ABSTRACT
MY introduction to the Unika took place on September ist, 1863. The first part of the journey-was by boat, up the creek, from Mombasa, to the village of Makerunge. It is all as fresh to my memory as if it had happened only yesterday. The boat we had hired for the purpose was the ordinary heavy, ungainly dau la mbao (planked boat), of native build, Descending the cliff, at 11 a.m., we took our seat in the craft, and pushed off. We were bound for an unknown land; and to me all was novel and intensely interesting. Presently we were in the centre of the creek, where we got a good view of the town of Mombasa and the surroundings. The fort, the custom house, our own residence, that of the missionaries of the Church Missionary Society, and two or three mosques, are the chief buildings ; all else that could be seen were makuti (palm-leaf) thatched cottages, with low walls of brown and red clay. Palms towered everywhere over all. Beyond the fort stretched the boundless sea, but on every other side we were surrounded by the wall-like cliff of the island and mainland, all covered above with the richest vegetation. The sun, being almost vertical, shone with truly tropical splendour, pouring his beams upon us most mercilessly, and flooding the atmosphere with almost blinding light. The broad waters of the harbour danced gleefully, and a thousand wavelets, like mirrors, flashed back the light. The breeze filled our sail, and, heavy as our boat was, she made her way at good speed through the waters. At Kisauni the creek turns to the left, and then another and truly charming scene comes into view. Having turned the corner, you find yourself on what appears to be a beautiful lake, surrounded by high banks, clad in brilliant verdure. There are mangoes, with their impenetrable masses of broad, dark shining leaves; creepers hanging in rich festoons from other trees; and palm trees waving their plumes above all. The water is as clear as crystal, now rippled by a gentle breeze, and now, sheltered by the bank, as smooth as glass. A profound silence prevails, nothing being heard but the merry chirping of birds on either hand, the murmuring of the water at the boat’s prow, or the sound, when we venture to speak, of our own voices. Pursuing our course, we entered upon another lake-like scene, quite as pretty as the first, and next found ourselves upon the broad waters of the basin, at the north of the island, called by Captain Owen, Port Tudor. It is from two to three miles broad, shallow in some parts, but, in others, as many as fifteen fathoms deep. In the centre is the Kisiwa cha pania (isle of rats), a mere heap of stones, with a clump of mangrove on the top, said to be the abode of swarms of rats. The channel flows to the west of this green spot, the other side being left quite bare when the tide is lowest. The creek now divides itself into three parts, the one we are to follow running in a northerly direction to Makerunge, another in a north-westerly course up to the district of Rabai, and the third to the south-west toward Duruma.
