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What Makes Us Human How Minds Develop through Social Interactions
How Minds Develop through Social Interactions 1st Edition Jeremy Carpendale
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Reading Minds: How Childhood Teaches Us to Understand People Henry Wellman
“How do you go from a bunch of cells to something that can think?” This question, asked by the 9-year-old son of one of the authors, speaks to a puzzle that lies at the heart of this book. How are we as humans able to explore such questions about our own origins, the workings of our mind, and more? In this fascinating volume, developmental psychologists Jeremy Carpendale and Charlie Lewis delve into how such human capacities for reflection and self-awareness pinpoint a crucial facet of human intelligence that sets us apart from closely related species and artificial intelligence. Richly illustrated with examples, including questions and anecdotes from their own children, they bring theories and research on children’ s development alive. The accessible prose shepherds readers through scientific and philosophical debates, translating complex theories and concepts for psychologists and non-psychologists alike. What Makes Us Human is a compelling introduction to current debates about the processes through which minds are constructed within relationships. Challenging claims that aspects of thinking are inborn, Jeremy Carpendale and Charlie Lewis provide a relationally grounded way of understanding human development by showing how the uniquely human capacities of language, thinking, and morality develop in children through social processes. They explain the emergence of communication within the rich network of relationships in which babies develop. Language is an extension of this earlier communication, gradually also becoming a tool for thinking that can be applied to understanding others and morality. Learning more about the development of what is right in front of us, such as babies’ actions developing into communicative gestures, leads to both greater appreciation of the children in our lives and a grasp of what makes us human.
This book will be of interest to anyone curious about the nature of language, thinking, and morality, including students, parents, teachers, and professionals working with children.
Jeremy Carpendale is Professor of Developmental Psychology at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, Canada, and the father of two.
Charlie Lewis is Professor of Family and Developmental Psychology at Lancaster University, UK, and the father of two.
What Makes Us Human
How Minds Develop through Social Interactions
Jeremy Carpendale and Charlie Lewis
First published 2021 by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
and by Routledge
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The right of Jeremy Carpendale and Charlie Lewis to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this title has been requested
ISBN: 978-0-367-53792-0 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-0-367-53793-7 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-12510-5 (ebk)
Typeset in Sabon by Taylor & Francis Books
To Hannah and Max, and Deborah, plus Charlie’ s gang: Rosie, Tom, Camilla, Lyndsey, Laurie, William, Edward and Otto
2.1 An “embarrassment-like ” reaction in small babies studied by Vasudevi Reddy
2.2 An early demonstration of joint attention by Vincent Reid and Tricia Striano: infants are first shown this photograph of an adult looking at two objects
2.3 The infants are then shown this photograph of just the objects
2.4 To test for the emergence of gaze following researchers explore when infants look to where an adult has turned
6.1 Helping (line A) and hindering (line B) events watched by babies
The letter orientation task
Preface
We wanted to write this book, first, because it concerns our own research questions, regarding the development of children ’ s thinking about the social world, their language development as well as moral development. Second, the available books on this issue tend to present one side of the story. We want to tell the other side. For example, Steven Pinker, a professor of psychology at MIT, entitled one of his books How the Mind Works, and the philosopher Jerry Fodor responded with a book entitled The Mind Doesn’t Work that Way. We also disagree with Pinker but for quite different reasons, and this book is our response to the position that Pinker shares with many others. A subtitle to this book could be “how the mind really works.” Finally, we want to answer questions posed to us by our children. Jeremy’ s daughter, Hannah, at 3½ asked, “Daddy, what is meaning?” and “How do I remember things?” and “What is thinking?” She happily went out to play while we spent the next years grappling with these fascinating yet complex problems. Later, as an adolescent, she quizzed her father about his position on the mind –body problem. Both Hannah and her brother Max asked how people made up words for things, which Jeremy took as asking about how language works. Max, at 9, asked, “How did things start to think?” And he said that all his other questions like do ants sleep and does the universe go on forever came down to his big question, which was, “how do you go from a bunch of cells to something that can think?” Then, at 16, he asked what Jeremy thought of the idea of a noble savage and the evolution of altruism, and can we be certain of any knowledge, and, by the way, is there any such thing as free will? Although we don’t claim to resolve all these complex issues, we do want to present a view of the development of human thinking as a way to approach these questions.
This book is intended for anyone interested in the nature of the mind, language, morality, thinking and, above all, the process of human
Preface development, which drives and explains all these skills. These miraculous developments occur under our noses, in our own homes and so are taken for granted and appear less complex and mysterious than other wonders of the world. But the mind is one of the most complex things to attempt to understand, and its development is fascinating. We believe that it is possible and timely to present some of the intriguing and important debates within developmental psychology in a way that is accessible to interested readers, regardless of their background. We will not assume a background in developmental psychology because we do not think that it should take years of graduate school to be able to understand what is at stake in these continuing debates. This book will be of interest to anyone fascinated by questions concerning the nature and development of thinking and human minds. This will include parents, teachers, and readers intrigued by what it takes for a child to develop human social skills. Understanding more about the development that is happening right in front of us, such as babies’ actions developing into gestures, leads to both a greater appreciation of the children in our lives and a grasp of what makes us human.
Acknowledgements
This book has been in progress for some time so too many people to name have contributed in diverse ways. These include discussions with our mentors Michael Chapman, Michael Chandler, John Shotter, and John Newson, with colleagues Ulrich Müller, Bill Turnbull, Tim Racine, and Tanya Broesch, and with friends who read chapters, including Rosie Smith, Al Walters, Rolly Lorimer, and Kay O’Connor. There are many students, too many to name but particularly Viktoria Kettner, Beau Wallbridge, Vicki Parnell, Jim Stack, Stephanie Malone, and Joanna Lunn, whose questions helped us further consider and refine our ideas. We especially want to acknowledge our children Max and Hannah and Tom and Camilla and our partners, Deborah O’Connor and Rosie, as well as all of the children in our lives, grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and great nephews and great nieces. Having so many children in our lives constantly reminds us of the primacy of relationships and cognitive development in what makes us human. These children have made us question what we take for granted, so that we can see what is in front of us afresh in every developing relationship.
The problem
What
is it to be human?
In which we describe human forms of thinking and discuss possible explanations.
We are what we are through our relationships with others.
George Herbert Mead1
When we look at the stars and wonder about the beginning of the universe, or ponder the origins of life, we rarely pay attention to the fact that it is our human minds that allow us to ask and attempt to answer such questions. How human ways of being and thinking develop is just as wondrous and fascinating. Explaining the subtleties and complexities of this process is still beyond our complete understanding. The nature and development of the human mind is the subject of this book, and it touches our lives much more than distant galaxies or ancient fossils. Perhaps it is because human ways of living and thinking are so familiar and taken for granted that they appear less mysterious than the key processes examined by other sciences. But attempting to understand the mind and explain the development of how we interact and think is an enormously complex and fascinating field of study. As developmental psychologists, we study the miraculous development of the mind that occurs in our own homes and under our noses. How is it that humans grow from young babies who are still learning to coordinate their reaching in order to grasp objects to adults who can have a conversation as well as wonder about the stars?
What is thinking and how does it develop? How is it that you can read and understand this sentence? How is it that those curious marks on the paper somehow convey meaning? How do we understand what others say? Furthermore, how is it possible to think about and reflect on these questions? We have a tendency to overlook the fact that we can even ask and attempt to answer questions such as “How did the universe
begin and will it end?” Snails, mice and deer are not concerned with such matters. Even though dogs, ravens and chimpanzees show intelligent activity, they are not troubled by questions about how it is that they can solve problems. Why is it that humans, and not other species, can worry about the future and reflect on themselves? How did humans evolve and develop the capacities for looking backwards with regret or pride and forward in hope or fear? How is it that such capacities for imagination exist in humans, and tend to be taken for granted, yet do not seem to be present in other species?
