NAMBIRI TO TSCHOPOWA
The chief of Nambiri turned out to be a charming little old man; one
of Nature's gentlemen. He wore a long grey beard, and not much else
beside, but his manners were courtly and kindly, and he bore himself
with a certain savage stateliness, tempered by a deference that had
in it no trace of cringing or servility. Since parting with the old
Uro of Bafilo, I have met no African potentate who has impressed me so
favourably. Unlike so many village chiefs, he was not unduly intrusive.
He waited until we had had a bath and a sleep, then came with his
"presents." They were more than abundant, including, besides the usual
chickens, eggs, &c., a young calf. Schomburgk at first refused to
accept this, knowing that the return "present" expected would be of
considerable value; but the old man begged so hard, saying that the
first white woman to honour his town with a visit must be properly
feasted, that at last he consented. We gave him in return a piece of
silk cloth, and a number of brass and copper rods, with which he seemed
to be highly delighted, and all the rest of the day he kept pottering
round, trying in every way that lay in his power to make things
comfortable for us.
That night the soldiers killed the calf, and I distributed the meat to
our boys, keeping the best portions for ourselves. These I ordered to
be roasted at once, a precaution only too necessary with meat in this
climate, as otherwise it will go bad in a surprisingly short time. The
boys are greatly delighted when this happens, because the native has
no qualms whatever about eating tainted meat. They always pretend to
be very sorry when they come up to me with the news, "Missy, um meat
gone smell--um quite bad"; but it is easy to see by the irrepressible
glitter in their eyes that they are secretly delighted. Consequently,
they were rather crestfallen when I ordered that our share of the meal
should all be roasted there and then. They considered that a good meat
meal had, from their point of view, been practically stolen from them.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_ _Miss M. Gehrts_
YOUNG KONKOMBWA WARRIOR
Note the helmet-like shape of the hairdressing; the dependent horsehair
switch, a highly-prized ornament; the iron bell-rattle carried in the
hand; the bow, and sheaf of arrows all poisoned. The bead necklace
supports a whistle by means of which the natives can signal messages
from village to village, and even call one another by name, using a
sort of Morse telegraphic code invented by themselves.]
The Konkombwa villages round about here are the prettiest and neatest
I have seen in Togo. They are quite small, consisting mostly of from
five to ten huts, and each little community seems to be more or less
self-contained. The social system under which they live, in fact, may
be best described as a blend of the communal and the patriarchal. It is
very astonishing that these splendid savages, so warlike by training
and instinct, and of so fine and stalwart an appearance, should have
been, for as far back as their history or traditions extend, under the
domination of the neighbouring Dagomba tribe. The only explanation I
can think of is that the Dagomba have guns, and probably became
possessed of them, moreover, and learnt their use, at a very early
date, whereas the Konkombwa are still in the bow-and-arrow stage of
martial evolution. The Konkombwa women are by no means ill-looking; but
they are short and squat, and their good appearance is considerably
detracted from owing to their custom of cropping their hair quite
close, the cuttings being used, I was told, by the young warriors to
make up their own elaborate head-dresses. I wonder what a European
girl would say, if she were required to sacrifice her tresses for the
benefit of her brothers, her sweetheart, or her husband. I rather
think she would indignantly refuse; but these dusky belles take it
quite as a matter of course. It is the custom of the country, and
here, as elsewhere, it appears to be a more or less settled conviction
that whatever is, is right. As regards their behaviour, the Konkombwa
women compare very favourably with any in Togoland. Not only are their
manners modest and gentle, but they have a reputation for chastity--a
rare virtue amongst African natives--which inquiry led me to believe is
not undeserved. They all--barring the very young unmarried girls--wear
a loin cloth, mostly of some white material, and which they take a
pride in keeping exquisitely clean, and this, and the custom they
have of wearing pretty little white "pearl" anklets, and similar, but
broader, belts of "pearls" round their wrists, necks, and waists, gives
them quite a picturesque and pleasing appearance.
