Memoir

This is a memoir my grandfather, John Ernest Stych, wrote about his experiences in Africa.

He traveled to Malawi in the early 20th century to give practical assistance to the mission efforts there. You'll find his views are somewhat old fashioned in places, but it was a long time ago, and he writes of the people and places he encountered with affection. I have attached a further memoir he wrote much later to the end of this which goes into a little of the mission history before he arrived. Further details (dates etc) are in the biographical notes (see the pull-down menu, top left). He refers several times to the Shire River, which is the outlet from Lake Malawi that eventually connects to the Zambezi and then to the Indian Ocean. 'Shire' is not the English word, it is a native word and the final 'e' is pronounced, so read it as something like 'sheeray'. The rest is JES' writing:

SOKOLOKA OF THE BANTU PEOPLE

Quite early in life I had set my hopes on work in Melanesia but I found that although they needed workers their need for money was greater so i had to give up the idea of the Mission.

It was at this stage that I received a letter from the Bishop of Nyasaland who had heard of me from The Rev Hobday on holiday in England. In short the letter said. 'There is work in Central Africa if you are prepared to accept; just cable the office in London, arrange your own passage as far as Durban and you will find full instructions awaiting you there.'

I had never thought of going to Africa but who could turn down such a straightforward offer. So my passage was booked on the'Ceremic' for Durban. Quite an interesting trip for with the passengers and crew there were altogether about 1000 souls on board and the promenade deck in the evening was as crowded as a shopping night in any of our small towns. This being her maiden voyage and at 18,000 tons, the 'Ceremic' was the largest ship at that time to have visited these parts we were put on a bit of a fuss at each call. The Governor a new pier at Hobart and so on.

When we reached Durban and almost before the ship had tied up at the wharf a letter came aboard for me from the Bishop of Nyasaland giving me every detail for my journey from there to the far away interior. The thoroughness of our Bishop's instructions made my trip to the Lake just one glorious holiday

So shall we start from there and wander into the dark continent. Of course I had to stay in Durban a few days waiting for the coastal steamer and in that time I picked up the necessary supply of tropical clothing. It was not long before a Union Castle liner called on her way up the coast and so my journey continued. There were a couple of calls at Portuguese ports but eventually we arrived at the mouth of the Zambezi.

There is no means of getting within miles of Chindi the Portuguese settlement here so a small tug is sent out to the ocean-going ship standing well off the land and the passengers are taken on the tug. When the passengers were mustered there were five of us; the other four were going to the Scottish Mission also on Lake Nyasa so I had company on the journey.

When they put me in the basket to lower me into the tug I had my doubts if I would need any company. You look over the side of the basket and you see a small tug a long way down. It rises up a bit and then goes down again. Now this time wait for it, it comes up with a rush and they drop you on the deck just like a bundle. The tug takes you down with it with the same mad rush and the fastest lift I have ever traveled in has nothing on that.

The tug takes you to the small Portuguese settlement Chindi situated on the northern outlet of the Zambezi and from there one takes a riverboat about five days into the interior. After you enter the main water of the Zambezi the journey is not very interesting for you travel for days up this mile wide expanse of dirty water fringed on either side with tall grass and you see nothing whatever of the flat country beyond the grass. You may see a few flamingos and the occasional crocodile slips off a sandy bank, or a hippopotamus at a distance. If you don't see a hippo you are certain to feel the hippo fly who makes his presence with a sting never to be forgotten.

On the first day up the river from Chindi we had an opportunity of making a call to see the grave of the wife of David Livingstone. This not a usual call but as the Scottish Church party had a nephew and niece of Livingstone amongst them the Captain granted the concession. The grave and the house where Mrs. Livingstone died are well kept by the natives.

During that travel up the Zambezi we pulled in and tied up at the bank each night as there would be difficulty in keeping to the channel. As soon as the boat draws near the bank all mosquito doors must be shut to keep out the cloud of insects. An interesting point to this changeover is the millions of very small frogs which cling to the reeds and make a noise like tiny tinkling bells giving a contrast to the comparative quiet of the day in the centre of the river.

