Crossing Africa by Motorboat

From Great North Road

By: Roger Daniel

In 1911, three years after his epic drive across Africa by motorcar, Paul Graetz and the French cinematographer Octave Fière set out again for Africa. They wanted to cross the continent by motorboat. Starting at the Zambezi estuary, they went up Shire River, reached Lake Nyasa and continued up to Karonga, the northernmost port of Nyasaland. Their planned travel destination was the Congo estuary at the Atlantic Ocean.

Their boat had been christened Sarotti after the main sponsor, a chocolate manufacturer. She was made of oak planks, had the shape of a surf-boat, measured 8.20 m in length, was 1.65 m wide, and had 0.30 m draught. The 5 HP single-cylinder petrol engine had to be preheated with a soldering lamp for starting, and under favourable conditions she could make 15 km per hour. At the outside of the hull planking, about midships, two pivots were bolted to which spoked wheels could be mounted when the boat had to be moved overland.

This article covers the part of the journey through Northern Rhodesia.

Map.

The Continental Divide

Lake Nyasa has an altitude of 500 m above sea level. At Karonga the boat was taken ashore and the wheels were assembled. On 24th of June 1911 the expedition left Karonga, heading for the watershed way up on the high altitude plateau. 40 porters had been hired to carry loads, another 40 to move the boat. They were a mixed lot of Ngoni, Wahenge and Wakonde tribesmen. Up to the foothills of the escarpment the road rose gently. Then they followed the fast-flowing Rukuru River. It arises at Vipya Mountains on the Central Plateau, a massif towering a thousand meters above the lake. It was dry season, and the water of the Rukuru was about knee-deep, not enough to float the Sarotti. The party proceeded along the rocky serpentines of the so-called Stevenson Road.

The scenery was spectacular, but the ascent to the high plateau turned out to be a nightmare. The twisty road was not even fit for carts; let alone an 8.20 m long boat. Quite a few of the bends were very sharp and their negotiation involved man-handling above dizzying abysms. Protruding rocks had to be removed by pickaxe, and cracks had to be filled. Then the road fizzled out altogether. The caravan followed a dried-up torrent where they had to battle against a mess of boulders and steep banks. If they were lucky they made a mile per day. It took them two weeks to reach the high plateau. Up there they proceeded over undulating terrain to Fort Hill (now Chitipa), the border between Nyasaland and Northern Rhodesia.

Northern Rhodesia was infested with sleeping sickness. To contain the disease, local people were not allowed to cross the border. But there were carriers from the Iwa tribe waiting for them in Fort Hill, they had been sent by the magistrate in Fife. Fife (today Tunduma) was the administration centre of the North West. The area around the Stevenson Road had been disputed by Germany. To quote Mrs. Tawse-Jolie, author of the Catalogue: A question as to the boundary between the British and German spheres was pending in 1890, and it looked as if the Stevenson Road would go to the latter. Rhodes had a couple of "Forts" run up on the road and named them "Fife" and "Abercorn," saying "They'll never cede places called after relatives of the royal family." And, apparently, he was right.

On their way to Fife they pitched camp outside Wita village on the foot of Mount Nyimbo. They had reached the watershed. Up to that point all rivers and streams they had crossed flowed in an easterly direction to Lake Nyasa and eventually would empty into the Indian Ocean. Somewhere in these hills ahead of them arises Chambeshi River at an elevation of 1,760 m. It tumbles downhill and enters Chambeshi Flats, a vast river catchment area with grasslands and lush forests. On its way it collects dozens of other streams and rivers, some of them even larger in terms of flow than the Chambeshi itself. It leaves the flats as an impressive river, but before long it loses that proud appearance, gets lost in the bewildering labyrinth of the Bangweulu wetlands, enters the lake and leaves it as Luapula River, only to be absorbed again by a large swamp area shortly afterwards. When it consolidates as a distinct river, it takes a wide swing and turns north. After having descended over miles of waterfalls and rapids it discharges into Lake Mweru from where it emerges as Luvua River. It hurries down from the plateau into the Congo Basin where it joins Lualaba River. Continuing north through dense rain forest it makes another steep descent at Stanley Falls. From there on it is called Congo, flowing sluggishly in a westerly direction to the Atlantic Ocean. From the hills just south of Lake Tanganyika to the Atlantic estuary mouth, this mighty river of many names covers a distance of 4.374 km. And that was the route lying ahead of them.

Their imminent problem now was to get to Chambeshi River. They had been told that the only possible way was to follow Stevenson Road via Fife, and then take the track to Kasama. However, that was a distance of 150 miles, whereas the straight line to the confluence of Karungu and Chozi River was only 50 miles. The Chozi was said to carry abundant water. But, he was told, there was no road at all, not even a path. Graetz figured that no road couldn't be worse than Stevenson Road. They took the short cut.

