Building The Bridge - 1. Chapter 1 - Gazed on by Angels

“I will go anywhere, provided it be forward” – Dr David Livingstone 1813 - 1873

Despite my many years of exploration on this mighty continent, I am always amazed at how close and oppressive the mid summer heat can become. Having been in the river valley for many days now, I am constantly reminded by Robert that we must hydrate constantly in this weather to avoid the certain detrimental effects of heat exhaustion.

Chuma and Susi my chief attendants have shown me many wonders but it is still the plight of malaria that hinders our progress. I have to admit though, the use of quinine has seemed to slow and even dampen the effect of the illness, and while I have suffered greatly from this African curse, this last bout of illness was not as long lasting as my time in Luanda.

Thankfully the British Consul were well enough equipped at that time to provide much needed medical attention after our hike northwards through the equatorial jungle. It was my insistence on the discovery of this talked of great African waterway that has lead me on this latest excursion, penetrating more into the central basin of the African hinterland.

In addition to my quest to discover this waterway, I am pledged to return the Makololo tribesmen to Chief Sekeletu who has been kind enough to allow me twenty seven of the finest African foot soldiers to accompany me on my explorations. We have seen and achieved much together and I am struck frequently by these men’s mild manner and steadfast loyalty. Yet while meek and careful with each other, these humble companions hide a vicious violence when confronted by foe.

I can only too vividly recall that were it not for these men my own life would have been snuffed out by my misfortune to come face to face with the horrifying might of an adult male African Lion.

It is no wonder that they call these beasts the king of the jungle, and I carry with me every day since the scars and constant ache as a reminder of the might and awesome power of this magnificent creature, as well as the unshakable bravery and loyalty, displayed at great personal risk by these African people who battled the lion from me armed with only spears and loud voices.

It has been one year since our departure from Luanda, and we have reached the Linyanti, a river system running through thick and confusing swampy areas. It would seem to me that vast quantities of water pass through this system however it is certainly not the major waterway of which I have heard so much. The very presence of the swamp would suggest slow meandering water, not suitable for commercial purposes, and so we plan to push on soon.

Our team have recovered well, and once again Chief Sekeletu has come to my rescue with fresh men and supplies to restock our expedition to cross to the Western Coast of the African continent in search of a viable waterway to stimulate trade with the central regions of this vast expanse of wilderness.

The vegetation is thick and difficult to cross at this stage and I am therefore forced to take to our canoes and follow the course of this river and see where it may lead. The constant threat from crocodile has made us wary of these waters and we are vigilant and on guard against attack from these stealthy, silent predators.

Vast numbers of buffalo are present at every turn, and we have met elephant herds in fair quantity. Deer are plentiful on savannah plains, and seem to know how to stick to dry land. It has been a consideration of mine to perhaps follow them to increase our speed by resorting to firmer surfaces instead of meandering through these river concourses, however it would be fool hardy to imagine that we could keep pace with these creatures, or expect them to await our readiness at the rise of the sun each day.

The range of flora and fauna is too extensive to imagine and I would propose returning here at a later date to spend more time researching and documenting the habitat more closely. However for now my primary goal is to complete this transcontinental journey across the African heartland and find this water system.

It is mid November now and the water levels are low as the dry season has kicked in. I suppose that this is part of the reason for the slow pace of the Linyati River, but I am encouraged as our journey progresses. We have met herders who have described a river confluence ahead where this river joins with what could be the Zambezi River. I am hoping that this fact is realised as we adventure further west.

We pass through mangroves of acacia trees thickly hung with bushy green vines which I have detailed fully in my vegetation journal. I have also managed to spend much time this trip examining the variety of fish species I have encountered through both rod with a line and hook and in an array of trapping methods the native population have demonstrated to me. Alas my nets by this stage are too deteriorated to be of any practical use other than to keep our goods and supplies safely tethered to our canoes.

God has blessed me with the greatest fortune of witnessing some of the most amazing sights on this voyage. I have never seen such large groupings of antelope, and this concentration of prey has brought to our attention a plethora of predators the likes I have not yet seen. I have witnessed the glory of large prides of Lion and the lone Cheetah in action in broad daylight on the dry ground among the swamps. At night we are privy to the unmistakable ghoulish laugh of the hyena. I have also become aware of a species of dog as yet unknown to me. It travels in packs and I am unable at this time to observe the beast in any great detail as it remains incredibly shy and reserved.

The Linyati has along our journey merged into the Chobe river. In actual fact I am not so sure there is a difference between these rivers, but the locals seem to use both names intermittently to mean either one or other. It is highly possible that these two rivers are indeed a part of the same river system and I am never completely sure if we are still on the Linyati or the Chobe. As we progress further downstream however, the tendency is more inclined to calling the water the Chobe River, and there is yet more talk of a mighty river that I am sure is the Zambezi River. The prospect of rediscovering this southerly passage of the river I discovered earlier on my explorations of the Congo region thrills me at this point as it will further strengthen my suspicion of a major waterway through the central African region.

