KAMINA--LOME--HOME
We were expected in Kamina by our old friend Baron Codelli von
Fahnenfeld, and by the baroness, his wife, a young woman of about my
own age, whom he had recently brought out from Europe, a new-wed bride,
to share his home and fortunes in this out-of-the-way corner of the
German colonial empire.
All the week long I had been looking forward to this meeting with
the wife of one of my best friends, and picturing it in the rosiest
colours. We should have so much to say to each other, I said to myself,
for I had been so long cut off from all association with my own
sex--the meeting with Mrs. Dehn at Sokode being only a casual one--that
I was simply dying for a good long chat about--well, about the things
women love to talk of. Yet now, when the hour had come for our mutual
introduction, I felt a strange kind of bashfulness creep over me. I had
been so long in the bush, practically cut off from civilised society.
True, I had met a few men. But then men friends and acquaintances
are so different from women friends and acquaintances. They are less
critical; more apt to take one at one's own valuation.
Shall I like her? What is she like? Shall we get on together? The
questions one woman always asks herself of another woman whom she hopes
to favourably impress, surged uppermost. But my doubts and fears were
quickly dispelled. A tall, graceful girl, golden-haired and blue-eyed,
advanced towards me with hands outstretched in warm welcome. Soon we
were deep in an earnest, animated conversation; she asking all sorts
of questions about the "back of the beyond" of the country that was
now her home; I anxious to hear the latest "gup" of Berlin, of Paris,
of Vienna. But there was one piece of information that I wanted to
acquire, now and at once, that to me was all-important, and at the risk
of being thought ill-mannered, I blurted out the personal query: "My
boxes? My treasured boxes? What had become of them?"
It will be remembered that a wire had been forwarded to us by
post-runner from Mangu, telling us of their destruction by a fire
that had burned down Baron von Codelli's house at Kamina while he
was away in Europe. Since then we had received several more or less
contradictory reports from his employés. Some personal luggage had been
rescued from the flames, we were told at one time; at another, the
rumour reached us that everything that was on the premises when the
fire broke out had gone up in smoke. Now, to my unbounded relief and
delight, I learnt that all the boxes containing my personal belongings
were safe; only a few parcels containing hats, lingerie, and
comparatively valueless articles of personal apparel, had been burned.
I owed their safety, it transpired, to the efforts of my black boy,
Kabrischika, who had been with me during our stay at Kamina on the
upward journey, and who had become very much attached to me. It
appeared that a big grass fire was burning near Kamina, and that a
sudden change in the strength and direction of the wind had sent it,
roaring and raging, straight for Codelli's house, which was of wood,
thatched with many thicknesses of straw for coolness. The house was
unoccupied, of course, and, it being the end of the dry season, about
as inflammable as a box of matches. Kabrischika, quick to realise the
danger, had dashed through the flames and smoke and lugged my boxes out
of danger. He knew them, it seemed, because they were new; my name,
which was stamped in big letters upon each one of them, meaning nothing
to him.
We spent ten days in Kamina, recuperating, and filming the big wireless
station which Codelli is building there, and about which I wrote in
an earlier chapter. I was amazed at the progress which had been made
during our six months' absence. Kamina itself had changed utterly; had
grown tremendously. Everywhere were substantial stone houses; mostly
finished and ready for occupation, some few in course of erection.
The great steel towers, and the immense power-station, were finished,
contrasting curiously with the little wattle and straw huts that
had lodged the hundreds of workmen, whose labours were now nearing
completion. When the dynamos and turbines are installed, which they
will be by the time this book is in print, Kamina will be able to talk
direct with Berlin, 3450 miles distant. Even during my stay there,
although messages could not yet be transmitted, they could be received,
and each morning on our breakfast-table there lay a little type-written
broadsheet, our morning paper as it were, summarising for us the news
that had come through to the station overnight. In this way we knew
what was happening in Europe, almost as quickly as if we had been
living in, say, London, or Paris, or Berlin.
