Samory and the Sofas — The Sofa wars — Desertion of my “boy”
— Kouroussa and Kankan — Native horses — An inhospitable
reception — Kankan — Trade at Kankan — The rubber vine —
Native telegraphy — Personal adornment.
MENTION has several times been made of King Samory and his
Sofas. Kouroussa was for some time the centre of his plundering
operations; it will therefore be advisable to give some account of
this enlightened chief’s history before describing his doings in
that country.
Samory came from the neighbourhood of Bobodjilassu, an important
town between the north of the “Gold Coast Northern Territories”
and the Niger. He was a Mohammedan, and became a very influential
chief on account of his strong personality.
He collected an army of between 30,000 and 40,000 men, and ravaged
practically the whole of what is the colony of French Guinea, as well
as a portion of the French Soudan and Sierra Leone Protectorate. His
troops were first composed of Mandingoes from the Middle Niger,
but gradually as he advanced he absorbed large numbers of other
tribes whom he had subjugated, and the whole army was designated by
the name of Sofas. For fifteen years he spread terror throughout
the land, on several occasions even inflicting severe reverses on
the French troops he encountered. He was finally captured by the
French in 1897, and died in captivity three years later. His army
was too large to be concentrated for any time, so had to disperse
to obtain supplies. This resulted in wholesale plunder and wanton
devastation of the land. The natives hated the Sofas, who pillaged
their homes and carried off their wives without any mercy.
Large districts were depopulated by their ravages; indeed, to this
day the ruins of villages, which were abandoned during the Sofa
wars, are frequently seen in the bush. It is only during the last
few years that this part of West Africa has begun to settle down
peacefully after the long period of plunder and wholesale murder
which existed during the reign of King Samory.
A further cause of this prolonged warfare at this time was that when
the Sofa lieutenants were not employing their soldiers on behalf
of Samory, they were in the habit of letting their services out to
anybody who was willing to pay for them. This system naturally led
to a number of local small wars, thus further aggravating the harm
done by Samory and his followers.
This chief was certainly the biggest native general ever encountered
by European troops in West Africa. Many of his soldiers afterwards
enlisted in British and French colonial corps, and proved themselves
excellent fighting material.
In Kouroussa market-place there is a large baobab tree, under
which Samory used to hold court. Here he used to try his prisoners,
and here they used to be executed. That tree must have seen some
horrible sights in its day. What tales it could tell of murder and
injustice committed under its shady boughs! Baobab trees are common
in these parts; nearly every village possesses one, and it is under
these spreading branches that the chief and his followers are wont
to sit and gossip during the heat of the day.
One of my carriers about this time was an oldish man, who had
been a young warrior in Samory’s army. He used to relate some
blood-curdling stories over the camp fire at night of the atrocities
committed by that chief. The carrier had himself, it appeared,
been a participator in some cruel acts. On one occasion he was
sent with a party to exact tribute from a refractory town, with
orders to inform the people they would be plundered and their town
burnt unless they complied. He described with a great show of pride
how he first extorted twice the required sum, and then proceeded
to massacre the unfortunate, helpless inhabitants. Little wonder
that Samory’s soldiery was feared and mistrusted in those days
of plunder and bloodshed.
On the morning of the 31st I had given my “boy” particular
orders to call me early, in order to start on my way to Kankan.
About five o’clock I woke, and could see no signs of my servant.
This surprised me, as he was usually very punctual. I called,
but receiving no reply, went out to investigate the cause of his
non-appearance. On entering the kitchen it became evident that he had
run away, for all his personal property had been removed. I never
saw him again, and can only conclude that he had found the journey
rather harder work than he had bargained for, and had decided to
return to his native land before it was too late.
This incident was extremely annoying just as I was about to start for
my shooting-ground, and I was much afraid it would be impossible to
get a “boy” suited to my requirements in the place. Fortune,
however, favoured me, and the District Commissioner assured me he
would be able to procure a cook who could speak French and Bambara
in a few hours. I decided to march off, on the understanding that
the “boy” would follow and meet me that evening in camp. True
to his promises, the Commissioner sent me the servant, who remained
with me until I reached Timbuctu. His name was Mamadu; he had many
faults and was hardly the sort of “boy” I should have chosen,
but I was lucky to get one at all, and after all he possessed one
or two good qualities, and could bake bread better than any native
servant I had yet had.
