThe day after our arrival being Sunday we had an early opportunity\nof witnessing a little of what Christianity has done for Uganda. The\nunreached tribes we had passed through in their nakedness and savagery,\npropitiating demons, and offering human sacrifices, are what these\npeople were before the Gospel reached them. Now, as the huge church\ndrum, echoing from hill to hill, called to morning prayer, a continual\nstream of people was seen pouring into the large \u201cbasket\u201d cathedral. As\nwe entered at 9 a.m. what an impressive sight awaited us! Perhaps the\nfirst thing that attracted one\u2019s attention was the veritable forest of\npoles that supported the roof; but, then, looking down, the eye travelled\nover a sea of black woolly heads\u2014of about two thousand men dressed in\nspotless white linen on one side, and of women draped in the bark cloths,\nso soft and restful to the eye, on the other. There were no chairs or\npews, but each one brought a goat skin or grass kneeling mat. With no\nmuffled, inarticulate voice did they join in the service, but as they all\nunited in the Lord\u2019s Prayer a noise as of thunder sounded throughout the\nbuilding. When the time for reading of the Scriptures had come, there\nwas a general unbandaging of Gospels or Testaments, which their owners\nsecurely bind round in strips of calico to protect them.[2]\n\nIn the afternoon we paid a visit to the young king Daudi Chwa. His palace\nis approached by passing through an endless number of courtyards formed\nby woven cane fencings ten feet high. In some of these are circular\nreed houses for his courtiers and servants; the last one is the royal\nenclosure. Three round buildings stand here, coloured grass plaitings\nover the entrance distinguishing them from others. In one, the audience\nchamber, sat the King, then aged four years.\n\nThere was no furniture in the apartment; fine grass was carefully and\nuniformly laid on the ground, over which mats were placed on a slightly\nelevated reed dais. He was an important-looking little lad; his curious\nget-up made him appear twice his age. In spite of the great heat, a man\u2019s\nEuropean shirt fell in folds to his feet, and over this was an English\ngreasy black morning coat, made to fit a man of abnormal proportions.\nFive women and two chiefs waited upon him. Not a word did he speak, but\nstared uninterruptedly, and when on leaving we had reached the last\ncourtyard, I was peremptorily recalled. It was my velvet collar band he\nwanted to inspect.\n\nThe form of native government is very highly developed and remarkable,\nfor a tribe that had had no contact with the forms of government adopted\nby civilized nations. The feudal system is practically that in vogue\nthroughout the country, which is divided up into shires or districts\nplaced under a chief called the Saza, who has his own sub-chiefs. He\nhas the power of settling trifling local questions, but everything of\nimportance has to be transferred to the King.\n\nThe English Government had recently levied upon the whole Protectorate\na hut tax of 3 rupees yearly. This creates a new demand, and has had a\nsalutary effect on a people whose needs are so few, and these so easily\nsupplied, that they have had little necessity for learning the dignity of\nwork.\n\nTourists could easily spend some days profitably in Mengo, where there is\nmuch of real interest to be seen. I will give my few days of excursion\ntrips, as there is no Baedeker on the subject.\n\nFirst day.\u2014Grand reception by natives.\n\nSecond day.\u2014Visit to Cathedral, Schools, and Industrial Department of the\nChurch Missionary Society, open each day from 8.0 to 4.0. Pay respects to\nHis Majesty Daudi I., King of Uganda.\n\nThird day.\u2014Uganda \u201cPicture Gallery\u201d in the Bishop\u2019s Palace (constructed\nof mud and wattle). Every picture produced by the Bishop\u2019s own brush\nwhile journeying through the country. They were so beautiful and give\nsuch a faithful idea of the country I simply longed to despatch the whole\nlot home.\n\nFourth day.\u2014Three miles\u2019 walk to the ruins of Mackay\u2019s Church and house.\nBanana plantations now extend over his once carefully cultivated garden,\na few scattered bricks (the first and only introduction of bricks up to\nthat time in Mengo) point out the place where the foundation of the great\ninvisible Church of Uganda was laid. As one stood there one almost felt\nsurrounded by that crowd of witnesses of whom the world was not worthy.\nJust to the front is that sacred spot where the first native converts\nwere martyred for their faith.\n\nFifth day.\u2014Visit to the Hospital. I went with the doctor to observe and\ntake notes for future use. The day\u2019s work commenced with a half-hour\u2019s\nservice held in an open outside court. The gate was closed then against\nthose who might come for the medicine without the morning prayers. Some\n150 patients were seeking attention this day, and they were allowed into\nthe tiny consulting room five at a time. They evidently have a good idea\nof anatomy, for they have a word for nearly every bone and gland. Their\nfaith in the white doctor speaks eloquently of the cures he has effected.\nOne man was quite hurt because the surgeon would not take out his liver.\n\nOn the same day can be fitted in a bicycle ride to the native potteries.\nOutside a small hut we found two men squatted moulding the soft clay\nwith their hands; a well rounded flint gave a polish to the pot, while a\nstrand of coarsely plaited grass stamped on the soft clay gave a border\nimpress. A huge wood furnace was burning in an adjoining court into which\nthe vessels were placed and baked. We were so interested in this process\nthat the sun had set before we were aware of it, and our ride home was\nin pitch darkness over the deep rutted roads. I had a nasty fall which\nsuggested that it might be wiser to walk our machines the remainder of\nthe distance. When we reached Mengo sharp pain and swollen ankle told\nof a sprain. This kept me a prisoner for three days. It was rather\nprovidential, for the mail from England came in, and as no letters had\nreached us since leaving the home shores, just ten weeks ago, a very big\nbudget was handed in to me. Only those who have really experienced it can\nenter into the awful home-sickness that sometimes a girl feels on her\nfirst long separation from England. After some amount of tossing about\nand roughing it, to be suddenly carried back by a letter into the peace\nand quiet of the home, and to read all the interesting little natural\nbits which make you feel once again among the home circle, for a minute,\nwhen no one is looking, you may behave like a big baby.\n\nThe destinations of our party of missionaries were soon definitely fixed;\nI was asked to go as one of the first women to Toro, a separate and\nindependent kingdom nearly 200 miles further inland to the north-west of\nUganda. It involves a journey of 12 to 14 days, as the road is rather\ntough and there are no conveyances. The wonderful growth of the work\nthere dates from the conversion of the King Kasagama at the beginning\nof the year 1896, who was the first monarch to be baptized in the whole\nProtectorate. In 1897 he wrote the following letter to the C.M.S.:\u2014\n\n                                             TORO, February 1, 1897.\n\n    To my dear Friends the Elders of the Church in Europe.\n\n    I greet you very much in our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us\n    on the cross to make us children of God. How are you, sirs?\n\n    I am Daudi (David) Kasagama, King of Toro. The reason why I\n    commence to tell you that is because I wish you to know me\n    well.\n\n    God our Father gave me the Kingdom of Toro to reign over for\n    Him, therefore I write to you my brethren to beseech you to\n    remember me and to pray for me every day, all the days.\n\n    I praise my Lord very very much indeed for the words of the\n    Gospels He brought into my country, and you my brothers I\n    thank you for sending Teachers to come here to teach us such\n    beautiful words.\n\n    I therefore tell you that I want very much, God giving me\n    strength, to arrange all the matters of this country for Him\n    only, that all my people may understand that Christ Jesus He is\n    the Saviour of all countries, and that He is the King of all\n    kings. Therefore, sirs, I tell you that I have built a very\n    large Church in my Capital, and we call it \u201cThe Church of St.\n    John.\u201d\n\n    Also that very many people come every day into the Church to\n    learn the \u201cWords of Life,\u201d perhaps 150, also on Sunday they\n    are very many who come to worship God our Father in His holy\n    Church and to praise Him. I also tell you that in the gardens\n    near here we have built six Churches. The people of this place\n    have very great hunger indeed for the \u201cBread of Life,\u201d many\n    die every day while still in their sins because they do not\n    hear the Gospel. The teachers are few and those who wish to\n    read, many. Therefore, sirs, my dear friends, have pity upon\n    my people, in great darkness; they do not know where they are\n    going.\n\n    Also I want to tell you that there are very many heathen\n    nations close to my country\u2014Abakonio, Abamba, Abahoko,\n    Abasagala, Abasongola, Abaega, and many others in darkness.\n    We heard that now in Uganda there are English ladies; but,\n    sirs, here is very great need for ladies to come and teach our\n    ladies. I want very very much that they come.\n\n    Also, my friends, help us every day in your prayers. I want my\n    country to be a strong Lantern that is not put out, in this\n    land of darkness.\n\n    Also I wish to make dear friends in Europe, because we are One\n    in Christ Jesus Our Saviour. Now good-bye, my dear friends. God\n    be with you in all your decisions.\n\n                I am your friend who loves you in Jesus,\n\n                                                     DAUDI KASAGAMA.\n\nHow well I remember the deep impression that request made on me as I\nread it, little realizing at the time that God would send me out in\nanswer to it. Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Lloyd were also located to Toro, and\nMiss Pike, who had arrived in Uganda six months previously.\n\nAs soon as we knew our location we went off to Kampala, the market\nplace and Government station of Mengo, to lay in a stock of oil, wheat,\nmatches, bark cloths; also cowrie shells, beads, and calico, which are\nthe currency of the Toro district. Our purse took the shape of two large\nsacks, each weighing 65lbs., and these needed two men to carry them.\n\nKampala was very different from Namirembe. Swahilis, Indians, Arabs, and\nnatives crowded the narrow, stuffy street called a market place. Open\nbooths extended down either side, and on shelves were displayed various\nnative grains and vegetable produce, while gorgeous coloured prints and\ncalicoes, beads, and brass wire adorned the outfitters\u2019 shops. As we\npassed along, small amused crowds followed us to see the \u201ctall ladies.\u201d\n\nThe law court would have shocked the members of the profession of Fleet\nStreet. It was a barn-like structure built of reeds; there were no\nbenches and witness boxes, the only official item being a coat of arms\nwrought on an enamelled iron plate over the judge\u2019s seat and table.\n\nWe heard there was a nice little white-washed mud house awaiting us in\nToro, but there were no windows or doors. The European missionary already\nworking there promised to make these when we supplied him with wood from\nour packing-cases.\n\nToro was still in its very dark state, but the people were willing and\neager to learn. The Uganda of the present has been the result of years of\nlabour, the cost of noblest lives, the scenes of grandest heroism, the\npatient, untiring, lonely work of such men as Mackay, Pilkington, and\nmany others. Toro appeared to have few physical dangers, but the moral\nand spiritual difficulties were just the same. A fortnight\u2019s journey\nseemed a long distance to the nearest European station, especially to\none straight out from the roar and bustle of London life, the noise and\nrattle of a large family of brothers and sisters.\n\nWe felt very incompetent implements, but remembered the prayers going up\nfor us in England, and believed that they would have power with the great\nMaster-Builder, the Architect of the ages\u2014so that the habitation being\nbuilded together for God in Toro might be \u201call glorious within.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nToro: The Land of the Mountains of the Moon\n\n\nOn Tuesday, April 10th, 1900, the start was made for Toro. Our caravan of\nporters had been sent on before to have our first camp in readiness on\nour arrival.\n\nBishop Tucker, who was coming our way for two days on a visit to an\nout-station, set off on his mule, with Miss Pike mounted on a most\napologetic-looking donkey. The Lloyds and myself arranged our departure\ntwo hours later, as our cycles promised a quicker method of locomotion.\nHaving said the last good-bye to friends, I went away for an hour\u2019s\nquiet to get strengthened for the journey. Taking out my \u201cDaily Light\u201d I\nlooked for its message, which was the promise given to Israel while in\ncaptivity, \u201cThy renown went forth among the heathen for thy beauty, for\nthou art perfect in the majesty (R.V.) that I have put upon thee, saith\nthe Lord.\u201d What a glorious responsibility through the graciousness of God\nto be allowed to proclaim the renown, beauty and majesty of Christ among\nthe heathen.\n\nAt 3.0 three cyclists could have been seen scorching down the hills from\nMengo with a crowd of boys and men as bodyguard, all the twelve miles to\ncamp. Africans seem to be possessed with an extra breathing reservoir,\nfor they can run almost any distance without stopping to regain breath.\nIt was dark or semi-obscure in the small forest opening where we found\nour encampment. Miss Pike was unceremoniously seated on a big box\nswallowing pints of tea! The porters had tried to erect our tent, but had\nnot learned the knack, and we had to creep into flabby folds of canvas.\nIt looked like a native who wants his one daily meal\u2014it sadly needed\ninflating. Oh, dear! How did we manage that night! It became dark so\nsoon, everybody had to fish about with candles among a medley of boxes,\nporters and food. Our Baganda boys were certainly not trained like the\nSwahili attendants who came up with us to Uganda, in the mysteries and\narts of camping out. European equipments were unsolved conundrums to\nthem. Our four youths looked hopelessly vacant, jabbering about round the\ntent, doing nothing but getting into one\u2019s way. When we did sit down to a\npersonally-superintended cooked meal, the \u201cwaiter\u201d knocked the wash-hand\nbasin of water over my pillows, which had to be round a fire all night to\ndry. The \u201cboys\u201d can learn to do things fairly nicely if you have patience\nto allow them plenty of time for an idea to filter through their minds.\nThey wanted an hour for preparing our table at each meal, which was only\nfurnished with the simplest and most limited number of things. Sitting\ndown before the food box they took out every tin and contemplated each\none for some minutes before deciding whether salt was eaten with tea, jam\nwith meat, and so on.\n\nThe next morning at 4.30 we were all astir again, and as soon as our\nbelongings were packed up, were on our way. How I wish I had the power\nof descriptive writing to enable others to peep into one of the many\nexquisite belts of forest that crossed the road at constant intervals.\nThey surpassed any Kew tropical greenhouse. Unlike the tangled disorderly\nforests passed on our way to Uganda, date palms, trees, climbers, flowers\nsuch as orchids, sunflowers, wild pea and tomatoes flourished there in\nperfect life and vigour.\n\nEmerging from the cool shade of these trees, our track passed through\nstretches of papyrus and pampas grasses eight to fifteen feet high. It\nwas almost impossible to see the path of about one foot wide which had\nbecome overgrown and covered by broken tiger grass. Cycling was anything\nbut easy. We had to butt our sun helmets into the long, wet waving grass,\nblindly careering forward. There is absolutely no level ground between\nToro and Uganda, but a succession of hills over the tops of which the\nroad has been cut. The descents, sometimes very steep are dangerous on\naccount of the thick muddy swamps that frequently wind round the bases\nof the hills. The bridges over these swamps often get washed away in\nthe rainy seasons. One almost feels the treacherous malaria, as heat\nwaves sweep heavily along, while being carried through these \u201cSloughs of\nDespond\u201d on the shoulder of one of the strongest porters. I suppose one\nof these was responsible for the heat sickness that I woke up with one\nmorning. A long tiresome march lay ahead, so the hammock was insisted\nupon, and six men, lent by the chief of the village, came as carriers. It\nwas rather ludicrous to watch the sympathy of the natives. I could have\nimagined myself dying; but the shock they sustained when the first little\nbit of decent road was reached! In half-a-minute the awe-struck men stood\ngasping as, calling out to be lowered, the poor, dying \u201cMukyala\u201d (lady)\ncoasted down a tempting hill. They looked quite relieved when they found\nher awaiting the hammock at the foot of the next climb.\n\nIn one camp the chief came to pay us his respects and brought six old men\nwith him and several folks to whom he wanted to show the white ladies,\nnone having passed along that way before. I could do nothing more than\ngreet them with an extenuated string of grunts, but this pleased them\nimmensely. Mr. Lloyd asked if I would let down my hair, as they had\nnever seen anything different from their own cropped, frizzy pates, and\nthe short hair of a few white men. Out came the hairpins, and as the\nhair tumbled down a loud laugh of delight and surprise came from every\nonlooker. A lesson in hairdressing followed, and each twist, turn and pin\nwas watched with lively excitement. A spoonful of salt was given round\nto every visitor before leaving. Their eyes glistened, their hands were\nlifted to their mouths, the tongues protruded, and, oh, the delight of\nthat moment! They smacked their lips and relished it as much as I enjoyed\nsherbet in girlhood\u2019s days. The remaining dainty morsel was tied up in a\npiece of banana leaf.\n\nThe roads proved too much for my poor wheel. Until it could be\nattended to by a London specialist it had to be regarded as a chronic\ndisplacement. The strain on the fork had been too incessant and heavy\nwith only a front rim brake. The ruts, ditches, and obstacles had given\nit a terrible shaking, and finally succeeded in literally tearing the\nfork away from the bar. The remainder of the journey, about 140 miles,\nhad to be covered on foot. Miss Pike was in the same predicament, as the\ndonkey gave in even before the bicycle.\n\nOn the sixth day from Mengo we reached Lwekula and put up at a European\nfort, vacated now, but built and occupied at the last Soudanese rebellion\nwhen the Nubian troops and Mohammedan population were up in arms against\nthe British Government. It is a square fenced-in enclosure with sentinel\nboxes at each corner and a deep, dry moat surrounding it. Two or three\nreed sheds stand inside, one of which we made use of instead of our\ntents, which are intensely hot during the day time. Unfortunately, Mrs.\nLloyd was taken with bad fever as we reached here, and as her temperature\nremained at 104 on the third day a special runner was dispatched to Mengo\nasking Dr. Cook to come out to her. The six following days of waiting\nfor his arrival were anxious times to us all, and we watched by her\nbedside day and night. When he did come the fever refused to yield to\ntreatment. After a fortnight spent thus it was decided that she should\nbe carried back to the nearest European station three days away. Before\nleaving, the doctor had an opportunity of relieving several poor native\nsufferers. One was a tubercular case, which necessitated amputation of\nthe finger. In lieu of an operating theatre the patient was laid on the\nground and given chloroform! We enjoyed a few regular out-patient days of\nhospital life again.\n\nThe knowledge that our two travelling friends must return had come to us\non my birthday, and a new weight seemed added to my quarter of a century\nof life. They had been like brother and sister to me ever since leaving\nEngland, and now it was like going away from everything that connected\none with the old land. Then I turned to my Bible, and Psalm 22 was the\nbirthday portion\u2014\u201cThe Kingdom is the Lord\u2019s\u201d stood out as written in\ngold. I could never get beyond God\u2019s country, God\u2019s territory. It brought\nsuch peace, comfort, protection. No longer was it one person almost alone\nin a big strange land, but a child of a King who reigneth in Africa as in\nEngland, and never sends without Himself going, too.\n\nThe doctor left at 12.0 p.m. on April 30th to get ready the camp for the\nLloyds, and at 4.0 p.m. we fixed the invalid up in the hammock and left\nthe Fort with them. It was a sad and silent procession, and a talk with\nMr. Lloyd showed us how bitter was the disappointment to them both. At\nsunset we stood and wished them good-bye, and it just needed all the\nstrength we could command to keep back the hot tears that wanted to fall\nwith those that shook the poor little patient. Neither of us could speak\nas Miss Pike and I returned to the desolate Fort. Already two of our\ncompanions has been obliged to turn back, and we two girls were left to\ngo on with a missionary who had come out to escort us to Toro.\n\nAt midnight my companion was seized with violent sickness and slight\ntemperature. Donning slippers and enveloping myself in a blanket, I\nran out across the Fort to rouse one of the boys for hot water. It was\nawfully uncanny. The starlit sky was entirely shut out by angry clouds,\nand the darkness was intolerable. Only the shrill shriek of the hyenas\nbroke the stillness, and I half expected the faint light from my candle\nlamp to fall upon a leopard or reptile.\n\nAfter two days, however, she so far recovered as to be able in a hammock\nto take up the journey once more.\n\nI am quite sure Heber had never visited Uganda when he wrote:\u2014\n\n    \u201cWhere Afric\u2019s sunny fountains\n    Roll down their golden sand.\u201d\n\nIf he had done so it might have run:\u2014\n\n    \u201cWhere Afric\u2019s swamps and mountains\n    Meet one on every hand.\u201d\n\nOur experience next day especially proved this. At 6 a.m. a cloudless\nsky greeted us, and damp white mists were sleeping in each hollow. At\nthe foot of the first hill we were confronted by a long swamp with tall\npapyrus grass growing on either side. We had recourse to the hammock,\nand as the water reached the carriers\u2019 waists, one felt the canvas was\nsome inches in water and that it was a case of floating through the\ndirty, stagnant river. I wondered if poor little Moses in the bulrushes\never felt as we did among the papyrus. The second swamp gave us a little\nvariety, as the reed bridge had been broken down and the step down into\nthe swamp was so steep that we felt uncomfortably like sliding over the\nfront carrier, while the climb up at the other end gave us our first\nsensation of standing on our heads.\n\nAt 11 o\u2019clock we halted under a tree and feasted on sausages (tinned),\nsweet potatoes, cornflour, biscuits, and tea. Sausages are a great\ntreat out here, and we only indulged as we were doing a double march to\nreach Toro that day week. We then waited till 2 p.m. so as to allow the\nsun to cool down a bit, and enjoyed reading an English newspaper, the\n\u201cBritish Weekly,\u201d of February 16th date. After that we felt quite ready\nto continue our march, reaching camp at 4 o\u2019clock, only to find our tents\nhad been pitched on such a disgustingly dirty old camping ground that\nthey had to be taken up and erected some hundred yards further on.\n\nDiary-making that day was impossible. Our tent, from the bottom to the\ntop, was literally lined with mosquitoes, and their singing quite put\nin the shade the Royal Choral Society at the Albert Hall. In the two\nprevious camps they had covered the roof, but evidently never tasted the\njoys of European flesh and feared to descend. These others were more\ninitiated.\n\nArriving at Butiti, which is only 30 miles from Kabarole, the capital\nof Toro, we found a most prosperous work going on among the people. Our\nkind escort from Lwekula, Mr. Ecob, was stationed there. A marriage was\nsolemnized in the Mission Church on the day of our arrival. We went\nout of curiosity and to get a peep into the native customs. Never have\nI disgraced myself by such uncontrollable laughter. First of all, the\npair were not forthcoming, and so the parson organized a search party.\nA hilarious sound from the porch warned us of the bridegroom\u2019s arrival.\nHe was a lanky stripling of about 17, dressed in a long white gown. His\nbest man wore a very hole-y shirt, Jaeger-coloured for want of a wash. An\nunwound turban was thrown over his shoulder till required. The bridegroom\nwent forward and squatted on a grass mat in front of the chancel to await\nhis betrothed. Soon a slow, solemn procession coming in at a side door\nbrought in view the belated bride, accompanied and surrounded by about\nthirty maidens. How can I describe that picture! She was ugly\u2014as ugly as\nthe imagination could picture; somewhat advanced in years; her face was\nmarred by cutting and branding, and she was reeking with grease which was\namply smeared over face and shoulders. On her head sat a red Turk\u2019s cap\nworn as a sign of marriage or high station. This, on account of its size,\nhad the appearance of a candle extinguisher. Then her body was swathed in\nall sorts of coloured prints and beads. After the ceremony, the couple\nleft by different doors, the bridesmaids holding an old torn \u201cbrollie\u201d\nover the retiring bride, who was weeping copiously. The women regard\nmarriage in rather a philosophical light. They say it has two arms. One\nbrings a home, protection, and presents of clothing and rejoicing. The\nother shuts the door of liberty; it brings work, and that means sorrow.\nThe thought of the latter predominates on the wedding day.\n\nWhen six miles away from Butiti we got our first view of the Mountains\nof the Moon. I can never forget the sight that was suddenly opened up as\nwe turned a sharp bend round a high hill. It was 4.30 p.m. Huge peaks,\nsharp and rugged, stretched from north to south in an unbroken range of\nsixty-nine miles long. Heavy black thunder clouds rolled over some of the\nsummits, while the lightning shot out angry tongues of fire. Torrents\nof rain were sweeping away to our right, while the sun beat down in\nfull strength upon the valleys. Above all, calm and serene, shone the\nregion of snow. For all ages the sun has directed its equatorial power\nagainst that ice fortress. Storms have thundered and crushed against\nits foundations, but it has ever stood as the one impregnable and\nunsullied witness of holiness and purity to God, in a land where darkness\nhas reigned, and the storms of passion, vice and barbarity have laid\ndesolate.\n\nDescending to the forest just beneath us, we sat under the shade of its\ntrees, keeping well in view of glorious Ruwenzori. While tea was in\npreparation we just gave ourselves up to the influences of environment.\nFor a moment we even dared to feel poetical. Long forgotten stanzas lived\nagain in the memory, but were all put down as original and momentary\ngenius. My turn having come round, I made a rush at something with a\nguilty conscience of poaching on another one\u2019s preserves, and it ran\nsomething like:\u2014\n\n    \u201cMountains on whose rugged breast\n    The labouring clouds do often rest.\u201d\n\nBut I got no further, for who should appear but someone suspiciously\nlike a tourist. So unusual a sight made us forget English customs, and\nwe waited for no introductions. We received a real warm welcome straight\naway from our companion-designate and only co-worker in Kabarole.\n\nNext morning we rose at 5.0 and saw the sun rise on the snow peaks and\nthen started on our last walk.\n\nAlmost immediately runners met us bearing letters from the King and\nQueen, the Namasole (the King\u2019s mother), the Prime Minister, and chiefs,\nall welcoming us in words of warmest thanks. These men scarcely waited\nfor our verbal answer before rushing back. In fact, the road for a long\nway ahead was defined by men and boys rushing toward and from us with\nmessages. As we drew nearer a few teachers and others came to prepare\nus for the reception that awaited us, and informed us that the women\nof Toro were congregated just beyond our next hill. We little guessed\nwhat an army lay entrenched there. As we approached, one moving mass of\nfluttering white and crimson gowns came bearing down upon us, rushing,\nclapping their hands, and shrieking. Then crowds of black arms were\nthrown wildly round our necks, and as many pates placed from one shoulder\nto the other.\n\nWe talked as well as we could to them, but our progress was slow, as\nevery now and again they stopped us and repeated their demonstrations.\nOver the next hill the male force had rallied, and here a no less hearty\nthough more formal welcome awaited us.\n\nWe made for the church, which was crowded, and a few impromptu prayers\nand hymns of praise went up on our behalf. Then we inspected our future\nwhite-washed home, and from that moment, all day long and every day, we\nwere crowded with visitors.\n\nThe royal band was sent down by His Majesty to play outside our house.\nIt was composed of six drummers and twelve fifers, whose instruments\nare able to produce about five notes, and with these they produce\nindistinguishable tunes. Their appreciation of music seems to depend on\nthe volume of sound produced, so in order to give us a proof of their\nwelcome they blew to bursting pitch. All day long we were serenaded and\nat night, too. It went on into the second day, and thinking the bandsmen\nmight prove to have stronger lung power than we had of endurance, we set\na polite message to his Majesty asking that they might be allowed to rest\nat night till daylight.\n\nSo at last we had reached our journey\u2019s end. The sixteen weeks that had\nrun out since leaving home had been long and eventful. As the evening\nfell on our first day in Toro, we gathered round our log fire and sang\ntogether \u201cO God our help in ages past.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nThe Country\n\n\nToro is one of the four Kingdoms that comprise the Uganda Protectorate\nand lies on the North-west boundary. The present outlook would lead one\nto think that it will remain unaffected longer than the other three\nneighbouring States by the inroads that civilization is making in Uganda,\nwhich the railway has brought into such close proximity to the outside\nworld, while traders pass along the splendid caravan roads through\nBunyoro up to the Nile, and to the Southern cattle-rearing Kingdom of\nAnkole. There is nothing to attract them to Toro, as the journey is a\nreal physical effort, and there is no commercial prospect of mineral\nwealth or remunerative industry to justify the long journey. The ivory\nthat formerly brought the Arab traders into the country is now almost\nentirely preserved by the British Government. So, unless Toro is visited\nby more successful prospectors than those who have already casually\nlooked round, who shall discover some hidden mine of wealth, in all\nprobability it will remain undisturbed in its present state of rusticity.\n\nBut it is a wonderful country, and one that must ever fascinate a lover\nof nature and its freaks. The mountains are in themselves a unique\nfeature. One can scarcely reconcile the co-existence of an equatorial\nsun and eternal snows, yet so it is. Strange mountain tribes in quite\nprimeval state live among its forests and creeks, while just on its other\nside extends Stanley\u2019s Great Forest with its pigmy inhabitants.\n\nOn all sides one sees the results of the operation of mighty unseen\nforces. Numbers of extinct volcanoes are visible from our hill, the\ncraters of which form the beds of lakes now, with vegetation and forest\ngrowth stretching down their sides to the water\u2019s edge.\n\nThey must have enjoyed a good long sleep, as no hints of their activity\nare traced in the native traditions, which go back to a corresponding\nAdamic period. There are quite a number of legends, however, which\ninvariably associate them with evil spirits that are supposed to live in\nthe craters. This is believed even still by some of the raw peasants.\nOne day a woman told me that her two little boys had been playing in the\ncourtyard while she was at work, and the \u201cMuchwezi\u201d (evil spirit) from\nthe Crater hill two miles away had come and run off with her elder child.\nFor two years he had remained lost to them, when suddenly he returned\nclothed in a strip of bark-cloth and a charm round his neck peculiar to\nthat evil spirit. He was sworn to divulge nothing of what had happened to\nhim while being with the evil spirits in the crater, under the penalty of\nbeing caught away again by them.\n\n[Illustration: THE MARKET PLACE.\n\n_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]\n\nHere let me recount a rather unique picnic we had at one of these crater\nlakes three miles away. It happened on a Monday\u2014the Missionaries\u2019\noff-day\u2014when general repairs and washing are usually done, or visits paid\nto neighbouring villages. We started off on our bikes in high spirits\nwhich managed to survive a heavy thunderstorm that overtook us half way\nand soaked us through. We hung ourselves out to dry round a fire in the\nhut on the lake shore, and having warmed ourselves with tea made for the\nlake in search of wild-duck. We baled the water out of the dug-out canoe\nand set off with three boys as paddlers. You never met with anything more\naggravating than an African dug-out; they are so badly balanced that the\nleast movement threatens to overturn the skiff; and as for steering,\nthat is out of the question. Anyhow, when we were far away from our\nlanding point, the canoe refused to move, except in complete circles.\nWe could make no headway; the united efforts of all\u2014barring myself, who\ndid not row\u2014failed to move the boat except in rapid revolutions. Then a\nstorm blew up and darkness seemed to be suddenly settling down on us.\nOne of our party, who knew from experience our danger, was in a terrible\nfright. I tried hard to tune up to \u201cExcelsior\u201d and \u201cMidshipmite,\u201d which\neventually evidently appealed to the kind heart of the elements, for\nthe boat moved and we were safely landed. But the return home was the\ndifficulty. The moon went in as soon as it appeared, and as it was so\ndark a different route was suggested, in order to escape the river which\nwe had to cross on our way out. About half way we found out that the\nrecent storms had washed away the bridge we had relied upon to get us\nacross the river and so were obliged to trust to other means. Miss Pike\nheaded the procession on a boy\u2019s shoulder, but as the water came up to\nthe lad\u2019s armpit her position was far from enviable. Then I ventured on\nthe donkey, sitting in a sort of tailor fashion, but, alas! the water\nrefused to let me off scot free. After that, in a miserably drenched\ncondition, with our flapping skirts like reservoirs of water, we trudged\non through long grass and thick mud, and at last reached a succession\nof deep swamps. One of these looked so tragic and interminable that the\nmen insisted on crossing hands and taking me through in dandy-chair\nstyle. I shall not forget that experience. Like Christian of old, one\nof my carrier\u2019s strength and courage failed him, and half-way I became\nsuddenly aware that he was rapidly disappearing under water. A violent\nyell brought small boys to the rescue, who, supporting me, managed to\nextricate him from the mud depths, and a second start was made; but just\nas we were reaching the other side the same poor, unfortunate man landed\nin more mud, into which he sank. Before I could release my hold, I saw\nhim go completely under the water, and felt myself rapidly descending\ninto the depths over his head. The situation was so ludicrous that the\nawful after-effects were forgotten in the peals of laughter which no one\ncould restrain, in spite of the poor man\u2019s miserable condition and my own.\n\nTo resume our description\u2014on the east of Ruwenzori the land presents an\nunbroken stretch of undulating country; on the west side the land falls\nrapidly and forms the Semliki plain, so called after the river that winds\nzig-zag through it, uniting the Albert Edward Nyanza on the south to the\nAlbert Nyanza on the north.\n\nDescending to this plain round the north end of the mountain range, the\nconfiguration of the land indicates two distinct ancient water levels;\nthis is confirmed by the quantities of small shells that are often found\nin scattered heaps among the sandy soil, similar to those now found on\nthe Lake shores.\n\nWith the exception of the fringe of the Congo Forest that enters the Toro\nboundary, and the Bamboo Forests that grow so thickly on the slopes of\nthe mountains, Toro is not abundant in trees and timber. Wide veins of\nwoodland winding along the river courses, however, form welcome relief to\nthe prolific elephant grass that covers hills and valleys. Looked down\nupon from a distance these extended forests present a rich variety of\ntints. Winter is never seen, for when old age strikes the branches, the\ntree breaks forth into its second childhood under the influence of the\nsun\u2019s rays. But on entering beneath the shade of these tempting oases,\none realizes a feeling of disappointment, for everything appears to have\noutgrown its beauty. Powerful and unkempt creepers and rubber plants have\nwound their long bare limbs like poisonous snakes round the barks and\nbranches of the trees till the vegetation has ceased to breathe in their\ngrasp, and has withered away. Then the mischievous little monkeys as\nthey frolic and scamper about leave such litter behind!\n\nToro is almost entirely void of isolated trees. The annual grass fires\nthat are lighted to clear the country for the sowing of the crops have\ngiven them no chance of an existence.\n\nBanana groves are gradually springing up over the country, for the Batoro\nare emulating the example of the Baganda in adopting the unsweetened\nbanana called \u201cMatoke\u201d as their staple food. Formerly they lived entirely\non \u201cBura,\u201d a small millet which possesses a very low percentage of\nnutritive quality. The only thing that commends it is the infinitesimal\namount of labour needed for its cultivation, and this is the chief\nconsideration of these folk. They grind the grain between two stones\nwhich gradually crumble away in the process, making the food when cooked\nhardly distinguishable from boiled sand.\n\nRuwenzori gives the whole kingdom of Toro a very plentiful water supply.\nThe streams, flowing down from the ever-melting snow and ice, unite\nand form clear and swift rivers which provide the land with pure cold\nwater, but at the same time make the country difficult for travelling\nabout in. The crude bridges made by the natives get washed away in the\nrainy season, which often monopolises nine months out of the twelve.\nThe mountains seem to attract every cloud that rises above the horizon.\nNature indulges in most phenomenal pranks out there. There may be a\nperfectly bright cloudless afternoon, when suddenly it looks as if\nall the clouds of heaven had been unchained and let loose. From every\ndirection they gather in impenetrable blackness, then girding themselves\nwith fury, they burst forth and, with a hurricane in their wake, menace\nToro with a few angry tears of passion and break with roars of thunder\nand tongues of fire on Ruwenzori\u2019s side. Failing to shake that mountain\nridge, they rebound and empty themselves upon Kabarole. In a few minutes\nthe whole country is a wash-out; the hills send down sheets of water, and\nso do our thatched roofs. Unless these are under constant repair, all our\nlittle black boys, when they see a storm coming, are armed with pots,\npans, basins, and dishes, and stand about in the rooms to catch the rain\nwater, and so save themselves the trouble of going to the spring.\n\nOne afternoon a terrible thunderstorm broke over Toro; the force of\none clap, which was simultaneous with the most vivid lightning, was\nindescribable. A thunderbolt seemingly had fallen just over our heads and\nsounded as if a million dynamite explosives had burst over us. Scarcely\nhad one recovered from the momentary shock, when the dreaded sound \u201cTera\nenduru\u201d was heard; this is a fire alarm which the natives produce by\nclapping their lips with the palm of their hand. Hastening outside, we\nsaw clouds of smoke issuing from Mr. and Mrs. Maddox\u2019s house, which\nadjoined ours. Not waiting for hats or umbrellas, we hurried across to\nthe yard, where boys and girls were rushing frantically about; Mrs.\nMaddox was in bed with fever in the very room where the fire had broken\nout. Her room was blazing away, while she was asleep, unconscious of her\ndanger. Wrapping her in blankets, we managed to have her carried across\nto our house. The lightning had struck the corner of the room, instantly\nigniting the thatch, poles, and bamboo ceiling; the flash had travelled\nthrough the room, just escaping the bed, but singeing a little Bible on\nthe table close by. Really, her escape was nothing less than a miracle.\nIn a very short time the Katikiro was on the spot with his men, and we\nall worked hard at carrying out the things. To save the house was an\nimpossibility. It was merely a fight with time and fire\u2014pulling down\npacking cases and books, carrying out stores, boxes, bedding, clothing,\ncrockery, tables, and chairs, and feeling the flames were quickly\ndevouring all that lay in their way. When almost the last item was out,\nwe were ordered away, and with a crash the end of the roof fell in, while\nthe flames ascended in one solid, angry mass. Meanwhile, the King had\nposted an army of men to guard our house, and fan away all sparks with\nlarge banana leaves. All this had taken but fifteen minutes, so you can\nimagine the rapidity with which everyone had worked. The only things\nburnt were a tent and camp-bed, which had been stored in the roof, and\nwere quite unreachable.\n\nFortunately, this happened just ten days before they were due to leave\nfor England, so they were not homeless for long.\n\nThe whole of Toro seemed to crowd into our court, congratulating us\nall on our escape, and thanking God for protecting us. You will easily\nimagine how dead beat we were when the day was over, and how we welcomed\nsleep; but this was not to be for long, for at 12.0 midnight the same\nalarm of fire awakened us, and tearing on our dressing gowns and\nslippers, we found Mr. Fisher\u2019s women\u2019s house a conflagration. This was\ntruly terrifying, as it was in such close proximity to his own house;\nwhile, as the house was entirely built of grass and reeds, the flames\nwere more rapid and dense. Black figures, silhouetted against the flaming\nbackground, were seen wildly scrambling up on to these two roofs, beating\naway the flames and sparks. It really seemed an impossibility to save\neither, especially when you heard people shouting \u201cMuije okutukonyera\nenju yahya\u201d (\u201cCome and help us, the house is on the point of burning.\u201d)\nBut I am glad to say the God of Deliverances was again with us to save,\nand to show forth His power. Nothing was lost but the women\u2019s house, and\nthe possessions and clothing of the seven women. In the morning, this was\nfound to be a case of incendiarism; a small girl, who had recently left\nthrough stealing, had set fire to the house to revenge herself on the\nwomen.