Through unknown Nigeria

Leaving Naraguta and making direct south, about four miles along an excellent broad road, Jos is reached, past which one takes either a branch, still wide, road or a path which can scarcely be termed a bush one, for the character of the country is changing. There are granite boulders of moderate size. The merely undulating plains with small hills correspond to the impressions one has gained from the descriptions of Transvaal scenery, with its expansive veldt and kopjes around.

Travelling is no longer amidst torrential downpour and flooding tornadoes. The rains have ceased. No more will fall for at least three months, probably four. The rains ended with the advent of the October new moon. They stopped almost as automatically as the municipal turncock checks the supply from the main to the household pipes in English towns. A storm came and, continuing during the evening preceding the new moon, a bet was made at 8 o’clock that the fall of water would last over the astronomical change, which was to occur between 1 and 3 a.m. The man who backed the affirmative lost. The shower ceased at 11 p.m.

The roads just here are new, smooth and hard. Bridges of earth and wood, easily swept away by the swollen, rushing streams of the wet season, have been rebuilt, and therefore there is no wading across rivers of doubtful depth with deep holes in the bed or large rocks under water.

No need to watch for the sign of a storm. The sky is generally clear, blue flecked by a little white. The surrounding land is altering its appearance. The universal green, hitherto freshened by the rains, has largely become russet, with fields of light yellow grass. This dry, long grass has already provided the running ground for bush fires, too frequently started by a lighted object thrown thoughtlessly among quick-burning material. You can see these bush fires at night, sharp and distinct against the blackness around. They may be small and easily beaten out by the natives using sticks. Sometimes the fire will extend to a half-mile front. Then it must proceed until a large river or other barren space gives it no passage and it dies away. At the end of the rains, the European will clear the space round his house for hundreds of feet. So will the careful native. Should he have neglected, his dwelling may be smouldering in a flash; and whether from the bush or by internal cause, when a fire lays hold of a village scores of families are homeless in a few minutes.

These bush fires of Northern Nigeria are not, however, of that wild, devouring character seen in Canada and Australia, where the fierce roar can be heard a mile away and where everything staying within the line of advance must be destroyed entirely. Though here there is the sharp unpleasant crackle and uncomfortable heat as the flames roll onwards, the grass is not very high and being comparatively sparse does not give the fire that firm grasp which makes it invincible to subdue.

Over the blackened ground where it has run, within a few hours you will notice new blades of grass sprouting, so wonderfully ready to respond to nature is this soil, poor though it is judged by the soil more to the north, the west and the east.

There are other signs of the changed season. The harmattan haze hangs on the hills, and presently will come those dust storms which in no slight degree make themselves felt however you may try to protect yourself in a dwelling of any kind.

There is little cultivation along the route we are passing. Dwarf guinea-corn, about four feet in height, and similar millets nearly constitute the whole. There are a few flowers bearing rich yellow petals which easily transport one’s fancy to English counties. The impression is emphasised by rolling downs, which remind you of Sussex scenery.

I have a wholesome fear of tiring readers with overmuch detail of travel and therefore pass over with a few words the several days’ trek to Jemma, with one march of 25 miles in a severely hot temperature, mostly on foot, lasting from morning to evening, with not so much as a drink of water or a biscuit to eat, and entailing a descent of more than 2,200 feet from the Bauchi Plateau to Nassarawa Province. I take up the story where my little caravan, emerging from a long lane through high grass, dipped into a plain backed by high hills.

A pleasant little episode marked the entry to the plain. Passing a circular mud house a white man came out of it and seeing me in doubt as to the direction to be taken spontaneously asked, “Can I be of assistance to you?” and then probably noticing the betravelled condition I presented, offered refreshment. As the day’s journey was practically ended the invitation was declined, but it was a kindly spirit that prompted it, a spirit general among the best type of Northern Nigeria Government Officers. The individual in this case was Captain F. P. Soper, Assistant Commissioner of Police in charge of the Jemma district.

My stay at Jemma was not long enough to go to the head-hunters’ village four miles across the valley, though I should have greatly liked to have made their acquaintance. There was, however, a great deal of ground still to be covered, so after two clear days at Jemma, the return journey was commenced. (The various Pagan tribes visited in the course of the several treks are dealt with together in Chapters XXIX to XXXII, instead of referring to them here and there, piecemeal.)

Though for several reasons I should have preferred to have gone by the old caravan route westward to Loko and thence along the Benue River, or by the lower road northwards, considerations led to the decision to go back on the line by which I had come.

That, of course, entailed ascending the escarpment, some 2,200 feet. Plans were arranged accordingly. It was done on the second day’s trek, and instead of a march of 25 miles, as when I came down it, one of 18 was fixed. The weather was very hot, which was also taken into consideration. The decision was made to leave Karshi rest-house at 4 a.m., and though the sun does not rise until a little past 5 o’clock, a broad pathway clearly showed the way to the carriers.

Getting up at 3 o’clock, by 4 o’clock breakfast had been finished, the table, chairs and the beds made into their usual loads, and we were off a few minutes earlier than the appointed time.