Varieties of social species
To understand what it is to be human we first consider what humans are not. We contrast ants and humans, not to draw attention to similarities, but rather to point out how achievements, which may appear similar on the surface, are achieved through radically different means. Some might suggest that what is important about being human are accomplishments such as spreading across the planet, building large structures and living in cities, as well as developing agriculture and tending livestock. But for millions of years over 11,000 ant species2 have been hunting, gathering, farming, tending livestock, and building huge structures relative to their size, even with air conditioning, where they live in groups of millions. Indeed there are thousands of species which conduct a range of these activities. They capture or kill ants from neighboring nests activities that could be described as taking slaves and waging war. Whereas some species of ants made the transition from hunting and gathering to agriculture 50 to 60 million years ago, humans experienced this shift not much more than ten thousand years ago. Ants have mastered the diverse environments in which they thrive, all without science, and without explicit awareness. 3
Some ant species have even challenged human populations. In 1518 and 1519 Spanish colonists of Hispaniola were so overwhelmed by stinging ants that many families abandoned their homes. The horrified colonists, needing someone to plead with God on their behalf, used a lottery to select a patron saint, St. Saturninus, a third-century martyr, and they held a procession and feast to deter their tiny assailants.4 Rather than attempting divine intervention, the ants used more effective strategies against the humans, but the infestation did subside over a period of years. 5
This appeal to a saint for divine protection suggests important differences between ants and humans. Ants don’t have systems of belief such as religions, or diverse forms of art from music to sculpture. Humans
write books about ants, but ants don’t write about us, or indeed about anything. Ants don’t complain about working conditions and start unions or establish political parties. They don’t sing operas, form heavy metal accordion bands, or talk about the weather and organize picnics (although they may attend them). Of course, ants don’t talk at all. Ants may die doing what humans might describe as defending their nests, but they don’t get medals. The idea of an ant hero sacrificing her life in the way a human may for a belief doesn ’t make sense in their way of life. Humans, in contrast, live for beliefs and die in the name of causes. Aspects of human cultures from the Egyptian pyramids to Stonehenge to the carved cedar memorial poles of the Haida of Haida Gwaii don’t seem to be essential for physical survival, and yet they somehow are vital for the belief systems people depend on. Status, traditions, family crests, and how others think about us are foundational aspects of being human, yet they seem to be missing in other species. Humans have diverse cultural belief systems we live in social worlds based on justifications; we give each other reasons for our action. We are a story-telling species; we need purpose and meaning in our lives.6 We have histories. We reflect on the past, and wonder about the future, whereas ants live only in the present. Although we can describe their activity as preparing for the winter, that form of awareness is not needed for their lives. Ants have what we might describe as brutal campaigns against their neighbors but they don’treflect on the morality of these raids, whereas we humans may. What are these differences due to?
Perhaps being human has to do with self-awareness. Jeremy’ s son, Max, was 8, when he asked the fascinating question: “Do animals know they are alive?” Of course, other animals are alive, but they do not seem to be aware of this in the way that humans are. We humans know we are alive. Can we explain how humans a part of nature have evolved to the point of being aware of themselves and of nature? The Dutch poet Cees Nooteboom put it in a way that has been familiar to developmental psychologists since the 1920s, and within Tibetan Buddhism:7 “We are nature’ s method of thinking about itself.”8 Humans, it seems, are the only life form on this planet, the only part of the universe as far as we know, that is aware of itself.
This self-awareness means that humans are most likely the only species on the planet with the understanding that we are alive, and, therefore, can become aware of the implication of this knowledge, which is that we will die. This awareness of the future and of our death is the knowledge that got humans kicked out of the blissful ignorance of Eden.9 Knowledge of others’ view of ourselves is shown in the biblical story of the Garden of Eden, with its roots in The Epic of Gilgamesh, 10 a
4000 year-old poem from ancient Mesopotamia. This serves as a metaphor for the implications of our self-awareness and of humans’ eternal quest to avoid death. Our ability to imagine the future can potentially fuel our search for purpose and meaning in life. Humans are a species with the ability to ask questions about where we come from, and we need stories to provide a secure, comfortable place for us in the otherwise inhospitable and overwhelmingly vast universe. 11
We argue that an understanding of the “self” develops within social relations through becoming aware of others’ view of ourselves. This makes us so vitally concerned with how other people think about us others’ respect is important for our sense of who we are. We live in webs of interpersonal commitment to each other based on trust. Our friendships and relationships are fundamental to our lives. We construct identities around how others view us. We have selves in the sense that we can reflect on ourselves from others ’ perspectives. Pet owners might claim that their animals also have selves, but although they may be selves in the sense of having particular ways of acting and interacting a personality, in a way they don ’t have selves in the sense of being self-aware. This, we argue, develops through taking others ’ perspectives. We develop as persons because we grow up being treated as someone rather than something. 12
We focus on the differences in the ways in which ants and humans learn to live within radically differing environments because to understand what it is to be human, to recognize the human mind, it is vital to notice the crucially different ways in which ant societies and those of other species work compared to human social groups.
We both come from a school of developmental psychology which holds that human social interaction is the key to what makes us human. We contend that the differences between our species and ants are a consequence of the nature of our social relations. The ability to master these social processes leads each of us as individuals to develop a human mind. You might think that other species also interact with each other, but there is an important difference. Ants follow trails marked by pheromones, chemical signals, left by other individuals, but laying a trail does not require understanding how others respond to the chemicals left behind. This simple form of communication has made possible the incredibly complex organization in the societies of social insects. Although we can also see this form of unintentional communication in human interaction, most human communication works in a crucially different way. We are aware of the meaning that our actions or words have for other people. Of course, misunderstandings do occur, requiring repairs to achieve mutual understanding. Such
awareness of how others understand us is not necessary, or at all in evidence, for the forms of communication used by ants and many other species. It is difficult to convey the importance of this difference and its far-reaching consequences.
It is this awareness of others’ view of us that we are concerned with in this book. We focus on how such awareness originates, and we are interested in what humans can do with this form of communication that arises first, and gradually, in social interaction.13
Many other animal species are skilled at engaging with their world in flexible and intelligent ways. Ravens, chimpanzees and many other animals can be very adept in that sense. Humans, however, are able to engage in reflective thought. This adds an additional level of complexity through which to engage with the world. Thinking and language are so much a part of our everyday experience that we are apt to overlook what they are and how we use them to acquire such a sophisticated system of self-re flection and communication. Indeed we only reflect on this when scientists (or children) ask difficult questions. Our ways of thinking and interacting with each other are so natural that they are difficult to notice. One skill of novelists and artists is to reveal the signi ficance of those everyday experiences the importance of aspects of our world that are right before our eyes. We take it that it is the role of scientists to bring to our attention what was always there, but overlooked. The neglected issue that we are bringing forward is the nature of the human mind and its capacity for perceiving and reflecting on the world. We focus particularly on the significance of the everyday interactions between babies and their caregivers for the development of human communication and thinking. In Gregory Bateson ’ s words:
It is as if the stuff of which we are made were totally transparent and therefore imperceptible and as if the only appearances of which we can be aware are cracks and planes of fracture in that transparent matrix. 14
Once we are aware of the problems, it is no small task to explain the human mind. As Alexander Pope15 asked:
Could he, whose rules the rapid Comet bind, Describe or fix one movement of his Mind? Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, Explain his own beginning, or his end?
(“Essay on Man,” Epistle II)
The level of self-awareness achieved by humans has many consequences for how we understand our lives, but the task we take on in this book is to explain how this awareness develops. If we are right that crucial human forms of thinking develop within our relationships with others then there are many parts to the story that we have to provide. As developmental psychologists we have to document closely how children acquire these skills. What are the conditions, the ingredients, and processes which make this possible? We will describe the developmental niche, the biological, social, and emotional cradle, in which human babies grow up. 16 In order to do so we must be clear about the foundations on which our approach is built.
Assessing our assumptions
The end may hang on the beginning.
