FROM ALLADA TO AGRIME.
Early on December 16th, we were walking the wet path. A little to the
north of Allada, and to the left of the road, lies almost buried in
grass, under a tall tree, the so-called “battery,” a row of twenty-eight
guns. They are “all dismounted and much out of kelter”: fifteen are
ship’s swivels, the others are long carronades, rusty and neglected,
with their muzzles resting upon rough logs. This is the more curious as
the Dahomans have made, I am told, tolerable gun-carriages. The cleared
and open highway was well travelled over; the sides, alternately grassy
and bushy, had been burnt during the “dries,[155]” and the maize-crops
were finer than those near the sea. The undergrowth of herbaceous plants
rendering the forest unpierceable, reminded me of the inner Gaboon
country. After a fair stretch of level, we arrived at a “halfway house,”
called Atto-gon—Monkey’s Place. The old chief, Atto,—the Monkey,—gave us
the customary muddy water, oranges, papaws, and lean but exceedingly
tough fowls: here, as in Eastern Africa, the aged and masculine are
preferred, as having a higher flavour and offering harder work to the
masticators.
Another short hour through a denser jungle than before, with occasional
clearings, where the sun, which had dispersed the mists, broiled our
backs,[156] placed us at Henvi Asinhwi—Henvi of the hand-clapping. It is
related that when Agaja, the Conqueror, left Henvi proper to attack
Whydah, he halted on this spot, then a “bush.” A messenger arrived and
recalled him to his mother’s funeral. Leaving the dead to bury their
dead, he smote his palms together in token of grief, and ordered “Henvi
of the hand-clapping” to be built _in memoriam_. It is a very small
market upon, and a little village to the right of, the road. Though only
a single pair of warrior dancers appeared, we were obliged by civility
to descend from our hammocks, and to receive from the chief Atakpa the
customary gifts.
After another mile we enter Hen-vi—“Hold the child”—so called because,
like Sienna in Tuscany, it is supposed to open its heart wider than its
gates. It is also known as Henvi Dò-vo (vaw), or Henvi the Red-walled,
and our “blind travellers” have corrupted it to Hawee or Havee. Like all
those towns between Allada and the capital, it has its tattered
“palace,” and a fetish-house in somewhat better preservation. A
tolerable-sized village, and surrounded by giant trees, it looked
pleasant and cool, though the sky was bathed in the burning light of the
tropical sun. There is a market, but the water is bad and dear, and
provisions are so scarce that the price of the leanest chicken is two
shillings. There is, however, tolerable palm-wine brought from the bush.
At Henvi sets off the north-western road, which, when the Agrime swamp
is bad, leads to the capital: it is, as will be seen, longer, but
easier.
We placed our stools next a tree opposite the large gateway of the royal
abode, and were entertained with the usual dance. Here, however, there
was something of novelty,—the first of the “Amazons” made their
appearance. The four soldieresses were armed with muskets, and habited
in tunics and white calottes, with two blue patches, meant for
crocodiles. They were commanded by an old woman in a man’s straw hat, a
green waistcoat, a white shirt, put on like the breeches of the good
King Dagobert—_à l’envers_—a blue waist-cloth, and a sash of white
calico. The virago directed the dance and song with an iron ferrule, and
her head was shaded by way of umbrella, with a peculiar shrub, called on
the Gold Coast “God’s Tree.[157]” The few men showed us some attempts at
tumbling and walking upon their hands. Two of the women dancers were of
abnormal size, nearly six feet tall, and of proportional breadth, whilst
generally the men were smooth, full-breasted, round-limbed, and
effeminate-looking. Such, on the other hand, was the size of the female
skeleton, and the muscular development of the frame, that in many cases
femineity could be detected only by the bosom. I have no doubt that this
physical superiority of the “working sex,” led in the Popo and Dahoman
race to the employment of women as fighters.[158] They are the domestic
servants, the ploughboys, and the porters, and Gallegos, the field
hands, and market cattle of the nation,—why should they not also be
soldiers? In other matters they are by no means companions meet for men:
the latter show a dawn of the intellectual, whilst the former is purely
animal—bestial. Hence, according to some, the inordinate polygamy of the
race.
After breakfasting in the house of a good old man, one of the local
Buko-no, or Diviners, we bade adieu to Henvi of the Red walls. In places
the path was girt with an impenetrable herbaceous growth, in others
there rose on either hand noble hedges of forest trees: here the wintry
leaves still strewed the ground, there the jungle waxed thinner,
suggesting the possibility of passage. Amongst the long white llianas,
some thick as a man’s leg, and bracing down Cotton-woods eighty feet
high, I thought to recognise the gum-elastic creeper: the Europeans,
however, speak only of a ficus which supplies a kind of a caoutchouc.