Chambeshi Flats

After two days they reached Karungu River (sometimes spelled Kalungu). It was July and the riverbed was dry, so they had to clear a path through thick bush. After having crossed several tributaries of the Karungu they noticed that the river carried enough water to launch the Sarotti. But shrubs, creepers, reed, huge rocks and rapids made travelling by boat even more laborious than bushwhacking along the bank. In Chunga District, right in the middle of nowhere, they came to a cattle farm which was run by a Mr. J.E. Goddard. There is a photo showing them sitting on the porch, Goddard in casual bundu wear, Graetz and Fière in suite and tie. They looked a bit overdressed in that wild solitude. Being an ardent hunter, Goddard had displayed his trophies, mainly the horns of kudu, hartebeest, waterbuck, also skins of leopard and crocodile. 8 shining rifles were leaning on the wall.

On 25th July they reached Chozi River. It had taken them 34 days to overcome the watershed and reach navigable waters. After the confluence the Karungu had a width of about 12 m and enough depth. The boat was launched. However, being hampered by fallen down trees, reed, shallows and fish traps they made slow progress. They rowed, occasionally they were punting. The loads were carried by a long caravan of some 80 porters who were faster than the boat. After four days the river opened to a width of 40 m, they started the engine. But soon the Karungu fanned out into a number of shallow arms and they were back to punting. Night had fallen as they found their way out of that maze and saw the Chambeshi in bright moonlight. The expedition had reached an important milestone on their journey; from here they hoped to go all the way to the Atlantic by boat.

At the confluence of Karungu and Chambeshi they set up camp and stayed for 4 weeks. The petrol which the African Lakes Corporation was supposed to deliver to this spot had not yet arrived. Forty porters were sent back to Fife. A pole and grass house was built to serve as a photo lab. Octave Fière developed 700 m of exposed film at night, in daytime he made movie shots of the wild life, mainly zebra, hartebeest, impala, eland. Film equipment was rather bulky in those days, it made stalking extremely difficult. Graetz went hunting, there were dozens of porters to be fed, so they depended on game. Visitors from far away villages came to see the motor boat, and to barter sorghum for fishing hooks, tobacco and matches. At last the petrol arrived. Film material and lab equipment were meticulously wrapped, sealed and packed. Early in the morning of 28th August they boarded the boat, Paul Graetz, Octace Fière, James the cook, their servant Jeremias, the gang leader One-Eye, and five Bembas who had some knowledge of the river and the surrounding area. As it turned out they knew the exact location of fish traps and the land route in between, but none of them had ever travelled a longer piece of the river itself. The maps were not much of a help, either. The Chambeshi was known to have its source in the hills south of Lake Tanganyika, then flow south for about 500 km and enter the vast wetland area of the Bangweulu basin. However, the exact course of the river had not yet been surveyed, on the maps it was marked for the most part as a broken line.

By now the river was 50 m wide and several meters deep, the current was moderate, their cruising speed was 15 km per hour. It was the time the foliage of deciduous trees changed colour, the sky displayed a deep blue. It was just perfect, no rocks no shallows. The head of a hippo appeared on the surface. The Bembas were alarmed, but Graetz was in a rollicking mood and went straight for it. He honestly believed that a hippo could never harm the heavily loaded Sarotti. Luckily the hippo dived away. Next day the river was not so inviting. The water surface was covered by grass und water lilies, huge rocks were hidden just one foot below water level. The boat had to be unloaded and carefully dragged over sandbanks and rocks. Then the river was funnelled through a narrow gorge. The engine had been switched off and they mustered all their strength to steer the boat clear off boulders and the rocky riverbank. Late in the afternoon the river opened and the current was gentle. Fière shot a puku antelope. They were exhausted, so they pitched camp. It was an uneasy night, a pride of lions was moving around the camp, and a big fire had to be feed all night long. At dawn they got into the boat. It was September 3rd. There was no village nearby; the geographical position was about 10°03' S, 32°15' E. The surroundings were irregular flood plains interspersed with patches of swamp.

The river was rather shallow and the bank was not clearly defined, at some places it merged into shrubby wetlands. As they got stuck they suddenly saw three buffaloes right in front of them. Graetz shot at the nearest one. It was hit, tumbled, then struggled to its feet and disappeared with the others in the badly arranged terrain. A minute later they saw two buffaloes trotting away in the distance, so the wounded animal was somewhere around. Cautiously they followed the blood trail. Suddenly they hear the buffalo stamp angrily, they just caught a glimpse of it, then it disappeared in the high grass and the trail went cold. They returned to the river and prepared a meal. Just after having finished their puku steak the cook was shouting that the buffalo had been found. Graetz and Fière took their rifles and carefully advanced to the place the cook had indicated. And then the buffalo stormed out of the thick grass charging at Graetz who just managed to fire a shot at the raging beast. To avoid the clash, Graetz jumped to the side, tripped, and the buffalo bent down to gore him. Out of sheer desperation Graetz grabbed the horns and held on. Tossing his head violently the buffalo tried to shake him off, and with a sudden jerk of his head it rammed a horn into Graetz's jaw. He passed out and was flung into the high grass. Now Fière shot the buffalo into the head. The buffalo gored Fière three times before it dropped dead.

