I MAKE MY APPEARANCE IN A NEW CHARACTER.
The sun was well up when I opened my eyes on the following morning
and Aminé had evidently been awake some time, for she was standing
with her chin on the edge of the rough parapet that enclosed the
hollow, looking across the country and beguiling the time by slapping
at the flies that settled on the bark.
“At last thou art awake!” she exclaimed, turning her head as I rose
and stretched my cramped limbs. “I thought thou wast going to sleep
all day. Let us go down and look for something to eat.”
My own sensations strongly seconded this suggestion, so I at once
helped Aminé over on to the monkey-rope, and having passed the
lashing round her and seen her safely to the bottom, I slid down
myself.
The first necessity being the immediate satisfaction of our ravenous
hunger, we took to the stream and eagerly searched the shallows for
shell-fish, and I was filled with mingled envy and disgust at the
indiscriminate way in which Aminé gobbled up every living thing that
she encountered. Nothing came amiss to her. Water-snails, queer little
round-bodied crabs, insect larvæ and fish spawn, all went into her
mouth as soon as they were picked up, while I, more fastidious
although famishing, restricted my diet to the rather scarce mussels.
However, Aminé presently discovered in the forest, close to the
water, a gourd-like fruit about the size of an orange, which she told
me she had often eaten, and as it grew quite profusely in that spot,
we were able to make a really substantial meal and a much more
agreeable one than the uncooked shell-fish afforded.
The question now arose, what were we to do next, and whither should we
direct our steps? We could not lurk for ever in the wilderness, and
yet we hardly dared to enter any town or village.
“We certainly cannot go towards Sálaga,” said Aminé, “for there we
should meet that old thief Salifu and a hundred others like him. The
place is full of slave dealers.”
“Dost thou know anything of the road to the west?” I inquired.
“Not I,” she replied. “I know that somewhere in the west is Bontúku
and, beyond that, Kong in the Wongára country, but how far away I
cannot tell.”
“We had best walk towards the west,” I said, “for we shall at least
lengthen our distance from Sálaga, and perhaps we may meet friends on
the road.”
“It is more likely that we shall meet enemies,” she answered, “for
anyone can see that we are runaway slaves, and if we go into any town,
the first travelling merchant that we meet will claim us and say that
we have escaped from him. Now if we only had a little decent clothing
according to the fashion of our country, no one would notice or molest
us, but we are as naked as a pair of black bush people.”
This was only too true.
Had we been clothed in the Fulah fashion we should have presented
nothing unusual, whereas, although we had as much clothing as most of
the negroes of the district, our fair skins, straight hair, and
regular features were quite out of character with our condition, and
marked us at once as fugitives. However, some move had to be made, and
as we were certainly not encumbered by baggage, we crossed the stream
forthwith and took our way along the track westward; and I was pleased
to see that Aminé, without any suggestion from me, now carried her
sandals slung round her neck by a wisp of creeper, to avoid leaving
any more tell-tale impressions on the ground.
We wandered on at an easy pace, browsing as we went. Some of the trees
had ripe fruit on them--little sloe-like plums, very bitter and
astringent, which Aminé devoured freely--and we met with a number of
dwarf date-palms bearing small, orange-coloured dates which we both
ate although they were dry and insipid; and with these and various
odds and ends of wild fruit that we picked up, we postponed, rather
than satisfied, our hunger for several hours.
Towards afternoon the path along which we were travelling joined a
broader track, the numerous footmarks on which showed it to be a
well-frequented road. Near the junction a small hill stood a few yards
from the road, and, before determining our direction, I climbed to the
summit and surveyed the country. Half-a-mile away on some rising
ground I could see a group of conical thatched roofs, and I was just
considering whether it would be wise to venture on entering the
village, when I perceived a small party of travellers advancing along
the road. Before I had time to examine them they were lost to view
among the trees, but I had been able, in spite of the distance, to
make out that they were dressed like Mahommedans, and were not natives
of the district.
I communicated my observation to Aminé, and we hastily consulted as
to what course we should pursue.
“Let us hide till they have passed,” she urged. “If they are Moslem
they may seize us and take us to Sálaga.”
“But we cannot always hide,” I objected. “Perhaps they may befriend us
seeing that we are Moslem; and they are but few in any case.”
