The Harmatan — Native burial rites — Koranko superstitions — The Anglo-French frontier — Solitude of a Customs post — A change of scenery — Smuggling — A change of carriers — Intoxicating liquor — The Upper Niger — A splendid spectacle — A good highway — Native music.
IN the Tembikunda Mountains I found the variations of temperature between night and day extremely trying. The maximum by day never exceeded ninety degrees, but at night the temperature used sometimes to fall to under fifty degrees. The greatest height I reached was 2480 feet. The fall of temperature was evidently caused by the dry Harmatan wind which always blows at this time of year. This wind is said to come from the Sahara; it blows from the north-east for more or less long periods during the months of December, January, February, and March, all over the West Coast of Africa. The theory that it comes from the Sahara appears to be supported by the fact that it contains a quantity of fine particles of sand. Its extreme dryness is particularly noticeable in the otherwise damp coast atmosphere. Books and papers curl up, and the skin gets uncomfortably parched at this season. Natives are especially susceptible to chills and pneumonia while the Harmatan is blowing.
In spite of sleeping in a native hut, a place not usually remarkable for its coolness, I used to shiver under my three blankets. Finally, the only way I could keep sufficiently warm to get to sleep was by lighting a huge log fire close to my bedside before retiring to rest. Of course, the cold was not really so intense, as the thermometer was several degrees above freezing; but the sudden fall in temperature between night and day had the unpleasant effect of making it appear like midwinter in England.
A curious fact about the Harmatan is that, owing to the sand carried by it in suspension in the air, a kind of haze is produced which considerably restricts one’s range of vision. The effect is very similar to that caused by a London fog. Indeed, when watching the sunset while a strong Harmatan was blowing, I could easily imagine myself gazing at that peculiar appearance seen in the sky on a foggy winter’s afternoon in Town. At times this curious wind blows with great violence. This is particularly the case in the early morning, when even on the march a thick overcoat can be worn without feeling in the least degree too hot.
The country in which I now was is inhabited by the Korankos. Their territory is a large one, extending for a considerable distance north and west of the Niger watershed, while a small portion of the tribe overflows eastward into French Guinea. The whole country is very mountainous, and the people are extremely poor. Most of them are pagans. These Korankos suffered considerably during the wars of Samory, when many of them were exterminated by his Sofas. The principal town is Kruto, lying about forty miles due west of the Niger source, and a trading centre of some importance. At the small village of Manson I arrived on the day of the burial of a chief’s son. The ceremony which takes place on such an occasion is somewhat remarkable, and it was my good fortune to witness it here.
The whole burial rites take three or four days, the body not being taken to the grave till the last day, by which time, as can be imagined, it is in an unsavoury state of decomposition, and not fit to be approached by a white man.
Immediately a death occurs the womenfolk start lamenting; in the meantime messengers are despatched to all the slaves and relatives in the other villages. As this takes some days, the body is kept in the house till they have all arrived. In the case of a Poro man, his body is deposited in the “Poro” Bush. No woman is permitted to look on the corpse. Dancing, singing, and tomtoming are vigorously kept up the whole time. The women take a leading part in this portion of the ceremony. A woman’s body is taken to the “Bundu” Bush until the day of burial.
On the burial day all the mourners plaster themselves with white clay and follow the corpse to the burial-ground. Country cloths are buried with the deceased, the number varying directly with his personal wealth. The favourite hour for the interment is sunset. After the burial guns are fired by anyone possessing a fire-arm, with the intention of frightening away all evil spirits; at the same time a sacrifice is made on the grave of a fowl, a sheep, or a cow, according to the wealth of the dead man. These sacrifices are also offered for the purpose of propitiating the dead man’s ancestors, who, tradition says, are otherwise in the habit of torturing his soul.
Directly after the burial the deceased’s property is taken possession of by the heir, who then invites his friends to a feast, on the principle, I suppose, of “Le roi est mort, vive le roi.” At a burial or a marriage the one aim of the native seems to be to spend as much money as possible.
Some Korankos are members of the mystical Kofung society. The Kofung society has a large organization among the Limba people, who inhabit the north centre of the protectorate; but it has also some influence over the western tribes. Its rites are of a mournful, morbid character. A candidate has to simulate death, and is supposed to be made to return to life by the officiating members at the initiation ceremony. As he lies on a litter, apparently dead, the members dance round him, raise him up, and wash his eyes with a lotion prepared from the bark of a cork tree. When the dance is ended the candidate stands over a fire, the chief of the sect then holding a burnt stick before his eyes, and making him swear the sacred oath of the society. There are several masonic signs by which a Kofung man may be recognized. He frequently has a brass ring on his toe, thumb, or wrist. One man may be recognized by a brother in the order if he crosses his arms, or crosses two twigs. Every member is supposed to have an attendant spirit who can be summoned, if required, by uttering certain magical words and calling the spirit by name seven times. Kofung men believe they can transform themselves into animals. If, however, they are tied up to a piece of corkwood, they believe they no longer possess this power.
As far as can be ascertained, the Kofung society is not dangerous to the community. Murder does not appear to come within its scope. It seems merely to teach a highly superstitious doctrine, such as the mystery-loving pagan’s soul delights in. Even when these people adopt Islam, they never seem wholly to give up the mystic rites of their former pagan teachings. They certainly never lose the superstitions of their particular tribe. In cases where pagans have been converted to Christianity exactly the same failings are almost invariably to be noticed.
Amongst many of these pagan tribes a curious superstition exists with regard to the birth of twins in a family. The twins are killed and the mother driven out into the bush, for twins are said to be a curse from the god the people worship; it being supposed that if the foregoing brutal procedure be not carried out the whole family will become mad.
On the 17th of January I set out to cross the border into French Guinea. Our road lay along small mountain-paths, more like goat tracks than roads, which wound laboriously up the precipitous, rocky slopes. The scenery here is very wild and beautiful. As far as the eye can reach there rise up a series of rugged peaks, clothed in light bush and tall elephant-grass. Numerous mountain torrents rush down in their headlong course to the plains of Sankaran, which can but faintly be discerned many miles below in French Guinea.
