A short two and a half
hours' march brought us within sight of Kwikuru, which is about
two miles south of Tabora, the main Arab town; on the outside of
which we saw a long line of men in clean shirts, whereat we opened
our charged batteries, and fired a volley of small arms such
as Kwikuru seldom heard before. The pagazis closed up and adopted
the swagger of veterans: the soldiers blazed away uninterruptedly,
while I, seeing that the Arabs were advancing towards me, left the
ranks, and held out my hand, which was immediately grasped by Sheikh
Sayd bin Salim, and then by about two dozen people, and thus our
entrée into Unyanyembe was effected.
CHAPTER VIII. MY LIFE AND TROUBLES DURING MY RESIDENCE IN UNYAS
NYEMBE. I BECOME ENGAGED IN A WAR.
I received a noiseless ovation as I walked side by side with the
governor, Sayd bin Salim, towards his tembe in Kwikuru, or the
capital. The Wanyamwezi pagazis were out by hundreds, the
warriors of Mkasiwa, the sultan, hovered around their chief, the
children were seen between the legs of their parents, even infants,
a few months old, slung over their mothers' backs, all paid the
tribute due to my colour, with one grand concentrated stare. The
only persons who talked with me were the Arabs, and aged Mkasiwa,
ruler of Unyanyembe.
Sayd bin Salim's house was at the north-western corner of the
inclosure, a stockaded boma of Kwikuru. We had tea made in a
silver tea-pot, and a bountiful supply of "dampers" were smoking
under a silver cover; and to this repast I was invited. When a
man has walked eight miles or so without any breakfast, and a hot
tropical sun has been shining on him for three or four hours, he is
apt to do justice to a meal, especially if his appetite is
healthy. I think I astonished the governor by the dexterous way
in which I managed to consume eleven cups of his aromatic
concoction of an Assam herb, and the easy effortless style with
which I demolished his high tower of "slap jacks," that but a
minute or so smoked hotly under their silver cover.
For the meal, I thanked the Sheikh, as only an earnest and
sincerely hungry man, now satisfied, could thank him. Even if
I had not spoken, my gratified looks had well informed him, under
what obligations I had been laid to him.
Out came my pipe and tobacco-pouch.
"My friendly Sheikh, wilt thou smoke?"
"No, thanks! Arabs never smoke."
"Oh, if you don't, perhaps you would not object to me smoking,
in order to assist digestion?"
"Ngema - good - go on, master."
Then began the questions, the gossipy, curious, serious, light
questions:
