CHAPTER 12

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LAKE VICTORIA NYANZA
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Goodbye To Uganda—Mass On Board—Fellow Passengers, European and Native
Bukoba—A Drowning Indian And A Point Of View—The Indian Problem
A Significant Incident—And Another

What Is it that holds one's heart to this country? is it the golden sunshine or its entrancing open, spaces? Is it the wild mystery of its forests and the glory of its bills? Is it the bright, happy smiles of its dark people and the simplicity of their childlike hearts? Is it that Europe seems old and ruined and that here one has a child to train and to mould into the image of Christ? Certainly as one leaves its shores it seems to call, "Come back! Come back! Here is your home.".

Father Superior of the Entebbe Mission had arranged for a "Gala" lunch in my honour. The Sisters of Marie Reparatrice sent a huge and lovely cake. There was also, rare luxury, a glass of wine for the toast— "To your early return."

In the evening we sat and waited for the sound of the siren to warn us that the ship was at the pier of the lake. I felt like a man awaiting his execution. The ugly shriek came all too soon and we went down to the big steamer. The friends and brethren remained on board until the very last moment. Now they are gone, and we are well out on the waters going farther away from Uganda.

Strange! I feel like one going into exile instead of going home to England. I remember that D.C. suddenly prophesied, "Father, you will come back in 1940."

"And what," I asked, "has inspired that prophecy?

"I saw it in the, moon," he answered.

I looked up. 'There is no moon," I said.

There is another Englishman on the ship who is also going home. He was singing and dancing with joy about it.

The Goan chief steward asked me if I would say Mass tomorrow. He said that he and some of the crew would like to attend. Tomorrow Yes, of course, I Should say Mass. It really does not matter much where we go, as long as we are truly sent Wherever we are we have God; wherever we are we have the Mass. Yes, tomorrow we shall say Mass. So goodbye to the pas— let us get on with the future. Mass in the first-class saloon and the crew will attend. There will also be, please God, some confessions and communions.

5th September 1938. On Lake Victoria
An almost sleepless night; for at half-past three, to the yells of hundreds of natives, we touched the pier of Bukakata, the Lake Port for Western and Northern Uganda. The ship began at once to take on bales of cotton, destined for Bombay, and sacks of coffee. The cranes shrieked and the men shouted so that even in the first-class saloon where I said Mass at half-past five, one had the impression that Bedlam was just outside the door. Thank God there were some confessions, and eight of, the crew were able to assist at the Holy Sacrifice.

How grateful I was, once again, to Mrs. Thomas and her workers in London, for the portable altar they had given me on my departure for Africa four years ago. I thought during the Mass of Father Martindale and his love for and devotion to the sailors whenever he travels.

Here on Lake Victoria some of the men at Mass with the grease of the engines and coal dust still upon them. Grand!

After Mass I went ashore to the native village. All the men were engaged in loading the ship but I was able to talk to the women and lots of children. The nearest mission is thirty miles away, and many of these people were Catholics and so glad to see a priest. If only we had more priests and nuns! There are thousands and thousands, even in our converted Uganda, constantly deprived of the sacraments.

At breakfast I met my fellow passengers. The Director of the Uganda Railway and Steamship Company with his wife hope to find a small boat waiting for them at the head of some outlandish river. There is a miner on his way back to Mwanza, in Tanganyika Territory, after a convalescence in Uganda. He has found some gold, but says that there does not yet seem to be much hope for miners in Tanganyika. There is another young man, looking for work. His home is in Chelsea and his young wife is waiting and hoping somewhere in Africa. They have no money to get home, and if they went home only the dole seems to be awaiting them. Already I am getting in touch with problems of Europeans and again realise that I am on my way to Europe.

Another passenger was an Acting Provincial Commissioner to whom I had a letter of introduction from the Acting Chief Secretary of Uganda. We talked for three solid hours on deck. I learned a great deal about the famous Tanganyika to which this ship is carrying me, and was happy to hear of the cordial relations which exist everywhere between the Government and the Missions.