Some of these tiny streams are destined to grow into important if not mighty rivers; such a one is the Niger. To see this insignificant rivulet, here only a few feet wide, as it dashes down the eastern slopes of the Tembikunda Range, who would dream that it is to develop into a wide, splendid waterway, destined to fertilize large tracts of country in Western Soudan, and to carry innumerable craft on its broad bosom before it finally throws its waters into the sea 2400 miles away?
My hammock “boys” had a rough time carrying me over these mountains. We climbed up to a height of 3000 feet, according to my aneroid barometer, before commencing the descent to the plains below. Once or twice, I must own, I felt as if my last hour had come, when, having arrived at an unusually difficult place, my satellites had to raise the hammock to the full extent of their long black arms in order to clear some huge boulder blocking the path. At these moments I used to gaze down at the yawning precipice at my side, knowing that if one of those arms should waver, be it ever so slightly, I should in all probability be hurled down some 2000 feet into the chasm below. Fortunately for me my bearers were brawny fellows, and we arrived at the frontier village of Farakoro without any mishap.
The good people of this little place were evidently not used to visits from white men, and were much astonished at my sudden appearance. The trade road between French Guinea and the east of Sierra Leone is a considerable distance north of this place, and goes to the important station of Kaballa, which is the head-quarters of one of the Sierra Leone District Commissioners. On my arrival at Farakoro the inhabitants fled precipitately, and I found myself left in undisputed possession of the village. I at once sent my servant with reassuring messages to the chief, who had taken refuge in the neighbouring bush with his followers. My escort was no longer with me, for I had sent the soldiers back to Daru that morning. After some palaver the old chief was induced to show himself, and finally led his people back to the market-place, although it was palpable that his suspicions of us were not quite set at rest.
I halted an hour here to give the carriers a little well-earned repose, and, while they were resting, I thought I would try the effect of a present of tobacco on my old friend the chief. It was magical. No sooner had he got possession of this highly prized article than his face became wreathed in smiles, all suspicions either vanished or were forgotten, and we were on the best of terms. The old man produced some bananas for myself and some rice for my carriers, so that everyone was in the highest of spirits. Food has a most remarkable effect on the negro. If his stomach is well cared for he is a cheerful rascal, and will follow you almost anywhere. Whether he wants it or not he is always ready to eat; indeed, the amount consumed by a black man at one meal is something prodigious. I recollect seeing one of these men devour his ration, one and a half pounds of rice, which, when boiled, swells to a considerable volume, and is itself more than a meal for two very hungry Europeans. After this he bolted two large yams, which are also a very satisfying form of diet, and finally he ended the meal with a leg of goat! Strange to relate, after a few hours’ peaceful slumber he appeared to be none the worse for his huge repast.
The road now improved considerably, and two miles farther we finally left the mountains, emerging into the broad Sankaran plains. The change in scenery was really remarkable. Broad rice- and maize-fields stretched on every side; in place of the wild, rugged hills we were in a smiling land of peace and plenty. Habitations were numerous, peasants were everywhere at work in the well-cared-for farms, and one was at once struck by the general air of prosperity. We soon came to a comparatively wide road, which we followed to Sarafinian. The country was now decidedly open. Bush there was, as there always is in West Africa, but it was all of the nature of very low scrub and grass-land.
On my arrival at Sarafinian I was greeted by a French official, who proved to be the Customs officer. At certain places along the frontier of French Guinea there are Customs Stations established in order to prevent smuggling of dutiable articles across the border. In charge of these posts there are one or more Europeans. They are provided with a small staff of native policemen who assist them to carry out their duties. My friend had to supervise a section of over sixty miles of frontier. The work is arduous and not unattended by danger. Would-be smugglers naturally choose the night for their dashes across the border, so a considerable portion of the work has to be done after sunset. Even the best-behaved smugglers are not men to hold human life of much account, so that the task of capturing them is attended with a good deal of risk. The existence must be a very lonely one. Situated as he was in a desolate spot, thirty or forty miles from the nearest white man for twelve months or more, and leading a life of some danger, it requires a man endowed with particularly high spirits not to get depressed at times. This French official was blessed with a large share of his country’s native vivacity. He had been fourteen months by himself at this little station, and during this long period had only seen one white man; yet his good spirits never seemed to have failed him. He welcomed me most warmly, and was kindness itself during my short stay at Sarafinian.
I was glad of an opportunity of resting my leg here. The knee was much swollen, being so painful I could not bear to put my foot to the ground. For the first time I had a chance to get it well dressed, and by the 19th it was so much better that I decided to push on upon my journey northwards.
Here I paid off my Sierra Leone carriers, whose shining black faces beamed with delight at receiving so much wealth all at once. I think, too, that they were rather pleased to get back to their native land. These people are generally eager for a job in their own country, or even, perhaps, anywhere in the protectorate; but as soon as they get into a foreign region, where food is different, and the laws and customs are not the same, they begin to “fear,” which, being translated into plain English, means that they are nervous of what may happen to them.
My new gang of carriers were local natives. They were not in the least anxious to be engaged, but the promise of high pay and the glowing pictures painted by the Customs interpreter of the way they could enjoy life on the proceeds thereof when they returned, were effective in producing a sufficient number of stalwart porters for my needs. The carrier in Sierra Leone is paid ninepence, but the French Guinea carrier seldom gets more than sixpence per diem. My offer of ninepence, therefore, was to these men a munificent one, and the tempting bait of so much wealth was more than they could resist. The chief of the town was present while the bargain was being made, as it is the custom for all such dealings to be done through the medium of the chief concerned. He was highly interested in the question of the amount to be paid each man. In fact, so eager was he that I am afraid he had in his mind some material gain for himself rather than the welfare of his people. This chief was a strange, uncouth individual.