Weeks later the Magistrate in Kasama investigated the case and the Bemba crew stated that Octave Fière was standing very close, with his gun at the ready. Apparently the struggle between Graetz and the buffalo was so tumultuous that he could not shoot without risking hurting Graetz.

Graetz woke up as the Bembas put him in the boat. He couldn't speak, with sign language he asked for Fière. Terribly wounded, but they were bringing him right now, he was told. And the buffalo? Dead! Graetz bled badly. He asked for a mirror and the medical chest. His right cheek was an irregularly torn hole as big as a fist. The jaw was broken twice, the gum peeled off, the tongue had been torn and displaced, he spat teeth and bone fragments. If I do not act fast, he thought, I will bleed to death. So he took the curved needle and with eight stitches he sewed his face together. In the meantime they had brought Fière. On regaining consciousness he murmured "Très mauvais!" His left chest had been ripped open, but heart and lungs were not hurt. The abdomen was torn, and there was a nasty wound at the thigh. To stop bleeding Graetz stitched the wounds together.

James the cook had enough presence of mind to send a runner to Kasama to inform the British magistrate of what had happened.

Fière slept and breathed regularly, but for Graetz it was a long night with acute pain. Just before dawn he had a short sleep. As he woke up he saw that Fière was dead. The body was washed, dressed and carried by fast march in a mashilla to Kasama. Graetz wanted his friend to be buried in the consecrated soil of a church. James was of great help, he had learned to read and write at a mission school. Since Graetz could not speak he jotted his orders down, James read and saw to it that everything was done to the letter. Graetz was in a bad state. Nerves were exposed and rubbed along the sharp edge of bone fragments. The tongue was swollen. With the oil funnel James let liquid food trickle down his sore throat. His face was so badly swollen that he could open his eyes only with the help of his fingers. The left side of his body was black and blue and his knee and hip joints were swollen. Three days they desperately tried to find carriers. On 6th September he was lifted into a makeshift mashilla and carried to Kasama. Graetz wrote that it was his worst trip ever. The slightest touch, the roughness of the path, or when the carriers shifted the pole from one shoulder to another – it was pain. Next day the mashilla suddenly came to a halt. Graetz groaned. Then he saw two askaris with rifles. A young Englishman bent down and took his hand. It was Dr. Randall, followed by District Commissioner Cookson. They had been marching day and night. Now Graetz was put into a proper mashilla which was carried by trained people to Tombwe, the nearest Bemba village. The doctor removed the bandage and treated the wound. On 09th September the party reached Chasenamo. It was here that the District Commissioner had met that group carrying Octave Fière. The DC had given order to bury the decaying body immediately. Just outside the village a grave had been dug, covered with a pile of stones and palisaded with poles.

On 11th September they reached Kasama, one week after the hunting accident. Next day Dr. Randall began to operate without anaesthesia. Overwhelmed by pain Graetz fell into a spasm and his body went totally numb. Life had to be massaged back into him. They tried again a day later. Mr. Ross, a Kasama trader, received a crash course in anaesthesia with chloroform, and he did a good job. Dr. Randall removed teeth and fragments of bones, and attempted to get the pieces of jaw into the proper position. The result was not satisfactory; the lower jaw did not match the upper jaw. As Graetz woke up, he did not like what he saw. He put his belt around skull and chin and tightened it, thereby forcing the jaw in a position he liked better. But with that result the surgeon was not happy. He insisted to wait for the doctor from Abercorn. A runner was sent.

Because of that liquid food diet Graetz was merely skin and bones. Every day Graetz made exercise walks. On the morning of October 1st he managed the 2 miles to the barracks which had been established recently. There he met Major Hodson who had been the first European to welcome Graetz on reaching Livingstone by car three years ago. On October 3rd the runner returned. The Abercorn doctor was somewhere near the Congo border where he was fighting the devastating sleeping sickness epidemic. Nobody knew when he would be back. Just on his own Dr. Randall could not break the maxillary fracture again and rearrange the jaw.

It was the end of the dry season and the water level of Chambeshi River was falling. Before being carried to Kasama, Graetz had given orders to row the Sarotti down to Kitondo's village, the place where 3 years ago Graetz had built the raft to ferry the car across Chambeshi River, on his way from Dar es Salaam to Swakopmund. Constructing and testing the raft had taken a week and in that time a mutual respect and liking had developed between Chief Kitondo and Graetz. He was sure that boat and crew would be safe at Kitondo's place. But the trip down the river was risky. It was an unknown piece of river with sandbanks and rocks and now, at the end of the dry season, the Chambeshi was running shallow. Graetz had put One-Eye in charge, the Bemba who had joined the expedition at the Karunga / Chambeshi confluence. This man had lost his left eye as he had been hunting a leopard a few years earlier. Graetz had examined the scar and asked whether he would like to have a new eye. The one-eyed man thought that he was made fun of and he jokingly said yes. Graetz had a collection of glass eyes in his luggage, heaven knows what for. He selected a suitable one and placed it under the lids. It fitted perfectly and the colour was matching. The villagers had been watching in awe. Then they wanted to know if he could see with that new eye. Whether One-Eye was a prankster or just showing off we'll never know. Anyhow, he covered his proper eye, looked around and said he could see perfectly well with that new eye. Graetz hired him on the spot and One-Eye turned out to be reliable and very resourceful. His real name was Mulenga, but Graetz always referred to him as One-Eye. And now Mr. One-Eye was acting captain. He had taken the boat safely down the Chambeshi, arrived after 2 ½ weeks at Katonde's village, and sent a runner up to Kasama to report "mission accomplished".