My first favourable impression of these charming people, however,
was destined to receive rather a set-back during the course of the
evening, although the incident that gave rise to it was an isolated
one, and probably of quite infrequent occurrence; and in any case, of
course, one has no right to generalise from a particular instance--a
fault which, by the way, is far too common. We were sitting outside
our hut in the cool of the evening, chatting together of home and
future prospects; Hodgson, who plays the mandoline rather nicely, was
strumming some old-time melody; the moon was shining as it only can
shine in the tropics; and all nature seemed at peace; when there rose
from the village near by a most terrific din. Women were screaming,
men shouting, and children crying. Naturally we all jumped up, and ran
over to see what was the matter. It proved to be a domestic row, and a
pretty serious one at that. A huge native, apparently mad drunk, was
beating his wife with a big, heavy stick, almost a club in fact, while
a score or more of others stood round yelling to him to desist, but
not caring apparently to take any active steps to compel him to do so.
When we arrived upon the scene, the poor woman was lying huddled up on
the ground, covered with blood, feebly moaning, and evidently too weak
to even attempt to ward off the blows which her better half was still
raining down upon her defenceless head. Schomburgk promptly bowled the
brute over with a left-hander straight in the face. Then, having got
possession of his big stick, he gave him a taste--several tastes, in
fact--of his own medicine until he howled for mercy. Meanwhile I had
run back to our camp for lint and bandages, and proceeded to bind up
the injured woman's hurts. I never in all my life saw such a sight
as the poor woman presented. He had beaten her almost to a jelly, so
that her features were well-nigh indistinguishable, and on the scalp
were six or seven deep wounds, extending to the bone. Her body was
simply drenched--I can use no other term--in blood. To my inexperienced
eyes it seemed well-nigh impossible that she could ever recover; yet
such are the recuperative powers possessed by these people, that
when I inquired about her not long afterwards I was informed that
she was going about her household duties as usual, her head swathed
in bandages, and her face all puffed up and swollen, but otherwise
seemingly little the worse for the terrible punishment she had
undergone. I tried to get her to tell me, before quitting Nambiri, what
was the origin of the affair, but beyond saying that it was "all her
own fault," I could get no explanation from her. The other women were
not so reticent, however, and from what they let drop I gathered that
her husband had caught her philandering with a young buck belonging to
a neighbouring village. So there you are! Conjugal chastity, or the
insistence upon it, has as its necessary corollary conjugal jealousy,
in Konkombwaland as elsewhere.
Next day the dancers turned up. There were about two hundred of them,
picked young warriors from every village within a big radius round
about Nambiri; and very smart they looked, with their ebony skins
set off by rows on rows of brass and copper anklets and wristlets,
their quivers of poisoned arrows; and their cowrie-shell helmets,
with long strings of similar shells dangling before and behind, and
surmounted either by the small graceful puku horns, or occasionally by
the yard-long horns of the roan antelope, worn in pairs. I had never
beheld, or even conceived of, a more magnificent yet barbaric sight.
Nearly every warrior carried a curious bell-like rattle, made of native
iron, with which they kept up a continuous ding-dong "duotonous"
tintinnabulation, each note separated by an octave, and continually
repeated over and over again.
We took great pains over this film, for these Konkombwa people are
exceedingly interesting from an ethnological point of view; they
have hardly ever before been visited by private travellers, and most
certainly have never before been photographed by a cinema camera. In
the pictures we took, the tribesmen, fully arrayed in all their finery,
are first seen in the act of parading for one of their big ceremonial
dances. Then comes the salute, followed by the actual dance itself.
The young braves rush into the circle, and perform various evolutions,
the whole being instinct with life and movement. The only hitch in
our arrangements, but that a sufficiently annoying one, was due to
the Konkombwa women, who insisted on dancing in between with their
children, thereby, of course, spoiling the film, and necessitating
its being done all over again. After the dances were over, a number
of warriors were photographed separately, and close up to the camera;
and in order to get good studies of facial expression, we told them to
talk into the machine, saying that it would take down whatever message
they gave it, and that it would afterwards be heard in Europe. The
result of this little manoeuvre fully came up to our expectations, each
warrior as he advanced close up to the camera delivering his message to
it with much energy and many gesticulations. Afterwards, I asked our
interpreter what it was they had been saying. His reply was that most
of the messages were of such a character that they would not bear being
repeated!
After it was all over we distributed tobacco and kola nuts amongst the
dancers, both of which were much appreciated, especially the nuts,
which are esteemed a great delicacy by the natives, and are highly
valued besides on account of their stimulating effects, and the curious
property they possess of enabling a person to go without food or other
refreshment for a considerable interval. These kola nuts are brought
into the interior from the coast belt by the Hausa traders. They have
to be carried very carefully, and must also be kept constantly damp.
