PREFACE.
These folk stories have been told to me by natives of the various countries to which they relate in the Ikom district of Southern Nigeria. In all cases they have had to be translated by an interpreter, and frequently it has been found necessary to employ two. Some of the stories are very old and have been handed down from one generation to another, but it is most difficult, almost impossible, to judge with any degree of accuracy how old they really are. The word “dowry” comes frequently into these tales, and is used as meaning the amount paid to the parents of the girl by the husband. In the introduction to my Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria, published in 1910, Mr. Andrew Lang suggests that the term “bride-price” would better express the institution, and, no doubt, he is perfectly right. I have, however, adhered to the old expression of “dowry” as it is in general use, and is so well known on the “Coast.” When a man is asked how much “dowry” he paid for his wife, he will frequently produce his “bush book,” consisting of bundles of small sticks tied round with “tie-tie,” one bundle for each year. He will then take one stick from a bundle, and holding it up will say: “That is two calabashes of tombo I gave to the father.” He will then place the stick on the ground and take another, saying “This is one fathom of cloth I gave to the girl.” The next stick may represent twenty yams given to the mother, and the following sticks may mean twenty-five rods, a silk handkerchief, a bar of soap and some bottles of gin. And so he goes on until the bundles are finished, the value of each article being noted in order to ascertain the total amount paid. The marriage customs vary considerably in different parts of the district. In most of the Cross River towns above Abaragba there is no restriction placed on young girls as to sexual intercourse, but when they are married twenty-five pieces of cloth (value 5s. per piece) would be paid as damages for adultery. There is, however, an old custom existing between several towns that no damages can be claimed for adultery. It may be of interest to the reader to state here briefly the usual form of marriage in vogue in this district as the point of several of the tales turns on the position of the woman with reference to her husband or lover. I do not, however, propose to enter into details, but merely to indicate what constitutes a binding form of marriage in this part of the country according to native custom. When a man takes a fancy to a young girl and wishes to marry her, he informs the parents of his intention, and gives them presents. For example, the mother would receive a piece of cloth, and the father a piece of cloth and two bottles of gin. The brothers and sisters of the girl would be given tombo to drink, and in addition the sisters would receive one fathom of cloth each. The man would work on the parents’ farm for some months, and the girl would receive small presents from time to time. Later the mother would be given two bars of salt, one spoon, one bar of soap, and twenty yams, the balance of the dowry being paid on the completion of the marriage ceremony. The girl would go and live with the man. If she did not prove satisfactory, she would be returned to her parents, who would refund the amount of dowry received up to date, and the girl would be given a present of about 8s.; she could then marry another man. If, however, she satisfied the man, he would then have her circumcized by her parents, and the man would touch her with camwood. Having done this he would hand the girl over to his best friend to rub all over with camwood. The man would then build a house for the woman, being helped with the mudding of the walls by his sisters and the sisters of the girl. He would then buy two pieces of cloth and one blanket, and hang them round the walls of the house. While the girl was being rubbed with camwood the friends of the husband would give her presents of sometimes four or five rods each, and his best friend would fire off a gun in the compound where the girl was. When the parents heard the gun, they would go in and say: “There is your wife, we have handed her over to you.” The man would then tell everybody that the girl was his wife. The girl would remain in one room for about two weeks after the above-mentioned operation, until the wound was healed, and then the man would give a feast to all his friends, the cost of the food forming part of the dowry. The girl would then go to live with her husband, and the ceremony would be completed. There appears to be a considerable divergence of opinion between the chiefs and the young men as to whom the children brought forth by a woman before her marriage should belong. Most of the old chiefs say that such children should go to the man who marries the mother and pays the dowry, as children are a valuable asset. On the other hand, the younger generation maintain that when the children are old enough to leave their mother they should be handed over to their proper fathers. This conflict of opinion is not difficult to follow, as the young men are generally the fathers of the children born before marriage, and the old chiefs who are wealthy are generally the husbands, and both the putative fathers and the lawful husbands are anxious to possess the children. It is a vexed question, and each case would be decided upon its own merits, the opinion of the parents of the woman weighing largely in the balance. This opinion is influenced to a great extent by the value of the presents received from the young man and how much he has helped the parents with their work on the farm. If the parents were satisfied, they would probably say that the child or children should belong to the father, but if, on the other hand, the presents were not large enough, they would most likely urge that the children of their daughter born before she was married should belong to her lawful husband. It should be remembered that the feelings of the girl are in no way considered, and she is handed to the man, as a wife, who is in a position to pay the largest amount of dowry. It is therefore often somewhat difficult to distinguish the difference between the dowry paid for a girl on her marriage and the price which was formerly paid for a slave, seeing that the inclinations of the girl are not consulted and she has absolutely no say in the matter of a choice of husband. When the dowry is paid she is taken away from her lover, together with any children she may have had by him, and handed over to the husband by her parents, the question of the rightful ownership of the children being settled usually when they are old enough to leave their mother. In the olden days when “might was right,” these children were taken by the husband, who kept them by the “strong hand” if he were sufficiently powerful; but there is a growing feeling amongst the younger chiefs and the more intelligent trading classes that the children born before marriage should be given to the father when they are weaned.
