AMONG THE BAFILO FOLK
Besides the films mentioned in the last chapter, we also took advantage
of there being an unusually large market at Bafilo in order to
photograph a series of unique moving pictures of this side--a very
important one--of the natives' daily life. It was my business, as
well as Hodgson's and Schomburgk's, to be constantly on the look-out
for fresh scenes and incidents in this connection, and between us we
managed to secure a complete representative collection.
To mention but a few of them. In one film boys are seen bargaining for
supplies of native sweets, made from flour and wild honey. Payment for
these toothsome delicacies, it may be mentioned, is made in cowrie
shells, coined money being very rarely used. The value of these shells
varies, according to distance from the coast, difficulty of transport,
and so on, from about 2500 to the shilling up to as few as 1000. In
Bafilo, they were worth about sixpence a thousand. In another film
we showed a native barber shaving a baby's head, in accordance with
native custom. The baby was held tight in the mother's arms, during
the operation, which it did not seem to relish at all, for it kicked
and screamed the whole while. After it was over I asked the woman the
reason of the custom. "How else would you keep the lice from feeding on
its little scalp?" she asked in evident surprise. We also photographed
boys engaged in gambling for cowries at a curious kind of native game,
the equivalent, I suppose, to our pitch and toss. Only in Bafilo there
are no policemen to interfere with the urchins or mar their enjoyment.
The kind of dour puritanism that is so prevalent in England--and
in parts of Germany, too, for that matter--would find but little
encouragement among the Togo people. It was at Bafilo, too, that we
filmed a most curious native dance, performed entirely by women and the
principal feature of which consisted in violently bumping one another
with that portion of their anatomy on which boys are birched at school.
It was a most strange and mirth-provoking spectacle, but the women
take this particular dance very seriously, and will continue at it for
many hours at a stretch, encouraged by the loud yells of approval from
the spectators that invariably follow an extra hard bump, and by the
terrific tom-tomming of the native band. In yet another film, vultures
are seen acting as scavengers; while hard by warriors are engaged in
mimic sword-play. The manufacture of leather mats, an industry peculiar
to the place, was also filmed--together with basket-making from the
stalks of the palm leaf, which we photographed from start to finish.
The finished articles are sold for a sum approximating in value to one
farthing apiece.
There are many wild animals in the bush round Bafilo, but the hyenas
are the most trying. At Paratau we had heard these noisy brutes at a
distance, but here they came quite close up. Night after night, one's
rest was broken and disturbed by them. I used to get up and throw
empty bottles and things out of the window to drive them away, much as
one scares off the nocturnal domestic cat at home; but, though they
would slink off for a while, they always came back again. Some nights
were worse than others. I remember, on one occasion, there seemed to
be a regular pack of them prowling round the huts, and their fierce
howls sounded quite terrifying. Next morning, Hodgson, who slept in
a detached hut some distance away from those occupied by the other
members of our party, turned up at breakfast looking unusually pale
and hollow-eyed and, on inquiring, we found that he had been sitting
up all night with his revolver fearing an attack. Presently Nebel
put in an appearance--it was just before he left for Europe that the
affair happened--and remarked casually to Hodgson that he had been
unable to sleep for the noise, and had at one time been on the point of
coming round to his (Hodgson's) hut for a chat. "Good job for you, you
didn't," replied Hodgson, wearily. "I should most likely have shot you.
My nerves were in such a state that I am quite sure I should have let
drive at any living thing [only he didn't say _living_] that had come
to the door of my hut in the dark."
There were also numbers of scorpions about the place, and snakes,
although for a long time I did not see any of the latter. In fact, one
evening when we were sitting outside our hut on some stones, chatting
and enjoying the cool night air, I remarked generally to the men-folk
that I did not believe one half of the many snake yarns they were
in the habit of telling one another from time to time. "Here I have
been at this place for a whole week, and nary a snake," I remarked.
"I don't believe that there are any." Hardly were the words out of my
mouth, when one of the boys standing near darted forward to where I
was seated, and started lashing furiously with a stick at something on
the ground at my feet. It proved to be a puff-adder, one of the most
poisonous reptiles to be found in the whole of Africa, and its deadly
fangs were actually within a foot or so of my lightly covered ankles at
the very moment when I was deriding the existence in Bafilo of him or
any of his species.
Curiously enough, too, a somewhat similar incident occurred here in
connection with a leopard; and this also took place in the evening. The
men had been talking about these animals, and of how plentiful they
were, until their stories rather got on my nerves. "Oh, bother your
leopards," I cried. "I don't believe there is one within a hundred
miles." I spoke in jest of course, and looked towards Schomburgk
expecting him to laugh. Instead, he held up a warning hand, as if to
enjoin silence, while with the other he pointed to what looked to me
like a black shadow slinking slowly past where we were sitting, and
not more than five or six yards distant. "A leopard!" he whispered.
