Four miles from Naraguta is Jos. You have never heard of Jos? Were you however distantly connected with the tin fields Jos would loom very large in your thoughts. Comparing very small things with great ones, you can no more go to Naraguta and avoid Jos than anyone would think of going to Rome and not visiting St Peter’s. At Jos is the store of the Niger Company. Similar places, or rather places resembling it, can be found in other parts of Northern Nigeria, but Jos is essentially the store for the tin fields, albeit most of the mines are several days’ journey. The nearest store in one direction is Zaria, about four days away, and on the opposite side a small one at Jemma, about five days distant.

Many things have been said about this Niger Company’s store at Jos. Some of them were stated to me before I went out from England. They were to the effect that there would be no need to carry things on the voyage or to buy them on the Coast as “everything” could be obtained at Jos. When I reached what may be termed the Jos radius several men told me that the Jos store contained “nothing,” or that it only contained those things which I should not need. Put in practically the exact way uttered, the matter was presented that whatever was asked for at Jos would sure not to be in stock. Now, as in most extreme assertions, the truth was found between the two.

I was rather a pitiful-looking object on reaching Naraguta. My boots were literally falling to pieces. They had showed signs of distress weeks earlier, and I had tried to buy a suitable pair both at Kano and at Zaria. Kano had no such article for sale, and the only pair to be purchased at Zaria was at least 5 sizes too large. Oje had tried his hand at keeping the soles from parting from the uppers, by driving nails, extracted from small packing-cases, through the top of the welts. Faithful Oje! He had mended my brown bush-shirt, worn and torn to rags by pushing through thick growth; and, as long as they would hold together, he had sewn my tattered socks. He still “fit,” as he told me, to keep going at the boots. But they had been too severely tried. Riding across streams that reached to the knees, soaking the boots, and the next minute into a blazing sun had as effectually disintegrated the parts as a hydraulicing jet performs similar office on soil and tin. Had readers seen me in the condition at home I am sure they would have compassionately dropped a copper in my hand.

At Jos I was shod in a twinkling. Among further requirements, one was as far off from boots as a fountain pen, and that I also obtained. The pen cost no more than 6s. and has been in continual use. But there were a number of things between the two which I was unable to obtain. The Jos store, like every other institution on the tin fields, has been unable to cope with the demands made upon it. The demands have grown at a greater ratio than supplies could be forwarded.

The store is an immense convenience. No matter how well equipped a man’s belongings may be when he brings out the hundred-and-one things necessary for a fairly-long residence in a new country where food is only obtainable in limited quantities, it is certain that he will have made some miscalculation of needs. Thus Jos sets the fashion in many things.

There is a shortage of stationery, and you receive envelopes made by your correspondents in the country: crude and awkward and very inartistic, but the best that can be done under the circumstances. Suddenly comes along an ordinary envelope, and then, whoever sends you a letter, you will find using this identical kind of envelope. The Jos store has had a stock of stationery!

So with smoking requisites. There have been times when men have had no alternative between either using the Contrabanda cigarettes sent out for natives and sold in boxes at 1s. 9d. a 100 or smoking nothing at all. Then, day after day, whoever you meet has between his lips a Three Castle cigarette, or it may be a Gold Flake cigarette, or, perchance, a State Express. Everybody is sporting the same brand, whatever it be. Answer why: Jos has received a consignment.

It is peculiar how shortage of articles affects different people. Unto me, who had come from England to learn all about the country, were brought many complaints and expostulations.

“Is it not bad,” said one, “that I can buy no flour?”

“What do you think?” remarks another. “I can get no biscuits.”

“Here none of us can buy a cigarette anywhere,” is the agonised wail of a third. And so on, almost indefinitely.

To each and all I replied that I felt I was a greater sufferer than any. To every tale of woe, I represented my own plight and endeavoured, I must admit unsuccessfully, to play the martyr by setting forth the pathetic tale that “I cannot obtain either ink or paper.”

The Finance Department is specially interesting. There is no bank nearer than Zaria, and were it not for this Finance Department of the Niger Company the mines would have to keep very large sums of money for the labourers’ wages. It is not a banking business; money is only paid on demand. Of course, there has been a preliminary arrangement between the mining concern and the Niger Company in London by which the former guarantees to meet the cheques presented to the latter up to a stipulated sum.

That arrangement having been settled, the mine manager sends to Jos—maybe a distance of four miles, maybe a five days’ journey—for the money with which to pay his labourers weekly, presenting a cheque for the amount. The money is charged at a rateage according to where the cheque may be payable. Supposing it is drawn on the bank at Zaria, then 1½ per cent. is the rate; if it be drawn on the bank at Lokoja, which is further away, 2½ per cent. is charged.

Why this difference? In England we are not charged a larger rate for a cheque drawn on a bank at Newcastle than we do for one drawn on Birmingham. No; but in England transport charges do not enter into the question as finely as they do in Northern Nigeria. It all relates to the cost of getting up specie, which works out on the river at the rate of 1d. per £200 per mile; and, of course, land carriage adds to the expense. Cost of transport regulates the price of everything in the country, even of money.

