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Updated: May 7, 2025
Every canoe we meet shouts us a greeting, and asks where we are going, and we say "Rembwe" and they say "What! Rembwe!" and we say "Yes, Rembwe," and paddle on. I lay among the luggage for about an hour, not taking much interest in the Rembwe or anything else, save my own headache; but this soon lifted, and I was able to take notice, just before we reached the Ajumba's town, called Arevooma.
The dead brother was a great man in Arevooma and a pagan, but Ndaka, the Christian Bible-reader, seems to get on perfectly with the family and is holding tonight a meeting outside his brother's house and comes with a lantern to fetch me to attend it. Of course I have to go, headache or no headache. Most of the town was there, mainly as spectators.
At last the fact that we were to be received being settled, Gray Shirt's friend led us out of the guard house the crowd flinching back as I came through it to his own house on the right-hand side of the street of huts. It was a very different dwelling to Gray Shirt's residence at Arevooma. I was as high as its roof ridge and had to stoop low to get through the door-hole.
The pace made by the Fans, who are infinitely the most rapid Africans I have ever come across, severely tired the Ajumba, who are canoe men, and who had been as fresh as paint, after their exceedingly long day's paddling from Arevooma to M'fetta. Ngouta, the Igalwa interpreter, felt pumped, and said as much, very early in the day.
In which the voyager goes for bush again and wanders into a new lake and a new river. July 22nd, 1895. Left Kangwe. The four Ajumba did not turn up early in the morning as had been arranged, but arrived about eight, in pouring rain, so decided to wait until two o'clock, which will give us time to reach their town of Arevooma before nightfall, and may perhaps give us a chance of arriving there dry.
When we reach Arevooma, I find it is a very prettily situated town, on the left-hand bank of the river clean and well kept, and composed of houses built on the Igalwa and M'pongwe plan with walls of split bamboo and a palm thatch roof. I own I did not much care for these Ajumbas on starting, but they are evidently going to be kind and pleasant companions.
We have an addition to our crew this morning a man who wants to go and get work at John Holt's sub-factory away on the Rembwe. He has been waiting a long while at Arevooma, unable to get across, I am told, because the road is now stopped between Ayzingo and the Rembwe by "those fearful Fans." "How are we going to get through that way?" says I, with natural feminine alarm.
It gives under your feet in an alarming way, being raised some three or four feet above the ground, and I am haunted by the fear that I shall go through it and give pain to myself, and great trouble to others before I could be got out. It is a beautiful piece of workmanship, and Arevooma has every reason to be proud of it.
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