CHAPTER V

The Country

Toro is one of the four Kingdoms that comprise the Uganda Protectorate and lies on the North-west boundary. The present outlook would lead one to think that it will remain unaffected longer than the other three neighbouring States by the inroads that civilization is making in Uganda, which the railway has brought into such close proximity to the outside world, while traders pass along the splendid caravan roads through Bunyoro up to the Nile, and to the Southern cattle-rearing Kingdom of Ankole. There is nothing to attract them to Toro, as the journey is a real physical effort, and there is no commercial prospect of mineral wealth or remunerative industry to justify the long journey. The ivory that formerly brought the Arab traders into the country is now almost entirely preserved by the British Government. So, unless Toro is visited by more successful prospectors than those who have already casually looked round, who shall discover some hidden mine of wealth, in all probability it will remain undisturbed in its present state of rusticity.

But it is a wonderful country, and one that must ever fascinate a lover of nature and its freaks. The mountains are in themselves a unique feature. One can scarcely reconcile the co-existence of an equatorial sun and eternal snows, yet so it is. Strange mountain tribes in quite primeval state live among its forests and creeks, while just on its other side extends Stanley’s Great Forest with its pigmy inhabitants.

On all sides one sees the results of the operation of mighty unseen forces. Numbers of extinct volcanoes are visible from our hill, the craters of which form the beds of lakes now, with vegetation and forest growth stretching down their sides to the water’s edge.

They must have enjoyed a good long sleep, as no hints of their activity are traced in the native traditions, which go back to a corresponding Adamic period. There are quite a number of legends, however, which invariably associate them with evil spirits that are supposed to live in the craters. This is believed even still by some of the raw peasants. One day a woman told me that her two little boys had been playing in the courtyard while she was at work, and the “Muchwezi” (evil spirit) from the Crater hill two miles away had come and run off with her elder child. For two years he had remained lost to them, when suddenly he returned clothed in a strip of bark-cloth and a charm round his neck peculiar to that evil spirit. He was sworn to divulge nothing of what had happened to him while being with the evil spirits in the crater, under the penalty of being caught away again by them.

[Illustration: THE MARKET PLACE.

_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]

Here let me recount a rather unique picnic we had at one of these crater lakes three miles away. It happened on a Monday—the Missionaries’ off-day—when general repairs and washing are usually done, or visits paid to neighbouring villages. We started off on our bikes in high spirits which managed to survive a heavy thunderstorm that overtook us half way and soaked us through. We hung ourselves out to dry round a fire in the hut on the lake shore, and having warmed ourselves with tea made for the lake in search of wild-duck. We baled the water out of the dug-out canoe and set off with three boys as paddlers. You never met with anything more aggravating than an African dug-out; they are so badly balanced that the least movement threatens to overturn the skiff; and as for steering, that is out of the question. Anyhow, when we were far away from our landing point, the canoe refused to move, except in complete circles. We could make no headway; the united efforts of all—barring myself, who did not row—failed to move the boat except in rapid revolutions. Then a storm blew up and darkness seemed to be suddenly settling down on us. One of our party, who knew from experience our danger, was in a terrible fright. I tried hard to tune up to “Excelsior” and “Midshipmite,” which eventually evidently appealed to the kind heart of the elements, for the boat moved and we were safely landed. But the return home was the difficulty. The moon went in as soon as it appeared, and as it was so dark a different route was suggested, in order to escape the river which we had to cross on our way out. About half way we found out that the recent storms had washed away the bridge we had relied upon to get us across the river and so were obliged to trust to other means. Miss Pike headed the procession on a boy’s shoulder, but as the water came up to the lad’s armpit her position was far from enviable. Then I ventured on the donkey, sitting in a sort of tailor fashion, but, alas! the water refused to let me off scot free. After that, in a miserably drenched condition, with our flapping skirts like reservoirs of water, we trudged on through long grass and thick mud, and at last reached a succession of deep swamps. One of these looked so tragic and interminable that the men insisted on crossing hands and taking me through in dandy-chair style. I shall not forget that experience. Like Christian of old, one of my carrier’s strength and courage failed him, and half-way I became suddenly aware that he was rapidly disappearing under water. A violent yell brought small boys to the rescue, who, supporting me, managed to extricate him from the mud depths, and a second start was made; but just as we were reaching the other side the same poor, unfortunate man landed in more mud, into which he sank. Before I could release my hold, I saw him go completely under the water, and felt myself rapidly descending into the depths over his head. The situation was so ludicrous that the awful after-effects were forgotten in the peals of laughter which no one could restrain, in spite of the poor man’s miserable condition and my own.

