26Th.  Leaving Shinte, with eight of his men to aid in carrying our luggage, we passed, in a northerly direction, down the lovely valley on which the town stands, then went a little to the west through pretty open forest, and slept at a village of Balonda.  In the morning we had a fine range of green hills, called Saloisho, on our right, and were informed that they were rather thickly inhabited by the people of Shinte, who worked in iron, the ore of which abounds in these hills.

The country through which we passed possessed the same general character of flatness and forest that we noticed before.  The soil is dark, with a tinge of red—­in some places it might be called red—­and appeared very fertile.  Every valley contained villages of twenty or thirty huts, with gardens of manioc, which here is looked upon as the staff of life.  Very little labor is required for its cultivation.  The earth is drawn up into oblong beds, about three feet broad and one in height, and in these are planted pieces of the manioc stalk, at four feet apart.  A crop of beans or ground-nuts is sown between them, and when these are reaped the land around the manioc is cleared of weeds.  In from ten to eighteen months after planting, according to the quality of the soil, the roots are fit for food.  There is no necessity for reaping soon, as the roots do not become bitter and dry until after three years.  When a woman takes up the roots, she thrusts a piece or two of the upper stalks into the hole she has made, draws back the soil, and a new crop is thereby begun.  The plant grows to a height of six feet, and every part of it is useful:  the leaves may be cooked as a vegetable.  The roots are from three to four inches in diameter, and from twelve to eighteen inches long.

There are two varieties of the manioc or cassava—­one sweet and wholesome, the other bitter and containing poison, but much more speedy in its growth than the former.  This last property causes its perpetuation.  When we reached the village of Kapende, on the banks of the rivulet Lonaje, we were presented with so much of the poisonous kind that we were obliged to leave it.  To get rid of the poison, the people place it four days in a pool of water.  It then becomes partially decomposed, and is taken out, stripped of its skin, and exposed to the sun.  When dried, it is easily pounded into a fine white meal, closely resembling starch, which has either a little of the peculiar taste arising from decomposition, or no more flavor than starch.  When intended to be used as food, this meal is stirred into boiling water:  they put in as much as can be moistened, one man holding the vessel and the other stirring the porridge with all his might.  This is the common mess of the country.  Though hungry, we could just manage to swallow it with the aid of a little honey, which I shared with my men as long as it lasted.  It is very unsavory (Scottice:  wersh); and no matter how much one may eat, two hours afterward he is as hungry as ever.  When less meal is employed, the mess is exactly like a basin of starch in the hands of a laundress; and if the starch were made from diseased potatoes, some idea might be formed of the Balonda porridge, which hunger alone forced us to eat.  Santuru forbade his nobles to eat it, as it caused coughing and expectoration.