\n\nThese things are a little bit upsetting to one\u2019s nerves; the constant\nearthquakes and terrific thunderstorms keep one always girded for flight.\nOne afternoon the missionaries had met together for afternoon tea, and\nsuddenly there was a slight underground murmur, and the house shook as if\nit trembled. There were three windows and one door to the room, and out\nof them the three men instantly disappeared; they looked rather shaken\nwhen they came back for their tea. It was agreed not to let out names!\n\nOn the western wide of Ruwenzori, and close to the base of that mountain\nrange, are boiling springs containing a considerable proportion of\nsulphur. The natives have discovered their medicinal properties for skin\ndiseases and have digged channels so as to divert part of the water\ninto trenches or pits where they can sufficiently cool it for bathing\npurposes. They also carry their food down to the springs, and in a short\ntime the plantains or potatoes are cooked and ready for use.\n\nLying as it does on the Equator, Toro experiences scarcely any change\nof seasons all the year round, and in consequence of its being some\n5,000 feet above sea level, the temperature scarcely rises above 75-80\u00b0\nFahr. in the shade, while the nights are often cold enough to justify\nthe log fires that the Europeans indulge in. The prodigious and constant\nrainfalls just rob the country of a reputation it might have held for\npossessing an ideal climate for the colonist and for agricultural\npurposes. Except in the low-lying marshy districts, Toro is exceptionally\nfree from mosquitoes and malaria, and, up to the present, not one case of\nsleeping sickness has been known.\n\nThe soil is abnormally rich. Eucalyptus seed sown in the open produces\ntrees of 12-15ft. in 18 months. Strawberries yield two and three\nplentiful crops annually, in fact growth has often to be checked, as in\nthe case of cauliflowers, which need transplanting three times if fruit\nis to be obtained. Excellent coffee is grown in the country, and a very\nlimited amount of inferior wheat. There is no reason why rice should\nnot be successfully cultivated in the swampy soil, and tea on the sides\nof the mountains. The great obstacle to the developing of industries\nat present is the difficulty of transport to the districts where there\nis a profit-yielding demand. No minerals have yet been discovered with\nthe exception of an appreciable amount of iron, which the people have\ninstinctively learned to work; they are able to turn out good spear\nheads, hoes, knives, and even rough needles of clumsy proportions.\n\nThis is undoubtedly one of the world\u2019s natural zoological gardens. Huge\nherds of elephants, sometimes numbering 200 or 300, trundle through the\ntiger grass; leopards and lions may be heard at night roaring after their\nprey, sometimes even round the capital; crocodiles and hippopotami infest\nthe lakes; monkeys and chimpanzees scamper about the forests; snakes lie\ncoiled up in the long grass; and everywhere teems insect life, from the\ninfinitesimal jigger to the locust. Lions are feared less by the people\nthan leopards. In Bunyoro, where lions showed a leaning towards human\nflesh and blood, the King or Chief of the infested district used to send\nout two black cows or calves, and the lions, after having tasted their\nblood, no longer troubled the people, but dieted from that time on pigs\nand hyenas.\n\nToro is still in the infancy of its development; the land, its resources,\nthe people, and their possibilities are fields that give promise of a\nharvest of rich fruition to those who go to labour with mind and will.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nHome Life\n\n\nLife in Africa offers as sharp a contrast as is possible to imagine\nto the rush and bustle of the old country. Perhaps this is one of the\nearliest impressions that strikes one when coming straight from a large\nand noisy household in the Metropolis. The keynote of this country is\n\u201cmpora, mpora\u201d\u2014\u201cslowly, slowly,\u201d and its effects are seen and felt\neverywhere. Time is of no consequence or value to the people. The wheels\nof life revolve so slowly that I felt as if my whole being had been\npulled up with a jerk. The clockwork of activity had to be allowed to run\ndown gradually, in order to fall into correspondence with things around.\n\nHaving left England just after Christmas, with its memories of busy\nthoroughfares streaming with lights from the gaily decorated shops, and\nteeming with folks big and small all chattering and preparing for the\nfestive season, I had scarcely had time to forget all this noise and\nrattle before arriving at the antipodes of existence. Step out of the\nhouse one evening with me at about 8.0. Miles and miles of country lie\nfaintly outlined by the phantom light of the moon\u2014that orb of death. No\nother spark or ray breaks the long, wide expanse of darkness, and all the\nland and nature lie in profound sleep: no song of mirth or infant\u2019s cry\nreaches us, everything is mute and everywhere is sleeping.\n\nSuddenly a shrill shriek from the hyena or a leopard\u2019s low growl drives\nus indoors. Oh for the rumble of a London \u2019bus or the rush of the Irish\nexpress as it passes the old home in a mad hurry night after night. There\nis the faithful companionship of a scratchy pen, so that is how one\ngenerally turns out a voluminous correspondent in these parts of silent\nAfrica.\n\nNow let that same pen tell something of our home and various domestic\nodds and ends. Our house was built of wood and mud daub with a roof of\nthatch. The rooms, five in number, were lofty and fairly large, with\nwalls which could be called neither straight nor smooth\u2014in fact they\nrather reminded me of \u201cUncle Podger\u2019s\u201d wall that looked as if it had been\nsmoothed down with a garden rake after he had been hanging a picture.\nBut ours were white-washed, and this, at least, gave them a clean and\ncheerful appearance. The fact was that a violent storm had slightly blown\nthe walls out of gear before the ground had sufficiently hardened round\nthe framework poles. The windows were ingeniously made of wood with\ncalico nailed across as a substitute for glass. We had only one door to\nstart with\u2014the front door\u2014made of the unpolished and unplaned material\nof two packing cases, ornamented with the names and destinations of the\nowners of the boxes. There was a verandah all round the house which kept\nit cool from the mid-day sun.\n\nReally, it was a marvellous building when you consider that the workmen\nhad never built anything different from the round beehive grass and reed\nhuts in which the people live. The poles had all to be brought in from a\nforest seven miles away, and were carried in on men\u2019s heads. The mud was\nbeaten by their bare feet. They had to be overlooked at every point and\nturn as they have no idea of work, or even a straight line, unless the\nEuropean is actually on the spot to show them. And when that European\nwas absolutely alone and endeavouring to act as pastor, teacher, and\nschoolmaster to hundreds of eager and teachable people, the question is\nhow he ever squeezed in time to build this and his own house.\n\nOur tent furniture was far too diminutive and scanty to fill our five\nrooms, so we turned cabinet-makers, and produced some highly creditable\narticles, all things considered.\n\nPiling up six packing cases of uniform size, and nailing round strips of\nnative grass matting, we had a splendid \u201cLiberty\u201d bookcase.\n\nA \u201ccosy corner\u201d was made out of two more boxes turned upside down,\nstuffed with shavings and covered with cretonne. It _looked_ very\ncomfortable but rather belied its name.\n\nOur dining-room table consisted of the lids of cases joined up and nailed\nto four posts planted in the mud floor. After a few weeks the legs took\nroot, and the young branches supplied novel decorations.\n\nWe framed a few large photographs in reeds and hung them where the walls\nwere flat enough.\n\nThe nights in Toro are cold, for although we are only 1\u00b75 degrees lat.\nNorth, the capital is 5,000 feet above sea level. In consequence the\nhouses are built with brick chimneys. With a bright log fire burning in\nthe open hearth and a comfortable arm chair our sitting-room looked very\ncosy and bright. It is quite remarkable the amount of enjoyment one can\nderive out of things which cost nothing but a little hard work and a good\ndeal harder thinking out.\n\nOne learns sometimes from rather trying experiences that several things\nwhich have been regarded as absolute essentials in England can so easily\nbe dispensed with out here.\n\nA lot of things brought out from home reached me in a hopelessly wrecked\ncondition. As I have said before, on account of the scarcity of porters\nwe had been obliged to leave several boxes behind. Three of the\ntwenty-three I had left were never again heard of. As these were food\nsupplies I hoped they nourished some of the half-famished natives we\npassed up country. But the cases that did arrive had been exposed without\nprotection from the rains, and were absolutely rotten when they reached\nme; the zinc linings had been destroyed by rust, and the contents reduced\nto pulp. In a sort of mechanical way I sorted out the different things,\nthrowing aside books, letters, clothing, and nick-nacks on the rubbish\nheap. Some things could never be replaced\u2014little recollections of the\npast and home-links. How reluctantly were these cast out!\u2014but God showed\nme that this was known and allowed by Him, and when once He shows us\nthis, the sunshine bursts forth and the heart rejoices. It strengthens\none all round when sometimes the temporal is shattered to allow the\nInvisible and Eternal to appear. I should not be at all surprised that\nour missionary example St. Paul had had all his loads spoilt by shipwreck\nwhen he wrote: \u201cI have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be\ncontent; not that I speak in respect of want.\u201d\n\nOn another occasion when our annual supplies from England were within one\nday\u2019s march of Toro the porters\u2019 shed was burnt down and all our loads\nbut two were destroyed.\n\nNow, as to food, there are just three items you can buy out here: goats,\nor sheep that have not an ounce of fat except in their tails. These cost\nabout 2s. 8d. Chickens, which provide sufficient flesh for one person\u2019s\nmeal of very normal appetite, can be purchased for fifty cowrie shells\n(1\u00bcd.), twenty eggs for the same price, but these are not often cheap, as\nvery frequently they are brought for sale when they will not hatch.\n\nOf course our store room, furnished from England, is our grocer; the\ngarden answers to greengrocer and fruiterer, for it produces nearly\neverything; crops can be had in constant succession if care is taken to\nsow systematically. We also have from our cows a constant supply of fresh\nbutter, cream, and milk which is churned on the premises in a native\ngourd. Besides this we are our own bakers. Flour is grown in limited and\nfluctuating quantities in the country. This is ground up, mixed with\ncarbonate of soda and buttermilk, baked in a native pot with fire above\nand under, and in less than an hour a very decent wholemeal loaf is ready\nfor afternoon tea.\n\nThe only drawback is that most of these departments of industry have to\nbe worked by one\u2019s self. It is rather curious the number of professions a\nEuropean holds out here, simply because he must, there is no one else to\ndo it. The natives have such exalted ideas of the powers of a white man,\nthat they appeal to him in every difficulty.\n\nThe first week we had brought to us an umbrella to be re-covered, one\nwatch with broken mainspring needing repair, a lamp to be soldered, all\nsorts and conditions of sick people wanting medicine, and one raving\nmadman!\n\nThe servant question was one that had to be faced immediately on our\narrival, so we decided to write up to the King and Namasole. In reply,\nfour young girls were sent down who did nothing but weep in spite of\nour kindly assurances of friendliness. They had never seen white ladies\nbefore, and were literally scared at us. They all ran away during the\nfirst night! So we had to keep on our road-boys until we had won the\nconfidence of the women. We sometimes wondered if we should live to see\nthat time; for one day a cabbage was sent to table that had been cooked\nin about one pound of soda. The cook had seen the European put a pinch\nin the water, and judging the diminutive quantity was with an eye to\neconomy, determined on giving us a liberal treat for once!\n\nOur best \u201ccosy\u201d was served up at another meal as a dish cover to the\nroast chicken!\n\nIt is not often, however, that they knowingly deviate from the model\nlesson given them; they sometimes err too faithfully on the other side\nby reproducing the European\u2019s mistakes and never improving on them. If\nyou have once taught them a heavy pastry, your pies will always have\nthat same unfortunate crust in spite of a more successful second lesson.\nThey believe absolutely in reverting to original type. However, this is\na one-sided view of the little black cooks. Imagine an English lad of\ntwelve serving up a six-course dinner as these little fellows can, after\nsome training; and with such a kitchen range, three bricks or stones and\nsome twigs, and a very limited storeroom. Give a Toro cook a leg of goat\nand he can turn out a most satisfying meal of varieties\u2014goat soup, goat\ncurry, goat stewed, goat boiled and roast; and then if you want one more\ncourse, give him flour, eggs, milk, and a little butter, and he could\nsend you in goat pie and goat pudding, or pancakes, boiled or baked\nbatter, boiled or baked sponge pudding.\n\nIf you live on poor food in Toro, you must not blame the country or your\ncook, but yourself, that you did not arm against the future by occasional\nvisits to your English kitchen. That is by far the best way of learning;\ncookery lectures and cookery books are not much use for a country like\nthis; they generally tell you to \u201ctake\u201d something you have not got and\ncannot get, and on that seems to depend the success of the recipe. Often\nhave I recalled the long, tiring hours spent in learning to knead bread,\nand then the patience of waiting for it to rise; we should be eating\ntinned biscuits (like our predecessors) till this day if our bread\ndepended on that method out here.\n\nVegetables form rather an important part in the daily diet; in fact,\none is inclined to be a vegetarian where vegetables are so plentiful\nand meat very tough and tasteless. On some occasions fifteen different\nkinds have been sent to table at a meal. They are all cooked in one large\nearthen pot, each vegetable being tied up in a large banana leaf with\nwater\u2014the leaf is waterproof and made soft and pliable by passing it\nthrough the fire.\n\nThe white ants and snakes show marked appreciation for the Europeans\u2019\nhouses. In spite of digging deep trenches round outside, the ants, which\nare supposed to travel only a few inches under the surface soil, manage\nto get at the poles and so gradually undermine the safety of the walls.\nThey are the most indefatigable workers. In one night the floor of a\nroom will be covered with little heaps of soil which they have carried\nup; a mackintosh coat was half eaten away by these little pests that\nhad discovered it on a peg behind the bedroom door. Sulphur, hot water,\nKeating, pepper, thrown down proved quite ineffectual in driving them\noff. The natives advised a European to leave the little ant-heaps for a\nfew days until a crop of small mushrooms appeared on the ant-heaps, and\nthat would satisfy the ants and off they would go to begin their work\nelsewhere. The experiment was tried, with the result that on the third\nday the floor was covered with tiny white fungi, and the ants really\ndid disappear after that. I will not attempt to explain the reason\nscientifically.\n\nMore stringent measures than passive resistance were needed for the\nsnakes that came and built under the sitting room floor. Their appearance\nwas first discovered by one of them leaving his top coat behind him in\none of the rooms.\n\nOne evening we were roused from our peaceful occupations hearing two\nrifle reports and a regular stampede outside our house; we rushed to\nthe door, but were quickly told to shut it up, as a leopard was rushing\nabout. Two shots had been fired, but missed it. A large search party\nwas formed of excited, frightened natives with spears, rifles, and long\ntorches, but all their endeavours were in vain. Three nights after that\nanother and even larger leopard prowled round the houses, entered the\ndonkey stables and dragged out a small baby donkey. In the morning an\nawful sight met our gaze on the path outside the stabling. The two hind\nlegs had been completely eaten and the body torn open; the ground was\ncovered with blood, and many claw marks were visible. The war drum was\nbeaten, and, according to the law of the country, all the men turned out,\nfrom the chiefs to the poorest peasant, armed with spears and clubs.\nThe excitement was intense, the King\u2019s Hill was thronged with dancing,\nrushing natives, singing war songs and making dashing onslaughts toward\nimaginary foes. They all danced and rushed in step, accomplishing the\ncurious body dance in perfect order. They tracked the beast and Mr.\nFisher, who had led out the party, shot it as it gave one spring from its\nlair. The return home was a yell of victory, all assembling under the\nlarge tree on the top of the King\u2019s Hill to salute the Katikiro (Chief\nMinister), who sat in state to wait the arrival of the prey. Afterwards\nall the wounded were brought to the dispensary for surgical attention;\none arm was so severely cut with spears and torn by the leopard\u2019s claws\nthat I had to stitch it up. Leopard\u2019s claws are very poisonous, and\ninflammation immediately sets in; many cases prove fatal on account of\nblood poisoning.\n\nJust one word more before closing this. Life out here is not one of\nconstant \u201croughing it.\u201d No girls in England could have been happier than\nwe were, and there are heaps of things that make up for some left in\nMerrie England.\n\nFor instance, a punt down the Thames is not to be compared to a paddle\nin a dug-out canoe or a sail in the same by a square of calico hoisted.\nThere is a delightful lake right away among the mountains, only five\nmiles off, and no one ever enjoyed a lunch like the one we had in the\nlittle reed bungalow on the shore. Our first picnic there was unique.\nThe lunch was provided by the Government officials, and really, I had\nnever imagined men were so domesticated. They superintended the culinary\narrangements. The Administrator made a meat pie, the crust of which\nmight have been improved; another produced a sort of trifle; while a\nthird manufactured scones; and we tried not to notice the lack of baking\npowder. But we survived all three.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nRoyal Life\n\n\nKabarole, the capital of Toro, may be described as a city of hills. On\nthe highest of these, commanding a panoramic view of the country north,\nsouth, and east of Ruwenzori, stands the palace of King Daudi Kasagama.\nThe Uganda Protectorate differs from Nigeria and the other west coast\ndistricts, in that it possesses no old-established cities and towns.\nThe custom of the Kings of each of the four independent Kingdoms of the\nProtectorate formerly was to remove the capital as each succeeded to the\nthrone. This involved a constant exodus of the people, who cleared out\nbodily in order to be close to their King. Scarcely any traces can be\nfound of the previous capitals, as the houses were constructed merely of\nreeds, poles and thatch, which offer no resistance to the destroying hand\nof time; occasionally a worn grinding-stone or a broken cooking-pot is\nmet with among waving elephant grass that immediately assumed mastery of\nthe ground on the removal of the people.\n\nIn 1891 Kasagama succeeded to the throne of Toro, which was then being\nplundered and ravaged by the Kabarega, the neighbouring and powerful\nKing of Unyoro. For some years the whole district was distressed by the\nmerciless tyranny of the raiders, and the people were obliged to flee to\nthe shelter of the mountains. Now peace and order reign, the security and\nauthority of the King and his counsellors have been established by the\nBritish Government, and the country sown on all hands with the seed of\nChristianity which has effected a complete reformation in the lives and\ncondition of the people.\n\nThe King\u2019s house is the only brick building at present in the country.\nIt is two-storied, with walls two and a half feet thick. The staircase\nis roughly constructed of bricks and runs outside. On the ground floor\nare three rooms. The centre one, into which the front door opens, is\nthe reception room. The walls and ceiling are gaily hung with bright\nprinted calico strips of varied design and colouring, stitched together.\nOver these are large, coloured Bible pictures illustrating the life of\nChrist. On the floor are spread grass mats and leopards\u2019 skins, which\nare the sign of royalty. An Indian rug is placed under a table and chair\nin one corner where His Majesty sits and receives his guests. The room\nis supplied with no other furniture. A waiting-room leads off from this,\nwhich is unfurnished, with the exception of a native divan made of reeds\nfor important or sick attendants; the others lounge about on the fine,\nsoft grass strewn on the floor.\n\nKasagama\u2019s study is on the other side of the reception-room, and that is\nwhere he does most of his business and carries on his correspondence.\nUpon the rows of shelves fixed to the wall are to be seen small piles of\ndocuments and letters received from his chiefs in the outlying districts,\nwho are just learning to write. The boxes at the end of the room contain\nall his treasured presents received from the Government officials,\nmissionaries and friends in England. If you call in any afternoon\nabout five o\u2019clock and are a friend of His Majesty you would perhaps\nbe allowed into this sanctum, and there might find him working away\nat his typewriter or dictating to his typist, who can run his fingers\nvery rapidly over the keyboard. Kasagama is now hard at work writing a\nhistory of the country. To prevent any unauthentic references to the past\nhe has two old men, well versed in ancient lore, to refer to.\n\n[Illustration: KING DANDI KASAGAMA OF TORO AND HIS CHIEFS.\n\n_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]\n\nThe Council Hall, in which Parliament assembles every Monday, is in an\nadjoining country, and this is a large reed structure decorated inside\nwith coloured calicos like the reception room. The railed off partitions\nare intended for the King\u2019s chair, and for the Queen Mother or Sister,\neither of whom is expected to attend each week. The Ministers of State\nare arranged in straight rows down the building, and the people involved\nin the various cases brought up for trial come and kneel in the wide\naisle which leads up to the King\u2019s seat.\n\nI only attended once, as women are generally debarred the privilege, but\nthe first thing that struck me was how very civilised is the House in\nToro and much in advance of one\u2019s own native land, for we were not put\nup in a third gallery behind wire caging to merely catch a glimpse of\nthe Speaker\u2019s head, but had seats given us next to the King! However,\nthere was a sad need of an Opposition or Nationalists\u2019 Bench, to add a\nlittle gusto and sensation to the proceedings. To make up for this at\nthe conclusion of each case, the Royal band broke out into uproarious\nmelodies, and the bandsmen accompanied their instruments with caricature\nIrish jigs.\n\nA visit to the King must always include an inspection of his flower\ngarden, of which he is very proud. It dates back to our arrival in Toro.\nAs he used to drop in for afternoon tea, he would often find us armed\nwith rake and spade, just ready to tackle the patch of weeds outside our\nhouse. It was a matter of surprise to the natives when they heard that\nthe white ladies were \u201ccultivating,\u201d and a still greater wonder when\nthey learned that they were not sowing food but flowers. Whatever was\nthe use of flowers? However, Kasagama thought it must be the correct\nthing, so one day ventured to beg a few flower seeds to start a garden\nfor himself, and then very hesitatingly and half apologetically he asked\nwhat was the exact use of flowers, as he wanted to have an answer ready\nto give to questioners. However, the beauty and fragrance of our English\nflowers have spoken to these people and awakened in their hearts a real\nadmiration and love, so that outside many a Toro homestead now can be\nseen borders of carefully tended flowers; and often prettily-arranged\nbouquets will be brought by them as greetings or offerings. At Easter\ntime one result of this is seen in the Church. On the Saturday each one\nis asked to bring in the decorations and to help arrange them. The first\ntime this was done the chancel was simply banked with bouquets, wreaths,\nand bunches of wild or cultivated flowers; palm leaves and papyrus grass,\nfixed to the columns of reeded poles down the church, made continued\narches right along each aisle, while the open window sills were festooned\nwith wild clematis. Most of this was done entirely by the natives.\n\nCourt life in Toro has a very attractive home side to it. One can\nscarcely wish for a more touching picture than when, the affairs of State\nbeing over for the day, Damali, the young Queen, comes into the Royal\nPalace with the little Princess Ruzi (Ruth). The Queen first bows before\nher husband-King, and the tiny child follows her mother\u2019s example, and in\nbaby language greets His Majesty. Then Kasagama for a time lays aside his\nregal dignity and clasping the child in his arms fondles her and talks\nand romps like a big school-boy.\n\nThe old custom of the men and women feeding apart has disappeared in the\nKing\u2019s household, and every evening Kasagama and Damali dine together.\nThe menu never varies from one year\u2019s end to another. Each day the King\nhas his own particular cut from the goat, namely, the chops and cutlets,\nand the Queen has a leg. They generally manage to finish their joints,\nbesides the quantities of boiled plantains and various native vegetables\nserved up with the meat.\n\nKasagama has recently developed distinct sporting inclinations, and\nalthough it cannot be said that he has made his name, certain it is he\nhas made his mark at them. Tennis was the first pastime he indulged in.\nOne court was enough to allure anyone! A space was thoroughly cleared\nof vegetation in the mission compound and beaten by foot in place of a\nroller; two posts were firmly planted in the ground, a rope stretched\nacross and strips of banana pith knotted on to it, hanging down like\nkippers put out to dry. The King was rather too powerful with his\nracquets; scouts had to be posted like fielders at cricket. Seeing the\nball coming he made a desperate plunge toward it and either missed it\naltogether or slogged it as if intended for Ruwenzori\u2019s snows. So he\ngave that up for football; the dimensions of the ball I suppose appealed\nto him as being more adapted to his size. He is now a great player; his\ngrief is that he has never experienced the excitement of a scrimmage, as\nthe men are afraid of hustling their King; the only member of the team\nwho apparently does not mind doing so is Blasiyo, the pigmy! Another\nreason is that there is little chance of getting too close, as he is\nfollowed about the field by one attendant who holds an umbrella over his\nhead and another man careers about with a chair, so that His Majesty can\nrest when the ball goes in an opposite direction of the field to where he\nhappens to be.\n\nIn all Church work, Kasagama has been a leader and example to his people.\nAlmost daily, at 8 a.m. as the people gather from all directions for\nBible Classes or school teaching, a procession may be seen slowly issuing\nout from the reed enclosure that surrounds the royal palace. With a large\ncompany of retainers and an armed bodyguard at the front and rear, on his\nbay steed rides the King, a fine majestic figure, 28 years of age, and\n6ft. 3in. in height. The Katikiro and other important Chiefs, with their\nattendants, if they have not already started, come out from their houses\non their side of the King\u2019s hill, and fall in behind His Majesty. They\nare bent on no Ministerial business, but if you were to ask the King,\nhe would say \u201cto learn wisdom from God, for how can I rightly rule my\ncountry without having first received that.\u201d\n\nWhen the drum beats for Sunday services, Kasagama is nearly always at\nhis place in the church to join with his people in prayer and worship.\nBesides encouraging his young men and chiefs to offer themselves as\nmissionaries to the neighbouring villages and districts, he helps in\nevery possible way to supply the necessary means in order that the native\norganisations shall be supported by themselves. When the large reed\nChurch showed signs of old age, Daudi Kasagama, like his namesake David,\nKing of Israel, set his heart to \u201cbuild a house unto the name of the\nLord.\u201d\n\nCalling together his Christian Chiefs, he conferred with the Missionaries\nas to the quantities of material needed for a large Church, and when the\napproximate number of poles was given, he divided it up asking his Chiefs\neach to be responsible for a proportion.\n\nThe new \u201cTemple\u201d was not to be built of carefully-hewn stone, prepared\nbricks, or granite pillars, but of forest poles brought from long\ndistances, many needing fifty men to carry them in; bamboos from the\nforest-clad heights of snow-peaked Ruwenzori; grass brought in by the\nwomen for thatching; reeds fetched from the swamps by men and children,\nand red mud for the walls. Every morning the King came down to work with\nhis people in the erection of the building, and when the framework was\ncompleted, helped to bring in the grass which was cut up and beaten with\nthe mud to form a kind of solid brick wall.\n\n[Illustration: NEW CHURCH. KABAROLE TORO.]\n\nAt 8.0 a.m. the Katikiro, Chiefs and others made their way down to the\nmud pits, into which there was thrown red earth, straw and water. About\ntwenty men then would jump in, clasp arms in a circle, yell a native\nair and stamp the mud with their bare feet till the right consistency\nwas reached. By that time they had become splashed and disfigured into\nfearsome representations of painted Red Indians. The mud was then put\ninto baskets and shouldered by a body of carriers, who marched single\nfile to the scene where the building operations were being carried on,\nwhile a drummer always went on before to give a spirit of militarism to\nthe work.\n\nWith shirt sleeves rolled up, Kasagama and an army of mud-layers were\nready to receive the mud and slap it into the walls with a whoop and\noccasional mutual congratulatory exclamation \u201cWehale\u201d\u2014\u201cwell done.\u201d\n\nIn this manner the Church, holding eight hundred people, was completed\nin six months free of debt and not having caused any expense to the\nMissionary Society!\n\nWhen it is remembered that until the advent of Christianity six years\nprevious, the King and Chiefs had never done one day\u2019s manual work, one\ncan only regard this Church as a standing testimony to the reality of\na religion that can call forth such a spontaneous demonstration of the\nsincerity of its disciples.\n\nOne day while watching the unmistakable earnestness of the men at their\ntoil, I turned to Kasagama and said: \u201cKing, your people are really\nenjoying their hard work.\u201d He replied: \u201cOh no, my people have not yet\narrived at liking work, but they are rejoicing because this is God\u2019s\nhouse.\u201d\n\nPending the arrival of the Bishop, an informal dedication service was\narranged on the first Sunday of its completion. The Church was packed\nfrom end to end, the men on one side led by their King, the women on\nthe other with the Queen Damali. A great stillness fell on that large\ncongregation as King Daudi, who scarcely ever takes an active part in the\nservices, rose and offered up a prayer of Consecration. In it he said: \u201cO\nGod, we know Thou dwellest not in temples made with hands, but this House\nhas been built with our hearts\u2019 devotion; therefore come down and take up\nThy dwelling place, that sinners entering may be saved by Thy presence.\u201d\n\nKasagama in his time has played several \u201cparts.\u201d Two days after the\nopening of the new Church, he was called upon to fill a position in a\nnovel function for Toro, namely, the first European wedding. A great\ndeal of excitement had prevailed for some time among the people, and\nwhisperings of the unique event had filtered through to the villages,\nbringing a large number of people into the capital out of curiosity. It\nwas a beautiful clear morning, and before sunrise the bride designate was\nneedlessly reminded of the day by a loud shuffling and scurrying going\non outside her calico window. The Katikiro\u2019s loud baritone was heard\ncommanding a regiment of workmen, and by way of creating an excitement in\nthe proceedings, he accompanied his orders by eloquent aerial cracks with\nhis whip of hippo hide.\n\nIn order to have a share in the festive preparations they had come down\nto strew fresh cut grass all round the house, in the courtyard and along\nthe road to the church. On the preceding days, the chiefs\u2019 wives, headed\nby the Queen, had been with their spades levelling the mud floor in the\nscarcely completed church and carpeting it with soft green grass. It was\na welcome substitute of nature for the customary red felt drugget, and\nno one would have exchanged for canvas awning the archway of palm leaves\nand bushy papyrus grass heads that adorned the verandah and porch leading\nfrom the house.\n\nAll the Europeans in Toro were invited\u2014they numbered five\u2014and each had\nan allotted task. One performed the ceremony, another stood as best\nman, the organist pedalled away nobly at the portable baby organ and\neven persuaded it to produce the Wedding March creditably. There was one\nbridesmaid, and the fifth took the part of \u201cguest.\u201d\n\nAt 9.0 a.m. the church drums beat, and King Kasagama, dressed in a cloud\nof white and elaborate silk draperies, came down to act \u201cfather\u201d to the\nbride. His Majesty looked almost pale with the responsibility of his new\nposition, and scarcely trusted himself to speak as he took his \u201cchild\u2019s\u201d\nhand and led her from the house along the road lined with crowds of his\nexcited people. The church presented a sea of black faces and white\nlinen garments freshly washed for the occasion. Everyone was standing,\nfor there was no room to sit down. A Lunyoro hymn was sung, and then the\nservice proceeded in English till the close, when the faithful old native\ndeacon Apolo offered prayer in the language of the people.\n\nThe usual carriages and greys had to be dispensed with as the livery\nstables were a little too far off! But a regulation reception took place\nand about seventy guests crowded into the very limited space of the\nEuropean\u2019s sitting room. A real iced cake specially imported, was mounted\non a stool draped with trails of wild clematis. Heaped up dishes of\nthick sandwiches, stodgy jam tarts, cakes and biscuits, that suggested a\nSunday School treat for at least some hundreds of hungry English bairns,\nproved a scarcely adequate supply for the visitors, who started on the\ncake, then tucked in sandwiches, jam tarts and sandwiches again, and so\non, in a hopeless mix up. The tea was served round time after time, till\nthe guests, out of sheer inability, had reluctantly to refuse further\nsupplies. One chief, with a sigh, regretfully eyeing a dish of cake,\nexclaimed: \u201cOkwongera nukwo kufa\u201d\u2014\u201cAny more would be death.\u201d\n\nAs the guests departed, timidly limped forward old Mpisi, the first\ndispensary patient. He had been silently waiting his opportunity to slip\nin and give the bride his little wedding gift of five cowrie shells:\ntheir value was one-third of a farthing, but they were all he possessed.\n\nThe honeymoon was spent \u201con the Continent\u201d\u2014the dark continent of\nAfrica, a trip of about 700 miles, across lake and over land, visiting\na continual succession of mission stations. It included a visit to the\nGovernment Capital of Entebbe, where an official repetition of the\nmarriage service had to be performed. Fancy being married twice within\none month!\n\nAs the happy pair rode off on mules, actually the customary rice followed\nthem. A mob of natives enjoyed this part immensely; but some of the women\nran up, and tearing the bracelets and necklaces from their own wrists and\nnecks, gave them to the bride with sympathetic tears!\n\nEven the slipper was not wanting; it was delivered to a native to throw\nat the couple as they turned off at cross-roads, but not quite seeing the\npoint, and having a respectful regard for the shoe, he solemnly presented\nit as a parting greeting from the Europeans!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nThe Women of Toro\n\n\nAlthough undoubtedly belonging to one and the same parent stock, as a\nrace the Batoro are in features superior to the Baganda, but physically\ninferior owing to the different conditions under which their lives\nhave been lived. Women, both high and low, until within recent years,\nwere practically the slaves of the Baganda households, and even now\nare expected to do the cultivating and cooking of the food. Before the\nsun has risen the Baganda women start on their digging in their banana\nplantations or potato fields. This has developed their muscles and at the\nsame time had a healthy effect on the mind, for no one can handle nature\nwithout consciously or unconsciously being influenced by it for good.\n\nThe Batoro women, on the other hand, have been merely the chattels of\nthe home. The upper classes scorned menial work and left it to their\ndependents and peasant folk. The middle class did no more than was\nabsolutely essential, which generally resolved itself into cooking the\none meal for the day. Their homes offered no occupation for them. The\nrude grass huts possessed no furnishing, for their wants were of the\nsimplest. Bark cloth stripped off the wild fig tree and beaten out into\na soft texture, or animals skins, provided them with clothing by day\nand covering at night. Their water vessels consisted of the hollowed\nout gourds that grow round their huts. One cooking pot sufficed for the\nhousehold. A plaited grass mat took the place of mattress over a bed of\nreeds strung across a wooden framework and built in along the side of\nthe hut. Grass covered the floor of every house\u2014seldom changed and never\naired. Soot and cobwebs hung in festoons round the inside, as there are\nno chimneys in the huts to carry away the smoke from the open fire in the\ncentre of the floor.\n\nIn recent years the upper class women have discarded the bark-cloth as\napparel for white calico and coloured prints. When these garments show\nsigns of wear the general custom is neither to wash nor change them for\nfear of hastening their end, but clean draperies are thrown over them\nwhen the wearer appears in public.\n\nSome of the women can work very prettily with grass and fibre. Having\ndiscovered various vegetable dyes, they are able to make very attractive\ndesigns in basket-work by dyeing the grass different colours. The fibre\nthey make into string and then form beautiful knotted bags in which they\nhave their gourds. It was only by living some time among them that we\ndiscovered these hidden trophies of a spasmodic industry. Very few care\nabout rousing themselves and devoting the time and care needed for this\nwork; the fault of the women is their inherent laziness; the generality\nof them desire nothing so much as to sit still and do absolutely\nnothing. They are so fond of begging, begging, begging, but when you\nsuggest their _working_, off they go and you never see them any more.\nOthers will remain in their homes ill for days, and no one will have the\nenergy to come down and ask for medicine. An industrial exhibition was\nsuggested by two of our missionaries in 1903, and will be held every\nyear, it is hoped. Most ingenious bee-hives and rat traps were brought\nin as exhibits, besides all sorts of grass and string work, painted bark\ncloths and gourds, and so on. The novelty of the exhibition caused great\nexcitement among the people, and the schoolroom was packed to its utmost\ncapacity with competitors and others. His Majesty, Daudi Kasagama, opened\nthe proceedings with an earnest appeal to his people to make the show an\neven greater success next time by increasing the number of exhibits and\nraising the standard of proficiency.\n\n[Illustration: THE BATORO AT HOME.\n\n_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]\n\nBefore the advent of Christianity there had been nothing to break the\ndull monotony of the women\u2019s existence. As they sat, day after day,\nhuddled together in their dirty little grass homes, their conversation\nscarcely ever ventured outside the well-beaten track of real or imaginary\nsickness, and the usual revolting topics that polygamy and heathenism\nsuggest. Modesty, reserve, shame and sensitiveness were not known among\nthem. One\u2019s whole nature recoils from the recollection of Africa\u2019s lost\nwomanhood.\n\nGirls are sometimes betrothed as infants but do not marry till they have\nreached the age of 14 or 15. The husband is judged rarely according to\nhis merit\u2014that receives small consideration\u2014but chiefly according to his\nmeans. The girl\u2019s value is determined by her rank or physical appearance.\nHer parents or master fix her price at so many heads of cattle or goats.\nA peasant woman can be had as cheap as one goat; should the husband be\nfortunate enough, in course of time, to possess a sheep or second goat,\nhe will sometimes take it and his wife and exchange them for a stronger\nand better woman who will be able to do more work for him, or add more\nvariety, quality or quantity to the day\u2019s menu. A peasant, living on the\nmission hill, married one of our women, and coming to the missionary in\ncharge, fell down on his knees and eloquently praised him for his gift of\npotatoes, bananas, and beans. The European looked rather perplexed, and\nat last had to own up that the present had not come from him. \u201cOh yes,\nMaster,\u201d answered the man, \u201cit was you who gave me my wife.\u201d\n\nWhen we arrived in Toro in 1900 there was quite a goodly number of\nbaptised women, including Vikitoliya, the Queen Mother, Damali, the\nQueen, several of the Chiefs\u2019 wives and ladies of the royal households.\nSeveral of these had been taught to read before the arrival of the\nEuropean missionary, by King Kasagama, who was baptised in 1896 during\na prolonged visit to Uganda. On his return to Toro he had become a true\nmissionary King, and gathering his women around him day after day in his\ncourtyard he instructed them in the things he had been taught, while the\nmen went to the two Baganda Evangelists in the little reed church.\n\nWhen the European missionary arrived he found a large body of eager\nwomen as well as men, ready to be prepared for Baptism. Vikitoliya was\none of the first whose heart responded to the new religion of love and\nholiness, as she listened to the earnest words of the King\u2014her son. She\nis a woman of considerable influence and of decided intellectual ability.\nHer features present none of the negrotic characteristics, but on the\ncontrary they are sharply defined and somewhat aquiline; her expression,\nsweet and pleasing, betokens her kindness of heart and gentleness of\ndisposition. She has built for herself an imposing two-storied mud house\nwith a verandah and balcony all round. From the inside doorway hang reed\nand bead curtains which she made herself after seeing a Japanese model in\na European\u2019s house.