“What shall we say to them? Shall we tell them what has happened?”
I considered, and then there occurred to me a plan which, distasteful
as it was, seemed the most judicious under the difficult
circumstances.
“I will tell thee, Aminé,” I said, “what we shall do. Do thou go and
wait by the roadside, and when the men come, bid them be silent, for
thy master, who is a holy man, meditateth and may not be disturbed.”
“But thou art not a holy man,” objected Aminé. “Thou hast not prayed
once since I met thee.”
“It is no matter,” said I, rather taken aback nevertheless; “do as I
bid thee and they may perchance think that I have cast away my
clothing as a mark of my humility and holiness.”
“They will think thee holy indeed to have cast away my garments as
well as thine own,” exclaimed Aminé laughing. “But thou art not dirty
enough,” she added gravely. “I remember a holy man who came to our
town, who wore only one ragged cloth, but he was very dirty and had a
filthy, tangled beard. My two sisters and I threw plantain skins at
him, and my father beat us.”
“I will rub some dirt upon my skin,” said I, “if thou thinkest it
necessary. And now go and wait by the roadside before they come.”
She went a little distance in the direction from which the party was
approaching, and began to gather some of the scanty but tall
grass-stalks with which to plait a mat, while I sat myself down
crosslegged a few yards off the path, and waited for the strangers.
Presently they appeared round a curve in the road--three men, a woman
and a boy--and as they approached I saw Aminé come out from among the
trees and hold up a warning finger, saying something to them in a low
tone, on which they stopped and apparently questioned her. I sat
motionless as a graven image, and, as the strangers advanced slowly
along the path, I stared unwinkingly into vacancy as one who sees a
vision, and totally ignored their presence.
For their part, they halted in a row opposite me and gazed at me with
frank curiosity as though I were a museum specimen.
This was all very well for a minute or so, but when they all set down
their burdens on the ground that they might observe me at greater
ease, I felt that my position was becoming untenable. I could not
maintain that wooden stare for an indefinite time, in fact, the
corners of my mouth were inclined to twitch already; and as it would
be fatal to laugh, it was necessary to talk: wherefore I opened my
mouth and spake, as though pursuing some profound reflection.
“Moreover,” I commenced, by way of encouraging myself, “have not all
things their appointed places from which they depart not? Does the
river leave its bed and stray up the mountain? Does the moon outpace
the sun and the night tread upon the heels of day? Surely it is not
so. For if the night should struggle against the day and the stars
strive with the sun, then would the earth be confounded and the
infidel rejoice in the pride of his heart.”
I paused to observe the effect of my performance. The men looked at
one another in blank amazement, and one asked in tones of awe:
“Dost thou understand this, Isaaku?”
“Not I,” replied the other. “I am no scholar, and his words are
weighty and deep; but it is profitable to listen to the sayings of the
wise.”
“It seemeth to me,” broke in the boy--an urchin of about ten--“that
this yellow-skinned fellow talketh like an old woman that hath drunk
too much pittu,” whereupon one of the men dealt him a hearty cuff on
the head, and he hastily retreated behind his mother, from which
stronghold he silently defied me by gestures and horrid grimaces.
Seeing that my audience was eager for further samples of my wisdom, I
took up the thread of my reflections.
“And if these things be so; if the hippopotamus may not soar aloft
with the hawk, nor the tortoise perch upon the branch and carol to his
mate; so is it also with man. The housewife shall not sit in the
mosque nor the mallam fetch water from the well.
“These things are known unto the wise, but the foolish regard them
not, considering only the labour of the day or the profit of the
market. For the foolish pile up merchandise and kurdi and gold and
cattle that they may grow fat with much eating; but the wise man
hearkeneth unto the words of the Prophet and giveth alms of that which
is given to him, shareth his plenty with the needy, and giveth shelter
and raiment unto those that are houseless and naked.”
If the first part of my discourse was rather out of the depth of my
hearers, the conclusion enabled them, in nautical phrase, to “strike
soundings,” which they did with a readiness that did them credit.
The eldest man of the party beckoned to Aminé, who had been standing
at a little distance listening, round-eyed and open-mouthed.
“Whither does thy master journey?” he asked.
“We journey to Bontúku,” she replied, with admirable presence of
mind.
