[Mombasa, 1899]

I had set my heart on going to Nairobi, and Qasim bin Mansur [my Swahili servant in Mombasa] had set his on traveling to Nairobi with me. He said, “I will be your servant there, and I will accompany you on your hunting expeditions in the jungle.” I really did need someone courageous, and Qasim was a brave and fearless young man. His faithfulness and service had found him a place in my heart, and so I happily agreed to hire him on a monthly salary. He eagerly prepared for the journey with me.

The plan was to go to Nairobi and make it my base. From there I would make regular trips into the surrounding jungle to go hunting and make tours through the encampments of the wild tribes, where I would acquire elephant tusks and rhinoceros horns. Back then, you could collect thousands of rupees’ worth of the stuff from these people for just a few pennies. In those days, the biggest ivory trader in Mombasa was Seth Isma‘il. I spoke with him about what all I might need. On his advice I bought fake pearls, spools of thick copper, iron wire, and cloth for the savages. Once I had gotten a small tent and everything I needed for my meals, I was prepared to travel to Nairobi with Qasim and [my Punjabi servant] Mi‘raj.

Finally, on the 14th of August, 1899, we boarded the train to Nairobi and left Mombasa and Kalindi behind. Ten miles after Kalindi jungle began to appear on all sides. The sight was breathtaking. It was not so much a wilderness as a garden in the full bloom of spring. You couldn’t look away. The light winds felt delightful. If you looked behind you, you would see a gorgeous range of blue hills, and, at their center, the white buildings of Mombasa and Kalindi. You could clearly make out the ocean sparkling in the golden sunlight. This view remained for some time, but, just as the world turns, this pleasing sight soon began to slip away until the garden was replaced by desert and wild wasteland on either side of the track.