CHAPTER 15

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TANGANYIKA TERRITORY ; DAR-ES-SALAAM
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We Leave Tabora — An Indian Invasion — Morogoro — Haven-Of-Peace
Father Raeskin — A Tall Story — First Come First Served
Deeper Shadows Of War — A Brother With A Grievance
Shall We Embark On A German Ship? — Beauty And Squalor
Missionaries From Germany — Goodbye To Africa

Tanganyika Territory
On the train
13th September 1938
Dead of night; a screeching train as it rushes as fast as its wood fuel can move it to the coast. My last journey in Africa. The mosquito shutters are up and my heart rather down.

Early this morning black boys in blue shorts pushed our luggage to the station in wheelbarrows. Crowds of Indians with large families were on the platform, together with one Englishman going on leave, and a few English friends who had come to see him off looking wistful and wishful of being in his joyful place. But the Fathers who had come to see us off say to me, “Deepest sympathy — it must be dreadful to have to go to Europe." So it is, but my natural being is glad to be going away out of this hot, dust-laden air.

The view from the train has been in sympathy with my mood also. As desolate as Mwanza for long hours until, in the afternoon, we reached a forest of thin trees. At the end of this Father Donders left the train at Manyoni station and Father Arts got off the train too. The former says "Goodbye" for ever, but the latter is to Dar-es-salaam by the next train in two days time. He is off into the wilds to see a cousin in one of our missions.

Loss of sleep and throbbing fingers insist upon my going straight on to the coast.

As my train steamed out of the station a steward told me to expect a companion who would board the train at about midnight. I have taken the top berth so that the newcomer will not have to climb — he may be fat or an invalid.

Twelve-fifteen. The companion has arrived. He is an Indian with a wife and four children! . . .

I seem to be somewhat of a surprise and certainly de trop !

Twelve-thirty. The baby and its bigger sister are crying; Mohammed and Mrs. Mohammed are standing up and waving arms and having what I think is a frightful row. I appear to be the subject matter. But what can I do but await developments?

Twelve-forty-five. The baby and one of her brothers are now crying. Madam has gone and Mohammed is doing his best to quieten the children.

One a.m. All's well. Peace, perfect peace. There was a mistake and India is now in its own and proper compartment. Mohammed said, "Sir, very sorry." Madam Mohammed said a whole lot of things, which from her smile I gathered to be pleasant . . .

On waking the next morning I saw that we had at last reached some mountainous country and were, therefore, fast approaching the coast.

At Morogoro, the Mission and College of the Holy Ghost Fathers stands out magnificent on the side of the mountain, and looks down on the station. I was sorely tempted to leave the train and spend two days with the Fathers up there. Weariness and fingers, however, won the consultation, so I sent a wire to Dar-es-salaam to warn our own Fathers of my coming this afternoon.

My old friend Father Raeskin met me at the station. Memories of the London I am going to, come with him, and we talk at once of old days together at Heston.

A native "boy" (looked like a college boy) is sick on the platform. An Anglican missionary tells me that he (the, boy) sat with his back to the engine and got no air.

"'But why"' I asked, "did he not ask someone to change places with him?"

"That is what we asked him," quoth the missionary "and he said, "I should have done that but you see there was no one with me in the carriage to ask!"

I do not believe that story. The Anglican missionary is a bit of a wag. Nevertheless, I think it is possible. Some natives are like that, "educated ones."

Dar-es-salaam means the "Haven of peace," and our house is most beautifully situated overlooking the harbour.
A Governor once said to a missionary: "You have the best sites in Africa."

"Your Excellency will agree," answered the priest, "that we were also the first Europeans to settle here." Brother B. is in the house. He is over sixty and a veteran of Tanganyika.

He was sent home three years ago and suffered several operations to be inflicted upon his abdomen. As soon as he was fit again, he asked to be allowed to return to Africa. "But," said his doctor "you will not live more than three years in Africa."

"And" asked the Brother, "how long do you think I should live in Europe?"

"Maybe ten years."

So the Brother returned to Africa, where he said he can build a new church in three years, whereas in Europe he would be almost useless. He had one big grievance against Europe, or rather against Germany. He is not a poor man, and, although a Dutchman, he had money in a German bank, which of course, under the Nazis, he was not allowed to withdraw, unless he spent it in Germany. That money would have been so useful in Africa. The more one hears of the Nazis, the more one is compelled to dislike the regime
.
This is September the fifteenth, and the news from "The National Programme" gets worse and worse. Father Raeskin and I both think that there will be no war, but we have to consider the possibility of it. Shall I cancel my passage on the German ship and lose most of the passage money?

If war breaks out when I am on the ship what will happen to me? Either we shall be in British waters or Portuguese. In the latter event the ship will stay there and I can easily get back to Uganda or on to an English ship. If in British waters then the ship will be shepherded into a British port and all will be well.

We do not think that the German captain and crew will be anything but very nice to British subjects. It will be in their best interests to have a good report from us if they are caught by a British ship. So we decide that unless war seems certain we shall embark according to schedule. It sounds as though there may be adventures ahead.

This is a beautiful place as long as one does not go too far inland, for there are the native quarters. I went there, of course. They are simply appalling. Dreadful, low huts of wood or mud with strips or stuff of all sorts, cloth, iron, paper and grass for roofs which are held down with big stones. Dust up to your ankles and higher, indescribable filth all over the place and natives of every tribe in Africa who have drifted down to the coast.

I am told by the Capuchin Fathers here that many of these natives live exceedingly good lives as Christians, but that the majority are Mohammedans or renegades or just pagans. It is certainly a pity that any of them ever left their native villages. I spent many hours amongst the natives and found some Baganda, who all wish that they were back home, even those who are doing very well.

On Board the S.S. "Tanganyika"
19th September 1938
A telegram sent to all prospective passengers warns us that the ship will sail on the 20th at dawn, instead of the 21st.
The ship anchored in the harbour in front of our house at dawn this morning. A dozen White Fathers, Brothers and three White Sisters, all Germans, disembarked. In a day or two they will all be on their way to one or other of the Vicariates in Tanganyika Territory. We welcome them as warmly as a mother welcoming sons and daughters. How much they are needed in those missions and how happy they are to be going to them! Not a word of politics is breathed, but not one of us is without anxiety. Perhaps before nightfall they will all be interned here as "enemy subjects." Hitler's name is not mentioned.

They give us excellent reports of the ship and her crew. We took our luggage aboard at four o clock and inspected the ship. She is fine and clean and the stewards fall over themselves to be nice to us. That is what we expected and we are certain now that our decision to take this ship in spite of war scares is the correct one.

At Sea
22nd September 1938
I have been standing on deck, looking back at Africa. Now, not even a light is visible from the shore, but I shall see for the rest of my days multitudes of blacks holding out their arms, like the Macedonians of St. Paul's vision, and calling "Come over and save us." Many millions still need saving from the darkness and evil of the ancient paganism, and many millions need saving from the Neo-paganism which is being imported into Africa from Europe.

What I have written shows at least that the African harvest is ripe unto the reaping, and that the reapers are pitifully few.
"Pray ye therefore, the Lord of the Harvest to send workers into the Harvest."

OR

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