On 14th October Graetz left Kasama, together with a guide and some porters. They did not follow the normal Mpika route but walked over Kabongolo Hills. It was a detour, but Graetz wanted to walk along that part of Chambeshi River which One-Eye had negotiated by boat. They reached the river at a small village called Pamombefumu, today's Mulema. Tracts of miombo forest were relieved by occasional open grassy depressions which provided good grazing for a profusion of game. Graetz had no luck in hunting, he had to get used to shooting with his left hand since his right jaw couldn't bear the recoil of a rifle. Two days they walked along the river, and then they reached the boat which One-Eye had anchored at exactly the spot where Graetz had crossed the river in 1908.

Meanwhile the level of the river was rapidly falling. The boat was unloaded and 25 porters carried the loads on a foot path along the river. Next day they reached the place where the new Mpika track touched the Chambeshi. All caravans going to or coming from Kasama passed this spot. Because it was an excellent trading place Kitondo had moved his village to here. Kitondo and the villagers had been waiting for Graetz and his party; they gave them an overwhelming welcome. The following day they had to get past Safwa Rapids. Kitondo had already prepared a log way and about fifty people pulled and carried the boat along. From there right down to the confluence of Lukulu River, Chief Kitondo had posted helpers. Wherever rocks or shallows obstructed the passage helpers were waiting to get the boat into navigable water. When they prepared camp, villagers appeared out of nowhere, offering millet, chicken and eggs. Sometimes Kitondo himself came to see that the journey was going smoothly. Walking along the track was faster than going by boat; even the porters with their loads were faster than the Sarotti. They reached the confluence of Mansha River where the new track crossed the Chambeshi. The Mansha drains the hills of Walya Ulungu, it carries plenty of water. From here on the Chambeshi is a mighty river, 150 to 200 m wide. None of the Bembas had ever travelled further down river.

Lake Bangweulu

On 24th October they reached the confluence of Mununshi River and the village of Chief Kassesse (today: Munyanga). It is situated on a small hill. During rainy season Lake Bangweulu extends to this region and the hill becomes an island. Everything was loaded into the boat. The porters were paid and they returned to their villages. From here on Graetz and his crew were on their own. "We are under the spell of Lake Bangweulu," he noted in his diary.

The Chambeshi flowed gently along dense forest on the right and sparse flood plains on the left. When travelling mid river there was ample depth and only occasionally some floating vegetation got caught in the propeller. They made about 7 miles per hour. Towards evening the vegetation pattern changed dramatically. The river branched into several arms which in turn fanned out in winding streams. Land merged into smaller and smaller islands with narrowing waterways until there was only a vast expense of swamp. In the distance they saw some trees and huts. It was the area of the western Bisa tribe. They were friendly people, but due to the nature of the environment they were not as efficiently organised as the Bemba were. Luckily Graetz could hire somebody who guided them through that maze of channels and lagoons to the next settlement. Navigation became a problem. Thick papyrus reed obstructed visibility. Channels were crisscrossing the bleak swampland, most of them just wide enough for dugout canoes. The Chambeshi had turned into a veritable Styx. Sometimes even the guides got lost in this maze. Often the water was too shallow for the Sarotti. Then the load had to be transferred to canoes, the mire under keel had to be cut and the boat was dragged along – a toilsome way of making progress. There was no more land to camp on. After several days of hard punting they reached Kawena, a Bisa village. Graetz repaired the propeller. Continuing in the direction pointed by the villagers, a river branch opened. Excitedly they followed this wonderful waterway which turned out to be the estuary. And then they saw the immense surface of Lake Bangweulu glittering in bright moonlight.

In the dead of the night they approached Kapofu, a Bisa village on Chilubi Island. Everybody was awake and waiting at the shore. They had heard the motorboat rattling from far away, a noise they had never heard before. Chief Manambulu invited them to pitch their tent in the village. The following morning the lake was packed with canoes. They all wanted to see the Sarotti in motion – and they wanted a race. Graetz had barely started the engine when they were already shooting ahead. It was a big regatta, but once the Sarotti had gathered momentum the canoes had no chance, 15 km/h was too much for them. Graetz turned north; he wanted to circumnavigate the island. They passed a number of villages. On their way they stopped at Santa Maria, a mission station of the White Fathers on the east side of Chilubi Island. Graetz cruised large parts of the lake. At the western shore he visited St. Joseph, another station of the White Fathers.