Beryl Markham17
Beryl Markham was actually referring to the dangers of flying fabric covered biplanes across Africa in the early part of the twentieth century, but the same lesson also applies to doing good science. It is essential to be careful regarding the unexamined assumptions on which theories are built. In attempting to explain human thinking, theorists often fail to notice the assumptions they start from, yet these preconceptions already set up the problems and even constrain the possible answers. The unnoticed assumptions that are part of the fabric of contemporary debate are an awkward obstacle that we must overcome in presenting our view of the nature of human forms of life and thinking. Although psychology prides itself on being an empirical science, the starting points for theories are, in fact, sets of preconceptions or philosophical assumptions; there is nothing empirical about them. These are sometimes termed worldviews because they represent particular perspectives. We see these as the first step and the one that we don’t even notice.18 But it is that step which sets us on a particular path and commits us to the end point.
Attempts to explain human thinking can be grouped into two contrasting types of approaches that are based on different worldviews. One of these frameworks begins with the individual mind as taken for granted. If it is assumed that the mind is there to begin with then, from this perspective, it is thought that children must face the problem of figuring out that other people that they see as bodies also have minds. In philosophy this is called “the problem of other minds.” It is thought to involve somehow overcoming the gap between the individual and others. We focus on this perspective in Chapter 5.
Individualistic approaches assume that individual minds are the starting point, which are required in order for social relations to be possible. And, therefore, the problem babies face is to learn how to communicate with others. This way of thinking can be seen in The Confessions of Saint Augustine, first published in 379 AD, and a best seller for over fifteen hundred years! This view is evident in Augustine’ s description of what he believed his life was like as an infant:
Gradually I became aware of my surroundings, and wished to express my demands to those who could comply with them; but I could not, since the demands were inside me, and outside were their fulfillers, who had no faculty for entering my mind. So I worked my limbs and voice energetically, trying to signal out something like my demands, to the best of my little (and little availing) ability.19
Of course, Saint Augustine, just like the rest of us, would not actually be able to remember his early life as an infant. Instead, his attempt to reconstruct his experience must be based on his adult assumptions about infant development. Augustine’ s account presupposes an adult way of thinking. It is as if he imagined that as an infant he had language and thinking skills, but had somehow ended up in a foreign country and could not yet speak the local language. 20 This was how he perceived his difficulty making himself understood.
There is a tendency for adults to take their own experience for granted and assume that babies are just like us. Adults have the experience of having a mind that seems to be private and it feels that it must have always been this way. So, we assume that babies are like this too they must be born that way. This tendency to project our adult way of experiencing the world onto babies has been termed adultocentric, 21 and this way of thinking is surprisingly common in theories. It would equate babies with adults, isolated in separate prison cells attempting to find some code with which to communicate between cells, such as tapping on the bars. This is the analogy used by the American philosopher, George Herbert Mead22 to point out the problem with this way of thinking. Adultocentric explanations are based on the workings of individuals’ minds (and so can also be referred to as internalist or mentalist). They begin with what Willis Overton calls a “split” between the mind and the world, in which the infant’ s mind works so that he or she can already reflect upon that world.23 But if the mind is assumed to start with, then a problem with this perspective is that it does not explain how the mind develops.24 And this is our task in this book.
In contrast, the second framework, which we endorse, does not begin with the individual mind, but instead with social processes. It, thus, explains the emergence of mind through this interaction. From this perspective, for interaction to begin it is not necessary that babies understand others as having minds. This can develop through social experience. This perspective is referred to as a relational or developmental systems approach. These contrasting frameworks emerge in the various areas covered in this book including views of knowledge, language, social development in infancy and childhood, as well as evolution.
As a clear example of this systems way of thinking, consider Donald Winnicott, the English pediatrician and psychoanalyst, who famously asserted that, “there is no such thing as a baby.” But we can see babies! So why did he make this baffling remark? Winnicott went on to clarify that, “if you set out to describe a baby, you will find you are describing a baby and someone ”25 He intended to draw our attention to the interconnectedness of infants and caregivers the fact that babies are totally dependent upon, and necessarily develop within, a few key relationships. This means that we must study the whole system in which the baby functions and develops the pattern changes as the infant becomes more skilled.
Not only do the patterns of interaction between babies and their parents or caregivers gradually change, infants learn about how their parents respond in particular contexts. From this simple beginning, forms of communication between babies and parents gradually become refined, leading to the complex exchanges we experience as adults.
The relational argument, in contrast to Saint Augustine’ s view, is that human minds emerge through interaction with other people. It explains mind and intelligence as the developmental outcome of these social processes that are rooted in the natural world of biological and physiological features we should not lose sight of the fact that humans are bodies in time and space.
The quotation from George Herbert Mead that we started this chapter with, that “ we are what we are through our relationships with others,”26 is not just some new age intuition. It is a tradition in philosophy and psychology that converges with recent work in developmental biology, neuroscience, cultural studies and feminist relational approaches, as well as some forms of cognitive science.27
If persons acquire the ability to engage in human forms of thinking within this social environment, then we also need to explain how this social-cultural niche evolved. This is a reciprocal (infant and caregiver contribute to the interaction) and bi-directional (both parties influence the other) developmental (both adapt to the other and change as a result)
and evolutionary process (we return to just what has evolved in Chapters 2 and 8). We explain human thinking as an emergent product of typical activity patterns. We believe that developing awareness of ourselves requires taking others’ perspectives toward our self. In this way we become aware of ourselves because of others’ reactions to us. That is, having a self depends on communication with others. This idea can be traced back to the philosophy of Socrates and other Greek thinkers, and to other cultures. For example, the Zulu expression “Umuntu, Ngumuntu, Ngabantu” (“ a person is a person through other persons ”) pervades African traditional thinking about human nature and formed the basis of the philosophy of Nelson Mandela. Umuntu is the practice of human interaction and this is related closely to “Ubuntu,” which is the sense of being or identity that emerges from social relatedness. Desmond Tutu explains that:
Africans have this thing called UBUNTU. It is about the essence of being human, it is part of the gift that Africa will give the world. It embraces hospitality, caring about others, being able to go the extra mile for the sake of others. We believe that a person is a person through another person, that my humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours. When I dehumanize you, I inexorably dehumanize myself. The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms and therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in belonging.28
Similar ideas about dependence on other people for becoming a person can be found in other cultures. For example, the Japanese kanji symbol for a person is a representation of one person being supported by another person, accentuating the idea of personhood in relation to others. And kanji symbols are derived from Chinese characters. This sort of a relational perspective is typical in indigenous cultures such as Canadian First Nations, and this extends to approaching justice through rebuilding healthy relationships. 29 Even though individualism is often dominant in Western scholarship there is also a theme concerning communities and social networks.30 A relational perspective can be found in some sciences. Ecology, for example, is focused on relations, and current biology and genetics are now relational, as we will discuss in Chapter 8. In fact, it could be argued that when we look closely enough at anything we see interrelationships.
An obstacle to explaining relational approaches is that they are sometimes not on readers’ conceptual maps. Perhaps this is because there are generally assumed to be two alternatives in explaining development:
either to focus on the individual and biological characteristics or, if that is questioned, to consider how the person is shaped by social forces. According to this second position it is “society, ” as represented by parents and teachers, which shapes young children. It is classically known as the socialization approach of social learning theory put forward in an extreme form by B. F. Skinner and in a more nuanced way by Albert Bandura. But it starts from the same problematic assumption as individualism, as both theories assume a split between self and other that we describe above either Augustine’ s self as an adult in an infant’ s body or learning theory’ s stress on external shapers of human skills. For them the question is which pre-existing part the individual or the environment is more important.
But, of course, everyone assumes interaction is essential so isn’t that the same as relationism? No, not quite. Relationism takes interaction a step further. It is a third option that holds that we must focus on the whole system consisting of babies and parents who look after them. This is a matrix in which biological characteristics and social relations are inextricably interwoven and mutually create each other. The action is in the relations between babies and their parents, and this shift to emphasize the developmental process makes a crucial difference. If we focus on such relations we see how they create the social and emotional world in which babies develop. Persons are developmental outcomes of this process.