At about 80 miles up we turn off from the Zambezi into the Shire which is the river flowing from Lake Nyasa into the Zambezi and from here we get a sight of higher country with Marambala Mountain standing out in the foreground. Here too one gets the first glimpse of the native people as the steamer passes close to their villages on the banks. The children dance along and make weird noises in their excitement at the sight of the boat, but the physical condition of them was rather a shock to me. They gave me the impression of skeletons with skins stretched over them and a balloon affair rigged up for a stomach. These people have very little idea of proper feeding of children and I believe that only about one in five used to survive the experience.

A little way up the Shire River brought us to Port Herald which is the first contact with British territory for up till then we had been traveling through Portuguese country. Now we joined a railway which took us a full day's journey from Port Herald to Blantyre (the British settlement in the Shire Highlands) the hub of the commercial life of Nyasaland and one almost imagines oneself on the border of civilization again.

The African Lakes Co. accommodation house set in beautiful grounds with wide balconies overlooking the mountain country was very refreshing after the river. It was a bit alarming though when you go to your own room and find no mosquito net but the management soon ease your feelings by telling you that mosquitoes do not live up there and you can have one night's restful sleep without a net

That railway journey up to Blantyre was quite a picnic. We were each provided with a hamper of lunch (roast chicken and so on ) and at midday the train stopped and we were asked to take our teapots to the engine for hot water. Meanwhile the engine was being loaded up with firewood for the rest of the journey. There is no coal in the country and even the steamers use wood for fuel.

The stay in Blantyre was short and the next morning found us on the road early in the most primitive form of transport, the gareta, (rickshaw in other countries). I had the pleasant company of one of the Scottish mission men with me in the gareta making the journey much brighter than traveling alone. These garetas are drawn by a team of natives; one in the shafts and four pushing from behind with an extra team trotting alongside for relief when necessary. Since they all wear little bells on their ankles and there were three garetas our progress through the forest country was well advertised.

Each night a halt was made at a rest house provided by the African Lakes Co. with a native in charge. As newcomers we could not speak his language nor could we understand any of the men who carried our loads and us through the day, but we had no need for they understood their job and everything we could wish for was done for us without asking. My companion in the gareta had a small book on the Chinyanja language and we thought we might find the meaning of a word here and there. When the gareta got off the centre of the road we found ourselves through the rough surface and the camber of the road being crushed together so we had to ask the "Kapitan" (foreman) to put the team back central again. We tried to catch the word used and eventually tracked it down to 'pakatikati', so the next time we found ourselves in that uncomfortable position we simply said, 'pakatikati' and it worked alright.

The rest house we pulled up at was in a very pretty spot and I got a great deal of interest in seeing more of the wild life of the country. In some undergrowth we saw a couple of snake skins which were transparent like thin parchment. It seems that a young snake grows so fast that his skin has to be shed to give him room to expand. There these skins hung giving a perfect impression of the snakes they had once covered.

Next morning we were astir bright and early. The men who carried the loads were off at the crack of dawn and I thought of those Europeans I met in the south who condemned the Missions and declared the black to be lazy. Theses men shoulder a 60 pound load and travel all day without a meal until they get into camp in the evening. So we started another day of pleasant traveling in our gareta and stayed the night in at Zomba the government settlement.

Next day we travelled on the lower country along the upper reaches of the Shire River and stayed at a rest house of the African Lakes Co. that night. The set up of these rest houses consisted of a dining room in the centre with a bedroom either side; one for men and one for women. The walls are not exactly sound proof, so when Miss Livingstone complained loudly to her room companion in the middle of the night we were all amused. She called to her brother and told him that her bed was full of ants and they were all through her hair. The doctor tried to joke about it while the women had to do the best they could with the ants themselves and drive the little pests out. I have had it happen to me since and it is not so funny. Normally we keep a tin of water under each bed leg to prevent this, but the boy had forgotten to put the water in. We learn quickly.