A short hour placed us at Whe-gbo, a small place on the right of the
road. My interpreters explained the name thus. On this spot the three
royal brothers of Allada disputed long and fierily about each one’s
chance of being the greatest. As the question could not be settled, a
councillor cried out, “No one can decide (_whe_) a palaver so great
(_gbo_).” Upon that ground the present hamlet is built.
When we had disposed ourselves under the fig and fetish trees abounding
at Whe-gbo, the war-chief Suzakon danced at the head of his half-a-dozen
fellows, and waxed inordinately fierce. It is not a little startling to
see how suddenly, the war-dress doffed, these ruffling heroes subside
into the servile and timid “nigger.” Though the little knot of
Falstaff’s recruits knew not how decently to cut off an imaginary head,
their great captain boasted that the next month would see him in
Abeokuta. An exceedingly fat old woman joined her _confrère_ in the
_improvisé_ song, and professed her readiness to do or die by his side:
we shook our heads gravely, and the bystanders roared with laughter.
When the Ajablaku or civilian-chief had made his present, we urged on
the hammockmen, who were becoming frantic for _Ahan_, their rum.
Noon had sped before we left Whe-gbo. The trees became even more
gigantic than before, and presently we fell into a long descent; it is
the second step, Azohwe being the first. After two hours we reached
Akpwe, at the southern extremity of the Great Swamp.
Its name is explained to be the fetish or supernatural part of the Loko
or “Sauce-wood” tree. In old times it belonged to a people called Aizoh,
who, until conquered by Dahome, extended from near Agrime to Toli, and
from this place westwards to Toffo,[159] where they are mixed with the
Ffons. It contains a royal palace, or rather precincts of a guttered
tumble-down wall, with a barn-like shed built over the gate, where
travellers may rest. We went to the house of the chief, who, not
expecting us, had refused admission to our men. The poorest market on
the road was found at Akpwe. As we near the capital the population
becomes thinner, and the display less, whilst a dozen women and children
are seen for every one man. The principal performers in the dance were
our own porters.
On December 17th, almost before the birds had begun their matins, we
arose and sent forward our fellows: this morning we were to cross _the_
Marsh, the terror of travellers during the wet season. The people term
it “Ko,” the Swamp, which appears to be a proper name, as a common bog
is called “Agbábá.” The Europeans know it by the Portuguese word,
“Lama”—mire or mud. For better distinction I propose to name it the
“Agrime Swamp.” This northern limit separated the old kingdom, Allada,
from the original Dahome. To the latter it is still an important
strategical point moating it to the south: at certain seasons it would
be almost impossible for the lightest of field artillery to cross
it.[160] The marshy forest forms a zone said to cut through Dahome from
the lagoon of Hwebonu (Porto Novo) eastward, to that of Porto Seguro on
the west. Travellers differ about its course, and many declare it to be
stagnant. On the western road, however, I found it distinctly draining
to the west, and I therefore conclude that it feeds the Haho, Avon, or
Porto Seguro Water. From December till June it may be crossed in two to
three hours, and thus its breadth may be six to seven miles. Between
July and November it is a severe task: visitors to the King have spent
two days of continuous toil with ten hammock-men who were up to their
armpits in water, to their calves in mire, and subject to perpetual
tripping by the network of tree-roots catching their feet. The present
has been an unusually dry year: we shall traverse the greater part
without knowing it.
Whilst all was _en grisaille_, we struck, staff in hand, through the
“dismal forest,” as old writers call it. The hammock became useless, the
mud, hard-caked like that frozen by a German winter, wounds the feet of
the bearers; they march at the rate of one mile an hour, and the
frequent irregularities of the surface make them sidle into the bush,
where tree stubs abound, and where falls are imminent. The path was
tortuous, but easy to a walker, and hardly anywhere impassable to an
American light waggon. The sixth King Sinmenkpen (our Adahoonzou II.,
1774-1789) was the Macadam of Dahome. Resolving to make the “Ko”
passable to his strangers, he handed over a string, ten yards long, to
each caboceer,—a significant hint. This passage, we are told, cost
incredible labour and fatigue before the hurdle bridges over the swamps
were widened and the gullies were filled up. There were two depressions
of black mud, decayed vegetation, and beyond those points the surface,
though caked and cracked, was of lighter hue; its general unevenness
told its difficulty during the rains. The only fetor in the bush was
that of the large black ant, which suggests that a corpse is hidden
behind every tree.[161]
The road was crowded with porters, hastening up to the Customs. After
every 100 or 200 yards were dwarf thatches containing travellers’
bedsteads, rough branches laid on cross-bars supported by forked
uprights, and all in ruinous state. These were the remnants of huts used
by the soldiery when firing to Whydah.[162] At the half-way house,
Wondonun,[163] we found by the aneroid that we had descended from 417 to
within 134 feet of sea-level, explaining _the_ Swamp’s stagnancy. The
little village is in a kind of island, which never floods; it has,
however, a temporary and a miserable look. Around it is a wild and wiry
grass showing old husbandry, and extensive plantations of plantain.