They set up camp and built a hut which served as darkroom to develop the film material which had accumulated. The missionaries and the lake fishermen told him that it is not possible to cross the swamps between the lake and Luapula River. The swamp dwellers south of the lake were said to be extremely hostile to Europeans. They were known as Ba-Twa, Wild Men, doggedly refusing to pay the poll tax. Askaris which had been sent to enforce payment were overpowered, disarmed and made fun of. The stories about them were so bloodcurdling that Graetz decided to drag the boat for 70 miles to the Luapula. Since most men worked in Congolese mines, Graetz began his overland venture with 20 men and 50 women. The higher ground between Lake Bangweulu and the Luapula in the West was not particularly difficult to cross; they only had to follow a well-known track through miombo woodlands intersected by numerous dambos. It took them three days to cover one and a half miles. Soon the women complained about aching muscles, about the food, about the heat... Graetz gave up; he returned to the lake, rather face those dreaded swamp people than creeping overland with a bunch of bickering women.

Near Samfya the Sarotti was launched again, it is one of the few places where the Bangweulu has a well defined shore. The Bangweulu catchment area is vast, about the size of England. 17 major rivers discharge their floods into the lake, but it is shallow for most of the water is lost by evaporation. The lake is surrounded by smaller lakes, lagoons, swamps and flood plains which act as a check to the annual flooding, releasing the water masses slowly through that system of innumerable channels and lagoons. The lush vegetation is home for myriads of waterbirds, hippos, crocs and a great variety of game.

Luapula River

Graetz was heading for Panta Point (today: Mpata), a Bisa village on an unimpressive elevation at the southern coast of the lake. As they turned into the Luapula, the only outlet of the lake, they were actually leaving Northern Rhodesia. For its full length of 560 km this river formed the border between Northern Rhodesia and the Congo.

The eastern border of Katanga is a straight line running in an exact south-northerly direction, very close to the line of 30° longitude. Today the most northern limit of that line is Tshongola. In 1911, however, that straight borderline line extended right up to Lake Bangweulu, providing a narrow corridor to give the Belgians access to Lake Bangweulu. The Belgian King Leopold II had insisted on having access to the Lake. He supported his claim by the fact that the Bangweulu catchment area discharged into the Luapula and thus was part of the Congo Basin, which is correct when looking at it from a purely geographical point of view. But his real motive, it was said, were the immense fishery of the lake and the game-rich flood plains. The Congo-Rhodesia Border was defined by the agreement of 12 May 1894 as follows: "… It shall then (i.e. from Lake Mweru) follow the thalweg of the Luapula up to its issue from Lake Bangweulu. Thence it shall run southwards along the meridian of Longitude of the point where the river leaves the lake to the watershed between the Congo and the Zambezi which it shall follow until it reaches the Portuguese frontier…" It was generally understood that the Luapula discharged from Lake Bangweulu at Point Panta, but way back in 1894 no European had ever travelled the region in dispute and the existing maps were inaccurate. As it turned out later, this corridor was a useless piece of almost impenetrable swamp and Graetz was probably the first white man to negotiate it. He must have crossed the border many times on his way downriver, but nobody cared, because the first border post lay weeks ahead. By the way, today's Great North Road almost touches the southernmost tip of that straight Zambian-Congolese border line and from there up to Tunduma the GNR follows the continental divide between the Congo River drainage, which flows to the Atlantic, and that of the Zambezi, which drains into the Indian Ocean.

This divide stretches from Angola along the full length of Zambia up to Tanzania. Among the continental divides it ranks second only to the Great Divide in America which separates the watersheds of the Pacific Ocean from those of the Atlantic Ocean.

The Luapula discharges from Lake Bangweulu as a formidable river. The western shore of the 300 m wide river bed is formed by Kapata Peninsula, a narrow and thickly forested strip of land separating the Luapula from Lake Kampolombo. There was no defined shore to the east. Endless marshes and flood plains stretched to the horizon, populated by thousands and thousands of the endemic black lechwe. The river seemed to have no flow at all, but it had sufficient depths, so they soon reached the village of Chief Mlosse, a tiny Bisa settlement of seven or eight huts at the edge of the peninsula. Graetz recruited 4 men to guide them through the swamp. With their canoe towed alongside they managed to cover 75 kilometers from Panta in 6 hours. Then the guides directed the boat into a channel between high walls of papyrus, they entered the swamps. Floating beds of grass clogged the channels to a width allowing only dugout canoes to pass. They had to hack their way through the winding waterway. The guides had told them that it would take one day to cross the papyrus swamp, but their calculation must have been based on a passage with their slender canoes. The Sarotti barely made a third of that stretch on the first day. On their way they had met some Bisa fishermen who told them that the Ba-Twa had retreated deeper into the swamps. Apparently they did not want that boat to cross their territory, therefore they gave no help. The following day some Bisa fishermen helped them to reach a piece of open river. It was a short-lived relief; soon they were back in the intricate network of channels. Floating beds of papyrus or grass closed up the channels to a width allowing only dugout canoes to pass. The Sarotti was hampered by her width. When the river opened up, vegetation clogged the propeller. Suddenly there were about twenty canoes swarming around - Ba-Twas! Ignoring Graetz they negotiated with One-Eye and agreed to help. The Ba-Twas had a different way of working their way through the papyrus: Instead of enlarging the channel with axes and shovels, they stamped with their bare feet a path through the papyrus, then lifted the boat and carried it along. When the waterway permitted punting, the boat was launched again. They reached the settlement of Pantabwe, the village of Ba-Twa chief Kiwuwa.