I need hardly say, however, that it is not for such comparatively
trivial purposes as these that this powerful installation has been
erected in the heart of the wilderness. The wireless station at Kamina
is intended to be the chief receiving and distributing centre for the
whole of Africa; so far, that is to say, as Germany is concerned. It
will communicate with the similar but smaller wireless station in the
Cameroons, and also with that at Windhuk in German South-West Africa,
as well as with Tabora in German East Africa. Furthermore, it will
in course of time constitute one of the principal links in the chain
of wireless stations with which Germany, like Britain, is seeking to
girdle the globe; connecting her East and West African possessions with
German New Guinea, with Samoa, and with the German protectorate of
Kiao-Chau, in the Chinese province of Shantung, which she holds from
China on a ninety-nine years' lease since January 1898.
A little railway connects Codelli's house with the northern part of
Kamina, where the receiving station is, and we used frequently to
remark, after dinner: "Now let us go up and listen to what they have
got to say in Berlin." It was, to me at all events, very weird and
wonderful to be able to place the receiver to my ears, and listen to
sounds having their origin at a point between three or four thousand
miles away. No words, of course, were audible, only the short and
long sounds of the Morse code; but I soon learnt enough to be able to
understand the purport, at all events, of what was coming through. The
signals sound very much like musical notes--a series of notes all of
the same tone and pitch--played on an ordinary whistle. This particular
brand of wireless is called in German the _telefunken_, meaning
"sounding spark"; and this exactly describes it. Sounding sparks! That
is what you are listening to.
The temporary receiving station, by the way, is the same building that
served me for a house during our stay in Kamina on the upward journey,
six months previously. It gave me quite a shock on my first visit to
it this time, to find the little home I had decorated and fitted up so
comfortably--we rigged up our studio here, you will remember--now all
bare and desolate, and filled with complicated wireless instruments.
Presently, I got another kind of shock, an unpleasant one. I remarked
to Codelli how dusty everything was, and he replied quite gravely
that that was so, it wanted a woman's deft hand; and, handing me a
cloth, he asked me if I would be so good as to wipe things over a
bit with it, while he adjusted the instruments. At the same time he
pointed to two little metal points, saying that it was important
that every speck of dust should be removed from these if the working
was to be satisfactory. In my innocence I did my best to carry out
his instructions, with the result that I suffered a mild sort of
electrocution. It was merely a practical joke of Codelli's, and not
enough electricity passed through me to hurt me, but it gave me a rare
start nevertheless.
I was, as I have already said, greatly interested in this wonderful
wireless installation; but I fear that I was also fully as much
interested--trivial though the confession must sound--in a new
nickel-plated collapsible dressing-table that the Baroness Codelli had
brought with her from Berlin. It was the first time for six months that
I had been able to see myself full length in a large mirror, and only
a woman can realise what this means to a woman. When I was first left
alone with it, I scrutinised myself closely and anxiously, turning
this way and that, peering close and drawing back. On the whole the
inspection was eminently satisfactory. My figure was fuller, rounder,
and harder, my face also had filled out; otherwise, I was surprised to
find how slight a difference half a year's roughing it in the wilds
had made in my personal appearance. Why, I have frequently been more
sunburnt after a week at the seaside, than I was by this long trek
through tropical Togoland. One reason for this was the care one always
takes to shade one's face from the sun's rays while on the march; not,
however, in order to preserve one's complexion, but with a view to
avoiding sunstroke. During the first part of my journey, I always wore,
when in the saddle, or out-of-doors even temporarily, a big slouch
hat of the cowboy type, but afterwards I discarded this for the pith
helmet, than which no more effectual safeguard against heat apoplexy
has yet been devised.
While their new stone house was in course of erection, the Baron and
Baroness Codelli had taken possession temporarily of the "Stranger's
House," a building set apart for the use of stray visitors to the
place who may be in want of accommodation, corresponding, in point of
fact, to the rest-houses of the up-country stations, but somewhat more
solidly constructed, and having a cement floor. There were, however,
two rooms completed in their new stone house, and these Codelli very
kindly placed at our disposal. But I, with the lately awakened instinct
of the bush woman, preferred to camp out in a small grass-and-wattle
hut, with only a mat curtain between myself and the outer air.