To resume our description—on the east of Ruwenzori the land presents an unbroken stretch of undulating country; on the west side the land falls rapidly and forms the Semliki plain, so called after the river that winds zig-zag through it, uniting the Albert Edward Nyanza on the south to the Albert Nyanza on the north.

Descending to this plain round the north end of the mountain range, the configuration of the land indicates two distinct ancient water levels; this is confirmed by the quantities of small shells that are often found in scattered heaps among the sandy soil, similar to those now found on the Lake shores.

With the exception of the fringe of the Congo Forest that enters the Toro boundary, and the Bamboo Forests that grow so thickly on the slopes of the mountains, Toro is not abundant in trees and timber. Wide veins of woodland winding along the river courses, however, form welcome relief to the prolific elephant grass that covers hills and valleys. Looked down upon from a distance these extended forests present a rich variety of tints. Winter is never seen, for when old age strikes the branches, the tree breaks forth into its second childhood under the influence of the sun’s rays. But on entering beneath the shade of these tempting oases, one realizes a feeling of disappointment, for everything appears to have outgrown its beauty. Powerful and unkempt creepers and rubber plants have wound their long bare limbs like poisonous snakes round the barks and branches of the trees till the vegetation has ceased to breathe in their grasp, and has withered away. Then the mischievous little monkeys as they frolic and scamper about leave such litter behind!

Toro is almost entirely void of isolated trees. The annual grass fires that are lighted to clear the country for the sowing of the crops have given them no chance of an existence.

Banana groves are gradually springing up over the country, for the Batoro are emulating the example of the Baganda in adopting the unsweetened banana called “Matoke” as their staple food. Formerly they lived entirely on “Bura,” a small millet which possesses a very low percentage of nutritive quality. The only thing that commends it is the infinitesimal amount of labour needed for its cultivation, and this is the chief consideration of these folk. They grind the grain between two stones which gradually crumble away in the process, making the food when cooked hardly distinguishable from boiled sand.

Ruwenzori gives the whole kingdom of Toro a very plentiful water supply. The streams, flowing down from the ever-melting snow and ice, unite and form clear and swift rivers which provide the land with pure cold water, but at the same time make the country difficult for travelling about in. The crude bridges made by the natives get washed away in the rainy season, which often monopolises nine months out of the twelve. The mountains seem to attract every cloud that rises above the horizon. Nature indulges in most phenomenal pranks out there. There may be a perfectly bright cloudless afternoon, when suddenly it looks as if all the clouds of heaven had been unchained and let loose. From every direction they gather in impenetrable blackness, then girding themselves with fury, they burst forth and, with a hurricane in their wake, menace Toro with a few angry tears of passion and break with roars of thunder and tongues of fire on Ruwenzori’s side. Failing to shake that mountain ridge, they rebound and empty themselves upon Kabarole. In a few minutes the whole country is a wash-out; the hills send down sheets of water, and so do our thatched roofs. Unless these are under constant repair, all our little black boys, when they see a storm coming, are armed with pots, pans, basins, and dishes, and stand about in the rooms to catch the rain water, and so save themselves the trouble of going to the spring.

One afternoon a terrible thunderstorm broke over Toro; the force of one clap, which was simultaneous with the most vivid lightning, was indescribable. A thunderbolt seemingly had fallen just over our heads and sounded as if a million dynamite explosives had burst over us. Scarcely had one recovered from the momentary shock, when the dreaded sound “Tera enduru” was heard; this is a fire alarm which the natives produce by clapping their lips with the palm of their hand. Hastening outside, we saw clouds of smoke issuing from Mr. and Mrs. Maddox’s house, which adjoined ours. Not waiting for hats or umbrellas, we hurried across to the yard, where boys and girls were rushing frantically about; Mrs. Maddox was in bed with fever in the very room where the fire had broken out. Her room was blazing away, while she was asleep, unconscious of her danger. Wrapping her in blankets, we managed to have her carried across to our house. The lightning had struck the corner of the room, instantly igniting the thatch, poles, and bamboo ceiling; the flash had travelled through the room, just escaping the bed, but singeing a little Bible on the table close by. Really, her escape was nothing less than a miracle. In a very short time the Katikiro was on the spot with his men, and we all worked hard at carrying out the things. To save the house was an impossibility. It was merely a fight with time and fire—pulling down packing cases and books, carrying out stores, boxes, bedding, clothing, crockery, tables, and chairs, and feeling the flames were quickly devouring all that lay in their way. When almost the last item was out, we were ordered away, and with a crash the end of the roof fell in, while the flames ascended in one solid, angry mass. Meanwhile, the King had posted an army of men to guard our house, and fan away all sparks with large banana leaves. All this had taken but fifteen minutes, so you can imagine the rapidity with which everyone had worked. The only things burnt were a tent and camp-bed, which had been stored in the roof, and were quite unreachable.

