These folk stories have been told to me by natives of the various
countries to which they relate in the Ikom district of Southern
Nigeria. In all cases they have had to be translated by an interpreter,
and frequently it has been found necessary to employ two. Some of the
stories are very old and have been handed down from one generation to
another, but it is most difficult, almost impossible, to judge with
any degree of accuracy how old they really are. The word “dowry” comes
frequently into these tales, and is used as meaning the amount paid
to the parents of the girl by the husband. In the introduction to my
_Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria_, published in 1910, Mr. Andrew
Lang suggests that the term “bride-price” would better express the
institution, and, no doubt, he is perfectly right. I have, however,
adhered to the old expression of “dowry” as it is in general use, and
is so well known on the “Coast.” When a man is asked how much “dowry”
he paid for his wife, he will frequently produce his “bush book,”
consisting of bundles of small sticks tied round with “tie-tie,” one
bundle for each year. He will then take one stick from a bundle, and
holding it up will say: “That is two calabashes of tombo I gave to the
father.” He will then place the stick on the ground and take another,
saying “This is one fathom of cloth I gave to the girl.” The next stick
may represent twenty yams given to the mother, and the following sticks
may mean twenty-five rods, a silk handkerchief, a bar of soap and some
bottles of gin. And so he goes on until the bundles are finished, the
value of each article being noted in order to ascertain the total
amount paid. The marriage customs vary considerably in different parts
of the district. In most of the Cross River towns above Abaragba there
is no restriction placed on young girls as to sexual intercourse,
but when they are married twenty-five pieces of cloth (value 5s. per
piece) would be paid as damages for adultery. There is, however, an
old custom existing between several towns that no damages can be
claimed for adultery. It may be of interest to the reader to state here
briefly the usual form of marriage in vogue in this district as the
point of several of the tales turns on the position of the woman with
reference to her husband or lover. I do not, however, propose to enter
into details, but merely to indicate what constitutes a binding form
of marriage in this part of the country according to native custom.
When a man takes a fancy to a young girl and wishes to marry her, he
informs the parents of his intention, and gives them presents. For
example, the mother would receive a piece of cloth, and the father a
piece of cloth and two bottles of gin. The brothers and sisters of the
girl would be given _tombo_ to drink, and in addition the sisters would
receive one fathom of cloth each. The man would work on the parents’
farm for some months, and the girl would receive small presents from
time to time. Later the mother would be given two bars of salt, one
spoon, one bar of soap, and twenty yams, the balance of the dowry being
paid on the completion of the marriage ceremony. The girl would go and
live with the man. If she did not prove satisfactory, she would be
returned to her parents, who would refund the amount of dowry received
up to date, and the girl would be given a present of about 8_s._; she
could then marry another man. If, however, she satisfied the man, he
would then have her circumcized by her parents, and the man would touch
her with camwood. Having done this he would hand the girl over to his
best friend to rub all over with camwood. The man would then build a
house for the woman, being helped with the mudding of the walls by
his sisters and the sisters of the girl. He would then buy two pieces
of cloth and one blanket, and hang them round the walls of the house.
While the girl was being rubbed with camwood the friends of the husband
would give her presents of sometimes four or five rods each, and his
best friend would fire off a gun in the compound where the girl was.
When the parents heard the gun, they would go in and say: “There is
your wife, we have handed her over to you.” The man would then tell
everybody that the girl was his wife. The girl would remain in one
room for about two weeks after the above-mentioned operation, until
the wound was healed, and then the man would give a feast to all his
friends, the cost of the food forming part of the dowry. The girl would
then go to live with her husband, and the ceremony would be completed.
There appears to be a considerable divergence of opinion between the
chiefs and the young men as to whom the children brought forth by a
woman before her marriage should belong. Most of the old chiefs say
that such children should go to the man who marries the mother and pays
the dowry, as children are a valuable asset. On the other hand, the
younger generation maintain that when the children are old enough to
leave their mother they should be handed over to their proper fathers.
This conflict of opinion is not difficult to follow, as the young men
are generally the fathers of the children born before marriage, and
the old chiefs who are wealthy are generally the husbands, and both
the putative fathers and the lawful husbands are anxious to possess
the children. It is a vexed question, and each case would be decided
upon its own merits, the opinion of the parents of the woman weighing
largely in the balance. This opinion is influenced to a great extent
by the value of the presents received from the young man and how much
he has helped the parents with their work on the farm. If the parents
were satisfied, they would probably say that the child or children
should belong to the father, but if, on the other hand, the presents
were not large enough, they would most likely urge that the children of
their daughter born before she was married should belong to her lawful
husband. It should be remembered that the feelings of the girl are in
no way considered, and she is handed to the man, as a wife, who is in
a position to pay the largest amount of dowry. It is therefore often
somewhat difficult to distinguish the difference between the dowry paid
for a girl on her marriage and the price which was formerly paid for
a slave, seeing that the inclinations of the girl are not consulted
and she has absolutely no say in the matter of a choice of husband.
