I approach this subject with some diffidence, as it is one so differently regarded by different individuals. No two people ever seem to agree about clothing for the tropics, so I shall not attempt to offer opinions on the merits or demerits of ‘flannel next the skin,’ etc., but shall confine myself to a few general hints, which, I hope, may be equally useful to the disciple of Jaeger and Viyella, and to the advocate of muslin and cambric.
One broad axiom that none will dispute, I may give safely: in all kinds of clothes, aim at variety rather than at super-excellence of quality and delicacy of trimming. Remember that you have to wear washing gowns all the year round, and their constant attendance at the wash-tub will destroy them very quickly if you have only three or four to ring the changes on. This applies especially to white gowns, which, cool and dainty as they are, I do not recommend very strongly, as a dusty path or a shower of rain will make them unwearable after half an hour, and back they must go to the washerman, who proceeds to forcibly illustrate the meaning of ‘wear and tear.’
Linen skirts of any colour that is not too delicate are invaluable; half a dozen of them, one or two holland, and a couple of simple muslins or cool cottons, should carry you triumphantly through your time. The woman endowed with clever fingers can, of course, add to her stock, armed with good paper patterns, lengths of unmade material, and, if she is lucky, a sewing-machine, and she will probably be very glad of the occupation for her spare time. Shirts and blouses of thin flannel, washing silk and muslin can be brought in any number that space allows—the more the better, but the local laundry cannot goffer frills and almost always tears lace! Cambric and muslin blouses of the ‘shirt’ order are the most useful kind, as silk rots almost at once. For this reason let your smarter blouses be of crêpe de chine rather than silk. Evening gowns you will scarcely want; one, or at most two simple dinner frocks, and a tea-gown to wear for dinner at home, will be ample. For the benefit of those who may have to spend some time on tour, I may mention that I derive the greatest comfort from a very thin cashmere or nun’s veiling tea-gown, or rather an elaborate dressing-gown for dinner in camp, and also find it useful as a dressing-gown during the colder part of the voyage. You will want one warm dress of the coat-and-skirt description to start your voyage in, for it is usually quite cold from Liverpool to the Canaries. It should be of the plainest tailor-made sort; once arrived in Africa you will not wear it again, probably, until you reach the same point on your way home. The same may be said of what was once described to me as a ‘human’ hat, unless it is of the very plainest; for some reason which I cannot quite define, but can nevertheless thoroughly appreciate, a ‘smart’ hat looks absolutely ludicrous out here: in fact, any tendency to over-dressing has only one effect, that of making your company, usually a few hard-working men, feel thoroughly uncomfortable. All one wants, after all, is to appear fresh, spotless and dainty, which can be best accomplished by a clean linen frock, a shady simple straw hat, a sensible sunshade and garden gloves.
If it will not quite break your heart, be advised and brush back your fringe, if you have one; it is quite impossible to keep it in curl or tidy, and the peace and comfort you will get from the absence of clammy dank wisps of short hair will amply repay you for what you may think an unbecoming change. May I also whisper that no one should allow her friends at home to persuade her to invest in an ‘artistic and invisible’ ‘transformation’; they are all too visible, and, for this country, are simply waste of money.
In Nigeria there is nearly always a breeze modifying the damp heat, which reminds me that a light cloth or flannel coat is rather indispensable for sitting outside after tennis, on cool evenings; and, when it sets to work to rain after a sultry day, one finds it very chilly in muslin, the temperature drops so suddenly and considerably, that a thin serge or flannel skirt is exceedingly comfortable.
Your riding-habit should consist of a very short skirt of moderate thickness; I am no believer in what tailors call ‘Colonial’ habits, they very seldom set so comfortably, and never wear so well as a good solid cloth; moreover, the gain in coolness is not perceptible: at least, that has been my experience, after some years in India. For underneath you will find rather loose knickers most comfortable, made of dark coloured washing material; the best is called ‘moleskin’ by breeches-makers, and is used for the thinnest kind of riding-breeches for men. Don’t have your knickers made by a habit-maker, simply have a good pattern of bicycling knickers copied; two pairs should be quite enough. A cloth coat is unnecessary; a few holland and white drill loose coats will answer much better, and, as starched collars are somewhat at a discount, soft white muslin scarves, worn like a hunting-stock, look neat and are comfortable. I think it is a considerable advantage to have your habit very short indeed, as, while touring, it is a great pleasure and variety to walk the first few miles of the march, a pleasure which is completely spoilt if you have to hold up a heavy habit skirt. Riding on tour is such crawling work, that, if you prefer it, you could quite well ride your marches in an ordinary short walking skirt, though personally I think there is no garb so entirely comfortable as well-fitting riding garments.