Specie is made up into boxes, each containing £300, weighing 80 lbs. This is in silver coins, gold having practically no circulation in the country. A mine manager makes his personal provision for taking the money from the Finance Department to his own place. The usual plan is for the manager or one of his principal assistants, carrying firearms, to travel with his own carriers, who bear the money on their heads.

The Niger Company’s plan differs. A European accompanies the specie and has as a guard for it four dogarie, i.e., policemen belonging to one of the native rulers. Then, besides each carrier bearing a load, there is another between each of them as a relief. So if any of the men fall out his relief takes the load, which prevents the gang stopping or a box passing from the direct view of the European. When long journeys are undertaken stops must be made sometimes overnight, but the method of working is to get the men over the ground as quickly as can be done with as few stops as possible.

Although the Finance Department was established for the mines it is of very great service to anybody travelling through the country who may require cash. All that is necessary is a telegram from the bank where the traveller has a deposit to the Niger Company’s Finance Department authorising payment of the sum asked for. And a feature of the department is the patience and courtesy of the one in charge, Mr E. B. Simmonds, in dealing with the many matters, occasionally novel ones, which come before him from men strange to the country.

Another Niger Company department at Jos, separate from the others, is that of Transport.

Than transport no matter is of greater importance to the mines. Everything depends upon it. By “everything” is meant the primary items of food and machinery, on which all else rests. Even were the soil capable of being cultivated to an extent which would yield food for the labourers brought from other parts of the Protectorate, at least some years would have to pass before the process was in operation. Food must, therefore, be imported from the districts where it is grown.

It has been said there is not sufficient food in the country to satisfy the requirements of the 12,000 or so labourers on the mines. As, with insignificant exceptions, these labourers are all natives of Northern Nigeria, and no foodstuff to speak of crosses the border inwards, it is obvious that previous to coming on the tin fields they must have eaten indigenous products. I am sure that any difficulty in obtaining sufficient labour is largely, if not wholly, a question of food supply, and that supply cannot flow unless there are efficient channels for its passage: transport.

There is the general problem of labour on the mines and the rate of payment by the owning companies, but consideration of that aspect of the question does not come within the scope of this chapter, which is to deal wholly with the matter of supply. The same means, on the return journey, are employed to take the tin towards its destination. Transport from railhead at Rahama and also at the terminus of the trunk line at Kano is wholly in the hands of the Niger Company, except in the case of one or two mines that have partially made their own arrangements.

To survey the situation thoroughly it is necessary to hark back to the time when the railway was being pushed up as extensions of the Lagos line and had only reached Rigachikun, 585 miles from the sea. That marked the old route to the Bauchi Plateau tin fields. From that point a road was made. As the line was laid further up, Zaria, 622 miles, was touched. That had all along been recognised as the most suitable place for direct access to the foot of the Plateau, in the direction where the main tin deposits had been located. There was, however, about 100 miles between the railway and the foot of the Plateau, to the south-west of the line.

At this time the Niger Company was doing all transport to and from the mines. Twelve to 14 days were occupied on the Rigachikun road, and a fair proportion of goods was sent up and tin brought down along the Loko-Keffi route, on the opposite side of the Plateau, for shipment on the Benue River, thence down the Niger to the sea. But in looking into this important matter of road transport, perhaps it will be best to start at the inception.

It began between five and six years ago, when the Niger Company commenced regular prospecting for tin. Before that time the only whites up-country were the Government officials, and as they were few and far between there was no call for transport, even of the primitive and limited kind in operation to-day. The Niger Company’s prospecting camps needed supplies, both of food for the squads of natives employed and of material for the engineers, as well as edibles for their tables. So small caravans of carriers were sent up to the camps. The route was then what is known as the Loko-Keffi one; that is to say, from the sea by river to Loko, from which point the overland line was taken to Keffi, almost due east.

At that time the amount despatched, inwards and outwards, was probably 5 tons monthly. Now by rail to Rahama, and from there distributed via the Niger Company’s Jos centre, it must average 500 tons monthly, with about 14 tons still going over the old Loko-Keffi route.

As the various tin-mine companies were formed and proceeded with their operations, transport became a first-value consideration. You have only to plant yourself in a virgin country and depend upon outside supplies for sustenance to realise that. Folks in England, with everything brought to their doors—parcel post and carrying agencies playing the part of universal provider—can scarcely appreciate what it means to have a single slender source of supply, and that necessarily an uncertain one. Try the real simple life under these conditions, not a few hours from the railway or navigable river, but five to seven days’ journey. Then you will understand how much gratitude you can feel towards people whom you are glad to pay at their own figure for what they bring; and you are also sure to discover what a wealth of strong language you can employ without an effort when you are disappointed in such small items as kerosene, or flour for bread-making. You may afterwards wonder at your linguistic aptitude, you who at home never uttered an expletive under normal annoyances and disappointments; yet in most instances the tongue accomplishment comes in the easiest and most natural manner possible. I marvel at my own deficiency in that respect.

