Mamadu’s new hat — Tribal marks — Unreliable guides — A
lonely prospector — Bolting carriers — A local chief — More
trouble with carriers — Hunting eland — Sand-flies and mosquitoes
— The headman’s duty — Undesirable presents — Jomongonas
— A magnificent view — Jilingé — Gold — Superstition of
the River Fie — A Niger ferry — An unappreciated delicacy —
Fishing on the Niger.
AT Falama I procured the requisite carriers from the chief. It was
arranged that they should accompany me all the way to the Niger,
should I find any difficulty in replacing them before that river
was reached. I was particularly careful to have this explained to
each individual carrier in the presence of his chief, for I had
had some experience of the difficulty of keeping these men to their
promises already. A favourite trick of this class of gentleman is,
after being most fervent in his protests of wishing for no happier
lot than to accompany you as far as you want to go, suddenly,
and generally at a most awkward moment, to casually cast your
belongings into the bush and run away. One has in such cases nothing
but the grim consolation that he has deprived himself of his pay,
which is but poor satisfaction for the annoyance and inconvenience
he causes you. The chief of Falama was a man of some influence,
being also one of the leading magnates of the Wasulu country. I
therefore hoped that his authority would be sufficient to ensure
their remaining faithful to me.
At Falama Mamadu invested in a new hat. This was a wonderful bit
of head-gear. The hat was made of plaited straw of several bright
colours, among which green and red were most prominent. It was made
with a very wide brim, and the top worked up to a point, in conical
fashion. It certainly had the advantage of protecting him from the
glare of the sun, for it was at least two sizes too big for him,
so that it descended right over his eyes and almost rested on the
bridge of his nose. He was greatly pleased with his new purchase,
bringing it to me to show off with much pride.
Among my new carriers I noticed one with different tribal marks
from the rest. On inquiry I was told he came from the Sanafou
country near the Ivory Coast Colony. His face was beautifully
decorated with four semicircular gashes, each about a quarter of
an inch wide, down both sides. These cuts started on the temple
about on the level of the eyes, and went right down the cheeks
to the mouth, at which point they converged. They certainly gave
him a very remarkable appearance, rather suggestive at a distance
of the black marks put on the face of a clown in a circus. A good
knowledge of tribal marks will often enable one to tell the tribe
of a man at sight. They are not, however, an infallible proof of
the tribe of an individual, for sometimes a boy, when taken into
slavery, will have the marks of his master’s tribe cut upon his
face. Some races do not practise the custom of tribal marks. But it
is generally done in all pagan nations. The Wasulu marks consisted
of two or three very thin cuts made vertically down each cheek,
usually not more than three inches long. The marks were often so
slight as not to be noticeable except at close quarters.
My shortest road was across the Sankarani River, then up the valley
of the Fie, finally crossing the Niger a little south of Kangaba, and
following its left bank to Bamako. A reliable guide was an unknown
article in these parts. The natives of this region are not traders,
consequently they travel little. I had to depend on getting a guide
day by day to lead me through the bush-country which intervened
between me and the Niger; but once on the other side of that stream,
there was said to be an excellent road leading to Bamako.
The first part of the journey lay across hills of laterite rock.
Our track could only by courtesy be dignified by the name of a
path. The country was practically uninhabited, although, as usual
in this district, there were numerous traces of ruined villages,
all testifying to the devastations of Samory.
At one place I saw the remains of a hut, rapidly falling into
decay. I was rather surprised to observe a weather-beaten old board
nailed on a tree opposite the door. This board had some writing
on it, which was with difficulty decipherable. It stated that a
man called Paul Rieu had for two years made his home in that hut,
where he had stayed while seeking gold in the vicinity. As a proof
of his words I could see pits dug at the small river near by, and
evidently made by him during his search for the precious metal. He
must have been all alone; and what a dreary life to lead in this
desolate spot, with nothing but the wild African bush for miles
on all sides! I conclude his search was not successful. The poor
fellow must have gone away disappointed after two years of lonely
toiling under the hot tropical sun.
After this the country began to get more open, and it was evident
that we were rapidly descending towards the Sankarani River. We
passed through a wide grassy plain on to the right bank of the
river. It looked a likely place for kob, which are fond of the
marshy swamps bordering on streams; but though I saw some fairly
fresh tracks we did not come across any of these antelope.