In the morning I discovered a lump like a pea under my toe for which I could not account. I appealed to a native boy. He said with some apparent alarm 'matakenya Bwana '. That didn't mean much to me but I let him have a needle which he seemed anxious to borrow and left him my toe to experiment with. Very skilfully he extracted the whole sack of eggs and as I learned later saved me from a very sore foot. These matakenya are like a very minute flea which burrow in round ones toes and lay their eggs. If that sack breaks you are likely to have a very sore foot. Altogether we didn't think that stop quite so nice and the blood curdling howls of the hyenas on the plains at night didn't sound very friendly.

Another day's journey in the garetas brought us to the south end of the Lake Nyasa where I parted company with my Scottish friends going on to "Mpondas" village for my first introduction to the Universities Mission and my work. "Mpondas" station on the Shire River not far from where it flows out to Lake Nyasa is an important station. Everything goes through that station. Stores for all stations and staff traveling in and out of the country.

After a few days I transferred to another station, "Malindi " which is on the other side of the lake about six miles away. There was a week or more before the steamer would return and so give me the opportunity of going up the Lake to my destination, and there was a job I could do at Malindi while waiting. This is a remarkable station with a high hill rising straight up the back of it and leaving very little foreshore. It is said that from this high land Livingstone got his first glimpse of Lake Nyasa. Stretching away on either side of Malindi are vast plains carrying large herds of game of all sorts and it was quite possible to find anything even as large as elephants strolling through the station at night. The largest things that came to my house were snakes and they seemed to like meeting me on the doorstep every night. I was destined to meet and kill a lot of snakes so this early introduction to them was perhaps helpful.

We did have a call from a lion one night though and we found it had broken into the "kola" and taken one of the cows. One could hardly credit that a lion could move such a heavy weight over a stone wall. But this actually happened and we found the cow some hundred yards from the kola.

With the arrival of the steamer I set out on my journey up the lake and found myself in the company of one our native clergy who was returning to Kota Kota after a short holiday. As i was to become a member of the staff of Kota Kota it was very interesting to have him to talk to. He spoke English fluently and most African languages.

A lot has been said about ordinary things that one may miss the point of my being in Africa. Although only a layman there is need of us together with hospital staff and teachers to support the work of the Priest and thus help to bring the light of the Gospel to those people who so badly need salvation. A glimpse of the life of this Petro Kilekwa who was now my companion on the steamer would show something of the beginnings of the work of the Universities Mission.

The first attempt to carry the Gospel to the Lakes failed as Bishop McKenzie and several staff died in the Shire Highlands before reaching the Lakes. They came in contact with that degenerating evil the slave trade with its chief market in Zanzibar off the East Coast of Africa and a decision was made to restart the work from there (Zanzibar) taking over released slaves from the interior who could be trained and sent back to carry the Gospel to their own people.

Petro Kilekwa who was now my companion on the steamer was rescued from one of these slave gangs and placed under the care of the Mission in Zanzibar. He was taken from his mother and was so young that he is not sure what part of the country he came from. After training in the Mission at Zanzibar Petro was one of the first batch of teachers to go to the lake. He was later ordained and has done a great work in the Marimba district. He was now at Kayoyo an outstation of Kota Kota two days walk from me; but i saw a great deal of him as it fell to me to build the church at Kayoyo later on.

Shortly after our arrival we all went to Likoma Island the Mission Headquarters where I met about 40 Europeans who represented the men and women of the staff of all stations throughout the Diocese. The total native adherents under their care was 45,560 including 21,676 communicants. It should be remembered that theses were not members of the Mission because it was fashionable to be so. The opposition leveled against a Christian in village life makes it hard for them to remain staunch to their faith yet these men walk long distances in all circumstances to fulfill their duty as Christians.

Likoma Island has an area of about 8 square miles with a population of 5,000 natives and is entirely governed by the Mission. At the north end is the teachers training college while the college for clergy is in the south. In the centre on the site which was known as "chipyela" meaning 'the burning place of witches' stands a magnificent stone Cathedral excelling in beauty anything I have seen here. What a difference in purpose: and this building which holds 200 people has two celebrations on a Sunday morning to cope with the numbers who come for the sacrament. After a short retreat here I returned to Kota Kota to commence my real work and Petro on to his work in the hills.