Mamadu’s chief fault was his irrepressible tongue. I made many
efforts, both by gentle and strong means, to curb this bad habit
while he was with me, but have to acknowledge complete failure.
Incessant chatter is a failing of most negro tribes, but I never
met such an inveterate talker as Mamadu before, nor am I likely
to do so again. At night he would be talking when one wanted to go
to sleep, and in the early morning I was generally wakened by his
unceasing chatter. When he slept and what he had to talk about were
two problems I never succeeded in solving.
At Kouroussa the Niger is about 250 yards wide, and here there is a
canoe ferry to the point on the opposite shore where the Kankan road
commences. As I mentioned before, the Niger is partially navigable
from here to Bamako, a distance of about 200 miles. Navigation is
frequently interrupted by sandbanks, which are fairly common in
this part of the stream. At such places canoes have to be unloaded,
and the contents carried to the other side of the obstruction, where
fresh canoes are in waiting— a somewhat tedious and slow process.
There is a remarkable scarcity of waterfowl on the Niger above
Bamako. I do not recollect seeing a single duck or goose on this
section of the river, although occasionally I saw a few teal. It is
true that the river was rather dry at this time, but I was informed
by French officials that it was very unusual to find duck at any
time of year in the upper reaches of the Niger.
The country between Kouroussa and Kankan consists of rather thick
bush, except for a stretch of more open grass-land between the
Niger and its tributary the Niandan. Rice is rather scarce in
this region. The native lives principally on sweet potatoes and
cassada. The Niandan is a stream of no great size, but with a very
rapid current. It is not too deep to be fordable, but the swiftness
of the current makes it dangerous to try the experiment. It was
here that I first saw horses in any numbers during my journey, so
we were evidently out of the tsetse fly belt, which is so fatal to
these animals. An old chief rode up to the stream as we arrived,
mounted on a horse with gay trappings, and his toes thrust into
the curious, heavy iron stirrups always used in West Africa. The
saddles are made of wood, with a high back, and are extremely
hard, although not otherwise uncomfortable. The wickedest part
of the saddlery is the bit. This is made of rough iron, having a
ring through which the animal’s tongue is thrust, and a cruel
spike so fashioned as to stab the roof of the horse’s mouth
each time the reins are pulled; the inevitable consequence being
that a horse’s mouth is almost always spoilt when he is young,
and is usually in a lacerated condition. Malinkés are good riders,
but atrocious horsemasters. Horses are generally ridden too young,
frequently getting their backs strained from this cause. Animals
here average about thirteen hands or less, and it is seldom that a
good beast is seen, owing to the system of inbreeding which prevails.
The horses in this part of the country are not bred locally, but
are imported from the south of French Soudan. Indeed, I much doubt
if horses are ever bred in French Guinea, or anyhow in the eastern
half of the colony.
The native’s chief delight is to gallop. He will often be seen
careering along at racing speed, for no reason whatever except that
he appears to think that the horse is only born to carry him at the
top of its pace. These people are very fond of horse-races. Here,
too, their one idea is to gallop hard the whole distance. Their
knowledge of the staying powers of their animals seems to be
strangely lacking. The result is that their horses finish at
a snail’s pace and are quite exhausted. Besides, horses are
generally grass-fed, and consequently very soft. In spite of all
the bad treatment he suffers from, the native pony is frequently a
hardy little animal, capable of doing a long day’s work, making
one wonder what he might not be able to do if breeding were carefully
attended to and the animals were well looked after.
I had no difficulty all this time in keeping the larder well
supplied with birds, while an occasional buck brought joy to the
carriers’ hearts. Bush-fowl and guinea fowl were sufficiently
numerous in the farms on the roadside to provide for my wants. The
day of my arrival at Kankan I had started in the morning, as was
my custom, before the carriers, with my shot-gun on my shoulder,
intending to do a little shooting on the way. Having secured all
I wanted, I pressed on to the town, accompanied by one man to
carry the birds. I have no doubt I looked an extremely uncouth
and grimy figure, for I had been walking for some hours, and the
road was hot and dusty. My costume, too, no doubt looked strange,
consisting as it did of khaki shooting-breeches cut short at the
knee and a rough khaki flannel shirt, open at the collar, with the
sleeves rolled up to the elbow. In spite of my curious appearance,
however, I was much amazed to be mistaken for a villain intent on
taking the life of the French Commissioner! Yet such was the case.
