The Last Journals of David Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to His Death, Volume I (of 2), 1866-1868Livingstone, David
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The Last Journals of David Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to His Death, Volume I (of 2), 1866-1868
Livingstone, David
Africa, Central -- Description and travel
24th _April, 1868._--We leave Chikosi's ruins and make for the ford of
the Kalungosi. Marigolds are in full bloom all over the forest, and so
are foxgloves. The river is here fully 100 yards broad with 300 yards
of flood on its western bank; so deep we had to remain in the canoes
till within 50 yards of the higher ground. The people here chew the
pith of the papyrus, which is three inches in diameter and as white as
snow: it has very little sweetness or anything else in it. The headman
of the village to which we went was out cutting wood for a garden, and
his wife refused us a hut, but when Kansabala came in the evening he
scolded his own spouse roundly and all the wives of the village, and
then pressed me to come indoors, but I was well enough in my mosquito
curtain without, and declined: I was free from insects and vermin, and
few huts are so.
_25th April, 1868._--Off early west, and then on to an elevated forest
land, in which our course was S.S.W. to the great bend of the rivulet
Kifurwa, which enters Moero near to the mouth of the Kalungosi.
_26th April, 1868._--Here we spent Sunday in our former woodcutters'
huts. Yesterday we were met by a party of the same occupation, laden
with bark-cloth, which they had just been stripping off the trees.
Their leader would not come along the path because I was sitting near
it: I invited him to do so, but it would have been disrespectful to
let his shadow fall on any part of my person, so he went a little out
of the way: this politeness is common.
_27th April, 1868._--But a short march to Fungafunga's village: we
could have gone on to the Muatize, but no village exists there, and
here we could buy food. Fungafunga's wife gave a handsome supper to
the stranger: on afterwards acknowledging it to her husband he said,
"That is your village; always go that way and eat my provisions." He
is a Monyamwezi trading in the country for copper, hoes, and slaves.
Parrots are here in numbers stealing Holcus sorghum in spite of the
shouts of the women.
We cross Muatize by a bridge of one large tree, getting a good view of
Moero from a hill near Kabukwa, and sleep at Chirongo River.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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