Karl Weule

Summary

Karl Weule Native life in East Africa (1909)

In this confined, hot, and often enough dirty receptacle, they sleep, wake or dream, while the mother wields the heavy pestle, pounding the maize in the mortar, or grinds the meal on the stone, while she breaks the ground for sowing, hoes up the weeds or gathers in the crops, while she carries the heavy earthen water-jar on her head from the distant spring, and while, as now, she sways to and fro in the dance. No wonder if, under such circumstances, the native baby is thoroughly familiar with the national step and rhythm even before he has left the carrying-cloth and the maternal breast.
Source: Gutenberg

Karl Weule Native life in East Africa (1909)

Kibwana, in his capacity of valet, has long ago become accustomed to my white skin; but there are plenty of eyes staring through the gaps in the boma palisade or the headman’s fence, in astonished enjoyment of this daily spectacle. When I get out, I find there is not a vestige of rain—it was only the heavy morning dew, dripping from the thick-foliaged mango-trees under which our tents are pitched. The sun is as yet invisible; Newala is shrouded in a thick mist—not even the lofty trees in the burying-ground outside the gateway being recognizable in this rolling sea of white.
Source: Gutenberg

Karl Weule Native life in East Africa (1909)

I have now been two days in the capital of German East Africa, a spot which may well fascinate even older travellers than myself. Not that the scenery is strikingly grand or majestic—on the contrary, lofty mountain-masses and mighty rivers are conspicuous by their absence, and the wide expanse of the open ocean contributes nothing directly to the picture, for Dar es Salam lies inland and has no seaview worth mentioning. The charm of the landscape lies rather in one of the happiest combinations of flashing waters, bright foliage, and radiant sunshine that can be imagined.
Source: Gutenberg

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