This was all very well for a couple of days. But the rainy season was
now near at hand, and on the third day one of those tornadoes, which
always precede the great rains, came on to blow. The wind set in motion
great clouds of dust, which filled my frail dwelling, and after a
short, sharp struggle between pride and inclination, the latter won,
and I took refuge behind stone walls. A day or two later great black
clouds came rolling up, threatening to break in one of those terrific
tropical thunderstorms of which I had heard such lurid accounts. Still,
however, the rain held off; indeed, I was assured, that Kamina had been
exceptionally fortunate in respect to its freedom from these storms
since the wireless station had been erected, the theory being that
the nine great steel towers in some way repelled the electric fluid.
Whether this theory has any scientific foundation in fact, I am, of
course, unable to say, but everybody seemed agreed that though all
round the station might be black, the sky overhead of Kamina was for
the most part clear.
At length the time came to say good-bye. Our heavy baggage had arrived
from Sokode, and all was ready to entrain. Our horses, none the worse
for their journey through the fly belt, had already been sent by rail
to Lome, there to await shipment to Accra. The two ostriches had been
sent on by road, in charge of their boys. There remained only our pet
monkey, Anton, and him I presented to the Baroness Codelli. This time
we took care to lay in a proper stock of provisions for the train
journey, so that it was at least endurable, if not enjoyable; and the
rain coming down just when it was beginning to get uncomfortably hot,
still further helped to mitigate the discomfort of what is at best a
somewhat tedious and trying trip.
At Lome we were to film the opening scene of our drama, _The White
Goddess of the Wangora_. We had already filmed all the other parts, but
the reader will of course understand that in cinema work the scenes are
not photographed consecutively; at least not necessarily so. In this
first scene, it will be remembered, I am supposed to be cast up by the
sea from a wreck as a baby and found by some black savages, and the
problem was whereabouts along the Togo coast were we to get a white
child of the proper age. It was the problem that had been haunting us
at the back of our minds ever since the beginning of the trip. Now it
had got to be solved somehow or other.
Various suggestions were brought forward, and gravely discussed. Could
we use a doll; and if so, could a sufficiently large and lifelike
doll be had in Lome? Would it be possible to paint a black baby white
without injury to the infant? Meanwhile Alfred, our interpreter, had
spread the news of what was wanted throughout Lome, and soon babies
of all sorts and sizes, accompanied of course by their mothers, began
to roll up. None of them, however, suited our requirements. Some were
too big; all were too black: nor were we able to find any mother who
could be induced to regard the whitewashing scheme in a sufficiently
favourable light to lend her own offspring for the experiment. They all
knew somebody else who had a baby they would no doubt be willing to
lend for the purpose, but when it came to the point the "somebody else"
invariably declined most emphatically to do anything of the kind. It
really looked at one time as if we should have to film the scene at
some English seaside resort, with a squad of burnt-cork beach "niggers"
as supers, an obviously most unsatisfactory alternative. Just,
however, as we were beginning to despair, a coast girl turned up with
a half-caste, khaki-coloured infant, of about the right age; and which
Hodgson opined might be made, by the liberal use of a powder puff, to
come out white on the film.
But when the scheme was explained to the mother, I could see that her
enthusiasm for it waned rapidly. The baby was to be hidden in a box
close to the edge of the surf. Yes-s-s! That was all very well. But
suppose one big wave come roll up, sweep baby away? What then? Oh!
No! No! No! And she clasped the little chocolate-coloured coon to her
bosom. There was a lot more palaver, but at length she gave a reluctant
consent. She was to be paid a sovereign for the loan of the infant, and
the clothes we provided, and which cost another ten shillings, were to
be hers to keep when all was over. Moreover, while the scene was being
filmed, she was to stand on one side of the camera, and I on the other,
so that we could both rush into the sea together to the rescue in case
of anything untoward happening. As a matter of fact nothing did happen.