Graetz was cautious. The Ba-Twas must have been around and watched them all along. Of course, they could have attacked any time, so much was clear. What made them change their mind? Perhaps they wanted to get rid of the intruders. Or they had assured themselves that this Muzungu was harmless, and then they became curious. They must have heard of that stranger who had miraculously bestowed an eye on his gang leader, and who had grabbed a raging buffalo by the horns - in Africa such stories grow taller by the day. Graetz was curious, too. Ignoring the stench of decaying fish he pitched his tent between their wattle huts. He noted that their material culture was confined to what they could transport in their canoes: Spear, bow and arrows, nets and fishing hooks, woven grass mats, baskets, calabash rattles and one big water pipe which was kept by the chief and was used by the whole community. Graetz believed that the Ba-Twas were not ethnically distinct from the Bisa, but that they separated from them some time ago to become independent fishing nomads in this inaccessible wilderness. (Modern ethnologists believe that Ba-Twas are the indigenous people, whereas the Bemba, Bisa, Aushi, Kabende and Unga immigrated from the Congo much later.) Graetz collected a list of Twa vocabulary, went on to describe their music and dances and gave an account of their ceremonies on the occasion of marriage and death.

He took pains to give his venture a scientific appearance. After all, he claimed to be an explorer and under this pretext he had won some sponsors for his expedition. So he painstakingly mapped the river and the lake. He even bothered to map the waterways in the swamps, knowing full well that it would change appearance after the next heavy rainfall. He made notes on the abundant wildlife of the river, the magnificent birdlife and huge herds of the almost endemic black lechwe in the floodplains. Interestingly he never mentioned that branch of the Chambeshi which bypasses the lake and discharges directly into Luapula River. His main focus was directed on Lake Bangweulu which was hyped up by the media as the last resort of dinosaurs. Sure enough, there were Bisa people who tried to make Graetz believe they had seen these monsters, bigger than crocs, with scale-armoured skin and big, deadly fangs.

The party needed somebody to guide them through the grim swamps to the open river. It took some hard and lengthy negotiations until one of the Ba-Twas agreed to show Graetz the way to Tshongola, a village on the fringe of the swamp. Ten days they had spent in that confusion of river arms, channels and floating islands – and then they saw higher ground and some trees. The waterway broadened into a quiet and lazily moving river. They had made it! Behind the next turn of the river they saw a fairly large village: Tshongola.

From here on the river describes a huge bend before it turns in a north-westerly direction. Kabende boat people assured Graetz that up to Sakontwi the Luapula is deep enough for their boat. In high spirits they proceeded full power down river. Disaster struck as the Sarotti hit a rock hidden below the water surface. Probably it was deep enough for a canoe to pass, but it ripped off the iron keel rail of the Sarotti. They barely made it to Sakontwi where they dragged the boat ashore and gave it a complete overhaul.

Sakontwi was situated around the area of today's Kapalala, on the Sakania-Samfya trail. There was mail from the Fort Rosebery Magistrate. He wanted to know if Graetz had encountered any trouble on his way through Luapula Swamps. Secondly Graetz was tersely told that due to the sleeping sickness epidemic, the North-East of the country was in quarantine, and that he had to leave his African crew behind at the Belgian border post Kalonga. Only Europeans were exempted from that regulation. Now that was a serious setback. How was he going to get around Johnston Falls (today Mambilima Falls) without the help of his reliable boat crew, he wondered. But there was another problem right ahead of him: the Mambatuta Falls. It is a steep waterfall plummeting down in a single vertical drop.

Graetz explored the shore side. Several deep chasms run at right angles to the river – too deep to bridge and extending too far to be avoided. On the northern bank a stream separates from the main falls. It descends in a succession of smaller chutes, forming turbulent pools, leaping on a platform sloping downwards, dropping on slippery boulders, forming a natural weir which diverts the overflow towards the main curtain of water. The chance to lower the boat down there in one piece was pretty slim, but it was the only option left. Some of the Aushi helpers must have had serious doubts. They did not even care to collect their pay but quietly disappeared overnight.

