LIFE AT KAMINA
There seems to be no end to trouble when filming cinema plays in
equatorial Africa. No sooner had I recovered from my bout of malarial
fever than our leader and producer, Major Schomburgk, was stricken down
with it, and everything was at sixes and sevens once more.
However, I employed my interval of enforced leisure in making my
temporary home as comfortable as possible, and in getting acquainted
with the natives, and so managed to pass the time pleasantly and
profitably enough.
My nicest hours were those spent before my hut between four o'clock and
dark, after the day's work was done. Then I took my tea, and passed the
time of day with the women and girls who came with huge calabashes on
their heads to get water.
At first they used to hurry by shyly, with eyes downcast, and without
speaking. But I laughed and smiled at them, and by degrees, after
the first day or two, we became quite friendly. They were chiefly
interested in my needlework and my hair. Then one day a thunderstorm
broke suddenly while they were near, and I invited them into my hut
for shelter and set my gramophone playing. This delighted them
immensely, although for a long while they seemed to be more or less
frightened of it.
There are some sweet girls amongst them, and many of them are quite
modest in their demeanour, and well-behaved, although in the matter of
clothes, of course, they have not much to boast of. The young unmarried
girls are some of them quite pretty, with lithe graceful figures,
beautifully proportioned busts, and well-shaped arms and shoulders.
All of them have to work hard, however, and the existence of the
married women especially seemed to me to be one continuous round of
drudgery. In fact, the daily life of a native wife out here might
well serve the advanced suffragettes at home as a typical, "terrible
example" of what my sex has to put up with from "tyrant man."
She has to rise at dawn, sweep out the homestead, fetch water from the
river, often far away, do the scanty family washing, tread out the
corn, grind it to flour and make it into porridge, gather and prepare
for food various wild roots, herbs, and vegetables, cook the family
meals, wash and tend the children, and perform a hundred and one other
similar duties, while her lord and master is, for the most part,
quietly resting "in the shade of the sheltering palm."
Nevertheless, I am bound to say that the women do not appear to mind
it, but seem, on the contrary, to be quite happy and contented. And
indeed their lives compare very favourably on the whole with the lives
led by many married women of the lower classes in the great cities of
England, Germany, and elsewhere.
The native husband is, as a rule, of a good-natured and kindly
disposition, tolerant to a fault almost, and passionately fond of his
children. Domestic quarrels are rare, and "nagging" on the part of
the wife--that great source of strife amongst the lower classes in
Europe--is practically unknown in Africa. Then, again, if there are no
palaces in Togoland, there are likewise no slums. Everybody is well
housed, according to native standards, and they have plenty to eat. The
children especially are well looked after in this latter respect. There
is no "under feeding" of _them_, at all events, and a Togo mother would
probably regard as an insult any offer on the part of the State to
provide "free meals" for her offspring.
The worst class of natives to get along with are those who have been
brought continually into association with Europeans, and have acquired
thereby an exaggerated notion of their own importance. Our chief
interpreter, for instance, required at first a good deal of keeping in
his place, although his views on life and things in general used to
afford me considerable amusement.
[Illustration:
_By permission of_ _Maj. H. Schomburgk, F.R.G.S._
CINEMA ACTING IN THE WILDS
The authoress is here shown playing a part in a cinema drama, "The
White Goddess of the Wangora." The big trunk in the background is that
of a very large "cotton tree," regarded as sacred by the natives.
The small tree in the foreground, against which she is leaning, is a
pawpaw, valued for its refreshing fruit.]
One day, for instance, seeing me rather downcast--it was when I was
recovering from my illness--he surprised me by offering to sing to me.
I thanked him, and told him to get on with it, expecting to hear some
ordinary tuneless native ditty. Instead, he greatly astonished me by
singing, in a fairly passable voice, some very nice songs in German.
I complimented him, and asked him where he had learnt them. He said,
"At the Catholic Mission." Then he went on to inquire whether I had a
mother still living, and on my answering him in the affirmative, he
remarked: "I, too, have a mother, a dear good woman, and twenty-five
brothers and sisters."
I suppose I looked the astonishment I felt, for he hastened to add that
his father had five wives. "My father," he remarked, "is a fine big
man, with a good figure, and in Togo, if a man has a good figure, he
can get plenty of wives."
As my interpreter possessed what he called "a good figure," I asked him
if he had many wives. "Oh no," he replied, in quite an offended tone,
"I am a scientist, and I only have one wife."
"How scientist?" was my next question, spoken quite gravely.
"Well," he replied, "I understand German."
"And does your wife understand German too?" I inquired.
"Oh dear, no," he answered, "that is forbidden amongst us, because we
hold that it is not good for a woman to be educated."
"And why, pray?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "supposing I return home to-night and issue some
instructions to my wife, she would probably, assuming her to have been
educated, reply: 'Talk to yourself, my husband, not to me; you cannot
teach me anything; I am as clever as you are.' As it is, however, she
just obeys my instructions, and says nothing. It is better so."
I was inclined to laugh just at first at this example of negro
philosophy, when it suddenly struck me that I had listened to very
similar sentiments expressed by men in far more civilised communities.
"The girl I shall choose for my wife," I once overheard an eminent
lawyer remark, "will not be one of your new-fangled sort, all fads and
fancies, but one of the good old-fashioned kind, who will faithfully
minister to the comfort of my home and willingly share my bed."
