HAUSA, CURRENCY, CAMELS, TRAVELLING
At Kano I picked up two more natives to accompany me on my
journey, a Hausa youth named Mona and a half-caste named Outa,
while the interviews with applicants were not without amusement,
since conversation was carried on in my somewhat amateur Hausa,
with John privileged to look on, and give his comical but shrewd
opinion of the character of his probable fellow-travellers—and he
had his strong likes and dislikes, though he judged his subjects
solely by eye, for he could not speak Hausa, as is the case with
many natives of other tribes, and in particular with coast boys.
Languages are very numerous in Africa, and to know them all would be
a great task, but every European on the West Coast knows and makes
use of the amusing native _patois_ termed “Pigeon English,” which
is the crude English that natives learn to speak who come much in
contact with white men. And when one begins to form sentences in
Hausa, and troubles to translate them literally into English, it
is amusing what peculiar phrasing is arrived at, and how similar
it is to the _patois_ of the natives. Thus here are some literal
translations of some of the Hausa sentences I used:
_Interrogating native hunter._
“You, you make king of hunting in your town?”
“I make journey, I reach Aïr, after so I return within Kano when
my work I finish. You agree you come far together with me?”
“Money how much you wish you do work with me moon one one?”
“You agree you do month ten (with me)?”
_Consulting a chief for information of local hunting-ground
and local hunter._
“I want I may collect birds and animals of bush.”
“I want I may flay them and I look inside of them.”
“I wizard am. I carry them and I show them to white men wizards
in land (of) Europe.”
“Not I wish I make journey quick because I want I catch them
all.”
“I want I may make hunting where grass it makes tall.”
“I want I may make hunting where rivers they make many: a place
of lake and marsh.”
“You are able you give me a hunter, he come along with me: he
point out to me a bush good?”
_Translation of Hausa speech to natives when camping and
hunting._
“We shall alight here.”
“Perhaps we sit here days ten and four.”
(Or in opposite case): “We shall sit here little little, not we
shall delay place this. I will go I make hunting at (this) night.
You it is necessary you sit; you look (my) camp. Do not you sleep.”
“I will take (my) gun, I will go, I will make of hunting now.”
“You bring trap of iron.”
“We will sit here, we will watch in silence.”
“Do not you make (of) moving.”
“Beast that it is with a bad wound, we will follow it.”
The natives secured at Kano completed my personnel for
hunting—Sakari and Mona being available for gun-bearing,
bag-carrying, and skinning, Outa as horse-boy, and John as cook and
caretaker of his master, for he had already attached himself to me
with the sincerity of a faithful servant and was now watchful of my
welfare, especially taking upon himself to warn me when he detected
any “slim” manœuvring over camels or food or gifts by cunning
characters that came about camp or were met on our wayfaring.
Delays always seem to dog the start of a prearranged journey—the
more anxiously planned, the more sure some fateful hitch at the
last moment—and my experience at the “end of the line” in
Nigeria was no exception. At Kano the large quantity of stores of
food and hunting accessories that were to carry me through barren
country for about a year lacked almost all gun and rifle ammunition
and an important crate of apparatus for entomological work; all of
which had missed the steamer at Liverpool; which advice I received
in due course.
However, as the neighbourhood of Kano had been unworked by
collectors, it was not unprofitable to make a beginning there,
while observations alone would give me a good ground work to go on
as I moved further north, for by being familiar with species that
inhabited the Kano region of Northern Nigeria, I could the more
surely detect types peculiar to localities or given latitudes as
I encountered them in the Sudan.
Therefore I did not stay many days in Kano while waiting the arrival
of the lost supplies, and with the aid of native carriers moved out
with all my baggage to camp about six miles north of the town near
to a small village named Farniso.
My experiences there need not be unduly dwelt on. The country-side
was for the most part thickly populated and well cultivated, and
collecting was not of an exciting order. There were no antelope in
the neighbourhood, and jackals and foxes were the largest animals I
collected. Jackals were very plentiful, and I have seen their dens
even in the walls of Kano.