His hair was very long and matted; he also wore his beard long, but this was twisted in a miserable thin plait, hanging down below his chest. He looked so dirty that it would have been necessary to scrape him with a spade for some time before he could possibly be washed; finally, he had an inordinate craving for absinthe, or any kind of alcohol, and, according to my French acquaintance, he was usually the worse for liquor. How he managed, in this remote little place, to get so much European liquor was an amazing problem to everyone. Few traders came that way; besides, absinthe and such-like dainties are expensive luxuries in French Guinea, where import duty is exceedingly high, and our worthy friend was a poor man. This was apparently a secret known only to himself, and one he would never disclose even when he was in his most confidential moods. So the problem is, and appears likely to remain, unsolved. Of course, there is also a great deal of native alcohol drunk by the negro in West Africa. In all the districts within some 200 miles of the coast there is a broad belt of palm trees. These trees produce a wine which, if allowed to ferment, is highly intoxicating. The wine is obtained in the following manner. An incision is made near the top of the tree, close to where the leaves sprout; a calabash is then hung in such a position as to catch the liquid as it flows out. At convenient times the owner comes to remove the contents, which are a very cool and refreshing beverage when not fermented.
The mode of climbing a palm tree is peculiar; it reminds one of the proverbial monkey on a stick to see the native as he ascends a tree. Ladders are not used for this purpose, but a loop is made with a supple creeper and placed round the trunk of the tree. The climber then seats himself in the free end of the loop, placing his toes against the bark of the palm. By digging his toes firmly into the tree-trunk he is able to relieve the loop of his weight sufficiently to permit of the loop being pushed further up the tree. In this manner the top is gradually reached. Natives generally climb their trees to fetch the wine in the early morning; the liquor is then left to ferment in the sun till the evening. About sundown the men assemble in a hut and drink the intoxicating stuff while squatting by the fireside. Women as a rule do not drink; at any rate, I never remember seeing a woman under the influence of palm-wine in the bush.
Soon after leaving Sarafinian I crossed the Niger. It was here about ten yards wide, and not more than three feet deep. The stream at this stage is, of course, of no importance, but is of interest purely on account of the greatness which is to be its portion later. Between this spot and Faranah the stream is crossed three times, gradually widening out as it has room to expand in the comparatively flat Sankaran plains, till at Faranah it is about seventy yards broad. It is fordable all the way, and until this town is reached no canoes are seen on its waters. The banks are lightly wooded, sloping easily down to the water’s edge. As the little river meanders peacefully through the bush-country, it might well be a trout stream in some quiet spot in England.
That day’s march was a long one, for I only reached camp at six o’clock. The carriers were all behind my hammock, and some did not get in till long after dark. About eight o’clock the headman arrived with the pleasant news that two of the porters had thrown the loads on the ground and bolted several miles back. As might have been expected, these two loads were just the most important ones of my caravan, one of which was my camp bed. I immediately ordered two men to be despatched to retrieve them, inwardly praying that they had not already been stolen by some rapacious negro on the road. This habit of throwing down one’s belongings and running away when they feel so disposed is a common one among West African carriers, and is particularly annoying to their unlucky employer. However, in that land one soon gets philosophical about such trifles, and comes to the conclusion that life is too short to permit of them being taken too much to heart. So, making the best of affairs, I lay down on a blanket and soon was fast asleep.
The next morning, having enrolled two fresh men from the village where I had slept, we were once more up to marching strength. The sun was now getting decidedly hot; the country was undulating bush, but fairly open. We had not gone many miles when dense clouds of smoke and huge flames became visible on the horizon. It was evident we were marching towards a bush fire. The heat grew more and more intolerable as the wind drove the flames in our direction, and the porters instinctively began to run forward in order to dash through the burning zone as quickly as possible. It was the first time I had actually marched through a large bush fire, although I had, of course, often been close to a patch of burning bush-country.
In spite of the terrific heat, the spectacle was so splendid as to make one oblivious of the discomfort. For miles in front of us was a huge wall of leaping, hissing flames. Through the centre there ran a narrow path from which the blazing fire seemed to have been hurled back to the right and left, thus giving us a free passage through the scorching bank of flames. The fire was approaching with amazing rapidity. In front of it darted out many terrified inhabitants of the bush, such as hares, field-mice, and partridges, all wondering, no doubt, what was this infernal, blazing demon which thus relentlessly drove them from their homes. While the ground was covered with these poor frightened creatures, the air was full of equally terrified insects, attempting to get out of danger before their wings should be singed by those cruel flames. In many cases their attempted flight only drove them into the clutches of their arch-enemies the hawks, who, seemingly oblivious of the heat, circled in the air above their luckless victims, every now and then pouncing down on a tempting morsel.
Once we started running it did not take long to get to the other side of the fire, for it sweeps forward with extraordinary speed, burning up the grass and small bushes in a few seconds, leaving in its wake only charred remains and here and there a tree or bush, more tenacious of life than the others, still wrapped in a sheet of flame while the fire is disappearing in the distance. Big trees are often to be seen still blazing some days after the bush fire has passed that way. After emerging from the flames we were all begrimed with the soot and ashes; even the natives’ dusky faces showed signs of having been through something blacker than the colour of their skins.
The change which had now come over the surface of the landscape was remarkable. In place of the waving bush, which had existed but a few minutes before, there was now an open plain, almost devoid of vegetation, carpeted with smouldering ashes. Under the heat of that tropical sun one missed the grateful shade afforded by the bush, and the perspiration rolled in big drops from the faces of the carriers as they trudged stolidly on under the weight of their loads.
On the 21st of January our bush path merged into the main road which runs from Faranah to Kissidougou. This is a highway, fifteen feet wide, and kept in good repair by the French. It was far superior to any road I had yet come across, and made a very decided difference to our rate of marching. There is one great drawback to these wide roads in West Africa, viz. they are much hotter to march on, as there is no shade available. But that is, after all, a minor disadvantage, as the communications of a country are obviously greatly facilitated. Here I saw the telegraph line for the first time since leaving the Sierra Leone Railway. To a visitor in French West Africa it soon becomes apparent that our continental neighbours excel in the matter of public works in their colonies. Roads, railways, bridges and telegraphs have the most careful attention, and a vast amount of money is spent on their construction.
