Chimseia, Chimsaka, Mtarika, Mtende, Makanjela, Mataka, and all the chiefs and people in our route to the Lake, are Waiyau, or Waiau.[15] On the southern slope down to the river there are many oozing springs and damp spots where rice has been sown and reaped.

The adjacent land has yielded large crops of sorghum, congo-beans, and pumpkins.
Successive crowds of people came to gaze.

My appearance and acts often cause a burst of laughter; sudden standing up produces a flight of women and children.

To prevent peeping into the hut which I occupy, and making the place quite dark, I do my writing in the verandah.
Chitane, the poodle dog, the buffalo-calf, and our only remaining donkey are greeted with the same amount of curiosity and laughter-exciting comment as myself.
Every evening a series of loud musket reports is heard from the different villages along the river; these are imitation evening guns.
All copy the Arabs in dress and chewing tobacco with "nora" lime, made from burnt river shells instead of betel-nut and lime.

The women are stout, well-built persons, with thick arms and legs; their heads incline to the bullet shape; the lip-rings are small; the tattoo a mixture of Makoa and Waiyau.