The journey down river was less eventful than the one we had made the previous January; it commenced with an eight mile walk round the Mullale Rapid, while the steel barge, emptied of most of its contents, plunged and tossed like a small Noah’s Ark on the rushing river. The rest of the ‘bad water’ we negotiated in the barge ourselves, and some of it was quite exciting, the fall of the water being quite appreciable.
Christmas Day was spent on the river below Jebba, and on the 27th the familiar outline of the hulk at Mureji loomed large ahead, and we found ourselves among our old friends. We met Captain Mercadier, one of the French Commissioners of the Anglo-French Boundary Commission, on his way up to Bussa, which meeting was fortunate, as we were able to give him all necessary information about his journey and the transport arrangements made for him before we left. For this he expressed his gratitude with all the delightful courtesy so characteristic of our French neighbours, a courtesy we had more than once experienced in Borgu, where our Province marched with part of French Dahomey.
We paddled up the Kaduna in a steel canoe, slept at Dakmon, and in the morning mounted the horses sent for us and rode along the shady road winding away from the river and over the low hills to Bida.
The first instalment of our ‘welcome’ was a dainty breakfast on the road spread under the shady trees and greatly appreciated after a ten mile ride, and that disposed of, Mr. Lafone, the junior Resident, who had been in charge of the Province, arrived, escorting the Emir, accompanied by his ‘Court’ and, it seemed to us, most of the inhabitants of the city. It was an interesting meeting; one’s mind went instinctively back to the occasion of our last visit to Bida, when something of the same sort had happened, and one realized that five years in the placid lives of these simple people make little or no mark. But the Emir himself had aged very remarkably, having passed, seemingly, out of vigorous manhood into more than middle age, but his proportions were, if anything, more generous than ever, and his emotion and pleasure at seeing us was touching and sincere.
While ‘the Sahib,’ with his unerring memory for faces, that most precious gift, recognized and saluted the various officials of the Emir’s Court, I noticed unmistakable surprise mixed with the cordiality of the greeting offered to me. I suppose the dear souls had expected me to have been divorced or sold long ago!
After a few minutes’ chat with the European officers who had so kindly come out to welcome us, we all remounted and commenced the hot dusty ride to Bida, drums banging, horns braying, ‘praises’ shouted in hoarse stentorian tones, the usual dashing about of horsemen, and breathless rushing to and fro of the crowd on foot, a curious kaleidoscope of varied colours appearing and disappearing in the glittering haze of dust.
Though we both felt the sincerest pleasure and contentment with all things, it was a relief to all of us when the police guard of honour had been inspected, we had passed through the Residency Gateway and the gay crowd was wending light-heartedly towards the city, and we six white folks sat down in the cool bungalow, and gaily drank to ‘Bida and the New Year’ in cool and delicious champagne cup which our hosts had provided in honour of our arrival and the festive season.
We settled down at once in our new and comfortable quarters, which seemed actually luxurious after the mud houses of Borgu, and, when we had time to inspect the compound, found a great interest in noting the changes and improvements since our last visit. It was charmingly laid out and thoroughly well planted with orange, lime, and mango trees, showing every sign of care and interest, a thing extremely comforting to a gardener who had always struggled against ‘fearful odds’; an excellent lawn tennis court had been made of ‘native cement,’ formed in the first instance of mud patted and beaten to the solidity almost of stone, then washed over with a solution of locust beans, soaked in water for forty-eight hours, a dark-coloured evil-smelling mixture which served to bind all the loose particles on the court and gave it a black metallic shine. I, of course, found endless occupations in a field so desirable as my new home, while my husband bent all his energies to studying the different conditions of a new Province; in this work he had the most loyal help from every one, and I fancy that we shall always look back on our four months at Bida as a time instinct with warm friendship and good feeling.
The Residency stood considerably higher than the surrounding country, and I never tired of the picture from our verandah, where the city lay, about a mile distant, in a gentle hollow outlined by the pink wall, and crowded inside with dense and luxuriant trees and clusters of closely-set thatched roofs with, here and there, the more imposing buildings rising rosy-red among the humbler grass roofs.