We have a tendency to see just objects, instead of the relations between them. For instance, we see the airplane and the ground, but not the airflow around the wing. So, it is hard to understand how something as big as a Boeing 747 the size of an apartment building can fly. To see relations takes imagination, or a wind tunnel and smoke, in order to make the airflow around the wing visible. These general approaches are applied at all levels to all topics from neuroscience and evolution to meaning, language, and culture. And they result in very different answers to our question about the development of human thinking.
In presenting a relational account there is the danger that critics will jump to the conclusion that we disregard the importance of biology and evolution. Nothing could be further from the truth! In thinking about how human intelligence emerges from the social process we must think about genetics and neuroscience, as well as the evolved characteristics of infants and parents31 that make this process possible. Doing so means that it is essential to take development seriously. Filling in the evolutionary side to our story requires explaining how the social process starts. If human minds depend on particular forms of communication (not the other way around), then we have to explain how social
interaction develops. There is an evolutionary side to this story. From this perspective, what has evolved are biological characteristics of the infant that influence his or her social environment, and set the social process going in which communication and then mind and thinking can emerge. In part, the environment nurtures development and is social because babies need to be cared for. It is this essential point that we emphasize throughout this book. 32
Taking development seriously
We think that the tendency in recent cognitive science to take the adult mind as the model to be explained leads to dead ends. Instead it is necessary to approach the problem differently. As developmental psychologists, we observe the process of abilities being put together over developmental history. In the eloquent words of the psychologist Elizabeth Bates:
Looking at the adult end of that development, we can be overwhelmed (narcissists that we are) at the complexity and perfection of a symbol-using mind. But if we trace this marvel to its beginning in human infancy, we will see that this particular work of art is a collage, put together out of a series of old parts that developed quite independently. This does not make the achievement any less wonderful. But it does begin to make it more understandable.33
It is this understanding that we are after. We resist the tendency to look at the polished end product of the symbol using human mind, and instead we observe how these abilities gradually develop, how these skills are put together within interaction.
Bates goes on to remind us that if we are thinking about the evolution of a trait we do not have to assume that this is encoded in the genome.
Nature is a miser. She clothes her children in hand-me-downs, builds new machinery in makeshift fashion from sundry old parts, and saves genetic expenditures whenever she can by relying on highprobability world events to insure and stabilize outcomes. Looking at the beauty of her finished products, we often fail to see that they are held together with tape and safety pins.34
There may be expectable aspects of the environment that play a role in the development of a diverse range of human skills. One of these “high probability events ” in infants’ lives is other people. Not only is the environment that babies develop in vital for their survival, it is
necessarily social and serves as a wonderful medium in which they learn to become human.
Biology and development
What is it that produces such differences between humans and other species? Can human thinking be explained simply as determined by our genes? This is a continuing hot topic in the popular press. In a sense, genes must feature in any explanation. But they are only one factor among many others. DNA is a relatively inert molecule, not an active agent that can determine outcomes. Through complex cellular processes involving various forms of RNA (single strands of repeated amino acids), genes are an essential part of the process in the first step in constructing proteins. But they do not even provide the complete story in folding proteins and it is still a very long way from such molecules to thinking (see Chapter 8). Genes are a crucial factor in a cascade of additional levels of interacting factors that are involved in human development, but neither genes alone nor the chemistry involved in the firing of neurons will provide a complete story regarding the nature of a promise or why Charlie is a Tottenham Hotspur fan. What is also essential for the development of humans a critical part of the complex developmental system leading to human forms of thinking is other people. It is this developmental story that we will spell out in this book.
Could it be that our large brains account for the differences between humans and other animals? This is what we are often told in the popular press. Certainly, having a large and complex human brain is an essential and necessary ingredient in being human. But is this really the whole story? Can we understand the human mind by studying the brain alone? No, we don’t think so. Although it’ s important to understand how neurons work, this alone won ’t give us insight into what is essential about human experiences like the ability to make promises. This should be clear from a thought experiment that several developmental psychologists and philosophers have dwelt on, of having a baby grow up on a desert island. To make survival easier let’ s imagine such an island where all the material needs are miraculously available, but there is no human contact. Unlike Robinson Crusoe, marooned when he was already an adult with the ability to talk and think, we (and many others) would contend that a baby growing up without other people would not develop human forms of thinking. Just why we subscribe to this view will be inferred from the topics and issues that we discuss throughout this book. At this stage we can conclude that a focus solely on the brain as an explanation for thinking overlooks how neural connections must be
shaped through our interactions with the world of objects as well as other people. The development of an individual’ s thinking must be socially based.
One common fashion in cognitive science is to explain forms of thinking by claiming that they are innate or “hard-wired. ” Yet, this approach simply puts development in a “black box”—something left to others to explain. 35 It assumes that any explanation can be deferred an IOU. To make sense and help us it would need to explain how DNA molecules propel us into forms of thinking. They simply pass the buck, from psychology to biology, and a simplistic interpretation of the latter. It is someone else’ s problem, not our department. Although the idea of innate knowledge might seem new, it is actually an ancient notion with roots in philosophy.36 Decades ago, the Canadian psychologist, Donald O. Hebb, known for his work on how neurons form connections, chastised authors who made such claims.37 Hebb and his colleagues argued that anyone asserting that thinking is innate should feel an obligation, at the very least, to indicate how such a promissory note might be cashed in. The conclusion he reached is that claiming that something is “hardwired” may acquire some cachet as it appears to be a biological explanation. In fact, it is not. Furthermore, recent work in neuroscience does not support these claims. A biologically grounded explanation should try to begin uncovering the complex developmental story leading to human forms of thinking (see Chapter 8).
There are many forms of explanation. We argue that a developmental approach is vital. This is a detailed description of the emergence of forms of interaction. There are many levels of interacting factors in the developmental process going from molecules to minds (e.g., see Chapter 8).38 We wish to direct attention to the overlooked role of interacting with others in this process. So, for example, we will describe in Chapter 4 the gradual emergence of forms of gestural communication in infancy.39
Given that our argument is that a system of meaning on which thinking is based must necessarily arise in everyday interpersonal interactions, it follows from this that we must take a different approach to explaining how the mind evolved. Instead of resorting to explanations based on claims about getting from genes to neural circuits, we must broaden the scope of factors considered in the developmental system that facilitates or creates the human mind. Other people are vital in this process, because thinking is first social before becoming individual. Contemporary accounts of the constructive role of experience in neuroscience 40 and the ways in which genes interact in the environment41 converge with our position.
For example, in a recent summary of the subtle interplay between genes (the “genotype”) and the individual’ s experience (the “phenotype”) the geneticist Michael Meaney states that:
All cellular processes derive from a constant dialogue between the genome and environmental signals. Thus, genotype–phenotype relations are defined by the context within which the genome operates. Likewise, the consequences for Gene-Environment interactions at the level of function are defined by the broader context, including the demands of the prevailing environment. 42
The environment that humans experience is uniquely complex and social. From this perspective, we have to look at the necessary conditions in which human babies grow up that make the development of human forms of thinking possible. The way that humans’ particular embodiment might lead to reasoning has been the source of discussion for centuries. In a verse from the Progress of the Mind, Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of Charles Darwin, speculated on this topic.
Proud man alone in wailing weakness born, No horns protect him, and no plumes adorn; No finer powers of nostril, ear, or eye, Teach the young Reasoner to pursue or fly. Nerved with fine touch above the bestial throngs, The hand, first gift of Heaven! to man belongs; Untipt with claws the circling fingers close, With rival points the bending thumbs oppose, Trace the nice lines of Form with sense refined, And clear ideas charm the thinking mind, Whence the fine organs of the touch impart Ideal figure, source of every art; Time, motion, number, sunshine or the storm, But mark varieties in Nature’ s form. 43
In this verse, Erasmus Darwin, a physician as well as a poet, so beautifully described the way in which our biological foundations (our physical structure and basic behavioral repertoires) provide fundamental clues to human “being.” He suggested that it is the hand, the “first gift of Heaven,” that leads to “the thinking mind ” and is “the source of every art.” This idea began before Erasmus Darwin penned these words, and speculation about the role of the hand in thinking has continued to the present.44 Our manual dexterity enables us to manipulate objects. But, to
extend Erasmus Darwin’ s thinking, the same movements of finger and wrist also allow us to engage in early human communicative gestures such as showing or pointing. Other aspects of our embodiment (we orient our bodies towards objects and others, for example) are important for a complete explanation of human thought, but there is another phrase in the poem that we should reflect upon.