Reports reached me that there were a few lions in low-lying
country on the Hadeija river, where it passes through N’gourou,
and also that there was some good big-game country east of Kano
towards Maidugari (nearing Lake Chad territory), and I have no doubt
but that such reports were true, although I had no opportunity of
hunting in those localities. I judge that the big-game hunter who
journeyed to Kano would not find his hunting there, but would seek
it some days away to the east or the west or the north. I know not
the territory any great distance east and west, but I know something
of it northwards, and anon will explain where game lies _where I
have seen_.
Though collecting in the neighbourhood of Kano was not exciting,
bird life was attractive and abundant, as were small mammals,
and my days were well filled hunting in the early morning or late
afternoon during the hours of feeding and movement of the creatures
of the underbush, who dislike as much as humans do the intense heat
of an overhead sun, and skinning and setting specimens all through
the day, and after dark at night, in camp. During the few weeks I
remained camped near Farniso I collected 207 birds and 83 mammals,
and also a quantity of butterflies and moths.
In due course the lost ammunition arrived and a great anxiety was
lifted from my mind, for new regulations with regard to arms and
ammunition being exported from England were so complicated at the
time, that long delay, or even loss of authorisation was possible
if not probable; and I would have been in a nice predicament and
completely crippled without this item, which was so indispensable
to me on my journey. I assure you I could have shouted with sheer
joy when I saw the small weighty business-like boxes coming into
camp on the heads of carriers that were groaning under their loads.
The arrival of ammunition stores left me free to begin the camel
journey northward over the boundary into French territory, though
I was still short of the crate of entomological apparatus— which
did not reach me till more than a month later, forwarded by courtesy
of the French officials.
In departing from Kano I would say good-bye to the last post that
boasted of civilisation and pass “out of the world,” for there
are surely few places on the face of the earth more remote and
God-forsaken than the interior Sahara of Central Africa—as in due
course I was to learn; though in this I was to some extent prepared
by study of bare incomplete maps, and in finding how difficult
it was to glean any information of the country in England before
sailing. But I was not prepared to find how little was known of
the country at Kano, where I had calculated I would probably learn
much about my journey ahead, whereas, in fact, I gained practically
no information from the few white men there, and very little from
natives, who were much given to reticence with strangers, or,
if free-spoken, to wild exaggerations. I did not meet a single
Englishman or Scot in Kano who had been across the boundary into
French territory as far as Zinder, which is a ten days’ camel
journey north, and it is strange but really true that almost as
little is known of the Territoire du Niger in Nigeria as in England,
though the two former are next-door neighbours. But so far as
travelling to Zinder is concerned, apart from Zinder being in French
Territory, it can be readily understood why British Europeans do not
make the journey from Kano if one can realise the desolation of the
country and the exhausting heat of the African sun, which makes such
a trip, merely for the sake of sight-seeing, altogether uninviting.
By reason of preparing to enter this land that knew the sadness and
solitude of “the lone places” rather than even the rudiments
of civilisation and commerce, I had perforce to carry all stores
necessary to life; and I must carry money also—not a little, but a
quantity sufficient to last me over a protracted period. Therefore,
my last act on the eve of departing was to ride into Kano to draw
money from the bank. And through the kindness of the manager of
the Bank of British West Africa, who rightly viewed my task in
the light of one of national importance and not one of trade,
I was enabled to have the large quantity I required issued to me
in silver; which was a generous concession on his part, and of
the utmost value to me, for silver was at that time at a premium,
and one could purchase at least 25 per cent. more with coin than
with paper-money, which found ill-favour with the natives.
There are two reasons why notes, which, at the time of my visit to
West Africa, were causing much inconvenience and concern to traders
in Nigeria and to the military officials in the French colony,
are disliked. In the first place, many of the natives are unable
to read the value printed on paper-money, both the actual figures
and the wording being in English, so that when it is tendered
in purchase, they are sometimes doubtful of the value they are
receiving; whereas with coin they can easily judge the different
values by the variety of size. Secondly, it is the habit of the
natives to conceal their wealth in a secret hole in the walls of
their huts or in the ground, and paper-money is not adapted for such
a purpose, since it is not impervious to damp in the rainy season,
nor the ravages of white ants or mice at all times. Furthermore,
the “brown paper” shilling currency is a poor affair at best,
and not durable to the large amount of outdoor handling which
money receives at the hands of the natives, and whenever a note
becomes torn, it is looked upon as valueless among themselves,
and quickly reaches the white man’s store, where it is known it
will be accepted and taken off their hands.