Nothing could be more beautiful than the scene around us this afternoon. A wonderful sky of blue, matched, of course, by the calm waters of the lake, surrounded by green undulating hills, behind which rose up yellow mountains with trees on their summits looking for all the world like huge heads with green hair standing on end.

In the native end of the ship, where I spent some time, there are a large crowd of Bazita (people of Bukoba, Tanganyika) returning home after work in Uganda. They appear be a all Catholics, and once again I am consoled by the friendliness of their enthusiastic greetings of my habit. There are a number of Nubian women, wives of men of the King's African Rifles. These are very picturesque in their highly coloured clothes, flowers in their hair and coloured buttons fixed in the lobe of the ear.

At nine o'clock I stepped on to the shore of Bukoba — my first contact with Tanganyika Territory, of which all Europe and much of Africa is talking. The mission is very close to the pier, and thither I was carried in the Bishop's car to receive a riotous welcome from old friends. The greatest surprise of all was to see Father Gautier, well known to Heston people. He had come forty miles to see me for an hour. Here too was Father Arts who is to travel with me as far as Southampton. He is on his way to make a thirty days' retreat after ten years spent on the missions. Another wonderful blessing that God inspired our founder, Cardinal Lavigerie, to bestow upon his missionaries.

All the mission staff came down to the ship and we were a very merry party, until "time" was called. The cranes were screeching again and sleep was out of the question. Father Arts and I walked on the lake shore for as long as our legs would stand it, then, making our way through what appeared to be thousands of natives, we went on board.

At about three o'clock in the morning all the cargo was aboard, a gangway was lowered and the natives and Indians were allowed to embark. There was a frightful charge and an Indian fell, or was pushed into the water. Immediately a native sailor went in after him and pulled him out.

The Captain was very pleased. "There would," he said to me, "have been a most awful fuss if that man had been drowned."

"The man would also have lost his life" I ventured to answer. But an Indian more or less would not, the Captain seemed to indicate, change in any way the history of the world. I suppose that a Court of Inquiry would.

A huge tent-like structure had been fixed up on the third class deck and some Indians were kicking natives out of it so as to find room for themselves and their wives and families. At last a very large native grabbed an Indian and cast him forth. Characteristically,some Indians then came to complain to the Captain, who regained my esteem by answering, "If you want special accommodation you must pay for it with a second-class ticket. The natives have as much right as you have to that tent."

Undoubtedly, the Captain does not admire nor like many Indians in Africa. Does anyone? In Kenya they are a "problem." They bring pressure to bear upon the Government at home through India; in Tanganyika and Uganda they have most of the businesses in their hands, and I was told that they send the money obtained from the natives to India. The scene on deck, the grabbing Indians, the suffering but resentful and, at first, patient natives being cast out of the tent, might suggest the invasion of Africa by Indians, and the final defeat of the Indians when the African giant rose up, in defence of his people. Could it depict the future?

The Captain went on to tell me that he loves the natives. He said, "We can do anything with them. They listen and are reasonable, but the Indians cause us all the trouble in the world." Need I add that many Indians have done much good in Africa?

We got off on our way to Mwanza about half-past four a.m. and I tried to get some sleep. As Mass was at six, however, I cannot say that I felt rested. There was, however, nothing to do after breakfast, and at long last my tired eyes closed.

In the afternoon we raced for the river at which the Company Director's boat was to wait. The long delay at Bukakata however made it probable that the boat would be gone. We went long out of our way right up to the river; there was no boat there, and turning the ship round we sped on our course to Mwanza to the great disgust of a large number of natives whose homes lay near the river. They must now go on to Mwanza and walk a hundred miles back. It seemed so simple a matter to go on just a little farther to disembark these men and women and so spare them that long, hot trek. The incident did nothing to weaken my opinion that, generally speaking, Europeans employed in business concerns in Africa are less considerate of the natives than those, like Government officials, who are not obsessed with the need, or the desire, of making money. It makes all the difference in the world to a man's attitude to the Africans whether he is in Africa to help himself merely, or to help the natives to help themselves.

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