It was the Niger Company’s organisation which supplied the indispensable adjunct of lines of communication to the various mining camps. The Company had all the human machinery working. There was none other, and therefore the system which was wanted and that available adjusted themselves accordingly. It only had to be expanded. True, the expansion could not be made on a scale commensurate with the needs of the hour. But what would have occurred had that organisation not been available? Each camp would have had to make its own transport arrangements. That would have resulted in confusion, if not chaos. The competition for labour has been bad enough. Imagine what it would have meant for the mining concerns to have scrambled for carriers as well, whose services were in more urgent demand than ordinary labourers.

I am no special pleader for the Niger Company, but I do consider it due to that body to state that the tin-mining industry would have been in a much more backward state had the Company not taken the part it has in the development of the fields. I have been told that if the Niger Company had not—in the matter of transport and its Finance Department—somebody else would. Possibly. That does not alter the principle of merit being given where earned. Were I not here writing these despatches probably someone else would; and there is no doubt scores would be glad to do it. Yet surely that would be a poor argument against awarding any reward there might be due to the individual who did the work.

So, too, it has been said that the Niger Company was actuated by self-interest; that it was not philanthropic. Who is, in business? If the Niger Company has profited by its enterprise it deserved to. It at the same time helped—or, at all events, enabled—others to thrive. I am free to admit that occasionally it has among the employees a member whose manner leaves something to be desired. Any more than elsewhere, there is no monopoly of boorishness and rudeness by any class in Northern Nigeria. It is quite the exception, though here and there are bad examples. I found it in the case of a mining engineer whom I met on horseback—an awfully important personage whose silly pomposity made me laugh, where he looked for my being impressed—and, whisper it not in Gath, I have even come across one or two Government officials whom you would not recognise for gentlemen, though they would have you think they were far from the common clay. Yea, in a certain place, no doubt taking their cue from the head of it, there is a small collection of such freaks, with a few men among them who must not be so labelled.

The Niger Company looms so large in the acquisition and in the industry of the country that, like the Government at home, it is a big object at which to have a shy; and, I cannot avoid thinking, blamed at times as unreasonably as is the London Cabinet whatever its political complexion.

I have said the road and bush transport began on a regular scale between five and six years ago. Then it was confined to human head carriage. After a while donkeys were tried on a small scale, and their use has been extended during the dry seasons. Two years ago 10 two-wheeled bullock transport carts were put on to connect Loko and Keffi, and since then others, and also four-wheeled wagons, with teams of 8 and 16 oxen, have been working between Rahama and Jos.

A few camels were formerly employed, but not continued, as the animals are not obtained without difficulty in Nigeria; the nearest market for them on anything but a small scale is over the French border, though some are still utilised for transport from Kano to the Ninghi district. Now, I hear, the long-expected motor lorries have arrived at Baro and are to be running on the road in the course of the next few weeks. I am informed that Mr Kendall, the Niger Company’s chief transport officer at Jos, is considering whether bullocks, which need extreme care to keep in a condition, cannot be superseded by horses. In no part of Nigeria are they used in any other way than for riding, with the exception of a pair Captain Brocklebank has trained to draw a buggy at Kano.

The relative values of the given forms of transport are: Head carriage, one man bears a 60-lb. load; a donkey takes a 120-lb. load; each bullock in a two-wheeled cart draws a 500-lb. load; one camel bears a 420-lb. load; one motor lorry carries a 4,400-lb. load.

Donkeys are not bought outright. The animals and their owners are hired. Each man has three donkeys under his personal supervision on the march. These quadrupeds are generally spoken of as a synonym for stupidity. In Nigeria they develop acumen which puts the human controller in a quandary where he perceives a divided duty. The load, placed pannier fashion, is not tied on. Its weight keeps it in position. But the four-footed bearer will take into his head to ease the task by walking close against a tree in a way that throws the entire load to the ground.

The donkey owner has to catch the erring beast, which, light-hearted at its sudden buoyant condition, has likely run on ahead. Brought back after a chase, the man has then to lift the 120 lbs. to the original position. You may be sure that in the meantime the companion pair of donkeys have improved the shining hour by roaming around, usually in opposite directions; or, if they do go together, it will probably be back on the path along which they came. The combined trio performance may be coincidental; it may be arrant conspiracy.

Whatever it be, the donkey owner and the white man in charge of a caravan numbering hundreds of the patient little brutes must be endowed with a large and double-distilled philosophic temperament not to exhibit loss of a calm exterior.

I must bear testimony to a measure that is being taken to add to the comfort of the human transport carriers. The Niger Company is forming at eight-mile stages rest camps of huts, with caretakers and women to cook the carriers’ food. The carriers will thus be able to rely on having meals, and a day’s march not arbitrarily fixed by the position of villages from one another.

A few words on recruiting for carriers. The labour is obtained in the open markets. Men from the mines are not accepted knowingly, so as to avoid dislocating local conditions. Gangs who have been working on a mine and who present themselves at Jos must bring from the manager under whom they served his permission to enter the Niger Company’s service before they are enrolled. Forty labourers and Headmen who had been on the Bisichi mine applied and were declined for the reason indicated. Remembering how strong is the demand for carriers, this is “playing the game” as it should be played, and it deserves recognition.