We made close acquaintance with the market, which, in its way, interested me even more than that of Kano, being less extensive and so more accessible. It was always a pretty and animated scene, the open squares and spaces crowded at sunset with a dense throng of happy folks, selling, buying, chattering, shouting, and laughing, moving in a haze of dust, all apparently giving far greater heed to the social aspect of the gathering than any serious commercial enterprise. The market continued until long after dark, and the flares and native lamps made a weird and fascinating effect. The goods offered were of the most varied description, articles of brass and leather work, grass mats, fishing nets, cloth, beads, sugar-cane, and food-stuffs of all kinds—even wooden doors were for sale, ready to be fitted to any clay hut, in fact a highly representative collection of the heterogeneous miscellany presented in any West African market.
On January 25 occurred the ‘Great Sallah,’ a Mahomedan festival which appears to commemorate the Sacrifice of Isaac—a sheep being killed ceremonially on the occasion. We assembled ourselves outside the city wall, and, sitting under an improvised shelter, watching the seated thousands waiting patiently in the sunshine, it would not have seemed strange to me to see the Disciples passing down the irregular lines, distributing the loaves and fishes to the hungry listeners.
Presently the Limam’s voice rose clear and shrill, away in the distance, under the shade of a mighty tree where the Emir and his court had their places; the thousands rose to their feet, and as the sonorous Arabic pealed out on the hot still air, the prayers began. It was a wonderful and moving spectacle; the reverent responses rose from the assemblage like a muffled roar, but perhaps the most astonishing feature of all was the prostration when the huge throng fell on their faces as one man, reminding us of a vast field of corn swept by a sudden gust.
The prayers finished, we were conducted to the Emir’s seat, where special prayers were offered for us all, each being named in turn, strictly in order of precedence, not forgetting the High Commissioner and the two former Residents of the Province, Major Burdon and Mr. Goldsmith, both dearly loved and remembered.
The great Salla. (p. 189)
The Prostration. (p. 190)
Shortly after this festival our little community was reinforced by Mr. and Mrs. Bargery of the C.M.S. They occupied a large compound outside the city, and we all admired the business-like energy with which they settled down and ‘got square,’ turning two unattractive mud houses into a bright pretty home in an incredibly short time. The days slipped away, February drifted into March, and March into April, clouds began to gather in the hard blue sky, and lightning and distant thunder proclaimed the approaching rains; our thoughts turned towards ‘leave,’ and only one event, but that an important one for us, remained before we left Nigeria—the arrival of our new High Commissioner, Sir Percy Girouard, who had succeeded Sir Frederick Lugard. He arrived at Katcha on the Niger on April 13, where my husband was ready with two members of his staff, to receive him. About twenty of the highest officials of the Bida Court and their followers had been despatched also by the Emir as a mark of his fealty and loyalty to the Government. By all these, the High Commissioner was escorted to within ten miles of Bida, where the remainder of the European staff and the police guard of honour had assembled. The Emir, with the rest of his Court and five or six thousand followers, mounted and on foot, was also waiting to receive him, and accompany him triumphantly to the Residency. The cloud of dust raised by the horsemen was visible for three or four miles as they approached, so the High Commissioner must have had a choky time, to say the least of it! We did our best to induce him to remain for the night, but with his characteristic energy he determined to push on the same evening, and camp five or six miles further on, to the north of the town, towards Zungeru.
My husband’s leave had already been sanctioned, and, on mentioning the fact, his dismay can be imagined when Sir Percy Girouard apparently demurred, saying that all the senior officers appeared to be proceeding on leave directly he arrived! I need hardly say, however, that he would not hear of our remaining longer, as we had already completed eighteen months, and we therefore left Bida, as we had arranged on April 20.
It was, in truth, disappointing to have to come away at such an interesting stage in Nigeria’s development; a page was being turned in its history, the old order was changing, and the long projected railway was to become a solid fact, a change that could not fail to prove an immense advantage. Caravan trading, so far, had attracted all the energies of many thousands of the inhabitants, who had employed their time in lengthy journeys from the interior to the coast and back; with the railway in operation this anachronism would lose its raison d’être and gradually cease to exist; much greater numbers would then be available for cultivation, a gain of the highest importance, as the future prosperity of the country must depend greatly on its agricultural success, especially in the direction of cotton. As one who has watched its growth and steady advance during the last five years, I should like to close my book with the heartiest good wishes for the future success and advancement of the country we both love so well.