The river is about 100 yards wide here, and has a very swift
current. I looked in vain for a canoe, as it was impossible to
ford it. In the distance we could see a village on the far bank,
but the people could not, or would not, hear our repeated shouts. A
few shots from my rifle eventually brought out some men who half
hid in the bush, thinking we were come to “make war.” Probably
the last time they had heard rifles fired was during the Sofa war,
and the unaccustomed sound called up unwelcome memories of rapine
and slaughter. With some difficulty I managed to reassure them,
and proceeded to explain we merely wanted a canoe to convey us and
our belongings to the other shore.
We halted at the village, which was called Balandougou, and it was
here that my troubles with the porters commenced.
In the afternoon I had been out to see if I could pick up a few
bushfowl on some likely-looking farms close by, and on my return was
met by Mamadu, who told me that he had heard the carriers talking
about deserting me. Although I only wanted eight men, I was aware
that it would be extremely hard to get any to replace them at this
village, which had only a score of inhabitants, mostly decrepit men
and women or quite young children. I was therefore determined not to
give them the opportunity of bolting. Further, I was much annoyed
at their faithless behaviour, after their promises to accompany me
until I reached the Niger, if necessary. I summoned them at once,
telling them I had knowledge of their intention to desert, and that
any man attempting to do so would be flogged. They all denied they
had ever been guilty of such a base thought! But, needless to say,
I did not believe them. That night I made them all sleep in the
same hut, pitching my camp bed outside one exit, while Mamadu was
made to sleep outside the other.
This little arrangement successfully stopped them from carrying
out any projects they might have formed. Next day I had to take
precautions on the march to prevent their defection. I constituted
myself rearguard, making my servant walk beside the leading carrier,
and in this order we proceeded until we arrived at a large village
about eleven o’clock. Here I decided to halt for breakfast and
interview the headman with a view to getting fresh porters. As
a matter of fact, the headman of the place was a local chief of
some importance, as I soon perceived, when he arrived dressed in
a finely embroidered gown and wearing a sword. Certain chiefs in
Guinea are allowed by the French to wear swords as a mark of rank.
He came with a picturesque following of courtiers, such as these
men love to surround themselves with.
They have usually several advisers among them, and it is
quite amusing to notice how the advisers often rule their king.
Frequently, when asking a chief a question, one will notice that he
is not even given the chance of answering for himself; his so-called
adviser chips in with his answer before the chief has time to open
his mouth! They came to the hut which had been prepared for my
breakfast, sitting down at my invitation. After a lengthy palaver
it was settled that eight carriers were to be sent to the spot
where I should camp that night to replace my present gang. This
seemed preferable to the alternative of waiting here till evening
for the young men to come in from their farms, where they were now
at work. I despatched Mamadu to inform my porters that they would
be released that same night as soon as their reliefs arrived,
and then settled myself down to breakfast. It never occurred to
me that it would be necessary to any longer keep guard over them,
as they now knew they would so soon be released.
After my meal I went outside the hut for a stroll, when to my
disgust I saw only three carriers remaining, while a couple of
them were just to be seen running as fast as their legs would
carry them towards the bush in the distance. Having threatened the
remaining three with dire vengeance should they try to follow their
comrades, I despatched Mamadu to the chief to order him to have the
defaulters caught without delay. At the end of a couple of hours
the fugitives were brought back, and I was able to proceed on my
journey. We resumed the march in the same order as that morning,
for it was obviously not safe to let them go unguarded.
All the time I was rather anxious as to the chances of the chief
fulfilling his promises about sending me the fresh carriers that
night. However, there was nothing to be done but to hope for
the best, and in the meantime to keep a sharp eye on my present
porters. That night I halted at a small stream, which was the only
water within some miles, and was the place where I had directed
the new carriers to meet me. I did not much relish the prospects
of the evening before me; keeping a watch on the would-be truants
and slumber were two things that would hardly reconcile themselves
without the assistance of the friendly hut of yesterday. About 9
p.m., however, to my joy, I heard a commotion outside the small camp,
and on going out of my tent found it indicated the arrival of the
carriers from the previous halting-place. The chief had after all
been honest to his promises, and I had been unjust to his majesty.
The following morning I made a very early start, about four
o’clock, with the intention of trying for a West African eland. My
“boy” and carriers were to go on to a small village only some
ten miles away, where I would join them that night. I had been told
that eland were to be found in this neighbourhood, and had myself
seen tracks of one the previous day. Not having time to wait more
than a day in that part of the country, I did not feel inclined to
go away without trying my luck after one of these fine animals. The
eland is one of the very largest of West African antelopes, and
is decidedly rare. The horns make a splendid trophy, which I was
most anxious to add, if possible, to my collection. One of my new
carriers professed to be a hunting-man out of work and to know the
country well, so I had arranged to take him with me. We were now on
the watershed between the Rivers Fie and Sankarani, a rather sparsely
wooded country, intersected by several small streams which flowed
down on either side to join the two big rivers in due course. The
haunts of the eland were said to be on the eastern side towards
the Sankarani River, whither we directed our steps.