It will be observed on perusing some of these stories that in several of them the greater part of the tale has nothing, apparently, to do with the main object, which frequently might be dismissed in a few sentences. But that will not surprise anyone who knows the native well, as he can never come to the point at once, but must always first beat about the bush. For example, a native will come to make a complaint that certain goods belonging to him have been stolen and he wants to have the thief punished. After the usual salutations have been exchanged, he will make his complaint, which when translated by the interpreter will be something like the following: “My father and father (grandfather) catch one man goat and one woman goat. They done born two piccane. One piccane done die and leff one piccane. Them piccane, them leff, born two piccane. My father and father done die and him brother take all them thing; but he be big hunter man and no care them goat too much, so he done dash my father. My father catch one slave man, they call ’im Okon and he good man, so my father dash him them two goat. Okon catch wife and two piccane. One be mammie piccane they call ’im Awa, she fine too much, when she done grow I marry her proper and take her brother Abassi for make my head boy. Last moon I send him Calabar for my canoe with twenty bag kernel and one puncheon palm oil. I tell ’im for factory and bring tobacco and cloth and gin. He done catch them thing and one night he stop for one country, he no know how them call him. Them people come and thief them gin for night time but he no look them man cause he live for sleep, so I make them boy pay for them gin and now I want catch them thief man.”
Anyone who takes the trouble to read these folk stories seriously will notice that a great deal has to be taken for granted or understood. Although I have made a special study of witchcraft, ju-ju, and poison, and the various societies in this district for over nine years, I must confess that I understand and know for certain very little about ju-ju. In fact, the more one learns about ju-ju the more hopeless it seems. It must seem incredible to people at home that a man can die because a ju-ju has been made against him—for example, two sticks crossed on the path with, say, a rotten egg and a fowl stuck on a stick, the man’s name having been “called.” And yet one knows of numerous instances where men have died, and young, healthy men, too, against whom such a ju-ju has been made. The man whose name has been “called” and who has passed the ju-ju firmly believes in its power to kill him, and he will go home, refuse to eat, and in a short time will pine away and die. He will probably also just before he dies accuse the man whom he thinks made the ju-ju of having witched him. It is always possible, of course, in these cases, that poison may have been administered, but it is most difficult to get any proof. No amount of argument has any effect on the native mind, and you cannot convince the man that a ju-ju, such as the one mentioned above, is harmless. They generally reply: “Black man ju-ju no be strong enough to hurt white man, but black man he go die one time.”
When I first came to this district, poisoning was rife, and human sacrifices were of frequent occurrence. Whenever a chief died several slaves were killed and buried with him, and it was no uncommon thing for a whole family to accuse another family of witchcraft. They would then resort to the usual trial by ordeal of burning oil and essure (poison) bean, which would result in several deaths. These evil practices have been practically stopped now, but the native belief in witchcraft and ju-ju is just as strong as ever, although they know quite well that to call a man a witch is an offence for which they will get into trouble. As an instance of the native belief in the witch bird (the owl), I would mention a case which came under my notice. Some few years ago I happened to be having some bush cleared and some large trees cut down on the station at Okuni. An owl was disturbed from one of the trees which was covered with creepers, and flew out hooting. One of the station labourers who knew a little English, said: “Poor Okuni.” I at once asked him why he said so, and he replied, “When them witch bird cry for day time, some man go die.” I said, “Nonsense,” or something to that effect, and thought no more about it. Shortly afterwards the eleven o’clock bell rang, and the boys went home for food. When they returned at one o’clock to work, the boy who had spoken about the owl said, “Man done die for Okuni when them witch bird cry.” I then sent to the town and found that a man had died in the morning. This was proof positive to the boy’s mind that whenever the owl hooted in the daytime a man would die, and no amount of explanation would alter his belief. It was a case of “I told you so.”
It is noteworthy that when you get over the watershed between the Cross River and the Katsena (Niger), and into the Munchi country, ju-ju does not seem to exist in the same way as it does further south. In the year 1909, while I was Political Officer on the Anglo-German Boundary Commission, I marched up through the Munchi country into Northern Nigeria, and back again, being absent from my district altogether about six months. During the whole of that time there was not a single death in any of the Munchi or Domi towns where I stayed. It was so noticeable that even the soldiers and carriers remarked upon the absence of deaths, and could not understand the reason. It may have been that the country was more healthy, and we may have been very fortunate, but the fact remains that where there was no ju-ju there were no deaths, and when we returned to the country of ju-ju deaths were of frequent occurrence.