That night I camped at the village of Kamaraia. The inhabitants are an offshoot of the Korankos of Sierra Leone, and are similar to them in their habits; but as the country is more fertile they are more prosperous. The evening was beguiled by some native music. The musician played an instrument called “Ballaini.” It produces a melodious and rather liquid sound, and was one of the most musical native instruments I heard. It is made of a gourd, partially covered over with goatskin, and has narrow cross-pieces of bamboo nailed over it. The musician produces the different notes by hitting these cross-pieces with a small stick. Most natives have a good ear for music, but their repertoire of melodies is extremely small. A man will be quite happy, however, in sitting the whole evening repeating the same bars over and over again to an admiring audience. I regret to say that I was not so easily amused, and after half an hour had to tell our friend to finish his performance elsewhere.
Faranah — The Malinkés — Castes — Big game on the Mafou River — Native methods of hunting — Trapping — Ground nuts — The native trader — Kouroussa — Native types — French gardens — Native dances — Beehives — Fruit.
BY the 22nd of January, the date of our arrival at Faranah, I had so far recovered as to be able to walk a few miles each day. My usual plan was to walk in the early morning until the sun got oppressive, when I retired to the hammock until about eleven. About this hour I used to halt in a shady spot, by a stream, and have my breakfast while the carriers cooked their food and rested. A halt till two or three o’clock gave my “boy” time to prepare my meal and to have his own food and a rest before we again set out. On one of these occasions, just after I had halted, I noticed the unusual spectacle of two Europeans in hammocks with a number of carriers coming towards me. One of the two proved to be a lady, while the other was her husband. They stopped, and we had a few minutes’ conversation. They were on their way to Kissidougou, a large French post in the south of Guinea. He was the director of the telegraphs, and they had but lately arrived from France. The lady had the characteristic vivacity and charm of her countrywomen; she was nursing a young bushfowl which they had picked up on the road, and which had hurt its leg. The poor little bird’s bright eyes wore a terrified look, but this soon began to disappear under the gentle treatment of its kind mistress. The lady had never been out of her native land previously, and was much interested in the strange sights of West African bush life.
Faranah is the first place of any size and importance on the Niger. It consists of a native population of about 2000, and a dozen Frenchmen. The native town lies in a hollow, close to the banks of the river, while the Residency and European quarter are on a hill above. Faranah does a small trade in rubber and cattle, most of which are sent down to the coast port of Konakry. There is a caravanserai, or rest-house, in the town. This useful construction is found in nearly every village of any size in French Guinea, and is a great boon to the traveller. The headman of the place is charged with the duty of keeping it clean, and as it is constantly inspected by a French official, the house is usually in the best of order. The houses at Faranah are built of mud, with walls about two feet thick, and thatched roofs. They are very cool in the hot weather, but are rather cold and draughty in the rainy season, when it is a good plan to light a fire in the middle of your room.
At Faranah I stayed with the French District Commissioner, who was a most hospitable and courteous host. Here I was delighted to be able to discard my hammock, as my knee was nearly healed. A two days’ halt was necessary to collect fresh carriers, and to get information of the shooting prospects in front of me.
My intention had been to march as rapidly as possible to Kouroussa, and strike eastward from that place into the Wasulu country, which lies between the Niger and the Ivory Coast. At Faranah, however, I was informed that there was some excellent shooting to be had on the Mafou River, a tributary of the Niger, which is crossed on the road to Kouroussa. I therefore determined to halt at this stream on my way, and sample the big-game shooting in the vicinity.
On the 24th, bidding good-bye to my kind hosts, I set out. The road follows within a few miles of the Niger, which here takes a north-easterly course. The country is rather thick bush, but is well populated. Villages occur every three or four miles most of the way. The people who inhabit this part of French Guinea are Malinkés, and they are dark of complexion and stoutly built. They are a higher type than the coast negro, having probably intermarried with the Fulanis, to whom they no doubt owe their more regular features and thinner lips. They are chiefly an agricultural people, but are not fond of work in any form. The majority of them are Mussulmans.
The king of the tribe is called the “Alimamy.” He has a large court, chiefly composed of his relations, who all expect to profit, either directly or indirectly, by their position. They are the channel of communication between him and his people. His council is composed of the headmen of the villages, and rich native traders. The council decides all matters of dispute with other tribes. The decision for making peace or war rests with them, and, in the event of the king’s death it is this body who elects the new Alimamy.
Villages are organized on the same lines, each village having a chief, assisted by his council of influential villagers. The tribe is divided into two portions, those who are free, and those who are captives.
The free portion of each tribe is again divided into five castes:
(1) The Horos, who are citizens.
(2) The Sohrés, weavers.
(3) The Garangis, or shoemakers.
(4) The Hrabis, or blacksmiths.
(5) The Yellimanis, or jesters.
The Horos are the only class from which chiefs and headmen can be selected. They are the predominant caste, and all the others are their menials.
Horos can only marry in their own class. The other people can marry amongst themselves as they please.
The Hrabis are looked on with great contempt, corresponding in caste to the sweeper class of India. It is uncertain what was the origin of this, but there is a story connected with Mohammed and a blacksmith which probably accounts for it. It is said that the Prophet was once pursued by some infidels, and concealed himself in the trunk of a tree near the spot where a blacksmith was at work. The latter was on the point of betraying Mohammed’s hiding-place when he was struck blind by God. Mohammed, when he issued from the tree, is supposed to have cursed the blacksmith and all his kind.
The Yellimanis are a very obnoxious class. They spend their time in abusing those who do not give them any money, while they sing the praises of their patrons. Every chief has an entourage of these jesters. They are often equipped with musical instruments, and form a sort of band which precedes him wherever he goes.
Families have always some animal which is their particular aversion, or evil spirit. It may be a lion, or leopard, or crocodile, or some such beast. For example, it is supposed that if a man’s evil genius was a crocodile, and he should eat some of this animal’s flesh, it would give him some terrible skin disease, such as leprosy.
