Been a while since the last installment, but various things have been holding up the old painting schedule lately. But anyway, got back on track this week and so we can have another 'Back to Africa' post.
One summer while renting a house in the Dordogne (well hark at Mr. La-de-da!) I came across this book in the owner's library, and was instantly captivated by it. I think Richard Francis Burton has always been my favourite one of the "Darkest Africa" explorers because he was such an odd character. Farwell's book gives the impression of a man who consistently fell out with every single person he ever met, in fact one gets the distinct impression that locked alone in an empty room he would still somehow get into an argument. This flaw of his I actually find appealing, because I'm a bit like that sometimes. Coupled with his marvelous and dangerous exploits penetrating the forbidden world of Islam in disguise, and his most un-Victorian desire to shock (he seemed somewhat obsessed with the sexual habits of native cultures, and had a sideline as a publisher of mucky books) he makes for a really fascinating character.
Rupert Everett in one of his (Burtonesque sex-obsessed) documentaries, dubbed him
The Victorian Sex Explorer. (By the way, did anyone see his programme on Lord Byron? It was a hoot. They should
make him make more sex-docs about famous historical figures, they are really funny).
Anyway, in 1855, in an expedition supported by the Royal Geographical Society and the East India Company, he set out to explore the interior of the Somali country. With him went Lieutenants John Hanning Speke, G. E. Herne, William Stroyan and a motley band of Egyptian, Arab and African porters and guards. Burton had just returned from a daring solo trip to the holy city of Harar, deep in unexplored territory, and never before seen by European eyes. It wasn't long before the expedition ran into trouble.
Not long after they had made camp near the sea, Burton heard shots. He found two of his porters firing warning shots over the heads of a small band of horsemen. Burton chastised his men, telling them not to fire warning shots, but that they should
"shoot into, not above, a crowd." (Well, that's neighbourly, isn't it?) Burton suspected they were scouts, the usual precursor to a raid, but he apparently found their story plausible and so thought no more about it. Bad move.
You have to imagine it's nighttime.In the dead of night Burton was awoken by the a sharp cry of alarm. They were under attack by Somalis and there was no sign of most of his men. Burton, Herne and Speke found themselves caught in a desperate struggle, under club, spear and javelin attack from masses of tribesmen who had overrun the camp. Burton had armed himself with a sabre, while Herne and Speke brandished Colt pistols, which they used to deadly effect.
The ammunition ran low, but they had far from run out of Somalis, so Burton gave the word to escape. As he dashed into the darkness a thrown javelin transfixed his face (in through one cheek and out the other) but somehow he managed to escape with the spear still stuck in his head. Next morning he ran into Herne, who had escaped mostly unharmed.
After nicking himself for a third time with his sabre, Burton was forced to concede that it might,
after all, be prudent to await the arrival of the rest of the porters with his GILLETTE FUSION.But Speke was not so lucky. He had been captured by the raiders and staked out. They proceeded to inflict eleven spear wounds on him just for the fun of it (the devils!), yet somehow, mostly by being British, he managed to free himself and escape, catching up with Burton and Herne in the morning.
Speke, a much less experienced Victorian Sex Tourist than Burton, is forced to take drastic
measures when he once again forgets his safeword.Upon returning to the looted camp when the raiders had gone, they found the body of Lt. Stroyan. He had been pierced by many spear and sword wounds, and he had numerous bruises caused by war-clubs. Depressed at the death of their friend, who it appears had been the life and soul of the party, the explorers took his corpse and departed by Dhow for Aden. The expedition had ended in disaster, and Burton was in hot water with the powers that be.
With the Crimean war in full swing, Burton returned to his army career. He was put in charge of a unit of Bashi-Bazouks. True to form, they immediately mutinied. Good old Dick. Of course, later on Burton would famously begin a feud with Speke all over something as petty as the source of the Nile, but that is a story for another day...
Burton's account of the the incident can be found in the Post Script of his book
First Footsteps in East Africa, which is mostly concerned with his trip to Harar. I'll tell you what you won't find in there though...
...Appendix IV, that's what. And I'll tell you for why. It's a frank description of Burton's observations of the sexual habits of the Somali people. What? We're not allowed to read that, even in this day and age? Dick must be turning in his grave. Anybody know of an edition that
does include Appendix IV? I'd quite like to read it. Um, for scientific and anthropological reasons, of course.
Anyway, how about a few pics of my little Somali project? (about time)
The jubilant tribesmen ransack the camp. Still need to paint a lot more Somali boys yet.
Some close-ups of the lads...
Burton mentions war-clubs a lot in his account, and I recall reading elsewhere that many Somali warrior fought merely with "sticks", so I gave a couple of them knobkerrie-style clubs.
You'll notice some of them have war-paint. I have no historical basis for this, I just thought it looked cool on the Hollywood Somalis...
...Like this fellow.
Group shot of some of my other Somali figures. The ones with firearms are more for gaming the campaigns against the so-called Mad Mullah (1890s-1920s) than to send against 1850s explorers.
This is the official
Foundry Model Soldier Hobby (no really, they actually call it something like that in one of their books) Richard Burton figure. He's been converted slightly by the addition of a sabre to his left hand. A dildo or packet of French Ticklers would be equally appropriate.
Foundry do actually do a Speke figure, but he didn't have the right vibe for this (he's more of a 'where's the source of that damn Nile?' Speke), so I used this Indian Mutiny figure. He has a nice 1850s look about him. Need to find a couple more like him for Herne and Stroyan if we're going to game this.
Camels and luggage. The damn luggage held up the project for about a week. I find I loathe painting things like this for some reason, and I really dragged my heels with this bit.
"Well Jack, this is a bit more bloody like it, eh?" 
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