\n\nShe lives about two miles from the capital, and in order to encourage\nher people to learn to read and attend daily Bible classes she erected\non her estate a church, which holds about 400 people. I rode over there\none Sunday morning as I had been asked to stand as godmother to the first\nlittle son of the sister of the King. When I arrived the Church was\ncrowded\u2014it is a large cane building, with innumerable poles inside to\nsupport the walls and roof. It contains no stained glass windows, but the\nblue cloudless sky, tall, waving banana trees, and the graceful grasses\nof the Indian corn with its golden heads of grain, made a charming\nbackground to the aperture windows and helped the soul in its flight\ntoward God perhaps more than such exquisitely elaborate windows as are\nseen at Notre Dame, which always struck me with their rich colouring. At\nthe west end stood the font, a black native pot fixed to a wooden packing\ncase which was draped in Turkey twill. Who could help being impressed as\nthe words \u201cSuffer the little children to come unto me\u201d sounded out in the\nforeign tongue, and a sweet, wee thing, lying on white flannel worked\nwith pink silk, was brought forward by its delighted royal grandmother.\nAt the east end were spread the sacred memorials of our Redemption,\nspeaking with such force of that one Sacrifice which uplifts and unites\nall nations under Heaven.\n\nVikitoliya possessed a peculiar love and reverence for our late Queen,\nafter whom she was named. She never tired of listening to stories of\nthe \u201cgreat white Queen,\u201d and it was her ambition to strive to be to her\npeople something of what Her late Majesty had been to her subjects.\nNever shall I forget her grief and that of all the leading women when\nthe news of her death reached us. Immediately they came down to us to\nsympathize, and were at first quite silent in their grief, then with\ntears running down her cheeks, the dusky Queen subject said, \u201cYour sorrow\nis our sorrow, we have lost our Mother, our friend.\u201d It is wonderful the\ninfluence that such a reign of purity and righteousness has had even on\nfar off Africa, rousing the best chivalry and patriotism in the hearts of\nits people, and inspiring them to nobler ends.\n\nChristianity is doing for Toro what it has done for every other country\nwhere it has effectually entered\u2014it is raising its women from their\ndepths of degradation and beautifying their lives, cleansing and refining\ntheir speech and habits. Clean, tidy homes are now seen, and carefully\ncultivated land in place of the pestilential filth and gaunt elephant\ngrass. Happy family life is springing up among the people, and everywhere\nthere is a stir and progressive vigour.\n\nUpon the Christian women as well as the men has been laid the\nresponsibility of doing something toward spreading the knowledge of\nChrist among the surrounding heathen. At first a district visitors\u2019\nband was organized to go two and two into the near villages when the\ndaily classes in the church were over. They took their books, and either\ncollected the villagers together or entered their houses and taught them\ntheir letters and syllables, after having read and spoken to them. I used\nfrequently to go out with them to see what progress they were making;\na shrieking bodyguard would at once attach itself to me under pretence\nof frightening the wild animals off! Our arrival was always hailed\nwith delight, and a dirty mat that acts as bed, couch, and footscraper\nwas generally politely placed for me on which to be seated. The small\nchildren generally showed their appreciation of the white lady by opening\ntheir commodious mouths as wide as possible and screaming prodigiously.\nIt took one a very long time to find them attractive, they so sadly\nneeded a rub down with Pears\u2019 soap or Monkey Brand.\n\nSometimes I found 100 or 150 natives eagerly struggling with their\nreading sheets, all squeezed into an infinitesimally small hut. Somehow\nthey always found room for the European, for they were very impatient to\nbe questioned by her and passed on to a higher class. When the reading\nlesson was over we used to have a short service with them, and it was\nexceedingly impressive to listen sometimes to the young Christian women\nspeaking to them naturally of Christ\u2019s love. They never attempted an\nimpossible address or delivered a thorough out-and-out sermon, but with\ntouching simplicity told in their own language what was a living and\nreal thing to them. It seemed impossible to believe that so wonderful a\nchange could have taken place in these Batoro women in so short a time.\nWhen the visit was over, all the women, children, and some of the men\nused to tear off in front to the neighbouring huts to inform them that\nthe European was passing, so on my homeward journey I was accompanied by\nexcited, chattering men and women and a crowd of naked little folk, many\nof them bringing small offerings of flowers, beans, or eggs to deposit at\nour door.\n\nAlthough these folk can make plenty of noise they can make very little\nmusic. They have never been educated up to it. The royal band has been\ntheir only conservatoire of music, and their few songs were connected\nwith drink or plunder, themes scarcely conducive to the highest poetry.\nBut their singing is great. You should have heard a singing class I used\nto have on Saturday mornings. About twenty of the ladies used to turn\nup and exercise their vocal powers. They only knew a few of Sankey\u2019s\nmost unmusical hymns, and to these they resigned themselves with a fixed\nexpression and still more fixed attitude, without making the slightest\nfacial movement. They produced a curious grunt through their nasal organ,\nquite irrespective of time, key, or tune. I sacrificed myself to making\nthe most hideous grimaces it is possible to form my features into, in\norder that they might imitate, and so bring a few muscles into action.\nBut neither tonic sol-fa nor any other tonic would bring about results,\nso I gave up the class very hoarse from my efforts.\n\nIn August of each year is held in Toro a Teachers\u2019 Conference. All other\nwork is suspended and the native teachers come in from all the villages\nand distant districts. In 1901 we decided to invite the women who were\nchurch members, so that a united Women\u2019s Conference might be held for the\ndeepening of spiritual life, and discussing methods of work.\n\nWe had three separate meetings for women, at each of which a native and\na European spoke. The subjects treated were:\u20141st Meeting\u2014The work of\nteaching for Baptism and Communion\u2014its methods and responsibilities. 2nd\nMeeting\u2014The work of visiting and teaching in the gardens\u2014its methods\nand its importance. 3rd Meeting\u2014The organization of women\u2019s work, and\nfarewell word.\n\nOn the last day, at the close of a very solemn afternoon gathering,\none woman rose from among the large number present, and in a trembling\nvoice said, \u201cMy heart pains me for those around in darkness, and I want\nto go and teach them of Christ\u2019s love.\u201d A great stillness fell on the\nmeeting, and Damali, the Queen, scarcely able to steady her voice, closed\nin prayer, thanking God for having called one from among them to be a\nmissionary and asking that others might hear the voice. On the third day\nnine more women had come to offer themselves as missionaries. One was\nAna Kageye, the head woman of the Royal household, one of the leading\nwomen of the country. Before coming to us she had been to the King, and\nreceived his permission for her to leave him for God\u2019s service. She had,\nbefore her conversion, led a desperately wicked life, and, being old and\nso steeped in witchcraft, one almost supposed her to be beyond the power\nof reformation. She had first heard of Christ from Kasagama\u2019s lips, and\nalthough her eyes were then getting somewhat dim with age, she learned\nfrom the King to read the Bible for herself. From that time a complete\nchange came over her whole life and appearance, so that her scarred face\nbecame quite attractive. Since then she had proved a most indefatigable\nteacher and helper in all Church work.\n\nA class was at once arranged for instructing these candidates morning\nand afternoon for six months in St. Matthew, St. John, Acts, the Pauline\nEpistles, and a sketch of Old Testament history. At the end of that\nperiod they were examined for one whole week. During that time their\nexcitement and anxiety were strained to their highest pitch; they refused\nto eat at mid-day for fear they might become incapable of hard thinking,\nand were found in their places at class nearly one hour before the\nappointed time. After the first week old Ana Kageye took pity on their\ntroubled appearances, and insisted they should all go to her house after\nthe morning class and she would give them a substantial meal. Out of\ntwelve who were questioned two reached ninety-eight per cent. marks and\nthe lowest did not fall below seventy-five per cent. After that they\nwere brought before the Native Church Council and ten were assigned to\nstations. Two (one being Ana Kageye) were located as foreign missionaries\nto distant Ankole, two to a hill station four days\u2019 journey away on a\nsouthern ridge of Ruwenzori, and the remaining six villages two and\nthree days away. This was a brave step for these Batoro women to take,\nafter having led such indolent and sheltered lives, and in spite of the\nintense joy that filled their heads, they did not leave without tears in\ntheir eyes as they bade good-bye to all their friends for the first time.\nSurely they teach a lesson to many in favoured England who have not yet\nfaced their personal responsibility to the unreached heathen.\n\nAll of these first women teachers did splendidly. After six months\u2019 work\nthey returned for a few weeks, as no native worker is allowed to remain\nat his post without coming in for occasional rest and restrengthening.\nThe deadly influences of heathenism might prove too strong for such young\nChristians if they were to live away from helpful surroundings. Eight of\nthe ten again returned to their work, and the other two were married and\nafterwards went out as teachers with their husbands.\n\nAna Kageye at first found the women of Ankole eager to learn to read, but\nnot so quick to believe the new religion she brought to them. One day a\nyoung Princess fell sick, and their own cures failing she was carried up\nto the European doctor temporarily stationed at the Government fort. When\nit was declared by him to be almost a hopeless case the natives gave up\nall idea of her recovery, saying that if the white man could not cure her\nnothing would.\n\nGood, brave old Ana then came forward and told them again of the Living\nGod who hears and answers prayer, and they answered together \u201cIf your God\nwill heal her we will believe.\u201d The young dying Princess was thereupon\ncarried to Ana\u2019s little grass house, and as night fell the fires died\ndown in every hut but the one in which the sick girl lay, and all night\nlong the faithful old servant of God, as she watched by the bedside,\nwrestled in prayer for the life before her. What a wonderful act of faith\nwas witnessed that night in the little hut in Darkest Africa! This woman\nso recently brought to know God even dared through faith to prove her God\nbefore these heathen. As the day dawned the women gathered round the hut\nexpecting to mourn over the dead body, but the God of Life had come forth\nand revealed His power, the girl\u2019s unconsciousness had passed off and\nshe had taken the first step to recovery. The result was that after Ana\nhad been working there nine months she had instructed and prepared for\nbaptism the first five women of Ankole.\n\nIs it not worth leaving home and friends to search among the dust and\nmire of that dark Continent and find such gems, even if they be but few?\n\u201cThey shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up\nmy jewels.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nChild Life\n\n\nChild life! How immediately our minds linger over happy scenes of mirth\nand innocent laughter, romping, rollicking games of mischief or of fun.\nBright, happy childhood! No cloud of care and trouble has arisen on\nlife\u2019s horizon, and sin has not yet tainted the atmosphere of Heaven that\nstill lingers round its offspring.\n\nBut where can memory rest upon such a picture as that in darkest Africa?\nLook upon a tree, the tender buds of which half fearfully peep through\nthe bare branches just to catch a glimpse of the outer world, when a cold\nfrost blast of winter strikes across the frail young life and withers\nit for ever. That is child life in Africa. Innocence and purity were\nwithered just as they dared to step from infancy. Happy, careless mirth\nwas crushed with the weight of the burdens laid upon the shoulders of\nchildhood. Their mother\u2019s home, as has been described, was their earliest\nenvironment, their language was learned from her, and then lovelessness\nwas the children\u2019s portion, as they were sent away as servants or slaves\nto neighbouring chiefs. Parents scorned the idea of bringing up their own\nchildren; they affirmed that a child would never listen to its parent and\nwould refuse to work, so they exchanged their children at the age of four\nor five years for others who would be as slaves to them. Even at this\ntender age they were taught to gather the sticks and twigs, and then sit\nby and feed the fire while the food was cooking, or they carried the\ngourds or pots on their little woolly pates down to the river to draw\nthe daily supply of water. They were generally fearfully neglected and\nunderfed; their dislike to water was accounted for by the fact that they\npossessed no clothing and the dirt kept them warm. If anyone had been\nborn with a leaning towards cleanliness his mother would have effectually\ncrushed this by the cold water treatment administered during infantile\nablutions. It was the custom every morning between 4.0 and 5.0 a.m., when\nthe cold night air still clung in damp mists to the land, to hold the\nbabies naked out in the courtyards, throw cold water over them, and then\nleave them out to dry.\n\nTheir little insides were treated with no greater consideration. One\nmorning a woman brought down to the dispensary a wee morsel of three\nweeks: it was a pitiful little object of mere skin and bone. The mother\nexplained that it had either been poisoned out of spite, or it was\npossessed of an evil spirit. \u201cSee,\u201d said she, \u201cI have done all I could to\nlet out the poison or devil.\u201d Looking at its body I saw it was covered\nwith a number of small, deep cuts, and the blood had been left to dry.\nLow moans and a tired cry came from the poor little helpless mite as the\nflies tortured its mutilated body. After questioning the mother the \u201cevil\nspirit\u201d took the form of bananas and mushrooms that she had been bringing\nthe three weeks\u2019 infant up on! Feeding bottles were an unknown luxury,\nand as no equivalent had been invented, babies were compelled to lap from\nthe hand, an art they never properly learned and thrived very poorly\non. Some three dozen india rubber \u201ccomforters\u201d were sent out to me, and\nthese I managed to fix on empty ink bottles or medicine bottles, and so a\nnew-fashioned \u201cAllenbury\u201d feeder was introduced. The demand far exceeded\nthe supply, so they could only be lent out by the month. \u201cStephens\u2019 Ink\u201d\nwould have been immensely pleased could it have snapshotted the babies\nbeing solemnly fed in church with its bottles held to their mouths.\n\nCertainly it was a case of the survival of the fittest with the Toro\ninfants, and as the \u201cfittest\u201d were few and far between, mortality was\nvery great among them.\n\nThe first two dolls that arrived in Toro met with a very mixed welcome;\nthe children howled and fled in terror, but their mothers showed a most\nprofound admiration for them. At first they held the doll very gingerly\nand at a distance, as if in fear of being bewitched, but finding that\nnothing happened to either one or the other, and the doll still smiled\nat them like the Cheshire cat, they became great friends and begged that\nthey might borrow it for a few days to play with.\n\nWhether it was the large circulation that those two dolls got, or the\ngradually increasing confidence of the Toro children in the white\nladies, the fact remains that in a few months all childish prejudice had\ndisappeared, and often a little voice was heard asking for \u201ca child that\ncauses play.\u201d When this was known in England over 100 dolls were sent to\nme from two working parties. I never saw such a wonderful doll show as\nthey made. They were all displayed on our verandah, and the house was\nliterally besieged with men, women, and children for some days.\n\nA bride, beautifully dressed in white satin and kid shoes, who, even in\nher wedding attire, cried \u201cMama\u201d and \u201cPapa,\u201d was sent to little Princess\nRuth, but the report reached me that King Kasagama had constituted\nhimself guardian, and kept it locked up in his study for slack moments!\nThe Mother Queen wrote an imploring letter to me for a dainty little\nParisienne who arrived with her travelling trunk; and Apolo, our faithful\nnative deacon\u2014confirmed bachelor\u2014asked me in secret if men ever played\nwith dolls, and beamed with satisfaction as he most triumphantly carried\none off, peacefully sleeping.\n\nThe others were given out to the little girls who had been most regular\nat the school, and were noted for having come with clean faces and bodies.\n\nWhen the boys saw that the dolls were only given to girls, some borrowed\ntheir sisters\u2019 garments to try and appear eligible! I did not know till\nthen they were versed in such cunning! It was so pretty to watch the\njoy and even playfulness that those dolls brought into the lives of\nso many little ones who had scarcely known what this meant till then.\nChristianity has completely revolutionized child-life in Toro. No longer\nare the new-born babes given over to the Devil by causing their blood\nto flow as a dedicatory offering; the teeth are not now extracted to\npropitiate the Evil One, and happy family circles are seen in place of\nslavery.\n\nI am sure in no Sunday School in England is there brighter singing than\namong the Toro infants when about 200 of them, with very lusty lungs,\nopen their rather prominent mouths and sing \u201cThere\u2019s a Friend for little\nchildren above the bright blue sky.\u201d\n\nCertainly the girls and boys make very clever little domestics. I have\nsometimes wondered whether the problem of the over-taxed English market\ncould not be solved by exporting some of these small people. I had a\nlittle maid named Keturah, who was 12 years of age, and she could almost\nmanage the work of a housemaid and parlourmaid. She kept my room in\nperfect order, carefully putting away anything left about, and cleaned it\nregularly every Saturday. On Mondays she carried off the soiled linen,\nwashing, starching, and ironing it as well as I had been able to teach\nher; and she could wait at table like a Gatti\u2019s waiter! Was that not\nsplendid for a little girl who had come to us without ever having seen an\nEnglish bed, garment, knife, fork, or iron?\n\nOf course, one has occasionally to put up with small inconveniences.\nOne day a pair of boots were sent out to be dried by the fire, with\nstrict injunctions not to leave or scorch them. In a few minutes they\nwere brought in with a big hole burnt out of the leather, and the\nsole shrivelled up beyond repair\u2014and these were a last pair! Pocket\nhandkerchiefs frequently find their way into the boiled starch, a white\nmuslin blouse sometimes loses its identity completely by a strong dose\nof the blue-bag; if it is needed for a special occasion the quantity\nis increased! A flannel nightgown was boiled for three hours on one\noccasion; fortunately it was a very unattractive Jaeger, but even then\nit did not surrender its colour. That shade of flannel is like the\nEthiopian\u2019s skin\u2014I could never even get it to fade. Take my advice, and\ntry white instead.\n\nBut, after all, these are mere details. They are faithful little people,\nand would never refuse to follow their master as he travels up and down\nthe country, though they scarcely ever escape malaria when marching\nthrough fever districts, in spite of strong doses of quinine. Often\nconcealing a high temperature from the European, they hurry on in front\nto see that his tent and a refreshing cup of tea are ready when he comes\ninto camp. As we travelled down to Uganda, on our way home to England,\nour staff of six boys started out with us; one after another knocked\nover, and had to be carried back, till we were left with only two to do\neverything for us, and in spite of their being ill, they insisted on\ncoming as far as Victoria Nyanza. As the big lake steamer weighed anchor\nand cut through the water, two little white caps were waving at the end\nof the pier until we disappeared from sight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nReligion\n\n\nCentral Africa may be said to have no religion, if by that we understand\nbelief in a God. It has produced no Buddha or Mahommed to make known\nto its people some revelation of a deity, neither has it possessed any\nancient writings that a Confucius could bind together as a foundation\nto a nation\u2019s creed. In its belief we see the most pitiable product\nof a dark, ignorant, and degraded mind, that, left to itself, has\nworked out some antidote for that which is inherent in every man\u2014an\nindefinable longing after the spiritual. Its faith bears in it the seeds\nof inevitable decay, for in its tenets can be found no trace of truth,\npurity, or holiness, which, varying however much they may in degree,\nhold together the great religious systems of the world. It might be\ndescribed briefly as Devil-worship or the Propitiation of Evil Spirits;\nit differs in its rites and rituals among the various tribes. In Uganda\nthe practices of the people were more extreme, perhaps, but certainly\nless torturing than in the Western Provinces of the Protectorate, where\nsuperstition led to the most barbarous infliction of human suffering from\nthe cradle to the grave. For every real or imaginary evil and sickness\nthat fell upon the individual, family, or community, branding, cutting,\nand mutilation of the body took place; while, without exception, all\nthe front teeth in the lower jaw were extracted as soon as ever they\nappeared.\n\nThese customs, practised for so many generations, have had a very\ndeteriorating effect on the physical constitution of the people. The\nstrength of the natives has been sapped, their minds degraded, and their\nenergies crushed. They possess very small physical resources, and fall an\neasy prey to any sickness that visits their district.\n\nA few years ago, before the teachers of Christianity reached their\ncountry, tiny devil temples, made of grass and twigs, stood in the\ncourtyards of the houses, and in these were placed, from time to time,\nofferings of cowrie shells or food. One day there was brought to me at\nthe dispensary a child who was said to be devil-possessed. The physic\nprescribed was so far successful that the grateful mother brought a\nlittle thank-offering. It consisted of ten cowrie shells tied round a\nsmall piece of papyrus stalk. When the child had fallen ill, the mother\nhad tied one of these shells to the strip of grass and given it as a\npropitiatory offering to the devil; as the sickness increased, each day\nanother shell was added, until, finding her child become rather worse\nthan better, she brought her down to the dispensary. And as the European\nhad done what the devil refused to do, the woman took the shells away\nfrom him and gave them to the white lady!\n\nGenerally speaking, the people are in partial or total ignorance of their\nbelief; they have never been taught it, and practise the rituals from\nhabit without realising their significance. The priests prescribe what\nform the offerings shall take and their claims are never questioned;\nbesides this, they extort heavy fees each time they are consulted. They\nprofess to divine the will of the evil spirit by means of charms made of\nsticks, hide, horns, and the entrails of fowls and goats. When Kasagama\nwas brought from Budu by Sir Frederick Lugard to be re-installed in his\nkingdom of Toro, from which he had fled, as a young prince, from the\nraiding bands of Bunyoro under King Kabarega, a white fowl was killed\nand examined. The priest declared the omen augured that success and peace\nshould attend his reign. But Kasagama, being unacquainted with what they\nhad done, nearly brought upon himself the worst misfortune by approaching\nnear to the grave of the fowl. Had not his attendants just stopped him\nfrom walking over the grave a moral offence would have been perpetrated\nupon the body of the fowl and its spirit would have avenged the wrong!\n\nBy carefully clearing away the accumulated legends of centuries, one\nfinds, however, faint suggestions of a purer belief, which reminds one of\na saying by an Indian monarch, who lived in the 3rd century B.C., \u201cThe\nsap of all religions is alike.\u201d\n\nThere are a few Batoro whose memory recalls their primitive belief,\nwhich, despite the contortions which time and repetition have effected,\nbear a recognisable similarity to Old Testament revelations.\n\nAt the beginning of all history they say God and his brother Nkya were in\nthe world and made all things. Nkya had three sons whom he brought to God\nto be named, and in order to do so He proved the heart of each man. When\nthe sons were brought in at night, to each of the sons was given a pot\nfull of milk and God ordered them to take care of it until the morning.\nAt midnight the youngest dozed and some of his milk got spilled; then he\nturned to his brothers and asked them to fill up his pot with a little\nfrom each of theirs, and this they did. After a short time the elder son\nknocked over his pot and all the milk was spilled out. Then he begged the\nothers to give him of theirs, but they refused, saying, \u201cAnd what shall\nwe do?\u201d When the night had passed God came and uncovered each of the milk\npots. To the second son he said, \u201cWhere is your milk?\u201d And he answered,\n\u201cThe youngest\u2019s milk was spilled and I filled up his pot.\u201d And to the\neldest God said, \u201cAnd yours?\u201d He replied, \u201cI slept and mine was all upset\nand I asked my brothers to give me of theirs but they refused.\u201d Then God\ncursed him and called him Kairu (a little servant), saying that he should\nbecome his brothers\u2019 servant. And God said to the youngest, \u201cYou shall\nbe called Kakama (Little King), you shall rule all people, you shall be\nKing, and your second brother shall live with you and be your minister.\u201d\n\nAfter this God took counsel with his brother that they should leave the\nworld and go to their home in heaven, for there was very great sin in the\nworld, and God did not wish to kill man whom he had created. So God and\nNkya left the world and Kakama was left to rule the people. The Bunyoro\ntrace all their Kings back to this great Monarch.\n\nTheir fifth King was named Kantu, who they say brought punishment and\ndeath into the world. Like his predecessors, he disappeared suddenly, and\nis believed to have gone up to God to beg that disease and death might\nvisit the people. God then spoke with Nkya, his brother, and said it\nwas well people should die and come to life again after four days. But\nNkya said, \u201cLet them die absolutely.\u201d After this the little son of the\nreigning king became ill and died, and the King Isaza sent to God and\nsaid, \u201cMy son will not wake up.\u201d God said, \u201cWhat is his sleep like?\u201d And\nhe replied, \u201cSince lying down to sleep he will not move and he does not\nbreathe.\u201d Then God sent to Isaza and told him to dig a hole and bury the\nchild. But the King did not understand what death was, and as he sat in\nhis house he sought for his son and ordered for him to be brought. But\nhis people told him that he would never again see his son; hearing this\nthe King lifted up his hands and as he stood over the grave he cursed\nall men for the death of his child. For this God plagued his people with\nsickness, but Isaza remained unsoftened, so God sent death to his second\nson.\n\nAfter this the King of Hell sent messages to the King Isaza, tempting\nhim with gifts to make a covenant with him; and after much hesitation\nIsaza yielded and set out with his companion the Moon to visit the King\nof Hell. When he had gone some distance the ground suddenly opened, and\nIsaza was cast down till he reached the gate of Hell, from whence he\nnever returned. Whereupon the moon, grieving over the loss of his royal\nfriend, went up into the sky and has ever remained there.\n\nThe method of these people for making a covenant was that of\nblood-brotherhood.\n\nEach of the two parties took a coffee bean, dipped it in the blood from\na small incision made in his body, then handed it to his companion to\nbe eaten. It was a most sacred pledge of indissoluble union, a breach\nof which met with immediate death. Whoever the King chose to honour\nwith blood brotherhood, was raised to the highest position, regardless\nof his birth or estate. This has often made clear to them the passage,\n\u201cwe who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.\u201d\nIt is said that when the first English official passed through the\nneighbouring country of Ankole, the King and people were in a state\nof great consternation, speculating as to the purport of his visit.\nThe explanations of the Englishmen were not sufficient to allay their\nsuspicions, but on his agreeing to make \u201cblood brotherhood\u201d with the\nKing an understanding was arrived at and the confidence of the people\nestablished.\n\nTheir ideas of an after life seem to have been of the very vaguest.\nTheir belief that the soul continues to exist after death was evident in\nthat they had a great fear of the spirits of the departed. A man on the\ndeath of his wife (or one of them) did not marry again till the body had\ndecayed, for fear of offending the spirit of the dead. Frequently in the\nvillages are to be seen long zig-zag paths leading to the huts that are\nsupposed to baulk the spirits which only travel in straight lines.\n\nBurial takes place immediately after death. The body is wrapped round\nin bark cloths and with it are buried quantities of white calico, bark\ncloths, and blankets, according to the wealth of the chief mourner. When\nthe head of the household dies he is buried in the courtyard of his\nhouse, after which the hut is removed to another spot, so that the spirit\nof the deceased shall not trouble the surviving members of the family.\nWhen the King died the custom was for five women and four men of the\nchief families of the land to be taken by force and buried alive with the\nKing, to complete the number ten, so that he should not be alone. A house\nwas then erected over the grave, and inside the surrounding fence the\nQueen came and lived. Every day at daybreak she went with the keepers of\nthe tomb to clean it down and sweep out the courtyard. They lived on the\nfood and cows stolen from folks passing along on the roads. A man had to\nforfeit all right to anything claimed for the \u201cGasani\u201d (the King\u2019s Tomb),\nand could look for no reparation.\n\nIf a man dies without expressing any wish as to the disposal of his\nbelongings, his brothers, and not the wife and children, inherit them.\nAmong the Bahuma tribe the wife is included in the personalty and is\nhanded over as wife to the brother of the deceased. Our small milk boy,\nof about fourteen years of age, came to me one day with a petition for\na rise in his wages, as he found it difficult to support his wife and\nchildren on his present earnings. He then went on to explain that his\nbrother had died, leaving him to marry the rather elderly wife, who had\ntwo children. I felt the right thing was to sympathise with him, but\nquickly learned my mistake, for he was very well pleased with his legacy,\nwhich gave him a wife to cultivate and cook for him without the usual\npayment of goats and sheep.\n\nThe Batoro have little or no fear of death, in fact some seem rather glad\nto create a little sensation among their friends by becoming for the\ntime the chief object of interest! On one occasion I was called to visit\na dying man in the Namasole\u2019s village. With a little bag of medicine\nstrapped on to my saddle, I rode out to see if anything could be done.\nAn unusual stillness had fallen on everyone, for the sick man was none\nother than the Katikiro of the place. Suddenly, as I stepped up to the\ndoorway of the hut, there arose a wild shriek from inside; this was taken\nup immediately by everyone around and the air was rent with wailings and\nloud, piercing screams\u2014I knew at once my medicine would not be required,\nbut, entering, tried to quiet the frenzied mourners. I drew out from my\nbag the Gospel of St. John, and read the words \u201cI am the Resurrection and\nthe Life.\u201d Immediately the tumult ceased, and everyone listened to the\nmessage of Life spoken in the presence of Death; and as we all knelt in\nprayer one realised perhaps as never before how death hath been swallowed\nup in Victory. One of the greatest joys one can know is to wave the torch\nof Life and Immortality across the darkness of ages that has never known\na hope beyond the grave.\n\nThe result of the people\u2019s belief is stamped unmistakably on almost\neverything in the country. With the lack of physical energy has died\nthe desire to master their country. The rich, productive soil, with its\nabnormal generative properties, has been left uncared for and unkempt,\ntill \u201cthorns also and thistles,\u201d the insignia of a blighted world, cover\na land that might have been a veritable Eden.\n\nTall, tangled weeds creep up to the very doorways of the houses, while\nmost of the roads are merely narrow, beaten tracks. Whenever an attempt\nis made to tackle an appreciable task, a few days suffices to exhaust\nthe labourer completely; at the end of that time he may be seen in a\nstate of total collapse, with a strip of rag bound tightly round the\nhand, the outward and visible sign of being _hors de combat_.\n\nIn Toro one realises at times the dead weight of life and its\nenvironment. The changes of the seasons\u2014spring with the freshness of\ninfancy and vitality of youth; summer decked in the exquisite glory of\na new life; autumn and winter folding tired nature up in a long, deep\nsleep\u2014are sadly missed where the trees are always green. The sympathy\nin nature is lacking; flowers lose their subtle and delicate charm; the\nbright, soft sward is there exchanged for the elephant grass with its\nsaw-like blades. The birds have no song; the voices of music and poetry\nhave never been heard; and as age after age has rolled by, no lip has\nbreathed a prayer to its Creator. There are instances when heathenism\nseems to surround one with such blackness that the soul stands as if\nisolated in a foreign Land, breathing a new atmosphere in which there is\nlacking the spiritual ether of one\u2019s native land.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nLanguage\n\n\nThe language spoken in Toro is Lunyoro, and quite distinct from that used\nin Uganda; but it is undoubtedly the parent dialect and almost identical\nwith that spoken in the Kingdoms of Unyoro and Ankole, besides being very\ngenerally understood by the tribes beyond Ruwenzori.\n\nFor the first three years, Missionary work in these districts was\ncarried on in Luganda, as neither the European nor Baganda teachers\nhad sufficient knowledge of Lunyoro, and there were no books or\nreading-sheets in the language. Luganda was understood by some of the\nupper class men and a few women, but it was scarcely ever spoken, and\nnone of the peasants were acquainted with it. Until these people could\nhave their religion and reading-books in their own tongue, it seemed\nas if vital Christianity must remain more or less outside their actual\nlives. So towards the end of 1899 Mr. Maddox went up to Toro with the\nintention of studying and reducing the language of the people to writing.\n\nWhen we arrived in 1900 a little reading-sheet had been printed, and\nSt. Matthew\u2019s Gospel was in hand. But there was no book or literature\nto help us, and as the natives did not understand one word of English\nit seemed a hopeless difficulty. Miss Pike, my companion, had studied\nLuganda for six months, so was able to speak with those who knew it, and\nthrough interpretation to those who did not. By this means she piloted us\nboth through those first days when the house was thronged with people\nfrom morning till night, and they pelted us with kind remarks and every\nimaginable and unimaginable question. I never felt so absolutely stupid\nas when they addressed me with a torrent of eloquence, until the idea\nstruck me of retaliating with a continuous flow of English. It pleased\nthem immensely, but certainly did not check them.\n\nThe third day after our arrival, Mr. Maddox kindly gave us our first\nlesson in Lunyoro. He was trying to impress on us that the words were\nlargely formed by prefixes and suffixes, so one had only to find the stem\nand it was all right. \u201cTinkakimuherayoga\u201d was obviously, said he, from\nthe verb \u201cokuhu,\u201d to give; find that, the meaning of the word was made\nplain: \u201cI have never given it to him there\u201d! My mind was chaotic, and I\nwondered if it ever would be anything else.\n\nAfter a few weeks our patient teacher had to go off on an itinerating\ntrip, so we were left alone to flounder through the quagmires. I believe\nthe best and quickest way of acquiring a new tongue is to summon up all\nthe courage you possess and go in and out among the people until you\nadopt it much in the same way as an infant does its mother language.\nUndoubtedly it requires pluck. The first time I ventured forth with a\nremark, peals of laughter came from my audience, which almost quenched\nthe one spark of courage left. Afterwards I learned this was a mark of\ntheir appreciation!\n\nIn the fifth month, and after a great deal of hard persuasion, I decided\non attempting to take a daily Bible Class. As the 8.0 morning drum\nsounded and I made my way to the church, my nerve powers fell below\nzero, and I felt decidedly limp. The words \u201cWho hath made man\u2019s mouth; I\nwill be with thy mouth\u201d pulled me together a bit, and I hurried in to my\nclass to find between twenty and thirty women waiting for their teacher.\nTalking for one whole hour was a terrible tax on my vocabulary, and must\nhave been even a greater tax on the endurance of the class. I was quite\ndone when they were in a questioning mood; it would have been bad enough\nif there had been no foreign language to understand. The very first\nmorning they asked me about Michael disputing with Satan over the body of\nMoses!\n\nIt is rather surprising to find that such simple people possess\nso advanced a form of etymology. The parts of speech and general\nconstruction in a broad sense resemble the other dialects of the Bantu\nclass, but the verbs are very complex and more technically developed\nthan its offsprings, Luganda and Swahili. All our English tenses are\nemployed besides several others met with in Greek. Most of these effect\na complete change in the relative form. Verbs practically dominate\nall the other parts of speech; the nouns, with very few exceptions,\nare their parasites. A few straggling prefixes tacked on to the verb\nroot are the only attempts the nouns make toward an individuality of\ntheir own. Adverbs and prepositions are rarely granted an independent\nexistence. They add to the corpulence of the verb by being absorbed\nin it. The perfect harmony between nouns, adjectives, and verbs is a\nveritable man-trap, for a native will rarely understand a discord,\nhowever untutored he may be. Besides grammar and pronunciation, there\nare two other important things to study\u2014the proverbs, and the mode of\nexpressing ideas. The Batoro are not quite so versed in the metaphorical\nform of speech as the Baganda, who are capable of carrying on a lengthy\nconversation in the most mystical and involved proverbs, only quoting the\nfirst two or three words of each, and quite expecting you to imagine the\nrest. I trembled literally when this was first told me, for I had never\nbeen able to get beyond \u201cnever too late to mend\u201d in English proverbs.\nBut Lunyoro is really kinder in this respect. They do, however, exist in\nspasmodic forms. If you want to really win the love and confidence of\nthe people you have to make a regular business of learning their catch\nexpressions and idioms, and dropping completely the habit of translating\nEnglish into Lunyoro, then they will confer on you their highest degree\n\u201cOli Mutoro,\u201d \u201cyou are a native of Toro.\u201d\n\nThe Batoro have what I believe is a unique custom among these tribes,\nthat is, every mother gives a pet name to her child, and this clings to\nhim always; it is used when addressing as a token of love or respect\nby friends and dependents. Ana Kageye constituted herself my African\n\u201cMother,\u201d and straight away gave me the name \u201cAdyeri\u201d (pronounced\nAr-de-air-y). This was very readily taken up by the people, as my name\nabsolutely beat them. Only the King and one or two others got so near as\n\u201cHurudeki,\u201d and really it took some time to answer up to \u201cBeki\u201d \u201cDeki\u201d\n\u201cHeki\u201d \u201cBodeki\u201d \u201cHedeki\u201d and even \u201cParatata,\u201d which were all supposed\nto be \u201cHurditch.\u201d Really, to save the poor family name from such rough\ntreatment I was not sorry to put it away entirely except in memory.\n\nIn less than five years a great deal has been accomplished in\ntranslation, and with the exception of a few hymns, it has been entirely\nundertaken by the one missionary who has also been responsible for direct\nmission work. During that period the New Testament, the Prayer Book with\nPsalms, two Catechisms, a hymn book of nearly one hundred hymns, and a\nreading sheet for learners have been completed in the language of the\npeople. Since Lunyoro was adopted in place of the neighbouring dialect of\nLuganda, the work has gone forward in leaps and bounds, and to it must\nbe attributed largely the wide spread of Christianity among the peasants\nin the villages. It is not an uncommon thing to find a village that has\ngiven up devil-worship, not through the instrumentality of a European or\nnative teacher, but simply through the people having learned to read the\nBible for themselves from someone who had been instructed in the alphabet\nor syllables.\n\nWhen Mr. Maddox was about to leave Toro for England, the King and chiefs\ncame together and presented to him a letter signed by a very large number\nof Christian men. In it they expressed their warm appreciation of all\nthe work he had done for them in translating the books, and earnestly\nhoped he would soon return to them again. These books form the entire\nlibrary of the Batoro. They are most insatiable readers, and as you pass\nalong the roads any hour in the day you will hear a voice here and there\nissuing from the little grass huts reading in loud measured tones from\nthe Bible. It is impossible to estimate the purifying and sanctifying\ninfluence this literature has had on the national and family life. The\nconquering martial strains of the \u201cOnward Christian Soldiers\u201d have\ndisplaced and driven out of the country the old songs of plunder and\nbloodshed. Instead of the little children learning demoralising heathen\nsongs and dances they are being taught to sing such hymns as \u201cI think\nwhen I read that sweet story of old.\u201d Right away among the creeks and\ncrevices of the ancient Mountains of the Moon, on the very borders of the\ngreat primaeval forests inhabited by the little pigmy tribe, you hear\nto-day the strains of these Christian hymns.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nFestivities in Toro\n\n\nI. CHRISTMAS.