It is even more important to explain how it is that “man alone in wailing weakness born” develops the form of intelligence we see in humans but not other species. In fact, we believe that it is this very “wailing weakness” which sets up conditions for the development of communication, then language, and then a grasp of the mind and thinking. The helplessness of human infants guarantees a social niche for development, a protective and supportive social environment formed by parents or caregivers. Their care in response to babies’ wailing provides the seed from which communication can develop. Crying means something to parents the baby is uncomfortable in some way and the response is to comfort and interact with the infant. The meaning of such parenting gestures is conveyed even though at first infants are not aware of their cries being the impetus for this interaction.
We should be clear that not all linguists, neuroscientists, and cognitive scientists would agree with what we have to say. Some cognitive scientists are happy with the claim that the computer makes a good model for understanding the mind, and that thinking is like computation or information processing. But science works through debate, and we will discuss flaws in the assumptions on which other approaches are based and how our view differs from others. In contrast to our view of what it is to be human and how human forms of thinking develop, other approaches to explaining the nature of human thinking begin from the individual. We examine and respond to such theories in Chapters 8–9.
Minds as machinery: Thinking as computation
One currently popular account of thinking is known as the computational theory of mind. This idea is that thinking is similar to what a computer does and involves the manipulation of mental symbols that refer to the world. We focus on it here, because it permeates popular discussion so much that many researchers take its assumptions as unquestioned truths. This view is most widely accessible to a general audience through books such as Steven Pinker’ s provocatively entitled How the Mind Works. 45 Pinker, a professor of psychology at Harvard University, exemplifies the view that thinking is computation, and furthermore that the mind is made up of a series of devices that perform
computation. He takes this a step further in claiming that these computational devices are specified by our genes and have evolved over evolutionary time to solve the problems our ancestors faced when surviving with a hunting and gathering way of life.
We disagree with Pinker’ s claims about “how the mind works.” We don’t think it works that way, and this book is alternative to Pinker’ s views. Although a biological and evolutionary side to the story is clearly required, we believe that the assumptions explicit in this position regarding the nature of human thinking are flawed and we provide alternatives. The core assumption that we reject is that thinking is computation or information processing. The further claims about evolution then follow from that point, although these claims are not so widely held. Evolution must clearly be an important part of any story, but the position exemplified in Pinker’ s writing is only one possible application of evolutionary theory. Moreover, this application only follows if the assumptions he starts with regarding the nature of the mind are accepted. If we are right that these assumptions are fundamentally flawed, then the implications based on them collapse. Again, we do not question the importance of evolutionary theory and neuroscience; rather, we question the result of linking these approaches to the assumption that the mind works like a computer the computational view of the mind.
Why do we object to the claim that “the brain processes information, and thinking is a kind of computation”? This might appear to be a simple and straightforward statement. However, there is an immediate problem because it conflates two quite different meanings of “information.” It could be correct to say that light hitting the lens of a camera and being recorded as an image carries information. However, the word information is also used in a second sense to talk about a person seeing something and knowing about it. The problem is that the camera doesn ’t know anything whereas the person does. It is the person knowing something that we have to explain. 46 This problem tends to be overlooked due to the sleight of hand in using the same word information but in two radically different ways. Doing this glosses over the very real problem that requires an explanation.
Computers, or books, can be used to store massive amounts of information, in one sense of the word, but they still don’t know anything. They require a person to make sense of this information, to interpret and to understand this “information.” The person using the computer provides meaning to the input and the output. The computer itself doesn’t know or understand anything. So, if the computer is to serve as a model or metaphor for the mind then we also need to include the person
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camp the picture of offended dignity He himself had not brought even so much as a sweet potato, so that we were the more abrupt in our refusal. After his departure some of his elders and the Wandorobbo stayed with us for an hour or so for a chat. They gave us the general news of the district, and among other items of more or less doubtful veracity, they included an impossible yarn about some cannibal dwarfs who had visited Maranga since our stay in that place. They described them as “watu wafupi sana” (“very short men”), and indicated, by holding their hands that distance above the ground, that they were about four feet in height. They further stated that these dwarfs came to Maranga to buy people that they might eat them. We cross-examined them closely, for we did not at all believe their story. They were asked where these dwarfs came from. That question rather stumped them, but after a few moments’ cogitation they hit on the furthest place they could think of. “They came from beyond Mombasa!” said they.
On receiving this reply, we were convinced that the story was a pure fabrication, and said as much. They only smiled and changed the subject. We inquired at Maranga afterwards, and were confirmed in our opinion as to their untruthfulness. It is very strange that they should find so much amusement in such senseless and purposeless lies, though, to be sure, the practice is not wholly confined to the African native.
It rained hard all night, and the whole of the next day, so that travelling was impossible. We spent the day playing dominoes, going outside at intervals to watch the sheep die, and to grumble at our bad luck. It rained also all the next night and the greater part of the next morning; but it cleared sufficiently at midday to enable us to proceed. We therefore made a three-hour march and again camped. The clay paths were very steep and extremely slippery after the rain, causing us no small amount of trouble, while the sick and wearied sheep stumbled about in a most distressing manner.
After we had camped, I and the guide went on ahead for an hour or two in order to prospect the morrow’s road. To my great delight I saw Doenyo Sabuk, away in the distance to the south-east, and further to the south I saw the summits of the hills behind Nairobi,
which lay rather less than sixty miles away It seemed very strange to me to reflect that I was standing in the heart of Kikuyuland amid a would-be hostile people, to all intents and purposes as far away from civilization as if I was at the North Pole, and where at any moment a dispute over a stolen sheep would resolve itself into a desperate and pitiless fight for life; while there, scarcely sixty miles away, and on this side of the range of hills which seemed so near, lay Nairobi with its houses, its railway workshops, locomotives, Baboo clerks and ticket collectors, and all the varied and busy life of a modern colonial town.
During the night it rained again, and killed off some more of the sheep. We started early in the morning in the hope of reaching Maranga the same day, a hope, however, we did not realize.
The A’kikuyu made themselves rather obnoxious on the road, and one or two shots were fired by our men. A calf and sheep were stolen, the thieves getting clear away with their booty into the thick bush. If we had let the matter pass we should have had further trouble on the next march, so when we camped we sent for the chief of the district. When he appeared we informed him of the circumstance, and intimated at the same time that we should like to see him stay in our camp until the stolen property was restored. This apparently did not at all coincide with his ideas, as he immediately made a dash for liberty, meanwhile shouting to his warriors, of whom there were a great number in the camp, who disappeared into the surrounding bush like shadows. We had, however, anticipated just such a move on his part, and at a signal from us, Barri, the Somali, seized the chief and secured him, and I was under the painful necessity of handcuffing him to the tent-pole and putting a sentry over him. He then took quite a different view of the case, and despatched messengers, whom we had allowed into camp for that purpose, to the people who had stolen our animals. An hour or two afterwards the messengers returned with the missing beasts, and they were handed over to us with profuse apologies. We thereupon released the chief, telling him not to do it again, though, as a matter of fact, he did not know of the theft till we ourselves so abruptly informed him of it. We could not, however, but hold him responsible
for any indiscretion committed by his people. On his release, in order to show him that we bore no malice, we presented him with a bead necklace and a coloured cloth, and asked him to bring us some sweet potatoes and yams, and anything else in the vegetable line that he might wish to present to us, which he promised to do. He accordingly returned in the evening with a supply of vegetables and a dark brown fat-tailed Kikuyu sheep as a present. In return we presented him with a couple of Rendili sheep, with which he was delighted.