So, with knowledge of the drawbacks of paper, I gleefully returned
to camp with my supply of silver, and that night secreted the
major portion of the coin in various ammunition boxes in the hope
that it would in that way escape detection and plunder on my long
journey. Silver in quantity is very heavy to transport, but that
was fully compensated for—for had it not the power to put one on
good terms at once in all dealings necessary with natives? Further,
I found it unnecessary to make exchange to French coin once I had
crossed the Frontier, since the English shilling and two-shilling
piece were acceptable everywhere.
I secured ten camels for my journey to Zinder, and not, in a limited
time, since it was ground-nut season, when transport animals are
in great demand, being able to obtain the full number required to
transport my loads, which weighed close on 4,000 lbs., I had to
fall back on oxen to complete the complement, taking four of the
latter to carry loads equivalent to that which two camels could
carry. Camels can load 300 to 400 lbs.
The camels of Hausaland and the Territoire Militaire du Niger
are the one-humped race that are named “Rakumi” in Hausa and
“Alum” in Tamāshack, and they are the outstanding transport
animals of the country. Indeed, without camels it is difficult
to see how the inhabitants of the interior Sahara could subsist,
for they are, in essentials, the only animals truly adapted to
long journeys in barren land, where water and food are often very
scarce. The distance they can travel with 300 to 400 lbs. loaded
on their backs, and their uncomplaining endurance is altogether
marvellous, and it would be a man of poor appreciation indeed who
knew their habits and had not praise for them.
Donkeys and oxen are two other animals of transport which are
used on routes that are not too severe, and donkeys in their
patience and endurance have some of the commendable traits of
camels, and are capable of accomplishing long journeys if not too
heavily loaded—100 to 150 lbs. is a fair load—though they are
slower in getting over the ground. Oxen, on the other hand, are of
secondary value as transport animals, and are seldom satisfactory
on a journey of any length, for they do not harden well to their
work, and often break down tamely under a prolonged burden. This
is because the heat of day is very trying on them when _en route_,
while it has little effect on either camels or donkeys.
As Aïr, and the section of the Territoire Militaire through which
my journey led me is the home of the camel, and since I travelled
hundreds of miles with those fine animals, perhaps a few remarks
concerning them would not be out of place.
The market-price of camels in 1920 at Kano and Agades was about
£8 for a young beast 4 years old, and about £15 for a full-grown
animal 9 to 15 years old. Those prices, even though they have
risen considerably since the war, like everything else even in such
remote parts, must appear small if it is taken into consideration
that camels require to be nourished and reared for 8 to 10 years
before they have reached maturity and are really fit to join the
caravans and bring recompense to the owner. On one occasion I saw a
young camel of 4 years, small and still with a semi-calf look about
it, being ridden by a Tuareg who was a lightweight; but to break a
camel at that age is quite exceptional, if not foolish, for in all
probability this early labour, before bones are hardened and muscles
full and set, spoils the ultimate development of the animal. Some
camels are considered developed enough for short journeys when
6 years old, though they are seldom fully matured until 8, 9, or
10 years, while they reach their prime about the age of 15 years;
afterwards they begin to lose a little ground, but are often quite
useful and strong up to and over 20 years. At an age of 30 years
a camel may be said to be altogether beyond work.
In colour there is considerable range among camels, the most
common variety in this territory being light buffish-brown, somewhat
resembling sand, while piebald and brindled camels are also numerous,
the latter having random patches of white on a surface that is
chiefly dull lead-like blackish-grey. Those piebald and brindled
beasts are reputed to be an Aïr race, but how far that is true I
had no opportunity of proving, though I can vouch for having seen
among the Aïr mountains more camel-calves of that colour than any
other. Moreover, it is a splendid protective colour against the
mountain background of blackish rock and pools of sand, so that the
claim has at least that in its favour. A colour that is not very
common among camels is pure white, while one that is quite rare
is rich tawny reddish buff. I have seen a score of animals of the
former colour, but only two of the latter.
