The
earth for a mile or so is trampled by thousands of Masai cattle that at
certain seasons pass through the funnel of this, the only ford for
miles. Apparently insignificant, it is given to sudden, tremendous
rises. These originate in the rainfalls of the upper Mau Escarpment,
many miles away. It behooves the safari to cross promptly if it can,
and to camp always on the farther bank.
This we did, pitching our tents in a little opening, between clumps of
pretty flowering aloes and the mimosas. Here, as everywhere in this
country, until we had passed the barrier of the Narossara mountains, the
common horseflies were a plague. They follow the Masai cattle. I can
give you no better idea of their numbers than to tell you two isolated
facts: I killed twenty-one at one blow; and in the morning, before
sunrise, the apex of our tent held a solid black mass of the creatures
running the length of the ridge pole, and from half an inch to two
inches deep! Every pack was black with them on the march, and the wagon
carried its millions. When the shadow of a branch would cross that
slowly lumbering vehicle, the swarm would rise and bumble around
distractedly for a moment before settling down again. They fairly made a
nimbus of darkness.
After we had made camp we saw a number of Masai warriors hovering about
the opposite bank, but they did not venture across. Some of their women
did, however, and came cheerily into camp.
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