Kota Kota is about one third of the way up Lake Nyasa which is 350 miles long and about 40 miles wide. The Mission Station is built on the lake shore surrounded by a fairly large mixed native population caused by the fact that it was the headquarters of the notorious Arab slave trader Jumbi. It therefore possessed a mosque also which we could well do without.

With the four lady workers and the priest in charge my addition brought the European staff to six and these together with the two native clergy worked Kota Kota and its 22 outstations as far away as Kayoyo, two days journey. The priest in charge a wonderful man to work with showed me over the station pointing out the things which would come under my care. There had been no layman there for a long time and there was a lot to do such as repairs to buildings; a stone chapel to build, a grain store and a house for myself to live in and so on.

To begin with one had to establish a camp for about 200 men brought in from outside villages for work. Forty men also had to be found to set up a logging camp about nine miles out to cut trees, pit saw them, and bring in the boards for the carpenters. There were thousands of bricks to be made at the station which when dried had to be built into kilns to be baked. While the bricks were being made numbers of men were sent out to cut firewood and build up a liberal stack for the burning of the bricks. Then of course we needed the grass and bamboo for the thatching of roofs. My "boy" rang the work bell at 6 o'clock in the morning and away we would go.

Stephen, the "boy" as we called him was the same age as myself and married a few months ago, but Livingstone had introduced "boy" into their native language to avoid using the only word they had for servant which is slave, "Kapolo", so that now the personal servant of the European is "boy" and even the girls who work for the ladies on our staff are called "boys" when referring to their work.

One day shortly after I was settled into the routine this Stephen was crossing the station with me when without any warning he suddenly disappeared around one of the buildings. This seemed a bit odd so I asked the lady in charge of the Girl's School (my Tutor in Chinyanja) who happened to be passing just then what would be the reason for it, she said, "That is 'chipongwe ',(impudence) you can't have that. Ohl here comes Stephen now I'll ask him about it." After a great flow of Chinyanja from both of them without my being able to understand a word of it she burst out laughing and told me that I was walking straight towards Stephen's mother-in-law and he had to run to .keep out of sight. According to their custom a man is not allowed to see or speak to his mother-in-law during the first year of marriage. I said that according to things I had read there must be numbers of men back home who would welcome that custom and extend it beyond the first year.

I realized then the necessity for learning the language and customs of the people in order to avoid misunderstandings. One instance of this was when a nurse who was new on the station came across the word "chapa" when she sent her clothes to be washed. So when she wanted the dishes washed she used the word again; but you cannot "chapa" dishes.

Another time one of our men came across the word "samba"---- "to wash oneself" ---and translated it as "wash", and to try out his Chinyanja handed the boy a pair of socks, pointed to the bath and told him to "samba". The boy did exactly what he was told and proceeded to take a bath much to the disgust of the "Bwana". In Chinyanja there is no equivalent to the English word "wash". "Chapa" describes the action of pounding wet clothes on a stone or some place until you force the dirt out; "chuka" means the act of rinsing dirt off cooking pots etc.: and 'samba" means wash oneself.

Another thing that rather surprises a new arrival in the country is the fact that domestic animals cannot be kept there because of the tsetse fly. True we have had a few Indian humpbacked cattle to provide us with milk for our tea and sometimes we produced enough butter to spread a few scones fora Sunday afternoon tea as a luxury, but generally speaking the fly hampered any progress in this direction.

The tsetse fly does not work all over the country although no satisfactory explanation has been given why this is so but it always works in a belt about one mile wide. In our district the belt started at Chididi on the lake shore about nine miles south of Kota Kota and finished eleven miles north by the lakeside so that one must go through that semi-circle belt when moving overland out of Kota Kota and a horse for instance would be useless for transport even if you could overcome the difficulties of lions and leopards. We had two cows brought through from Northern Rhodesia in the hope of improving our stock but in spite of all precautions the fly must have bitten them and they only lived about four days.