[Illustration: A HAUSA NATIVE RIDING AN OX, KANO]
[Illustration: CATTLE OF HAUSALAND.]
In selecting camels to make up a caravan, it is problematical whether
you get good-tempered or bad-tempered beasts, and one should be
optimistic enough to accept the bad with the good and put up with
the annoyance of saddling and loading cantankerous individuals,
for there is no caravan was ever without them. But if you wish to
use a camel for hunting—and they are exceedingly good for the
purpose, being very noiseless of foot—great care in selection
should be exercised, and only a tried animal should be used which
is good-tempered and taught that it must not roar as you dismount
to commence your stalk on sighting game. The awkward and somewhat
wooden appearance of camels does not lead one to associate much
intelligence with them, but to think so is a mistake, and if one
desires to have a really good hunting camel, I know of no better
method to secure it than to select a good-natured beast from the
rank and file, and hand-feed it with tit-bits of vegetation, and
pet it when mounting and dismounting, and let no one else saddle it
or ride it, and before long you will be astonished to find that you
have won a queer pet and a useful and obedient comrade. It will have
been gathered that it is the noisiness of the brutes that has to be
guarded against when hunting, and that is so, for they are fearful
beasts to roar on the slightest provocation. Besides being timid
animals, they are very tender skinned, and almost all of them emit
a loud complaining roar whenever they are touched by a human hand
or there is the slightest movement in the position of the saddle in
mounting or dismounting; while if an animal happens to be suffering
with horrible septic saddle-sores, such as are very common, it is
sure to make a terrifying uproar whenever approached.
When travelling with a caravan, it is usual to commence to load
up before daylight and get well started on the way before sunrise,
which is about 6.30 a.m., or—especially if there be a moon—to
make a start at 2 or 3 a.m. in the night, and travel the greater
part of the day’s journey free from the rays of the exhausting
sun. On such occasions the camels are gathered in at sundown on the
eve before from browsing among the acacias, and made to lie down
by the camp-fire, so that they are at hand when the camel-men go
to work in the darkness. Then, when the hour to start comes round,
logs that have been collected the night before are kindled to make a
blazing fire, and by the light of the flames the loads are securely
roped and loaded across the pack-saddles, so that equally balanced
packs rest on either side, while throughout the process the black
bush silence of the night is rudely broken by the deep querulous
roars of the camels in protest against being handled. Loading up in
the poor light of night is a slow process, and in my case three or
four men usually took from an hour to an hour and a half to load
ten to fifteen camels. But the secret of a smooth journey is to
begin the day with loads thoroughly secure and well balanced so
that they will not annoy the bearer; and with bulky loads, such
as the chop-boxes and collecting-cases of the white man, which
are unfamiliar and clumsy both to the natives and their beasts,
it requires considerable care in loading to be reasonably sure of a
well-ordered start. When things do not go well, it is a mistake for
the traveller to become impatient and abuse or hurry the camel-men
in the early morning, when tempers are apt to be short, for although
they are undoubtedly slow in their methods, they know their work
and their animals, and will make the better loads if left alone,
and you merely lend a hand here and there, and joke with them
over their work, and thus gain their good-will and confidence. As
to the type of saddle, a serviceable and simple saddle is made of
wood in this fashion: first there are two arch-shaped pieces which
are made to fit over the back of the animal, and which rest before
and behind the hump, while underneath them are bound leather pads
filled with palm fibre, so that the saddle is comfortably received on
the camel’s back; secondly, from the back and front pieces there
are run four horizontal bars, which are bound in position to the
arches with goat-skin or sheep-skin thongs, whereby the saddle is
made rigid and complete. It is a very simple piece of construction,
but serves the purpose.
Sometimes no saddle is used when carrying good loads, such as bales
of grain or salt, which naturally lie very close and compactly to
the body of an animal, in which event two long goat-skins are used,
puffed out like pillows with filling, which are thrown over the
back on either side of the hump, and receive the burdened load
ropes which carry the bales in position on the sides.