Fortunately, this happened just ten days before they were due to leave for England, so they were not homeless for long.

The whole of Toro seemed to crowd into our court, congratulating us all on our escape, and thanking God for protecting us. You will easily imagine how dead beat we were when the day was over, and how we welcomed sleep; but this was not to be for long, for at 12.0 midnight the same alarm of fire awakened us, and tearing on our dressing gowns and slippers, we found Mr. Fisher’s women’s house a conflagration. This was truly terrifying, as it was in such close proximity to his own house; while, as the house was entirely built of grass and reeds, the flames were more rapid and dense. Black figures, silhouetted against the flaming background, were seen wildly scrambling up on to these two roofs, beating away the flames and sparks. It really seemed an impossibility to save either, especially when you heard people shouting “Muije okutukonyera enju yahya” (“Come and help us, the house is on the point of burning.”) But I am glad to say the God of Deliverances was again with us to save, and to show forth His power. Nothing was lost but the women’s house, and the possessions and clothing of the seven women. In the morning, this was found to be a case of incendiarism; a small girl, who had recently left through stealing, had set fire to the house to revenge herself on the women.

These things are a little bit upsetting to one’s nerves; the constant earthquakes and terrific thunderstorms keep one always girded for flight. One afternoon the missionaries had met together for afternoon tea, and suddenly there was a slight underground murmur, and the house shook as if it trembled. There were three windows and one door to the room, and out of them the three men instantly disappeared; they looked rather shaken when they came back for their tea. It was agreed not to let out names!

On the western wide of Ruwenzori, and close to the base of that mountain range, are boiling springs containing a considerable proportion of sulphur. The natives have discovered their medicinal properties for skin diseases and have digged channels so as to divert part of the water into trenches or pits where they can sufficiently cool it for bathing purposes. They also carry their food down to the springs, and in a short time the plantains or potatoes are cooked and ready for use.

Lying as it does on the Equator, Toro experiences scarcely any change of seasons all the year round, and in consequence of its being some 5,000 feet above sea level, the temperature scarcely rises above 75-80° Fahr. in the shade, while the nights are often cold enough to justify the log fires that the Europeans indulge in. The prodigious and constant rainfalls just rob the country of a reputation it might have held for possessing an ideal climate for the colonist and for agricultural purposes. Except in the low-lying marshy districts, Toro is exceptionally free from mosquitoes and malaria, and, up to the present, not one case of sleeping sickness has been known.

The soil is abnormally rich. Eucalyptus seed sown in the open produces trees of 12-15ft. in 18 months. Strawberries yield two and three plentiful crops annually, in fact growth has often to be checked, as in the case of cauliflowers, which need transplanting three times if fruit is to be obtained. Excellent coffee is grown in the country, and a very limited amount of inferior wheat. There is no reason why rice should not be successfully cultivated in the swampy soil, and tea on the sides of the mountains. The great obstacle to the developing of industries at present is the difficulty of transport to the districts where there is a profit-yielding demand. No minerals have yet been discovered with the exception of an appreciable amount of iron, which the people have instinctively learned to work; they are able to turn out good spear heads, hoes, knives, and even rough needles of clumsy proportions.

This is undoubtedly one of the world’s natural zoological gardens. Huge herds of elephants, sometimes numbering 200 or 300, trundle through the tiger grass; leopards and lions may be heard at night roaring after their prey, sometimes even round the capital; crocodiles and hippopotami infest the lakes; monkeys and chimpanzees scamper about the forests; snakes lie coiled up in the long grass; and everywhere teems insect life, from the infinitesimal jigger to the locust. Lions are feared less by the people than leopards. In Bunyoro, where lions showed a leaning towards human flesh and blood, the King or Chief of the infested district used to send out two black cows or calves, and the lions, after having tasted their blood, no longer troubled the people, but dieted from that time on pigs and hyenas.

Toro is still in the infancy of its development; the land, its resources, the people, and their possibilities are fields that give promise of a harvest of rich fruition to those who go to labour with mind and will.