G. A. IRWIN by George A. Irwin

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 13, 1907

G. A. IRWIN

By George A. Irwin

From Kimberley to Barotseland Mission, Northwest Rhodesia

G. A. IRWIN

THE evening of February 12, I went to Beaconsfield with Brother Austin. This is a suburb of Kimberley, and the place where the first Seventh-day Adventist church was erected in South Africa. Their church building is a modest-sized structure, well and substantially built, and has a wing in which a church-school has been carried on for some years, being taught by Brother Austin’s oldest daughter. That evening I spoke to them from the map of the world, showing the advancement the message had made since the organization of their church, and the erection of their church building, and exhorted them to hold on faithfully a little longer, for He that shall come will come in this generation, and cut the work short in righteousness.

Wednesday evening, at seven o’clock, W. H. Anderson and I bade farewell to Brother and Sister Willson, and boarded the train for a three-days’ ride to Monze, in Barotseland, two hundred miles north of the Zambezi River.

Our first stop was at Buluwayo, the former capital of Matabeleland. This place has received considerable notoriety in the past from being the center and base of operations during the last Matabeleland uprising, under the leadership of the old king, Lobengula. The town is located on a high and rolling veldt, with an altitude of 4,469 feet above sea-level. The place is laid out on a broad scale, with wide streets running at right angles; and were it reasonably filled with houses and inhabitants, it could easily contain a population of 25,000, but the present population is only 3,840.

Buluwayo is a Zulu word which, literally translated, means, “the place of killing,” a very significant word in view of the fact that near the place, under a tree that is still standing, Mo-sil-i-kat-se and Lobengula dispensed judgment, and many a poor native, who was so unfortunate as to displease either of these great chiefs, lost his life. Buluwayo is the most important railroad center in all southern Rhodesia. All passengers going to Victoria Falls and north of the Zambezi River must change cars here, as must also those going northeast and east to such places as Gwelo, Salisbury, Umtali, and Beira. No public effort has as yet been made in Buluwayo by our people, although the place has been partially canvassed, and a few of our health books sold.

Friday afternoon, Brother Anderson and I left Buluwayo for Victoria Falls, on the Zambezi River, three hundred miles farther north. We arrived at the Falls next morning at 7:30. The train stops for a few minutes at the station on the south side of the river. Near by is a large hotel operated for the accommodation of tourists and others who come to see these famous falls.

Leaving the station, the train, after a few minutes’ run, comes in sight of the falls, and passes over the river on a suspension bridge six hundred feet in length, four hundred and twelve feet above the water, and two hundred yards below the falls, but in plain sight of them. Of this most superb wonder of nature, the pen and camera can give but a faint idea. Only by gazing upon each section and phase of the cataracts, rapids, and immense gorges can one comprehend their marvelous vastness and grandeur.

The river above the falls is approximately one mile wide, and this immense volume of water falls perpendicularly a distance of four hundred and twelve feet before it strikes the whirlpool, or “boiling pot” below. Gigantic columns of vapor continually rise to a great height, which in the distance resemble light-colored smoke or steam. From this vapor and the ceaseless and almost deafening roar of the water, the falls has evidently derived its native name, “Mosi-ao-tunga,” or “the smoke that sounds.” The Arab name for the falls is “Musa-i-nunya,” “the end of the world.” The great peculiarity about these wonderful falls is that the general level of the country is the same both above and below the falls, the water disappearing into a narrow fissure, or canyon, whose precipitous sides rise upward four hundred feet in height. Through this cleft in the plain, which is sometimes less than four hundred feet in width, this vast volume of water is forced a distance of nearly eighty miles. Taken as a whole, Victoria Falls is a great natural phenomenon, and should be classed as one of the great wonders of the world. The place was discovered by Dr. Livingstone, in the year 1855.

Passing on from the falls, our train stopped at Livingstone, a small town on the north bank of the river, five miles above the falls. Livingstone is the most important post-office in Northwest Rhodesia. From here mails are dispatched weekly to the north through Barotseland as far as the railway is finished, and thence by runners to the different districts as far north as the Tanganyika concessions and the limited Kongo Free State.