“We go towards Bori,” said the man, “so for the next two days we
travel the same road; and if it please thy master to walk with us we
will gladly share our provisions with him.”
“I will ask him,” said Aminé; and stepping over to me she put her
mouth to my ear and gave a shout that nearly stunned me, by way of
arousing me from my reverie.
I staggered to my feet in quite unfeigned confusion.
“This good man,” said she calmly, “asketh if thou wilt walk with his
party and rest by his fire until our ways part.”
I regarded the man with assumed surprise, as if I had not noticed him
before, and then said:
“The companionship of a believer is good when one journeys through the
land of the heathen. I thank thee for thy courtesy and will very
gladly walk in thy company.”
The man--whose name appeared to be Isaaku--seemed highly gratified,
and assured me that all that he possessed was at my service, and, when
I had again thanked him, he and his party took up their burdens and
resumed their journey, Aminé and I following.
We tramped on for a couple of hours through the shadeless, monotonous
orchard country, until we arrived at a small hamlet which was built in
the narrow strip of woodland that fringed a small stream. Here, to my
unspeakable joy, Isaaku announced his intention of staying for the
night, having been on the road since daybreak; and as his people piled
the loads under the village shade-tree, he entered into lengthy
negotiations with the headman (or village chief) with a view to
obtaining the necessary accommodation for the night and permission to
light a fire.
The headman, a good-natured, jocose, elderly man, readily gave
permission for our party to put up for the night in his own house, and
led the way into the compound, whither we removed our baggage. The
house was of the type peculiar to the district of Gwandjiowa or Gonja,
and quite different from anything I had previously seen. The compound
or courtyard was enclosed by a low wall of clay-like mud, which
connected a number of circular huts with high conical roofs of grass
thatch; each hut had an oval doorway about three feet high which
opened on to the compound, excepting a larger hut in the centre of the
wall, which had two doorways, one opening on to the compound and the
other on to the street, so that this hut formed a kind of gate-house,
giving entrance to this miniature walled town.
Through this entry the chief preceded us (on all fours) and we crept
through after him one at a time. There were, in all, eight huts ranged
round the compound, and of these the chief assigned two to our use,
one of which we allotted to the men and the other to the two women and
the boy. The centre of the compound was occupied by a kind of kiln in
which pottery was baked, and as we entered, one of the chief’s sons
was engaged in modelling a large water pot of bluish clay, which he
did very dexterously with his fingers alone, the potter’s wheel being
unknown in this region.
Our people gathered round, as idle persons will, to look on as the
workman’s busy fingers rapidly shaped the mass of clay; and as I had
observed that my unkempt appearance had already excited unfavourable
notice and comment on the part of the villagers, I thought this a
favourable opportunity to assert my character. I therefore raised my
hand to command silence, and proceeded to moralise.
“Behold,” said I, addressing the company in general, “how the labour
of this simple workman speaketh to us admonitions to piety and good
works. For this clay that he kneadeth, which under the foot is but
mire and dirt, fouling the sandal of the traveller and making
difficult the way, when shaped by the skilful and industrious fingers,
becometh a thing of usefulness and beauty, yielding refreshment to the
thirsty and making clean the body of him that laboureth.
“And what are we, my brethren, but mire and clay, until the finger of
knowledge transformeth us and we become as holy vessels full of the
water of wisdom? For the heathen is but the dirt that is trodden under
foot, profitable to none; but when the hand of the potter hath shaped
him into the comeliness of wisdom and faith, then is he fit for good
works, fair to look upon, and profitable to all.
“Nor,” I continued, “is any so humble that he may not be made
glorious. Behold this piece of clay!” I picked up a small pellet and
held it up between my finger and thumb. “It is but a mere morsel of
dirt. Yet can it be made to speak the words of the book of God and
sing His praise without ceasing.” I took the pellet and pressed it
upon the blade of my knife until it formed a smooth flat tablet, and
on this, with the sharp point of the knife, I wrote the opening
sentence of the Koran, “Praise be to God!” and held it aloft.
Our people and the villagers who had crowded round to listen--for all
the Gonja natives understand some Hausa--stared at me in open-mouthed
wonder; and when, at the conclusion of my discourse, I flung away the
clay tablet, the entire assemblage made a wild scramble for its
possession.