\n\nCan it be that this is the season that in one\u2019s mind is always associated\nwith snow, Jack Frost, Santa Claus, shops and streets ablaze with gas\njets, holly and mistletoe, people hurrying and jostling each other good\nnaturedly, wrapped up in the warmest furs to keep out the crisp, frosty\nair, and wishing each and all the compliments of the season. Yes, it is\nreally Yuletide! And yet the hills and dales are waving their ripening\ngrain under the deep sapphire of a cloudless sky. The dry season is near\nits close, hills and mountains are scorched and parched, the banana\ngroves and the tiger grass of the swamps which wind like a serpent\u2019s\ntrail round the base of the hills, are the only bright and green tracks\nthat have survived the conflict with the equatorial sun. On all sides\nare to be seen tiny patches of cultivated land, even reaching up to the\nlofty peaks of Ruwenzori\u2019s range, where the people have sown their grain\n(Buro), and this will soon be ready for the harvesters.\n\nIn the garden round our bungalow mud house are gorgeous zinnias,\nbalsams, mignonette, carnations, sweet peas, geraniums, nasturtiums,\nand two little rose buds. A few steps further will bring you round to\nthe vegetable garden. One gardener being an Irishman, potatoes are\nvery much in evidence, and of course cabbages. Besides these there are\ncauliflowers, green peas, beans, celery, only wanting the nip of frost\nto make it excellent, lettuces, beetroots, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions,\ncarrots, and turnips. And yet this is Christmastime! It is little wonder\nthat one has constantly to revert to the calendar to be assured of this.\n\nAnd so we set to work to get the little gifts together that our kind\nfriends from home sent us for our native friends\u2014knives, pencils, bags,\nsashes, blotters, and so on. The wee tots from the school come down for\ntheir attendance prizes, and go away beaming with their new possession of\na pinafore. Then the oxen are killed, and on the day before Christmas all\nthe sick folk come to the \u201cmissionary butcher\u201d and hobble off rejoicing\nwith their joint of beef wrapped up in a banana leaf. And, although\nFather Christmas has assumed a black face in Africa, he does not pass by\nthe white man\u2019s door, and he leaves his gifts of a grass mat, animal\u2019s\nskin, beans, beads, or bracelets, the only things with which he can fill\nhis Toro sack.\n\nAt 12.0 a.m. on Christmas Eve from the King\u2019s, the Queen Mother\u2019s, and\nthe Mission Hills the drums are set beating, and from the English forts\nthe guns are fired to proclaim to all the country that the Christian\u2019s\nday of rejoicing has dawned, for the Christ child\u2014Immanuel\u2014has come. Then\non the midnight air is borne the strains of \u201cO come all ye faithful\u201d and\n\u201cHark the herald angels,\u201d sung by some of those who have been redeemed\nfrom the heart of Darkest Africa, and now step out from their little huts\nto join with us in praising God.\n\nAt 8 a.m. on Christmas morning the church drum is beaten, calling the\npeople together, and by 9.0 the church is completely crowded out, many\nbeing obliged to sit outside. In the schoolroom over four hundred of the\npeasant folk and children have gathered, and in the dispensary the sick\nhave come together for morning service.\n\nThe church is beautifully decorated with palm leaves and flowers that\nhave been brought in by the people, and the building echoes with voice as\nthe audience unites, as one man, in the service.\n\n    On Afric\u2019s sunny shore, glad voices\n      Wake up the morn of Jubilee\n    The negro, once a slave, rejoices;\n      Who\u2019s freed by Christ, is doubly free.\n\nAfter that we all go to our homes, the natives to make merry over their\nbeef and bananas, and we to prepare as near an approach to an English\nChristmas dinner as is possible, and although there are no grocers\u2019 shops\nor fruiterers\u2019 to supply the usual details, and our cook for the twelve\nyears of his existence has been reared in African ignorance, still one\ncan fare very excellently, for the guinea fowl and sausages are really\nturkey in all but name. The baron of beef, although far removed from the\nprize oxen of the English markets, is very good, and the home-made plum\npudding, with its few suspicious native ingredients, brings up the menu\nto almost English standard.\n\nBoxing Day is generally a grand field day, when sports are arranged on an\nextensive scale, including running, pick-a-back, hurdle, three-legged,\nand obstacle races. This latter involves scaling a bamboo scaffolding,\ncrawling through packing cases with the ends kicked out, climbing a\ntree, and wriggling through a stack of reeds. Then there is a greasy\npole placed in an oblique position, at the end of which is hung a leg of\ngoat. Big and small, old and young attempt this, quite regardless of the\nundignified tumbles each experiences. Loud was the shout of applause on\none occasion, when the Katikiro, who is of clumsy proportions, after many\nfalls landed safely at the top and secured the joint. A banana peeling\ncompetition for the women comes next. The competitors, some twenty at a\ntime, sit in a row with their knives and twenty green bananas on a leaf\nbefore them. When the whistle sounds they attack their task with great\nexcitement. Some women, in place of knives, use sharpened pieces of\nwood. Those who finish first and peel the best receive prizes of calico.\nScrambles for cowrie shells generally bring the sports day to a close.\n\nOn more than one occasion Bishop Tucker has honoured Toro by dating his\nannual visit about Christmas time. This was the case during our first\nyear in Toro. We had had a busy time previous to his arrival questioning\nand examining the hundred and fifty women candidates who were to be\npresented for confirmation, and when all this was completed we ran away\nto the crater Lake, eight miles distant, to snatch a few days\u2019 rest. But\non the second day we were unexpectedly recalled, as one of our fellow\nmissionaries had been taken very ill and was obliged to be carried into\nMengo under the care of the other one. So for the first time we two\ngirls were left quite alone, eight days away from the nearest European.\nBut we were too occupied to realise it. The engineers, surveyors, and\nforemen (?) having suddenly left us in this manner, we were obliged to\nsee through the completion of the jobs they had taken in hand in order to\nget things into shape before Christmas. Here at last we found a chance\nof putting to use our youthful study of Euclid. With a measuring line\nand sticks we felt distinctly professional as we tried to mark out a new\nroad, but we found that if only the ground space had been long enough to\ntest it our two straight lines would certainly have enclosed a space. So\nperhaps Euclid\u2019s axiom is only an absurdity after all!\n\nThen the house where the Bishop was to be entertained needed repairs.\nThe roof was in such a state that one evening, while we were tidying up\ninside, a big storm visited us and simply poured down through the reed\nceiling into the sitting-room. Fortunately there are no carpets in these\nparts, for the floor was covered with puddles in a very few minutes. But\nthe water soon drained off into the holes the white ants had made; they\nmust have suffered from rheumatism that night!\n\nIt was a difficult matter to find workmen just then, for most of the\nchiefs had gone off, each with some hundreds of men, to capture young\nelephants. Sir Harry Johnston had offered a certain sum for each young\nelephant brought in alive, as he was hoping to have them trained for\ntransport use. A few days after the first party had set out, a loud\nreport of distant yelling and screaming reached the school, where daily\nclasses were going on. Nearly everyone ran out to discover the cause of\nthe uproar. A large crowd was seen approaching, beating drums, blowing\npipes, dancing, and shouting. There seemed no apparent occasion for such\na row till one spied a tiny, hapless baby elephant, with ropes round its\nbody and four legs, limping along among its captors. It died, like all\nits followers. But for a few days just then Toro threatened to become\na most undesirable menagerie, for, besides these elephants and various\nmonkeys, the King had collected, and sent to the Commissioner, one of the\nlargest, most repulsive, and horribly human-looking chimpanzees. The mode\nof capture had been rather unique. The tree in which it had taken up its\nposition in the forest was isolated by the capturers cutting down all the\nsurrounding ones for some distance. Then, placing a circle of men with\nspears to guard the boundary, they felled the only standing tree, and as\nit suddenly crashed down with its coveted and unsuspicious object, a net\nwas thrown over the black monster, that was then hustled into a large\ncane cage standing in readiness.\n\nOne of our runaway Missionaries managed to get back to Toro just in time\nfor the Bishop\u2019s arrival three days before Christmas. We went with the\nKing\u2019s wife, his mother, his sister, and about 250 women, and waited for\nhis arrival on the brow of a hill. All the men, headed by the King and\nKatikiro on horseback, had preceded us. When the Bishop came up, riding\non his mule, he was literally besieged, and we could scarcely move on\nfor the crowd. The days that followed were big days. Three hundred and\nsixty-four candidates came forward for confirmation.\n\nIt was a truly wonderful sight to see the church with over 500 men and\nwomen assembled for Holy Communion. My mind travelled back in thought\nto six years ago, when outside the houses had stood the devil temples.\nGeneration after generation had passed, the Prince of Darkness exercising\nundisputed sway and holding the people in the most degraded and merciless\nallegiance. Now his power had been completely shattered, his temples\ncast down, and a great Invisible Temple was being builded together for a\nHabitation of God through the Spirit.\n\nTogether at the Communion rails knelt the King in his royal robes, and\nclose by was one of his peasant subjects dressed in a small goat skin.\nThere was old Apolo Mpisi, the dispensary patient, with a beaming and\npeaceful countenance\u2014this was his first communion. Among others, hobbled\nup an old lady on crutches, who had had her leg amputated during a visit\nfrom Dr. Cook, of Mengo. The responsibility was a solemn one of feeling\nthat we had done something toward preparing many of the women for this\nholy ordinance. When we shall stand together, all united before the\nThrone in Heaven, will it not be glorious to have had a share, however\nsmall, in leading forward some of the multitude from Africa!\n\nAs the powers of Heaven looked down upon Toro that day, surely they\nbroke forth into a song of victory. Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and\nthanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might be unto our God for ever\nand ever, Amen.\n\n\nII. CORONATION CELEBRATIONS.\n\nAlthough so far from things that stir and thrill the great heart of the\nBritish Empire, Toro must not be considered behind in loyalty to that\ncentre of its Government. Certainly it exercised its utmost ingenuity to\nfollow close in the wake of the plans and excitement that occupied the\nmind of every English subject for commemorating the great event of the\nCoronation of its King\u2014Edward VII.\n\nOur mails from England for months seemed to have no other subject to talk\nabout. Our minds pictured it all\u2014sombre London stripped of its usual calm\nsobriety, decorated in full war paint. We were seized with a violent fit\nof patriotism, and because we could not join in the London throng, or\neven go to the grand festivities that were prepared by the Government at\nMengo, we determined to do our best for Toro.\n\nFirst of all, some days before the event, invitations were sent out to\nthe four other Europeans, and to the royal native court, for a coronation\ndinner. Ordering the donkey to be harnessed, someone was despatched to\nour village shop to purchase red, blue, and white calico, with which were\nmade two long lines of streamers for decorating our station, and a large\nUnion Jack to cover the Table in the Church. Some of the people came down\nto decorate the outside, while we decked the church inside with the royal\nand imperial colours. At 8.0 a.m. on Coronation Day over 1,000 people had\ngathered in and outside the church for a brief service. After prayer and\nScripture, a Royal decree was read that had been sent out from England\nand translated, and this was followed by a brief address on the event of\nthe day. Then we all rose and united in the good old National Anthem,\nthat had been translated and type-written for the occasion.\n\nThat was the first half of the day\u2019s proceedings. The second half\nstarted at seven, when the dinner came off. The table was decked out\nwith a table centre of red geraniums, white balsams, and cornflowers,\nthe serviettes were folded as crowns, and the first course consisted of\ncrown-shaped patties covered with the yoke of eggs, and studded with the\nwhite to represent crown jewels! King Kasagama and Queen Damali, dressed\nin draperies of silk and white linen, arrived with the other native\nguests, who had hung about the outside courtyard so as to avoid being\nthe first arrivals. It was marvellous how easily and quietly our native\nguests manipulated the European table equipments; half concealed glances\nwere cast in our direction every now and again. The serviettes rather\npuzzled them\u2014were they to be left on the table or used as handkerchiefs?\nWhen the plum pudding came in, all ablaze, with a little British flag\nstuck at the top, three hearty cheers greeted it, the King joining in\nwith boisterous glee.\n\nOn the table there were three dishes of strawberries, the first we\nhad been able to produce in Toro, and we were keen on introducing\nthem into the country generally. Preparing a plateful with sugar and\ncream, I respectfully begged his Majesty to try a real English luxury.\nHe glanced timidly at them, and showed the usual disinclination that\nis always evinced when given a new English dish to sample. He assured\nme that he was so satisfied that anything more was impossible, but,\npassing the plate to the Katikiro, told him to try it. The poor man,\nlooking the picture of misery, begged to be excused, so it fell to the\nlot of the unfortunate chief minister to submit himself to the task.\nWith a pitifully resigned expression he took one strawberry on a spoon,\nthen another, and another, till he called out \u201cExcellent, excellent,\nthe best of all.\u201d Forgetting his recent excuse, the King took the dish\nnear at hand, and simply finished off the whole lot! The day following\nrequests came from one and another for strawberry roots, and King Daudi\nsuperintended the Queen as she herself planted them in a plot outside the\nsitting-room window of his Majesty\u2019s new house.\n\nAfter dinner the King was determined to do his part, and insisted on\nour all going up to his home. To our utter amazement we found our court\noutlined with hundreds of flaming torches, ten to twelve feet long;\nthe bearers were waiting to conduct us to the royal palace. The whole\ndistance was lined with double files of torchbearers, which made the\ncountry look like Earl\u2019s Court Exhibition on an exaggerated scale. Big\nbonfires were burning on the surrounding hills, the torches of guests\ncoming from all directions looked like so many fireflies. On arriving at\nthe Royal Court, we were met with a blaze of fire. Quickly falling into\norder, the people unanimously shouted a salute to his Majesty and his\nfriends, as we made for the chairs all set out on leopard skins outside\nthe two-storied mud palace. Then the performance began. The Royal band\nwas then in full force. On striking up one of the most weird, discordant\ntunes, nearly the whole crowd of people broke into dancing, their\nfluttering, white linen garments flapping about them as wings. More and\nmore excited they got, till they danced so high as to appear held up in\nmid-air. Then they gave way to the pipers, who performed on instruments\nmade from crude pieces of reed. Singing accompanied this performance\u2014such\nfantastic tunes, all praising the greatness of their King and exalting in\nthe prowess of his people, with ringing cheers interspersed for England,\nits King, and King Kasagama. The evening closed in giving us all a\nlonging that the great Edward VII. might have seen how one of his kingly\nsubjects in the heart of Africa had commemorated that important day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTramp I. To the Albert Edward Lake\n\n\nThe year after our arrival in the country my companion and I were again\non the tramp toward the Albert Edward Lake, combining an itinerating tour\nwith a holiday. We started under not very propitious circumstances. The\nwet season was not over, and promised to treat us rather shabbily, for\nthe rain began drifting down just as we had put off from home. We had a\nsmall body of caravan porters numbering about fourteen in all, and an\nordained native deacon, named Apolo Kivebulaya, as protector and overseer\nof the forces. He is just one of the best natives you could ever meet.\n\nHis experiences seem like a page out of apostolic history. He, with his\nfriend Sedulaka, came from Uganda to Toro in 1896 as teachers. When a\nEuropean was afterwards stationed there, he went further afield, even\nas far as Mboga, on the boundaries of the Pigmy Forest, and there he\nestablished a Mission Station. At first he met with a great deal of\nopposition from the chief Tabala, which might have been expected from the\ngraphic account the late Sir Henry Stanley gives of these uncontrollable\npeople in his book \u201cDarkest Africa.\u201d Apolo\u2019s house and few possessions\nwere burnt by incendiarism, and for three weeks he remained hidden from\nhis persecutors in a house of a woman, who had become a \u201creader\u201d; but\nhis zeal and faith never flagged even when he was cast into the chain\ngang, for there he commenced to speak to his guards, and taught them\nto read the Testament, which he always carried about with him. Shortly\nafter these things Tabala himself got converted to Christianity through\nthe instrumentality of this very man, and, from being one of the fiercest\nopponents, he became, and has remained since, one of the most ardent\nsupporters of the Christian Faith. Apolo is a well-known character\nthroughout the country; nothing succeeds in ruffling his quiet, contented\nnature, but with a chronic beam on his old dusky face, he goes along in\nhis daily routine of instructing catechumens or confirmation candidates,\nofficiating at burials and marriages, or visiting the outlying Mission\nStations.\n\n[Illustration: APOLO KIVEBULAYA.]\n\nCertainly we could not have had a native escort so respected and beloved\nall round these parts than good old Apolo.\n\nIn order that we should find camp comfortably fixed up on the first\nday, we had despatched our belongings some time ahead. We were anxious\nto wait for the heat of the day to pass before actually starting off\non our wheels. Just outside Kabarole the rain came down in torrents.\nWe struggled to cycle on through it, but it was tough business. The\nmud, added to the hilly condition of the path, prevented us from\nmaking much headway. My wheel was a solid tyre, generally known as a\n\u201cbone-shaker\u201d; it would _not_ stick on the down hills, and insisted on\nskidding along the narrow, slanting paths cut round them. Once I did a\nmost uncomfortable somersault, and having for a second time got thrown\ninto thick mud, relinquished the bicycle for the remainder of that day\u2019s\njourney. When we reached camp, we were in a condition better imagined\nthan described. Evidently the rain had rather damped the energies of our\nporters, for we found the tent only just commencing to be tackled, and\nmud, mud, mud, everywhere. It was certainly rather confusing; 5 p.m., and\nin a tiny space surrounded by banana trees were the jabbering porters;\nboxes were lying about in the mud, and a small crowd of inquisitive\nnatives stood round gaping with astonishment. One of them kindly offered\nto turn out of his tiny hut to allow us to change our soaking clothes,\nand our stay there turned out to be somewhat longer than we bargained\nfor, for one of our porters came to us with a cheerful grin saying that\nhe had left the ground sheet of the tent behind. Stacks of soaking\ngrass had been laid down over the wet mud inside the tent, and our low\ncamp beds were almost sitting in it. So we had them removed into the\nhut, and there we passed the night. Oh, these native huts! There are no\napertures for light excepting the low entrance; this one was partially\ndivided into two apartments by means of a reed screen, and in one of\nthese we slept; in the other, our girls cooked and knocked about. There\nwas just squeezing space for our two beds. Above mine was a ledge, where\nsome fowls were roosting and strutting about, shaking down the soot\nand cobwebs that hung round the inside of the hut. We scarcely dared\nattempt to close our eyes, as rats were scampering about very excitedly\nall night. We cleared off as soon as we could in the morning, hoping\nto settle on a more congenial spot next time. The road left much to be\ndesired: it was a constant succession of hills and deep ridges, with a\nfew swamps to add variety to one\u2019s mode of travelling. Feeling scarcely\nlike wading through these, I mounted the shoulder of a stolid porter,\nwho stumbled through the mud and water above his knees. It is a tragic\nexperience to balance yourself up so high, and only a woolly pate to\ntenaciously hold on to, especially when your carrier gets stuck in the\nmud, and extricating it, with an unexpected jerk, nearly sends his burden\nand himself head-first.\n\n[Illustration: THE ALBERT EDWARD LAKE.]\n\nAt every halting-place food was brought to us by the natives for\nour porters; they generally offer it as a gift, but would be very\ndisappointed if they did not get something of greater value in exchange.\nOne has to be provided with a purse of curious dimensions, for at\nsome villages reading sheets, hymn books, or gospels are the payments\nmost valued; in others, calico, cowrie-shells, pice, or even beads\nof the particular design which happens to be the latest fashion in\nclothing there at the time. The scenery on our second day\u2019s travel was\nexhilarating; the road lay near the base of Ruwenzori\u2019s mountains. We\nsteamed along on our machines with sun-hats and big sun-shades over\nridges and through mud at which even a horse would stop and consider.\nOur noble Apolo insisted on keeping pace with our bicycles, and as small\nbatches of natives passed on the road, gazing with blank astonishment\nat these \u201crunning snakes,\u201d he called out with pride and elation \u201cLook\nat the wisdom of the white man.\u201d Just as this remark was shot out for\nthe third time the front bicycle tumbled clean into an ant-pit, and\nwas irremediably smashed up. The people did not evince any concern or\nsurprise: they evidently considered it a part of the show. One of the\nonlookers was chartered to shoulder the fragments back to Kabarole. I am\nnot quite sure if he did not wonder where the \u201cwisdom\u201d came in.\n\nWhen we were within one and a-half hours of our next camp, streams\nof natives came running out to meet and welcome us. They continued\nincreasing in number till we reached the village, Butanuka, which seemed\nwell awake, what with the shrieking excitement of the people and the\nhowlings of the children, who yelled with fear and alarm. Really our\nwelcome resembled our first appearance in Toro, for here as everywhere in\nthese parts the people had never seen white women. The drum was beaten,\nand although we were tired out and longed for a quiet rest and a cup of\ntea, we were borne along with the crowd there and then into the little\ngrass church, where the native teacher thanked God for sending us, and\nwe expressed our joy at coming out to them. The chief had erected a large\ngrass shed where we could sit during the time of day when the sun makes\na tent absolutely unbearable. His wife brought us in her offering in the\nshape of a sheep, six chickens, eggs, twenty bundles of bananas, native\nspinach, and two large gourds of \u201cmubisi\u201d\u2014banana juice. Butanuka is a\ncharming spot, surrounded on three sides by mountains. Toward the south\nthese suddenly terminate and expose an arm of Lake Dweru. In nearly all\nthe valleys are stretches of cultivated land and banana groves, while the\nlittle brown grass huts peep out like so many eyes from among their green\nsurroundings.\n\nThere is a peculiar fascination in journeying through these unknown\ndistricts of Africa. When one can talk with the people in their own\nlanguage they become an intensely interesting study. Cunning plus lying\nplus theft plus indolence\u2014these qualities seem to sum up the very\ngenerally accepted idea of a black man. Thus the European approaches\nhim with a distinctly biassed opinion, and instinctively realising that\nthe white man distrusts him; the real self of the negro shrinks back\ninto itself, the fidelity, dog-like affection, generosity, and keen\npenetration of his nature remain unrecognised because untouched. Dispel\nall preconceived ideas, study the people\u2019s environment, the external and\ninternal influences that sway them, approach them not as \u201cniggers\u201d but\nfellow creatures, and the European will never need to complain of the\nblack man\u2019s presumption, but will find it even possible to accept the\ninspired statement \u201cGod ... hath made of one blood all nations of men.\u201d\n\nDuring our three days\u2019 stay at Butanuka we were besieged with callers.\nThe sick came in for medicine, readers to be questioned for baptism, and\nothers desirous of being written down for instruction. A teacher from a\nneighbouring village was sent to us with an eager request that we should\nvisit them. We agreed to squeeze it into one afternoon. Although the\nteacher had only been there at work one month we found quite a lively\ninterest had been awakened among the people. The chief of the village,\nwho was captain of the King\u2019s soldiers, came out in big style to welcome\nus. After a little service and a great deal of medicining, we were\ntaken to the chief\u2019s hut, where a meal had been prepared for us. After\nseating ourselves on the soft, fresh grass that had been laid down on\nthe floor we started operations. First of all water was brought in for\nhand ablutions, then the unsweetened cooked bananas were brought in,\nand a boiled chicken, all wrapped up in the banana leaves in which they\nhad been boiled. The chicken was broken up into tempting morsels by the\nhost and an immoderate helping of the bananas was plumped down in front\nof each. Then commenced the process of rolling the bananas into small\nballs in our hands, and punching a depression in the middle by which the\ngravy could be scooped up. A sheep and three chickens were brought to us\nas presents, and as we started off nearly the whole village followed on\nbehind. In spite of hurrying we did not reach home before the darkness\nfell, and a thunderstorm broke over us, extinguishing the long, flaming\ntorches which the natives carried; so we had to push along as best we\ncould, and arrived in a wearied and very bedraggled condition.\n\nLeaving Butanuka and keeping a southerly course we found ourselves\nshut in by the big mountains that rise up so erratically from their\ngently undulating surroundings. For the first time I indulged in the\nquestionable luxury of being hammocked. We had been experiencing some\ndays of heavy rains which had made the paths very muddy, and the long\ngrasses through which we had to push our way was very wet, so that I\ndetermined to take advantage of the voluntary offers from some of\nthe young Christian men, headed by the teacher, to act as carriers.\nThe men gaily hoisted the hammock pole on their heads, and trying to\nappear unconscious of their 10\u00bd stone burden, rushed off at a motor-like\nspeed. They evidently felt a little uneasy of the possible consequences,\nfor the front man kept calling out to me \u201cDo not fear, my child,\u201d but\nsuddenly I was precipitated backward, the heavy pole on the top of me,\nand my black \u201cfather\u201d was sprawling unceremoniously in the mud. After\nthat they were convinced of the necessity of going slowly, especially as\nour imperceptible path lay somewhere between tall thistles that gave us\nuncomfortable pricks and scratches as we pushed our way through. When\nwe reached our destination for that day the hammock bearers yelled and\nliterally jumped with joy, regardless of my feelings, calling out \u201cJuli\nAbakuru ba Buingereza,\u201d \u201cWe are great people of England,\u201d as they put me\nto the ground with \u201cWell done, very well done, mistress\u201d; but I felt in\nan advanced stage of mal de mer.\n\nThat day we had a typical African travelling experience. After descending\na long, almost perpendicular hill we landed where our path lay through a\nbroad, rushing river, the force of which was so great that the men could\nscarcely stand. The recent rains had swelled the river, which, coming\nfrom the lofty snow peaks, formed into a perfect cataract. The first man\nwho very gingerly went to test the strength of the water was carried off\nhis feet and just saved himself by clinging on to the bank at a bend.\nAfter long deliberation Apolo, our leader, got together six or eight\nvery powerful men, who volunteered to post themselves where the current\nwas strongest and help the others along. The first load that was taken\nacross was our sack of kitchen utensils, which floated cheerfully down\nstream for some distance. Then the men suggested taking me across in the\nhammock. I generously hinted to my companion that she should go over\nfirst, but she would not see it. So, summing together all my courage,\nI got into the hammock and they plunged along, dragging their burden\nthrough the madly rushing waters. After about three hours had elapsed\neverything was safely landed on the other shore, baggage and all. The\nonly tragedy we had to relate was the sad fate of a chicken that, at\nsight of the tempestuous waters, broke from its captivity and was carried\naway by the relentless river to supply food to the hungry little fishes.\n\nThings were not much better on the following day. We had almost walked on\nto the Equator and the sun did its best to make us know it, so that at\nthe end of four solid hours\u2019 marching we literally collapsed under the\nshade of a big tree and sent scouts on ahead to ascertain the condition\nof the River Mubuku, through which our path lay. They returned with the\nnews that the waters were so high that it was impossible to attempt\ncrossing that day. We determined not to be done if possible, however, and\npushed on to see for ourselves. The mountains seemed to close in upon us\non all sides, and from their precipitous heights rushed down numerous\nrivulets, which united and formed the mighty Mubuku River. We halted on\nthe stony bank and viewed the situation. On the opposite side could be\nseen groups of natives crouching down among the long grasses and peering\nwith frightened glances in our direction. It was evident that we must\nwait till the waters had abated somewhat, so pitched camp close by and\nmade the best use of our time by rallying the villagers round us, who\ngathered together in swarms. There, as everywhere, the cry was, \u201cGive us\na teacher.\u201d The desire on the part of these people for instruction is\nquite remarkable, but to speak intelligently to them is very far from\neasy. They have never thought in the abstract, so it is essential to\nclothe every spiritual truth in parables or concrete qualities. One must\nget back further than the A.B.C. and adopt the kindergarten method. If\none does not reach them it is because the teacher has forgotten how to be\na child, or has failed to make the invisible visible. God in revelation\nand God in manifestation employed parabolical means for presenting to the\nnatural man in his infancy truth which is infinite and incomprehensible.\n\nWhen once the desire for reading has been actually awakened in these\npeople, nothing will deter them from mastering the letters. If they\npossess nothing with which to purchase the five cowrie shell reading\nsheet, they will be quite willing to bring in firewood or do any work\nin order that they may obtain it. One old woman at this particular camp\nbrought her spade and cleared a small space round our tent, and when we\ngave her the longed-for wages she started right away to struggle with the\nAlphabet, although her eyes were dim and her bristly hair was tinged with\nwhite.\n\nThus, when no teacher can be sent to the people, they are not left in\ntotal darkness, as the Bible is slowly penetrating the entire land and\nbeing read eagerly by its people.\n\nThe next morning we found the waters had gone down sufficiently to\nenable us to venture cautiously. It was not, however, a very desirable\nexperience; about twenty men supported the hammock while the waters\nwere foaming and roaring beneath and coming right over the sides of\nthe canvas; two men who were attempting to lift it out of the water by\nholding on to the sides were carried away by the strength of the current,\nthen all the remaining availables made a hasty grab at the other side,\nwith the result that I was on the point of being overturned and pitched\nout. I just managed to save myself by hanging on to the pole, but got\ndrenched through.\n\nThe following morning we started off at 7 a.m. The scenery was enchanting\nand the air very invigorating. We continued steadily marching until\n11.30, passing through hamlets absolutely deserted on account of the\ndestructive visits of the elephants, which had torn up the banana trees\nfrom the roots, trampled down the Indian corn, and razed to the ground\nthe little grass houses of the people. They themselves had fled in\nterror, leaving the wild pigs to feast on their potato patches.\n\nThe four and a half hours\u2019 walk gave us a decided hankering after an\nA.B.C. or Gatti, also a change of clothing, as our boots felt like water\ncisterns and our skirts were weighted with mud and water that literally\ntrickled off the edges. The porters put our boxes down under a tree and\nwent off in search of what they could pick up in the way of food, while\nwe fished out some dry things and indulged in a meal of goat soup and\ncold chicken. Our guide told us another hour and a half would find us in\ncamp, but at the end of two hours hard walking and no signs of our tent\nbeing visible we inquired how much further had we to go. \u201cOh,\u201d said one\nof the porters, \u201cit is impossible to halt here, three hours more will\nbring us to water and food.\u201d This fairly did for us; we had somehow doled\nout our walking powers without reckoning for this extra distance, and we\nfelt decidedly despondent. The natives always underestimate distance in\norder that the very prospect should not have a discouraging effect on a\npedestrian\u2019s spirits.\n\nThe scorching sun had made us very thirsty, and we worked our teapot very\nhard that day; the mosquitoes gave us a lively time of it, but faint,\nyet pursuing, we dragged on, reaching our welcome little tent at 6 p.m.\nBut oh, what a resting place. A strong smell of stale fish pervaded the\nair, mingled with all the odours peculiar to African huts, where cattle,\nsheep, chickens and people all huddled together. We found our tent\npitched in the middle of a court completely surrounded and suffocated\nby fishermen\u2019s huts, for we were close to the lake shore. The only\ncompensation for this and the mosquito discomforts was the enjoyment\nof tasting fresh fish once more. The lake fish somewhat resemble fresh\nhaddocks and are of delicious flavour. On our arrival men were sent to\ncatch them, and in half an hour they were served up steaming hot from the\nstewpan! Their method of fishing is primitive in the extreme. They have\nwicker baskets open top and bottom, which are shot down in the water;\nwhen they have enclosed a fish its kicking about is heard on the sides of\nthe basket; then they thrust in their arms and draw out the captive.\n\nNyagwaki, the mission station for which we were making, is situated\non one of the southern points of Ruwenzori. A short, steep climb next\nmorning brought us face to face with streams of people, who came hurrying\ndown the mountain side to greet us and to help push us up the rougher\nplaces. When we reached the summit of the hill on which stands the\nvillage, a truly marvellous view stretched beneath.\n\nEvidently the Albert Edward Lake once extended over the miles of plain\nwhich lie to the north of it, for bare, flat islands appear here and\nthere in the large arm of the lake that lies almost surrounded by plain.\nIt is just as one might imagine the world looked when Noah came out of\nthe ark with his family. At sunset the view was most impressive, the lake\nlay shimmering like a sea of gold, while the evening mist that gently\ntouched the land made it appear as though it were blushing as the sun\nkissed good-night and disappeared behind the distant hills.\n\nA very vigorous work we found was going on here; the little mission\nchurch, with its capacity for about 200 people, was well filled, and\nseveral came to be written down for baptism. An occasional visit to these\nisolated stations from a European missionary does much toward encouraging\nthe young teachers and Christians who often are subject to severe and\nsubtle temptations to fall back into the old heathen practices by which\nthey are surrounded. The Chief of the village, Kasami, had been brought\ninto touch with Christianity when visiting Kabarole during a visit\nfrom Dr. Cook. There he had undergone an operation for opthalmia, and,\nhaving received \u201cnew windows,\u201d he returned to his country to use them in\nlearning to read.\n\nOur experiences on the homeward journey were much the same, although we\ntook a less circuitous route. Almost without exception, we got soaked\nthrough and through twice daily: first with the heavy dews, which\nnecessitated a mid-day halt and change if malaria was to be avoided, then\nagain, in the afternoon came the rains, which fell regularly from 1.0\np.m. and onwards. Our first thing on reaching camp was to have a large\nfire kindled and all our wardrobe hung round to dry, singe, or stiffen.\nOur boots suffered terribly\u2014and so did we when we struggled into them\neach morning.\n\nOne day, after five hours\u2019 marching, the thunderclouds came tumbling\ntogether and sent down torrents of rain. We tried to squeeze up under a\ntree, but this soon offered no shelter, and even our mackintoshes could\nresist the water no longer. It was impossible to cook any food as the\nfire would not light; meanwhile our thirst became tragic, until the idea\noccurred to us of standing under each other\u2019s umbrella and quaffing the\nstreams that ran from the spokes! Hunger at last drove us on toward camp,\ndespite the rain, but the roads required one to be rough shod. Faithful\nApolo insisted on grabbing my arm with such a grip that when it finally\nlost all power of feeling, a row of bruises presented themselves to prove\nthe conflict passed through.\n\nFor a whole week we had been passing elephant tracks, which the porters\ndeclared were quite freshly made, but once only were we fortunate enough\nto see these magnificent monsters. At mid-day the porters had spied\nthree some distance off, slowly tramping along in the tall grass, but we\nonly saw their heads and tops of their backs. At 5.30 p.m., however, that\nsame day, a herd of fifteen passed comparatively close to us. In single\nfile they solemnly marched over the brow of a hill, silhouetted against\na gorgeous sky. A yell from one of the porters brought their heads round\nin our direction, when we saw that five had immense tusks. It was an\nimposing sight, the whole was so perfectly harmonious; there is something\nvast, untrammelled\u2014a strange abandonment and magnanimity of nature in\nscenes like this, that even an Englishman must feel small!\n\nAntelopes, birds, and butterflies of the most brilliant colouring\nabounded in these parts, and these make up for the less attractive shades\nof an African tramp.\n\nWe arrived home very much braced up (the malarial germs had not a chance\nof settling down), and feeling that we had perhaps been enabled to\naccomplish something toward the carrying out of the marching order, \u201cGo\nye into all the world.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTramp II. Holidays\n\n\nAugust, I believe, is generally admitted to be the month of domestic\nmonsoons. Bradshaw, Baedeker, and time tables are the hardest-worked\nbooks in the house at that time; trunks and boxes are all upset; and\nevery conceivable seaside town and village is considered and rejected\nin turn as a possible antidote to the general disgust with which we\nregard home at that time of the year. Even in the remote corner of the\nworld known as Toro, my companion and I managed to create something of\nthe old disturbance by announcing that we wanted a holiday. Perhaps the\nconventionalism of our up-bringing was to blame for the suggestion,\nbut I believe we were honestly a wee bit tired after eighteen months\nof wrestling with the language and becoming acquainted with such new\nconditions of life and work. But the fuss that Uncle Podger created\nwhenever he undertook to do a little job was nothing compared to the\nbusiness our little holiday involved. First of all we had to get the\npermission of the Missionary in local charge, and he had to write in to\nheadquarters at Mengo to find out if the Committee were agreed on the\npoint. Then the whole district had to be carefully considered as to the\nspot most likely to offer real rest and enjoyment without encountering\nany perils of microbes, perils of hunger, perils by animals, perils by\nheathen, and perils by cannibals! That seemed a difficult matter, but\nwhen it was at last all fixed up the drum was beaten to rally together\nporters; food boxes, tent and furniture were packed up into parcels, and\ntwo cows were ordered to the front to complete our daily rations. Swarms\nof people came down to wish us good-bye; one dear old lady declared she\nwas consumed with grief, and another that she was on the point of death\nbecause of our leaving, but we told them all to cheer up and hurried away\nto assure ourselves that we were really off. We found ourselves with\ntwo military attach\u00e9s, who had been told off by the King with strict\ninjunctions to guard his European friends on their travels. But rarely\nhave I set eyes on more spindle-like specimens of humanity; if it had not\nbeen for the thick puttees, heavy jerseys, and cartridge belts with which\nthey were laden, one would scarcely have noticed their presence.\n\nIt had been decided to make for the southern shore of Lake Albert, which\nas the crow flies appears to lie about forty miles north of Kabarole. The\nfirst day we struck camp at the crater Lake only a few miles away. This\nspot has a peculiar charm; a turn in the road brings one suddenly in view\nof this still sheet of water, and there is something rather uncanny about\nthe dead waters lying in sepulchres of the past. I am not surprised that\nthe natives associate them with stories of devils and hobgoblins. One\nside of the crater has been worn away, leaving an outlet for the water\nthat has accumulated in its mouth, and this flowed out a few hundred\nyards before it found its level. Numbers of duck play about the waters of\nthe lake, and beautiful purple and pink water-lilies grow close to the\nbanks. We found a regular orchestra of frogs croaking _forte fortissimo_\nas an all-night serenade. It was just one of those days when the world\nfeels flooded with self-satisfaction and peace and God seems \u201cto rest\nin His love\u201d as we started off early the next morning. Having the loan\nof a Muscat donkey given me, I hurried off to get ahead of the caravan\nand reach of listeners, and then gave full vent to my feelings in that\nglorious hymn, \u201cPraise my soul, the King of Heaven.