When loading camels on the first day at the commencement of a
journey, or after having been idle for a week or two turned loose
in the bush, they are afraid of their unfamiliar loads, and behave
like bolting horses or wild colts, and saddles and packs are no
sooner secured, and the brutes on to their feet, than they show
their ill-humour and everything is thrown to the ground again.
Once, twice, even thrice this may happen with three or four camels
in the caravan, while it seems as if you will never be able to get
out and away on the road. But in the end all are ready and in line
and a start is made. But on that day you are sure of trouble _en
route_ with the fractious animals, and not until the morrow need
you expect anything like reasonable order, when you will almost
surely find that even the worst of the brutes has become docile
and resigned to steady work.
I did not miss any of my share of this sort of experience when the
day came for me to set out from Kano—I don’t think anyone does.
Camels and their Tuareg drivers were in my camp at Farniso ready
to start on the morrow (12th January). That evening trouble began:
the camel-men, not having finished their private bargaining in Kano
and seeking an excuse to delay, had put their heads together, with
the result that they concocted a story that they had not enough rope
to cope with the tying of the awkward loads of the white man—which
was true, in fact, though anyone might know that it was not necessary
to go to Kano to secure them with a village close at hand. However,
knowing their homes were distant, and that it might be long before
they had again occasion to visit Kano, I gave permission for one of
them to go back, provided he would start there that night when the
moon rose at 11.30 p.m., which he promised to do. Being easy-going
and trusting at that time, which was before I had much knowledge
of the plausible and sly-tongued Tuareg, I turned in and slept
soundly—_and so did the cameleer_, for next morning I learned
that he had not started for Kano until daylight. This meant that
the whole morning was lost—not very pleasant when tents are down
and everything you possess is bundled up and roped in camel-loads,
and there is nothing left to do but sit on them and smoke innumerable
cigarettes and inwardly curse your camel-men and your luck.
The camels were, in the meantime, turned at large to feed in the
neighbourhood with their fore-feet hobbled, which was as it should
be; and all was right until the man returned from Kano with more
ropes _and his purchases of cloth_, and a cameleer hastened out to
bring in the animals, but returned in about an hour to say that he
could not find two of the camels.
At this stage everything seemed fated to go wrong on this day.
But there is a rift in the clouds even on the worst of days, and in
the end the lost camels appeared in view, coming in at a breakneck
pace before a mounted camel-man who had skilfully tracked them down
in the sand for a long distance and rounded them up. The brutes,
though their fore-feet were hobbled, had tried to return to their
old haunts in Kano.
It was after 3 p.m. before we got loaded and away on this ill-fated
day.
I had arranged before starting that we would camp at Fogalawa,
18 miles away, and it was well I did so, for, after starting out
together on the road, I did not see the main part of the caravan
again until midnight, since I remained throughout the journey
with the tail-end of the line, where an obstreperous and unruly
old female camel made the devil’s own trouble, and threw her
load again and again with most vicious determination. The climax
came close on sunset, when the camel-man and I were overheated and
dust-grimed and angry over our exertions, and the cantankerous brute
cut loose once again, and threw and shattered the chop-boxes and
strewed the contents on the road. While bemoaning my ill-luck, and
letting tongue run loose on the virtues (?) of our beast of burden,
and at a loss to know what to do next, a native chanced to come up
with some unloaded camels, and I was able to strike a bargain for
a beast to take the place of the unruly one.
Thereafter the journey was a smooth one, but, nevertheless, I had
lost so much time on the way that it was midnight before I came into
camp behind the last camel, and had been nine hours on a journey
that should ordinarily take five and a half to six and a half hours.
So much for the discrepancies of the “first day”; and now I must
return to our starting-point, so that I may tell of the wayside.
During the afternoon and through the night in the darkness we
travelled over a broad roadway of loose shifting sand that held
north through fairly open country that was, in general, under
cultivation. Trees were plentiful, growing for the most part singly
and not in close-set mass, but they do not impress one with height
or stature at this season, though in the Rains the full-leaved
trees of any size are imposing and conspicuous enough in most of
the flat country between Kano and Kanya. No doubt the whole country
has been covered with acacia bush at one time, with an odd large
tree shooting above the dwarf forests here and there, and though
the acacia bush has been cleared away to give place to cultivation,
the big trees have been left standing, since to the toilers in the
fields they are harbours of shade from the merciless sun.