On the tenth we reached a village the locals call Kalai which lies of the confluence of two rivers. I am much excited by this development as one of these rivers I am certain is indeed the mighty Zambezi. Swirling nigh on a mile wide it is fast flowing and maintains a dark emerald green quality of colour.

There are many hippos residing in the slower waters of the Chobe River and we almost experienced disaster when one of the canoes came upon a mother and its pup as they were feeding in the shallow waters. Had it not been for the swift actions of Chuma who was piloting the vessel at the time, I am certain we would have lost the canoe, its contents and two of my most trusted companions on this journey so far. I am grateful for the continued protection of our Lord and protector.

We have camped two days at the village, mainly to rest and recuperate, replenish supplies and minister with the local folk. I have had many interesting conversations with these villagers. They are very spiritual folk, of simple existence as is common with these beautiful people and present as a loyal family unit entwined into this lovingly close village community I have become accustomed to finding among the African tribes.

They listen politely to my evangelistic ministries, and nod their head appreciatively when I explain that our God watches over them, but they are not so easily convinced that my God is the same as their God. I ponder deeply in this village as I have done frequently along my travels at how it came to be that these people could be so punished and defiled by the masters of slavery. Bought and sold like meat in a market I am continuously horrified that these amazingly industrious and genuine people should have been so horribly treated.

I am resolved to continue with my objection to slavery and continue to fight to see this barbaric trade abolished in the name of Queen and Empire. That we can treat another human in such a manner in this day and age is beyond my scope of understanding.

My curiosity is inspired by a feature, a ‘God’ that the locals refer to as “Mosi-o-Tunya” an African dialect translating into “The Smoke That Thunders.” It is apparently a distance down stream and rumoured to be a place of a mighty roar, and a smoke that fills the air daily as the Gods shake the earth and swallow the mighty river I see before me.

I am sure there must be a logical explanation for this. As a Godly man I fear not these spirits of men, and cannot imagine that a whole river can be swallowed in such a manner. But my interest is peaked and this is something that I will have to explore further in the days ahead. I am proposing that we follow this river for a while and have agreed for two locals to accompany us as they possess accurate knowledge of the river and its dangers.

I have also managed to spend some more time exploring the various creatures and vegetation surrounding the area of the village.

One such species of fish has been a marvel to discover. It is not easy to catch and very often shreds the line I use to catch my quarry upon its strike. It seems to prefer the faster flowing waters of the Zambezi River, and whenever I have cast out with fresh bait into these waters, it is not long before I am presented with a tremendous snatch on my line. It is a powerful monster, and has a tendency to spring out of the water in surprise as you strike against its bite. While some of the fiends have been considerable in size and far too heavy to land against my humble line, I have also had to battle against teeth unlike any I have ever seen on a fish. However I have been rather lucky to land two of these veracious devils of the deep.

They are spectacular to behold. Rippled in vibrant colours, bight silver at the base they carry blue and yellow stripes almost as you would imagine finding on a mighty tiger, they are sleek and streamlined, perfectly lined for speed and power in these waters. These brutes are armed a menagerie of spear like teeth scattered along their jaw both top and bottom alike, snapping in vicious regularity at anything that comes near them.

The locals have been astonished that I should catch such a wicked looking beast and promptly insisted that I should return the demons to the deep to avoid upsetting the spirits. Reluctantly I have complied to maintain the peace, but not before fully detailing a description of the creature in my fauna journal.

Tomorrow is the 15^th November 1855 and I set off to explore the river I believe to be the Zambezi and establish for myself what it is that creates this smoke that thunders. My excitement churns within me at fever point. All is prepared for this excursion, I am quite sure that tonight I will never manage to rest successfully. May God bless our endeavours tomorrow and fully protect and keep us as we venture yet again into the great unknown.

Extract from the Diaries of Dr David Livingstone.

"After twenty minutes' sail from Kalai we came in sight, for the first time, of the columns of vapour appropriately called 'smoke,' rising at a distance of five or six miles, exactly as when large tracts of grass are burned in Africa. Five columns now arose, and, bending in the direction of the wind, they seemed placed against a low ridge covered with trees; the tops of the columns at this distance appeared to mingle with the clouds. They were white below, and higher up became dark, so as to simulate smoke very closely. The whole scene was extremely beautiful; the banks and islands dotted over the river are adorned with sylvan vegetation of great variety of colour and form…no one can imagine the beauty of the view from any thing witnessed in England. It had never been seen before by European eyes; but scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight. The only want felt is that of mountains in the background. The falls are bounded on three sides by ridges 300 or 400 feet in height, which are covered with forest, with the red soil appearing among the trees.