Their value is from a halfpenny apiece upwards, being dearer the
farther north one goes. Two or three kola nuts are usually--provided
he can afford them--carried by a native when he goes out hunting, or is
called upon to perform any other feat of physical endurance, and one
nut will enable him easily to do without food or water for at least
a day. Some of the older natives, who are also well to do, and the
chiefs and mallams are very partial to the nuts, chewing them all day
long, much as the American girls chew gum. The result is a staining
of the inside of the mouth, lips, and teeth, a dirty reddish-brown,
very repulsive to look upon. I once tasted a kola nut, but found it
exceedingly bitter and unpalatable.
Very early on the morning after the dance we struck camp, and started
on our next stage to a place called Tschopowa. We only wanted fifty
carriers, but over two hundred turned up. Schomburgk naturally
objected, but the old chief explained that we need only pay on the
basis of the number of loads carried; the extra carriers were going on
their own initiative, and for the fun of the thing. They regarded it,
in fact, in the light of a pleasure excursion, and as they all helped
with the loads, which were constantly being changed voluntarily from
one to the other, we got over the ground in fine style, and at a great
rate. At almost every village we passed going along, too, other natives
joined in, singing, shouting, and capering, so that our caravan assumed
in the end a most imposing, yet barbaric appearance. As I felt somewhat
indisposed, I travelled all the way by hammock, and my boys swung me
along in great spirits at a five-mile-an-hour gait.
The curiosity aroused by my advent in the villages along this usually
little frequented route was very great; more so, in fact, than anywhere
else in Togo. Everywhere crowds of natives lined the roads to see me
pass, the women "ul-ul-ulling" a wild welcome, the men capering and
singing. While at the more important places, regular demonstrations
of welcome were organised, as though for royalty itself. Thus, at
Tschopowa, at a distance of fully three miles from the village, there
awaited us a great crowd of natives, all dressed in their best.
Schomburgk happened to be riding some little distance ahead at the
time, and when he appeared they seemed quite disappointed, and inquired
as to the whereabouts of the "White Queen" of whom they had heard so
much. He pointed over his shoulder as he cantered past, intimating that
"Her Majesty" would be along presently, and the reception I got when I
did ride up to where they were awaiting me was almost overpowering. At
most of the other larger villages it was much the same. The road used
to be lined three and four deep by hundreds on hundreds of Konkombwa
men, women, and children, all in gala attire, and I had to tell my
boys to throw up the curtains of the hammock, so that I could sit up
and smile my acknowledgments right and left, just as royalty does when
it appears on a festive occasion in the streets of, say, London or
Berlin. It quite made me blush for myself--and I am not ordinarily
over-shy--remembering how insignificant a personage I really was. Our
operator, however, was troubled by no such scruples; but getting his
camera in position, he usually managed to secure any number of good
pictures of the curious, unusual scenes. At Tschopowa the whole affair
culminated in a big dance, given in my honour.
It was at this dance that I made an interesting, and profitable
discovery. Surmounting the headdress of one of the male dancers,
I noticed a bunch of black, draggled looking objects, that closer
inspection showed me to be feathers. They were, however, altogether
different from any other feathers I had seen the natives wearing
elsewhere, and a sudden, quick, glad suspicion flashed into my mind.
I darted up to the native, and greatly to his surprise snatched the
plume from his headdress. One glance sufficed. "Marabou!" I shouted
to Schomburgk. "Marabou feathers at last!" Would the native sell? Of
course he would, and glad to. A brass rod changed hands. So, too, did
the feathers.
To heat some water was the work of a few minutes. Then I rinsed the
bedraggled objects in soapsuds, dried them by waving them to and fro,
and a little later they emerged the most beautiful objects conceivable,
soft fleecy things of snowy whiteness and exquisite purity. Yes, there
could be no doubt about it; they were marabou feathers, of perfect
texture, and large size. I wear them in my hat now occasionally in
London and elsewhere, to the envy and admiration of my women friends;
those, at least, who are not members of the Wild Birds' Protection
Association.
The feathers had been left hanging up in the smoky atmosphere of the
native's hut, which accounted for their black and draggled appearance.