The idea governing the programme was to reach the mountain path to the Plateau at daybreak and then cover it in the cool hours of the morning, instead of doing so under a fierce glare, the heat intensified by reflection from the high rocks that seemed on touch to be burning, which was the experience on the outward journey.

The ascent to the Plateau proved much less trying than the descent had been. True, in the latter case the hardest part was done under the most severe heat of the day and an extra seven miles had been put on the span, whilst on the return tramp the worst section was left behind before the sun had put forth full power, and cold tea, kept so in a special flask, gave relief to a parched throat and produced a general refreshed feeling. Still, not until 12.30 was the rest-house at Hos reached and the loads put down for another day.

Temperature on the Plateau was in marked contrast to that felt in the lower ground of Nassarawa Province. On the higher altitude cool air and strong breezes temper the beat rays. Instead of being charged with moisture, the atmosphere is dry, rarefied.

At one part of the march I was walking, to ease the horse and for a change of movement to myself, when an incident occurred which might have produced an unpleasant result to each side in the quarrel.

The carriers were ahead, out of sight, for, notwithstanding their 60 lbs. load on the head, they will swing along on an even path at 3½ miles an hour in dry weather and 3 miles an hour over wet ground, soon outdistancing a horse that is not trotting. With me there was only one of the doki boys. We were passing along a winding path flanked with a long hill on the left and high grass on the right. The noise of shouting in front reached us, which at first I thought came from some ju-ju celebration or other jollification at one of the Pagan centres. A bend of the path showed a crowd of men struggling and the angry voices conveyed unmistakably that passions were roused.

Running forward I saw a Hausa man on the ground being dragged by half-a-dozen Pagans towards their compound and houses at the side of the path, whilst eight or ten Hausa men were trying to prevent it. At the moment more Pagans, who had evidently been summoned to the scene, were hurrying up, spears in hand, though not poised ready for thrusting. I pushed my way into the middle of the struggling mass and motioned the Pagans to release their hold on the Hausa, which they did immediately. He then attempted to rise, but I promptly and none too gently pushed him down, so that adjudication could be done without giving either side the impression of favouring the other. It was better the relative positions remain.

The Hausa was one of a party, under a Headman, taking loads across country. I demanded from the Headman the reason for the disturbance. He attempted to represent the Pagans as the aggressors, but his story was easily sifted and the truth ascertained. As I expected, the Hausa was in the wrong. Some of the labourer class frequently adopt towards Pagans insolence and a sneering manner they would not dare unless for the knowledge that the British have forbidden violence and the use of weapons to vent a grievance, under any conditions. In the present case, the Pagans, noticing the Hausas approaching, had gone out with ground-nuts to sell. The man on the ground had taken a handful, eaten nearly half, and then given the remainder back, refusing to pay the penny due, on the plea that the nuts were not good. He had further exasperated these simple people by grinning at them as he proceeded to go away with his fellows. They thereupon seized, and were dragging, him into their village.

I said the Hausa man must pay the penny. He asserted he did not have one. I asked the Headman if any of the party would pay for him, and the answer given was that none had money—a palpable falsehood. Then, I announced, the blanket—a highly-valued article for use at night—belonging to the one who had eaten the nuts would be torn up. I put it on the ground, placed a foot determinedly on the edge and gripped the thing as though to rend it. I had mentally decided that, if the penny was not forthcoming at the last second, sooner than destroy the rug I would give the penny; but obviously it was infinitely better that the fellow or another of the gang paid. Just as a tug was made at the blanket the man on the ground cried “Baboo” (“Do not do it”), and asked the Headman to hand over a penny for him. The coin was offered to me, but I directed it be given to the Pagan.

I told the man to get up and ordered the Headman to lead the gang away at once, warning him against any additional provocation at villages on the way. I stayed 15 minutes to see that the Hausas got well on the road without trouble; then mounted, waved a farewell to the Pagans, who were mightily pleased at the settlement, and rode off.

The question may occur: What plan would have been followed had either party to the dispute resisted the intervention? To tell the truth, I did not have a thought on that aspect until an hour or so later. Only then, whilst jogging along on horseback, the humour of the situation presented itself. What I should have done in the event of the Hausas or Pagans showing hostility I really do not know.

As a matter of fact, the advent of the white man was welcomed by both sides: the Hausas at once realised that their brother would not be speared and the Pagans instinctively appreciated that justice was to be done. What would have befallen the man they were dragging into the compound is uncertain. Probably killed, and so would those of his gang who participated in the scuffle. A few years ago no Hausa dare venture within many days’ journey of this Hos-Karshi bush-path. The British authorities have made the Pagans understand that any attack on people passing along the main track will be severely punished, at the same time promising that their villages shall not be entered by any strangers unless they are messengers from a Resident. Warnings and cautions to that effect are issued to all who go through the area.

A few days’ later I saw the Resident at Bukuru and told him what had taken place. He approved.

A further 16 miles on the following day took me to Bukuru, whence, after the night’s rest, I struck at right-angles off the main path for South Bukuru.