The Last Journals of David Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to His Death, Volume II (of 2), 1869-1873: Continued By A Narrative Of His Last Moments And Sufferings, Obtained From His Faithful Servants Chuma And SusiLivingstone, David
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The Last Journals of David Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to His Death, Volume II (of 2), 1869-1873: Continued By A Narrative Of His Last Moments And Sufferings, Obtained From His Faithful Servants Chuma And Susi
Livingstone, David
Africa, Central -- Description and travel
My attendants, who were scattered in all directions, came running back
to me, calling out, "Peace! peace! you will finish all your work in
spite of these people, and in spite of everything." Like them, I took it
as an omen of good success to crown me yet, thanks to the "Almighty
Preserver of men."
We had five hours of running the gauntlet, waylaid by spearmen, who all
felt that if they killed me they would be revenging the death of
relations. From each hole in the tangled mass we looked for a spear; and
each moment expected to hear the rustle which told of deadly weapons
hurled at us. I became weary with the constant strain of danger,
and--as, I suppose, happens with soldiers on the field of battle--not
courageous, but perfectly indifferent whether I were killed or not.
When at last we got out of the forest and crossed the Liya on to the
cleared lands near the villages of Monan-bundwa, we lay down to rest,
and soon saw Muanampunda coming, walking up in a stately manner unarmed
to meet us. He had heard the vain firing of my men into the bush, and
came to ask what was the matter. I explained the mistake that Munangonga
had made in supposing that I was Kolokolo, the deeds of whose men he
knew, and then we went on to his village together.
In the evening he sent to say that if I would give him all my people who
had guns, he would call his people together, burn off all the vegetation
they could fire, and punish our enemies, bringing me ten goats instead
of the three milch goats I had lost. I again explained that the attack
was made by a mistake in thinking I was Mohamad Bogharib, and that I had
no wish to kill men: to join in his old feud would only make matters
worse. This he could perfectly understand.
I lost all my remaining calico, a telescope, umbrella, and five spears,
by one of the slaves throwing down the load and taking up his own bundle
of country cloth.
_9th August, 1871._--Went on towards Mamohela, now deserted by the
Arabs. Monanponda convoyed me a long way, and at one spot, with grass
all trodden down, he said, "Here we killed a man of Moezia and ate his
body." The meat cut up had been seen by Dugumbé.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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