Hodgson and I both laughed, thinking he was joking, and that what we
had seen was probably nothing more dangerous or uncommon than a native
dog. We were sitting outside our hut as usual, and without a light, for
the night, though dark, was fine and warm. But Schomburgk was quite
sure, and he called up the native boys, who lit lamps, and there, sure
enough, clearly discernible even to my inexperienced eyes, in the
soft sand, was the spoor of a big, full-grown leopard. He must have
come our way from the village, climbed up on to the plateau, spotted
us, and slunk off between the huts, and so escaped. When we came back
from examining the spoor, Hodgson said to me, remembering our former
experience with the snake: "Well, you're a prophetess the wrong way
about; only say you don't believe in elephants, and I'll go and load my
gun."
From the 10th to the 13th of December, I suffered from a relapse of
fever, and had to lay up, but during the rest of the time, as I have
said before, we were kept pretty busy. There were seven horses to
look after, and I usually superintended their early morning toilet
myself, taking my coffee by the stables at six o'clock. Every afternoon
we went riding, and the mornings were devoted to acting, or filming
ethnological subjects. One thing, there was no lack of supers for our
dramatic scenes at Bafilo. Once, when we asked for fifty negroes, fully
a thousand turned up. Naturally they all wanted to be taken on, and the
noise and clamour they made was simply deafening.
One day a "woman palaver" caused considerable trouble. The word
"palaver," I may explain, stands for anything and everything in
West Africa. Originally it meant a talk, a formal conference or
conversation. Nowadays any happening in the least out of the common is
referred to as a palaver. If, for example, you go to buy a horse--that
is a "horse palaver." Does the cook spoil or steal your rations? There
follows a "cook palaver." And so on. Most frequent of all, however, are
the woman palavers, for my fair but frail sex was, I found, the cause
of fully as much trouble in Togo as it is generally credited with being
elsewhere. _Cherchez la femme._
This particular case began in this way. During the afternoon, while
the men were away shooting, a native came from the village to
complain that one of our soldiers--we had two as escort provided by
the Government--had decoyed away his daughter, a girl of fourteen or
fifteen. She had, he said, been sent to the market that morning to
buy provisions, and the "soldier" had met her, and induced her to go
away with him. I called the soldiers before me, and questioned them
jointly and severally, but they both denied most strenuously having
had anything to say to any girl, one of them adding, with a great show
of virtuous indignation, that he had a wife of his own in Sokode. This
latter assertion, however, though doubtless correct, did not greatly
impress me, because I had only the evening before come across him
canoodling one of the native women on the outskirts of the camp.
While I was trying to get at the bottom of the matter, Schomburgk
returned and, on my explaining to him what it was all about, he called
Alfred, our chief interpreter, and ordered him to translate the man's
story carefully, and word for word. This, however, Alfred seemed
either unwilling or unable to do, so we called in the aid of Mseu,
another interpreter, who understood the Bafilo dialect better than
Alfred did. Mseu heard what the man had to say, and translated it
sentence by sentence, adding voluntarily, after he had finished, that,
in his opinion, the man was a liar. I began to think so myself, for it
suddenly occurred to me that the two soldiers had been about the camp
practically all the morning, and could not, therefore, have been down
in Bafilo, philandering with native girls.
The man, however, insisted that what he said was correct, and that
his daughter was even now concealed in our camp, so we told him to go
with Mseu and see if he could find her. This he appeared unwilling to
do, and Mseu also, but Schomburgk insisted, and eventually they went
off together, to return presently with the girl. This, of course, was
a serious matter, as these sort of "women palavers" may easily lead
to grave bother with the natives. So we held a sort of informal Court
of Inquiry, and went thoroughly into the matter. In the end we found
that it was Mseu himself who had taken the girl away. Schomburgk fined
the delinquent ten shillings--a big sum to him--to be handed over as
compensation to the girl's father, and gave him the option of taking
a letter to the Government Commissioner at Sokode, or of suffering
personal chastisement at his hands there and then. He promptly chose
the latter alternative, and Schomburgk gave it to him soundly. He
yelled like a hyena, and screamed for mercy, to the huge delight of our
boys, for Mseu was always greatly interested and pleased when anybody
else got a hiding. Afterwards I took the girl aside, and gave her a
good talking to, but I am sorry to say it seemed to make very little
impression on her. To all my questions as to how she came to act in
such a wicked manner--for it transpired that she had gone away with
Mseu quite willingly--she would only reply in snappy monosyllables,
or by that forward and upward thrust of the chin which is everywhere
associated with sulky indifference. Once only did she show any sign of
interest or animation, and that was when I asked her if she had gone
with the man because she loved him. "Love him!" she cried indignantly.