The chief informed us that Maranga was only one march away and that the road was good, and, in addition, he himself would accompany us thither, in order to prevent any more of our property being stolen. He was as good as his word, and at eight o’clock the next morning we resumed our journey. Just before we started I took a photograph of Mount Kenia as it lay fully exposed to view in the half-light of the early morning of a dull day. The result is not all that could be desired, but it will give a very fair idea of the aspect of the mountain from the south-west.
We found the road as steep and slippery as on the previous day, and it tried the animals exceedingly. For that reason we made a short march and camped at half-past ten.
Soon after the tents were pitched, our old friend Manga and his son Koranja appeared. They had heard of our approach and had come to meet us. They greeted us very heartily, expressing delighted surprise at our safe return. We spent the rest of the day in discussing the news with them.
During the afternoon the chief of the surrounding district who answered to the name of Simba (lion), came into camp, and, following the example of his neighbour, our friend of yesterday, brought with him a sheep and some vegetables as a present. He received a couple of Rendili sheep in return, and we parted with mutual good wishes.
The next morning we marched straight into Maranga and camped beside a brook, which ran into the Tana about half a mile further down. Owing to the heavy rains we surmised that there would be a
lot of water in the Tana; even in this small brook the water was breast high, with a current almost powerful enough to sweep one bodily away. The natives affirmed that it would be impossible to cross the Tana for at least three weeks, and perhaps longer. Accordingly after lunch I went on to the Tana accompanied by two men, in order to see for myself. My first view of the river was a revelation. It was extraordinarily high, the constant heavy rains having greatly swelled its volume; and it is not a small river at any time. The ford was under six feet of water, with a muddy brown current swirling and eddying past at a speed of between four and five miles an hour It would have been utterly impossible to cross with our loads and animals until the flood had considerably subsided, and meanwhile the rain showed no sign of ceasing. I returned to camp thoroughly dispirited.
On the way back I passed a magnificent waterfall which I had not previously heard of. The whole volume of the river roared and tumbled in great masses of foam over the naked black rock, plunging down some twelve or fifteen feet in a yeasty smother, accompanied by a thunderous roar which effectually precluded any attempt at conversation in the immediate vicinity. At the foot of the fall the water boiled and swirled in a great pool. Waves several feet high were thrown against each other by the violence of the water, which was seemingly gathering strength for its fierce mad rush through the only outlet from the pool, a narrow channel with perpendicular sides, and about 60 feet across, cut through the solid rock. Large rugged trees hung over the falls and round the edges of the pool, their leaves dripping moisture from the hissing clouds of spray cast high in the air upon every side, the whole forming a scene of savage grandeur, wonderfully impressive, and not easily forgotten.
CHAPTER XXI. (CONCLUSION.)
FROM THE RIVER TANA TO NAIROBI.
Arrival at the Tana river A visit to M’biri Crossing the Tana Smallpox I give Ramathani a fright Peculiar method of transporting goods across the river practised by the Maranga Kati drowned The safari across M’biri Disposal of the sheep
We resume the march The Maragua once more The ThikaThika The swamps Kriger’s Farm Nairobi
Early the next morning we sallied forth from our tents and spent an hour and a half in the water of the brook, getting the sheep across. They were unable to face the stream, and each separate animal required to be passed across from hand to hand, the labour involved being very great. We then went on to the Tana and camped beside the ford. In the afternoon we got our Alpine rope out, and with considerable trouble and some risk succeeded in getting one end of it across the river and made fast to a tree on the opposite bank, Jumbi with two or three other men and myself swimming across the river for the purpose.
It was not until I was actually in the water that I realized the tremendous power of the current. We had to go a long way up stream before plunging in, as the swift current carried us rapidly down river, and, but for this precaution, would have swept us past the only landing-place on the other side. This made rather a long swim of it. I was horribly afraid of the presence of crocodiles, but fortunately they were conspicuous by their absence.
When at last, after many failures, we had got the rope across, it was not of much assistance, as the water was too deep for the porters, and the animals would not face it alone on any consideration. Another circumstance which added to our difficulties
was there being only one landing-place on the opposite bank, a little gully about four feet wide in the steep bank, made by the hippopotamus who formerly came ashore here to feed, and afterwards widened by natives using the ford. If by mischance anybody had been swept past this landing-place they would almost certainly have been drowned, as there was no other place to land for a long way down the river.
Failing a bridge, our chances of getting across the Tana for another month were very slender, and as I was anxious to reach Mr. Hall’s station at M’biri in order to get a few newspapers, some tobacco, and provisions, I sent word to the chief’s son, Koranja, that I required a couple of guides. These he had great difficulty in procuring, the natives declaring that it was impossible to cross the river. However, on the promise of a heavy reward of cloth, I prevailed upon two of the Maranga natives to accompany me. We three then swam the Tana together, with my clothing done up in small bundles on our heads. I was unable to get my rifle across, so I went without it. Once on the other side, I dressed as speedily as possible, and we set off at a good pace for M’biri.
We reached the Marathwa, another fair-sized river, an hour later, which necessitated stripping again. The crossing safely accomplished we resumed our apparel, and set off once more, reaching the station at midday, after a couple of hours’ rough tramp over the hills.
Mr. and Mrs. Hall were away shooting for a day or two, but Captain Longfield, who was in charge of the troops, made me very welcome. He invited me to stay with him until Mr. Hall’s return, an invitation I gladly accepted. I sent the two guides back to the camp with a supply of newspapers and provisions, and then sat down with Captain Longfield to one of the most satisfactory luncheons I have ever enjoyed. It was such a pleasing change to eat once more from earthenware plates, with a real white tablecloth and glass tumblers on the table, and a properly furnished cruet-stand. It is only after one has been separated for a time from the minor conveniences of civilization that one discovers how much they contribute to one’s comfort.
One of the most peculiar effects of our late experiences was noticeable when I retired to rest that night. It was the new and strange sense of security. It seemed so utterly unbelievable that I could go to sleep and sleep as soundly as I liked, without fear of being rudely disturbed by hostile natives, or by prowling beasts of prey. It was positively difficult to realize at first.
On the afternoon of the second day of my stay at the station Mr. and Mrs. Hall returned. Mr. Hall had done wonders with the station during the short time (about two months) that he had been established there. A very large and solid stone wall surrounded the various buildings and offices, and a ditch had been dug outside, making it, perched as it was on the summit of a hill, a very strong and secure position. The huts were lofty and well built, and in the centre of the compound a large and handsome flagstaff carried the flag of the East African Protectorate.
Next morning I returned to our camp on the Tana, where I found that El Hakim and George had succeeded in getting a good many of the sheep across, having employed a number of the Maranga to swim them over, two men to one sheep—a very slow process at best. The river had fallen a few inches, but it would need to fall at least another foot before the men could attempt the passage with their loads.
The day after, as the river was still falling, we got the remainder of the sheep to the other side. Almost before they were across, the river commenced to rise again, and consequently we could not attempt to move the cattle or loads.
In the afternoon about seventy Wakamba, driven northwards by famine, came to the opposite bank of the river and attempted to cross over to Maranga by means of our rope. They were extremely emaciated, and so weak that three or four of the first dozen were washed away from the rope and drowned. Suddenly the Maranga who were watching them raised a shrill cry of “Ndui! Ndui!” (smallpox), and rushing at those of the Wakamba who had already landed, they drove them into the water and across the river again. It seemed hard to repulse the poor starving wretches, but the Maranga have
already suffered so heavily from the small-pox that they had no wish to repeat the experience. There were quite a dozen of the Wakamba in an advanced stage of confluent small-pox. From our camp we could hear them moaning and wailing all night, for several nights. In the daytime they used to come down to the only place at which they could reach the water, a large flat rock a little way up stream, which was just awash, where they would sit for hours laving themselves with the cool water.
Three days later, on November 22nd, we found that the river had gone down some six inches, and we made a determined effort to get the loads and cattle across.