The scene was filmed on the beach outside Lome, a time being chosen
when there was nobody about. We were, however, honoured by the presence
of the Governor, H.H. the Duke of Mecklenburg, who expressed himself
as being both surprised and pleased at the way we had drilled our black
supers to act their parts.
Our time passed very pleasantly in Lome. We had horses lent us by a
friend of ours, Lieutenant Manns, and used to go for rides round the
neighbourhood. The sea, too, was a source of never-ending pleasure
and delight to me, since first I caught a whiff of it towards the end
of our railway journey from Atakpame. We used to take walks along the
beach by moonlight, and Lome, beneath its silvery enchantment, seemed
to me an altogether ideal place of residence. In the daytime, when the
sun beat down upon it, and all was glare and dust, I held quite the
reverse opinion.
Herr Vollbehr, the famous Munich portrait painter, happened to be in
Lome while we were there, and he expressed a wish to paint me in the
native dress I wore whilst playing in the _White Goddess_ drama. So
I gave him some sittings in the gardens of the Duke of Mecklenburg's
palace, and I am told that the picture turned out very well, and
has been much admired at Munich, where it is now on exhibition. The
Governor's palace, by the way, is quite the finest building in Lome,
as indeed is only right. It is four-square, built round a central
courtyard, and must have cost no end of money. It is quite new, like
all the other buildings in Lome, for not so very many years ago--some
seventeen or eighteen, I believe--this town had no existence, at all
events as the capital of Togoland, which was then fixed at a place
called Little Popo, at the eastern extremity of the Togo seaboard.
The great drawback to Lome as a port is the heavy surf which breaks
almost incessantly on the low sandy beach, as indeed it does all
along the West African coast. Different methods of minimising the
inconvenience caused by this hindrance have been adopted at different
places. At Accra they have built a breakwater, which has cost a small
fortune, and is not, I hear, a great success. At Lome they have gone
the other way to work, and have erected a pier, or bridge, right out
into the sea, a third of a mile long, and connected with a massive
wharf, or quay, at the seaward end. This simplifies greatly the problem
of landing, although it has its drawbacks. One is that there are now
no surf boats there, or very few at all events, and the natives, I am
told, are forgetting how to handle them, even if any were available.
So when, some years back, the bridge which connects the wharf with the
shore was destroyed by a tidal wave, supposed to be due to some great
submarine volcanic upheaval, Lome was almost entirely isolated from
the outside world for a while. However, with commendable energy, the
authorities there soon set to work to rebuild their bridge; but because
they could not build it over the old foundations, it now takes a curved
course, which gives it a somewhat curious, lopsided appearance.
For the rest there is not much to say about Lome. It is a clean and
neat little place, like most of our German colonial towns, with
well-laidout streets shaded by palm and other trees, and bordered by
pretty little bungalows, or, in some cases, more substantially built
stone houses, set in well-kept tropical gardens. The native population
of Lome, however, did not impress me favourably. The up-country native
is a gentleman; the coast native is, too often, a caricature of the
street "corner boy" of London or Berlin. Far be it from me, a mere
girl, and a stranger and a sojourner in the colony at that, to set
myself up as a judge in such matters; but it seems to me that the negro
is not fitted for education, in the sense that we in Europe generally
understand that much-abused word. Certain it is that no white man I
ever came across, who knew his Africa, would hire as a "boy" one of the
mission-school type of negro; he would infinitely prefer the wildest
bush native from the remotest part of the hinterland.
At last the morning of the 13th of March dawned, the day on which we
were to say good-bye to Africa. Frankly I felt sorry. I had come here
six months previously, timid, and not a little apprehensive. There had
been times since, up in the lonely bush, when, weary with travel and
weakened with fever, I would have given anything to have gone to sleep
and waked in Europe. But not now. All these feelings were over and
done with, and in their place was a consuming regret for the things I
was leaving behind, that were passing out of my life; the long lone
trail leading onward, and ever onward, through lands new and strange;
the black peoples of the far interior unspoilt by civilisation, an
interesting study always; the stillness of the tropic night, the stir
of the tropic dawn.