London lawyer and Togo interpreter--there was scarcely a pin to
choose between them as regards their outlook on marital life and its
duties and obligations. Both cherished at bottom precisely the same
sentiments, and neither's ideal of femininity was one whit higher than
the other's.
I also had some differences with my cook. He demanded a lot of money
for "extras," and so forth, and the results were, as a rule, distinctly
disappointing. I was especially struck with the toughness and
tastelessness of the meat served at table, until I discovered, quite
by accident, that he was in the habit of making soup out of it for his
family and relations, we getting the solid--very much solid--residuum.
After that I insisted, much against his wish, in superintending his
culinary operations, with the result that we got good palatable food at
about one-half the cost.
My best servant, or at all events the one I liked best, was a young
girl of about fourteen or fifteen, who acted in our dramas, and was my
personal attendant between whiles. She was a really nice little lassie,
with no nonsense about her, and an excellent taste as regards the most
suitable native attire for me to wear in our various plays, and the
best way to drape and arrange it. She, too, was a bit of a philosopher
in her way, some of her remarks being exceedingly quaint, and yet
sensible.
Once, for instance, when I was attired in evening dress for a certain
social function I was attending, she started admiring my costume,
and on the spur of the moment I said to her: "How would you like to
wear clothes such as I am wearing?" Quick as a flash came the answer:
"Ma'am, what one can never own, one must not permit one's self to
like." There is a world of meaning in that little sentence--especially
for our sex--if one stops to weigh it carefully. Nor does it
necessarily apply only to dress, but to--well, other things.
Another use I made of my enforced leisure at this time was to learn
to cycle, this being by far the easiest way of getting about in
southern Togo, where the roads are fairly good. I had several spills,
for it must not be imagined that the Togoland roads, good though they
are judged by African standards, are in any way comparable with the
macadamised highways one cycles over at home. Still, I persevered, and
after a while I became a fairly proficient rider.
One advantage I had, and that was not being hampered in any way as
regards dress. One returns to nature in equatorial Africa. No tight
skirts, but riding-breeches, in which one can move about easily.
No high heels or wafer soles, but good strong boots that are alike
serviceable and comfortable. No waved hair, because the waves would not
remain in for even half an hour in this hot, damp atmosphere.
Of course we were all the while on the look-out for suitable subjects
and settings for our pictures. I rigged up a studio out of half a hut,
and we filmed many scenes of native life and customs. Amongst other
pictures we took was one showing the daily life and work of a native
woman, as set forth above. This was entirely my own idea, and when the
films came to be developed, and shown in London later on, this one
attracted a very great deal of attention indeed.
I found, however, that the native women and girls made far worse
subjects for the camera, taking them altogether, than did the men.
It was more difficult to get them to pose, or rather, to be strictly
accurate, they were always posing whenever the camera started clicking,
instead of going about their natural avocations in the ordinary way,
which was what I wanted them to do. Their silly giggling, too, used to
get on my nerves, and at times made me quite angry.
[Illustration:
_By permission of_ _Maj. H. Schomburgk, F.R.G.S._
THE AUTHORESS AND "BODYGUARD" OF TSCHAUDJO HORSEMEN
Miss Gehrts is in the foreground, mounted on her favourite horse,
"Nucki." She is really playing in a native drama for the cinema, and
her "bodyguard" consists of "supers" drawn from the tribe mentioned
above, who are noted for their fearless and splendid riding.]
There were other difficulties also as regards the mechanical part
of the business. Occasionally the heat was so great that it almost
sufficed to melt the films, or even to set fire to them; and they had
to be kept stored, therefore, in a special sort of cooling case, built
on the principal of the vacuum flask. Later on, when marching in the
far north through the Togoland Sudan, the cases containing the films
had themselves to be protected from the heat by being swathed in green
banana leaves.
On October 10th I saw wild monkeys for the first time. Near my hut is
a mealie field, and they came there at noon every day to eat their
dinners. They are queer little creatures, very cunning and amusing,
but very shy, so that it is difficult to get near them and study their
antics.
Once or twice I went to a native dance, but I must confess that I was
not greatly impressed. It amused me for ten minutes or so, but as the
movements are always the same I soon grew tired of watching them. And
the noise of the native drums is simply deafening, so much so that it
generally brought on a more or less severe attack of headache.
On the night of October the 15th I had quite a little adventure. It
was bright moonlight; I could not sleep, and at eleven o'clock, when
the whole place was hushed in slumber, I was seized with the desire
to climb to the top of one of the great steel towers that have been
erected here by Baron Codelli von Fahnenfeld in connection with the
Government wireless telegraphy station, mention of which has been made
in a previous chapter.
There are no fewer than nine of these towers, varying in height from
about 250 feet, up to about 400 feet, and with an enterprise born of
ignorance and inexperience I chose the tallest of them all for my
experiment. I thought how beautiful the African landscape would look
seen from the top under the light of the tropical moon, and started on
my long climb full of hope and enthusiasm. By the time I had reached
about a third of the way up, however, all my ambition had evaporated,
and I was glad to go slowly back again. I found the climb down even
more nerve-trying than the climb up--for one thing the stimulus had
departed--and I reached the ground in a state bordering on collapse.