Stripping to my shirt, I swam across the river to superintend operations at the landing-place on the opposite bank, I took four or five men, and we stood in the water up to our breasts, under the bank, where the current was a little less violent, and took the loads from the porters, who were exhausted by their struggle with the powerful current, as they brought them across. Young Koranja annoyed me by bringing my camera across under water, but then he was not very tall, and consequently received a ducking every time the rope surged. If he had not had my camera, I should have been highly amused at his predicament.
The better to shout instructions across the river, I climbed a large tree that grew on the bank, its topmost branches hanging out over the water for some yards. I found such a comfortable seat in the fork, about twelve feet above the surface of the water, that I stayed there for awhile to rest after the laborious work at the landing-place, and also to get a bird’s-eye view of all that was going on.
Presently I heard some one swimming, with much puffing and blowing, down the river, and almost underneath me. Peering through the leafy screen that surrounded me, I saw that Ramathani, though evidently in mortal terror, had at last faced the river, and was swimming slowly and cautiously down stream to the landing-place. The current was bringing him directly under my perch, though he had not observed me, and I derived much amusement from the anxious expression on his usually calm and expressionless visage. As he
passed underneath something suddenly impelled me to jump out of the tree, and I did so, landing with a terrific splash right upon my unfortunate servitor. He gave a fearful shriek, which was almost instantaneously stifled in a gurgle as he disappeared beneath the surface. When he came up again his face wore such a look of terror that I half repented of the joke. The way his face changed when he found me swimming quietly by his side, smiling cheerfully, was a perfect study in expression.
“Oh, it was you, Bwana?” he gasped out. “I thought it was an afreet” (devil) “or a kiboko” (hippopotamus).
I then challenged him to a race across the river, but he declined, though ordinarily he was a good swimmer. He had had enough of the water for one day, he said.
When I got down to the landing-place, I found that most of the loads were across, our men having been reinforced by some of the Maranga. These natives disdained the rope, and, strange to say, though many of them could not swim, they could carry a 60 lb. load across a ford 6 feet deep, though their own height rarely exceeded 5 feet 6 inches, and usually a great deal less. They surmounted the difficulty in a rather ingenious manner, which at the same time required no small skill.
They held the loads over their heads the full length of their arms, and then walked into the river, some little distance up-stream. When they got out of their depth they walked on the bottom, giving a jump which brought their heads above water, when they wanted to breathe. The heavy load held above their heads enabled them to keep steady, in an upright position, in the swift current. They consequently crossed the river in a series of jumps, the current meanwhile carrying them down stream, while between the jumps they walked a step or two towards the other side. It was a very curious sight from the bank to see a large box or a rolled-up tent, clasped by two black hands, apparently crossing the river of its own accord. Our own men would not attempt this method at any price.
The loads were got across before midday, but it was extremely hard and hazardous work, one of our best men, an N’yamwezi
named Kati, being unfortunately washed away and drowned.
In the afternoon, all the loads being across, George and I and a dozen of the men unshipped the rope, and taking it further upstream, we prepared to get the cattle and donkeys across. After chasing away the small-pox patients, we took up our station on the flat rock already mentioned, as it was the most suitable place that we could find, at which to land the cattle. By means of our old device of tying a rope round the necks of the animals and hauling them bodily across, we safely accomplished the task, though the labour was enormous. Several of the cows were nearly drowned, and after we had hauled them out of the water, lay on the rock to all appearance dead. Some one suggested that perhaps artificial respiration would facilitate their recovery, but as neither George or I knew how to perform artificial respiration on a cow, we were unable to put it to the proof. They eventually recovered without such aid, and rising slowly and with difficulty they walked away, though I must confess that they were very groggy on their pins.
At nine o’clock next morning, having thus, after a delay of only eight days, safely negotiated the Tana, we started on our final march to Nairobi. We crossed the Marathwa below M’biri, where it was breast deep and very swift, camping on the opposite bank. We stopped there four days, during which time we sold the sheep to some Somalis who had a store just outside the Government station.
El Hakim went on a visit to Mr. Hall, and stayed a day or two with him. I took to my blankets on the third day with a slight touch of fever, which, considering that I had practically lived in the water for four days, was not surprising.
On the morning of November 27th, we broke camp and resumed our march, exceedingly thankful that we were no longer handicapped on the march by the presence of the sheep. I was still rather shaky after my touch of fever, so I rode the big mule for the first time since leaving the Green Camp on the Waso Nyiro. The next day we reached the Maragua, where we found a rough bridge, which had been constructed by Captain Skene, who was on his way to M’biri to relieve Captain Longfield. The latter had been ordered to Kismayu to
take part in the Ogaden Somali Expedition which was to avenge Major Jenner’s murder. We crossed safely, and camped on the other side. Three cows were stolen during the afternoon by the A’kikuyu, but we sent Jumbi and half a dozen men immediately in pursuit, and they recovered them without difficulty.
Four days later we reached the river Thika-Thika. Congoni once more appeared on the scene, and we were able to shoot several for food, and I also secured a roan antelope, the first we had seen during the trip. Besides congoni there were numbers of zebras, wildebeeste, wart-hog, grantei, and thompsonei; and George and I, taking turns with the shot-gun, managed to secure some guineafowl, and occasionally a wild duck.
Very heavy rain the night before we reached the Thika-Thika delayed us a little. We reached the river at midday and found it full of water, but the current was comparatively sluggish. We saw a couple of hippo, and any number of crocodiles.
At a place where a fallen tree projected some way over the water we constructed a rude bridge, resting the centre of the structure upon a small island in the stream. It was not beautiful to look upon, neither was it over strong; but it sufficed, and during the afternoon the whole safari crossed by its means. The cattle were driven further down the river to a spot where the banks shelved somewhat, and they were then swum across, luckily without interference from any too inquisitive crocodiles.
The next day was George’s turn to have a touch of fever, which, though slight, made him very uncomfortable. We were now entering a very marshy piece of country, traversed by numerous rivers and streams, which drained into the Athi River.
Congoni were again numerous, and we were able to shoot sufficient meat to feed the men. The congoni is remarkably tenacious of life, one beast in particular giving me a lot of trouble. I put two ·303 soft-nosed bullets into it; and although one hind leg was broken, and it was also badly wounded in the shoulder, it made off at a good speed. Taking the Martini, I followed it, and, when it once more stopped, I put a Martini bullet into it from behind, at a hundred-yards’
range. The bullet struck it in the hind quarters, and ploughed its way through almost the whole length of the animal’s body. The beast was unable to advance, but still kept its feet; and as I was unwilling to waste another cartridge upon it, I walked up to it and threw it down by seizing its horns and jerking its head sharply sideways, but not until its throat was cut did it expire.
On December 5th we reached a papyrus swamp, about two hundred yards wide, but apparently continuing indefinitely east and west, so that we could not march round it. The men, therefore, were sent to cut a path through it, and by laying the cut reeds and a quantity of branches of trees across the roots a precarious roadway was constructed, perfectly practicable for the men and loads, but impossible for cattle. Jumbi, who was sent out prospecting for a suitable place to get the cattle across, returned in the evening, having discovered a place some miles away, which he thought they might safely negotiate. Accordingly, before sunrise next morning, he was sent with the cattle to make the attempt, while the porters and loads crossed by the temporary path we had constructed the day before. It was rather ticklish work, as in some places there was over six feet of water under the reeds, we having to depend for support on the elasticity of the cut reeds laid transversely across the roots, the weaker places having been strengthened by the addition of branches and brushwood well trodden down.
Jumbi was perfectly successful in getting the cattle across, and they were on the other side of the swamp and opposite us some time before all the men had crossed; but we were all across by ten o’clock, and, resuming our nether garments, we proceeded. In an hour we had reached a narrow river, flowing swiftly between two upright walls of rock. A mile up-stream we discovered a crossingplace at a spot just above a magnificent waterfall. This fall was quite 100 feet deep, and the water foamed and splashed into one of the most beautiful glens imaginable. We did not stop to admire the scenery. Personally, I was perfectly willing to exchange the prettiest bit of scenery thereabouts for a sight of the Nairobi Post Office.