We had previously paid off our boys, of course, but all those that were
in Lome at the time came down to the pier head to see us off. They
were sorry to part with us. One could see it in their black faces, for
the negro is nothing but a big child, and his features reflect every
passing mood. "You will come back, little mother," they called out in
unison, as the screw began to revolve. "Yes," I answered gravely, "I
will come back." And I meant what I said. Shall I ever be in a position
to redeem my promise, I wonder? Well! well! Time will show!
One thing rather pleased me. None of our boys were left stranded;
they all got jobs. Alfred, our interpreter, and Asmani, Schomburgk's
personal servant, took service with Baron Codelli at Kamina. Messa,
the cook, got employment in the Duke of Mecklenburg's kitchen. Indeed,
no boy who has been for any length of time with Europeans, and has a
good character, need be long out of employment in Togo. A character,
however, is an essential thing; and curiously enough they all seemed
to prefer my written recommendation to Schomburgk's. I suppose it was
because they had other characters from European men, and wanted to add
to their collection one from a European woman, in case others of my sex
wanted their services later. Schomburgk, however, said that a woman's
recommendation always goes further than a man's, because prospective
employers argue in this way: "Oh! so this boy has served under a woman,
has he? Well, I'll engage him, because a boy who can stick a woman, can
stick anybody--even me." Of course, this was said by way of a joke;
but like a good many words spoken in jest, there is a certain amount
of truth underlying these. Anyway, I believe it to be a fact that West
African personal boys, kitchen boys, and so on, do not care over much
to take service with a woman.
The ship that bore us back to England was named the _Eleonore
Woermamm_. She was a good staunch boat, and very seaworthy and steady,
like all those belonging to this fine line; but as we were steaming
against "the trades," we had a rather rough passage to Las Palmas.
There was a pleasant break here, and I went ashore to the "Stranger's
Club," where I played roulette for the first time. I knew nothing
whatever of the game, and threw down a coin at haphazard, and with
the usual luck of the novice I won again and again. In ten minutes I
was the richer by £7, and was already beginning to have visions of a
golden fortune ahead, when the screeching of the ship's siren called me
hurriedly aboard.
The rest of the voyage was uneventful up to the last day. Then, when we
were nearing Southampton, we had the very narrowest escape--so I was
assured--of going to the bottom. We were seated at dinner, all in the
highest spirits at the successful termination of our trip, when the
steamer suddenly sounded three sharp, angry blasts, then started to
heel over to starboard, sending all the plates and dishes with their
contents flying into our laps. Another steamer, it appeared, had come
right across our bows, and only the presence of mind of the officer
on the bridge of the _Eleonore Woermamm_ in putting the wheel hard
a-port, and so causing our ship to describe a circle to starboard, had
averted what would otherwise almost certainly have been a very terrible
disaster.