At the end of a rather busy season I was persuaded to take a run down the south coast just beyond our usual sphere of work and see a little of the people and country there. "Bwanamali " the village I camped at was a beautiful little place built right in the heart of the forest and only about twelve huts. Glorious place just for a couple of days relaxation but the chief came early in the morning to tell me there was a herd of buffalo not far away. They were there alright for I saw the tick birds flying above them but the grass was too long to be able to get a glimpse of the buffalo. In that case it is not wise to wait until you can get them in a better position as they are not beasts to be played with. So we went back to breakfast. Back towards camp we ran into a flock of guinea fowl (for they native of that country) and Stephen certainly knew how to cook them. While I was resting later a woodpecker gave a demonstration with his beak on a hollow tree just above my tent. They are not common and that is the only one I saw on my travels.

Going out later to look for those buffalo (the natives are very anxious for meat if you will shoot it for them) we noticed a number of hippo on the lake shore. A huge head would bob and down enquiringly every now and then. The reeds and grasses along the shore were kept pretty well mowed down by them when they came out at night to feed. Just rounding a bend we met a few golden cranes but one has to see these graceful long-legged birds with their brilliant colours to appreciate them.

We did not get in touch with the buffalo again but a couple of hartebeest satisfied everyone. This made us a bit late getting back to camp and it was dark before we arrived. Just before entering the village there was a peculiar scream as it seemed just below the ridge we were travelling down. "Elephant" my boy said but never having heard an elephant trumpet I stopped to question. I realized they were elephants and that they were actually charging. "Tamanga" (run) yes I hit the right word. We ran alright and I finished up at the village a good last. The chief had heard elephants about before we came back and had prepared fires but the herd circled the village and went away.

It was just a couple of weeks later that this village was wiped out by elephants. The "Nkokwe" (food store) in which the natives store their maize was built on the same principle as their own huts so when the elephants are looking for grain they push everything over.

It was a while after this little trip that I had to make preparations to go to Kayoyo in the mountains and build a brick and stone church there. This was two days journey going the shortest way. It is surprising the size of the "Caravan" I had collected for the purpose. At a place called Nkufi the path ran corkscrew fashion up the sides to a narrow pass at the top of the hill and as I looked down from the pass there were 60 odd men trailing out with their loads single file right down the hill which made an interesting picture. You must take trained workers, carpenters, bricklayers, brickmakers, stonemasons and so on. Hundreds of labourers can be employed from the village when you get there.

The building was much the same as any other so I will confine myself to the people etc. Petro Killekwa was in charge of the station and I gleaned a lot from him about native customs and so on. We discussed that peculiar system of giving each European a name and he told me it was the custom to give a name to each one as they entered the country. This is not used in the presence of the person and he is not told of its existence. To illustrate the point when the first manager of the African Lakes Co. arrived to open trading stores he was named "Mandala" because he wore glasses. As the company grew each trading station became known as Mandala as belonging to the man who started it.

Petro disclosed the name given to me "Sokoloka" (Man of Mystery) and it seems the reason for this name had some bearing on the mysterious fact that although I came from New Zealand I was like an Englishman. One never hears these names used but once you set foot in the country you are known to everyone by them.

During my stay in Kayoyo building the church I stumbled on that heathen practice of the "Vinyao Dance" which is not for European view. Men go out into the forest and dress up as all sorts of animals representing the spirits of their departed ancestors. These are brought into the village in the evening and hold the women and children in terror while they each perform their various dances. This goes on fora week leading up to the full moon and then carries right through the night then the animal spirits are ushered back into the forest. I was on the wall of the church building early that morning and asked what the noise was going on down the valley although of course I knew from what Petro had told me. "Njovu Bwana" was one smart heathen's reply. Of course there was no elephant but I cut in quickly, "Run up to the house and tell my gun-boy to bring the rifle, I must shoot that animal." I soon got a more correct explanation of what was going on which gave me an excellent opportunity of discussing their spirit worship and showing them its evils.