The captives, or slaves, are of course not now officially recognized by the French. Any man who is a slave can at once obtain his freedom by applying to the nearest Commissioner. It shows how contented these captives usually are with their lot, when it is noticed that they very rarely ask to be made free. They are well treated, are not hard worked, and get free board and lodging. These slaves were taken from various tribes during the intertribal warfare which raged in this part of West Africa for many years. In most cases these people have quite forgotten the country of their origin, and are perfectly content to remain with their masters. A slave, when he has gained his freedom, can be permitted to join any of the above-mentioned castes, or may marry into any of them. His position is therefore superior to that of a Hrabi. The captive lives with the members of the family, and is in every way treated as one of them.
On the 26th of January I arrived at the Mafou River, where I had great hopes of getting some elephant. These animals were reported by the natives to come down here at this time of year. On the river there was a certain palm of which they were very fond. Native information is, of course, frequently the only kind available, but it is also far from reliable. The negro, when interrogated, will give the answer that comes easiest to him, and will usually say what he thinks will most please you. So I was far from placing too much faith in their reports. Having procured two native hunters, I sent them out to get news of the whereabouts of the elephant, and in the meantime decided to try my luck with a third hunter after waterbuck and kob, of which I had seen traces in the neighbourhood. The banks of the Mafou River are swampy and the ideal home of kob.
Here I managed to secure a fine beast, with the best head I had yet shot in West Africa. Pleased with my day’s sport I returned to my camp at the village that afternoon, hoping to get some good news from my hunters. I was therefore much disappointed to be told that the elephant had not been seen in that district for some weeks, and the tracks seen by the hunters were at least a month old. I had myself that morning seen elephant tracks, close to a place where they had evidently been in the habit of bathing in the Mafou River. These tracks were likewise some weeks old. As there seemed no prospect of elephant in the neighbourhood, I decided to follow my original plan of pushing on with as little delay as possible to the Wasulu country.
The next day I continued my journey to Kouroussa. It was always my custom to set out in the morning, just before daylight, and to have a start of about half an hour on my carriers. In this way one often got a chance of a shot at game while it was feeding within range of the bush path, and had not been disturbed by passers-by. I used to wear boots with noiseless soles, finding this a good plan for enabling me to approach without being heard. A bush path is a very sinuous affair as a rule, and it frequently happens that one suddenly turns a corner and comes in sight of game, quite as unaware of the proximity of man as you are of its presence. One morning, while walking thus ahead of my carriers, I suddenly espied a small duiker dart across the road, and was fortunate enough to get a snapshot at it before it disappeared into the bush. It proved to be a “crowned duiker,” a beautiful little animal, only fifteen inches high. This small antelope is of a bright yellowish fawn colour, with remarkably long and pointed ears. The tail was short and blackish, more like the tail of most oribis. The horns were very small and delicate, but this little beast is uncommon, so my delight at securing it was great; moreover, I had never before seen it wild. The habit of all duikers is to conceal themselves in the bush, consequently one does not often see them unless a drive is organized, and this to me always appears rather an unsportsmanlike procedure.
This little antelope derives its name “crowned” from the dainty crownlike tuft on the top of its head. The duiker probably falls a victim, more than any other kind of antelope, to the native hunter. His method of killing game is distinctly brutal. When the bush is ready to be burnt, a number of hunters collect together and proceed with the boys of the village to the scene selected for the sport. The hunters line up at a suitable place, on a path, down-wind. The boys are sent to drive the game in the direction of this path out of the bush. Their procedure is as follows: each person being equipped with a tomtom, an old tin, or some similar article capable of producing a noise, sets to work to make a tremendous din. At the same time the grass is set on fire. The unfortunate animals in the bush, scared out of their senses, dash the only way open to them, viz. towards the path on which are the hunters. As they appear, at a range of a dozen yards or less, they are received with a volley of scraps of old metal, iron nails and sharp stones, fired from the flint-lock guns of the sportsmen. The din is deafening, missiles are flying in all directions, and the carnage amongst the luckless little beasts is great. At the same time the shooting is decidedly wild, and it is a matter of congratulation that this is the case, for the slaughter is not so terrible as it would otherwise be. It is a marvel that these people do not often kill one another by their wild shooting. It is true occasionally a maimed native is seen who admits that he has been crippled in this manner, but on the whole the casualties are not so large as might be expected.
Baro Village in the Kouroussa District of French Guinea
The people of this district suffered very severely in the Sofa wars. King Samory spread fire and sword throughout the land, and carried off many of the people into slavery. The inhabitants of Baro have only returned and rebuilt their houses in recent years. They have the downtrodden, low-spirited nature of men who have lived many years in captivity.
Another favourite method of killing game is by trapping it. The ordinary form of trap is a long barricade of sticks and palm leaves, built up to a height of several feet. At intervals in this hedge there are narrow openings, with a running noose cunningly concealed on the far side. A drive is organized and the animals are frightened through the bush in the direction of this barricade. On finding the openings they naturally endeavour to escape by them, but are caught by the noose as they struggle through. Traps of this nature are set for birds, as well as other small game. These barricades are frequently built as much as a mile long. Yet another form of trap I have often met with is simply a pit, dug to a depth of six or seven feet, at the bottom of which is planted a stake, having the sharpened end sticking vertically upwards, ready to impale the unfortunate animal which falls upon it.
The pits are usually covered over with leaves, and are thus invisible to the unsuspecting victim. These snares are often as dangerous to strangers as to game, on account of this invisibility, and it is dangerous to wander in the bush of a hunting country without a local guide. On one occasion one of my porters strayed away from camp after dark. In the morning he was not forthcoming to carry his load when all was ready for the start. A comrade suddenly recollected that he had gone towards the bush the previous night, and it transpired that he had not since been seen. Search parties were at once organized and despatched in search of him. After some time they returned with a very pitiable-looking object, whose clothes were torn, and whose nether garments were smeared in blood. This proved to be the lost carrier. He had fallen into a hunter’s pit some distance from camp, and all his cries for help had not been heard. Fortunately he was more frightened than hurt, and certainly profited by his experience, for he never wandered into strange bush again!
We had now left the belt of oil-palm country behind. The chief product of this district was rubber. The rubber is here the product of the rubber vine, and is seen in some quantities growing in the bush. But the majority of the rubber of French Guinea is grown in the east of the colony.