When about half a mile from the falls, I left the canoe by which we had come down thus far, and embarked in a lighter one, with men well acquainted with the rapids, who, by passing down the centre of the stream in the eddies and still places caused by many jutting rocks, brought me to an island situated in the middle of the river, and on the edge of the lip over which the water rolls. In coming hither there was danger of being swept down by the streams which rushed along on each side of the island; but the river was now low, and we sailed where it is totally impossible to go when the water is high. But, though we had reached the island, and were within a few yards of the spot, a view from which would solve the whole problem, I believe that no one could perceive where the vast body of water went; it seemed to lose itself in the earth, the opposite lip of the fissure into which it disappeared being only 80 feet distant. At least I did not comprehend it until, creeping with awe to the verge, I peered down into a large rent which had been made from bank to bank of the broad Zambezi, and saw that a stream of a thousand yards broad leaped down a hundred feet, and then became suddenly compressed into a space of fifteen or twenty yards.

The entire falls are simply a crack made in a hard basaltic rock from the right to the left bank of the Zambezi, and then prolonged from the left bank away through thirty or forty miles of hills. If one imagines the Thames filled with low, tree-covered hills immediately beyond the tunnel, extending as far as Gravesend, the bed of black basaltic rock instead of London mud, and a fissure made therein from one end of the tunnel to the other down through the keystones of the arch, and prolonged from the left end of the tunnel through thirty miles of hills, the pathway being 100 feet down from the bed of the river instead of what it is, with the lips of the fissure from 80 to 100 feet apart, then fancy the Thames leaping bodily into the gulf, and forced there to change its direction, and flow from the right to the left bank, and then rush boiling and roaring through the hills, he may have some idea of what takes place at this, the most wonderful sight I had witnessed in Africa.

In looking down into the fissure on the right of the island, one sees nothing but a dense white cloud, which, at the time we visited the spot, bad two bright rainbows on it. From this cloud rushed up a great jet of vapour exactly like steam, and it mounted 200 or 300 feet high; there condensing, it changed its hue to that of dark smoke, and came back in a constant shower, which soon wetted us to the skin…

On the left of the island we see the water at the bottom, a white rolling mass moving away to the prolongation of the fissure, which branches off near the left bank of the river… The walls of this gigantic crack are perpendicular, and composed of one homogeneous mass of rock. The edge of that side over which the water falls is worn off two or three feet, and pieces have fallen away, so as to give it some- what of a serrated appearance. That over which the water does not fall is quite straight, except at the left corner, where a rent appears, and a piece seems inclined to fall off Upon the whole, it is nearly in the state in which it was left at the period of its formation…On the left side of the island we have a good view of the mass of water which causes one of the columns of vapour to ascend, as it leaps quite clear of the rock, and forms a thick unbroken fleece all the way to the bottom. Its whiteness gave the idea of snow, a sight I had not seen for many a day. As it broke into (if I may use the term) pieces of water, all rushing on in the same direction, each gave off several rays of foam, exactly as bits of steel, when burned in oxygen gas, give off rays of sparks. The snow-white sheet seemed like myriads of small comets rushing on in one direction, each of which left behind its nucleus rays of foam."

Livingstone, David - 1813-73,

Scottish missionary and explorer in Africa, the first European to cross the African continent.

From 1841 to 1852, while a medical missionary for the London Missionary Society in what is now Botswana, he crossed the Kalahari desert and reached (1849) Lake Ngami. He discovered the Zambezi River in 1851. Hoping to abolish the slave trade by opening Africa to Christian commerce and missionary stations, he travelled (1853) to Luanda on the west coast.

Following the Zambezi River, he discovered and named Victoria Falls (1855) and reached the east coast at Quelimane, Portuguese East Africa (now Mozambique), in 1856. His Missionary Travels (1857) in South Africa is an account of that journey. Appointed British consul at Quelimane, he was given command of an expedition (1857-63) to explore the Zambezi region.

Livingstone returned to England (1864) and with his brother Charles wrote The Zambezi and Its Tributaries (1865).

In 1866 he returned to Africa to seek the source of the Nile. He discovered lakes Mweru and Bangweula and in 1871 reached the Lualaba tributary of the Congo River. Sickness compelled his return to Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika, where the journalist H. M. Stanley found him in 1871. Unable to persuade Livingstone to leave, Stanley joined him on a journey (1871-72) to the north end of Lake Tanganyika.

In 1873 Livingstone died in the village of Chief Chitambo. African followers carried his body to the coast; it was sent to England and buried in Westminster Abbey. Livingstone's last journals were edited by Horace Waller (1874).