We ranged our chairs under an open shed in the market-place of Wondonun,
and were not excused the usual infliction. The single white umbrella
there present mustered his _corps de ballet_ with two separate rings of
different sexes. And we had the politeness to look on for half-an-hour.
Whilst the sun was still young, we left Wondonun, and struck once more
into the bush; the ground, though hard and flakey, was level, and
presently tall black anthills showed that we had reached the northern
edge of the swamp, where water does not regularly extend. A long hour
placed us at Aiveji,[164] where drink and another dance awaited us. The
soil from black mud had become white sand, and presently it assumed the
normal red tinge. The surface was grass, burned in places: high and
lush, it showed that the land had long lain fallow; the later
cultivation was denoted by finer and thinner wild growths. Aiveji is a
little village of thatch, almost buried in dense verdure, and near the
road was a scatter of tattered hovels, the “khambi” or grass camp of the
East African interior.
Excusing ourselves from halting in the heat of the sun, we passed on to
Agrime, the end of this stage. The level differs little from that of
Wondonun: we are still but 232 feet above the sea. Here, however, we
strike the “true Coast” of Africa; the alternate dunes and morasses
disappear for a regular and northerly inclination, whilst pebbles are
now mixed with grass, shells, and broken palm-nuts, to temper the house
swish. The stones, all rounded and water-washed, contained a large
proportion of iron, and a smaller quantity of copper. Some Europeans
declare that they have found traces of gold,[165] especially in the
pottery: I saw nothing but an abundance of mica.[166] Others have gone
so far as to say that the King, like his father, is aware of the
precious metal existing in that portion of the “Kong Mountains” which
subtends the north of Dahome, and that this is his reason for barring
the road to travellers.[167] Others more reasonably opine that such a
secret could not possibly be kept, especially when so many Gold Coast
men are in the country; and, moreover, that the Dahomans are not such
fools as to leave gold undug.
Agrimen—“In the wall”—derives its name from an old legend. When Jemeken
was the chief, it was predicted to him that his wall must shake unless
he daily “ate” (_i.e._, exacted as a tax upon goods passing the place) a
“kene” and a “tene” (160 and 9) of cowries. When the King is in country
quarters at Kana, strangers halt here, send forward their message-canes,
and request permission to advance. We were received with the usual
ceremony, a single soldier being the performer in a circle of some
twenty unarmed squatters. Presently a messenger informed us that we were
not wanted till the morrow. We spread the table under a thick orange-
tree, and strewed it with wild mangoes, smelling like apples, and with
cocoas, which extend as far as Agbome; the pineapple here, as at the
capital, was found in a savage state, and without fruit. Our beds were
hung in a new mud-house, lately built inside the royal precincts for the
use of white travellers. The place is one of dignity; we were soon
informed that it is not “etiquette” to follow any walk where we could be
sighted by “King’s wives.” A large cynocephalus, a ground-pig, and
divers interesting muscicapæ were to be seen in the maize, but could not
be shot, being in the King’s palace. These ridiculous pretensions are
doubtless invented by petty captains _pour se faire valoir_.
Unfortunately white visitors, from Frenchmen to Brazilians, have ever
endured this bullying without a murmur, and now the stain is hardly
delible from the black mind.[168]
This chapter may conclude with a few remarks touching the route
travelled over.
The aspect of the country confirms the general impression that the
Dahomans were, for negroes, an industrious race, till demoralized by
slave hunts and by long predatory wars. The land has at no distant
period been well cleared, and it is still easy to reclaim, though in
time the fallows will be again afforested. Others opine that it has of
late been the royal policy to gird the capital with a desert, as the
surest defence against invaders.
However that may be, Africa, as far as I know her, shows few such ruined
regions as that viewed during the last four days. The scantiness of the
population, and the disproportion of women and children to adult males,
strike every eye. The hackneyed excuse is that there is a general muster
for war or ceremony at the capital: the fact is that, beyond a few towns
in which there is centralization, the country is a luxuriant wilderness.
On the Gold Coast, and about the Gaboon River and the South Coast, even
a peasant will have his chair, table, cot, and perhaps boxes, for goods.