Game in the country is fairly plentiful and the natives have an interesting way of capturing it. Towards the end of the dry when the grass has grown long and dried off it is arranged to burn off over a wide area and so kill the game as it breaks back. Petro told me the chief was holding a "Chili" (bum off) the next day and a place a few miles away was cleared if I would care to witness it. A fire break had been cleared round each village and this spot was where I was to stand would equal perhaps a half acre made absolutely clear and it was hoped to be about the centre and finish of the bum therefore the game would be thickest there. Each headman starts his fire according to the wind and with all the spears and bows he can muster starts following the fire in. By the time I had walked to my station and spent a couple of hours there the smoke began to show up over the hills and rapidly closed in down one hillside after another. I suggested to Stephen we might get cooked as the smoke and ashes gradually enclosed us. Then I realized we were not alone on our clearing. There were baboons and all sorts of animals racing through the smoke.

With a suddenness which is so remarkable to me the whole scene changed in a flash. The walls of grass and the smoke had gone and left the hills standing in black nakedness with their leafless trees.

But that was not all. An army of men with bows and arrows surrounding us and up and down the gullies there was a real war on. I never saw so many animals and men in combat at one time. I mentioned this was done at the end of the dry season. There are only two seasons in Nyasaland--wet and dry—with a day of roughly the same length all the year round. Sunrise 6 a.m. Sunset 6 p.m.

There is not the growth of forest trees there or the undergrowth one is so used to here but the tall grass gives plenty of cover for the very extensive animal life and one has to get used to the vast abundance of living creatures. Even a blade of grass as it appears to be may prove to be an insect and get up and walk while you are looking at it.

The ground simply teems with insect life and there is a wonderful wealth of birds and animals also. I have seen hundreds of head of game on some of the plains but you don't run into these things every time you move. Their own protective colouring plays a great part in helping them out. A Government resident and I were stalking a herd of waterbuck one evening and got separated for a while. He came on five lions also stalking the same herd and I never saw one of them.

If you thought of all the animals and diseases liable to cause one's death it would appear impossible to walk through the country. They are there alright plenty of them but you just don't have to meet. Well as I said there are two seasons and for nine months of the dry season the country gets very burnt up for we are only 10 degrees south of the Equator. Then as the rains approach the whole scene changes. The forest trees now put on leaves while the floor of the forest becomes carpeted with flowers and with this change of conditions the birds and even the lizards change to match their surroundings. Numerous birds which have drab colours and appear like sparrows through the dry season now put on brilliant colours showing distinct differences in species.

Some become black with red heads others yellow heads and breasts and so on. Then there is the widow bird which develops a long flowing black tail. One bird puts a long white feather in each wing running about three times the length of the wing. The lizards also develop bright colours in their tails heads or bodies according to species. So then in spite of the heavy thunder storms and the rain which hinders your movements a bit the rainy season is a pleasant relief from the long dry one.

Well the bricks had been made and burned and a lot of stone had been cut and dressed and the walls of the church were steadily rising but Petro was not altogether happy with the small school boys. Like all boys they try to copy the men and this business of the "Chili" they would try out in the long grass within the confines of Kayoyo village. Of course they did not expect big game although curiously enough one small reed-buck did break from one of these bums and ran right past my door. What the were really after were mice. Early in the morning after the burn they would see by the tracks on the ashes where these mice had gone to earth and they were soon busy digging them out. Carried away by their sport they would arrive at school very late with a string of mice around the waist. The reminded me of men I used to see back home returning with their rabbits strung on them after a day's shooting. These boys will tell you that a toasted mouse goes lovely with your porridge. Matter of taste I suppose.

Kayoyo village is right under Nchisi Mountain and not far away is "Chipata" Mountain with its needle point peak sticking up 6000 feet. I was tempted to have a look at the scenery from there so made a day for it. As we climbed the vegetation changed slightly showing plants we hadn't noticed lower down.

Just before the forest line ceased there were caves which obviously had been used by poor unfortunates fleeing from the slave raiders. The last few hundred feet were just bare rock with small tufts of a peculiar close-clinging plant here and there. I found rubber soled gym shoes the only safe way to cling to it and hung on like a fly. It was unfortunate after the effort to gain the top we had to sit on those four square yards of the summit with a cloud below us shutting out the whole view of the surrounding country.