But they had suffered no permanent deterioration, and after I had
washed them, they were, as I have already intimated, as good as ever.
That afternoon, without saying anything to Schomburgk, who had gone out
shooting, I sent for the native from whom I had bought my treasures,
and told him to let it be known in the village that I would give a
brass rod for every similar feather brought in. Soon the camp was alive
with Konkombwa bringing marabou plumes for sale. As fast as I secured
them, I rinsed them out in a big bath of soapsuds, and set the boys to
work drying them. When Schomburgk returned presently he was amazed to
see rows on rows of ebon-black natives engaged in gravely waving to and
fro a small forest of snow-white feathers. Even his personal boy had
been impressed for service, and he was inclined to grumble a little
thereat in consequence. But he quickly relented, when he realised the
nature of the bargain I had made. We had, at the time, a considerable
store of the rods left, which we wanted to get rid of. They were worth
to us about sixpence apiece, while marabou feathers are scarcely to be
had for money in Europe.
The rest-house at Tschopowa is of the old square Sudan pattern, like
an East African "tembe." It is beautifully situated on a little rise,
whence a fine view is obtainable for miles all around. This is in the
dry season, after the crops have been harvested. In the rainy season,
however, when the guinea corn stands some 15 or 20 feet high, and the
country is mostly under water, it cannot be at all a desirable place
to stay at. Near the rest-house was one of the biggest and finest
baobab trees I saw in Togo. The trunk was, I suppose, fully 60 feet
in circumference, and it was certainly many hundreds, and probably
some thousands, of years old. The wood of the baobab tree is of no use
commercially, being so spongy that a ·303 bullet will go clean through
even the biggest of them; but the bark, which is fibrous, is sometimes
stripped off by the natives, and used for making ropes, and a coarse
kind of cloth. The leaves are dried, and made into a powder called
"lalo," which is used by West Africans as a condiment. Only the female
baobab tree bears the fruit, which is the size of a small football.
Inside are a lot of kernels, enclosed in an acid pulp. This is said to
be a fine cure for blackwater fever, and it makes a most refreshing
drink, prepared with sugar, like lemonade.
[Illustration:
_By permission of_ _Maj. H. Schomburgk, F.R.G.S._
A HUGE COMMUNAL CORN-BIN
Bins built after this fashion are peculiar to the Konkombwa people.
The one shown in the illustration was photographed at a place called
Tschopowa. It has a movable top, is as big as a good-sized hut, and
when full will hold several tons of corn.]
Here we had a bow-and-arrow competition, the natives shooting at marks
for prizes, which caused a lot of interest and excitement. One warrior
greatly amused us by putting in an appearance in a sort of George
Robey hat, stuck full of feathers. No doubt he considered it the very
latest thing in head-dresses. We stayed at Tschopowa two days, while
Schomburgk and Hodgson went out to the Oti and filmed some pictures of
hippopotami. We also secured pictures of some enormous corn-bins of
curious construction. They are round, as big as a good-sized house, and
stand on three legs, with a covered-in top. When full some of them will
hold several tons of corn. These bins, built after this fashion, are
peculiar to the Konkombwa people.
In the evening we discovered that the baobab tree mentioned above
was full of bats; thousands on thousands of them. Our horse boys
from Sokode killed some scores of them with sticks, spitted them on
small skewers, and roasted them, esteeming them apparently as a great
delicacy. They brought me some on a stick, and laughed when I turned
away shuddering. I am a great favourite, by the way, with our boys.
When they transgress in any way, and Schomburgk, sitting in judgment,
condemns them to be fined or otherwise punished, they always come and
ask me to intercede with him for them. This I invariably do--unless it
is a very flagrant case--and Schomburgk, glad of an excuse to let them
off, will then remit the punishment, saying carelessly: "Oh, all right
if Puss says so"; or, "Now mind and don't let it happen again, and
remember you've got Puss to thank for this."
It was here that I saw one of the most beautiful white cocks I ever set
eyes on, riding on a donkey-load of stuff belonging to a Hausa trader.
I had seen similar cocks before in Mangu, and elsewhere, but never so
fine a one as this. These birds are carried all over Togoland by these
peripatetic pedlars, in order that they may arouse their owners in good
time in the morning by their crowing. They are, in fact, living alarum
clocks, a lusty, loud crower being greatly valued.