\u201d An old woman, who\nhad been fearfully startled at the unusual sight and sound, peered\nsuddenly through the long grasses on the roadside, and so stopped my\nnoble steed in his lively gallop. Exercising the usual native politeness,\nI greeted her with \u201cHow are you, my mother?\u201d She replied in the most\ncomplimentary terms \u201cHow\u2019s yourself, mother of my grandmother?\u201d I then\nasked her why she wore the shell and bit of wood threaded on string round\nher neck, and she told me it was to cure a pain on the chest. The words\nfelt like a harsh discord. When \u201cHeaven lies about us\u201d and every common\nbush is aflame with God, it is inconceivable how any man can remain\ncognisant only of the Spirit of Evil.\n\nOur path led us right close up to the north end of the Ruwenzori range,\nwhere it gets broken up into a succession of pyramid peaks, ridge\nintersecting ridge. Bamboo forests crowned the crests, as few points\nreached a higher altitude than eight thousand or nine thousand feet. The\ndry season had just about exhausted itself at that time, in consequence\nof which the grass on the mountains was dried up or had been burnt away\nin huge patches, exposing the bare soil and jagged rocks that frowned\ndown upon us with uncompromising severity. As the second day closed in\nupon us, we stole out of our little tent to watch the storm freaks on the\nmountain sides. An old dame, with a basket of sweet potatoes balanced on\nher shaven pate, passed us, and stared hard from our headgear down to\nour boot leather, with grave disapproval. She insisted most vehemently\nthat we must live without eating, for where could the food go when we\nwere tied up in the middle like that! Which reminded me of a chief who\nvisiting us one day just as we were going in to lunch, asked if we became\nlike the Batoro when they had finished eating, who resemble inflated\nballoons.\n\nInstead of being able to take a direct route to the Lake over the hills\nwe were obliged to get down into the Semliki plain, a long, unwholesome\ntract reeking with malaria that lies between and unites with a broad\nnavigable river, the Albert Edward and Albert Lakes. Although actually\nin sight of the broad sheet of water, to our dismay we found the only\npath zig-zagged continually across the plain, so that we were actually\nlet in for five days floundering up and down it\u2014pushing our way through\ngrass five to ten feet high always laden with moisture as we started out\neach day on our tramp. The river Semliki winds along the plain like a\nglittering snake: it is about thirty yards wide, and has a very rapid\nflow which prevents swamps from collecting along its course. A few\nstraggling huts sprawled about on the banks go by the name of fishing\nvillages. With small harpoons the fisherfolk spear the fish, which are\nchiefly of the carnivorous species. Great care has to be exercised by the\npeople as the river abounds in crocodiles. The inhabitants of the plain\nare a timid, dull folk\u2014they did not even venture to look up at us as we\npassed them, although they had never seen a white woman. Arriving at\none village we found it absolutely deserted; the people had all fled on\nhearing of our approach, leaving their homes with their few possessions\nscattered about. A search party was organised from among our porters, and\nafter a long hunt one poor, unhappy creature was brought in. He looked\nas if his last moment had come when he was brought to us, but when he\nheard his own language spoken and learned our peaceful intentions he went\noff and hauled in the others who were soon on the most friendly terms\nwith us. Towards evening they all came round us as we had prayers with\nour boys and porters. They were delighted with the singing, and without\nwaiting to be correctly taught the tune of \u201cJesus loves me\u201d they rushed\ninto it, all together, and soon fell into unison. The original air was\nquite unrecognisable, but one must forget to be orthodox sometimes out\nhere. Singing never fails to arrest the minds of the people, and offers\nan opportunity of telling them something of the Great and Loving Creator\nwhom we laud and worship. Christ alone who is Wisdom can give one the\nconfidence to attempt, in one short time, to draw aside the veil from the\neyes and reveal the Father to those who have never heard His Name. Yet\nonce having seen Him, one dares not allow that opportunity to pass by.\n\nWithin the last few years this plain has been placed among the game\npreserves of the Protectorate; it will consequently be a tantalizing\nroute to the sportsmen, as it abounds in antelopes of several\nkinds\u2014harte-beestes, wilde-beestes, water-buck, wild boars, and birds of\nexquisite colouring. We could get practically no food for our porters,\nand on the second day\u2019s fast, regardless of laws and regulations, we\nventured out with a gun to try and bring down something. But it was\nimpossible to get anywhere near the animals, as our scouts got so excited\nthat they frightened them away before we could get within shooting\ndistance. Then we tried the plan of despatching one of our noble soldiers\nwith a number of men from one of the villages to the nearest market in\norder to buy food. The men procured some potatoes, and started back with\nthem, but, as the military went on slightly in advance, they all decamped\none by one, carrying off the food with them. They had evidently taken in\nthe measure of their leader!\n\nThe following day, Sunday, we could not do otherwise but press on, while\nour men were without food. At mid-day we reached a most indescribably\ndesolate stretch of country; for many miles there extended scrub,\ninterspersed only by thorn bushes and tall cactus trees. Being thoroughly\nexhausted with fatigue, we struck camp by three lonely huts that\nunexpectedly were dumped down in this wilderness, without any sign of\ncultivation around. The people were wretchedly emaciated and seemed to\nhave no spirit or strength to provide themselves with nourishment. They\ndeclared nothing would grow, and they were obliged to live on what they\nhunted or the food which occasionally they could get in exchange for\nanimal flesh or hides.\n\nThe only prolific life was mosquitoes. We got out our prayer books\ntowards evening to sing one of the well-known hymns, but our spirits\nwere at low ebb and would not rise. Two hungry-looking vultures sat on a\nnaked cactus tree opposite our tent, watching our effort; they did not\nencourage song! I do dislike those birds so!\n\nThe fact was we were all feeling the dreariness of our surroundings, and\nneeded a good, sound chop!\n\nDuring a holiday, perhaps more than at other times, one just longs for\na Sunday back in the dear country. The exposure and frugality of camp\nlife makes one appreciate the shelter and calm of the home life. That\nall seemed so far off, and yet the setting sun said it is but two hours\naway. It is always thus when we look up. Here below it is distance, time,\nand change; up there it is infinity, Eternity, God; and our citizenship,\nafter all, is in heaven. Our earthly life, home, and loved ones are\ngradually passing beyond the arc of time, and hereafter we shall find all\nagain, perfected and completed, like the rainbow, round the Throne.\n\nWe were really getting very alarmed on our porters\u2019 account, but they\nwere very plucky about it, and, seeing our concern, assured us they could\ngo without food nine days! Nevertheless, they all sent up a shout of joy\non the third day when a fairly flourishing little fishing village was\nspied close by, on the south end of the lakes. It consisted merely of a\nfew scattered huts, but food was plentiful. As we arrived, the fishing\nsmacks (dug-out canoes) had just come, bringing in a two days\u2019 haul.\nThe fish, which resembled large cod and dabs, looked delicious, and was\na rare treat after the everlasting goat and chicken. In the evening the\nproprietor of the boats came, asking if we would like to be paddled out\non the lake. It was a case of paddling, for the canoe let in the water as\nquickly as two men could bale it out. Stacks of grass were laid at the\nbottom of the canoe for us to sit on, but we got horribly wet. The beauty\nof the scenery made us forget this, however. From the eastern shores\nrose, sheer out of the lake, cliffs rising to 800 or 900 feet, with thick\nvegetation growing down to the water\u2019s edge; and round the wooded banks\non the west the most gorgeously-coloured birds and herons sported about.\nThe wide, tranquil waters, like a great sleeping ocean, rested in a dead\ncalm. Suddenly, without the least warning, five huge hippopotami raised\ntheir ugly heads out of the water and snorted at us furiously, which made\nus beat a hasty retreat. But they were evidently keen on catching another\nglance at the Europeans, for in the middle of the night, when the whole\ncamp was peacefully sleeping, we were awakened by feeling the ground\nliterally shaking under us. A premonition of impending destruction seized\nus; then the ropes of our tent cracked, and we made for the poles, which\nwere tottering. But the tent withstood the attack, and with loud, hungry\nsnorts our clumsy mammoth intruders trundled off, under cover of night,\nto seek their prey.\n\nThe people round the southern end of Lake Albert are extremely primitive.\nIn their homes is no indication of the least exercise of intelligence to\nfurnish themselves with any tool, utensil, or garment. Only a very few of\nthe men and women adopt clothing; their food consists almost entirely of\nfish, which they hang out in the sun to dry. Those who possess a boat,\na cooking pot, or a food basket have obtained them from other folk in\nexchange for fish, or inherited them from their ancestors. There are\ntimes when one asks if the soul of these people has ceased to pulsate,\nall human instincts are so crushed in them. But even here were the\ntemples of a deity\u2014in the centre of each courtyard stood a rickety wee\ngrass hutch, in which offerings of food had been placed. Carlyle has\nrightly said that man was made a worshipping creature.\n\nAt evening prayers we called the people round us, and tried to talk\nwith them. One typical grey-haired old heathen appeared interested, but\nhurried the audience back to their homes as soon as possible. When we\nproposed moving off to a village higher up on the lake, he generously\noffered himself as escort, and, on our reaching the spot, went from hut\nto hut, as we thought, asking the people to bring us in food for barter.\nHe then wished us farewell and returned to his home. We afterwards\nlearned that he was circuit priest and had been to every home forbidding\nthe people to visit or listen to the words of the white ladies for fear\nof offending their god, the fish of the lake, who might withhold their\nonly means of sustenance. Demetrius has many descendants!\n\nJudging from the few days we spent roaming along the shores of the lake,\nI should say that it would be difficult to find a more fascinating spot\nfor a holiday when once you get there. The botanist finds rare treasures\nhidden away in the creeks and crevices of the cliffs; the sportsman has\na free hand to carry home as many hippo teeth or crocodile hides as he\nmay desire, and the modern historian would find on its shores not a few\nmaterials for writing up the story of present day Africa.\n\nQuite close to where we were camped, took place some years ago the\nmeeting between Emin Pasha and his rescuer, the late Sir Henry Stanley,\nwho had, in his search for the lost general and his column, penetrated\nright through Africa from the West coast, overcoming almost insuperable\ndifficulties. In spite of the attractiveness of the Albert Lake it is\nscarcely a cheerful place to be isolated at, and standing so near to\nthe same spot one felt a strong pity for that Egyptian leader as he\ngave orders for his boat to be sunk to prevent the enemy seizing it, so\ncutting off all chance of his own escape.\n\nTime has wrought a phenomenal change; the country from being threatened\nby strong foes on the north, and harassed by rebellious tribes within\nitself, has now settled down into a quiet peace, and two English girls\nwere able to stroll over the same soil in perfect safety, with nothing\nto fear, save perhaps that they themselves should fail to rise to the\nprivileges given them of living and working in such a land where lie\nfootprints in the sands of time.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTramp III. Through the Four Kingdoms of the Protectorate\n\n\nThe Uganda Protectorate is built up of four independent self-governing\nkingdoms, besides some outlying districts to the South East, which are\nunder the control of Chiefs. The kingdoms are\u2014Uganda, Toro, Bunyoro, and\nAnkole. Toro is ruled over by a once rebellious branch of the Bunyoro\ntribe, that many years ago drove out the original inhabitants and\nestablished an independent kingdom. With this exception each state is\nabsolutely distinct from the other in the general physique and customs\nof the people. All of the four reigning sovereigns have been baptised\ninto the Protestant Faith, and excepting in the case of Daudi Chwa, King\nof Uganda, who is at present but a small lad, they are leading exemplary\nChristian lives and helping forward Missionary work in every way.\n\nA circular tour of 600 or 700 miles through these districts could\nbe accomplished just within one month, but this would involve heavy\ntravelling and give but a feeble chance of appreciating the rapid\ntransitions that are met with in country, animal life, and people.\n\nIt took us nearly nine weeks to go the round, as our object was to visit\nall the mission stations along the route. In Toro we deviated slightly\nfrom the direct path in order that church sites might be measured and\npegged out. The English Government some months before had granted to\nthe native church a certain amount of land which could be divided up and\nmarked out wherever required. In the kingdom of Toro about 130 plots were\nchosen where, in the near future it is to be hoped, mission centres will\nbe planted, manned by trained native teachers. Already between 90 and 100\nhave been taken up and occupied, which means that the country is slowly\nbeing net-worked with Christian testimony. Measuring and marking out land\nin these parts is a rather complicated business. Once only did I attempt\nto offer the help of my services, and never again. It means geometrically\ndescribing circles and right angles through the rankest weeds and tiger\ngrass, stepping it out through swamp and marsh; planting young saplings\nat every point as boundary marks only to find all these carefully\ncalculated demarcations removed after perhaps a few days, to suit the\nconvenience of one of the land holders who was in need of firewood, or\nwished to extend his boundaries. _Quod non erat faciendum._\n\nStarting from Kabarole, we took a south-easterly direction toward\nAnkole, making the first halt at Isumba, a charming spot on the banks\nof a crater lake. There are seven more of these large volcano puddles\nin the immediate vicinity, lying in the heart of mountains of various\naltitudes. The waters are extremely picturesque with the rich tropical\nvegetation extending from the lip of the crater down to the water\u2019s edge.\nHippopotami plunge about in the day time, while at night they lug their\nheavy bodies up the steep banks and snort about from one lake to another\nin search of food. The country round is very beautiful and reminds one\nfaintly of Cumberland\u2014hills, mountains, forests, and lakes\u2014the monkeys\nand ourang-outangs, however, would not allow that idea to take root; they\nmade a fearful noise as we passed near their quarters. They were too\nmuch for our little fox terrier, who worked himself into a great rage\nat being unable to get at these intruders of the peace; he simply made\nfor the next native on the road (evidently thinking him one of the same\ntribe), but was driven off at the point of the spear that his antagonist\nwas carrying.\n\nThe forest close to our camp was swarming with monkeys, which made\nwide turning movements from branch to branch when disturbed. I kept on\nwondering if one was not going to land on my head. The two days old baby\nmonkeys led their big sedate mammas exhausting scampers from tree to\ntree. What a good thing it is that they improve in behaviour during the\nprocess of evolution!\n\nAt 9.0 p.m. a message came asking me to give medicine to a sick person\nclose to camp. Taking our lantern we went out and administered physic,\nthen hastened home as lions could be heard roaring some distance away.\nThe oil unfortunately gave out before we reached our tent, and I must\nadmit to a horrid sensation of fear lest one of them should spring out\nupon us from the pitchy darkness, as the roaring seemed to get nearer and\nnearer.\n\nIn the morning our cowman came in with the tidings that one of these\ncreatures had broken through the zariba built round the cowshed and run\noff with one of the calves.\n\nWhile encamped there a terrible storm visited us in the afternoon. We\nhad watched the clouds rapidly gathering from all directions, increasing\nin density and rapidity until they collided together and crashed with\nterrific force on a near hill, blotting out all objects from view. Then,\nwith united energy, these heavily charged thunder clouds bore down upon\nus with such anger that it seemed our little tents must be torn up and\ntwisted into shreds. All the porters had been called out to stand each\nat his post to meet the enemy; and right well they did it, too, for as\nthe tent cords snapped we must have soon been houseless if the men had\nnot held on to poles and canvas. In less than half an hour the storm had\npassed, and then the porters set to work, repairing ropes, hammering in\npegs, and redigging the trench round the tent.\n\nThe following day, after a hot, dusty march, we reached one of the\nmission stations, and before we had the chance of a wash-up and rest, the\nteacher came begging us to go to the church, where the people were all\nwaiting. So in we went and found nearly two hundred squeezed into the\ntiny reed building (intended to hold one hundred), all roaring from the\nvarious grades of the reading sheet. Instead of stopping the clatter when\nwe entered, a sign from the teacher made each one put greater exertion\ninto his reading and they simply yelled out their lesson to impress us\nwith the progress they were making.\n\nAfter a short service with them, we were escorted to our tent by a\nconsiderable following. When my medicine chest appeared the scene was\nlike the \u201cZoo\u201d let loose. A guard had to stand round to prevent me from\nbeing suffocated; of course the majority of the applicants were shams.\nThey watched to see which patient received the largest dose, then asked\nhim what his complaint was, and by the time they had pushed their way to\nthe dispenser were suffering from the same trouble, but in an acute form.\n\nOn the fourth day we reached the capital of a Saza or country Kitagwenda.\nToro is divided up into five large chieftainships or sazas, each of which\nis governed by a man who has tributary chiefs. The \u201clord\u201d of Kitagwenda\nwas ready in state to receive us as we arrived. His round reed house\nis built on the brow of a hill, and is surrounded by a tall, imposing\nplaited reed fence. As we slowly climbed up the broad, well-kept path,\nthe chief, dressed in white linen, came down to meet us with a large\ncrowd of followers. He was very keen on impressing us with his greatness,\nso ordered a drum to precede him and one piper. The people were all\nwildly excited, dancing and shouting themselves husky. While this\npandemonium was at its height, two poor, miserable-looking fat-tailed\nsheep were pushed forward for our acceptance. With these Uganda sheep\nall the good points were embodied in the tails. These are often as broad\nas the back, and hang in festoons almost to the ground. They are poor\ncreatures, and are not cheap at 2s. 8d., which is their market value.\nI doubt whether one animal contains as much nourishment as two pounds\nof Welsh mutton. At this place two of our first trained women teachers\nhad been at work. They had experienced some difficulty in getting the\nwomen interested, for digging, cultivating, and cooking had provided\nample excuse for staying in their homes. On the second day of our visit\nwe rallied all the women together at the tall mission church and urged\nthem to stand by their teachers, who had come with a message of love\nand peace and would instruct them in wisdom. There and then classes\nwere formed, and some sixty came forward for daily teaching. At night a\nbody of soldiers were sent down by the chief to guard our camp against\nthe lions, which were very numerous in these parts. The head officer,\nfeeling the importance of his commission, essayed to issue his commands\nin true British fashion by using a few words he had picked up from the\nEnglish lieutenant in Toro. He drilled his men just outside our tent\ndoor, and it was evident that the language of their general, as he bawled\nout incomprehensible English, was quite a conundrum to the men, and in\nconcealed whispers he was obliged to repeat his orders in the native\ntongue.\n\nA remarkably fine view of Ruwenzori snows was obtained at the junction\nof Ankole and Toro. With no cloud to intercept, miles of glittering ice\nstood out against a sapphire sky, and pushed down a hundred streams that\ntumbled in impetuous speed and flowed as swift rivulets through the\nforests that crossed our path. Only those who have known the weariness\nof continual walking in the tropics can rightly appreciate the joy that\nthese forest shades and the cool, refreshing rivers bring. At no time of\nthe year could the country have been seen to better advantage; the grass\nfires had carried off all the long withered grass, and the hills were\nnow carpetted with fresh, green glades. The forests displayed a strange\nvariety of colouring, for the young buds of spring, the luxuriant verdure\nof summer, blended in exquisite contrast and harmony with the gold and\nruddy tints of autumn. Shrubs of wild jessamine and seven-petalled tuber\nroses were in rich bloom on the roadside. These latter are called by\nthe natives \u201cEky skulema njoju,\u201d \u201cthat which gets the better of the\nelephants,\u201d for although the bark is comparatively slender, it can\nstubbornly resist the force of the powerful elephant trunks that make\nmatchwood of the larger forest trees.\n\nTwo days further marching brought us to the boundary of Ankole, and glad\nwere we to leave behind the rains of Toro, which had made the paths so\nslimy that with difficulty we maintained the perpendicular. Our peaceable\ncaravan was evidently mistaken for a raiding horde. The villagers were\nin a most perturbed state of mind as we pressed on; the men collected\ntogether all their women, children, and goats and packed them off with\nall speed to hide in the swamps and hills, while a few of them remained\nhidden on the outskirts of the huts to sound an alarm at our approach.\n\nThe language at this point deviated from that spoken by the people of\nToro. Besides employing a few entirely different words, the Banyankole\nsoften down the s, j, and k, and until the ear has become accustomed\nto these changes one might imagine it a distinct dialect. A rather\nwelcome sight was the _men_ working on the roads and digging in the\nbanana plantations, in place of the peasant _women_ who do all the rough\nmanual work in Toro. Ankole is a large ranch country. A gentle range of\nmountains extending toward the east shores of the Albert Edward is the\nonly interruption to an extensive area of rolling land of which the whole\nkingdom is composed. It is inhabited by two separate races, the Bairu,\nwho are the original people of the country, and the Bahima, the ruling\nrace. The latter are an extremely superior order of people; generally\nspeaking, they are of lighter complexion, and their features, in the\nsharply defined nose and chin and the thin lips, are in marked contrast\nto the other tribes of inland Africa. Another peculiar characteristic\nis that the women live in entire seclusion and keep the face and head\ncovered, as in Mahommedan lands. It is generally believed that they\nmigrated from Abyssinia or Arabia; probably disease among their cattle\ndrove them from their native land, and they travelled south until they\nreached the pasture land of Ankole.\n\nAt first sight the country looks scarcely inhabited\u2014there are no\nfences or patches of cultivation which elsewhere denote villages. The\npopulation, however, is considerable, but the people are a tribe of\nherdsmen, who build unpretentious little grass huts among the soft,\nwaving grass, and live almost exclusively on their cattle, which graze\ntogether in enormous herds. The oxen are splendid creatures, with immense\nhorns; there is not so much hump with them as with the cattle of Uganda.\n\nThe unvaried diet of milk and butter has produced a people of abnormal\ndimensions. The King, although only about 19 years of age, weighed 20\nstone. He could not walk, but had to be carried about in a gigantic kind\nof clothes-basket. One little chief waddled into our tent to salute\nus who stood about three feet high and was nearly twice as large in\ncircumference. The higher a person is in social position the larger is\nthe amount of milk he must daily get down in order that he may reach a\nworthy correspondence in weight. On one occasion, while walking along\nthe road, we heard screaming and shouting coming from a hut, and, on\ngoing in to find out the cause, saw a young princess with her eyes\nbandaged and face dripping with milk; an old hag was standing over her\nwith a cane, which she brought sharply down across her shoulders when\nthe unfortunate girl declared she could take in no more milk. Being\nremonstrated with, the old woman explained how the young princess was\nonly going through the customary preparation for her bridal days.\n\nAs Uganda gradually opens up, Ankole will probably become the Leadenhall\nMarket of the Protectorate. Excellent roads have been cut for transport\nto Entebbe, on the shores of the Victoria Nyanza, to Albert Edward Nyanza\nand Koki, and the Government has built a strong fort at Mbarara, the\ncapital of Ankole, which is under civil and military control.\n\nAfter years of bigoted opposition to the missionaries, the country has\nnow been thrown open to them. A large mud church had just been completed\nwhen we visited there, and a large number of men and women were under\nChristian instruction. For generations there had stood in the Royal\ncourtyard a large drum, which was absolutely believed to bring death to\nthe King who beat it. Immediately after the baptism of the King, he,\nKahaya, in the sight of a large crowd of his subjects, went deliberately\ntowards the drum; then, loosening the sticks, he stood for a moment\nlooking round at his people, who were expecting his instantaneous death.\nWith one mighty swing he brought the sticks down on the drum, which only\nthundered out, as it were, the doom which fell that day on their old\nheathen superstitions.\n\nSoon after arriving at the capital we went to pay our respects to the\nRoyal Household.\n\nPassing out from the new mud \u201cpalace\u201d of the King, I went across to the\nladies\u2019 quarters. The seven wives of His Majesty Kahaya, who at that\ntime was only an inquirer after Christianity, were all sitting silently\nin a semi-circle round the inside of their grass hut. The atmosphere was\nunbearably stuffy, and reeking with odours of rancid butter, for the\ncustom is to rub this well into their bodies, and, without washing off\nthe stale, they rub in a fresh quantity each day. They treat in exactly\nthe same way the bark cloths in which they entirely envelop themselves.\nNot until I had become accustomed to the dim light could I distinguish\nthe seven shrouded, dusky figures. Then they resembled so many ant\nheaps. After the usual voluminous salutations, they begged me to take\noff my hat and show my hair. I agreed, if they, on their part, showed me\ntheir faces. Immediately fourteen merry eyes popped out of the oily bark\ncloths, and a row of fat, smiling faces appeared. After satisfying their\ninquisitive questions about my clothes, my age, my parents, and how long\nI had been married, I tried to find out a little about them. From what\nI could learn, they seemed to spend all their lives huddled together as\nI saw them, with absolutely nothing to do except to feed. They neither\ncooked, sewed, plaited grass, cultivated, nor worked at any of the small\nindustries common among other tribes. The Christian women teachers were\nvisiting them each day, and a large number of women had shown a real\ndesire to read. As their minds have been allowed to lie dormant for so\nlong, it is a wonder that they can learn to do so really quickly.\n\nAfter a few happy days spent in Ankole, we pushed on in a south-easterly\ndirection to Koki. Scarcity of water necessitated rather longer marches\nthan usual, so I indulged in the luxury of a hammock. Six men were\ntaken on as carriers who did not understand the art in the least. They\nliterally galloped away with me. The hammock swung to and fro with such\nforce that the ropes on the pole gradually slackened, and the canvas\nhung like a sling with its burden doubled up inside. My gesticulations\nand calls were quite unavailing, as the carriers ran on, singing gaily;\nthen they suddenly hauled the pole over from one shoulder to another,\nwhich was more than it could stand, and, with a squeak of pain, the\nropes burst, and the hammock fell with a big bump to the ground. While\nI stood endeavouring to recover from the rather boisterous mode of\ntravelling, the carriers walked round inspecting the shattered ropes and\ncongratulated each other on being such men of strength!\n\nWe had reached a wide, scorching plain with no trees or shelter save a\nfew tall thorn bushes, which made the ground all about like a pincushion\nwith the points standing out. We had come along at such a rate that\nthe caravan _and_ lunch basket were miles behind. One hundred and five\nminutes were spent under that thorn bush waiting for the rear with\nnothing to read, nothing to look at, and nothing to eat. I tried to think\na thought that might find a niche in my next journal letter, but the sun\nmust have nearly melted all the brain cells as it poured down its burning\nrays, for nothing took shape. To punish the men for their rash behaviour\nI inflicted on my carriers the punishment of searching for firewood, so\nthat when our detached corps joined us we soon had the kettle singing\nand a chicken frizzling to replenish exhausted strength and revive our\nfainting spirits. The following morning camp was awake at 4.0 a.m., and\na hurried start was made in the dark so as to get the day\u2019s march over\nbefore the sun had a chance of treating us as it had done previously.\nBut it was rather an unfortunate day to have tried the experiment, as\nour path for the first three or four miles skirted a long swamp, the\nhaunt of mosquitoes, and these little pests had not been frightened away\nby sunrise before we ventured through their domain. They swarmed round\nus like locusts, and although we kept furiously beating out at them in\nall directions at once, the prodigious application of Homocea afterwards\nwas, for the first time in my experience, ineffectual in allaying the\ninflammation and irritation. We spied a few monkeys in the trees, but\ninstead of being up to their usual pranks they solemnly sat staring\nat each other, looking deplorably sorry for themselves; evidently the\nmosquitoes had proved too much even for them. I am sure they would have\nbeen willing to pay a pied piper any fee.\n\nAfter five days journeying from Ankole we reached Rakai, the capital of\nKoki. The C.M.S. had two ladies stationed there and an ordained Muganda.\n\nKoki was in former years an independent kingdom ruled over by Kamswaga,\nbut in recent years it has been joined to Uganda, on the King agreeing to\nbecome a \u201cSaza\u201d of his stronger neighbours.\n\nExcepting for Lake Kanyeti, which twists about among rich and varied\nvegetation, the scenery is unattractive\u2014in the dry season the chalky soil\ngives an an\u00e6mic appearance to the country, and the rather too plentiful\nsupply of swamps necessitates a large stock of quinine being always at\nhand. Kamswaga himself at that time had gone up to Entebbe on business,\nbut hearing of our expected arrival had left us a greeting in the shape\nof an ox and quantities of food for our caravan. Visitors in these parts\nwere rather a novelty, and the people came down in large numbers to look\nat us. I returned the visit of the wife of Kamswaga before leaving. Her\nreception house quickly filled with a number of men and women, each\ntrying to get a word in edgeways with the \u201cwhite\u201d visitor. A handful\nof boiled coffee beans in the pods was passed to me to dispense to\nwhomsoever I wished to honour. I was obliged to take a share, but that\nwas very limited, for they are as hard as nuts to crack and like physic\nto swallow. On leaving they pressed round and bedecked my wrists with\nall sorts of curious wire and bead bracelets which they had taken off\nthemselves.\n\nThe work being carried on there was, happily, prospering. The school,\ndaily classes, and the church, holding two hundred people, were well\nattended.\n\nA whole day\u2019s excursion in a native skiff on the Lake gave us an\nopportunity of seeing something of the village work that has been opened\nup by the Mother Church of Rakai. We could not stay longer than three\ndays, as there was still a long programme before us. Budu was the next\ndistrict on the list to be visited.\n\nThis is the stronghold of Roman Catholicism. At every side road we found\na tall wooden cross standing and nearly everybody wore a medallion or\nscapular.\n\nAt Kajuna the people were evidently not accustomed to seeing European\nvisitors, and they came tearing out of their houses like mad creatures,\ndancing round us and clapping their hands. It was a perfect pandemonium,\nand we were not sorry to escape from such a rabble.\n\nThe two missionaries welcomed us very warmly. They were hard at work\non a much needed house for themselves. The new building was a unique\nstructure, for it was built only of one brick\u2014that is, the walls were\nformed of solid mud beaten down between wooden boards, which were removed\nwhen the mud had dried. The roof was thatched with strips of banana bark\nknotted on rows of poles. This is supposed to offer stronger resistance\nto lightning than the usual grass. A regular timber yard had been set\nup in a strip of Forest close by to supply doors and windows for the\nnew house, and the natives were receiving from the missionary practical\nlessons in carpentering as they felled the trees, adzed them out and then\nsawed out planks in pits. The scene suggested pictures of Canadian life\namong the Rockies. Truly a missionary in Uganda is a compendium of trades.\n\nOne of our hosts was an out-and-out Irishman, and when he was joined by\nan enthusiastic compatriot the conversation waxed very warm. I wonder if\neveryone belonging to the Emerald Isle regards it as the pole-star of the\nUniverse\u2014the two Sassenachs did not quite agree to it.\n\nAt the time of our visit twenty-one men and women were being finally\nquestioned with a view to baptism. No chiefs were then under Protestant\ninstruction, and in consequence there was little inducement for their\ndependents to associate themselves with our missionaries. It was\ntherefore very pleasing to find this number ready to publicly confess\ntheir faith in baptism, for one felt they must have been prompted by an\nhonest and sincere conviction.\n\nA fifteen miles march from Kajuna brought us to the shores of the\nLake Victoria Nyanza. Nearly six miles of the road was across a sand\nplain, and walking it was too much for me, for the boot at each step\nsank in four to six inches of burning sand. I was obliged to call the\nhammock-bearers to my assistance, who panted along without a murmur; but\nwhen they had safely landed me under the first tree of a lovely wood,\nthey exclaimed \u201cWe are nearly dead.\u201d\n\nThe two boats provided for us looked very frail and small to carry two\nEuropeans, eight \u201cboys,\u201d two steersmen, two balers-out of water, twelve\nrowers, and all our loads. The boats on this Lake are constructed of\nboards hewn out by native knives, and sewn together with cane. There are\nno seats for passengers, but sticks and grass are laid at the bottom.\nThere was a big gale blowing when we wanted to make a start\u2014foam-crested\nwaves broke on the shingly shore as if it had been the Atlantic. One is\nsurprised to miss the brine in the spray, forgetting momentarily that so\nimmense an expanse of fretful water is other than an ocean. We waited two\nhours for the storm to abate, when the boatmen came saying we could put\noff. As soon, however, as we had rowed well out, the wind got up again\nand blew with terrific force; immediately the lake was lashed into anger,\nand had no mercy on our little craft. The oarsmen were quite unable to\nkeep her from being driven broadside to the storm. Sitting at the bottom\nof the boat we watched wave after wave bear down upon us like a wall and\nbreak over our heads. The boatmen assured us that we could not stand\nmuch more, for the cane fibre that kept the boat together was rotten and\ngiving way under the strength of the breakers. The heavy tossing made\nus feel wretchedly sea-sick, but we dared not let our courage flag, as\nthe men were losing heart. We had drifted completely out of our course,\nbut fortunately were driven toward one of the Sese Islands, which we\nultimately reached, drenched through and very exhausted. Here we pitched\nour tent for the night, and as evening came a dead calm settled down on\nthe Lake, and insect life awoke, swarming round us in clouds. All night\nwe kept waking up to assure ourselves that we had not contracted sleeping\nsickness, as this was one of the haunts of that disease.\n\nThe next morning dawned bright and calm, so we started before sunrise,\nstartling the many gulls, divers, and herons that were indulging in a\nmorning bath. The paddlers broke out into weird nautical songs; there is\ngenerally one man in a boat whose special work is to lead the singing\nto encourage the oarsmen. He begins with a loud shrill note, sustaining\nit with a few minor variations till a short stanza of the song is sung;\nthen all the others join in with a deep, guttural grunt of assent to the\nwords; this is repeated over and over and over again until the voice\ncracks. Seven hours\u2019 rowing was as much as they would undertake in a\nday, so we landed on a beautiful little island which since then has been\nentirely depopulated by sleeping sickness. The sun was just about to say\ngood-night when we put into Entebbe on the following day. The view from\nthe water was quite enchanting. A bold, rocky promontory reminded one of\na bit of the borderland coast between England and Scotland, otherwise the\nshore and islands were covered with the most prodigious forest growth.\n\nAs we landed from the boats and looked up at this town we really asked\nourselves if this were Uganda. There are rows of neat villas with the\nstrips of gardens back and front resembling the bijous of London suburban\nlife; splendid wide roads with avenues of trees planted; a market with\nan English butcher, a dairy, an Indian bakery where delicious little\nloaves can be purchased for four annas, and an aggressive Indian firm\nthat is the William Whiteley of Uganda, and manufactures mineral waters\nat two annas per bottle, are some among the many surprises. There is\na very cosmopolitan population, and comparatively few of the real\nnatives\u2014Baganda\u2014are seen in the town. The fifty or more Europeans made\nit feel very homelike after the isolated life in Toro; and yet after the\nfirst surprised impressions had partially worn off, one was conscious\nof two distinct elements running side by side\u2014the English and the\nAfrican\u2014without actually becoming assimilated the one by the other. The\nresult was that so many reminders of England brought with them feelings\nof home-sickness, but the next moment one was sympathising with the\ncountry yokel in London who pined for the rusticity of village home life.\n\nOur four days there were spent very pleasantly. Colonel Sadler, H.M.\nCommissioner, Mrs. Sadler, and several friends were most kind and\nhospitable; indeed we were almost strangers to our tents.\n\nA visit to the Botanical Gardens was most interesting. Mr. Mahon, who\nwas then in charge, took us round and pointed out the tea, coffee, cocoa\nand cotton shrubs which gave promise of agreeing very amiably with their\nnewly-adopted land. Fruit trees, vines and pine apples were also being\nexperimented on, and the flower beds were aflame with colour. The idea\nis, I believe, to test what flourishes successfully in the Uganda soil,\nthen to send out cuttings and encourage the cultivation of that plant\nthroughout the Protectorate. Colonel Coles, who is in command of the\ntroops, is a very keen horticulturalist, and has been most successful in\nrose-growing and in bringing to perfection the native crinum lily.\n\nLeaving Entebbe, we made for Port Munyonyo by canoe, which took six hours\nin consequence of a wind working against us all the way. Reaching the\nPort at 5.0 p.m. we had no time to inspect the vigorous dhow-building\nthat was in operation. We hurried off on our seven to eight mile walk\ninto Mengo, which we reached just after seven o\u2019clock. A roast leg of\ngoat and steaming potatoes were being served up by our kind hostess as we\nentered. I think we had rarely enjoyed a dinner more than that one, as\nwe had eaten nothing since 7.0 a.m. excepting two cold sausages and some\nbread and milk, the only things procurable from our food basket in the\ncanoe.\n\nThis was the only time I had visited Mengo since first arriving in\nthe country, and it was interesting to find out how many of one\u2019s\nfirst impressions remained. Two years ago it had been to me a country\nunpenetrated, its people and language unknown, and now in a limited\u2014very\nlimited\u2014degree the closed door had been pushed open and something\nfrom within had been revealed. In that time Mengo seemed to have made\nwonderful progress. A colossal brick cathedral stood on the site of\nthe previous wicker building; it is a striking witness of what the\nBaganda can be taught to accomplish under such persevering and able\ninstruction and superintendence as they have received. The educational\nwork had developed considerably. At 8.0 one morning we went across to\nMr. Hattersley\u2019s boys school; he certainly had his work cut out, for I\nshould not like to guess at the number of men and boys that were packed\ninto the large class rooms, through which ran rows of desks and forms\nmade at the Industrial Mission. At each class stood a native teacher\nsetting sums or copies on the blackboards. His pupils were a strange\ncollection, for a grey-bearded old chief would be sitting next to a\nsharp eyed infant, both eagerly wrestling with pen and ink. Specimens of\nwriting, which had been acquired in six months, were shown to us, and\nthey compared very favorably with a fourth or fifth standard in England.\nEvery afternoon classes were held for the teachers for instruction in\nblackboard writing, geography, astronomy, natural history and Scripture,\nand these men were being sent out to the villages for educational work,\nwhen their course was completed. Since that time, scholastic work has\nreceived very special attention. A boarding high school for the sons of\nchiefs was opened in 1904, and the number of lads that were immediately\nsent by their fathers or guardians was a proof of its need. The Baganda\nare quite conscious of the fact that the time has come to rouse and equip\nthemselves in order that they may be able to stand before the civilized\nnations with whom they are now brought so closely in touch.\n\nA third school is also in course of erection, which will be an\nintermediate step for those desiring to train afterwards for Holy Orders.