One
unusual day as a pilot in Daressalaam was when Jimmy Mackay, the Harbour
Master, asked Ian Butcher and I to go down by road to Ras Kimbiji lighthouse,
about 50 km South of Dar. Purpose of the trip was to ascertain the general condition
of the light-house mechanism as it was proposed that, if good, it should be
dismantled and shipped to Nairobi for inclusion as an exhibit in the Railway
Museum. Railway engineers were in the process of constructing a new solar
lighthouse nearby the manned old German built one. We were to take in some
building supplies for the engineers at the same time.
Ian
and I prepared the gear for the trip and a few days later, very early in the
morning, headed down to the lighthouse in two long-wheel
based Land Rovers loaded to the brim with gear plus a few solid Watu (men)
co-opted from the mooring gang. There is no road to the lighthouse and when we
got within 7 kilometres the track we were on petered out altogether! So we were faced with a long and hot walk
through the bush following a very faint and narrow track. One of the Watu knew
the way so there was no risk of getting lost but ending up as a lion's
breakfast remained a possibility!
What
a hot, sweaty seven kilometres that was! The sun was beating down and not a
breath of air penetrated the bush making for a most perspiring time. Ian and I
had the lightest loads as we were carrying only water and some food but we were
nevertheless soaked from head to foot in no time. The Watu were carrying full
(!) gas cylinders (back-ups I guess) and a heap of engineering gear so they
were sweating plenty as well. (The lions had eaten, thank you!)
We
finally broke out of the scrub about ¼ miles from the lighthouse and what a
relief it was to catch a whiff of a sea air not to mention our destination
after our two long hours trek through the bush.
The
German lighthouse was a majestic stone affair, painted a brilliant white,
soaring some 25 metres high. Atop were beautifully constructed prism lenses and
of course the magnificent brass clock mechanism which drove the light around.
It was all in pristine condition, the clockwork mechanism lightly oiled,
gleaming in the sunlight. All very impressive and the view from the top out to
sea was stunning. Down below and just off to the right was the new lighthouse. Too noble a word. Light frame being made of a steel lattice
work complete with a single light on top. No more than 10 metres high it was
barely able to look over the cliff top scrub. Certainly the structure would be
all but invisible by day but what would a Railway Engineer in Nairobi know
about navigators needing to know their position by day? Lighthouses are for
night time use, aren't they?
Back
down at ground level we looked at the ingenious winding mechanism set up by the
Germans. It had worked perfectly well for more than half a century often under
extremely hot conditions.
Imagine
a grandfather clock complete with the weights hanging down. Once a week you
pulled one weight up which would wind up the clock and as the
clock unwound so the weight came back down,
very slowly. Exactly the same principle was applied at the lighthouse, the only
difference being that the weight was quite a bit bigger and heavier than
Grandpa's clock.
Question:
"how does a German sitting in Dar some 50 kilometres away know that his
lighthouse clock will be rewound every two hours by an unsupervised African
lighthouse keeper, one of three on station, in the middle of the night"?
Answer:
"Build a bed with an immoveable stone pillow concreted into the floor
directly under the path of the descending pendulum weight. The pillow is in
such a position that the weight descends on his head". How to sleep on the
job and be in the right place at the right time!
We
felt sorry for the three elderly men and their families whose life of idyllic
bliss was soon to end once the automatic light was commissioned. They lived in
comfortable houses built for them by the Railways and being good Africans had
carved out a neat shamba (garden) where they grew their fruit and veggies
etc. They were cheerful, healthy, happy
looking people far from the nearest village which was back where we had left
the Landrovers. Growing wild in the nearby bush on the cliff's edge where the
sweetest and smallest tomatoes I had ever seen or tasted. Today, of course,
Sweet Toms are a common variety and I often wonder if the ones on the cliff top
were just self-seeded escapees from the shamba many years ago.
The
seven kilometres' hike back was a killer and took the best part of 2 ½ hours!
Two very tired marine pilots eventually clambered back into the Landrovers in
the dark as it was about 19.30 by this time, for the slow, tortuous and very
bumpy trip back to town. At least we didn't have to drive which was a blessing.
(The African drivers had stayed with the cars)
As
a postscript the lighthouse mechanisms were successfully taken down and shipped
back to Dar by dhow, the traditional way of getting supplies to the lighthouse.
It was considered far too dangerous a landing for our tugs or lighters because
there was no beach nearby. "How the lighthouse keeps and dhow Nahoda's
(Captains) managed over the years I would love to know!
What
remains in my memory of the day is my admiration for the Germans who built the
light, the Nahoda's for their skill servicing such a treacherous spot and the
lighthouse keepers for maintaining the equipment in such perfect working order
in the face of the Monsoons over all those years. Oh, I nearly forgot the
memory of our aching limbs and a 04.45 hours call from the Signal Station the
next morning: "Time to go Sir, the Heemskerk coming up from the South at
speed."
As
far as I know the light successfully made it to Nairobi. I bet it is not looked
after so lovingly as it had been at Ras Kimbiji for
all those years!
Capt.
Peter Barefoot, East African Railways & Harbour pilot