For those wise women who adopt the ‘astride’ position, a divided skirt is, of course, necessary. The very best is, I believe, made by Ross of Bond Street, but that, being the perfection of cut and smartness, is, naturally, an expensive investment, and for rough work in this country an ordinary divided bicycling skirt would answer perfectly, or else full bloomers worn with shooting boots and putties and a rather long-skirted coat—personally, I should advocate the latter.
Bear well in mind, there must be no trifling with your mackintosh! When it rains in West Africa, it does rain, and you want the most serious and really waterproof mackintosh obtainable. I have found that the essential point is to have it of a light weight, loose and easy to slip into, at a moment’s notice, even on a plunging frightened pony, when the tornado catches one on the march. The firm of all others for this purpose is Burberry, in the Haymarket. I doubt whether any umbrella really keeps out the rain; for ordinary use, I should advise a strong silk en-tout-cas of a dark colour that will serve equally well for sun or shower. You will also want a really big cotton umbrella, lined with green—in fact, it would be a graceful attention to bring a second one for your better half, as they are quite necessary for and constantly used by men who have to go out in the sun in the middle of the day.
It will be wise to stock yourself before leaving home with all small etceteras, such as ribbons, laces, buttons, thread, needles, etc. We cannot yet buy ‘chiffons’ in Nigeria, and, unless you bring them all with you, it entails writing home, and waiting two months for a reel of silk or a packet of needles. I remember well being utterly unable to get from market or stores a single reel of white cotton, for weeks, and my husband being reduced to wearing a highly decorative but somewhat unusual pair of amateur boot-laces made of bright crimson Hausa leather!
Boots must be fairly solid as to soles; the soil of West Africa seems to have a specially destructive effect on English leather. In Sierra Leone, for instance, the soles are worn out in a few weeks, though in Nigeria things are not so bad; for while in Sierra Leone, I walked because I loathed crawling in a hammock, here, with ponies, walking is not a bit necessary. Still, it is impossible to get boots resoled, so as to be wearable, therefore do not economize in this direction, only remember that all your foot-gear must be constantly worn or it will spoil. Blacking boots are only a vexation, they always seem sticky, and dirty one’s hands and skirts; I should recommend a stout, really stout, pair of tan laced boots for heavy walking, about half a size larger than usual, a lighter pair for ordinary wear (tan buckskin is delightfully cool and soft for the dry weather), and a couple of pairs of walking-shoes of tan or black glacé kid. It is useless to lay down anything definite, as people use their feet so differently; some are hard on boots, while others can wear them for years apparently. Of course, boot-trees have a good deal to say to the longevity of foot-gear, and, now that such light ones are to be had, three or four pairs would not be too many. I have heard it said that walking-shoes are dangerous on account of snakes, but they are far cooler than boots, and one really does not have to pick one’s way among snakes as a rule, and I have always found them a pleasant variety. About indoor shoes you will, of course, decide for yourself; I think perhaps they wear out quicker than at home—mine do, at all events, but my incessant perambulations in the garden, stables, etc., may have something to do with that! They should be glacé kid, not patent leather, on account of coolness.
Riding-boots ought to be tan, and a very easy fit; I have been told that stiffened canvas uppers and tan-leather feet constitute delightfully cool riding-boots, but I have no personal experience of them, and think one can hardly improve on good tan leather: I have never desired anything cooler, even in a Punjab hot weather. A little toilet powder sprinkled inside makes them much easier to pull on.
Mosquitoes do not deal more gently with us here than they do elsewhere; all the men wear long loose boots, made in this country, of Hausa leather; they are an absolute protection, and, if somewhat too clumsy for a lady’s wear, as a rule, they are exceedingly useful in camp. For ordinary use, a pair of black canvas gaiters, buttoned and reaching to the knee, can be worn over ordinary evening slippers. They are so neat as not to be noticeable at all, and are an absolute protection when mosquitoes are numerous and hungry.
So much for your outer woman. At the end of this chapter, I am giving a list of what appears to me the least possible supply of clothes to make you comfortable, and, bearing in mind that it takes two months to get additions out from Home, even to Lokoja, and much longer up country, you will doubtless agree that it is best to be independent. You will want a large quantity of underclothing, and, first of all, you must decide for yourself about the solidity of vests, etc. I cannot suggest hygienic principles, as I never practise them; do as you are accustomed to do, as that appears to make for comfort. I met one lady in Africa, who told me she wore merino combinations, because, having worn them always in England, she felt cold without them—and this in a mean temperature of eighty or ninety degrees!