\n\nThe Industrial Department of the Mission is certainly one of the most\nnecessary and practical methods of helping these people who possess\nno trades or crafts of their own. On passing along the road toward\nthe Industrial quarters, one sees a crowd of men hard at work in the\nbrick-fields, and others employed at rope-making. Entering the actual\nwork-shop compound a buzz and whirr of machinery meet the ear. The first\nbuilding is the carpenter\u2019s sheds; here were men turning out book-cases,\nchairs, tables, and really a first-class sideboard. Across the courtyard\nthe printers and stitchers were hard at work producing Lunyoro hymn\nsheets, Luganda hymns, Luganda commentary on St. Mark, and a book of\nUganda fables by Ham Mukasa. Until within six months of our visit all\nthis work, including the building of the Cathedral, had been started and\nsupervised by one man. Uganda owes a great debt to Mr. Borup for the\ninvaluable help thus rendered to the country.\n\nThe hospital, which was nearing its opening day when I had first seen\nit, was now in good working order and quite full up with patients; some,\nalas, suffering from the dread sleeping sickness.\n\nNo one then dreamed that the fine building was on the eve of being\ncompletely destroyed by fire. But such was the case. Within a very few\nmonths the scene of pain, yet of peace and comfort, had given place to\none of noisy activity, for on the old spot there was immediately put in\nhand the erection of the present solid brick building with an iron roof\nto resist the lightning which destroyed its predecessor, and a concrete\nfloor that can withstand the constant traffic up and down the wards.\nAfter a few days we again set off on the march, making for Bunyoro, in a\nnortherly direction. A good road had been cut for a distance of a hundred\nmiles by order of the Government for transport purposes toward the Nile.\nOn the second day we overtook an oxen wagon caravan, which was being\nconducted by a young Englishman, who we found was down with bad fever and\ncough. We sent him milk and meat juice, but could not dissuade him from\npushing on in the evening. The scarcity of food for porters on the road\nmakes delays very difficult, and in his case, travelling by night was\nessential as the oxen cannot bear the heat of the day. But being jostled\nalong on springless carts in the damp and cold African nights did not\nsuggest much comfort for a patient suffering from malaria!\n\nNext day on arriving in camp we found no less than three other European\ncaravans settling in. A military captain and a ship captain were coming\ndown from Bunyoro, and a trader was making for that direction.\n\nUganda is getting overrun with civilization! There is generally a\nlittle consternation and hurried confusion when an English woman is\nseen in camp. There is at once a shout for the \u201cboy\u201d who had relieved\nthe pedestrian of his coat on the march, and a long search is made for\nthe razor that very apparently had been some days in disuse. One of\nour fellow travellers who came in at afternoon tea suggested that a\nnew regulation should be passed by the Government, ordering all ladies\ntravelling on the road to send a white flag three miles ahead to warn\nfellow countrymen!\n\nWe did some fairly long marches on this road, as we were anxious to\ncomplete our tour, and although fifteen to eighteen miles do not look\nanything to the Londoner who is accustomed to record spins on his\nbicycle, yet I think he would find five hours walking day after day a\nlaborious task, especially when it means rising at 4.0 a.m. We had been a\nlittle unfortunate in our culinary arrangements, for our cook was taken\nill and had been obliged to return to Toro. We took on a substitute from\nour porters\u2019 ranks, who knew nothing about cooking. I carefully taught\nhim how to turn out a decent pancake which he seemed really to master,\nbut a few days afterwards he served up hard, solid, flour-and-water\ndough-balls, saying he feared he had forgotten the recipe, so the process\nof teaching had to be gone through over again. He never would believe\nthat anything could be cooked without water\u2014roast goat he cooked in\nquantities of it instead of fat, and buttered eggs were swimming in brown\nswamp water! Then all our other boys got down with fever, and one day we\nwere without a single attendant.\n\nWhen we were half-way to Bunyoro, a Nubian caravan encamped close to\nus. We instantly ordered a close watch to be kept on our goods, as these\nfolk have the reputation of being not too strictly honest. In spite,\nhowever, of vigilant guard, very soon things were missing. We succeeded\nin rescuing some articles from one of their temporary huts, but a large\nplate, which converted an open cooking pot into an African oven, was\nnever found, and so we were deprived of bread and all baked food for the\nremainder of our journey.\n\nThe country was a monotony of undulating land, with no hills, forests, or\nrivers to interrupt the continuity of sameness. For three days we were\ntravelling through a district of Uganda called Singo, where eight years\nago Mr. Fisher was stationed. A particularly dreary spot was pointed out\nto me as the place where he lived for months quite alone, and had one\nattack after another of fever. During one of those occasions, a woman,\nthe wife of the district chief, came a long distance twice a day to nurse\nhim, and, when he lapsed into unconsciousness, she took a razor and\nshaved his head to ease him. He was rather a shock to himself when he was\nwell enough to see his own reflection in the lid of a Huntley & Palmer\u2019s\nbiscuit tin\u2014the only looking-glass then in his possession, as he had lost\nmost of his things through a recent act of incendiarism.\n\nWe were delighted to catch sight of the hills that lie round Hoima, the\ncapital of Bunyoro, on the seventh day. Mr. Lloyd, who had been Mr.\nFisher\u2019s fellow-worker in Toro, and chaperon to the party from England of\nwhich I had formed part, came scorching down on his bicycle to meet us,\nwith a large following of natives who had come to greet \u201ctheir father.\u201d\nIn the year 1895 Mr. Fisher had visited these people, who, up to that\ntime, had never heard of Christianity, and in 1898 was located at Hoima\nin order to establish a European Station. Then the country was in the\ngrasp of famine; the people, from the King down to his peasant subjects,\ncame each day to the European teacher and his two Baganda assistants\nbegging food. Through the generosity of friends in England and Uganda,\na fund was organized, and with presents in kind from the Christians in\nUganda and Toro, hundreds of the Bunyoro were saved from starvation. With\nthe return of the rains, the famine terminated, but this time of trouble\nhad created and cemented a confidence between the natives and missionary,\nwho learned to know them then better than if he had lived years in the\ncountry at the time of its prosperity. The King, his brothers, sister,\nand several of the leading chiefs, became sincere inquirers after\nChristianity, and ultimately acknowledged their faith in public baptism.\n\nThe kingdom of Bunyoro is one of the most ancient now existing in inland\nAfrica. Formerly it was the pre-eminent power of all the districts round\nand including Uganda, but for many years its strength has been on the\nwane through internal disaffections and external warfare. Toro, which was\nonce ruled over by Bunyoro, broke away from its rule, and the Baganda\ngradually ascended north, appropriating to themselves large districts\nof Southern Bunyoro. Kabarega, then King of Bunyoro, was for years the\nterror of the surrounding weaker tribes. He was quite a remarkable\ncharacter. Realizing the gradual decadence of his kingdom, with\npersistent effort and despotism he rallied his people together for one\nmighty struggle to regain their lost power. Marching on the surrounding\nweaker tribes, he raided, plundered, and burnt their villages, and King\nKasagama (of Toro) and his people fled to the mountains for shelter.\nBut in 1899 the British Government sent up a force of Baganda under\nColonel Evett, who succeeded in taking prisoner Kabarega. The latter has\nsince remained a prisoner in the Seychelles Islands. His son Andereya,\nan earnest Christian and an able man, is now reigning in his stead.\nThe Bunyoro have always had a most elaborate priesthood and abundant\nritual connected with their belief; hence it will be a long time before\nheathen customs and degrading forms of superstition will be effectually\nup-rooted.\n\n[Illustration: OUR HOME IN TORO.]\n\nAfter the discomforts of the road it was delightfully restful to\nrevel in the refreshing luxury of easy chairs, sipping cups of tea,\nsurrounded with a hundred and one reminders of dear old England, while\na pink-cheeked, chubby baby grabbed at the flat nose of his black boy\nnurse and cooed with satisfaction at having two, new, civilized admirers.\nA week spent with Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd, during which time we were enabled\nto visit the people and hold some meetings with them, brought us to\nthe final stage of our circular trip\u2014a seven days\u2019 march home. The\nanticipation of once more seeing Ruwenzori, our mud bungalow house, and\nall the Batoro folk, made one forget to write notes and comments of\nthose few days. But no written records were necessary to keep at least\none day green in the memory. The wet season had begun in real earnest,\nwhich did not improve the many unbridged swamps that lay across our path\nat constant intervals. One day we were plunging through grass, often\ntwelve feet high, for nearly three hours right off. Emerging from that,\nwe had to pass through a succession of nine swamps. The only possible\nmeans of getting across was to sit on the shoulder of a thoroughly sturdy\nand sure-footed porter, holding on with all one\u2019s might to his woolly\nhead. At the ninth swamp I had maintained that position for ten minutes,\nwith feet held straight out in front, as my noble carrier stumbled among\na broken down bridge, sometimes to his armpits in black mud. Actually\nweeping tears, I called down to my steed, \u201cMy friend, you must put me\ndown, my back is broken with weariness.\u201d Without a word he floundered off\nthrough the grass, having spied a fallen tree trunk on which to put down\nhis burden. There we stood panting, too tired to speak, but a hallooing\nand a shouting at one side made us both turn round. There we saw the\nother European in a most indescribably mixed-up position, being brought\nalong on the shoulders of two men, while two more hung on to a leg each.\nWith scarcely a note of warning, the front man lost his foothold and\ndisappeared with the second. The European immediately followed suit, but\nthe remaining two stood their ground, still holding on to those legs.\n\nNever did the Mountains of the Moon appear more fascinating than when\nwe returned to our home under their shadow after nine weeks\u2019 absence.\nThe first to welcome us, four miles out on the road, was old Apolo\nKivebulaya, the native deacon. Close by on his heels followed my little\ngod-son, the first baptised pigmy, who looked characteristically grimy,\nbut his ugly little face appeared really pleasing as he ran up and\nwelcomed his master and mistress back with a grin that seemed to stretch\nfrom one ear to another. Then the Katikiro came out with thirty to forty\nretainers, all of whom he had dressed up in brand new white linen turban\ncaps as a token of welcome to us. Last of all rode out the King. \u201cWell\ndone, my friends. God be praised for bringing you back.\u201d And we could\nonly in our hearts respond \u201cAmen.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: TABALA, CHIEF OF MBOGA, AND SUITE.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTramp IV. Towards the Pigmies\n\n\nWhile the Kingdom of Toro has distinctly defined boundaries on the East,\nNorth, and South (the latter two being the Albert and Albert Edward\nNyanzas) there are no lines of demarcation that bound it on the West. It\nadjoins the Protectorate to the Belgian territory that extends across\nfrom the Congo Free State, and until that boundary is officially fixed\nthe Kingdom of Toro may be said to include a number of untamed savage\ntribes with a portion of the pigmies, who recognise no authority and rule\noutside themselves.\n\nImmediately the Toro Mission was established its first branch station\nwas planted about sixty miles west in Mboga, the district that touches\nStanley\u2019s Great Forest\u2014the home of the pigmies. Although the chief\noffered much opposition to the Baganda missionaries, yet the workers\npersistently held on, realising its important strategic position for\nreaching the many tribes round its borders, and it formed one of the few\nlast links yet to be forged in order that Krapf\u2019s dream of a chain of\nmissions extending across Africa might be fulfilled. After opposition\nhad burnt itself out and the Chief Tabala had himself become a Christian\nthe work prospered vigorously, and in 1903 the number of men and women\nbaptised reached over two hundred.\n\nIn that year the question of boundary line between Belgian and British\nterritory was again raised to be finally marked out. The decision would\neither result in the district of Mboga being retained by the British,\nor given over to the Belgians in exchange for a strip of land farther\nsouth, in which latter case the River Semliki would form the natural\ndividing line.\n\nIt was considered expedient, pending the arrangement between the two\nGovernments to strengthen in every way possible the mission work at Mboga\nso that it might not be shaken should it ultimately lie outside the\nUganda Protectorate.\n\nIt was, therefore arranged that in the five months remaining before\nleaving for furlough in England we should fit in a visit to that\ndistrict. The time of year fixed on for starting was a little\nunfortunate, as the wet season was in full working order, and that never\nadds an enviable charm to the gipsy life of African travelling. It was\nevident that we were getting near the end of the prescribed period of\nservice, for instead of gaily trudging off in stout boots and puttees, we\npushed off from Kabarole with a donkey and a hammock, the only available\nmodes of conveyance.\n\nWhen only three miles out we were overtaken by one of Toro\u2019s special\nstorms. The heavily laden clouds had been running off towards the west\nwhen Ruwenzori stood in their way and forbade them. So, in a terrible\ntemper, they turned back and gave us the full benefit of their tears. My\nhammock bearers did not seem to mind; certainly they had nothing on that\nwould spoil, and I believe these casual drenchings are the only occasions\non which many of them feel the touch of water on their bodies. I have\noften seen them trying to avoid even this by taking shelter under a tree\nand holding a huge banana leaf over their head, when only clothed in a\ntiny goat skin. The donkey slipped along behind with its rider enveloped\nin a commodious mackintosh that left only the donkey\u2019s nose and feet\nvisible. In order to get to the mission station of Busaiga, where we were\nto spend a day, we had to turn off for two miles along a sloppy kind\nof sheep-track path, which the donkey managed better than my men, who\nstumbled along in the mud, very fearful lest they should let their burden\ndown. The man carrying our bath went before to warn them of danger; but\nwe passed him half-way, for with a splash he fell. No one seemed to\nregard it as anything unusual, and continued marching on. Looking over\nthe side of my hammock, the last I saw of him was a hopeless mix-up of\nblack man\u2019s limbs and bath sitting in inches of mud.\n\nIt was very good to find a big fire burning and a hot cup of tea ready in\na well swept native house that had been prepared for us, and designated\nfor our temporary use. In the afternoon our tent was well surrounded by\nbroad grins and inquisitive eyes as we were \u201cat home\u201d to callers. They\ncontinued coming in from 1.30 to 5.30, by which time the air felt heavy,\nso we escaped for an evening look-out. The complete range of mountains\nwas clearly defined from south to north and terminated close to us, in\nthe Semliki plain. Towards their northern base rested a heavy dense bank\nof white cloud that slowly glided along. When it had reached the farthest\nshoulder of the range, it woke from its soliloquy and with a mighty\neffort plunged upwards, and in a few minutes flooded the whole country\nwith a dense, damp mist.\n\nThe first of May dawned in all the brightness of its reputation. Lake,\nplain, valleys, and mountains appeared in their brightest garments to\ndo honour to the day, and the air trembled in its endeavour to laud the\nCreator. No wonder that the people swarmed out of their stuffy little\nhuts for morning service. It was then pointed out to them that their\nhouse of prayer needed rethatching, and in less than three hours the\n\u201crestoration of the church\u201d was completed, for streams of tiny naked\nfigures went off and returned with a few strands of grass balanced\non their heads; the women followed with heavier burdens, and the men\nwere standing ready to tie it into small bundles and stuff them into\nthe thatch. There was here as everywhere a great demand for \u201creading\nsheets,\u201d and those who did not possess five cowrie shells (half a\nfarthing) wherewith to purchase one brought in a bundle of firewood,\ntwo eggs, or undertook any little job in order to earn the sum. In the\nafternoon we had meetings for men and women. At each gathering over one\nhundred were present, which must have included nearly all the adult\ninhabitants of the place. The audiences one meets with in the villages\nare distinctly responsive; they evidently have an idea that it is a\nslight to leave the European to do all the talking. In the middle of your\n\u201csermon\u201d one native will burst out with \u201cAye, aye, that\u2019s so,\u201d and the\nwhole company will agree in chorus. Then, again, they will repeat after\nyou a whole sentence that has struck them, and when your oration is over\nthey all exclaim \u201cThat\u2019s very good; well done, very well done.\u201d It is\nmost encouraging to a nervous speaker.\n\nLeaving Busaiga, we descended to a wide plateau, which was most likely\nat one time a lake bed, but the water has run off and left it quite dry.\nThe curious parallel gorges, where villages now nestle, resemble immense\nyawning cracks formed by the land calling out for water. In one of these\nclefts, where there was a sleepy little hamlet, we pitched camp. The old\nchief of the place was sitting in his courtyard contentedly smoking a\nhuge pipe. He did not take the least notice of our arrival, and, from\nwhat he said, if we had been a party of plunderers, he would have assumed\nexactly the same immovable attitude. It was a very stuffy place; the heat\nseemed to fall down listlessly in the little valley and had no strength\nto move off at night. As for the varieties of insects that visited us as\nthe candles were lit, even the most initiated naturalist must have been\npuzzled at classifying them.\n\n[Illustration: THE SEMLIKI RIVER.]\n\nOn the following day we were up at daybreak to cheat the sun, which we\nexpected would do its worst for us in the exposed Semliki plain. When we\nreached that level, although it was only 8.0 a.m., the heat was almost\nunbearable. The little donkey must have felt it rather badly, for it\nupset itself in the mud, and this twisted into weird contortions the\ninvaluable umbrella that was being carried on its back. The Semliki River\nhas to be crossed half-way across the plain; its waters are of a thick\ngrey colouring, and in them are smuggled away crocodiles, all sorts of\nfierce fish with tusk-like teeth, and fever germs. A big dug-out canoe\ncame over from the opposite bank to ferry us across, and then returned to\nfetch our porters, ass, and cows. The animals took most naturally to the\nskiff\u2014which might perhaps be traced back to their ancestors of the Ark\nperiod.\n\nIn the cool of the afternoon an old fisherman punted me out in his canoe.\nHe attracted my attention to a big crocodile drawn up on the bank\u2014it\nsuddenly woke from its sleep and slipped into the water for an evening\nablution. These dug-outs are scarcely what you might call inviting. I\nhave never seen one that does not leak considerably, and it is difficult\nto imagine yourself comfortable when seated on a few rushes at the bottom\nof the boat, feeling all the time the water oozing in under you.\n\nAntelopes simply abound in the plain. In one spot alone there must have\nstood forty of these peaceful creatures. They evidently understand that\nall their district is preserved against the sportsman, for they now\nventure quite close to the path and look at passers by with the greatest\nimpertinence. Two fine creatures with handsome antlers stood defying our\ncaravan only about fifty yards away, and simply refused to be frightened\noff.\n\nMboga stands on a ridge of hills about 18 miles on the opposite side of\nthe plain to Ruwenzori. The scenery was in charming contrast to that\non the previous day\u2019s journey as we lifted up on to high land. Forest\narteries flowed through every bend and hollow from the great aorta of\nStanley\u2019s Pigmy Forest that stretched away for miles behind the Mboga\nHills. The trees closely resembled the English oak and mountain ash;\nthere was a marked scarcity of flowers, and my butterfly net remained\nquite limp as we climbed up for three hours till the Mission station\nappeared in sight. The people that came out to meet us broke up into two\nparts; the one went with Mr. Fisher to superintend camping operations,\nand I was borne off by the others to the Chief\u2019s reception hall to hold\naudience with his mother, who had ready a big black native pot of smoked\nmilk to offer me. Over one hundred women then streamed in to look at\nthe first European lady who had visited their country. They exclaimed,\n\u201cBwana Fisher has much grace and love, for he was the first white man\nto come and tell us of the religion of Christ, and now he has brought\nto us the first lady.\u201d A large open shed had been erected by the Chief\nPaulo Tabalo, under which our tent could be erected and so sheltered\nfrom the burning heat of the day, and it also provided us with a large\nairy sitting room, which was necessary for the four weeks we intended to\nremain.\n\nThe first thing that was absolutely essential to take in hand was\nthe building of a new Church, for the reed one standing was totally\ninadequate to accommodate the people. Consequently each morning after a\nbrief service the men and women poured across to the new site to start\noperations. The men, headed by their Chief, went off into the forests for\npoles, and the women, laying aside their white linen draperies, handled\ntheir hoes, and in a few days had completely cleared the plot of all\nthe long grass with which it had been covered. It was quite astonishing\nto see the rapidity with which everybody went to work, and although the\nproposed large mud church looked rather a formidable undertaking, the\nChristians insisted on building a permanent mud house adjoining the\nChurch, which they hoped would secure more frequent visits from the\nMissionary, or procure them an ordained teacher from Uganda.\n\nThe late Sir Henry Stanley, in \u201cDarkest Africa,\u201d has given a most vivid\npicture of Mboga in his time. It was there he met with so much trouble\nand savage opposition from the natives. Paulo Tabalo tells a thrilling\nstory of how his father collected together a large army to oppose the\ngreat white man on the banks of the Semliki River, but was compelled to\nflee, leaving behind a number of slain.\n\nOppression has given place to justice, turbulence to peace, and the most\nabject fear of and subordination to the Evil Spirit is gradually being\novercome by knowledge and trust in God.\n\nStepping out from our tent one evening, I strolled away to a near hill to\nwatch the sun set. As it slowly disappeared behind a low ridge of distant\nmountains it scattered trails of golden light across the plain, through\nwhich the white waters gleamed. Then for a few brief minutes the vast\nRuwenzori Range appeared completely vestured in a deep pink transparent\nmist, above which shone as a coronet the pure white snows. Never again in\nthe four weeks we spent there was such a wonderful effect repeated.\n\nThe hushed stillness was suddenly broken by a voice that issued from a\nlittle hut almost hidden from view. Glancing round a tall rock that stood\nbetween, I saw a dusky figure sitting in the doorway peeling potatoes\nfor the evening meal. She was quite unconscious of any intruder, and as\nshe bent down over her work she sang in the native tongue \u201cLike a river\nglorious is God\u2019s perfect peace.\u201d\n\nMboga of the present is a \u201cCave of Adullam\u201d to the numerous surrounding\ntribes who have fled from the hands of plunderers and raiders and come to\nsettle down under the peaceful rule of the Christian Chief.\n\nAmong the thirty-six men and women who had been instructed and were then\npresented for baptism there were representatives of five different\ntribes, three of whom were the first-fruits from those tribes. I held a\ndaily class with them for three weeks, and so had a chance of comparing\nthe brain power of these people. Certainly the one pigmy did not by any\nmeans stand last in the class; on the other hand, he displayed a very\nkeen perception and often turned round to his neighbour and tried rather\nimpatiently to rub in the point. On the other hand, he was entirely\nlacking in concentration, and it seemed impossible to pin his mind down\nto the subject under discussion. Every afternoon the people stopped\nwork for two hours in order to go to Church to listen to the white\nmissionaries\u2019 words. On the first Sunday a hint was thrown out to them\nthat they should study together in their homes, and so help each other to\nunderstand their Bibles better. The day following Paulo called his people\ntogether in his audience hall and told them that they had listened to\nvery good words from their European friend and teacher, and he felt that\nif they were to become strong and be blessed by God they ought to carry\nout the advice given. Several of them thereupon started systematic Bible\nstudy in their homes. Many of the Christian women came to my afternoon\nclass with questions prepared which they had planned out together; and\nthey helped each other to make notes of my answers. I was surprised at\nthe intelligence shown in their questionings, for they had received\npractically little teaching and are not naturally sharp. They asked many\nthings about the Epistles, when they were written, whether on St. Paul\u2019s\njourneyings or when in imprisonment; then they wanted to know the meaning\nof \u201cAlpha and Omega\u201d and \u201cthe woman clothed with the sun,\u201d etc., etc.\n\nOne afternoon, just as the class was closing, I looked up, and in the\ndoorway of the Church stood two most repelling figures. Their hair had\ngrown to the shoulders and was rolled into thin streaks with an ample\nquantity of white goat\u2019s fat; they wore a mere fragment of clothing, and\nheld in their hands a bow and sheaf of arrows. My lesson came to a dead\nstandstill, and I asked the women who the two men were. \u201cThey eat each\nother,\u201d was the reassuring response. I dismissed the class right away\nand made off, but found the two cannibals standing outside. Very bravely\nI went up and saluted them, but they only stared and grunted, then when\nI turned to hurry back to camp they came too! In spite of being told\nthat they only eat their own people, I did not like to run any risk, so\nenticed a number of women to come with me all the way to our tent by\nsaying I had some pictures just out from England to show them.\n\nAs we stood there in Mboga among some of the most primitive of the\nhuman races it was difficult to realize that they formed part of that\ngreatest existing empire of the world. Let us hope the time will soon\ncome when these people will be brought within the circle of its moral and\nintellectual influence as well as the circle of its civil rule. One can\nscarcely imagine that there ever existed a more unenlightened age in the\nhistory of man than the present twentieth century among these distant\nsubjects of Great Britain. From the brow of the Mission hill at Mboga no\nfewer than seven distinct practically untamed tribes, each with its own\npeculiar customs and dialect, lie within the range of eyesight. During\nthe four weeks spent in these parts we had an opportunity of coming in\ndirect contact with some people from each of these tribes, and as we\nlearned something of their habits and modes of existence we realised\nin a deeper sense than ever before the significance of the words, \u201cAnd\ndarkness was upon the face of the deep.\u201d\n\nAfter one month\u2019s life under canvas, nomadic life loses its charm,\nespecially when the rains are a little too generous. The last three weeks\nof our stay in Mboga proved somewhat distressful on this account, for\nthe storms beat down upon our skeleton shed and poured in through the\ntent almost daily. The wide trenches dug round our quarters were quite\nineffectual in carrying off the water which came sweeping in upon us like\na flood. Frequently we were obliged to sit on our chairs or boxes with\nour feet tucked under us while the water gaily took possession of the\nground floor of the tent.\n\nThen food was a difficulty, for no one would sell the few goats and\nchickens that they possessed. After the first fortnight they assured us\nthat we had eaten up all the chickens in the place! (In spite of this\nwe certainly lost weight.) Eggs were very scarce, and were sold at the\nsame price as a chicken, for, they argued, an egg is a chicken, and the\nones they brought for sale nearly proved their argument! All our boys\ngot ill with malarial fever, and when they were at their worst a case of\ncholera was brought in to me for treatment. This seemed to be an unknown\ncomplaint in these parts, and the people had no idea of its infectious\ncharacter. Already three deaths had occurred, and two households were\nstricken down with it through visiting the sick house. We immediately\nordered all the infected huts to be quarantined and the strictest\nattention given to the burning of all contaminated matter. Fortunately\nthe disease was thus checked from spreading, but not until four had\nsuccumbed to it.\n\nOur last Sunday spent there was a memorable occasion, for thirty-five men\nand women were admitted into the fold of Christ through the confession\nof their faith in Baptism, and sixty-two from this little \u201clighthouse\u201d\nstation united with us in Holy Communion. After the evening service two\nyoung men came forward and offered themselves to be trained as teachers\nto the villages beyond. So although darkness yet covers the land of\nMboga it might be said \u201cAnd the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the\nwaters.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nIn Darkest Africa. The Pigmies (Batwa) and their (Bambuba) Neighbours\n\n\nIn attempting to describe some of the tribes that we have come in contact\nwith round Mboga, I feel the first place should be given to the Pigmies,\nfor although they are the smallest of all folk, yet they are one of the\nmost ancient peoples of history. Not only do they appear in the pages\nof the Greek historian, Herodotus, but to-day their representatives may\nbe traced on the Pyramids. Beyond these bare facts of their existence\nnothing was definitely known about them until the late Sir Henry Stanley\npenetrated their forest home on his search for Emin Pasha, and startled\nthe civilised world by his marvellous accounts of these legendary folk.\nJudging from their present conditions of life it is impossible to believe\nthat they have made any advance, physically or morally, during the\nhundreds of years that have passed by since first they were known to the\noutside world.\n\n[Illustration: THE FOUR PIGMIES IN KABAROLE.]\n\nTheir home is one vast, impenetrable forest which extends about one\nhundred and twenty miles north to south and nearly two hundred miles\neast to west; without intermission its vegetation has assumed abnormal\nproportions; out of dense, tangled undergrowth the trees have forced\ntheir way, and, as if to find breathing space and shake themselves free\nof the crush and their tiresome parasites, have reached a gigantic\nheight. But the rubber plants, ivy, and creepers have proved equal to the\ntask, and pushed their way up the tree trunks, have crawled along from\nbranch to branch, until only glimpses of sunshine and sky appear through\nthe thick foliage.\n\nDoubtless this obscurity and the seclusion of their environment have\nacted as a narcotic on the development of the people.\n\nAlthough small of stature they are by no means dwarfs, for their little\nbodies of four feet to four feet eight inches are perfectly proportioned.\nA very close view shows them to be covered with an almost imperceptible\ndowny hair; on the arms this meets at the elbow as in monkeys. It may\nbe due to their habit of sitting with arms crossed round their neck\nwhile the rain constantly drips down upon them through the trees. Their\nfeatures are not prepossessing\u2014in fact they are really ugly; a very broad\nbridgeless nose and two wide protruding lips appropriate as much space as\nthe face can spare.\n\nThey possess no permanent homes, but are constantly on the move, never\nspending more than three to five days at one spot. They burrow among\nthe thick undergrowth, and make clearings round the trees in order to\nerect their tiny grass huts, which are built in less than an hour,\nwith saplings stuck round in a circle and tied at the top; grass and\nleaves are then thrown over as roofing. Very few adopt any clothing.\nEach man travels about with a bow and quiver of poisoned arrows in\norder that he may keep the family supplied in food. Although peaceable\namong themselves, there is no civil cohesion among the pigmies. They\nrecognise no king or chief; each man is perfectly free to control his own\nhousehold. There are no class distinctions; but the best huntsman will\nhave the largest following because with his spoils he is able to effect\nexchanges with the near neighbours of the tribe\u2014the Bambuba, a sturdy,\nthick-set race varying in height from four feet eight inches to five\nfeet, who live on the north-east fringe of the Forest.\n\n[Illustration: THE BA-AMBAS: NEAREST NEIGHBOURS TO THE PIGMIES.]\n\nNecessity has never taught the pigmies to make fires. They are dependent\non wood ashes from the Bambuba folk, which they carry about tied up in\nleaves, in which the fire smoulders for hours and is kindled into flame\nwith a little gentle blowing. The Bambuba have learned to produce fire\nby means of igniting two little bits of stick by friction. They also\nmake tiny torches of three or four thin twigs tied together by fibre;\nthese are dipped into rubber juice freshly drawn away from the plant;\nthen on the point of the torch is placed resin, which moderates the rate\nof combustion. One of these torches will keep burning for two to three\nhours. The pigmies do not cultivate the ground; they are exclusively\na tribe of huntsmen who travel about in search of their prey. Their\nremarkable agility enables them to spring from branch to branch when\nwatching the track of an animal. Often they are obliged to follow an\nelephant for hours before this forest monarch succumbs to the poisoned\ndart that has lodged itself in its tough skin; then as the huge animal\nrolls over like a thunderbolt falling, the little pigmies jump down\nfrom the trees, stand on the carcase, and draw out of a crude leather\nsheath their knives which have handles made of animals\u2019 bones; they then\ncommence cutting up the joints. Some of these will be carried off to\nthe agricultural Bambuba tribe, who give potatoes, Indian corn, knives,\nor arrows for the meat. The rest is taken up into the trees and dried,\nafter which it is either roasted or eaten raw. Although all their meat\nis poisoned they do not attempt to purify it, and the blood is regarded\nas a special delicacy. They do not, however, suffer any ill-effects, for\nthe poison is said to have lost its power when once it has acted. The\npigmies are regarded by the neighbouring tribes in very much the same\nway as the wild pigs, inevitable plunderers. At night they creep up to\nthe potato patches, under cover of the long grass, and carry off their\nbooty into the copse. No one dares to venture on revenge; indeed the\nsurrounding tribes stand in terror of the little people because of their\nwonderful powers of self-concealment and deftness with their bows.\n\nA pigmy rarely possesses more than one wife, and never more than two. A\nman purchases her with poison or fowls\u2014a woman is valued at eighty to one\nhundred chickens. The wives are treated kindly and with consideration;\nonly when a husband is provoked by abuse does he attempt to subdue his\nfractious helpmate by a sound beating.\n\nA pigmy baby is the funniest little atom imaginable. A woman once brought\nto me her infant of three months; it was her first, and she evidently\nregarded it as an exceptional beauty. It was about the size of a sixpenny\ndoll. I did not venture to touch it for fear of hurting it.\n\nHaving only reached the outskirts of the Congo Forest we never had\nan opportunity of seeing the pigmies at home. Those we have met and\nconversed with are women and boys that were stolen some years ago, and\nnow have no desire to go back to the forest. At Mboga we found seven\nunder Christian instruction, one of whom had been baptised. In Kabarole\nthere are two pigmy girls and one lad learning to read besides Blasiyo,\nwho was the first of his tribe to be baptised.\n\n[Illustration: BLASIYO, FIRST BAPTISED PIGMY.]\n\nHe was my first God-child, the first of these wee and ancient people to\nstep forth from their physical and spiritual darkness and before the\nlistening Host of Heaven declare his belief in God the Father, God the\nSon, and God the Holy Ghost, his faith for salvation, for salvation in\nChrist\u2019s sacrifice, and his desire to never be ashamed \u201cto fight under\nthe banner of the Cross.\u201d He is a quaint little figure, with a high sense\nof his own importance, and is quite able to stand his ground alone when\nassailed by his taller companions. Work is a great trouble to him, but\nhe is always ready for tricks and games. Football is his speciality,\nand he never misses a chance of squeezing his way into the game, even\nwhen the men\u2019s team is on the ground. In order that he might have a game\nwith his friends whenever he could shirk his work, he invented a very\ningenious football of a goat skin stuffed with dried banana leaves. While\nlearning to read we took him on our staff of boys, not that he did much\nwork, but in order that we might try and instil clean and industrious\nhabits into him. His duties were to help the cook by feeding the fire\nwith fuel and keeping clean the pots and pans, but when he knew his\nmaster and mistress were at lunch, he would run away from his post, and\nfetch a large ivory warhorn; then, taking up his position outside the\ndining-room window, would blow for all he was worth. He accompanied the\nblasts with weird, swaying movements that gradually developed into wild\ndancing, and transformed the little figure into a veritable imp or gnome.\nHis idea was that this entertainment would quite justify his act of\ntruancy; and he reasoned that if he could get his master and mistress to\nlaugh their anger would be dead, for laughter drives out wrath. When he\ncame to us, cleanliness was not a strong point with him, and he was for\nthe time being quite debarred from playing football on account of being\ncrippled with jiggers\u2014an irritating, infinitesimal insect that bores in\nunder the surface skin of the feet, and if allowed to remain there sets\nup mortification. The fact of their being there did not trouble him in\nthe least, but his inability to kick the football drove him to get them\nextracted. A message one day was brought in that a man wished to see me\non business. Going out on to our verandah I found a powerful, muscular\nfigure dressed in a colobus monkey skin. He told me that his name was\nMbeba, which means \u201ca rat,\u201d and that he had been sent by the pigmy to\ncontract for his jiggers. His fee would be five hundred cowrie shells,\nwhich was a big price, but it would be a long job. I felt it was an offer\nto close on, and did not in the least regret my investment of sevenpence\nhalfpenny when the pigmy proudly emerged from a ten days\u2019 operation with\nhis unshapely little feet considerably battered, but in sound kicking\norder.\n\nEach week it was our custom to give round to our boys fifty or hundred\ncowrie shells for pocket money. These generally went to purchase pencils,\nor exercise books, or were carefully put by till sufficient were\ncollected to buy a sheep or goat. But Blasiyo was never able to save a\nshell, for his great ambition was to ride about on a horse like the king,\nand as this was an impossibility he hired the tallest available man to\nrun him up and down the roads on his shoulder for payment of shells.\n\nOne day a loud altercation was going on in our courtyard, and I was\ncalled out to arbitrate between Blasiyo and his two-legged steed. The\nman\u2019s grievance was that he had agreed to ride the pigmy round our\ncourtyard for five shells, and now he was refused payment. Blasiyo\nlistened until he had finished presenting his case; then, when called on\nto give his defence, declared the man had not fulfilled his contract, for\nhe had cut off all the corners. He was told to pay down three shells, and\nthese he produced from under his tongue! When he had learned to read,\nhe was very anxious to exhibit his wonderful intelligence, and asked\nthat he might have a class in the reading school. Accordingly he was\nenrolled as a teacher. With an air of great importance he used to strut\ninto school and take up his position among his scholars, some twelve to\ntwenty men, whom he had asked to be allowed to teach in preference to\nboys. One day while going the round of the school to take the register I\nfound Blasiyo\u2019s class in rebellion. The reason was that the teacher had\nbrought with him a little cane and whacked them all round because they\ndid not pay him due respect. \u201cWithout respect,\u201d said he, \u201cprogress is\nimpossible.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: A GROUP OF PIGMY WOMEN.]\n\nFor several obvious reasons it will be impossible to send teachers to\nthe pigmies under present circumstances. While they continue constantly\nmoving about they cannot be satisfactorily reached; and no European or\nnative of another tribe could live in the semi-obscurity of the dense\nforest, or exist solely on poisoned meat. The only hope of effectually\nreaching them is to teach and train those who are living outside among\nother people; for there is every reason to hope that some from among them\nmight be found who will in the future be ready to go back to their old\nforest home and carry the torchlight of Truth to their own kith and kin.\n\nMeanwhile it is a cause of great rejoicing that already some of these\nstrange tiny folk have been baptised into Christ Jesus, of whom the whole\nfamily in heaven and earth was named.\n\n\nTHE BAHUKU.\n\nIn a strip of forest lying between the Semliki River and the Congo\nForest, and within four hours of Mboga, lives a savage tribe known as the\nBahuku. Among all the distinct races to be found on the western slopes\nof the Semliki Plain, these people undoubtedly are the most degraded\nand void of intelligence. Like the Ba-amba, many of the men allow their\nheads to remain unshorn: when the hair has reached to the nape of the\nneck they twist it into thin strands with goat\u2019s fat, which is frequently\nmixed with a quantity of red earth. This gives them quite a terrifying\nappearance. They live in circular huts composed of closely-packed poles,\nwith roofs of grass and leaves. They have no means of digging up the\nsoil, but their method of cultivating is to cut down the grass and\nshrubs, to fell the trees, and sow their crops of Indian corn, beans and\nsweet potatoes among the stubble and roots.