In the farms one notices particularly rice, maize and ground nuts. The latter is a pretty little plant with a small yellow flower. The nuts themselves grow on the roots in the ground, something after the fashion of a potato. The fruit is ripe after the plant has flowered. On one plant will be found as many as fifty nuts. They are much relished as a form of diet by the native, while the oil of the nut is a valuable thin oil, much used in Europe for making fine soaps, scents, and as a dressing similar to salad oil.
In the bush it is of the greatest use as a lamp oil, but must first be purified by straining through a thin cloth. For about three months I used nothing else, and found the light as good as that of a kerosene lamp.
The trader one encounters in the bush is the native trader, called the “Dioula.” The European trader is only met with on the coast, or in the biggest markets of the interior. The term Dioula merits a word of explanation. These people are supposed to have originally been wandering Mohammedan merchants, but now the term applies to any travelling trader. The Dioula is a very thrifty individual, usually commencing life in a most humble way. He probably leaves his village with only a few francs in his pocket, which he exchanges at a suitable opportunity for some article of commerce, such as salt. He then travels a bit nearer to the coast, exchanging his salt for rubber or perhaps ground nuts. This process he continues, constantly bartering one article for another, until he finally reaches the coast. Here he purchases cloth, or some such European goods, and works his way back to the interior, bartering as he goes. These traders often accumulate quite big fortunes by their keen business instincts.
Kouroussa lies on a bare open plateau, overlooking the Niger. It is the centre of the district of the same name, and is increasing in size and importance daily. The cause of its growth is the Guinea Railway, emanating from the coast port of Konakry, and destined to reach Kouroussa in a very short time. The total length of this line will be about 400 miles. The object of the railway is to tap the trade of the Futa Jallon region, and the fertile country on the banks of the Niger. As the Niger is more or less navigable from Kouroussa for canoes and quite small lighters, this will also open out a line of communication from the interior of the Soudan and French Guinea to the coast.
When I arrived at Kouroussa I went to pay my respects to the Commissioner. I found him contemplating a ruined building with a rueful eye. It was all that remained of his house. When I had introduced myself to him he proceeded to explain that the previous night his house had been burnt to the ground. The act was attributed to the spite of a native, who had been punished by him for some misdemeanour. Unfortunately it was difficult to collect proof against the man, and it appeared as if he would escape from the hands of justice. The people of this town are a strange mixture of several tribes. At or near this point three great races meet—the Susus, from South-Western Guinea, the Malinkés, from the south of the colony, and the Fulanis, from Futa Jallon, in the west. The consequence is that a hybrid race formed by the intermarriage of these different clans has sprung up. The natives are perhaps a higher class than the ordinary negro of Guinea. They inherit from the Fulanis a finer type of features, thinner lips and more aquiline noses. Their hair, however, remains woolly, and stamps them as undoubtedly negroid. They are chiefly agriculturists. Some, however, are cattle-men, owning considerable herds. They are distinctly lazy; this, perhaps, is hardly to be wondered at, as their country is fruitful and it needs but little work to get a living out of the soil. Besides, a man need only gather a small quantity of rubber in the bush to gain a livelihood.
At Kouroussa the French officials have a fine garden. Almost every kind of European vegetable is grown by them. The garden is personally supervised by one of the officers, who has a large number of native gardeners under his orders. From one year’s end to another they are never without some sort of vegetables. The garden is planted on the banks of the Niger, so that a constant supply of water is available. There is also a well-stocked fruit plantation, where one can enjoy a variety of tropical fruits such as oranges, pomegranates, bananas, etc. The French show a particular aptitude for gardening, and it was a point which struck me very forcibly that in almost every station where there was a European, a good garden would be found. On one evening of my stay at Kouroussa I witnessed the interesting and rather weird spectacle of a native dance. This particular dance was performed by some young girls, to the accompaniment of much tomtoming and cheering from the assembled throng of admiring onlookers.
These girls were dressed in short skirts, much resembling a ballet-dancer’s skirt, but made out of a sort of bulrush very common in these parts. The bodice was a brightly coloured native cloth, twisted gracefully round the breast and waist. On the head was worn a bonnet of plumes of various hues. We were escorted to the place of honour by the side of the chief, who then clapped his hands as a sign for the performance to commence. The spectators were thronged in a circle round him, many being provided with tomtoms and musical instruments of all descriptions.
At the given signal the dancers dashed into the ring, joining hands and advancing with a graceful swinging step towards the chief, the tomtoms all this time playing a slow measure. The music gradually became faster and faster, while the dancers increased their pace in unison with it. Turning and twisting their lithe bodies, they now retired, at every step the music waxing faster and their pace becoming more frenzied. This performance was repeated many times, until the pace was so rapid and the dancers had got so exhausted as to no longer be able to keep time with the music. At this moment they flung themselves on the ground before the chief and the tomtoms simultaneously ceased beating. It appeared evident that it was now we were expected to show our appreciation of the skill of the dancing-girls, so we rewarded each one with a small coin, after which they retired. Similar dances were executed by individual girls; in several cases they displayed remarkable agility and grace in their movements. The spectators were untiring in their tomtoming and applause, and it was evident that this dance was a most popular one.
Dancing is a very favourite amusement among West African natives. Every tribe has its special dances, some of which are far from graceful according to our ideas. There is, however, an undeniable fascination in seeing these weird black figures leaping and pirouetting in their picturesque costumes, with the strange glow of the firelight casting mysterious shadows on them as they move backwards and forwards.
In the vicinity of Kouroussa the natives keep a number of beehives. These hives are frequently seen stuck up in high trees. They are made out of reeds bound in the form of a hollow cylinder, having the ends closed with plastered mud. One of these mud doors has a hole in the centre, providing an entrance and exit for the bees. The negro has a great liking for sweet things, so a quantity of this honey is consumed. Before it can be eaten by the European it must be strained through a piece of muslin, as it is exceedingly dirty. When properly cleaned, however, it is excellent.