INDEX
Accra, 286, 303, 307
Agbandi, 62;
native giant at, 63
Aledjo, beauty and healthfulness of, 85;
mission station at, 86;
grass fires at, 87, 281
Alfred, our interpreter, 54, 102, 103, 169, 244, 309
Anâ, native village, 57, 60
Antelope, 134, 151, 152, 153
Arrows, poisoned, European shot by, 142
Ashantis, 159
Asmani, Schomburgk's personal "boy," 179, 229, 309
Atakpame, 28;
Catholic Mission at, 50, 63, 186, 275, 284, 286, 295
Audassi, 66
Babies, native, 270
Bafilo, the bairam festival at, 90;
cotton industry at, 92;
artificial "pearls" made at, 95, 251
Banjeli, 237; beautiful situation of, 238;
arrival of mail at, 241;
a pig purchased at, 242;
punishing carriers at, 244;
chief of, 245, 249, 250
Bapure, 112
Bassari, 239, 241;
iron market at, 247, 250, 251;
station house at, 252;
Mr. Muckè, Sub-District Commissioner of, 252;
our house at, 253;
I entertain the wives of the Mallam Mohammed at, 257, 291
Bats, a plague of, 139;
as food, 225
Beapabe, native town, 251
Bedford, Duke of, 19
Beer, native, 111
Bees, wild, 259
Beetles, beautiful, 240
Berger, Dr., 57 _et seq._
Betrothals in infancy of native girls, 264
Birds, valuable feather-bearing in Northern Togo, 149, 150, 154
_Bremen_, S.M.S., 26
Buffalo, 20
Butter, native, 139
Bwete, native village, 145
Cameras, damage to by heat, 136
Cameroons, wireless station in, 299
Chameleons, 209
"Chief's mail," 184, 185
Childbirth amongst native women, 268
Children, native, government education of, 290
Cinema acting, on board ship, 21;
in Madeira, 24;
at Kamina, 33;
at Paratau, 77;
at Lome, 305
Cooking, native, 275
Corn-bins, curious, at Tschopowa, 224
Cotton industry, native, 92 _et seq._
Cowrie shells, as money, 97
Crocodiles, 145, 189, 190
Dagomba tribe, 214
Dahomeyans, 159
Death, native ceremonies at, 261, 262
Dedaure, Mallam of, 288
Dehn, Mr. and Mrs., 291
Djabotaure, 64;
adventure at, 65, 293
Djereponi, 208
_Elegante Welt_, German fashion paper, 241
_Eleonore Woermamm_, mail steamer, 310, 311
Elephants, 18;
old spoor of, 121
Fahnenfeld, Baron Codelli von, 29, 31, 36, 47, 196, 292, 296;
Baroness Codelli, 297, 301, 302
Fetish groves, hidden practices in, 273
Fever, 36, 101, 108
Films, industrial, at Bafilo, 92 _et seq._, 97;
ethnological, at Mangu, 136;
travel, at Sumbu, 191;
historical, at Mangu, 200, 201;
Konkombwa, 218;
hippopotami, 225;
iron industry, at Banjeli, 246;
at Bassari, 257
Fishing by natives in the Oti, 135
Francolin, a kind of partridge, 134, 149
Fulani, 137, 156, 159, 180
Fulbe, 137
Gerin-kuka, boisterous welcome to by the Konkombwa people, 115;
rest-house at, 117;
native "songu" at, 118
Gourma, 138, 141, 142, 168, 176
Grass fires, 143, 146
Grey, Hon. W. H., 286
Grouse, remarkable incident in connection with, 206
Gruner, Dr., 140
Hagenbeck, Carl, 19
Hammock travelling, delights of in the African bush, 61;
being "sea-sick" in one, 66, 185
Harmattan, 76;
at Mangu, 131;
a meteorological mystery, 198
Hausas, 202, 203, 219, 225
"Hausa load," 243
_Henny Woermamm_, mail steamer, 21, 22, 26
Hippopotami, 123, 146, 185 _et seq._, 225
---- pygmy, 19, 185
Hirschfeld, Captain von, 125, 127, 128, 132, 133, 137, 140, 143,
155, 199, 203, 205, 243, 253
Hodgson, James, our camera man, 20, 50, 52, 97, 99, 100, 101, 119,
123, 124, 135, 136, 148, 150, 152, 156, 172, 174, 187, 189, 203,
206, 216, 225, 233, 237, 250, 256, 305