On approaching the European quarter I observed a native policeman,
whom I asked to direct me to the Commissioner’s house. This
individual, to my surprise, immediately seized me and attempted
to wrench the gun out of my hand. It was with difficulty that
I restrained my anger in time to prevent myself striking him,
so sudden and unexpected was the onslaught. Fortunately at this
moment the Commissioner, hearing the commotion, came out of his
office, and matters were satisfactorily explained. It appeared
that some time previously a native who bore a grudge against the
Commissioner had attempted to shoot him, hence the policeman had
been on the alert in case of another attempt. My black friend,
in the zeal of performing his duty, had jumped to the conclusion
that I was a would-be assassin, and had lost no time in trying to
deprive me of my gun in consequence. I was much sunburnt at that
time, and it is possible that I looked to his excited imagination
almost as dark as his coloured brethren! That evening I dined with
the official and his wife, and we laughed heartily over the dramatic
nature of my arrival into Kankan.
I was rather surprised to find a French lady so far from the haunts
of civilization, but was informed that there were two more ladies,
the wives of French traders, in the town. The traveller in the bush
cannot but be struck with the refinement brought by a woman’s
presence to a lonely West African station. Colonials necessarily
grow rough in their habits when removed from the gentle influence
of woman’s society. In her presence the roughest of mankind feels
softened, and his better nature seems brought to the front.
Kankan is a large town of 12,000 inhabitants. It owes its importance
to its position in the centre of the rubber-growing district of
Guinea. Moreover, before the appearance of the white man and the
consequent development of the rubber trade, Kankan had for many
years been a large native market. Probably the reason of this is
that it lies on the Milo River, one of the few tributaries on this
bank of the Niger which are navigable to any extent. From Kankan
the French traders are enabled, by using this stream, to send boats
with produce direct either to Bamako or Kouroussa.
There are no less than fourteen French trading firms established
at this place. Their chief business is, of course, done in rubber.
In addition to rubber, a large quantity of ground nuts, rice, millet
and gum copal pass through this large market, while Moors from
the north of the Senegal River, and Fulanis from the Middle Niger,
bring herds of cattle for sale to the town. It is indeed an amusing
sight to wander through the market-place in the morning, when it
is crowded with a cosmopolitan collection of coloured races. People
of every shade of colour will be seen. There is the negro from the
coast, with a face almost as black as coal, jostling against the
reddish-complexioned Fulanis and the pale-coloured Moors, while
men and women of every intermediate hue are also to be seen. The
babel of voices in many different tongues is most remarkable, and
the French traders used to tell me that they require interpreters
in about half a dozen different languages in their stores, for so
varied is the speech of their customers.
At Kankan I saw for the first time those curious bars of salt
transported from the desert salt-mines of the Sahara. They are
brought many hundreds of miles for sale in the interior of Guinea,
where salt is an article of considerable value. These bars weigh
fifty to sixty pounds, and are here sold for as much as thirty
francs. In the district of Kankan nearly every native is employed
collecting rubber in the bush, which he brings to the French
merchants for sale. The rubber vine grows in extraordinary profusion
to the north and east of the district. On the latter side its range
extends into the north of the Ivory Coast Colony. The vine should not
be tapped before it is four years old, when the plant is about as
thick as a man’s wrist. Unless it is cut in a spiral fashion the
plant will be killed. Much harm was done to the rubber trade by the
natives a few years ago by the wasteful manner in which they tapped
the vines. They used to make deep, circular gashes completely round
them, as by this means they were able to get the sap out more easily,
quite heedless of the fact that by so doing they were killing the
plants. Strict legislation has now been introduced to prevent this
wasteful and wanton destruction. When I first saw men tapping rubber
vines I was surprised to notice they invariably rubbed the place
where the incision was made with some dirty-looking liquid. I was
informed that this liquid was lime juice and water, the object being
to cause the rubber to agglomerate as it exuded from the incision.