After two hours of waiting at Livingstone, we boarded a mixed passenger and goods train, which runs semiweekly from this place to Broken Hill, three hundred and sixty miles farther north, as far as the road is at present finished. The general appearance of the country in Northwest Rhodesia is very similar to that in southern Rhodesia, with the exception perhaps, of taller grass, and in some sections larger timber. In many places the grass was so tall, and stood so close to the track, that the wind would blow it against the car window. Just before sunset we reached Kolomo, the capital of Northwest Rhodesia, which is eighty-seven miles from Livingstone. The town is located quite a distance from the railway line, on a beautiful, high plateau, which is five thousand feet above sea-level. The place has a white population of sixty, most of whom are in some way connected with government affairs.

The native commissioner having charge of the district in which Brother Anderson’s mission is located was on the train, returning from a three months’ vacation in Australia. Just before leaving for his vacation he came near losing his life by an attack from a large lion. He had shot and wounded the animal, and was following it up in the jungle. Suddenly he came upon it, and before he could raise his rifle to fire, it sprang upon him, knocking him down, and at the same time knocking the rifle from his hand, and out of reach. As he was falling to the ground, he grabbed the lion by both jaws, and held his mouth open, calling at the same time loudly for his native attendants to come quickly and take his rifle and shoot the lion. The natives succeeded in killing the lion and rescuing their master, but in the encounter he lost two fingers, and his arms and breast were badly lacerated by the claws of the lion. In telling me of the affair he said this was the twelfth one he had killed in the few years he had been in the country, and considered himself fortunate to have gotten off with but one personal encounter.

In shaking hands with me when leaving the train at Kolomo, he expressed the hope that I would be pleased with the country, and on my return to the States would use my influence to send out some more energetic American missionaries, like Mr. Anderson, to teach the natives in his district how to work, live, and dress like civilized people. I find in conversation with these commissioners that they are well pleased with our methods of conducting missions. The industrial feature especially commends itself to them. They say that if the natives can be taught to be even partially industrious, it will assist them very much in their government of them, and in the collection of the hut tax of one pound assessed by the government upon each male person above twelve years of age, and the additional ten shillings they compel the men to pay for each surplus wife.

At 2:30 Sunday morning, February 17, our train stopped and let us off at a siding, eight miles from Brother Anderson’s place, where three of his boys were awaiting us, with a transport wagon, drawn by sixteen oxen. A gentle rain was falling, and the night was very dark. There being no place for us to stay overnight, our only alternative was to start at once for the mission. Brother Anderson and I seated ourselves as best we could upon our luggage under the canvas cover that was over the back

part of the wagon bed, while the principal driver seated himself on the front end, with his long whip in hand, by means of which and an occasional peculiar yell he succeeded in keeping the oxen in their places and guiding the wagon past stumps and rocks. The other two boys went ahead of the oxen, one to lead the head yoke, and the other to carry a light for the double purpose of keeping the team in the dim road, and to frighten away lions and other dangerous animals that roam through this country at night.

At half-past seven we arrived in safety at the mission home, where we received a hearty welcome from the mission boys. During Brother Anderson’s absence at the conference, the heavy rain-storms had washed away one end of his mud house, and demolished the chimney, which had been made of sun-dried bricks. Their cook-stove being useless without either pipe or chimney, our meals had to be cooked in an iron pot over an open fire out of doors. Fortunately, they had plenty of such staple articles of food as milk, eggs, new potatoes, and sweet corn—foods that could all be prepared in a palatable way under such conditions. The damp, chilly, and musty condition of the house was a more serious proposition than the primitive way in which the cooking had to be done, for such conditions are conducive to malaria and fever.

And right here I will take occasion to remark that our Mission Board should make provisions for, and insist upon, our missionaries in such unhealthful countries as Africa, providing themselves with dwelling-houses in which they can be protected from the elements, and be made reasonably comfortable. And this should be the very first thing done in establishing a new mission; for what will a mission amount to, be it ever so well equipped with other necessary buildings, or well supplied with students, if the missionaries are down sick, or so filled with the poison of malaria that they have neither strength, energy, or heart to do anything? In my opinion it is the height of folly, to say the least, to go to the expense of sending missionaries to such places, and then allow or compel them to jeopardize both their lives and health for the lack of the necessary means to build proper houses to protect them from the elements. Even after all is done, and every precaution taken that can be taken, there will still be risk enough for them to run in the malarious atmosphere encountered during one half of each year.