Horses, our, waiting for us near Sokode, 67;
am badly kicked by my favourite one, 83;
accident to one, 109, 195, 286
Hyena trapped, 138
Ibubu, native village, 233;
"Roman Fort" at, 233;
trouble with carriers at, 235;
arrest of chief of, 239;
woman carriers from, 239, 243
Insect pests, 38, 134
Iron industry, native, at Banjeli, 245 _et seq._
Jewellery, native, 260
Johnston, Sir Harry, 248
Joyce, Atho, Mr., 248
Kabre Mountains, 137
Kabrischika, native boy, saves my baggage from fire, 298
Kabu, welcome hospitality at, 111
Kabures, native tribe, 63
Kaiser's birthday, 203
Kamaa, river, 253, 280
Kamina, wireless station at, 29;
my house at, 29;
life at, 30 _et seq._;
an adventure, 48, 196, 292, 295, 296 _et seq._
Kara, river, 122
Katscha, river, 250, 251
Kersting, Dr., 70, 85, 90, 234, 252, 254
Kola nuts, 219, 259
Konkombwa, first contact with, 112;
boisterous welcome by at Gerin-Kuka, 115, 138, 147, 211 _et seq._;
dancers, 217 _et seq._, 231, 234, 236, 239, 247
Kuepers, Mr., Government schoolmaster at Sokode, 68, 278, 286, 288,
289, 292
Kugnau, native village, 227;
incident with the Konkombwa at, 231, 232, 237
Lange, Mr., engineer, 57
Las Palmas, 25, 310
Leopard, adventure with a, 100, 194, 196
Lizards, 38, 194
Lome, capital and port of Togo, 21, 27, 184, 253, 284, 303, 304,
305, 307
Madeira, 21 _et seq._, 196
Magu, native village, 147, 197
Malfakasa, 280;
the outlaw of, 283
Mallam Mohammed, of Bassari, 257;
his house, 258;
his wives, 259
Mangu, northernmost Government station in Togo, 125;
Mohammedans in, 130;
timber plantations in, 130;
new station house at, 131;
climate of, 131;
Christmas at, 133;
New Year's Eve festivities at, 133;
trees destroyed by beetles at, 134;
prisoners, native, at, 137;
stone quarry at, 137;
plague of bats at, 139;
native soldiers at, 199, 200;
filming Togo history at, 201, 202;
celebrating the Kaiser's birthday at, 203;
departure from, 205, 251, 278
Manns, Lieutenant, 306
Marabou stork, discovered in Togo by Major Schomburgk, 154;
feathers, 154
Marriage customs, native, 264
Mashukulumbwe people, anecdote concerning, 115
Massow House, at Bassari, 252
Mecklenburg, Duke of, Governor of Togo, 28, 51, 141, 231, 232, 305,
306, 309
Messa, our cook, supposed desertion of, 53 _et seq._;
returns with a young wife, 55;
he annexes our dining-table, 84, 160, 169, 180, 230, 277, 278, 309
Monkey, our pet, 146, 243, 303
Monkeys, wild, 47;
shooting a "dog" monkey, 96
Mosquitoes, 31, 122, 144, 229
Moving Picture Sales Agency, London, 184, 286
Muckè, Mr., of Bassari, 252, 254, 255, 256, 292
Natives, as "supers," 33;
averse to being photographed, 33;
views of on matrimony, &c., 42 _et seq._;
perversity of, 51;
as carriers, 112;
wars, inter-tribal, 200;
as handicraftsmen, 247;
school for at Bassari, 258;
at Sokode, 288
Najo, native village, 197
Nambiri, 209; village chief of, 213, 249
Nebel, Mr. Kay H., 67;
accident while acting with, 77, 88, 89;
leaves for Europe, 91
Njamassila, 60
"Odd Man Out," dramatic film, 21, 24, 91, 92
Ostriches, 203, 234, 246, 303
Oti, river, 122, 126, 134, 141, 144, 147, 148, 151, 156, 185, 188,
192, 227, 233
"Outlaw of the Sudu Mountains," dramatic film, 86;
accident while rehearsing in, 88
Oysters, fresh-water, in the Oti River, 192
"Palaver," a woman, 101 _et seq._;
a man, 104;
at Unyogo, over a soldier's wife, 207