I think perfect comfort and happiness can be found in fine cambric or nainsook combinations, or spun-silk vests and cambric knickers. I rather doubt the desirability of washing-silk under-garments, chiefly because the art of laundry work is in its infancy, and the silk shirts that I have had washed have returned distinctly hard and harsh. But the main point, in a climate like this, is to have enough of whatever you decide to wear; you will probably change everything two or three times a day, and washing is not done here in a day or two, as it is in India. Let everything be of the thinnest texture, compatible with bad washing. The Lahman underwear is excellent in its thinnest qualities, and is invariably praised by those who wear it.
A supply of old underlinen to wear on the voyage and throw overboard is invaluable; I dislike nothing more than arriving at one’s destination with a bulging soiled-linen bag, and an uncertain prospect of getting it converted into clean clothes. On the way home this is quite a simple matter; after twelve months in the hands of the gentle African laundry folk, most of your underlinen will be fit for nothing else!
At least six pairs of corsets are necessary, the coolest kind obtainable, certainly, but I can assure you that to leave off wearing them at any time for the sake of coolness is a huge mistake: there is nothing so fatiguing as to lose one’s ordinary support even with a view to being ‘comfy,’ Always wear corsets, even for tête-à-tête home dinner on the warmest evenings; there is something about their absence almost as demoralizing as hair in curling-pins!
I should avoid expensive and ‘faddy’ varieties of underclothing. I remember when I first went to India, I was induced to buy, at a guinea each, four night-dresses of some special mixture of silk and wool, which, I was told, would be ‘ideal wear’ for the Red Sea and other warm localities. Perhaps I am hopelessly prejudiced against anything resembling flannel, but I thought them horrible, and after enduring one for half an hour, they were all stowed away, to be presented to my ‘ayah’ at the first opportunity. If you think fit to wear a kamerband at night (a distinctly prudent proceeding), a yard or two of white flannel, simply torn into lengths about eighteen inches wide, and worn outside the nightdress, answers the purpose better than anything else; the nights are almost invariably cool, and usually breezy towards dawn.
With these few hints, aided by your own common sense, I think your outfit is sure to be successful and satisfactory, and your comfort and dainty appearance assured; so I need say no more, except a word or two on the subject of a sun-hat, which you must have, no matter how much your artistic feelings may rebel against it. Be sure it is large enough, for the part that needs most protection is the back of the neck, and no helmet-shaped ‘topi’ will give you real shade there. I like best the spreading, mushroom shaped wide-brimmed hat, which will fit well down over back hair and all, so that hat-pins and chin-strap can be dispensed with. A grey hat, with a grey silk puggaree looks—well, as nice as a solar topi can be made to look! With this and a couple of simple straw or Panama hats, you will need no more; the appearance of the latter can be varied by different ribbons and scarves to relieve the monotony.
If you have any favourite kinds of scent, soap or powder, bring them with you; scent and powder are not to be bought here, of course, and one’s ‘very own’ soap is a delightful small luxury everywhere. I should like to say a word for ‘Papier poudre.’ It is the greatest boon in a hot damp climate, which gives a tendency to greasiness to the best complexions, and does far less harm than the use of powder; moreover, it never leaves white streaks on nose or cheeks, even if you pass the little, scented, absorbent leaf over your face without a mirror.
Now as to boxes, and I have done.
I should strongly advise against the usual leather cabin trunks; they are so heavy that, although it is true that they fit under a berth, it is a herculean task to pull them out for anything you may happen to want. They are likewise too heavy and too large for one carrier’s load, and so are useless for camp travelling; they wear badly too under rough usage, which they are quite certain to get. Use regulation tin ‘uniform cases,’ sized approximately 36 in. × 12 in. × 15 in. This is the ideal size for a carrier’s load, which he carries on his head, steadied with one hand, so you can imagine that anything much wider than the above dimensions is a great sorrow to him. But I think, for the sake of your skirts, you might be allowed one box a little longer, say 42 in., or just long enough to take a skirt without folding; for the average carrier will make no objection as to length, so long as you consider his feelings as to width. You will find these boxes handier too in the cabin; you can put a couple of them under the sofa-berth, and feel fairly independent of the sea that comes in once or twice on every voyage. On the journey up river, on the little stern-wheelers, space is a great consideration, and a big trunk quite un-get-at-able; one feels less compunction in improvising a seat out of a tin box than out of a leather one, and seats have to be improvised very often on these occasions!
The following list is only intended as a basis to work on, and to be added to as your fancy dictates and your purse allows:—