\n\nA Muhuku may have any number of wives, but is obliged to build a separate\nhouse for each, as the women are very quarrelsome among themselves. If\nany favouritism is shown for one wife the others make no attempt to\nconceal their jealousy, and sometimes poison or spear the unfortunate\nwoman. The custom of procuring a wife is to take her in exchange for\na sister, cousin, or any other available female relation. When these\nfail, goats will be taken as a substitute. By the former method a\nwoman is free to leave her husband and marry another if she wishes,\nbut purchase by goats is binding on her; she has become her husband\u2019s\nproperty absolutely. Should she run away and return to her people they\nare immediately suspected of bribing or stealing her. The injured husband\nthen sounds the warhorn, and a sharp encounter with spears and knives\ntakes place between the two families. When the victor has succeeded in\ndriving off his antagonists he claims the bodies of the slain, which are\ntaken to his home and feasted upon in honour of the occasion.\n\nThe warhorns of the Bahuku are regarded by them as family heirlooms, and\nhave been handed down from their distant ancestors. They are formed out\nof small elephant tusks, which have been scooped out and shaved down to\nwithin two or three inches of the mouthpiece. Strips of elephant hide\nor lizard skin are sometimes neatly fitted round part of the horn and\nsewn with gut. The centre part of the instrument, which has become much\ndiscoloured by time, is decorated with various curious designs. These\nprobably were intended for hieroglyphic writing or distinguishing family\nmarks, but their significance, if ever there really was any, is quite\nunknown to the present generations. The Bahuku are very loth to part with\nthese horns for fear of offending the spirits of their forefathers. A\nfew, however, were willing to risk their displeasures when they saw the\nskinny little goats we sent out as purchase money.\n\n[Illustration: THE BAHUKU: CANNIBAL RACE.]\n\nHuman flesh is regarded as a luxury among them, besides corpse-eating.\nThe upper class buy from the peasants their dead for two to six goats.\nThe bodies that are not sold for food are buried with a very prolonged\nceremony. A deep hole is digged and the corpse is placed in a sitting\nposture with the hands crossed on the chest. It is then covered over with\nearth as far as the neck; the head is left exposed for six days, during\nwhich time the friends come and bestow on it their farewell glances. Then\nthe burial is completed and the grave is carefully swept and guarded day\nand night until the family removes to another place.\n\nTheir religion is a form of fetishism. Tiny devil temples are built\namong the long grass away from the homes of the peoples so that the evil\nspirits may be kept at a safe distance. Only the men and old women are\nallowed to visit these little grass temples to take offerings of food\nor to practice divination. The men take with them a horn in order to\nacquaint their wives with the time of their worship.\n\nSeveral from among these people came and visited us during our stay in\nMboga, and although they were quite friendly, they expressed no wish for\na teacher to be sent to them. Indeed, their minds seemed so unutterably\nvoid that they appeared incapable of receiving any new impression.\n\n\nBABIRA AND BALEGA.\n\nA few years ago, before European rule was established over the country,\nMboga could scarcely have been a desirable quarter in which to find\noneself shut up. The Bahuku, on the west, then practised cannibalism\nwithout any restraint, and captured anyone who ventured near their domain.\n\nThen, while the vindictive little pigmies and half-tamed Bambuba enclosed\nit on the south and west, two powerful and savage tribes joined hands and\nclaimed the district running north, right along to the western shores of\nthe Albert Lake. These Babira and Balega people are very closely allied\nin features and customs, but the former are numerically very inferior.\nThese have a peculiar practice, which I believe to be unique among\nCentral African tribes, that is, the women bore a hole in their top lip\nand gradually increasing this until it is able to enclose a disc of wood\ntwo and even three inches in diameter. A Mubira woman came to call on us\nwhose disc measured two and five-eight inches across. The size of the\nwood inserted proclaims the rank of the person. Peasants are only allowed\nto wear pieces of stick the same dimension as a match. The weight of the\nwood causes the lip to fall down over the mouth, and, in order to eat,\nit is necessary to lift up this shutter with one hand while the other\nconveys the food to the mouth. Frequently the lip breaks under the strain\nput upon it, in which case the disconnected ends are carried back and\ntied to the ear.\n\nWhile the Balega do not adopt this inhuman custom of their neighbours,\nthey have not reached to their degree of civilisation in introducing\nclothing. The Balega women still groan under the weight of pounds of\nthick brass wire wound round their arms and legs. This is supplemented by\na prodigious amount of beads.\n\n[Illustration: A MUBIRA LADY: AN AFTERNOON CALLER.]\n\n[Illustration: A NATIVE OF BALEGA: The first to be baptised of his race.]\n\nUntil brought under Belgian rule these people refused to recognise\nallegiance to any power. Nominally they were under Bunyoro, for the\nKing of that country years ago went across and laid waste the whole\ndistrict plundering their sheep, cattle, and women. This was repeated by\nsuccessive kinds till the people were compelled to yield to the claims\nof the Bunyoro. But their submission was compulsory and not permanent,\nso that when Bunyoro was troubled with civil war and outside foes the\nBalega ceased to be controlled by them. But the Bunyoro are very proud of\na legend that relates how their King Ndohura, who conquered the Balega,\nwhile fighting them broke his stick and from it sprung up the Forest of\nKirare. Returning from the war the same King is said to have slipped on a\nrock, and his footprint is to be seen to this day.\n\nThese people are very clannish and insular. Children remain under their\nmothers\u2019 roof until they marry. If, like the \u201cold woman,\u201d they lived in a\nshoe, the mother would need a fairly roomy one, for often her offspring\nnumber twenty to thirty. As a man possesses many wives he has a lively\ntime trying to keep his children in hand. When the sons marry they bring\ntheir wives and build close to the old homestead, and generally continue\nto recognise the authority of their father, and no other.\n\nThey believe in an evil spirit called Nyakasana, for whom they build a\nlittle grass temple in the court yard of their houses. They always offer\nto him the first-fruits of their potato, Indian corn and millet crops,\nand when they kill a goat for meat or entrap an antelope they take to\ntheir little temple a portion of the flesh, before tasting it themselves.\nThe spirits of the dead have constantly to be propitiated by gifts of\nfood and live stock. These are carefully kept apart, and when any member\nof the family is taken ill, the offerings to the dead are brought in, so\nthat the sick person shall look on them and recover.\n\nDuring our stay at Mboga, the first man from the Balega tribe was\nbaptised, and since then several teachers have gone to them from\nBunyoro and found a great willingness and desire among the people for\ninstruction.\n\nThus gradually the Light is dawning on \u201cDarkest Africa.\u201d\n\n\u201cArise shine, for the light is come and the glory of the Lord is risen\nupon thee. For behold the darkness shall cover the earth and gross\ndarkness the people but the glory of the Lord shall arise upon thee....\nAnd the Gentiles shall come to Thy light, and kings to the brightness of\nThy rising.\u201d Isaiah.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nA Climb to the Snows\n\n\nIt is impossible to live any length of time in close proximity to\nRuwenzori without being overcome with a desire to reach the land of\nglittering ice that resembles an enchanted city with its pinnacles,\nturrets and domes pointing upward to the sun, which with all its\nequatorial strength has ineffectually endeavoured to displace the\nage-long snows and ice. The highest point has, in recent years, been\nestimated to reach an altitude of 20,000 to 22,000 feet. The snows are\nnot often clearly visible, for in the dry season the hot heavy mist that\nenvelops the whole country completely hides the range from view, while\nin the wet season clouds frequently veil the highest peaks. From the\nglaciers rush numerous streams that flow down into the Albert Edward\nLake, and out again by the River Semliki to the Albert Lake and the Nile.\nIn ancient times an Egyptian caravan road extended right down into these\ninterior districts along the route of this great natural watercourse.\nDoubtless the Egyptians, and probably Solomon, drew their supplies of\nivory from the vast herds of elephants that still ramble about round\nRuwenzori with tusks some weighing 150 to 200lbs. each.\n\n[Illustration: STIFF CLIMBING: A CLIMB TO THE SNOWS.]\n\nThe old legend that the sacred river Nile had its source in Heaven may\nhave originated from the reports brought back by traders that one of its\nmost important tributaries flowed down from a mountain that seemed to\nreach into Heaven. The Baganda call the mountain \u201cGambalugula lufumba\nebiri,\u201d which means \u201cthe leaf that cooks the clouds.\u201d This has reference\nto their custom of cooking all their food in banana leaves. Their\nimagination regards the mountains as a big leaf which holds the clouds\nover the boiling springs that bubble up from the base of the mountain,\nthe mists that sweep down the mountain sides is the stream from the\n\u201ccooking pot.\u201d\n\nRuwenzori does not consist of one single snow peak like Kilimanjaro and\nKenia, but vast fields of intercepted snow and ice extend for over twenty\nmiles North and South.\n\nThe late Sir Henry Stanley heard of its existence in 1875, but not until\nhis second visit to its locality in 1887 did he obtain a complete view of\nthe snows.\n\nSince that date several have tried to reach the glaciers, but only three\nexpeditions had been successful up to the time of our ascent. Others\nhad proved unfortunate in the time of year, for it is impossible to\naccomplish the task in the wet season. Mountain sickness, and pneumonia\namong the carriers had compelled others to turn back from the attempt.\nUntil 1904 no one had tried to reach the snows from the Western side of\nthe mountain range. From the east several had unsuccessfully endeavoured\nto discover a route to higher altitudes, but the one along the course of\nthe Mubuku River was the only one that had proved practicable. During\nour visit to Mboga we were very fortunate to obtain continual views of\nthe snow peaks, and we were convinced that an ascent from that side of\nthe mountains would prove more resultful. This has been conclusively\nconfirmed since by a recent explorer, Dr. David, who reached a point\n16,000 feet high; that is, 1,200 feet higher than anyone previously. To\nscale Ruwenzori\u2019s highest point must remain an impossible task. No one\ncould endure the penetrating cold for the period of time required to\nmaster the prolonged and precipitous heights. Besides a complete Alpine\noutfit being required, tent and food would be compulsory, and no native\nwould undertake the transport of these things beyond the lowest glacier\npoint, and even if this difficulty could be overcome, camping space might\nbe sought for in vain. Judging from the angle at which my bed was placed\nat one camp, I can picture an over ambitious adventurer, having pitched\nhis tent within 3,000 feet of the summit, suddenly finding himself and\nhis belongings toboganning down over the glaciers at lightning speed,\nonly stopping to find himself landed in a freezing morass.\n\n[Illustration: A PEEP AT THE SNOWS.]\n\nIn 1903, Rev. A. L. Kitching, Mr. Fisher, and myself started off for a\ntrip to that unfrequented region. Our baggage looked more suitable for\na Polar expedition than a climb on the Equator. Every conceivable fusty\nand moth eaten winter garment was hauled out and packed into a waterproof\nsack; eider-down quilts, India rubber foot warmers, and bales of blankets\nfor ourselves and boys formed part of the caravan. The reports of our\nmountaineering predecessors led us to anticipate an arduous and colossal\ntask, but our ambition was not to attempt more than those who had a\nwider experience in mountain climbing than ourselves, but to stand on\nthat untraversed land of ice where scarcely mortal foot had trod, and\nto inhale its cool life-giving air so that we might be refreshed for a\nreturn to work in the hot tiring lowlands.\n\nJanuary was the time fixed on for the expedition. That is generally\nregarded as one of the most reliably dry months in the year, but the\nmountains manage to upset all one\u2019s calculations, and in Toro fine\nweather is more the exception than the rule. So we found ourselves in\na few very stiff storms before we had even reached the base of the\nmountains. Our porters were aggravatingly discouraging, and on the first\nday, regarding my skirt flapping about after a drenching shower, shook\ntheir heads, and said, \u201cPerhaps the two Bwanas will reach the snows, but\nwho ever heard of a woman doing it.\u201d They did not understand that their\nvery argument was one of my strongest incentives! Four days of strong\nmarching from Kabarole brought us to a village of the Bakonjo called\nBihunga. It was about 6,000ft. high, tucked away in the very heart of\nthe mountains. Frowning peaks and ridge upon ridge of dense foresting\ncompletely shut us in from the outside world. Save for the noise of\nthe River Mubuku, as it rushed madly down and tumbled into the valley\nbeneath, there was no sound to break the deep silence of the mountains.\nAll nature was at perfect peace with itself, and the few clouds that\nseemed wearied in their flight through the hot, dry air rested for a\nwhile on the green slopes as if to enjoy the quiet and beauty of the\nscene. It was to these strongholds that the Batoro fled in past times\nfor security when the raiding King Kabarega of Bunyoro made plundering\nexpeditions into their country. Although they found safety and shelter\nin the thickly-wooded crevices and creeks, the refugees searched in vain\nfor food, and while some were able to drag through the time of their\ntemporary captivity by subsisting on the roots and leaves of wild plants,\nhundreds are said to have died from hunger and exposure.\n\nThe so-called village at which we halted was a collection of three tiny\ncircular huts, built of poles packed as closely together as possible.\nRound and outside these was tied a thick padding of dried banana bark,\nleaves, and saplings, as protection from the gales and storms that blew\ndown from the snows and whistled round these little dwellings.\n\n[Illustration: SNOW PEAKS.]\n\nA grandsire and his dame, two sons, one daughter-in-law, and an infant\ncomposed the entire population. The old man, in a very contented state\nof mind, sat in the doorway of his hut smoking a pipe over a foot\nin length. He gave us a most reassuring smile of welcome. The two\nfemales, heavily decked round the knees and arms with scores of plaited\nand greased bracelets, immediately made off with themselves into the\nthick vegetation, and only came out of their hiding by a great deal\nof persuasion. We explained to the people the object we had in view,\nand how we wanted to leave our Batoro porters with them to await our\nreturn, while we took on men from among them who were acquainted with the\nmountains and inured to the cold. The two young men at once offered their\nservices, and promised instantly to get together as many other porters\nas required. We wondered how they could do this, as there was no sign of\na habitation, excepting two lonely huts on a far distant height. But,\nafter making a long, far-reaching sound with their lips, there suddenly\nappeared, as if by magic, quite a number of figures emerging from far and\nnear. The Bakonjo, in the old times of rapine and oppression, had chosen\nout the most secluded spot where they might safely build their homes, and\nthey still adopt this practice, from custom\u2014no longer from necessity.\nAmong the dense forest growth it is quite impossible to detect their\nhuts, and as only a very small minority of the Bakonjo cultivate the\nsoil, there is nothing around to indicate human existence.\n\nAs is the case among most of these tribes, the women do all the digging\nand sowing, but they are very few in number as compared with the men, and\nin consequence are regarded as valuable property, and not to be worked\nto excess. Being naturally more prone to indolence than industry, the\nfurnishing of the daily board depends almost solely on what the husbands\ncan bring in from the hunt and exchange, but they generally keep in\nstore a stock of arum roots (the women\u2019s cultivation) on which they can\nfall back when fortune fails the huntsmen. The men are a striking race,\ntheir arduous searching after rats and conies (hyrax) often leads them\nup to the regions of ice; this constant climbing and exposure to the\ncold have developed their muscles in a remarkable manner, and with the\nsurefootedness of a mule and lightness of a gazelle they spring up the\nsteepest bank and rock, experiencing no fatigue.\n\nBesides being their chief item of diet, the coney supplies them with\npractically their sole clothing. Six or eight of the little skins are\nsewn together, and worn over the shoulders, secured by a thin piece of\nhide round the neck.\n\nAlthough the conies have enough sense of self-preservation to burrow\namong the rocks for shelter, they have not sufficient instinct to escape\ntheir capturers when once they have tracked them down. The men sit\npatiently for hours outside the conies\u2019 entrance door, and when at last\nthe little creatures come out in single file to search for a meal, a\nstick suddenly descends on one head after another; sometimes fourteen to\nfifteen in one family are killed off in this way.\n\nTwenty men were chosen out, from those that offered, to act as carriers,\ntwo more were appointed guides, and two of special strength were told\noff to help me over the exceptionally rough bits of climbing. While the\nnecessary agreements were being gone through, the sky became suddenly\novercast with dense, threatening clouds, and a loud clap of thunder,\nthat reverberated all round us again and again, scattered us in every\ndirection with great speed to our several homes. From the tiny window of\nour bedraggled tent we peeped out at the storm, as the forked lightning\nstruck one peak after another almost simultaneously, and the thunder\nconcussions made the very mountains tremble.\n\n[Illustration: SNOW PEAKS.]\n\nAn Academy picture, of many years back, illustrating Dante\u2019s Inferno,\nseemed to have assumed living form here. It was almost impossible to\nbelieve that such a transformation could have taken place in so short a\ntime, for in comparatively few minutes day was plunged into night, calm\ninto torrential storms, and quietude into a fierce battle of the elements.\n\nWhen we at last ventured to draw back the canvas doorway the rain had\nceased, and mud, mud, mud lay everywhere. The storm had left behind it\na cold, raw, dismal evening. And there drawn up in single file before\nthe tent were our twenty porters and guides, who, in order to appear\nmore pathetic, had come without their fur shoulder garments. One of the\nguides stepped forward as spokesman and explained that they wanted to be\npaid in advance. They absolutely refused shells and rupees, and would\nonly accept calico, which, they said, would protect them from the cold\non the journey to the snows. Judging from the quantity of clothes we\nhad heaped already on ourselves to keep off the penetrating damp wind,\ntheir demand threatened to be a real difficulty, as we had only equipped\nourselves with a limited supply of calico. They were then asked what\nlength of material each required as wages, and in a half timid voice, as\nif afraid of uttering such an extortion, the answer came \u201cthree hands\napiece\u201d (one and a half yards). Our calico managed to run to that, and\nthereupon each man received his advance payment. With a broad grin of\nsatisfaction and pride they struggled to tuck as much of themselves as\npossible inside their fifty-four inches of material. The result was quite\nludicrous, but they appeared perfectly delighted. Evidently their plea\nhad only been a ruse to insure their wages, for none of the calico was\nseen on the journey. The only personal impedimenta with which most of\nthem travelled were a few strands of smouldering grass encased in a bark\nsheath. This was brought out immediately we struck camp, and they had\nferretted out a shelter for themselves under a rock or trees. A fire was\nquickly kindled, and round this they all squatted and roasted the conies\nthey had entrapped during the day\u2019s climb. At night they did not attempt\nto erect a hut or covering, but maintained this same cramped position\nround the fire; they interlaced arms, and each one slept with his head\nresting on the next man\u2019s shoulder. On one occasion the rain poured down\nupon them all night long, and although their little shoulder coney-skins\nwere hopelessly inadequate to insure them against a thorough soaking,\nthey turned up in the morning in the most cheerful spirits, absolutely\nunaffected by their uncongenial surroundings.\n\nIn preparing for the actual ascent to the snows from Bihunga we were\nobliged to reduce our outfit to mere essentials. A large caravan would\nhave experienced considerable difficulty in the matter of food; and each\nman was only able to carry a load of twenty to twenty-five pounds, which\nwas fastened to a strong sling of fibre and slipped round the forehead.\nThis method of carrying is adopted by the Bakonjo tribe, and leaves\nthe arms perfectly free for climbing up on fours, which is so often\nnecessary. I was the only member of the party privileged with a bed; the\ntwo men had to content themselves with waterproof sacks and blankets. Our\nboys judged spoons, forks, and knives as non-essentials and reduced us\nto two forks and one pen-knife, so for some days we had to return to the\nmost primitive manners at meal-times. Our first day\u2019s real climbing began\nin a kind of retrograde direction, for we had to slide down a hopelessly\ngreasy track for some two hundred yards. My two supporters evidently\nanticipated a lively time; they were required to render aid at once; the\nfact was, my feet refused to stick, and in struggling to keep me back\nwith yards of calico brought round under my arms, I nearly succeeded in\ndragging them down head-first. They were urged to manage better than\nthat, and they promised to improve, but explained how they had had no\npractice at that kind of travelling, and were a little unprepared for it.\nI again tried the plan of a calico body sling when a very steep bracken\nascent had to be scaled, and the sun was at its height. The men went in\nfront, each pulling most vigorously at the calico end which he held, but\nthey somehow always managed to jerk in the wrong place. Just as I had\nbreathlessly succeeded in securing a foothold a big pull from the front\nalmost robbed me of my last gasp. So I dispensed with such questionable\naid and found all the help I wanted in a long bamboo which our guide\npresented to me as a kind of charm, for it had taken him up to the\nglacier when he escorted Sir Harry Johnston\u2019s expedition. At an altitude\nof seven thousand feet we reached the point where tropical vegetation\nassumes its most exquisite form. The river Mubuku had to be crossed and\nrecrossed six times in the one march, and all along its river bed was\nthe richest display of varied forms of vegetable life. Several species\nof palm trees, a few wayward bamboos, tree-ferns, a tree resembling the\nEnglish yew, and the bright red-flowering Ekirikiti tree. The forests\npassed through frequently recalled some of the most charming parts of\nDevonshire; the ground was carpeted with ferns and moss interspersed with\nforget-me-nots and orchids.\n\n[Illustration: CROSSING THE MULUKU RIVER.]\n\nAt Bihunga we left behind all human habitation. Our first halt after\nleaving it was under a rock at a height of eight thousand feet. From\nthe almost intolerable silence it seemed as if we had also got beyond\nall animal life. We listened in vain for the insect\u2019s hum, the bird\u2019s\nchirrupping, or the squabbling of the monkeys. However, similar welcome\nsounds had not entirely ceased, for very occasionally a night bird\nhooted, a rat squeaked, or a solitary fly cheered us with its living\npresence.\n\nOur camping space was decidedly cramped, and the tent felt very insecure,\nfor it was impossible to drive poles or pegs into the rocks; the canvas\nmerely had to be balanced by tying the ropes to large stones. Water was\nalso very scarce, and, in spite of a consuming thirst after our hot\nclimb, we were obliged to content ourselves with two cups of tea and half\nthat amount for a wash down.\n\nThe region of Bamboo Forests was next reached, and it was disappointing\nto find that what looked so attractive from a distance beneath when\nseen from within was nothing but a monotonous stretch of stiff brown\nsticks surmounted by masses of green grass. The bamboos had completely\nmonopolised the soil to the exclusion of almost every other plant. For\nhours we were pushing our way through these obstinate poles that would\nnot bend or budge an inch to let us through. Men went before to slash\nthem down, and as we stumbled over the broken stems my poor skirt was\nliterally torn into shreds, even though it had been shortened eight\ninches the previous day. Emerging from bamboo-land we crossed a stretch\nof marsh and found ourselves surrounded by frowning bare rock peaks which\nrose almost perpendicularly from where we stood. Pointing up to a spot\nabout one thousand feet above us, our guide indicated the only possible\nhalting place. Although so near, it took us over two hours to reach; with\nthe utmost caution we had to drag our bodies up the sheer face of the\nrocks. At one place we had recourse to a rough native ladder formed of\ntwo long bamboo poles with rungs of the same tied with grass. This was\nplaced against an absolutely smooth-faced stretch of rock, where for a\nspace of ten to fifteen feet no hold could be obtained. To add to the\ndanger, strong mountain streams were pouring down over the rocks, not\nonly soaking us through, but making our grip less secure. Certainly I had\nnever before been in such a critical position; it was quite impossible\nto get a real firm footing, and one slip might have resulted in dragging\nothers down into the seething waters and rocks that lay beneath.\n\n[Illustration: KICUCEI CAMP.]\n\nOn reaching the top, vegetation assumed an entirely new form. The only\ntrees were gigantic heaths, but it was almost impossible to distinguish\nthem, for the stems were covered with a thick moss, which in some places\nwas 12 inches deep. In colouring it varied from a dark brown to a light\ngolden or deep red. The trees were almost entirely denuded of leaf, and\nfestoons of whitish lichen hung from branch to branch. The ground was\nvery marshy, for the hills that enclosed us emptied down into it numerous\nsmall torrents. About fifteen square yards of dry land was found on which\nto erect our tent and hang up the clothes to dry. Our stout marching\nboots had already succumbed to the rough usage, and we each took a\nstrong needle and thread to see who could turn out the neatest job. In\nthe evening the rain poured down upon us in a deluge, and continued all\nnight till it even penetrated the double roof of our canvas waterproof\ntent; besides this, as we were now at an altitude of 10,000ft., the cold\nwas indescribable. Each breath we took seemed to cut at the chest like\na knife, and, in spite of blankets and an eider-down, it was impossible\nto sleep with the damp piercing cold. All the following day the rain\ncontinued and kept us prisoners at this indescribably cheerless spot. I\nhad time to overhaul the shattered skirt; it looked a hopeless task, for\nit really would not bear shortening again. The advice was then given me\nto cut it up and put it into bands under the knees, which I acted upon\non hearing the toughest bit of climbing was yet to come. When we were\nat last able to push on, and the garment was worn with puttees and a\nfootball jersey, I felt like an evoluted man.\n\nFor three hours from Kicucu camp we did not once touch the ground; during\nthe whole of that time we were slowly climbing with hands and feet over\nfallen heather that for scores of years must have lain in that position,\nonly becoming more seasoned with time. The thick moss that still clung\non to the slender bark was very deceptive, and, when mistaken for firm\nsoil, broke away from the tree and one suddenly found oneself slipping\ndown, down between branches and barks; fortunately there was a depth of\nfallen forest underneath, and this saved me from disappearing beyond the\narmpits. These heaths grow on the rocks in a very thin surface soil which\nis not able to support them when they reach great heights, consequently\nthe tree falls, and in this way the irregular jagged rocks have been\nbridged and joined up by the continually increasing amount of timber\nthrown across.\n\n[Illustration: MULUKU GLACIER.]\n\nHaving once disentangled ourselves from this tumbled-down forest, a\nweird scene was opened out before us. Almost surrounded by a lofty ridge\nof rocks was a wide river basin fed by the melting snow from above.\nWith the exception of one waterfall which poured down from a height of\nabout 200 feet, the water did not descend in streams, but fell slowly in\nsheets from the surrounding rocks. The few trees visible were entirely\nenveloped in the white lichen, and the ground was covered with thick drab\nmoss, dwarf cactus plants, and a tall green poker called by botanists\nlobelia, but resembling in shape Cleopatra\u2019s needle. The effect was\nthat of a world tottering in its old age on the verge of death\u2014it was\neasier to imagine it another planet, for is it possible to recognise\nEarth without voice, without colouring, and almost without life. We\nplunged through this morass and found the moss saturated like a sponge\nwith freezing water. The effect was chilling in the extreme, and before\nwe had crossed it half way my limbs felt quite numbed with the cold; I\nscarcely knew how I dragged myself up into our last camp. The roof only\nof our tent was somehow fixed up under a rock, over the entrance of which\nwater continuously trickled. But these little discomforts were quite\nforgotten when towards sunset the clouds rolled away and the land of snow\nand ice was revealed crowning near ridges and peaks with its dazzling\nwhiteness, while in the hollows and clefts all round lay patches of\nglistening ice. Before sunrise next morning we were all astir, impatient\nto reach the goal of our expectations. The air was clear and crisp,\npatches of freshly fallen snow lay around us on all sides, icicles hung\nfrom the rocks, and little frozen puddles glistened like glass. The wet\npenetrating cold of the two previous days was now exchanged for the dry\nfrosty breezes that nipped toes, finger-tips, nose, and ears. Although\nthe thermometer had fallen to freezing point, no numbing sensation was\nexperienced; but as the blood tingled through the veins it seemed to\nimpart a feeling of rejuvenation, and an uncontrollable exhilaration laid\nhold of the spirits. In the valley of the Muluku glacier vegetation had\nonce more assumed its healthy green colouring; a little silver-leafed\nbuttercup even ventured to peep out at us, and a tiny white flower,\nalmost identical with the Swiss edelweiss, concealed itself among the\nrocks. This beautiful little fertile spot seemed a special pet of the\nsnow mountains, for they clasped it in their great white arms as if\ndesiring that its only life should impart some degree of warmth to their\nimplacable nature.\n\nRuwenzori certainly has not left one point of its snows unfortified\nagainst intruders. Having taken possession of the most unconscionable\nheights, all sorts of subtle man-traps have been laid up the mountain\u2019s\nsides, and even if an attempt is made to merely stand on the threshold\nof its domain an almost impassible rock barrier guards the portal, just\nas the adventurer imagines all difficulties have been passed. But that\nrealm of ice allures one on to dare much, and so while two ropes were\nthrown down from above the forbidding rocks, one was hastily tied round\nthe body and with the other we slowly climbed up hand over hand. Twice\nwe attempted this performance, and twice we succeeded in mastering the\nsituation, and then\u2014we stood face to face with one of Ruwenzori\u2019s\nglaciers. It was in the shape of a huge, open mouth, and as it slowly\npushed its way down into the valley, the tongue collected the few\nfragments rubbed off the rocks and taken up from the soil, but the cave\nitself was one spotless mass of dazzling white.\n\nWe had decided to dismiss any idea of prolonging our stay at this\naltitude, realizing the terrible suffering that this involved among the\nporters in previous expeditions, so, instead of using any of the precious\ntime in attempting to reach a higher point, which seemed futile without\nAlpine implements, we explored the Muluku glacier cave, from which flows\nthat remarkable river that carries its cool, life-giving stream into the\nscorching plain till it loses itself in the Albert Edward Lake.\n\nOnly one of our personal boys had succeeded in facing out the\ndifficulties of the climb. While standing on the ice with us, he took out\nfrom his pocket a little tin pot, which he filled with ice. He explained\nit was a present for his wife. Afterwards, when we had descended to camp,\nhe took it out to show the other boys, and, although disgusted beyond\nmeasure at the trick nature had played him, he consoled himself by taking\nthe water to his wife to explain to her how it was once a stone.\n\nScrambling up on to the glacier, we looked beyond over miles and miles of\nice that for hundreds of years God\u2014the Creator\u2014alone had been beholding.\nAlthough we were standing nearly 14,000ft. above sea-level, the highest\npeak, that rose as a white dome above its companions, appeared miles\nabove us. It was difficult to judge of its approximate height, as so\nmany other points intervened, but it could not have been much less than\n20,000ft.\n\n[Illustration: BACK FROM THE SNOWS: BAKONJO PORTERS.]\n\nHaving climbed above cloud-land, there was nothing to break the reflex in\nthe ice of the deep sapphire sky, and as the sun poured down its white\nheat, the whole world around glittered and sparkled with iridescent hues.\n\n    \u201cA step ... opened to my view,\n    Glory beyond all glory ever seen\n    By waking sense or by the dreaming soul!\n    The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,\n    Was of a mighty city\u2014boldly say\n    A wilderness of building, sinking far\n    And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth\n    Far sinking into splendour\u2014without end!\n    Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,\n    With alabaster domes and silver spires\n    And blazing terrace upon terrace high\n    Uplifted ... Forms uncouth of mightiest power\n    For admiration and mysterious awe.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nMissionary Work\n\n\nMissionary enterprise in Uganda has been justly described as one of\nthe greatest modern triumphs of Christianity. Indeed, the record of\nits workings read like pages from the annals of the infant Church in\nApostolic days. But, whereas in those times Christianity had to face the\nmost exclusive and bigoted form of belief, Judaism, the highly developed\nintellectual power of Grecian learning, and the shameless profligacy of\ncivilized Rome, in Uganda it has had no force to contend against save\nbarbaric ignorance that could not stand before the advent of Truth and\nRighteousness. After the missionaries had been working some years in the\ncountry it occurred to them that the most effectual way of reaching the\npeople was to try and meet their insatiable demand for instruction by\ninstituting throughout the country little synagogues or reading schools,\nwhere the people could come together daily and be taught to read by\none who had received some training. A little graduated reading sheet,\nconsisting of the alphabet, syllables, words, the Lord\u2019s Prayer, and a\nselection of texts, was circulated by the thousand at a charge of ten\ncowrie shells each. By these means within a comparatively short time the\nland had been sown with portions of Holy Scripture, which were being\neagerly read by the people, who possessed no other books.\n\nCertainly the success of Christianity in Uganda has been due to the\nwidespread distribution of the Bible among the people and the remarkable\ndesire and ability on the part of the Baganda to impart whatever\nknowledge they have been able to assimilate. It has been rightly said\nthat every country must be evangelized by its own people. Certainly this\nhas been proved to be so in Uganda. A European pioneer missionary is\nobliged to travel with a certain number of things, and, however meagre\nthey may appear in his eyes, yet to these poor Africans they represent\ngreat wealth and create a deal of suspicion. They will gather round him\nhalf timidly and full of curiosity, and while he is endeavouring to\ndeliver his message to them, their eyes are travelling from his collar\nstud to his boots, then from his bath to the frying-pan, and all the time\nthey are thinking within themselves, \u201cWonderful, wonderful; the white\nman is beyond our understanding quite!\u201d When they, at last, attempt to\nlisten and find that he is speaking to them in their own tongue, and not\nin English, in spite of the slight foreign accent, they are absolutely\nincredulous, for they cannot believe that they and the European can have\nanything in common. The European is white, he has wisdom\u2014great wisdom\u2014he\nis rich, but the African is black and a fool, and a beggar; the white\nman worships one great, wonderful Spirit, and the black man worships a\nspirit\u2014only it is an evil one. On the other hand, if one of the native\nconverts goes out on pioneer work, he ties all his possessions in a\nsleeping mat, and off he starts with the little bundle on his head.\nWhen he reaches his destination, he creates no suspicion or fear, as he\nunrolls his mat, shakes out his bark-cloth covering, and takes a drink\nof water from his gourd; they see he possesses nothing beyond what they\nthemselves own. But as he draws out of a little cotton bag a Book, they\nall gather round to inspect the novelty, and he tells them that the Book\nis a written voice, and the letters stand for the words uttered; he has\nlearned to read the signs, and he has come to teach them to do so, for\nit is God\u2019s voice that has spoken to them. Immediately their excitement\nis aroused, and the teacher from that time has found his pupils. As there\nis no house large enough to hold them all, they set to work to build a\nreading school, and, as many come from a distance and are anxious not\nto arrive late for the day\u2019s lessons, a big drum is hung outside the\nbuilding and beaten every morning at 7.0 and 1.0 to warn everybody that\nin one hour reading will commence. After a few months, when the European\nvisits the station on an itinerating tour, he finds a demonstrative\nwelcome awaiting him. Food is brought and banana juice to show their\ngratitude for the teacher having been sent. Then their books are produced\nin order that the European may hear the great wisdom they have learned,\nand others come with questions about words they have read in their\nGospels and do not understand. Uganda to-day is calling out for European\nmissionaries more than it ever was, not to evangelise the heathen but to\norganise, train and instruct the thousands of Christian men and women,\nthat they may be capable of taking their place among the civilised\nnations of the world, and become a praise and a glory in their land.\n\nIt was through two young Baganda teachers that Christianity was first\ncarried into Toro in the year 1895. At that time the country was in a\nvery unsettled state. The King, Kasagama, had not long been established\non the throne, and his chiefs were not too eager to own allegiance to\nhim. Soon after the arrival of these two evangelists, Kasagama was\nfalsely accused before the British Officer in charge of the Government\nStation there, and was thrown into the chain gang. On his release he was\nadvised to go into Mengo to the Government headquarters and have his case\ngone into. His stay there ran into some months. During that time he was\ndeeply impressed by the change that Christianity had effected in Uganda,\nand attended the Church classes daily that he might receive instruction.\nWhen Her Majesty\u2019s Commissioner had heard the charges and exonerated\nKasagama he was told to return to his Kingdom with full power ratified by\nthe British Government. Before leaving Uganda he begged Bishop Tucker to\nbe allowed to publicly confess his faith in Christ by Holy Baptism, and\nasked that a European missionary might be sent to Toro to help him and\nhis people to increase in the wisdom of God. Meanwhile there was great\nexcitement in Toro when the people heard that their king, after such a\nlong absence, was coming back to them, and they collected together in\nhundreds at the capital to welcome him. As he mounted the hill, leading\nto his house, the people thronged him, dancing and screaming with joy and\npoured into his courtyards. Then, standing up and ordering them to remain\nquiet, he delivered his speech to them. He told of all the wonderful\nthings he had seen in Mengo, of his own confession of Christianity in\nthe Cathedral, and concluded by saying that he wished his country to go\nforward in strength and wisdom, and this could only be obtained from\nGod, so he called on his people to believe in his God, to stand by him\nfaithfully in the united desire for the good of their country.\n\nFrom that day the teachers had as much as they could do to instruct all\nthose who came forward to be taught; and when Bishop Tucker arrived there\nthe following year with Mr. Fisher, who was to establish a permanent\nstation, he found fifteen men and women ready for baptism.\n\nExcepting in the case of old people, everyone in Uganda desirous of being\nbaptised must first learn to read. When they have passed the standard\nrequired of them and are ready to enter a baptismal class, they are\nobliged to bring with them two witnesses or sponsors who can vouch for\nthe sincerity of their belief by the outward conformity of their lives\nto the teaching of Christianity. Then, for from three to six months\ninstruction is given them for two hours four days a week. At the end\nof this course of teaching each candidate is carefully examined, and\nshould the result be satisfactory the name is read out twice in Church\nand anyone is asked to bring forward a reason, if such there be, for\nkeeping back the candidate from baptism. Thus every care is taken to test\nconverts thoroughly before admitting them into this sacred rite.\n\nToro very soon sought to emulate the church in Uganda in recognising its\nresponsibility to those living in darkness around, and one year after the\nfounding of the work in the capital, young men came forward and offered\nthemselves to be trained as teachers to the distant villages. Apart from\nan honest desire to enlighten those who have not received the Truth as\nit is in Christ Jesus, there is little to tempt men to devote themselves\nto this service\u2014the only payment they receive is sufficient unbleached\ncalico with which to clothe themselves. The people in the villages who\nhave sent in the pressing request for a teacher are expected to build\ntheir own \u201csynagogue,\u201d as well as house, and feed the teacher sent to\nthem. In this way the whole native church organisation throughout the\nProtectorate is self-supporting. In Toro alone, seven years after the\nintroduction of Christianity, there were no less than eighty-five mission\nstations established throughout the Kingdom, with a staff of one ordained\nMuganda deacon and one hundred and five paid men and women teachers, all\nsupported entirely by the young Christian Church. Besides these there was\na strong band of honorary workers who taught in the capital on weekdays\nor went out to the near villages on Sundays.