When the dowry is paid she is taken away from her lover, together with
any children she may have had by him, and handed over to the husband
by her parents, the question of the rightful ownership of the children
being settled usually when they are old enough to leave their mother.
In the olden days when “might was right,” these children were taken by
the husband, who kept them by the “strong hand” if he were sufficiently
powerful; but there is a growing feeling amongst the younger chiefs
and the more intelligent trading classes that the children born before
marriage should be given to the father when they are weaned.
It will be observed on perusing some of these stories that in several
of them the greater part of the tale has nothing, apparently, to do
with the main object, which frequently might be dismissed in a few
sentences. But that will not surprise anyone who knows the native well,
as he can never come to the point at once, but must always first beat
about the bush. For example, a native will come to make a complaint
that certain goods belonging to him have been stolen and he wants
to have the thief punished. After the usual salutations have been
exchanged, he will make his complaint, which when translated by the
interpreter will be something like the following: “My father and father
(grandfather) catch one man goat and one woman goat. They done born two
piccane. One piccane done die and leff one piccane. Them piccane, them
leff, born two piccane. My father and father done die and him brother
take all them thing; but he be big hunter man and no care them goat too
much, so he done dash my father. My father catch one slave man, they
call ’im Okon and he good man, so my father dash him them two goat.
Okon catch wife and two piccane. One be mammie piccane they call ’im
Awa, she fine too much, when she done grow I marry her proper and take
her brother Abassi for make my head boy. Last moon I send him Calabar
for my canoe with twenty bag kernel and one puncheon palm oil. I tell
’im for factory and bring tobacco and cloth and gin. He done catch them
thing and one night he stop for one country, he no know how them call
him. Them people come and thief them gin for night time but he no look
them man cause he live for sleep, so I make them boy pay for them gin
and now I want catch them thief man.”
Anyone who takes the trouble to read these folk stories seriously will
notice that a great deal has to be taken for granted or understood.
Although I have made a special study of witchcraft, ju-ju, and poison,
and the various societies in this district for over nine years, I must
confess that I understand and _know_ for certain very little about
ju-ju. In fact, the more one learns about ju-ju the more hopeless it
seems. It must seem incredible to people at home that a man can die
because a ju-ju has been made against him--for example, two sticks
crossed on the path with, say, a rotten egg and a fowl stuck on a
stick, the man’s name having been “called.” And yet one knows of
numerous instances where men have died, and young, healthy men, too,
against whom such a ju-ju has been made. The man whose name has been
“called” and who has passed the ju-ju firmly believes in its power to
kill him, and he will go home, refuse to eat, and in a short time will
pine away and die. He will probably also just before he dies accuse
the man whom he thinks made the ju-ju of having witched him. It is
always possible, of course, in these cases, that poison may have been
administered, but it is most difficult to get any proof. No amount of
argument has any effect on the native mind, and you cannot convince the
man that a ju-ju, such as the one mentioned above, is harmless. They
generally reply: “Black man ju-ju no be strong enough to hurt white
man, but black man he go die one time.”
When I first came to this district, poisoning was rife, and human
sacrifices were of frequent occurrence. Whenever a chief died several
slaves were killed and buried with him, and it was no uncommon thing
for a whole family to accuse another family of witchcraft. They would
then resort to the usual trial by ordeal of burning oil and _essure_
(poison) bean, which would result in several deaths. These evil
practices have been practically stopped now, but the native belief in
witchcraft and ju-ju is just as strong as ever, although they know
quite well that to call a man a witch is an offence for which they will
get into trouble. As an instance of the native belief in the witch bird
(the owl), I would mention a case which came under my notice. Some few
years ago I happened to be having some bush cleared and some large
trees cut down on the station at Okuni. An owl was disturbed from one
of the trees which was covered with creepers, and flew out hooting.
One of the station labourers who knew a little English, said: “Poor
Okuni.” I at once asked him why he said so, and he replied, “When them
witch bird cry for day time, some man go die.” I said, “Nonsense,”
or something to that effect, and thought no more about it. Shortly
afterwards the eleven o’clock bell rang, and the boys went home for
food. When they returned at one o’clock to work, the boy who had spoken
about the owl said, “Man done die for Okuni when them witch bird cry.”
I then sent to the town and found that a man had died in the morning.
This was proof positive to the boy’s mind that whenever the owl hooted
in the daytime a man would die, and no amount of explanation would
alter his belief. It was a case of “I told you so.”
It is noteworthy that when you get over the watershed between the Cross
River and the Katsena (Niger), and into the Munchi country, ju-ju does
not seem to exist in the same way as it does further south. In the
year 1909, while I was Political Officer on the Anglo-German Boundary
Commission, I marched up through the Munchi country into Northern
Nigeria, and back again, being absent from my district altogether about
six months. During the whole of that time there was not a single death
in any of the Munchi or Domi towns where I stayed. It was so noticeable
that even the soldiers and carriers remarked upon the absence of
deaths, and could not understand the reason. It may have been that the
country was more healthy, and we may have been very fortunate, but
the fact remains that where there was no ju-ju there were no deaths,
and when we returned to the country of ju-ju deaths were of frequent
occurrence.