“What is written on this tablet?” asked Alla Karímu, one of our
party, who had secured the treasure and was carefully licking the dust
off it.
I told him what the inscription meant.
“I thank thee, Yúsufu,” he said. “I shall roast it in the fire and
sew it up in a leather cover to wear for a laiya (amulet).”
But he was not to enjoy the distinction of being the sole possessor of
an amulet, for the potter was instantly besieged by applicants for
clay pellets, and for the next hour I was kept busy writing
inscriptions on the little tablets, a shea butter lamp being provided
when the daylight faded; and a special fire was made for hardening
them, which process was conducted under the superintendence of the
potter himself.
This rather absurd incident was a fortunate one for me, for by it I
gained the goodwill and respect not only of our own party but of the
villagers, and so far from being a burden to my hospitable host, I
became a benefactor; for the gifts of fowls, yams, and fruit that
poured in on me converted our evening meal into a veritable banquet.
That night, as we sat by the fire on our mats, Isaaku opened his heart
to me on the subject of my appearance, which evidently troubled him
not a little, for, like all Mahommedans, he had very strict ideas
concerning the outward decencies of life.
“It grieveth me, Yúsufu,” said he, “to see thee go so naked and
forlorn. I know thou art a holy man, modest and clean in act and
thought, but I fear that strangers, who know thee not, may scoff to
see one of our faith, and a wise man, walking abroad uncovered as the
heathen do. Moreover, it is not good that thy wife, who is young and
comely, should be seen without decent raiment.”
“Thou speakest wisely, Isaaku, and like a true follower of the
Prophet,” I replied. “I will remember thy words and buy me some
fitting apparel with the first money that I earn.”
Isaaku was silent for a time; then he said somewhat shyly--
“I have in my pack a _riga_ and _wondo_ that I do not need. They are
threadbare and old, and not such as are fitting to one of thy
condition, but, if thou wilt take them, they will at least serve until
thou canst get thee more suitable raiment.”
“I will take thy gift and be very thankful,” I replied, concealing
with difficulty my eagerness and delight; whereupon Isaaku arose and,
calling his wife, went with her into the house allotted to the women.
Presently he came back with a bundle in his hands, which he unrolled
on the mat.
“Here are the garments,” he said. “They are but poor things, and
little worth, but, such as they are, thou art welcome to them.”
I thanked him and shook them out. They were very shabby and none too
clean, and they smelt most horribly of civet; but I was overjoyed at
possessing them, and without more ado I stood up on the mat and put
them on.
As my head came through the hole in the _riga_ I heard Aminé give a
little cry, and looking towards her, saw that she was holding out a
large, blue-striped body-cloth.
“See, Yúsufu!” she exclaimed gleefully; “the good Fatima hath given
me a _túrkedi_.”
She joyfully wrapped the cloth round her body, gave the ends a skilful
little twist under her arm, and drew herself up proudly for me to see;
and certainly, now that she was clothed, she appeared much more
respectable if rather less handsome.
On the following morning we turned out early, and gathering up the
remainder of the provisions that had been given to me, sallied forth
from the village amidst the benedictions of the headman and his
people. Isaaku had added to his present a cotton cap such as the
Wongáras wear, so that I was completely equipped in a humble way,
while, as to Aminé, she tripped along in her new _túrkedi_, as fine
as a sweep’s apprentice on the first of May.
As we walked, Isaaku chatted pleasantly about his experiences, and the
journey on which he was now engaged, and incidentally I learned a
great deal about the town of Bori, whither he was bound, and other
cities of the interior.
“As soon as I reach Bori,” he observed, “I shall get a _mai-tákalmi_
(sandal maker) to sew up the clay tablet that thou gavest me, in a
leather case, that it may not be broken.”
“If I had a piece of paper,” I said, “I would write thee some saying
from the holy book on it, so there should be no fear of thy _laiya_
getting broken.”
“Perhaps we shall find some tree that shall yield us paper to write
on,” replied Isaaku; “then if thou wilt write some holy words on it, I
shall be most thankful.”
To this I made no reply, having no idea what my host meant, and not
wishing to display my ignorance; but while we were taking our midday
rest in a belt of forest that fringed a small stream, the boy Ali came
running to his father with the news that he had found a tree that
would serve our purpose.
