Big Game Shooting, volume 1 (of 2)Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
General
Big Game Shooting, volume 1 (of 2)
Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
Game and game-birds; Hunting
This chief afterwards died close to our waggons from pneumonia set up
by the irritation of some old spear wounds in his chest. He was beloved
by the Makololo, was the fastest runner and best fighter among them;
just, though stern, with wonderful power of attaching men to him. He
was a gentleman in thought and manner, well disposed to Europeans, and
very proud of their visiting him. Had he not died he might have been
of the greatest use in civilising and missionary work. His kingdom
has, I am afraid, melted away. The sceptre descended to his daughter,
who thought, as man took a plurality of wives, a queen might allow
herself like liberty in the way of husbands. Bickering and strife
arose, and though the rule went to her brother after her resignation,
he was not of the same calibre as his father, and disintegration of
the heterogeneous elements of the carefully put together and wisely
ruled kingdom soon set in. The nation lost its unity, and resolved
itself into its separate nationalities--in the course, I believe, of
a very few years. Such has been the fate of all African kingdoms; one
great man has made and held them together, and at his death they have
returned to the several petty tribal royalties out of which they were
welded.
And now, having had my say on Big Game, one word on the ‘biggest
beasts’ of Africa--the slave traders--and one on the country, and I
have done. It was on the Chobé that we first came across the slaver’s
work. We had travelled all night through the sleeping flies. I was
in advance with the gun and half a dozen Kafirs with axes, with which
they had been clearing the way. In the very early morning we reached
the river, narrow, but deep, with steep banks. I asked the guide if
we could cross it. ‘Do they swim?’ he asked, pointing to the waggons.
‘No,’ I answered; ‘where’s the ford?’ There was none, he said. ‘Are
there tsétsé here?’ I inquired, and he replied that there were plenty.
‘What are we to do with the animals?’ and he told me to drive them as
near as possible to the water, into the reeds, as the flies were not
there, only in the bush. The pests were beginning to buzz about as the
sun rose, so we took the man’s advice, and while the others lay down
for a rest of an hour or two I volunteered to keep watch. Putting my
back against a tree, I kept my eyes steadfastly fixed on my charge for
a time, and then I suppose I must have closed them, though of course I
should deny that I was asleep.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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