After we had left the river a few miles behind, we were confronted by another wretched papyrus swamp. Yesterday’s experience was
repeated, a road having to be constructed in precisely the same manner. It was not finished till sunset, so we camped for the night. It rained hard in the evening, and during the night the mosquitos drove us nearly frantic.
The next morning we crossed the swamp. It was rather deeper than the other, and we had to strip to the “altogether” in order to get across; the reeds often giving way under our weight, letting us down with a splash into the ice-cold, dirty water. We got across, however, without any serious mishap, and resuming our clothing we again went on.
Three quarters of an hour later we struck yet another swamp. Off came our clothes once more, and we waded it breast deep. The water was very cold, and unspeakably stagnant and filthy. It took us an hour to get across. Half an hour’s march further on, another swamp appeared. Once more we had to strip and wade. This one was not so cold, as the sun was by this time well up, and moreover the water was cleaner; but there were a lot of horrible flies, like horseflies, which bit most ferociously, and attacked every unprotected portion of our anatomy, drawing blood at every bite. However, that was the last of the swamps, and by four o’clock in the afternoon we reached our old camp near Kriger’s farm, only seven miles from Nairobi.
We camped for the night, and the following morning George and I started for Nairobi. We left El Hakim in camp, as he wished to go over and see Kriger during the morning. George and myself, with the bulk of the men, therefore started on our seven-mile tramp. On the way we critically examined each other, and a more ragged pair of scarecrows one would not wish to see. The sole of one of my boots had parted from the upper and flapped as I walked, while George lacked a sole altogether on his left boot, and was walking on his sock, which soon wore through, causing him so much inconvenience as to materially impede our progress.
Such trifles, however, were unable to damp our ardour as we tramped along in the direction of Nairobi. Each well remembered spot recalling some incident or other. Here was the place where I fell
into the river the second night out. Further on was the clump of trees where I shot the guinea-fowl, and beyond that, again, was the gamepit which had bidden fair to put a summary end to my career over six months before. What hardships they seemed at the time, though subsequent events had dwarfed them into insignificance. Even our stirring experiences on the Waso Nyiro and our long weeks of anxiety in Kikuyuland seemed to suddenly recede into the limbo of the past. Everything else was forgotten in the intoxicating thought that at last we were almost home, and as we approached nearer to Nairobi a feeling of elation impossible to describe took possession of us. Pain, difficulties, anxieties—all were momentarily forgotten. Our emotions were shared by the men, and when the first galvanized roof appeared on the horizon a cheer broke forth, and we hurried forward at increased speed.
Presently the railway station hove in sight, and a locomotive shunting trucks in the goods-yard sent forth an ear-splitting whistle. Never was there such a musical sound as that erstwhile discordant speech. At length, to cut a long story short, we arrived, much to the surprise of our friends, who had heard that we had all been killed in Embe, the news of the Somali’s disaster having in some mysterious manner filtered through.
I have only once since experienced such a sense of relief as I felt on our arrival in Nairobi, and that is now, as I finish this account of our journey; and my only hope is that it will not have wearied the reader half as much as it wearied the writer.
Abdullah ben Asmani, 12
Abdallah Arahalli, 94
INDEX
Abdullah ben Selim, death of, 128
Aberdare Range, 3, 338, 342
A’kikuyu, assisted by the, 50; brawl with the, 60; return to the, 343; attempts at theft by the, 344; sheep stolen by the, 347; arrest of the chief of the, 348; steal three cows, 359
Aloes, 135, 160, 333
Ants, attacked by, 113; red, 158
Asmani ben Selim, 12, 324
Assala, 53
Athi river, 26; fishing in the, 27, 33, 35; in flood, 36; crossing the, 37
Baazi, 53
Baboons, 197, 249, 252
Baobabs, 79
Barri leaves the Somali camp, 276; is pursued, 277;
is attacked by his pursuers, 277; and shoots Ismail Robli, 278
Burkeneji, nomadic habits of, 163; first meeting with, 208; village of, 209; temerity of women of, 209; chief of, 210; belief in their weapons, 223; dress, 223; donkeys, 223; insolence of, 224; relations of, with the Rendili, 241
Camels, loss of the, 202; reappearance of, 300
Camp on fire, 171
Cannibals, rumour of, 346
Carl Alexander Falls, 46
Castor-oil plant, 59
Chanjei Hills, 87; character of people of, 87
Chanler, Mr. William Astor, F.R.G.S., 4, 88, 214, 226, 258, 265, 266
Chanler Falls, 203
Chiggers, 314, 329
“Cinder Heap”, 165
Congoni, 24; The tenacity of life of, 359
Coja ben Sowah, 12
Crane, crested, 35
Crocodiles, 50, 212, 247; immense size of, 254
Cumming, Gordon, 308
Dasturi, 331
Date palms, 175
Desertions, 20, 155, 259
Dhurra, 52
Dirito, 82; arrival at village of, 82; assists us to drive animals, 132; treachery of, 298
Docere ben Ali, 12
Doenyo Sabuk, 18, 24; in sight of once more, 347
Doenyo lol Deika, 136
Doenyo Ebor, 66
Doenyo Egere, 66
Donkeys, 16; troubles with, 25, 38; eaten by Wakamba, 137
Doti, measurement of a, 53
Doum palm, description of, 162
El Hakim, meeting with, 2; and the Tomori people, 86; robbery of goods of, 116; experiences with elephants, 142; shoots a rhinoceros, 185; bitten by a scorpion, 245; has a bright idea, 269; adventure with a lion, 292; shoots an elephant, 296
Elkonono, the, 315
Elephant, awkward meeting with an, 139; hunting, 142-146, 296, 303
Elephant’s foot, 301, 310
Elgeyo, 136; escarpment of, 137
Embe country, description of, 95; the retreat from, 103; explanation of reverse in, 110
Euphorbias, 333
Falls on the Tana River, 350
Falls, Chanler, 203
Falls, Carl Alexander, 46
Falls, Nairobi, 27
Falls, Sweinfurth, 46
Finlay and Gibbons, Messrs., disaster to, 17, 18, 57
Fire, difficulties with, 31; camp on, 171; grass, 188
Foa, Edward, F.R.G.S., 311
Forest, belt round Kenia, 84; acacia, 90; of North Kenia, 335
Formosa Bay, 4
Galla-land, 3
Game very numerous, 43; vast herds of, 150, 172, 191; scarcity of, 179; absence of, 201
Game-pit, adventure in a, 21
George joins the expedition, 18; takes a bath, 26; sickness of, 33; narrow escape of, 100; illness of, 115; drives hostile Wa’m’thara from camp, 134; adventure with a rhinoceros, 267; shoots a rhinoceros, 293
Giraffe hunt, 280, 285
Gilgil, 339
Gnainu, fight at, 118
Grant’s gazelle, good sport with, 294
Green Camp, 162, 188, 293
Gregory, Prof. J. W., D.Sc., 4, 180
Guinea fowl, 206
Hall, Mr., 49, 344
Hamisi ben Abdullah, 12; death of, 128
Hannington, the late Bishop, 137
Hannington, Lake, 136
Hippopotamus, 54, 255; an anxious moment, 261, 284, 287
Hohnel, Lieut. Ludwig von, 4, 213
Honey, 53
Hyænas, 296, 331
Igani, noisy reception in, 81
Imbe, entry into, 79; chief of, 79; audacious proposal of people of, 80
Impala, 296
Ismail Robli, 9; appearance of, 93; character of, 93; murders N’Dominuki’s nephew, 100; terror of, 106; refuses to return to Embe, 113; camped among the Rendili, 212; grief of, 217; letter to Nairobi of, 219; his invitation, 269; wounded by Barri, 288
Ivory, troubles of buying, 123, 129
Jamah Mahomet, 9; refuses to cross M’bu, 57; visit to, at Munithu, 83; appearance of, 93;