Next morning Miombe ropes were slung around trees and the boat was lowered step by step. Graetz was standing in the boat, directing the rigging work. At the last terrace the rope tore and the boat was swept down. After a turbulent descend, the Sarotti stranded on a bank of coarse gravel, with Graetz still inside and One-Eye clinging to the hull planking. Below the falls the river descended over a series of minor rapids, interspersed by shallows and rocks which they negotiated cautiously. Close to Kalonga the boat was drawn by a strong current into the Nyengwenyengwe Cataract and swept down. It span around and came to a crashing halt on a shallow rock in the river. They fastened it as good as they could and set up camp on shore. The big problem now was to find people to take the boat down to the border post. Graetz walked down to Kalonga. Mijneer Vervoort, the Belgian customs inspector at Kalonga tried but was unable to recruit anybody. Luckily a merchant and 20 of his men went with him to the cataract to get the boat out of the river and take it to Kalonga. The Sarotti was moored close to today's Mwenda which decades later should become the landing stage for Chembe ferry at the Congolese side.

Now Graetz faced a serious problem. He had been ordered to leave the experienced Bemba crew behind, James the literate cook, Jeremias, his faithful servant, Mr. One-Eye, second in command, and the five Bemba boatmen. On their epic journey down the Chambeshi, through wetlands, swamps, over falls and god knows what they had become a team which trusted and understood each other without even exchanging a word. Graetz wrote to the Magistrate in Fort Rosebery and to the Governor of Northern Rhodesia to get an exemption, they both declined his request. It couldn't be helped, the crew had to return.

A few months earlier the railroad to Elisabethville had been commissioned. On Christmas morning Graetz borrowed a bicycle and went on a narrow dirt track to Sakania to catch the goods train to Elisabethville (now Lubumbashi) where he hoped to solve his problems. As it turned out, James had ignored the order of quarantine. In Sakania he appeared with pots and pans, insisting that somebody had to organise and prepare soft food. Graetz had chartered a livestock wagon, and now James provided deluxe catering service. As the train started to move, James fell into a sort of trance as trees and people were floating by. Then he deftly arranged his cooking utensils, kindled a fire in the wagon and prepared a lavish meal. The train journey took 20 hours. Graetz gave a vivid account of that boom town which had been founded only one year before, but already had attracted 2000 white residents. Prices were sky-high and labour was not available. He thought of waiting for the tsetse-fly restrictions to be lifted as he received a telegram from Paris saying that they could not find a camera man to replace Octave Fière. Graetz took the next train to Cape Town to catch a boat to Europe to find a camera man.

Interlude

To cut the part outside Northern Rhodesia short: In Berlin Graetz underwent a proper operation, the jaw was readjusted.

In Europe hair-raising stories had been published about his expedition which was regarded as a kind of suicide squad. No qualified camera man was willing to go with him to Africa. A Silesean estate owner who surrounded himself with the aura of a daredevil and crack shot agreed to accompany him. As it should turn out later, his thirst for adventure was satisfied after only one week in Africa. An Austrian ex-sailor also joined the expedition. He was a hard-working and reliable type, but after he and Graetz had been shipwrecked and battled all night for dear life in a hurricane on the Congo River he was so unnerved that he left the expedition there and then.

But all that happened later. They were about to organise their boat passage to Africa as Graetz received a letter from the Kalonga customs officer saying that the Sarotti had sunk. Graetz had to procure another boat and reorganise the expedition. Now his starting point was the Congo estuary. He went upriver as far as Stanleyville and from there to Ankoro where the Luvua joins the Lualaba River. The Luvua drains Lake Mweru. It is a wild river, making a stunning transition in altitude from the high plateau into the Congo Basin, tumbling over a winding stretch of rapids, torrents and roaring cataracts. Everybody told him that it is not possible to negotiate that river with his boat and, as usual, Graetz ignored the warnings. But this time he had to admit defeat. He returned to Ankoro, sold the boat, recruited porters and made his ascend to Pweto on foot. On November 30th 1912 the party reached Lake Mweru.

Back on Luapula

A small steamer normally plied between Pweto and Kasenga, but it was under repair. The District Commissioner provided a 10 m long canoe, a pretty shaky affair. On their way south Graetz saw a steel boat bobbing up and down in the dense waterside vegetation. It was a Congolese Government boat. The crew – it was a rowing boat - was taking a break in the nearby village Niemba Kunda. Graetz quickly struck a deal, and he continued his journey in this steel boat. In the middle of the night they reached Lukonzolwa.

It was one of the depots Graetz had ordered to be established along his route. The following morning he checked his list. Among other supplies, there were some crates of brandy and sparkling wine to be waiting for him. The captain of the post opened the stores – nothing. Graetz was not surprised. The simple fact was that none of the depots had been established. The Hamburg-based company Walther Karl & Co. had cashed thousands of Marks and, cheerfully trusting that Graetz would never make it, they did not bother to establish any depot from the river mouth of the Congo to the Luapula. In the meantime this company had been bought by another company which later credited 3,500 Mark to Graetz and kept 1,000 Mark as 'administration fee'. In other words, on his journey through the Congo he not only had to overcome incredible obstacles, he also had to find and barter for fuel and provisions all along.