Along the road a constant incoming string of caravans of camels and
donkeys and oxen passed us, carrying bulging bales of ground-nuts
to Kano, for the ground-nut season had begun, and unprecedented
prices were being paid for them by the white man, which had created a
widespread boom in the district and a tremendous wave of speculative
excitement. It was a great year— 1920—of prosperity for the
natives of Kano, this last fling of commercial extravagance at the
end of the war—a rich year that, in the end, must have left its
mark, for one could easily forecast the time to come, when there
would be acute comparisons between the heyday of the boom and that
other day when the boom must burst, and hearts be sore—for it is
hard even for a native to come back to the solid old ground-level
after he thinks he has reached a golden citadel in the clouds.
Next morning we continued on our way without any repetition of
trouble with the animals, and the old camel, that had stubbornly
refused to carry the white man’s boxes yesterday, to-day carried
with ease a greater load of ammunition packed in native grass-woven
bales. The brute had been nothing more than wildly scared of the
strange articles that it had been set to carry.
The road continued broad to-day, but grew ever heavier underfoot
with loose sand. By the wayside there was not so much cultivation as
yesterday, and few habitations, except at Kore and Minna. We camped
in mid-afternoon at the small village of Kanya after a pleasantly
smooth journey. It was gratifying, after our trials of yesterday,
to see how nicely the camels of a well-ordered caravan move forward
over the ground with their soft-footed methodical gait; they get
over the heavy sand road not only with their long pacing stride,
in which both legs on the same side are lifted together, but also
they move with a strange stealthy silence, which is due to the
rubber-like give of their soft elastic pads. A further odd and
striking detail about the feet of a camel is that, unlike other
animals, the fore-feet are larger than the hind-feet.
Travelling by the wayside in inhabited country, if you happen
to be near human dwellings, cockcrows will herald in the African
dawn from some village hut-top obscure among the bush foliage, and
on the third day we were busy with the load-ropes in the chill of
late darkness ere the first glad cock-call told of approaching day.
Already we had learned that it was wise to travel in the cool hours
as far as possible and save our animals from the great heat of day,
so long as short nights and loss of sleep were not over-fatiguing
to ourselves, or, rather, perhaps I should say to myself alone,
for natives have the knack of sleeping in daylight just as easily
as in darkness, and throw themselves down in any little patch of
tree-shade at the end of a journey and retrieve their night-sleep
almost before it is lost: while that I could never do, even if I
had not work to attend to.
But there was one native with me who worked long hours without sleep
much as I did, and he was the faithful John. On his broad shoulders
rested all the petty duties of attending to his master’s welfare
in camp: a host of small duties indeed, such as cooking meals at any
hour— early or late, at noon or midnight; pitching or striking my
camp-bed (for I slept in the open); or doing the services of a valet
in looking after all my personal belongings, and my toilet, even
washing clothes when he had the time to spare—in general, cookboy
and houseboy all in one, and a treasure. Moreover, he afforded
amusement all round through the medium of his perpetual cheerfulness
and expansive grin. Often I have laughed to see him, after the rush
of getting ready to start, when he had got the last bundle turned
over to the camel-men and his master’s camp clear, come saucily
forward in his cloth cap and with his cane walking-stick—both
relics of the coast which were inseparable from his person— and
with a perceptible swagger over his “English” (?) and his
importance as the master’s boy, grin broadly and ejaculate to
the head camel-man: “Come on, come on, Aboki (friend), we wait
for you!” which assurance always provoked laughter among the men,
while Sakari explained to them in Hausa John’s “English” (?),
and added to it in the telling.
The Harmattan winds had been very pronounced since starting, and
the third day was as bad as its predecessors. So full of sand-dust
was the air, that a white cloud hung over the land through which
the sun was unable to break clearly. The mane of my horse was white
with dust, and, looking on the acacia trees a little way off in the
bush, they had the appearance they would bear on a frosty morning,
with the fine dust, like white mist, hanging low and falling upon
them to lie whitely upon the leaves and boughs.
I noticed at Kanya, and beyond, that the peculiar reddish sand and
soil of Kano had given place to ordinary whitish-grey.
