THE LIFE OF THE PEOPLE—THE LONG-DISTANCE TRADER
A broad, sandy road, piercing a belt of shea trees, gnarled and twisted,
their bark figured like the markings of a crocodile’s back, from which
peculiarity you can distinguish the true shea from the so-called “false”
shea, or African oak. From the burnt grasses, golden flowers destitute
of leaf companionship peep timidly forth as though fearful of such
uncongenial surroundings. The heat rays quiver over the thirsty soil, for
it is Christmas time and no rain has fallen for nigh upon four months. On
the summit of a blackened sapling, exquisite in its panoply of azure blue
and pinkey-buff, a bird of the size of our English jay but afflicted with
a name so commonplace that to mention it in connection with so glorious
a visitant would be cruel, perches motionless, its long graceful tail
feathers waving ever so slightly in the still air. The sun beats downward
shrewdly, and combined with the gentle amble of the patient beast beneath
you, induces drowsiness. You find yourself nodding in the saddle until
the loosening grip of thighs jerks the rider once more into sentiency.
It is hot, dreamily, lethargically hot. All the world seems comatose,
the unfolding panorama unreal as if seen through a fog of visionary
reverie. But there is nothing fanciful about the rapidly approaching
cloud of dust ahead, which emits a swelling murmur of confused sound. It
takes shape and substance, and for the next half-hour or so, drowsiness
and heat are alike forgotten in the contemplation of a strange medley
of men and animals. Droves of cattle, among them the monstrous horned
oxen from the borders of Lake Chad, magnificent beasts, white or black
for the most part. Flocks of Roman-nosed, short-haired, vacant-eyed
sheep—white with black patches. Tiny, active, bright brown goats skipping
along in joyful ignorance of impending fate. Pack-bullocks, loaded with
potash, cloth, hides and dried tobacco leaves, culinary utensils, and
all manner of articles wrapped in skins or in octagon-shaped baskets
made of parchment, tight drawn in a wicker framework, which later—on
the return journey—will be packed with kolas carefully covered with
leaves. A few camels, skinny and patchy, and much out at elbows so to
speak, similarly burdened. The drivers move among their beasts. Keeping
in the rear, with lengthy staves outstretched over the animal’s back,
they control any tendency to straggle across the road. Tall spare men,
for the most part, these drivers, small-boned, tough and sinewy. Hausas
mainly, good-featured, not unfrequently bearded men, often possessed of
strikingly handsome profiles, with clean-shaven heads and keen cheerful
looks. But many Tuaregs are here also from the far-distant north, even
beyond the Nigerian border; their fierce eyes gleaming above the black
veil drawn across the face, covering the head and falling upon the robe
beneath, once white, now stained and rent by many weeks of travel.
From the shoulders of these hang formidable, cross-handled swords in
red-leather tasselled scabbards. Nor are the Hausas always innocent
of arms, generally a sword. But here is a professional hunter who has
joined the party. You can tell him from his bow held in the right hand
and the quiver of reed-arrows barbed—and, maybe, poisoned—slung across
his back. The legs of the men are bare to the knees, and much-worn
sandals cover their feet. Some carry loads of merchandise, food and
water-gourds; others have their belongings securely fastened on bullock
or donkey. Women, too, numbers of them, splendid of form and carriage,
one or both arms uplifted, balancing upon the carrying pad (_gammo_) a
towering load of multitudinous contents neatly held together in a string
bag. Their raiment is the raiment of antiquity, save that it has fewer
folds, the outer gown, commonly blue in colour, reaching to just below
the knees, the bosom not generally exposed, at least in youth, and where
not so intended, gravely covered as the alien rides by; neck, wrists and
ankles frequently garnished with silver ornaments. Many women bear in
addition to the load upon the head, a baby on the back, its body hidden
in the outer robe, its shiny shaven head emerging above, sometimes
resting against the soft and ample maternal shoulders, sometimes wobbling
from side to side in slumber, at the imminent risk, but for inherited
robustness in that region, of spinal dislocation. Children of all ages,
the elders doing their share in porterage, younger ones held by the hand
(nothing can be more charming than the sight of a youthful Nigerian
mother gladsome of face and form teaching the young idea the mysteries
of head-carriage!). Two tired mites are mounted upon a patient ox, the
father walking behind. A sturdy middle-aged Hausa carries one child on
his shoulders, grasps another by the wrist, supporting his load with his
free hand. A gay, dusty crowd, weary and footsore, no doubt, tramping
twenty miles in a day carrying anything from forty to one hundred
pounds; but, with such consciousness of freedom, such independence of
gait and bearing! The mind flies back to those staggering lines of
broken humanity, flotsam and jetsam of our great cities, products of our
“superior” civilization, dragging themselves along the Herefordshire
lanes in the hop-picking season! What a contrast! And so the trading
caravan, bound for the markets of the south, for Lokoja or Bida—it may
well be, for some of its units, Ibadan or Lagos—passes onwards, wrapped
in its own dust, which, presently, closes in and hides it from sight.
[Illustration: A NIGERIAN HUNTER STALKING GAME WITH THE HEAD OF THE
GROUND HORNBILL AFFIXED TO HIS FOREHEAD.
(_Copyright._) (_Photo by Mr. E. Firmin._)]
Throughout the dry season the trade routes are covered with such caravans
and with countless pedestrians in small groups or in twos or threes—I am
told by men who have lived here for years and by the natives themselves,
that while highway robbery is not unknown, a woman, even unattended (and
I saw many such) is invariably safe from molestation—petty traders and
itinerant merchants, some coming north loaded with kolas, salt and cloth,
others going south with butchers’ provender, potash, cloth, grass, and
leather-ware, etc., witness to the intensive internal commerce which for
centuries upon centuries has rolled up and down the highways of Nigeria.
[Illustration: A TRADING CARAVAN.]