Anyway, there was no Schnapps in Lukonzolwa, but luckily the villagers sold cassava and chicken. It was rainy season and a heavy swell of the water hampered progress. The next station provided them with reinforcement. It was a group of prisoners chained at their necks, complete with askari guards. The boat appeared to be manned by galley slaves as they left the lake and entered Luapula River.

The lake and the lower Luapula had been properly surveyed and it was well developed. From the estuary onwards to Kasenga the river broadens into a vast system of floodplains, marshes and permanent lagoons for about 150 km. To Graetz it was a familiar sight: fields of feathery papyrus, the occasional tree, crocs and hippos, eagles and myriads of water birds. However, unlike Luapula Swamps south of Lake Bangweulu, the main river bed is not blocked by vegetation. It has a width of about 400 m and it carries enough water to allow passage for that steamer. On December 8th they reached the steep banks of Kasenga. Graetz saw Monsieur Overlaet, the Chef du poste, who also told him that no supplies from Walther Karl & Co. had arrived.

Porters were hired and the caravan walked along Johnston Falls, present day's Mambilima Falls. It is a succession of rapids stretching over several miles. After the ascent the caravan entered the fertile Luapula valley. Missionary builders had introduced the manufacture of sun-dried bricks. The villages were tidy and prosperous; they grew vegetable and fruit and sold it to the markets in Elisabethville.

The party arrived at Kalonga border post, the place where Graetz had left the Sarotti. Now the transit of Africa was complete. Graetz walked up to the station where Mijneer Vervoort was holding out on one of the loneliest outposts of the Belgian Congo.

On 19th December 1912 Graetz went by train from Sakania to Cape Town to book his passage to Europe.

Epilogue

In the sixties I had been travelling in the north of Nyasaland. Fifty years had passed since Graetz had been working his way up to the plateau, but it was still difficult to bounce along the track which once had been called Stevenson Road. In heavy rains vehicles carried chains. Log bridges had to be negotiated with utmost care, and at the peak of the rainy season the road was closed altogether. I do not know whether conditions have improved since.

Nothing has remained of the shortcut Graetz had hacked from the water shed down to Karunga River. As Graetz went 400 kilometres down Chambeshi Flats there was not even one bridge spanning the river. Today's Kasama-Isoka dirt track follows roughly the path on which Graetz was carried in the mashilla. Kasenamo does not exist anymore. In 1912 the remains of Octave Fière had been moved to Kasama and reburied in the graveyard of the White Fathers.

Today the Old Great North Road between Kasama and Mpika is tarred and a bridge spans the Chambeshi near the confluence of the Mansha. At the northern end of the bridge a memorial commemorates the cessation of hostilities of German forces after an armistice had been signed in Europe ending the Great War in 1918.

The Bangweulu is impervious to change. As I was cruising the swamps of southern Bangweulu in 1965, I had not heard of Paul Graetz and I did not know what I was in for. A local fisherman offered to take me with his dugout, but I was foolish enough to take a cumbersome rowing boat which often got stuck and had to be pulled. But the moist wilderness of marshes spreading away in every direction was magnificent, time came to a standstill. I am posting some photos I took.

Standstill in Time

Standstill in Time

Standstill in Time

Standstill in Time

Standstill in Time

Standstill in Time

In the eighties a road from Serenje to Samfya had been constructed. It cuts across the narrowest part of the Luapula swamps, just north of Tshongola. A 2.5-kilometre long bridge spans Luapula River, followed by an elevated causeway across the southern tail of the swamp.

About 100 miles downriver the Belgian border post Kalonga was situated. With the development of the Copperbelt a reliable road connection to Luapula Province became necessary. An agreement with the Belgian colonial administration was reached, and in the 1940s a graded laterite road was constructed from Mufulira to Fort Rosebery. The 70 km between Mokambo and Chembe crossing Congolese territory are known as the Pedicle Road. A motorised ferry, the Chembe ferry, crosses Luapula River. Today a 350 metre bridge across the Luapula is under construction, it is scheduled to be completed in 2008 or 2009, and then the ferry will be put out of operation. It is the site where the Sarotti sank, and where the two legs of the expedition ended.

Perhaps Joseph Thomson was the last of the great explorers in Africa. Way back in 1885 he deplored that the era of startling discoveries was over. He was disillusioned about his true motives:

I am doomed to be a wanderer. I am not an empire builder, I am not a missionary. I am not truly a scientist. I merely want to return to Africa to continue my wanderings.

Graetz, on the other hand, claimed that the objective of his boat trip was to prove that the Chambeshi is the headstream of the Congo River. True, he was the first to travel the mighty Congo from its headwaters to the estuary, but the expedition did not produce any significant discoveries. His attempts to appear as an explorer are rather Don Quixotic, for the big geographical mysteries, including the origin of the Congo, had been unravelled decades ago.

Off-roaders still remember Graetz as a pioneer among African motorists, but otherwise he was soon forgotten.

The great African continent has attracted quite a few romantic adventurers, and Paul Graetz certainly was one of them.