It was while I was building the church at Kayoyo that the "Chilembwe" movement started probably influenced by some enemy in Britain. Anyhow it never got beyond Blantyre where it started. The order was sent out for every boy to kill his master and thus free the country of whites so that Chilembwe would take charge. It was some while before I heard of this through the mail and I asked Stephen about it, had he heard about Chilembwe , "Yes".

"Why didn't you tell me, were there not enough of us here to protect you?" "Why should I cause you worry?' Can we trust a native? And this was the man who was allotted the job of cutting my throat according to Chilembwe.

Again I was unfortunate enough to contract blackwater fever before I had finished the church and a runner was called for to take an urgent message to Kota Kota. A stranger in the district whom I had befriended and given work to undertook this and made a very fast trip returning with the Machila which was sent up to carry me down. He was a splendid carrier it seems and asked to be allowed to help the Machila team after the nurse had given me a good check over it was decided to carry on right through the night to get me to Kota Kota as soon as possible. In the general chatter amongst the men I noticed this man carrying at my head and asked that they put somebody else in to give him a spell. However he came back before very long and I heard him telling the Machila carrier to let him carry. I was his Bwana. Had I not helped him! He would carry me.

So then that finished the first chapter of my African experience and perhaps my usefulness to the Mission. It was a long struggle before I recovered and I never returned to finish the work at Kayoyo. Instead I was taken over by the Navy for work on the pay staff looking after the native crews of the ships, In this work I remained until the end of the war and was sent back to New Zealand in 1919. Some of the work was very interesting although for the most part I was stationed in an office at a place called the Bar near the outlet of the Shire River from Lake Nyasa. During my couple of years in this service though I did see most of the ports of call on the lake and was actually doing the rounds in one of the small gunboats when I received news that my passage for New Zealand had been arranged.

Transcribed October 2004 by James H Parkinson b1920.

EARLY HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITIES

MISSION TO CENTRAL AFRICA.

7 OCTOBER 1930.

It is 70 years ago yesterday since the first party of workers set out from England on 6 October 1860. It is interesting too to see that there is a point of contact between the UMCA and the early work in New Zealand.

Bishop Selwyn while in England in 1854 preached several sermons on 'The work of Christ in the World", and it was hearing these sermons which influenced Charles F McKenzie, (who became the first Bishop to Central Africa) towards a service in the mission fields.

Bishop Colenso was in England in 1854 at that time seeking recruits and McKenzie offered and went back with to Natal as his Archdeacon. Then Livingstone had made his appeal to the Universities of England and there was a gradual development towards the formation of a mission to the people dwelling around the lakes of Central Africa.McKenzie returned home from Natal just when everything was ready for the undertaking and he was selected to lead the party. So on October 6 1860 the first party sailed taking a long while in reaching their destination.

At this point it might be helpful to look at the state of Central Africa at this time. Livingstone who went back with this party found the country much changed since his first visit. The Matabele, whose prowess we afterwards learned much of, had defeated a tribe in the far interior, the Bangai, and stolen and slain their women and children. The Bangai offered ivory to the Portugese slave dealers to supply them with wives.

The Portugese looked round for any tribal wars and consequently there would be a weaker tribe able to be enslaved. They found that a section of the races who lived on the eastern side of Lake Nyasa were fleeing south before the terrible Mataka (Makan). The Yeos had reached the country round Lake Shirwa where there was plenty of land and would have settled peaceably but the Manganja took advantage of their half starved state and sold them to the Portugese. By degrees the Yeos became the stronger and turned the tables on the Manganja selling them in turn to the Portugese instead of being sold themselves. Like most African tribes the Yeos were by turns enslaved and enslavers.

It was with the upper Shire in this state of turmoil that the first party of the UMCA arrived. They had resolved to take no part in native wars, but who can calculate the effect of the actual sight of a slave gang on men of loving hearts and strong hands. Well the mission party were on their way from Zambezi to the upper Shire and resting at a village by the way. Bishop McKenzie and the others had gone to bathe. A string of slaves filed into the village driven by slave dealers. Livingstone, his brother and Dr Kirk went out to meet them. They disarmed the slavers and let them go.

