Through unknown Nigeria

This narrative may be made easier to follow if explanation is given of the outline of movement. That is based, not on a series of consecutive marches, but of making Naraguta a centre of operations and working from there in two directions, of a few days each, until the final trek is entered upon, which is to be across and off the Bauchi Plateau, then over it again and back to railhead.

He is wise who travelling at this period of the year—October—does not make sure in the morning where he will sleep that night. Man proposes; a set of unexpected circumstances disposes. I formed this plan. To leave Naraguta at 11 a.m.; lunch at Gurum—a bad 10 miles of road—afterwards covering the seven miles to Bugi.

Gurum was reached in an hour-and-a-half. I set out for Bugi with, as guide, Mr Leighton, of Gurum Camp, which is the headquarters in Nigeria of the Anglo-Continental Mines.

A five miles’ ride through pleasant, open, bush country took us to the Gurum River ford. Though a narrow crossing, the merest glance showed that visual bearings must be taken before entering the water. The morning’s downpour had deepened and quickened the current, which swirled and rushed in a menacing manner, as to say, “I forbid anybody touching me whilst in my present mood.” One of the Gurum Camp doki boys who frequently acts as guide across the stream declared himself “No fit” to try and get over. He declined to step from the bank.

We turned off the path to try another point, near the rapids, about half-a-mile away. That was at once seen to be utterly impossible. Not only had the water risen considerably; the surface showed that it covered holes and rocks, and in the shallow sections were flat granite faces so polished by the running water that it was evident no horse or man could maintain foothold. Going over at that point or at the ford was out of the question. But there was this difficulty to turning back and staying the night at Gurum: the camp-beds were doubtless on the other side. They had been sent by carriers in advance of our start and as we had not overtaken the men they must have got over. It was easy to conjecture where; it must have been by a narrow bridge of tree-trunks much higher up, over which horses could not be taken and where the river did not allow them to be swum or otherwise led.

Gurum Camp has a name for hospitality to persons on trek, but, like most places, it possesses no spare sleeping equipment. What was to be done? Our hope rested in the trust that we were earlier than the carriers, whose way was along a path near the other side of the ford. How we devoutly wished they had not struck a different direction! Still, they were not likely to look for us and we might not see them, hidden by the long grass. Standing at the edge of the river, we therefore took turns in shouting and sounding a whistle. The performance had become a trifle monotonous and trying when we were gladdened by the sight of the loads moving along our front a few hundred yards distant. The whistle drew attention, and on the men coming to the brink of the river they were made to understand that they were to return to Gurum Camp, and we also retraced our course.

Next morning, little rain having fallen during the night, I determined to again try the ford of the Gurum River. The stream had greatly abated and the doki boy now quite “fit” to lead the way over. The necessity for a guide may be explained by the fact that although the crossing is a narrow one it is hazardous to go over without a competent guide after a storm, as the action of the water, pouring along, frequently works deep holes in the bed, and a horse stumbling into one might readily break a leg. Should the guide step over such a cavity he could swim away. Taking a zigzag line, with the water up to the horses’ girths we went across.

A little way past there is a patch of cultivation by Pagans who live up in the neighbouring hills. It is a good example of their skilled agriculture. Yams, sweet potatoes and ground-nuts are planted on ridges of earth straight, wavy and forked shaped; and on low circular mounds enclosed by a six-inch higher layer of soil to keep the rain from running off the ground.

Another system of miniature irrigation practised on the patch is that of rings of earth, about three feet in diameter on the top of which—three inches wide—ground-nuts grow, the cup-like interior retaining rain. Narrow, shallow ditches intersect the field and are instrumental in fertilising it.

The lines between the early-growing crops are scrupulously weeded. Notwithstanding continuous alternating showers and sunshine, there was not a blade of parasitical growth. I estimated the Hausas of Kano Province to be scrupulously clean farmers, unexcelled until I came to this Pagan country. Yet the people, who are also workers in metal and have a love of music, are, I suppose, to be ruled outside civilisation because they wear practically no clothes. How horrible! Wait until they learn the graces of the silk hat and the unnaturally tight-lacing, then they will be our brothers and sisters, especially if they do the proper thing religiously. Now they have their ju-jus, their harmless superstitions. How awful! I hope we on the continents of Europe and America have no ju-jus.

Having returned to Naraguta the next short journey was to Fedderi, for the purpose of seeing the tin-mining there. Fedderi is 24 miles south-east, two days’ trek. It is postally described as “near Naraguta.”

There are Headmen and Headmen; I mean of working gangs or carriers, not village Headmen. Many of the former are thoroughly reliable; some, speaking a few words of English, I fear cannot be given that character. They mislead both sides between whom they are a link of conversation, the white man and the labourers or carriers.

Hearing I wished to visit the tin-winning operations at Fedderi, Mr S. A. Molyneux, the Manager, offered the use as carriers of his labourers who were bringing tin for transport. They presented themselves, in charge of a Headman named Gotum Karo. He at once favourably impressed me as having thorough control over his men, who promptly moved as he ordered. Instead of allowing them to pick up and, as is sometimes done, to an extent scramble in selecting their respective loads, he partly lifted each to try its weight and sharply told off a carrier for the duty. I subsequently heard that Gotum Karo had been in the Northern Nigeria Regiment. He had evidently taken away with his service the facility of giving the word of command. I soon discovered he had also acquired some of the evil cunning of “the old soldier.”

As the labourers stood in line, the packages laid in front of them, Gotum Karo advanced towards me and proceeded to several salaams and “Zaki” repeatedly. Becoming impatient to get on the road, I interrupted the salutations by asking severely what he was seeking and why he did not move off. He came to the point immediately. “They,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the labourers, “want chop money,” i.e., money for food allowance.

Oh, that was it. During the performance of Mr Gotum Karo’s prolonged politeness I had become suspicious and therefore was not taken unawares. Knowing that Mr Molyneux would not have sent his men without the wherewithal for sustenance, I answered, “Tell them they will have no chop money from me. If they no fit to carry loads, you take them back to Bombature (the important white man) Molyneux.” After a pause I added, “Any dash (tip) I give be at Fedderi.”

Gotum Karo did not deliver the message. He simply told the men to lift the boxes and to march. This little omission of his involuntarily disclosed that the scheme to obtain money was his own idea, not theirs. He would have had the lion’s share; probably all.

But Gotum Karo had imbibed the British characteristic of not knowing when he was beaten, though his application of the doctrine was not to be admired.

When we had arrived at the rest-house at Tilde Fulani, where the night was to be spent, Gotum came and spun a story of having lost 12s. and of the labourers owing him money. I cut him short by enquiring what he expected me to do, and he then put the request into the form of “Lend me 2s.” until the following day, when he would recover his debts and pay. This style of a loan is a common manner of extortion, as it is realised that the white man will not ask for a shilling or so due to him. The fellow declared—a palpable untruth—he had had no food for 24 hours. I gave him 6d. and told him that if he did not clear out of the house I would kick him through a doorway, indicating the one. He retired.

It may be matter for wonder that such tricks should be tried on persons who are practically, if not actually, guests of the delinquent’s employer. Yet they are frequently, probably with knowledge of the reluctance on the part of a visitor to complain.