On this day we travelled to Jigawa, 18 miles away, on the banks of
the Tomas river, which, though it was nothing more than dry bed
at this season, is a very considerable stream during the Rains,
quite one hundred yards across the floodwater. The place is a small
town, with the remains of a stockade about its outskirts, and it
contained wells of water and the usual village produce of eggs,
fowls, and millet-meal, as well as goats and cattle. It may be
stated here that there is no scarcity of water or food experienced
anywhere on the journey from Kano to Zinder.
I heard at this village the first news of big game that I had had,
and in the cool of the afternoon I went out westward to investigate,
and the result of a prolonged hunt through fairly open thorn bush was
that I sighted, and viewed through field-glasses, four Red-fronted
Gazelle, which the local natives with me said were in fair numbers
in the neighbourhood. The beasts, at which I fired one ineffectual
shot, were very wild, and gave me the impression that they were
disturbed often by the natives who hunt them.
The fourth day was a pleasant one, for it entailed only a short
ten-mile journey; and I can assure you that a short day after two
or three long, hot, and exhausting ones is a very agreeable change.
We camped at noon at Barbara, our day’s task finished; and the
camels were hobbled and turned out into the scrub bush to enjoy a
lengthy repast. Barbara is a large town that lies five miles on the
British side of the frontier, and here it was that I bid good-bye
to Nigeria for a time. Hence I made it a stopping-place, and an easy
day. (I did the same thing many months later, on my return, and was
royally received by the Saraki (native king) and his people-a large
number of whom were Fulani—who _en masse_ spent the day in holiday
and dance because the White Man had safely returned and was glad.)
On the morrow we crossed the boundary and entered French territory,
having crossed the line about an hour after starting where it lay
between the two small villages of Baban Mutum (British) and Dashi
(French); places, like many others, that were not shown on either
of the incomplete maps I possessed, which were the best I could
procure in England.
In the afternoon we halted and camped at Magaria, where there is
a small French fort commanded by a European officer, with native
troops under him. Here I was most cordially welcomed to French soil,
and enjoyed the frank, unfettered hospitality that for ever is to
be found with the big-hearted men of the Lone Places. Though I was
not yet more than eighty-five miles from Kano, a European visitor
was rare to the board of this solitary soldier, and so I was made
doubly welcome over our cups of good comradeship, though neither
could glibly speak the other’s tongue, and conversation was carried
on for the most part in halting words of Hausa. He was a jovial good
fellow, beside being the kindest of hosts, and ere the day was out I
think we put the sober mud walls of his little cabin to shame with
our gladness and laughter. That he was a lone man could be gleaned
from his surroundings and his tastes. For companions about his abode
he had a cage full of little waxbills, a grey parrot, two pie-dogs,
two cats, and four Dorcas Gazelles— all bird and beast of the
country-side, except the two cats, which were Persian. The barrack
square and the garden of the Fort afforded him further pleasures in
homely hobbies: in the square, young trees had been lately planted
to form an entrance avenue and give shade, and to watch them take
root and thrive was this man’s way with his treasures. And in
the garden among the shrubs and vegetables his interest was the
same to coax plants that were not indigenous to grow in the sandy,
thirsty soil; and that he had some success I can vouch for, for
there were beds of such vegetables as carrots, radish, beetroot,
peas, and cabbage growing quite fairly at the time of my visit.
As I progressed later on, I found such humble gardens wherever
white men were stationed: only a few places in all, it is true,
but always a garden to furnish the need for vegetables, which is
a pressing one to the health of Europeans in such a barren land
as this, for rarely vegetables and no fruit can be obtained from
natives. Apropos to this, entering a country of tropical heat,
I was not prepared to find that it was devoid of fruit (excepting
a limited amount of dates in the rainy season), and the discovery
disappointed and dismayed me, I must confess, for it left me on
short commons in that respect throughout the expedition. And when
one lives for a prolonged period on the unchanging diet of animals
that fall to your hunting, the hunger for fruit or vegetable grows
ever greater, and is, at times, very difficult to allay.