It has been suggested in one of the criticisms on my Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria that the native words should be given on one side of the page, and a fairly literal translation on the other. This would, however, involve a larger expenditure of time than I have at my disposal. There are ten different languages spoken in this district, and it would be extremely difficult to give exact translations of the stories, particularly as some of them as told would be quite unfit for publication. The stories have, however, been set down as nearly as possible in the way they were related to me, the only alterations made being those necessary to render the tales into simple English, as bush English would not be understood, and certain passages containing objectionable matter have been omitted.
In some of the stories it may be noticed that articles such as plates, glasses, bottles of gin, brass pans, and pots have been mentioned, also the use of locks and keys has been introduced into at least one of the tales, although it is quite obvious that the above-mentioned articles could not have existed in this country when the majority of the stories were first related, I have written them down when they were so translated by the interpreter. It is not difficult to understand how some of the things crept into the stories. For example, demijons (which are brought up river from Calabar filled with rum) are used every day in most of the towns for tombo, and glass tumblers are also quite common, and it is easily conceivable that a native, who is accustomed to using these articles, in relating a story might say in his language the equivalent for “The pourer-out then took the demijon of tombo and poured some into a glass which he gave to the chief,” instead of saying, “The pourer-out then poured some tombo from the calabash into the drinking-horn which he handed to the chief.” The latter translation would probably be far nearer to the original version. It is also extremely doubtful whether brass rods, which are mentioned so frequently, existed at the date of many of the stories. The approximate date of the importation of rods into this country is probably known, and cannot be more than about sixty years ago, and most likely considerably less. The author is of the opinion that in the early days there was no form of native currency in the Ikom district. At the present time, rods are not used further north-east from Ikom than Umbaji, and in 1909, whilst on the Anglo-German Boundary Commission, he found that there was no form of native currency at Bassankwala, and no substitute therefore, with the possible exception of a few native forged iron hoes which found their way down from the north-west, and had a fixed marketable value. But the use of these implements is doubtless of a comparatively recent date, as nearly all the natives in that part use wooden hoes lashed on to the bent handles with tie-tie. In the country mentioned, all trade was and is still done by a system of barter and exchange. The Umbaji people exchanging salt and house rats (which form an article of diet for the Bassankwala people, who are cannibals) for palm oil and yams. The Bassankwala people admitted to the author that they ate human beings, and had always done so, but they asserted vehemently that they did not eat their own dead—these they passed on to the next town, who sent them theirs in exchange. Prisoners taken in fighting or people killed were also eaten, and, from what the adjoining countries told the author, natives straying into their bush were similarly treated. These people, however, all promised, and were apparently perfectly sincere, at once to stop this abominable practice, at the same time saying that they were unaware they had been doing wrong, as they had never heard the white man’s laws before.
It is perhaps noteworthy that these people, who are pure cannibals, all file their teeth to a sharp point.
With reference to the eating of rats, it may be remarked that all the natives in the Ikom district eat the bush rat, which is quite different from the house or domestic species, but the Bassankwala people are the only natives the author has met who eat the “common or garden” house rat. The large fruit-eating bats, about which so many native stories are told, are looked upon as a great delicacy, and at Insofan on the Cross River, there is quite a trade done in them, one bat selling for one rod or sixpence in English money. In the evening, just before it gets dark, you can frequently see thousands of these bats flying off, high up in the air, to their favourite feeding places. The way they are obtained for food is simple and may be worth mentioning. On the bank opposite to Insofan there are some very tall trees covered with creepers, in which many thousands of these bats sleep during the day. A few hunters go out with their long Dane guns and station themselves one under each tree. Then when one man has found a thick cluster of bats, he fires into them, and with luck brings down a few. (The author has killed seven at one shot, with number 6 from a full choke 12-bore, at the particular request of a chief who wanted them for food.)
Immediately the bats hear the gun fired, they desert the trees they are sheltering in, and commence circling around in the air, flying about in a most aimless and erratic sort of way, until, after about ten minutes, they settle on a different tree. Then another hunter fires, and so the game goes on. In connection with these creatures, it is curious to notice the agitation amongst the birds, should one happen to be disturbed in the day time. The same applies to the large eagle owls, who are invariably chased by the smaller birds, whenever they appear while the sun is up, but it is seldom the owl comes out in the day time, and then he takes shelter in some thick covert as soon as possible.
E. D.