"Indeed no. He is old and ugly. But--he gave me this." And she pointed
to a string of common white beads, value perhaps three-halfpence, which
she was wearing round her throat. Poor child! To her they were a rope
of rarest pearls, and for ropes of pearls, I reflected, European women,
dainty and well-educated and well-bred, have ere now been not unwilling
to barter their honour.
[Illustration: A HAUSA WOMAN
Note the curious helmet-like way of dressing her hair. This is only one
of many similar eccentric methods in vogue amongst these people.]
[Illustration: TSCHAUDJO GIRL FROM BAFILO
The Tschaudjo women are amongst the most modest and well-behaved of the
Togo peoples. This young lady took a lot of persuasion before she would
consent to pose for her photograph in public, but having done so she
put on her pleasantest and most engaging smile.]
It was at Bafilo that there also occurred another palaver, in which I
was more directly concerned. I was out riding one day, when a native
lad of about sixteen or seventeen started dancing and shouting in the
path in front of my horse. The more I expostulated with him, the worse
he went on, and I was afraid that he would frighten the horse, and
perhaps cause it to bolt. Luckily, Schomburgk rode up at the crucial
moment, and secured the offender, who proved to be drunk. We handed
him over to his chief, who was furious, and promptly ordered him
to be flogged. I waited till he was triced up, then interceded for
him, but I had the greatest difficulty in inducing the chief to forego
the punishment. I do not know whether the culprit was grateful to me
or no--gratitude being, to put it mildly, not a strong point in the
character of the African native--but he at all events ought to have
been, for a chief's flogging is no joke.
An endless source of interest to me during our stay in Bafilo were
the long strings of natives belonging to different tribes, Losso,
Lamantiné, etc., from the Kabre Mountains--semi-wild people, who were
travelling back to their far-off homes after going down to do their
tax-work at Sokode, or to labour for wages on the railway at Atakpame
and beyond. All these people were accompanied by their women to cook
their food, and both sexes were absolutely nude; not even a loin-cloth
amongst hundreds of them. Yet, somehow, after the first impression
wore off, one saw nothing to cavil at in it. Their black skins seemed
quite to do away with the impression of nudity, and their extremely
graceful movements, and modest carriage, made their nakedness seem
not only natural, but admirable. The women were especially modest in
their demeanour, and the younger girls were even painfully shy. If one
spoke to them in passing, one might get a swift shy smile in return,
accompanied by a sudden uplifting of the head for a fraction of a
second. But if one approached one of them in order to try to converse,
they seemed to be absolutely paralysed with fright. Like a startled
fawn, they would stand stock-still, and trembling all over, until one
was within a yard or so of them, then fly away like an arrow from a
bow. Numbers of them carried on their heads big bags filled with salt,
the ordinary currency of the Kabre country, and representing probably
the wages of the bread-winner for many months. On one occasion a young
girl thus loaded stumbled and fell right opposite my hut, the bag
burst, and some of the precious salt was spilled and wasted. I felt
sorry for her, and went in and got some of our own salt to give to her.
But directly I approached her with it, she fled like the wind, after
giving one startled scream. However, I went after her, and by the aid
of the interpreter I eventually succeeded in calming her fears, and
inducing her to accept my salt.
Another thing that amused me greatly, although I was chaffed about
it considerably by Schomburgk and the others! The son of the richest
native in Bafilo took it into his head to fall violently in love with
me. There was nothing offensive about his attentions. It was merely
a dumb, dog-like sort of devotion. He would sit for hours silently
watching me, would run to anticipate my wants, and was constantly
bringing me presents, and expecting nothing in return, a thing
absolutely foreign to native methods. Poor chap! I have a pretty little
table-cover of native workmanship spread upon the table at which I
write these words--his parting gift! I can see him now, the tears
streaming down his squat ebony face, as I turned in my saddle to wave
him a last farewell--a ludicrous sight, and yet somehow pathetic.
By the way, some of the native cloth-work at Bafilo is exceedingly
beautiful. I bought a number of specimens of it, among the best being
a handsome toga-like garment of hand-woven blue stuff, elaborately
embroidered, and which I am now wearing as an opera cloak in London,
where it has been greatly admired. It is woven in narrow strips about
two inches wide, and these are then sewn together by stitches so small,
even, and regular, that they are practically invisible. It cost me £3,
10s., a big sum out there, and to a native, but then it must be borne
in mind that one of these cloaks takes about a year to make.