Mr. Cooley was unfortunately dead; it would have been a great joke to send him. Johnston, in a very interesting account of his expedition (not translated into French), indicates its significance from a scientific point of view. He writes:
Although the Kilimanjaro massif rises rather sharply from a wide-spreading plain, it would be difficult to describe it as isolated. In fact, it would be more correct to say that an almost unbroken succession of mountain chains and independent peaks link Kilimanjaro with Ethiopia to the north, Natal to the south, and perhaps even Cameroon to the west. Judging by the flora which cover its upper slopes, Kilimanjaro may be seen as a meeting place for a number of botanical species which characterize these three mountain zones, despite very great distances between them.
In the great height of Kilimanjaro and in the equatorial location of this snow-capped mountain—which factors result in an extraordinary variety of climatic factors active on its slopes—there seem to be sufficient causes to explain the birth or development of many surprising features of its fauna and flora. Similar conditions have only been found in Central and South America, for nowhere else do tropical mountains reach the level of permanent snow.
Moreover, the long mountain chains reported from little-known regions are extremely interesting for naturalists. The high mountains isolated from other peaks are rather like islands in a mighty ocean: they serve as last-resort homes to primitive types or local variations which, in larger more crowded spaces, would be caught up in a conflict for resources, and would disappear in the struggle for life. Alternatively, some zoological species or botanical variety, which was formerly present in a large area, finds itself, as the result of varying circumstances, confined to a particular mountain chain or a desert island. There it has shelter and protection in its own development against the dangers coming from the presence of competing species. This can enable it, free from threatening competition, to develop an exuberant range of individual members.
Another interesting aspect of the fauna and flora of these high mountains is that they often still possess elements of an earlier natural system which has been replaced in the lowlands by more recent arrivals for a long period. Thus the Kinabalu, the highest mountain in Borneo, still has on its highest slopes a range of plants related to those of Australia, while on the surrounding plain the vegetation is of Indian origin. In the Alps, one finds butterflies from the arctic fringe of Europe. In the mountains of Ethiopia, there are families and species of animals and plants which belong to countries with temperate climates to the north and south, from Europe to the Cape of Good Hope. The question of how the fauna and flora of Kilimanjaro relate to those of other geographical regions is a very interesting one, and, when it has been solved, it will help us to resolve a number of puzzles concerning the geographical distribution of living organisms.1
Kilimanjaro has therefore considerable scientific interest, but it is still more a cause of interest from the political aspect. As soon as the question of the partition of East Africa was raised, contenders lined up as though it were a competition for climbing the greasy pole. The winner would be whoever laid their hands on the icy mountain. Those who were simply spectators of the changing fortunes of the countries and peoples of this part of the world have seen some curious scenes appear, one after another.
For a period of three or four years, agents of the Sultan of Zanzibar, of the German Empire, and of the United Kingdom, have been leading caravans loaded with presents, accompanied by interpreters whose mouths were full of the most beautiful phrases. When they got to Kilimanjaro, each one of the twenty independent chiefs was ready to claim to be the paramount chief over all the others. The agent was welcomed and his presents were accepted, with promises of unshakable friendship. When the next agent arrived, a month later, the chief had no difficulty in changing his flag. It was a jolly time.
However, everything has to come to an end, even questions of the transfer of power. By the treaty of London, a line, now found on all the maps, was drawn from Vanga to the Kavirondo Bay in Lake Victoria Nyanza, which specifically assigned Kilimanjaro to Germany. But where does this massif begin and where does it end? Two delegates, one British and one German, tried unsuccessfully to settle this question, one of them considering that the lowlands extended into the mountain area, the other considering that the mountain included a good deal of the supposed lowlands. It has always been said that human perception varies from individual to individual, and this episode provides an interesting proof of this assertion. Finally, two new commissioners, Dr. Karl Peters for Germany, and Lieutenant C. A. Smith for Britain, were appointed and, at the moment of writing, are still at work.2
Looking at it from yet another aspect, Kilimanjaro has also awakened missionary interest. Following Sir H. H. Johnston’s journey, the Anglican Church Society (The Church Missionary Society) sent one of its members from Mombasa to start a mission (1885). On his side, Mgr. R. de Courmont, Vicar Apostolic of Zanzibar, was very eager to go up this mountain, plant there the cross which the Redeemer has left as his sign to the world, and set up an altar for the sacrifice of the mass, the heritage of the Catholic Church. Every year, however, there were difficulties about attempting such a journey. Soon we seemed to feel that, though Kilimanjaro was not so far away, the Arab saying about it—”an enchanted mountain which moves, which one tries to reach, but one can never get there”—was only too true.
This time, however, we seemed to have a good chance of getting there. From Bagamoyo on the coast, we at Zanzibar had been sent thirty-five porters, chosen from among the best of the barefooted carriers of that place. We had taken care to house them immediately at the mission, just as in countries with parliamentary elections voters who will vote correctly are kept under observation and are only let out in a cart at the right moment. But despite everything, ten were misled by a Belgian company which took them from us to send them to the Congo, and seven by a British company which recruited them for the Kavirondo. Nevertheless, we were determined to go forward all the same! Everybody needs to live. Our freight was ready. We took passage on a British steamer going to Mombasa and we disembarked there, hoping to recruit the extra porters we would need. We prayed that the guardian angel of Kilimanjaro should help us and lead us to the mountain.
Cycas Circinalis (Bagamoyo)
1. Johnston, Kilima-Ndjaro Expedition, 3–5.
2. It is now known that Germany’s claim to the Kilimanjaro massif was accepted.
Chapter 2: Arrival at Mombasa
How we Broke the Law. New Recruits.
Let’s Go. Our Route.
July 10, 1890
Since Mombasa became the capital of the British Protectorate of Zanzibar, the residence of the Administrator General of the Imperial British East African Company, and the point of departure for the railway line, this old and unpretentious town has known a new lease of life. The railway line linked the Indian Ocean to Lake Victoria Nyanza and was intended as tradesmen’s entry to Upper Egypt. There are, facing the dark and solid Portuguese fortress inherited from the distant past, small new buildings scattered beneath the green coconut palms of English Point, whose style tells us that the Europeans have returned. This was brought home to us in a straightforward, down-to-earth manner. We did not want to burden the town with our baggage and porters, nor did we have the intention, the time, or the opportunity to find a house. We went straight to a place outside the edge of the city, where nobody was living, and where big mango trees offered their branches as protection. And so we made our camp. But, in the evening shadows, when the flames had just begun to flicker around the cooking pots, we saw a Sudanese soldier, a member of the Imperial British East African Company police, running up with a letter from the Administrator General. We began to wonder if we had been taken for a gang of pirates and if we would have to go and sleep at the post. I squatted down and read the letter by the light of the cooking fires. The message was simply this: our caravan had piston rifles, hunting rifles, military rifles of good quality, and revolvers,