Wild fruit is scarce, and in any case should be partaken of with great caution, as there are several poisonous varieties. There is a kind of wild plum which is fairly common in this part of French Guinea and has a pleasant flavour. Occasionally wild bananas and pawpaws are met with; they almost invariably indicate the site of an old, abandoned village.
Samory and the Sofas — The Sofa wars — Desertion of my “boy” — Kouroussa and Kankan — Native horses — An inhospitable reception — Kankan — Trade at Kankan — The rubber vine — Native telegraphy — Personal adornment.
MENTION has several times been made of King Samory and his Sofas. Kouroussa was for some time the centre of his plundering operations; it will therefore be advisable to give some account of this enlightened chief’s history before describing his doings in that country.
Samory came from the neighbourhood of Bobodjilassu, an important town between the north of the “Gold Coast Northern Territories” and the Niger. He was a Mohammedan, and became a very influential chief on account of his strong personality.
He collected an army of between 30,000 and 40,000 men, and ravaged practically the whole of what is the colony of French Guinea, as well as a portion of the French Soudan and Sierra Leone Protectorate. His troops were first composed of Mandingoes from the Middle Niger, but gradually as he advanced he absorbed large numbers of other tribes whom he had subjugated, and the whole army was designated by the name of Sofas. For fifteen years he spread terror throughout the land, on several occasions even inflicting severe reverses on the French troops he encountered. He was finally captured by the French in 1897, and died in captivity three years later. His army was too large to be concentrated for any time, so had to disperse to obtain supplies. This resulted in wholesale plunder and wanton devastation of the land. The natives hated the Sofas, who pillaged their homes and carried off their wives without any mercy.
Large districts were depopulated by their ravages; indeed, to this day the ruins of villages, which were abandoned during the Sofa wars, are frequently seen in the bush. It is only during the last few years that this part of West Africa has begun to settle down peacefully after the long period of plunder and wholesale murder which existed during the reign of King Samory.
A further cause of this prolonged warfare at this time was that when the Sofa lieutenants were not employing their soldiers on behalf of Samory, they were in the habit of letting their services out to anybody who was willing to pay for them. This system naturally led to a number of local small wars, thus further aggravating the harm done by Samory and his followers.
This chief was certainly the biggest native general ever encountered by European troops in West Africa. Many of his soldiers afterwards enlisted in British and French colonial corps, and proved themselves excellent fighting material.
In Kouroussa market-place there is a large baobab tree, under which Samory used to hold court. Here he used to try his prisoners, and here they used to be executed. That tree must have seen some horrible sights in its day. What tales it could tell of murder and injustice committed under its shady boughs! Baobab trees are common in these parts; nearly every village possesses one, and it is under these spreading branches that the chief and his followers are wont to sit and gossip during the heat of the day.
One of my carriers about this time was an oldish man, who had been a young warrior in Samory’s army. He used to relate some blood-curdling stories over the camp fire at night of the atrocities committed by that chief. The carrier had himself, it appeared, been a participator in some cruel acts. On one occasion he was sent with a party to exact tribute from a refractory town, with orders to inform the people they would be plundered and their town burnt unless they complied. He described with a great show of pride how he first extorted twice the required sum, and then proceeded to massacre the unfortunate, helpless inhabitants. Little wonder that Samory’s soldiery was feared and mistrusted in those days of plunder and bloodshed.
On the morning of the 31st I had given my “boy” particular orders to call me early, in order to start on my way to Kankan. About five o’clock I woke, and could see no signs of my servant. This surprised me, as he was usually very punctual. I called, but receiving no reply, went out to investigate the cause of his non-appearance. On entering the kitchen it became evident that he had run away, for all his personal property had been removed. I never saw him again, and can only conclude that he had found the journey rather harder work than he had bargained for, and had decided to return to his native land before it was too late.
This incident was extremely annoying just as I was about to start for my shooting-ground, and I was much afraid it would be impossible to get a “boy” suited to my requirements in the place. Fortune, however, favoured me, and the District Commissioner assured me he would be able to procure a cook who could speak French and Bambara in a few hours. I decided to march off, on the understanding that the “boy” would follow and meet me that evening in camp. True to his promises, the Commissioner sent me the servant, who remained with me until I reached Timbuctu. His name was Mamadu; he had many faults and was hardly the sort of “boy” I should have chosen, but I was lucky to get one at all, and after all he possessed one or two good qualities, and could bake bread better than any native servant I had yet had.
Mamadu’s chief fault was his irrepressible tongue. I made many efforts, both by gentle and strong means, to curb this bad habit while he was with me, but have to acknowledge complete failure. Incessant chatter is a failing of most negro tribes, but I never met such an inveterate talker as Mamadu before, nor am I likely to do so again. At night he would be talking when one wanted to go to sleep, and in the early morning I was generally wakened by his unceasing chatter. When he slept and what he had to talk about were two problems I never succeeded in solving.
At Kouroussa the Niger is about 250 yards wide, and here there is a canoe ferry to the point on the opposite shore where the Kankan road commences. As I mentioned before, the Niger is partially navigable from here to Bamako, a distance of about 200 miles. Navigation is frequently interrupted by sandbanks, which are fairly common in this part of the stream. At such places canoes have to be unloaded, and the contents carried to the other side of the obstruction, where fresh canoes are in waiting— a somewhat tedious and slow process.
There is a remarkable scarcity of waterfowl on the Niger above Bamako. I do not recollect seeing a single duck or goose on this section of the river, although occasionally I saw a few teal. It is true that the river was rather dry at this time, but I was informed by French officials that it was very unusual to find duck at any time of year in the upper reaches of the Niger.