It has been suggested in one of the criticisms on my _Folk Stories
from Southern Nigeria_ that the native words should be given on one
side of the page, and a fairly literal translation on the other. This
would, however, involve a larger expenditure of time than I have at my
disposal. There are ten different languages spoken in this district,
and it would be extremely difficult to give exact translations of the
stories, particularly as some of them as told would be quite unfit
for publication. The stories have, however, been set down as nearly
as possible in the way they were related to me, the only alterations
made being those necessary to render the tales into simple English, as
bush English would not be understood, and certain passages containing
objectionable matter have been omitted.
In some of the stories it may be noticed that articles such as plates,
glasses, bottles of gin, brass pans, and pots have been mentioned,
also the use of locks and keys has been introduced into at least one
of the tales, although it is quite obvious that the above-mentioned
articles could not have existed in this country when the majority of
the stories were first related, I have written them down when they were
so translated by the interpreter. It is not difficult to understand how
some of the things crept into the stories. For example, demijons (which
are brought up river from Calabar filled with rum) are used every day
in most of the towns for tombo, and glass tumblers are also quite
common, and it is easily conceivable that a native, who is accustomed
to using these articles, in relating a story might say in his language
the equivalent for “The pourer-out then took the demijon of tombo
and poured some into a glass which he gave to the chief,” instead
of saying, “The pourer-out then poured some tombo from the calabash
into the drinking-horn which he handed to the chief.” The latter
translation would probably be far nearer to the original version. It
is also extremely doubtful whether brass rods, which are mentioned so
frequently, existed at the date of many of the stories. The approximate
date of the importation of rods into this country is probably known,
and cannot be more than about sixty years ago, and most likely
considerably less. The author is of the opinion that in the early
days there was no form of native currency in the Ikom district. At
the present time, rods are not used further north-east from Ikom than
Umbaji, and in 1909, whilst on the Anglo-German Boundary Commission,
he found that there was no form of native currency at Bassankwala, and
no substitute therefore, with the possible exception of a few native
forged iron hoes which found their way down from the north-west, and
had a fixed marketable value. But the use of these implements is
doubtless of a comparatively recent date, as nearly all the natives in
that part use wooden hoes lashed on to the bent handles with tie-tie.
In the country mentioned, all trade was and is still done by a system
of barter and exchange. The Umbaji people exchanging salt and _house
rats_ (which form an article of diet for the Bassankwala people, who
are cannibals) for palm oil and yams. The Bassankwala people admitted
to the author that they ate human beings, and had always done so, but
they asserted vehemently that they did not eat their own dead--these
they passed on to the next town, who sent them theirs in exchange.
Prisoners taken in fighting or people killed were also eaten, and,
from what the adjoining countries told the author, natives straying
into their bush were similarly treated. These people, however, all
promised, and were apparently perfectly sincere, at once to stop this
abominable practice, at the same time saying that they were unaware
they had been doing wrong, as they had never heard the white man’s laws
before.
It is perhaps noteworthy that these people, who are pure cannibals, all
file their teeth to a sharp point.
With reference to the eating of rats, it may be remarked that all the
natives in the Ikom district eat the bush rat, which is quite different
from the house or domestic species, but the Bassankwala people are the
only natives the author has met who eat the “common or garden” house
rat. The large fruit-eating bats, about which so many native stories
are told, are looked upon as a great delicacy, and at Insofan on the
Cross River, there is quite a trade done in them, one bat selling for
one rod or sixpence in English money. In the evening, just before it
gets dark, you can frequently see thousands of these bats flying off,
high up in the air, to their favourite feeding places. The way they
are obtained for food is simple and may be worth mentioning. On the
bank opposite to Insofan there are some very tall trees covered with
creepers, in which many thousands of these bats sleep during the day. A
few hunters go out with their long Dane guns and station themselves one
under each tree. Then when one man has found a thick cluster of bats,
he fires into them, and with luck brings down a few. (The author has
killed seven at one shot, with number 6 from a full choke 12-bore, at
the particular request of a chief who wanted them for food.)
Immediately the bats hear the gun fired, they desert the trees they
are sheltering in, and commence circling around in the air, flying
about in a most aimless and erratic sort of way, until, after about ten
minutes, they settle on a different tree. Then another hunter fires,
and so the game goes on. In connection with these creatures, it is
curious to notice the agitation amongst the birds, should one happen
to be disturbed in the day time. The same applies to the large eagle
owls, who are invariably chased by the smaller birds, whenever they
appear while the sun is up, but it is seldom the owl comes out in the
day time, and then he takes shelter in some thick covert as soon as
possible.