McMillan, Some Somalis And Captain Duirs Came
Along In Another Similar Rig.
Our driver was a Hottentot
half-caste from South Africa.
He had a flat face, a yellow skin,
a quiet manner, and a competent hand. His name was Michael. At
his feet crouched a small Kikuyu savage, in blanket ear ornaments
and all the fixings, armed with a long lashed whip and raucous
voice. At any given moment he was likely to hop out over the
moving wheel, run forward, bat the off leading mule, and hop back
again, all with the most extraordinary agility. He likewise
hurled what sounded like very opprobrious epithets at such
natives as did not get out the way quickly enough to suit him.
The expression of his face, which was that of a person steeped in
woe, never changed.
We rattled out of Nairobi at a great pace, and swung into the
Fort Hall Road. This famous thoroughfare, one of the three or
four made roads in all East Africa, is about sixty miles long. It
is a strategic necessity but is used by thousands of natives on
their way to see the sights of the great metropolis. As during
the season there is no water for much of the distance, a great
many pay for their curiosity with their lives. The road skirts
the base of the hills, winding in and out of shallow canyons and
about the edges of rounded hills. To the right one can see far
out across the Athi Plains.
We met an almost unbroken succession of people. There were long
pack trains of women, quite cheerful, bent over under the weight
of firewood or vegetables, many with babies tucked away in the
folds of their garments; mincing dandified warriors with
poodle-dog hair, skewers in their ears, their jewelery brought to
a high polish a fatuous expression of self-satisfaction on their
faces, carrying each a section of sugarcane which they now used
as a staff but would later devour for lunch; bearers, under
convoy of straight soldierly red-sashed Sudanese, transporting
Government goods; wild-eyed staring shenzis from the forest, with
matted hair and goatskin garments, looking ready to bolt aside at
the slightest alarm; coveys of marvellous and giggling damsels,
their fine-grained skin anointed and shining with red oil, strung
with beads and shells, very coquettish and sure of their feminine
charm; naked small boys marching solemnly like their elders;
camel trains from far-off Abyssinia or Somaliland under convoy of
white-clad turbaned grave men of beautiful features; donkey
safaris in charge of dirty degenerate looking East Indians
carrying trade goods to some distant post-all these and many
more, going one way or the other, drew one side, at the sight of
our white faces, to let us pass.
About two o'clock we suddenly turned off from the road,
apparently quite at random, down the long grassy interminable
incline that dipped slowly down and slowly up again over great
distance to form the Athi Plains. Along the road, with its
endless swarm of humanity, we had seen no game, but after a half
mile it began to appear. We encountered herds of zebra, kongoni,
wildebeeste, and "Tommies" standing about or grazing, sometimes
almost within range from the moving buckboard. After a time we
made out the trees and water tower of Juja ahead; and by four
o'clock had turned into the avenue of trees. Our approach had
been seen. Tea was ready, and a great and hospitable table of
bottles, ice, and siphons.
The next morning we inspected the stables, built of stone in a
hollow square, like a fort, with box stalls opening directly into
the courtyard and screened carefully against the deadly flies.
The horses, beautiful creatures, were led forth each by his proud
and anxious syce. We tried them all, and selected our mounts for
the time of our stay. The syces were small black men, lean and
well formed, accustomed to running afoot wherever their charges
went, at walk, lope or gallop. Thus in a day they covered
incredible distances over all sorts of country; but were always
at hand to seize the bridle reins when the master wished to
dismount. Like the rickshaw runners in Nairobi, they wore their
hair clipped close around their bullet heads and seemed to have
developed into a small compact hard type of their own. They ate
and slept with their horses.
Just outside the courtyard of the stables a little barred window
had been cut through. Near this were congregated a number of
Kikuyu savages wrapped in their blankets, receiving each in turn
a portion of cracked corn from a dusty white man behind the bars.
They were a solemn, unsmiling, strange type of savage, and they
performed all the manual work within the enclosure, squatting on
their heels and pulling methodically but slowly at the weeds,
digging with their pangas, carrying loads: to and fro, or
solemnly pushing a lawn mower, blankets wrapped shamelessly about
their necks. They were harried about by a red-faced beefy English
gardener with a marvellous vocabulary of several native languages
and a short hippo-hide whip. He talked himself absolutely purple
in the face without, as far as my observation went, penetrating
an inch below the surface. The Kikuyus went right on doing what
they were already doing in exactly the same manner. Probably the
purple Englishman was satisfied with that, but I am sure apoplexy
of either the heat or thundering variety has him by now.
Before the store building squatted another group of savages.
Perhaps in time one of the lot expected to buy something; or
possibly they just sat. Nobody but a storekeeper would ever have
time to find out. Such is the native way. The storekeeper in this
case was named John. Besides being storekeeper, he had charge of
the issuing of all the house supplies, and those for the white
men's mess; he must do all the worrying about the upper class
natives; he must occasionally kill a buck for the meat supply;
and he must be prepared to take out any stray tenderfeet that
happen along during McMillan's absence, and persuade them that
they are mighty hunters.
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