\n\nOnce a year there is a \u201creview of the troops,\u201d when all the\nteachers\u2014regulars, reservists, and volunteers\u2014come into the capital for\nre-equipment and reappointment.\n\nOne of these events took place after we had been in the country only a\nfew months, when we were decidedly new to the way things were managed\nout here, and still retained a fair amount of the provincialism of home\ntraining; so when a teachers\u2019 conference was announced we conjured up in\nour minds a kind of forthcoming Mildmay or Keswick Convention on a small\nscale, but the arrangements took a slightly different form. The first day\nopened with a big feast to all the workers. The dispensary was converted\nfor the day into the banquetting hall; the entrance was draped in gaudy\nnative cloths, and the floors of the two rooms were carpeted with banana\nleaves. The men were allocated to one room and the women to the other.\nLong before the hour of the feast the guests had arrived and packed\nthemselves as closely together as was possible in circles of seven or\neight, the King and his chiefs forming one of the groups. An ox had been\nkilled for the feast; it was boiled in banana leaves and served up with\nquantities of unsweetened, cooked bananas. Prodigious piles were placed\nin the centre of each circle of guests, and then business began! Off came\ntheir top draperies or coats, and with bare arms all eagerly outstretched\ntowards the food they dived into their food with astonishing rapidity\nand energy. The banana mash was rolled round the fingers into balls and\nstuffed down their throats without any regard being given to mastication.\nThe King and chiefs seemed to momentarily forget their dignity, and ate\ntill the perspiration rolled down their faces. Tea was served round in\nkettles; every available cup, mug, basin and jug on the station had been\ncollected together for the use of the guests\u2014and the two-quarts jugs were\nfar more popular than afternoon tea cups.\n\nWith no small compunction I submitted myself to the native custom and\njoined in the feast. After a series of hand ablutions I sat on the floor\nnext to the King\u2019s mother, who picked some of the choicest bits of meat\noff a bone and set them before me. It was such an effort for 3.0 p.m. in\nthe tropics, and visions of Mildmay\u2019s shilling tea tent, with its ices\nand strawberries, made at least the first stage of the Conference appear\nvery different.\n\nThe King\u2019s band, with its medley of instruments, round drums, cylindrical\ndrums, squat drums, horns, and reed pipes decorated with monkey tails,\nperformed boisterous symphonies outside. But when, after the feast, the\npeople were for the first time introduced to the phonograph, the Toro\nband stood still in astonishment, and as an English orchestral band\nroared out \u201cSoldiers of the Queen\u201d it felt quite eclipsed and could only\nexclaim \u201cEkyamahano, ekyamahano\u201d (marvellous, truly marvellous).\n\nThe following day the real Convention started, and was continued\nover three days. The mornings were entirely given over to devotional\nmeetings, and in the afternoons the workers were asked to bring forward\ndifficulties met with in their work, and discussions were invited as\nto what more effectual measures could be employed in organisation and\nin strengthening of the various mission stations. Throughout all the\nmeetings a deep and earnest interest was evinced by the teachers. It was\nmost encouraging to watch the enthusiasm gradually growing and to hear\nthe young teachers talk of their work and their peculiar difficulties\nrelating to the subject treated.\n\nA specially impressive service was held when all the workers gathered\nin from near and far distant heathen districts met together at Holy\nCommunion.\n\nBefore returning to their spheres of service a large missionary meeting\nwas held in the church, at which most stirring accounts were given of\nthe victories against the powers of darkness. At the close, a collection\nwas taken up. For this a large packing case was placed in the centre of\nthe chancel to receive the larger contributions and a row of baskets for\nthe smaller offerings. Then the people came up in single file to place\nin their gifts; one brought a tusk of ivory, another a huge bundle of\nbananas, others beans, potatoes, and sugar cane, the Queen forty yards of\nfine white linen, others chickens, and finally a goat was brought up and\ntied to the pillar. One little boy, carried away by the impulse of the\nmoment, put his little fez cap into the basket, and as this was only a\nloan it had to be redeemed afterwards.\n\nThe sight was very remarkable. It was as if one had been taken back to\nthe Court of the Tabernacle at the Feast of First fruits. The similarity\nof these people\u2019s lives with those of Old and New Testament history is\nso strong that it is difficult to convey to the native mind the idea of\ndistance in time, and often one is asked if Joseph, the son of Jacob, was\nthe husband of the Virgin Mary, or if Paul before his conversion was the\nfirst King of Israel.\n\nThe Toro Church has now reached its sifting time. The excitement and\nrash enthusiasm of infancy have matured into the more evenly balanced\njudgment of manhood. Its disciples are learning to weigh the demands of\nits tenets, its refusal to compromise with sin and with almost everything\nthat has constituted their existence for centuries past, and its call\nfor constant activity of heart and hand as opposed to the intolerable\nindolence of their nature. All these things must constantly be borne in\nmind by the missionary if he is not to be unnecessarily depressed by\noccasional failure on the part of the converts. One must not look for\nimpossibilities, and the growth of past centuries cannot be destroyed in\na day. I am not sure but that too much is expected of the young teachers.\nFor instance one goes out to the villages when only quite a youth with a\nhereditary taint, many generations old, of the worst forms of heathenism\nas against two or three years of religious instruction. He is the only\nChristian in the village, and, indeed, for miles round; and there he is\nsurrounded by the old heathen practices and constantly tempted to return\nto habits of the past, while he has not the same normal amount of moral\nand intellectual strength which nerves an English lad to fight against\nthese external influences and internal tendencies. And yet only about\ntwenty per cent. of them really fail.\n\nKing Daudi Kasagama once said that the white man could never understand\nhow fierce was the black man\u2019s conflict with himself at times. The one\nhas generations of civilization and Christianity as a rear-guard, and the\nother, centuries of corruption and self-indulgence. Without trust in a\nDivine keeping power, said he, one would inevitably fall. Ten years have\nnow passed by since the Baganda teachers left for heathen Toro, and in\nthat time the character of almost the entire country has been practically\ntransformed. British jurisdiction has established peace throughout the\nKingdom, and now that an end has been put to tribal and civil warfare,\nthere is nothing to distract the mind of the people from settling down\nand learning to improve their land.\n\nIn the districts that have come under the influence of Christianity,\nheathenism has been abolished, if not absolutely at least in the outward\nform of practice. Over three thousand converts have been baptized, and\nalthough this only represents a very small proportion of the inhabitants,\nit includes mainly the more influential and leading body of men.\n\nThe desire of the Batoro for teaching and their love of reading promise\nmuch for the future of the country if this can be satisfactorily coped\nwith immediately and not starved by inability on the part of the\nmissionaries to meet the need. It certainly cannot be said of Uganda\nand Toro \u201cof the making of books there is no end.\u201d The Baganda are, I\nbelieve, limited to ten books, namely:\u2014\n\n    Holy Bible.\n    Prayer Book.\n    Hymn Book.\n    Oxford Bible Helps.\n    \u201cSearch and Find.\u201d\n    Geography Book.\n    \u201cPilgrim\u2019s Progress.\u201d\n    \u201cKings of Uganda.\u201d\n    English Primer.\n    Commentaries on three Gospels.\n\nThose of the Batoro who do not understand Luganda and so are confined\nto books written in their own language, only possess the New Testament,\nPrayer Book, with Psalms and Hymn Book. Through the generous aid of the\nBritish and Foreign Bible Society, the Religious Tract Society, and the\nS.P.C.K., which have provided the country with almost the whole of its\nliterature, these books have been supplied at a cost price, much under\ntheir cost of production and carriage, so as to bring them within the\npossible reach of the people, who, as a whole, are exceedingly poor.\n\nBut even so, it is generally necessary, in the villages especially, for\nthe people to make real efforts to supply themselves with books they\nrequire. A curious scene was enacted in the courtyard of our house when\nthe teachers came in from their stations on the first Monday in every\nmonth to execute the orders for books or stationery entrusted to them\nby their people. Our yard was temporarily converted into a live-stock\nmarket, for the purchases were rarely made with cash. The most popular\ncurrency was cowrie shells, which were tied up in bundles by means of\ndried banana bark, but when these were beyond the means of the would-be\npurchaser, he would send in by his teacher a goat, or chickens, or eggs.\nA curious shaped till was needed by the salesman! One of his orders would\nbe for \u201cOne chicken, Matthew,\u201d which being interpreted was \u201cOne Gospel of\nSt. Matthew, price one chicken.\u201d\n\nAnother man, after purchasing a hymn book for six eggs, would ask if he\nhad enough eggs over to buy Bunyan. It frequently happened that a lad\nhad been carefully collecting the eggs from his one hen for weeks, but\nas the hen had not been very obliging by the time the right number was\nreached, the salesman was distinctly out of profit through his customer.\n\nOthers, who possessed nothing saleable, came in from distances of ten to\nfifteen miles and asked to be hired for work during the day, in the late\nafternoon they would set off on their journey home the proud owners of\nthe little hymn book or reading sheet which had been thoroughly earned.\n\nAt the close of one of the terms of the teachers\u2019 preparation class,\nprizes were to be given for the best answers at their examination, and\nthe first prize was to be the option of four yards of calico or a Bible.\nThe one who on this particular occasion stood out preeminently first\nwas a peasant youth of about eighteen years of age with exceptionally\nwell-formed and forceful features. His dress consisted of a coarse piece\nof the bark-cloth knotted on the shoulder: having come from a distant\ndistrict he had never known the luxury of the calico garments worn by the\nmore fortunate town folk. As he came forward to receive his prize, the\nchoice between the calico and the Bible was given him. For a while he\nstood handling the material, then looked down at his own shabby garment;\nbut it was only a momentary hesitation\u2014laying aside the calico, he took\nup the Bible and clasping it with both hands, said \u201cMy master, the Bible\nhas got the better of the cloth.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nMedical Work\n\n\nRealising that the acquisition of the language would be slow work, with\nno books to study, and only five hours teaching a week, I had decided on\narriving in Toro to plunge into work right away. It was not a case of\ngoing out in search of work, for outside one\u2019s very door was the mute\ncall for help. When the tidings of our arrival had filtered through to\nthe villages, sick folk came from every direction to see if the white\nwomen had brought medicine. In our courtyard each morning there was quite\na large company of maimed, halt and blind, who had hobbled along, or been\nbrought in, some from very long distances, by their friends. The very\nprevalent forms of skin diseases, ulcers, and the hacking cough required\nno language even for diagnosis by an amateur dispenser; other patients,\nby eloquent grunts and gesticulations, managed to convey some idea of\ntheir complaints; and the remaining class, whose language and sickness\nwere conundrums to the European \u201cquack,\u201d received a mild dose of nauseous\nphysic; certainly it did them no harm, and in some cases their faith in\nthat dose of \u201cwhite man\u2019s medicine\u201d worked the cure.\n\nAt first I used to receive the sick folk on our verandah, but they became\ntoo numerous, so a removal was effected. The first house of the European\nmissionary in Toro was still standing, but was quite uninhabitable, as\nit had been made of reeds which rot very quickly. It stood in a very\nforest of weeds. The long elephant grass barred all the windows and\ndoors against would-be intruders, snakes suspiciously lay hidden among\nthe thick tangled undergrowth, and a few half-choked flowers struggled\nto exist as a witness to a past cared-for garden and in protest against\ntheir present usurpers.\n\nA few days of hard work with hoe and shovel cleared a breathing space all\nround the house, the ceilings and walls were swept down and repaired,\nnew beaten mud floors laid in all the three rooms, shelves and boxes\nfixed up as fittings, a rough table, chair, enamel wash-hand basin\nbrought in as furniture, and there was a splendid dispensary quite\nformidable in appearance and decidedly pretentious for one who possessed\nno qualifications beyond a few months hospital training. In Africa a\nlittle knowledge is not dangerous so much as useful. The most appalling\nforms of suffering are met with on every hand, and nothing but inhuman,\nsuperstitious, and absolutely ineffectual means are employed to alleviate\nit. Even if one can only cleanse and bind up the wounds and pour in oil,\nthe look of gratitude and contentment that reward the soothing of the\npain reminds one that it has not been wasted labour.\n\nThis first dispensary consisted of three apartments, the \u201cconsulting\nroom,\u201d drug store, and waiting room, where patients assembled every\nmorning at 8.30 for instruction in reading and a short bright gospel\nservice. This primitive medical work was a distinctly effectual means\nof reaching the bakopi (peasants), who had not hitherto been touched\nin any large numbers. The King having been the first in the country to\nadopt Christianity, the work in its initial stage had extended almost\nexclusively to the upper classes, while the \u201cforeign\u201d language had been\nan obstacle to the peasants who could not understand it.\n\nIt was frequently found that the curiosity and interest of patients in\nthe letters and syllables were so awakened that when there was no longer\nneed to attend the dispensary several passed on to the school to be\nfurther instructed.\n\nOne of the first patients was an old man who had been receiving\nulcer medicine from the missionary then in charge. Although his hair\nwas sprinkled with grey, and he suffered from an impediment in his\nspeech, nothing would daunt him in his assiduous struggles to master\nthe alphabet. Day after day he came, and even when cured of his ulcer\ncontinued coming, as he was afraid to go to the big school to learn.\nActually he did in time master words of three letters, and then, as he\nwas so anxious to be baptized, he was put into an old men\u2019s daily Bible\nClass for instruction. His joy was beyond description when with tears\nstreaming down from his eyes he came to me one day saying, \u201cMy mistress,\nI have finished being questioned, and now I am going to be baptized.\u201d I\nasked him, \u201cMpisi, will baptism save us?\u201d And he answered, \u201cOh no, only\nJesus who died for us on the Cross.\u201d \u201cThen what is the use of baptism?\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, \u201cChrist told us to believe and be baptized, and it shows\nthat we want to leave our bad habits and follow the habits of Christ.\u201d\nFrom that day he has rarely missed coming to the dispensary, not always\nfor medicine, but that he might teach the patients what he has learned.\n\nA daily attendance of thirty to fifty sick folk soon exhausted our\nlimited supply of drugs, and when Dr. and Mrs. A. Cook, on an itinerating\nround, paid a medical visit to Toro twelve months after our arrival\nthey found the medicine almost completely used up. Till the arrival of\nfresh stores the patients were being kept together by supplementing the\ndiminished stock with table salt, mixed spice, and curry powder. This\nlatter I found was a much-appreciated prescription, and as none of the\nmissionaries were partial to it and each had a good supply among their\nstores, I dispensed it generously to dyspeptic patients. You never saw\nsuch agonizing grimaces as when they swallowed a spoonful raw, but they\nsmacked their lips, saying, \u201cOmubazi mubingi muno muno,\u201d \u201cMedicine very\nvery good,\u201d and would have finished off the whole tin if they had been\nallowed.\n\nThat visit from the real \u201cmedicine-man\u201d was a grand time for our people,\nand they were not slow to show their appreciation and wonderment when\nopthalmic patients found themselves with \u201cnew windows,\u201d and surgical\nsubjects, the possessors of \u201cnew bodies.\u201d After that the Toro dispensary\nbecame amalgamated with the Mengo Medical Mission, and was regularly\nsupplied with medicines. The chief diseases met with out there are skin\ncomplaints, malaria, dyspepsia, pleurisy, bronchitis, besides paralysis,\nmuscular rheumatism, dysentery, and pneumonia. Owing to the inexperience\nof the dispenser nothing surgical was attempted in those days beyond\nlancing abscesses and gums, cutting tongue-tied infants, and stitching up\nleopard-torn patients. One man was brought in from a leopard hunt in a\nterrible condition; limbs and body were badly damaged, while the face was\nscarcely visible, the flesh of forehead and one cheek having been torn\naway, exposing bone and teeth. The extraordinary thing was, that after\nweeks and weeks of careful treatment, some very deep scars were the only\nsigns remaining of the terrible ordeal he had passed through.\n\nThese Batoro have grown absolutely reckless in the hunt. Their method\nis to surround the spot where the leopard is known to lie crouched,\nand slashing down the thick vegetation that conceals their prey, they\ngradually draw closer and form a smaller circle round it. All the time\nthey scream and pour down invectives on the head of the leopard, and by\nthe time it actually appears in sight they have worked themselves up\ninto such a state of excitement that, losing all self-control, some will\nactually throw themselves upon the infuriated creature. With one last\ndeath effort the leopard throws all the strength of its fury into its\nfinal attack; torn, and perhaps with mangled limb, the man is released\nfrom the grasp of his foe by a hundred spears being run through its body.\nThe injured are then borne on stretchers in triumph to the dispensary,\nand while the wounds are being attended to, the carriers and friends laud\nthe extraordinary prowess of the patient. Every man who is able to carry\nhome a blood-stained spear is sure of his wife killing the fattest goat\nor cooking the best possible meal in their honour.\n\nOne day, while dispensing medicine, an unusual shuffling and pushing\nseemed to be going on in the doorway, and walking round to find out\nthe cause, I saw a cow being pushed by force toward me. The herdsman\nexplained that it was very sick with \u201cKifuba\u201d (chest\u2014generally meaning\nindigestion). In order to quickly get rid of this undesirable patient I\nmixed up some castor oil with salt and ordered it to be administered in\none hour\u2019s time. I thought that would allow the cow and its master to get\na safe distance off.\n\nI rather regretted this afterwards, for very soon another veterinary case\nwas brought in for treatment. This time it was our own faithful Muscat\ndonkey; it was suffering terribly from the plague of flies that generally\nappear in the dry season. The poor creature\u2019s legs were absolutely raw,\nand it had almost lost the power of standing. After the donkey boy had\napplied antiseptic washing and ointment I tried to fix on bandages,\nbut donkey\u2019s legs were evidently never made the right shape for that\u2014I\ncould not get the bandages to stick. Mr. Fisher was then consulted on\nthe point, and of course, man-like, he suggested trousers. It really\nsounded very suitable, so I set to work on a pair, and when the donkey\nwas put into them he looked most distinguished. The people gathered round\nin numbers to see it, and exclaimed, \u201cWhat honour the European gives\nhis animal!\u201d There were several spectators who were not clothed so\nmagnificently, and being afraid of giving the impression of extravagant\nwaste, I explained to them the object of the garment and our ideas of\nkindness to dumb animals. The donkey did not take at all kindly to his\nfirst pair of trousers; perhaps they did not fit well; at all events, he\nkicked them to pieces in two days. A second pair was made on a modified\nscale, and whether or not the owner had cultivated more civilised\ninstincts, it is not easy to affirm, but they remained intact till they\nwere no longer needed, and the owner was able to run about and be up to\nhis usual pranks again.\n\nGreat care has to be exercised in administering drugs, as the people have\nabsolutely no idea as to how they act on the system. Medicine intended\nto last for some days has often been swallowed down in one dose, as they\nargue that if so much physic can cure them at all, the sooner it is taken\nthe better. Powders for internal use have been received with incredulity\nand sometimes scorn by those suffering from skin diseases, and they will\ninsist on impressing the dispenser that they are quite well inside.\nIf, with all their persuasion, they cannot obtain some blue stone to\napply to the sore (which they simply love, as it causes them to scream\nuncontrollably), then they go off with their packet of powders and show\nthe superiority of their wisdom to that of the white doctor by using it\nexternally.\n\nOne of the very few medicines that it is absolutely necessary to keep\nunder lock and key is sulphur, which is well known to them as an\nunfailing skin remedy when mixed up with butter. Our cook once bribed one\nof my little assistants to smuggle some away for him, and being misled by\nthe similarity in appearance, the lad gave him iodiform instead. This he\nmixed up into an ointment and smeared well all over his body. As he sent\nup dinner that evening iodiform was as pronounced as oil is in a German\ntable d\u2019hote. It was soup \u00e0 l\u2019iodiform, viande \u00e0 l\u2019iodiform, confection \u00e0\nl\u2019iodiform, caf\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u2019iodiform, in fact there was no getting away from it.\nWhen we left the table in despair we were like a chemist\u2019s laboratory.\n\nAs for ideas of hygiene, these are absolutely absent from the native\u2019s\nmind. When a person is very ill, regardless of her station in life, she\nis carried into the dirtiest and smallest hut. This is soon crowded up\nwith well-meaning and sympathetic friends, whose one idea of condolence\nseems to be to assure the invalid that she is on the point of dying.\nThe hut continues filling up till the only inlet for fresh air (the\ncramped doorway) is entirely blocked up, by which time the condition and\natmosphere of the hut becomes so indescribable that it is a wonder anyone\ncomes out alive. These things suggested to my mind that a few elementary\nlessons on hygiene might perhaps prove beneficial, so, taking to my\nafternoon class a diagram of the human body, I described to them the\nanatomy of the body, blood circulation, &c. Their interest and surprise\nwere great. They had always imagined that blood circulated from the head.\nThis was their argument for cutting their heads in cases of fever; they\nreasoned that malaria was an over-heating of superfluous amount of blood,\nso they must let out some. At first they were inclined to doubt the\nsoundness of the new theory of circulation from the heart, and asked \u201ccan\na river flow up, does it not always flow down?\u201d \u201cWhat about a spring?\u201d\nsaid I. They thought for one moment, and then answered \u201cThe European\u2019s\nwisdom has overcome ours.\u201d Then a new difficulty struck them, how was it\nin the case of women, for they had no hearts. Their old King Kabarega,\nwhen he killed off his wives, had cut open some, and never found one with\na heart. So the statement had become an accepted fact with them. How\ncould they have believed such an error!\n\nThey also imagined that mind was tucked away in the heart, and did not\nin the least associate brain with intellect. Poor woman, minus heart,\ntherefore minus mind, was very poorly endowed.\n\nTheir attention and interest were very keen, and did not seem to diminish\nwhen the moral was applied in the shape of ablutions, fresh air, and the\ncare of the body being essentials to health.\n\nIt is sometimes difficult to arrive at an exact diagnosis of a patient\u2019s\nailment. One will describe her complaint, pointing to her lungs, as a\nvoice inside that says \u201cChew, chew.\u201d Another affirm that a spear is\nrunning into every part of his body. Infants are always suffering from\nevil spirits or poisoning, in cases when a dose of dill water would be\ngenerally prescribed.\n\nAlthough I have occasionally met with a native doctor in a sick house, I\nhave never been able to discover a native drug or remedy outside cupping,\nbranding, and revolting forms of witchcraft. These men make a regular\nstudy of the art of deception and exact exorbitant fees in the form of\ngoats or even oxen. As an example let me give the case of a lad who was\nsuffering from tuberculosis. He had consulted the witch doctor, and after\nhaving paid his fee was told that he had been poisoned. Whereupon the\n\u201csurgeon\u201d drew his knife out from his belt and made a number of small\nincisions. He then declared he could see the poison inside the youth and\ntook it away. But the lad was not cured and so came down to give the\nEuropean\u2019s wisdom a trial.\n\nThis ignorant credulity of the people has sometimes proved useful to\nthe white man in times of extremity. In one instance a European noticed\nthat his daily supply of milk was continually disappearing in an\nunaccountable way, and one day he determined to investigate the cause.\nIt had been proved that the cows were not to blame; they had given their\nusual supply. The milk boy was cleared, for the boys of the household\nvouched for having seen it being delivered. The discrepancy in the\namount had unmistakably occurred in the cook house, where the cook alone\nwas resident at the time. So the culprit was called up to be examined.\nHe insisted on his innocence declaring all the while that he did not\nknow how to drink milk. As no eye-witnesses could be called the idea\nstruck the \u201cmagistrate\u201d that he would conclude the matter quickly and\nunquestionably by their own means. Turning to a youth close by he said\n\u201cJust fetch me my little pocket knife to bore a hole and see if the milk\nis inside the cook.\u201d Whereupon the culprit fell on his knees exclaiming,\n\u201cOh, master, I did drink the milk. Forgive me, I pray you.\u201d\n\nAfter the affiliation of the Toro branch with the medical headquarters\nat Mengo, the work was placed on a far more satisfactory basis. A report\nhad to be sent in every three months with statistics dealing with\ndaily attendance at the dispensary, out-patients\u2019 visits, etc. Then,\nin addition to this, a list was made out yearly of drugs and dressings\nneeded for the forthcoming twelve months, which ensured an adequate\nand regular supply of medicine. The work, however, passed through a\nvaried succession of small vicissitudes. Our faked-up building had to\nbe pulled down, as the site was needed for a new missionary\u2019s house,\nbut in exchange we got a brand-new airy dispensary. We scarcely knew\nourselves with such spacious surroundings, and the two little native\nassistants, who had been trained to attend to all dressings, assumed\nquite a ridiculous air of professional importance, to say nothing of\nthe feelings of the quack doctor! But at the end of a fortnight we were\ncompletely evicted from our grand premises\u2014patients, staff, drugs, and\nall. A violent storm had destroyed the only house that had been standing\nready to receive a fresh addition to the staff of missionaries, which was\nthen only within a few days of arrival in Toro. As there was not another\navailable inch, the new dispensary had to be speedily converted into a\ndomicile.\n\nFeeling decidedly crest-fallen, my little assistants and I packed up all\nthe medical impedimenta and carried them over to a little reed building\nthat had been the reading school till the constantly increasing inside\npack had necessitated more ceremonious premises.\n\nWe completed our removal, and had not been installed many weeks when a\nfurious hurricane swept over the little hill capital, and succeeding in\nthrowing our new dispensary completely over on its side. When the debris\nand roof were cleared away, a most heterogeneous collection of medicines\nwere revealed, all hopelessly mixed up in wild confusion. Pills of every\nshape and form were scattered about, bottles of liquid drugs, and stock\nmixtures had been smashed up, and the combination of odours was enough to\nfrighten away all the microbes for miles round. Once more, and for the\nfourth time, the dispensary was transferred to different quarters, and\nthere it remained until the present complete medical compound was erected\nat the advent of the much-longed-for and long-expected doctor in 1904.\nThrough the generosity of a friend in England the \u201cGurney Hospital\u201d and\nnew dispensary were then built, together with the doctor\u2019s house. The\nformer is a good-sized building consisting of two wards for thirty-four\npatients, besides consulting and waiting rooms, while the broad ten-foot\nverandah which runs all round allows ample space for convalescents.\n\nAt first the Batoro were inclined to be fearful of undergoing chloroform,\nbut King Kasagama, half out of curiosity and half out of a real desire\nthat his people should derive the fullest benefit from the \u201cdoctor\u2019s\nwisdom,\u201d successfully banished these fears. One morning he came down to\nthe dispensary asking that a slight ulcer from which he was suffering\nmight be lanced under chloroform. This was kept a profound secret from\nhis people till it happened to reach the ears of his mother just as he\nwas getting over the operation. The poor old lady came bustling down in\nbreathless speed very fearful of the effects the \u201csleeping medicine\u201d\nmight have had on her son. She was intensely relieved to find that\nnothing worse had resulted than rather a sorry expression on the usual\nsmiling countenance of the patient. It soon became the topic of the hour,\nand even to the distant villages the news spread. From that time surgery\nwas in great demand; in fact it became a kind of fashionable epidemic.\n\nThe need for medical work in these parts is seen in the one hundred to\none hundred and fifty out-patients that came up every day for doctoring,\nand the scarcity of vacant beds ever since the opening of the new\nhospital. Indeed it seems a practical impossibility to carry out to\nthese people the message of love, peace, and goodwill unless one can at\nthe same time do something to alleviate the terrible physical suffering\nto which they are subject. Besides being a most effectual channel for\nconveying balm and healing to their souls, the object lessons given\nto the in-patients must accomplish much in introducing new ideas of\ncleanliness and possible comfort into their own poor, dirty homes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nScholastic Work\n\n\nThere are many people who, not being quite up-to-date in missionary\nliterature, have an idea that the work of a missionary in such places\nas Africa is to stand under the shade of a huge sun-hat, umbrella, and\npalm-tree, in the broiling heat of the day, and preach to a small crowd\nof open-mouthed astonished semi-savages. The picture does not attract\nthem, and they dismiss the subject from their minds with \u201cI could never\nbe a missionary.\u201d\n\nWell, although I have found in Africa the identical topee, the umbrella,\npalm-tree, the broiling sun, and a few gaping crowds, yet the picture\nis a painful distortion of the truth. If there is one thing that a\nmissionary has less to do with than any other, it is preaching\u2014at\nleast, that is so in Uganda. He rather assumes the r\u00f4les of teacher,\nschoolmaster, builder, carpenter, doctor, nurse, and everything else, for\nhe has learned that the African cannot be a saint without being a scholar\nand an artisan, any more than men of other nations can.\n\nBesides the more direct spiritual work and the medical work that are\nbeing carried on in Toro, there are also industrial and educational\ndepartments. This former branch has not been developed to any extent,\nowing to the lack of workers, but, as far as he is able, King Daudi\nKasagama personally superintends it. Being most anxious that his people\nshould be instructed in useful trades, some years ago he sent a youth,\nIburahimu, into Mengo to be apprenticed for two years to carpentering at\nthe Industrial Mission of the Church Missionary Society. When the period\nhad transpired and the lad had served his time, Daudi wrote to England\nordering Rs.300 worth of tools, and, close to his own house, the King had\na large suitable shed erected. Iburahimu was then installed as Carpenter\nto the Royal Household, and twenty youths, who had signed for a two\nyears\u2019 apprenticeship, were placed under him for instruction.\n\n[Illustration: A SCHOOL IN TORO.]\n\nAny serving lad of the King who was employed on no particular service,\nand refused to be taught, was put in the chain gang for three months; for\nHis Majesty was determined to put a price on loafing in his household.\n\nThe entire educational work of Uganda is being carried on in Church\nSchools. Receiving no subsidy from the British Government, up to the\npresent there has been no question of Education bills, and consequently\nthere are no passive resisters among the Baganda!\n\nThe School system is, I believe, the one adopted by the Americans in\ntheir board schools, where boys and girls learn together, and no social\ndistinctions are recognized, but in Uganda, besides non-differentiation\nof sex and caste, there are also no age limitation\u2014children, parents, and\ngrandparents all attend the reading schools.\n\nOn reaching Toro, Miss Pike immediately took over this department of\nthe work, and within a few months the School had outgrown two different\nbuildings, and an extension had to be contemplated in order to make room\nfor the 300 average daily attendances. As soon as this was made known, a\nwilling band of workers was collected together under the Katikiro, and\nstarted throwing out the end of the mud building. I am quite sure no\nMember of Parliament ever laboured more strenuously than this one did!\nWhether it was levelling the soil, demolishing the old wall, erecting the\nnew, or roofing it in, he was always in the thick of it. But his dignity\nwould not permit him to throw aside any of his superfluous garments!\nAnd the coarse, Jaeger-coloured vest, tweed coat and waistcoat, and top\nlayers of draperies proved very oppressive. Every now and again he sank\nback in his chair quite exhausted, gorgeous coloured handkerchiefs were\napplied as mops to his steaming brow, and two attendants stood round with\nan umbrella and fan.\n\nA mistress in these reading schools must be free from any neuralgic\nor nervous tendencies. I was simply overcome with admiration at the\nspirit of fortitude and calm endurance that my colleague was displaying\nwhen I paid my first visit to the Toro seminary. Morning prayers had\nbeen concluded, and the School had sorted itself out into about twenty\nclasses, which represented various grades, from the alphabet to St.\nMatthew\u2019s Gospel stage, and each was presided over by a native teacher.\nThe scholars were a queer medley; chiefs clothed in their white linen\ngowns sat on tiny round stools, which they brought tucked under their\narm, and in the same class, struggling over the same letters, were seated\non the ground serving boys, probably their own, and raw peasants. Women\nwho had just left their cultivation and, strapping the baby to their\nshoulders, hurried off to school, were sitting with quite small infants,\nperhaps being taught their syllables by their own little daughters.\n\nExcepting in the alphabet classes, the scholars sat in a circle round\ntheir teacher who, with a strand of grass, pointed to the letters\nwhich all the pupils were expected to shout out together. The one\nlittle reading sheet only allowed those directly in front to read the\nletters right way up; the others, who were careful to take up the same\nposition each day, learnt at all angles. Quite a large proportion of\nthe Batoro are able to read their books upside down in consequence.\nWhen all the classes were fairly started and each of the three hundred\npupils was trying his best to drown his neighbour\u2019s voice, the noise\nwas indescribable. Each class had its own formula which was recited\nmetrically. Take for instance, the one dealing with syllables of three\nletters\u2014all the pupils sang out \u201cb\u2014w\u2014a, we call it bwa,\u201d then the teacher\nintoning, asked \u201chow many letters and what are they called,\u201d and the\nanswer was shouted back \u201cletters three, b\u2014w\u2014a, and they are always bwa.\u201d\nThen they tackled b\u2014w\u2014e, b\u2014w\u2014i, b\u2014w\u2014o, in the same way and so on all\ndown the alphabet. While this pandemonium is going on, one after another\nis sent up by his teacher to be examined by the European. The pupil\nwho answers satisfactorily is then given a pass to a higher form; he\nreturns to his old class to receive the profuse congratulations of his\ncontemporaries, and then marches off to his new quarters full of pride\nand elation.\n\n[Illustration: THE BAKONJO AT HOME.]\n\nOne would wonder how it is possible to ever learn to read in such a\nhubbub, but the Batoro have a remarkable power of insulating themselves\nfrom their environment, and some have been known to pass right through\nthe school, from the alphabet to the highest reading class in four months.\n\nUntil 1902 no other secular subjects were taught excepting writing, but\nat that time it was thought advisable to increase the educational work\namongst the Christian men and women, consequently two separate schools\nwere arranged for them in which they could be taught writing, arithmetic,\ngeography, and dictation.\n\nMiss Pike, who was then in charge of the women\u2019s work, took over their\nschool, and I was responsible for the other.\n\nMy pupils consisted of members from the Toro Cabinet, House of Lords and\nHouse of Commons! The Katikiro, our Lord Chief Justice, was nominated\nschool chastiser. Corporal punishment was his usual method of dealing\nwith a noisy scholar; with a sudden bound off his chair he made a rush at\nthe culprit, and if he was not quite sure who the offender was he struck\na box on the ears at all in the vicinity of the noise. The King reserved\nfor himself the office of school inspector, and generally looked in on\nhis way home from morning service at the Church.\n\nArithmetic was not at all an easy subject to start teaching these people,\nand they could not for a long time understand figures in the abstract.\nNumeration was the thing they were started on. With a blackboard and\nchalk I wrote up the usual 1, 10, 100, and then attempted an explanation.\nOne pupil instantly interrupted with \u201cBut what are the ten?\u201d \u201cOh, I said,\nten anything, ten chickens or ten eggs.\u201d \u201cBut if it\u2019s a chicken how can\nit be an egg,\u201d he replied. The Katikiro found arithmetic very difficult.\nHe stuck at \u201ctwice two\u201d for days; he would insist that it made twenty,\nand even when he was convinced otherwise, his memory refused to agree\nwith his conviction. But when he at last mastered the \u201ctwo times\u201d table\nand numeration up to a million, he rubbed his hands with satisfaction,\nand exclaimed \u201cWhat wisdom!\u201d When Kasagama heard of the different\nsubjects being taught he evidently thought that tailoring ought to be\nincluded, for, one day he sent down a lad with a roll of white duck, and\nan earnest request that I would teach him how to make coats. The boy was\nsent away with an explanation that in our country men did the tailoring.\nBut His Majesty was not to be put off, and so the message came back\n\u201cwould \u2018Bwana Fisher\u2019 teach him?\u201d Our protestations only called forth\nmore beseeching requests, so in despair I took a pattern from a London\ncoat and showed the boy how to put it together. The result was far from\nbeing complimentary to the original, but Kasagama did not take into\nconsideration the cut, so much as the fact that it _was_ a coat.\n\nA few of the more promising pupils used to come together each afternoon\nfor extra instruction, in order that they might be able to help in\nthe morning school which was getting beyond the work of one person.\nElementary astronomy was added to their list of subjects, and was a theme\nof intense interest and wonderment to them. One afternoon a very simple\nexplanation had been given them on how the world was held up in space by\nthe law of gravitation. After asking a number of questions they begged\nme to teach them nothing more that day, for they wanted to take the\nwords away and think them out. One man, who was a Muganda, stayed behind\nand very apologetically, as if afraid of suggesting that he doubted the\nveracity of my words, he asked if the world is held up by gravitation,\nhow did it manage for the first three days, for in Genesis we read that\nthe sun, moon, and stars were created on the fourth!\n\nUganda to-day presents a land rising from a sleep of centuries. The\noutside world in its onward march has stepped in, and with its Babel of\nTongues roused the people from their long deep slumber. Thus startled\nout of lethargy, the surprised nation stands gazing in wonderment at a\ngreat world controlled by undreamed-of mental and moral forces. And a new\ndesire has been born within them, a desire to bring themselves under the\nsame irresistible powers. The possibility is there, but the guiding of\nthe mind and soul of the people cannot be undertaken by itself. England\nholds herself responsible for the protection of its national life, and it\nis for the Church of God to-day to stand at the helm, and steer past the\nrocks and shoals till the people have learned to take over the control\nthemselves.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[1] Native guards or soldiers.\n\n[2] Surely the most ardent critic of missions could not have failed to\nbe convinced of the reality of these people\u2019s Christianity had he looked\nat the order of this great service. Their reverent behaviour as they\nworshipped in a church built with their own hands, and listened to one of\ntheir own native clergy, must have deeply impressed even the most cynical\nonlooker.","title":"On the borders of pigmy land","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":69789}