The villagers with great joy released the slaves. Only the night before one poor fellow had been discovered trying to release his bonds and had been hung up to a tree by his hands and feet. When it was found he was unable to walk in the morning he was taken aside and an axe ended his torment. When the Bishop returned from his bathing these slaves were handed over to him. He gave them the option of returning to their homes or remaining with him; but the poor fellows had no homes to return to, so that the Bishop was at once the father and head of a flock of 84 slaves.

But they were not to work long on the Shire. First the Bishop died at Chiromo on the lower Shire and several others of the party died at Mangamoro in the Highlands. This brought about the move to Zanzibar on the East Coast with the idea of working through the released slaves to spread the Gospel to the interior. The next move was made to penetrate the interior by the Rev. Johnston who went in as far as Matakar country but after some terrible experiences over these hundreds of miles was driven out. He entered again with the Rev. Jarman as companion and this time got as far as Lake Nyasa only to bury his companion almost as soon as they reached the lake.

Johnston was soon after taken by the natives and stripped of all his belongings and was lost trace of for about five years. It is wonderful how he lived on native food and under native conditions. Eventually he came out and went to England to appeal for a steamer to work on the lake. The steamer was taken out in parts by way of the Zambezi and Shire and was put together at Matopi on the upper Shire and sailed to Lake Nyasa.

The steamer which was named the 'Charles Jansen' after Johnston's first companion to the lake carried on a great work in establishing mission stations around the lake and it was only last year through some misfortune that it was sunk. The makers home in England expressed surprise at it still being in commission. And it was only last year that Archdeacon Johnston still working amongst his flock on the lake passed away after 50 years of continuous service. I have lived with him on my visits to Likoma. It was a wonderful inspiration to have been with such a man.

With Johnston who brought the Church of England up the Zambezi were some released slave boys. One of these Petro Milikwa (recently ordained priest) worked with me through the whole of my first term of two years in the interior. From that beginning the Mission has developed and now has fourteen main stations each controlling a large area with numbers of out stations in Nyasaland. The island of Likoma which is in the centre of Lake Nyasa is entirely Mission property and the headquarters of the Nyasa Diocese and has 9000 adherents. Total for the Mission 45,000.

Now let us look at the country through which these men worked. The physical features are easy to grasp. From the coast there is a low scorched plain reeking with malaria and extending inland for 100 miles or so. This is succeeded by mountains slowly rising into a plateau 2000 to 3000 feet. This at some hundreds of miles distant forms the pedestal for a second plateau as high again. This last plateau 4000 to 6000 feet high may be said to occupy the whole of Central Africa. It is only on a large scale that these can be recognized as plateaux at all, for when one is on them one sees nothing but mountains and valleys and vast plains of the ordinary type. From this you will see that the higher country is fairly healthy but of course you contract all the complaints getting there.

People often have a very wrong impression of travel in Central Africa. There are no ordinary roads as we know them, no horses, no bullock wagons as in South Africa, but a mere footpath beaten hard by generations of men is the only road. The interior is just a network of these tracks. Every village is connected with some other village, every tribe with its neighbour. A traveller may set his foot on the East Coast, turn his face due west and keep on these paths in the long grass through village after village, month after month until one day he sniffs the sea breeze and find himself on the shores of the Atlantic. These tracks are the same all over Africa. They are veritable footpaths seldom more than a foot in width, rutted into the bed of the forest and beaten hard by centuries of human traffic.

As a rule they are wonderfully direct. They run straight on over mountains and through valleys and yet within this general straightforwardness there is a peculiar indirectness in detail. Although the path runs in a direst line, no 50 yards of it is ever straight. If a stone is encountered no native would ever think of removing it. Why should he? It is easier to walk round it and the next man behind him does the same. He knows that a hundred men are following him. It is not the trouble which he resents. It is the idea that is wanting and it no more occurs to him that he could move that stone for the good of his fellows than try to fly. I have seen a tree felled simply to get a grub off the topmost branch. This tree falling across the path is left there and everyone walks around it . Years after when the white ants have destroyed all traces of the tree the path will still have that bend in it.