[Illustration: NATIVE TYPES AT KANKAN
This place is a big rubber market of French Guinea. Rubber commands
a good price, so most of the natives are well-to-do, as may be
judged by their prosperous appearance. The country east of Kankan
is prolific in rubber vines, and the labour entailed in tapping
the vine is very small.]
Rubber is collected in balls, which have a dirty greyish appearance,
and it is in this form that it is sold to the merchants. To
increase the weight of these balls it is a common practice for the
wily natives to mix water with the rubber, or to place mud or some
heavy substance in the interior. These tricks are now becoming well
known to the European trader, who is not often deceived by them,
although, when the ruse was first started, I understand it met with
considerable success. It is probable that a large portion of French
Guinea will be entirely devoted to the rubber trade in the future,
for it is mostly a rather scrubby bush-country eminently suited to
this particular commerce. Owing to the large and increasing demand
for rubber at the present time, Guinea rubber, which is of good
quality, commands a high price in France.
At Kankan I had to change my carriers, and here I arranged to send
all the kit which I did not require on to Bamako, while only taking
a month’s stores, my rifles and camp equipment, on my shooting
trip into Wasulu country. After an interview with one of the French
trading firms, it was settled that my surplus baggage should be
forwarded in their lighters by river to Bamako, where I would find
it on my arrival at that place.
My carriers were now reduced to eight, and with this small party
I set out on the 3rd of February. For the first few miles the
road was the main route to the gold-mining district of Siguiri,
a fine, broad highway which joins Kankan to the town of that name,
a distance of sixty miles. After leaving this road we turned into
a small bush path, striking nearly due east into the heart of
the Wasulu country. At Niansumana the Milo River is crossed. It
is a stream about 100 yards wide, which we found fordable at this
season. That evening I observed a big drum in the chief’s compound,
and thinking it might be of some service to me, I inquired whether
the village would send word of my approach to the town of Falama,
and ask if the hunters I required were ready. The chief readily
acquiesced, stating that within an hour the people of Falama would
have knowledge of the message. Falama was nearly fifty miles from
Niansumana, so that I was anxious to see if the experiment would
really be successful. In less than three hours a reply had come
from the hunters to say they were ready awaiting me.
These drums are much used for signalling in this part of the
country, and without doubt account for the rapidity with which
news becomes known at a considerable distance from the spot where
it originates. The drums are made of a rough piece of log hollowed
out, often as much as four feet long, with the ends covered with
goat’s skin stretched taut. The drummer beats on the end with a
couple of sticks, or with his hands. It is wonderful how skilled
they are about sending quite long messages in this way. Of course,
every native does not understand the drum language. An expert ear
is necessary to send as well as to read a message. When war is
declared the inhabitants of the surrounding villages are all made
aware of the news by a drum message. In fact, when rapidity is an
object, the natives prefer to send their messages this way rather
than by messenger. The drum is in common use in many West African
countries. It is frequently used to call the people together for
a palaver, and can be heard by men working in the most distant
farms, who at once obey the signal, leaving their crops to return
to the town.
We were now getting into a more open country watered by numerous
streams, most of which flowed north-west into the Niger. Villages
were becoming scarcer, and it was evident that the country was more
thinly populated. I was careful at each village I passed to make
inquiries for game, but it appeared that the game country hardly
started before the Sankarani River, which I should cross before
arriving at Falama. Cattle were far more numerous here than I had
yet seen them. The milk was exceedingly rich, and I was always
supplied with a large bowl of it on camping near a village. The
people were mostly cattle-men, and were a fine stalwart race. The
men must average five feet ten inches. The women are considerably
smaller. The latter go in for a great deal of personal adornment.
Their hair is dressed in small ringlets, screwed up tightly to
the side of the head, giving them a decidedly comical appearance,
and hardly enhancing their rather doubtful claims to good looks. The
wealthier women wear a large amount of cheap jewellery. Their fingers
and toes are decorated with silver rings, generally about as thick
as a lady’s bracelet in England. Their necks are freely adorned
with necklaces of large yellow or blue beads. Like most native women,
they are extremely fond of bright-coloured dresses.