The sixth day found us on the road at dawn, with Nigeria behind and
the caravan well started on the way to Bande, our next halt. On this
day and the next, over a belt of about twenty-five miles, country
of marked change was passed through, and one got the impression
that it was now turning more to desert. Dum palms, in small groups
or solitary, sceptral with their tall graceful stems and tufted
rustling tops, were now in the landscape, while there was a new
sense of open space about one, such as is felt on sea or prairie,
which was brought about by the wide views of grass-grown land before
one where eye could range for long distances.
With the regularity of routine we were marching off the distance
on the map, and each day we camped a stage further on—and a day
nearer to Zinder. On the seventh day we made the journey from Bande
to Makochia, over a very heavy road of loose sand; on the eighth we
camped at Dogo— ever the cruel sand-drifting winds of Harmattan
in our faces, while ever we held steadily on, for after camels are
loaded at the dawning of day, never halt is made by the roadside
until the journey’s end is reached and the patient brutes lie
down and are relieved of their burdens.
The day of our journey to Dogo was one of particularly fierce storm,
and we went forward against a very heavy wind and enveloped in
continuous clouds of drifting sand: and, besides, it was so cold
that I had to keep on my woollen sweater and khaki tunic throughout
the day, although hitherto I had not on any day worn a tunic, and
as a rule discarded my sweater an hour or two after the chill of
dawn. At Dogo I was forcibly reminded of a snowstorm on the Canadian
plains; before the village there is a wide white level stretch
of sand almost plant-bare, over which winds and driftings rushed
fiercely from afar to pounce madly upon whatever lay across their
path. Not snowstorm nor piercing cold are elements of this land,
but imagine the soft sand underfoot, like snow, the drifting sand,
the snow blizzard, and the sting of the storm in eyes and nostrils
and throat as unpleasant as the tang of biting cold, and you have
the comparisons that have a very decided resemblance.
The road to Dogo lay over undulating country, pale with dry grass
and sand, with a touch of faded green where there were trees in the
open spaces. It should be a fair country to look upon in the Rains,
but it is for the present inert, and discoloured with the drifting
sand, and is a melancholy land indeed.
The country by the wayside had for a time a pronounced fall away
to a deep valley visible to the west.
The altitude of Dogo is 1,375 ft., so that we had descended some
300 ft. since leaving Kano.
Dogo is the Hausa for _tall_, but I could gather no particular
reason for the name. Had it been called Gara (the white ant),
however, I would have well understood, for I have seldom seen an
equal to the plague of termites that was here: boots, leggings,
articles hung to the wall, every box among the camel-loads, was
attacked by the infernal pests as soon as ever we camped and before
we had time to prepare rough timber platforms to raise everything
off the ground. White ants have to be guarded against everywhere
in the Sudan, but I never saw them worse than at Dogo.
Next day, which was the ninth day of our journey, we reached Baban
Tubki, six miles south of Zinder, where there were a few small date
groves and plentiful well-water, and more luxuriant vegetation than
usual. So that I decided that here I would pitch a collecting camp,
and with that purpose in view swung the caravan west of the road,
and sought a camping-place among the scattered trees and tall grass
about a mile away. Camels were unloaded and the packs freed from
their many ropings, and the preparations of camp erection were
begun—and trekking for the present was at an end. . . .
In the part of the territory of Damagarim through which I had
travelled since crossing the frontier there was no great change from
that of Nigeria. It was certainly less populated, but the Hausa,
Fulani, and Beri-Beri tribesmen were the same, as also was the
construction of their grass huts and villages, though some of the
latter were somewhat dilapidated and had the aspect of belonging
to a poorer or more careless class of natives.
So far as I could tell by daily short excursions into the bush off
the road, none of the country I had passed through was notable for
big-game; but if I was to hunt in that particular territory, I would
start at Jigawa (fifty-six miles north from Kano), and work north
as far as Makochia, about fifty miles further on. I know there are
Red-fronted and Dorcas Gazelles in that belt, but that is as far
as my limited knowledge goes for the present.
By the wayside, each day, I had made notes of every living thing
I had seen—bird or beast or butterfly. Now it was my task to
set to work and preserve a representative collection of the fauna
of Damagarim, and forge one link in the chain of the zoological
geography of the country, of which up to the present nothing
was known.