“It is the kind of tree that the Ashanti people call _honton_,” said
he, “such as we saw the heathen in Sehui use to make garments of.”
Isaaku and I followed the lad, who proudly conducted us to this
treasure, a not very large tree, of a kind that I recognised as having
seen in the forest.
“This will serve us well,” said Isaaku, and drawing his knife he made
four deep incisions in the bark, marking off a space about three feet
square.
“Thou must first bruise it, father, or it will not come off,” said
Ali, and accordingly he fell to hammering the incisions with a heavy
branch.
“Gently, gently, my son!” exclaimed Isaaku. “Beat not too hard, or
thou wilt spoil it for writing upon. We want it for paper, not for
cloth.”
He tapped the marked space with the handle of his knife until the
outer bark was loosened, when he peeled it off in strips. Then,
sticking the point of the knife into the incision, he prised up a
corner of the inner bark, and with the aid of his finger-nails
stripped off a square sheet of what looked like coarse, rather flimsy,
canvas.
“See, my son,” he said, showing it to Ali, “if thou wantest it for
writing thou must keep it smooth, but if it is for cloth, then must
the pulp be bruised out of the meshes.”
He rolled the bark up carefully and tied it lightly on top of his load
that it might dry in the sun as we went along, and we then resumed our
journey, travelling on at a rapid pace until late in the afternoon,
when we entered a large village on the bank of the great river. Here,
while Fatima and Aminé were busying themselves with preparations for
the evening meal, Isaaku borrowed a small shallow bowl in which he
ground up some charcoal and a piece of gum with water, and having
obtained some fowl’s feathers, laid the collection before me, with the
bark, which he had cut up into pieces a few inches square.
They were not ideal writing materials, but I found that it was
possible to produce with them characters sufficiently distinct to
answer the purpose; so I got to work while the light lasted, and
wrote, from memory, on each of the squares of bark, the short but fine
and dignified introductory chapter to the Koran.
Our people gathered round and listened reverently while I read out the
words of praise and exhortation, and I then distributed one of the
squares to each of the men and to Fatima. The remainder, with the
exception of three which I kept for my own use, I made up into a
little package and handed to Isaaku, saying that perhaps he might like
to give them to some of his friends. He was delighted with the gift,
and most profuse in his thanks, and this being the last evening that I
was to spend in his company, he directed Fatima to prepare some
provisions for my use on the morrow. Then he took me aside to give me
some advice as to my future proceedings.
“Hast thou any friends in Bontúku?” he asked somewhat anxiously.
“I hope to meet some of my countrymen there,” I replied.
“I trust thou wilt,” said he uneasily, “for thou hast more piety and
learning than worldly wisdom, and art but poorly provided even for a
short journey.”
“Man bringeth nought into the world and taketh nought away with him,”
said I.
“That is true,” he replied. “But while he is in the world he needeth
food and raiment. Faith is precious, but it filleth not the belly.
However, here is a little store to carry thee to Bontúku, and may God
prosper thee and make thee as rich in the things of this world as thou
art in those of the next.”
He drew from the pocket of his _riga_ a small wicker bag full of
cowrie shells and put it into my hand.
“I like not to take thy _kurdi_,” said I hesitatingly. “Is it not
enough that thou hast fed me since I met thee by the way?”
“Not so,” he answered. “It is thou that hast fed us; besides thou
knowest that the amulets that thou hast given me shall bring a good
price among the merchants at Bori.”
I had not thought of this, and now rejoiced to have a fresh means of
getting a livelihood opened out to me; so I thanked Isaaku and
deposited the _kurdi_ in my pocket.
We were up at daybreak on the following morning, and proceeded in a
body to the river side, where we found the ferryman whipping the
sprung handle of his paddle with a thong of sheepskin.
Our household furniture had now increased to a grass mat and a wicker
bag, in which the provisions were stored, and while Aminé was getting
into the canoe with these, I laid my hand on the head of each of my
friends in succession, and bestowed on them my solemn benediction.
Then I stepped into the canoe and, as the ferryman had now completed
the repairs on his paddle, we pushed off amidst a chorus of good
wishes from our friends upon the bank.