Here he never dreams of such ownership. The cause is, of course, the
ruler, who by spiritual advice acts upon the principle that iron-handed
tyranny is necessary to curb his unruly subjects, and to spare him the
painful necessity of inflicting upon them death or the “middle
passage”—the Hamitic form of transportation. More to make them feel his
power than to ameliorate their condition, he will not allow them to
cultivate around Whydah coffee and sugar-cane, rice and tobacco, which
at times have been found to succeed.[169] Similarly King Gezo
stringently prohibited the growth of ground-nuts, except for purely
domestic purposes. A caboceer may not alter his house, wear European
shoes,[170] employ a spittoon-holder, carry an umbrella without leave,
spread over his bed a counterpane, which comfort is confined to princes,
mount a hammock, or use a chair in his own home; and if he sits at meat
with a white, he must not touch knife or fork.[171] Only “a man of
puncto” may whitewash the interior of his house at Agbome, and the
vulgar must refrain from this, as well as from the sister-luxury of
plank or board doors. And so in everything.
* * * * * *
It was a lovely evening at Agrimé, ushering in a cool clear night; the
atmosphere told us that we had changed the false for the true tropical
Africa,—the swampy outskirt for the hard hem of the rich garment. The
moon shone brightly, exciting the hyæna, and inducing from the frogs
many a βρεκεκεκεξ, κοαξ, κοαξ. Unusually distinct was that dark
mysterious oval which sailoring men call the “coalsack,” and our “jungle
clock,” of which Dante sang—
“Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente
Al altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle
Non criste mai fuorch’ alla prima gente.”
It may savour of heresy to say so, but I confess never to have
discovered the charms of this useful but homely constellation. When the
major axis of the Southern Cross is perpendicular, the form resembles
that of a boy’s lob-sided kite; horizontal, it is like a badly-made
four-legged stool.
[Footnote 155: The firing month is February, when the conflagrations
sometimes scorch and scathe the lower bows of the gigantic trees. The
operation seems here, as in Fernando Po, to enliven them, and a brighter
green follows the injury.]
[Footnote 156: The open country near Allada is the hottest part of the
march; it is a sensible relief to plunge into the forest.]
[Footnote 157: Yammi Dueh. Its prickly stem throws off at the summit
three leafy shoots; the old Portuguese utilized this vegetable
_bizarrerie_ as St. Patrick is said to have done with the shamrock.]
[Footnote 158: In the Bonny River the women appear to me larger than
men.]
[Footnote 159: For a short account of Toffo, see chapter xxiv.]
[Footnote 160: North of Agrime the heaviest battering train would find
no difficulty till it reaches the Makhi mountains.]
[Footnote 161: The experiments made by Mr. Duncan tend to show that the
smell emitted by this species of ant is a poison to other insects.]
[Footnote 162: See, for a description of this ceremony, chapter xxii.]
[Footnote 163: Interpreted to mean a place where some monstrous prodigy
was produced from _won_ (“portent” or “bad thing,” as, for instance, a
child born with teeth, or speaking prematurely) and _Do-nun_ (s.s. as
_do kho_, _i.e._, speak palaver).]
[Footnote 164: ’Ai’ (ground), Vé (red thing), and Ji (on): it is so
called because built on red soil.]
[Footnote 165: Barbot, Book IV., chap. i., speaks of the “country of
Tafou, in which are said to be mines of gold”; but he clearly did not
know its whereabouts. According to Mr. Duncan (vol. ii., p. 307), gold
is as plentiful in Dahome as in Ashanti; but it is quite superseded by
the slave-trade. No one believes him. It is not a little curious that
these people, like the Mandengas, the Fanti of the Gold Coast, and the
natives of the Gaboon river, call gold “Sika.” Mr. R. Bruce Walker, now
of Lagos, informs me that, “At R. Frisco, near C. Lahou, which is the
most westerly point on the West African coast, when gold is found, the
people call it Asika.” All these dialects being totally different, the
word must have been borrowed by one tribe from the other, suggesting
that all do not produce the metal. Can it be connected with the Asiatic
“Sikkeh”?]
[Footnote 166: The pottery made at Agbome glitters with mica, and these
“paillettes” have probably imposed upon the credulous.]
[Footnote 167: According to the apocryphal M. Wallon, King Gezo used to
say that the mountains north of his kingdom produced gold, but that he
preferred the cowrie currency, as with it there could be no forgery;
moreover, no man could be secretly rich. At present, when doubloons are
paid for slaves, the monarch monopolises all the gold in the country.
The last haul of doubloons was made by H.M.S. Prometheus, who found
£8000 stowed away in soap bars. Since that time, specie is brought out
in the mail steamers, and bills are drawn on Messrs. L——i and Co.,
L’pool.]
[Footnote 168: The caboceer of Allada objected to Mr. Duncan measuring a
cotton tree without the King’s leave.]
[Footnote 169: Mr. James, thinking the tea-plant indigenous to Dahome,
endeavoured to cultivate it, and of course failed.]
[Footnote 170: The only shoes permitted are the kind of leather bags
called Imálen fo-kpá, or Moslem slippers, and these cannot be assumed
without royal permission.]
[Footnote 171: Formerly caboceers were not allowed to drink out of a
glass in the royal presence; now the King will even offer it.]