The country between Kouroussa and Kankan consists of rather thick bush, except for a stretch of more open grass-land between the Niger and its tributary the Niandan. Rice is rather scarce in this region. The native lives principally on sweet potatoes and cassada. The Niandan is a stream of no great size, but with a very rapid current. It is not too deep to be fordable, but the swiftness of the current makes it dangerous to try the experiment. It was here that I first saw horses in any numbers during my journey, so we were evidently out of the tsetse fly belt, which is so fatal to these animals. An old chief rode up to the stream as we arrived, mounted on a horse with gay trappings, and his toes thrust into the curious, heavy iron stirrups always used in West Africa. The saddles are made of wood, with a high back, and are extremely hard, although not otherwise uncomfortable. The wickedest part of the saddlery is the bit. This is made of rough iron, having a ring through which the animal’s tongue is thrust, and a cruel spike so fashioned as to stab the roof of the horse’s mouth each time the reins are pulled; the inevitable consequence being that a horse’s mouth is almost always spoilt when he is young, and is usually in a lacerated condition. Malinkés are good riders, but atrocious horsemasters. Horses are generally ridden too young, frequently getting their backs strained from this cause. Animals here average about thirteen hands or less, and it is seldom that a good beast is seen, owing to the system of inbreeding which prevails.
The horses in this part of the country are not bred locally, but are imported from the south of French Soudan. Indeed, I much doubt if horses are ever bred in French Guinea, or anyhow in the eastern half of the colony.
The native’s chief delight is to gallop. He will often be seen careering along at racing speed, for no reason whatever except that he appears to think that the horse is only born to carry him at the top of its pace. These people are very fond of horse-races. Here, too, their one idea is to gallop hard the whole distance. Their knowledge of the staying powers of their animals seems to be strangely lacking. The result is that their horses finish at a snail’s pace and are quite exhausted. Besides, horses are generally grass-fed, and consequently very soft. In spite of all the bad treatment he suffers from, the native pony is frequently a hardy little animal, capable of doing a long day’s work, making one wonder what he might not be able to do if breeding were carefully attended to and the animals were well looked after.
I had no difficulty all this time in keeping the larder well supplied with birds, while an occasional buck brought joy to the carriers’ hearts. Bush-fowl and guinea fowl were sufficiently numerous in the farms on the roadside to provide for my wants. The day of my arrival at Kankan I had started in the morning, as was my custom, before the carriers, with my shot-gun on my shoulder, intending to do a little shooting on the way. Having secured all I wanted, I pressed on to the town, accompanied by one man to carry the birds. I have no doubt I looked an extremely uncouth and grimy figure, for I had been walking for some hours, and the road was hot and dusty. My costume, too, no doubt looked strange, consisting as it did of khaki shooting-breeches cut short at the knee and a rough khaki flannel shirt, open at the collar, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. In spite of my curious appearance, however, I was much amazed to be mistaken for a villain intent on taking the life of the French Commissioner! Yet such was the case.
On approaching the European quarter I observed a native policeman, whom I asked to direct me to the Commissioner’s house. This individual, to my surprise, immediately seized me and attempted to wrench the gun out of my hand. It was with difficulty that I restrained my anger in time to prevent myself striking him, so sudden and unexpected was the onslaught. Fortunately at this moment the Commissioner, hearing the commotion, came out of his office, and matters were satisfactorily explained. It appeared that some time previously a native who bore a grudge against the Commissioner had attempted to shoot him, hence the policeman had been on the alert in case of another attempt. My black friend, in the zeal of performing his duty, had jumped to the conclusion that I was a would-be assassin, and had lost no time in trying to deprive me of my gun in consequence. I was much sunburnt at that time, and it is possible that I looked to his excited imagination almost as dark as his coloured brethren! That evening I dined with the official and his wife, and we laughed heartily over the dramatic nature of my arrival into Kankan.
I was rather surprised to find a French lady so far from the haunts of civilization, but was informed that there were two more ladies, the wives of French traders, in the town. The traveller in the bush cannot but be struck with the refinement brought by a woman’s presence to a lonely West African station. Colonials necessarily grow rough in their habits when removed from the gentle influence of woman’s society. In her presence the roughest of mankind feels softened, and his better nature seems brought to the front.
Kankan is a large town of 12,000 inhabitants. It owes its importance to its position in the centre of the rubber-growing district of Guinea. Moreover, before the appearance of the white man and the consequent development of the rubber trade, Kankan had for many years been a large native market. Probably the reason of this is that it lies on the Milo River, one of the few tributaries on this bank of the Niger which are navigable to any extent. From Kankan the French traders are enabled, by using this stream, to send boats with produce direct either to Bamako or Kouroussa.
There are no less than fourteen French trading firms established at this place. Their chief business is, of course, done in rubber. In addition to rubber, a large quantity of ground nuts, rice, millet and gum copal pass through this large market, while Moors from the north of the Senegal River, and Fulanis from the Middle Niger, bring herds of cattle for sale to the town. It is indeed an amusing sight to wander through the market-place in the morning, when it is crowded with a cosmopolitan collection of coloured races. People of every shade of colour will be seen. There is the negro from the coast, with a face almost as black as coal, jostling against the reddish-complexioned Fulanis and the pale-coloured Moors, while men and women of every intermediate hue are also to be seen. The babel of voices in many different tongues is most remarkable, and the French traders used to tell me that they require interpreters in about half a dozen different languages in their stores, for so varied is the speech of their customers.
At Kankan I saw for the first time those curious bars of salt transported from the desert salt-mines of the Sahara. They are brought many hundreds of miles for sale in the interior of Guinea, where salt is an article of considerable value. These bars weigh fifty to sixty pounds, and are here sold for as much as thirty francs. In the district of Kankan nearly every native is employed collecting rubber in the bush, which he brings to the French merchants for sale. The rubber vine grows in extraordinary profusion to the north and east of the district. On the latter side its range extends into the north of the Ivory Coast Colony. The vine should not be tapped before it is four years old, when the plant is about as thick as a man’s wrist. Unless it is cut in a spiral fashion the plant will be killed. Much harm was done to the rubber trade by the natives a few years ago by the wasteful manner in which they tapped the vines. They used to make deep, circular gashes completely round them, as by this means they were able to get the sap out more easily, quite heedless of the fact that by so doing they were killing the plants. Strict legislation has now been introduced to prevent this wasteful and wanton destruction. When I first saw men tapping rubber vines I was surprised to notice they invariably rubbed the place where the incision was made with some dirty-looking liquid. I was informed that this liquid was lime juice and water, the object being to cause the rubber to agglomerate as it exuded from the incision.