Panscheli, native village, 142, 185, 186, 188
Paratau, 69;
native market at, 73;
children at, 74;
an unhealthy camp, 76, 278, 282, 291
Parpart, Herr von, 261, 285, 291
Plantations, timber, near Mangu, 130;
near Bassari, 254
Poisons, kinds used by natives on their arrows, 142
Polygamy, 267
Porteous, Dr., 143
Potatoes, a luxury in Togo, 278
Quinine, importance of in West Africa, 50
Ramadam, Mohammedan fast, 65
Rentzel, Lieutenant von, 28
Royal Anthropological Institute, 201
Royal Geographical Society, 201, 248
Salt, paying carriers in, 118;
as currency, value of in Northern Togo, 161, 171
Schomburgk, Major Hans, 17 _et seq._, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40,
50, 52, 55, 57, 61, 72, 78, 85, 88, 89, 95, 97, 100, 102, 104,
106, 110, 113, 115, 121, 123, 131, 134, 139, 140, 141, 144, 146,
147, 149, 152, 156, 170, 190, 195, 196, 203, 211, 223, 225, 227,
233, 236, 245, 252, 287
Sleeping sickness, 287
Soap, native made, 267
Sokode, 68, 103, 159, 186, 234, 261, 283, 284, 285, 288, 292
Soldiers, native, 199, 200
"Songu," native rest-house, 137
Sumbu, native village, 156, 164 _et seq._;
inhabitants of, 171, 177
Snakes, adventure with a venomous, 100, 183
Sudu Mountains, 284
Tabalo Mountain, 282
Tamberma Fort, 128;
and people, 129, 130, 202
Tax, head, native, 129
Teneriffe, 25
"Tick-birds," 188
Tim plain, 284
Tschaudjo, native tribe, 69 _et seq._;
clever horsemanship of, 73;
mounted supers, 77, 265, 274, 285
Tschokossi, native tribe, 128, 141, 145, 147, 156, 168, 176, 185,
192, 201, 265, 274
Tschopowa, welcome by natives to, 221;
ceremonial dance at, 222;
marabou feathers worn by natives at, 222, 223;
big baobab tree at, 224;
curious corn-bins at, 225;
bats at, 225
Tsetse-fly, 284, 287
Turtles in the Oti River, 190
Unyogo, 205;
a "woman palaver" at, 207
Uro Djabo, paramount chief of the Tschaudjo, 69 _et seq._, 213
Uro-Ganedo-Bo, 282
Village, native, remarkable fortified, 164 _et seq._
Vultures as scavengers, 98, 139
Vollbehr, Herr, paints my portrait, 306
Widows, hard fate of, 274
Wedding ceremonies, native, 265
"White Goddess of the Wangora," dramatic film, 32 _et seq._, 90, 304
Windhuk, wireless station at, 299
Wireless telegraphy between Kamina and Berlin, 300
Women and girls, native, 40 _et seq._;
a young philosopher, 45;
filming the life of a native wife, 46;
women weavers at Bafilo, 94;
"abduction" of a girl, 102;
modesty of, 105;
wild at Sumbu, 164, 175, 200;
Konkombwa at Nambiri, 215;
a conjugal quarrel, 216;
as carriers, 238, 239;
slaves as iron miners at Banjeli, 246;
marriage customs, 264;
infant betrothals, 264;
illegitimate births, customs regarding, 264, 265;
wedding ceremonies, 265, 266;
polygamy, 267;
childbirth, 268;
fetish women, 272;
introcision, rite of, 272;
initiation ceremonies at puberty, 273
"Zoo," London, two of Major Schomburgk's pygmy "hippos" in, 19;
Hamburg, 187, 235
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
at Paul's Work, Edinburgh
Transcribers' Notes:
Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; inconsistent
hyphenation retained when there was no predominant usage.
Original book spelled "Ramadan" as "Ramadam" three times, and as
"Ramadan" once; none changed.
In the Foreword, "Woermamm" is a misspelling for "Woermann".
Page 88: "eerie" may be a misprint for "eyrie".