The ground slopes gradually here down to the river, and was some
of the prettiest scenery I had seen since my entry into French
Guinea. Large stretches of open grass-land alternated with park-like
country, and occasionally one came on a more thickly wooded part,
through which ran sylvan glades, carpeted with emerald-green grass,
by the side of which flowed a tiny stream of crystal water. The spot
seemed a paradise for game of all sorts, judging by the numerous
tracks. My time was too limited, unfortunately, to allow of other
game than eland to be pursued. I must own I felt sorry now that I
had not come straight to this place instead of spending those last
few days in Wasulu on a fruitless expedition after the elephant. I
simply could not afford to spend more than the single day in this
pleasant game-haunted locality. My plan was to devote all my time
till four o’clock to the joys of the chase, by which hour, if
luck favoured me, I hoped to have bagged an eland; in any case,
I would have to wend my steps campward by that time, as I should
probably have three or four hours of walking in front of me.
My cherished hopes were, however, doomed to disappointment, for
although we searched all the most likely places, not a sign of the
beasts could we discover. There were, it was true, a good many
old tracks, but that was poor consolation. It seemed that I was
out of luck just now; first there was my disappointment about the
elephant in Wasulu, and now the evasive eland was having a laugh
at my expense. Cheering myself up with the thought that there
must be a good time in store for me in the near future, at four
o’clock I directed my shikari to show me the homeward path. It
was dark by the time we got out of the bush on to the track, and
I was not sorry at last to see the cheerful glow of a fire in the
distance which indicated the position of my hut. I had been on my
legs for a good many hours that day, and that, with the natural
feeling of disappointment, made me feel really tired. A hot bath,
dinner and a pipe by the fireside made me feel a new man again. It
was my invariable custom to have a fire of logs at night. This was
useful more especially to keep off the mosquitoes, which are always
most assiduous in their onslaughts after sunset.
Sand-flies, too, were bad in many places, and the ordinary
mosquito-net was of no use against these tiny, venomous creatures.
The meshes, close enough to protect you from the attacks of
the “anopheles,” were by no means impermeable to the minute
sand-fly. Fortunately for me, I had previous experience of these
wicked insects, and had prepared myself with a net of close meshes
to guard me against their unwelcome attentions. To travellers
in the bush I would always recommend a net with fine meshes, for
sand-flies are not uncommon in any part of West Africa. The chief
drawback is that one naturally feels hotter in this pattern of net,
but to my mind this is infinitely preferable to being tortured by
sand-flies all night, thereby making sleep a physical impossibility.
On my arrival I was told by Mamadu that the chief had refused to
provide “chop” for the carriers, saying he had none in the
place. I at once sent for the old man to ask for some explanation,
as I was well aware that rice or millet was fairly abundant at this
time of year, and my party was a small one to cater for.
After a good deal of palaver and threats on my part of reporting
him to the Commissioner at Siguiri, in which district I was now
travelling, he was reduced to a more sensible frame of mind, and
hurried off to carry out my orders with considerable alacrity. This
was the first occasion on which I had had any trouble about rationing
my followers.
The French have an excellent custom in Guinea, and one which I had
previously never found to fail me. When a white man arrives in a
village it is the duty of the chief or headman, without any order
from the traveller, to at once provide and cook sufficient food for
the whole party of carriers and “boys.” The ration is about one
and a half pounds of rice or millet per head. The meal is brought
to the European for inspection about sundown, and payment is then
made at the tariff rates. In some places the headman or chief will
bring presents of fowls, or perhaps some eggs. When the native is a
rich man he will often even produce a sheep or cow. These presents,
of course, cannot be accepted without payment, or a return present
in kind of about equal value. Some people give a return present of
much greater value in money or kind, but this system seems to me
to be a bad one, as it encourages these natives to make a sort of
trade, most profitable to themselves, in so-called “presents.”
The French deprecate the habit of paying more than the actual value
to the individual concerned. I have frequently found this custom
of “presents” such a nuisance that I now inform the chief on my
arrival in a town of exactly what I require in the way of food, at
the same time telling him that “presents” are not wanted. There
is no doubt that this saves a good deal of annoyance and unnecessary
expense. It would, for instance, be most inconvenient and rather
expensive to be “dashed” a bullock, when one’s following
only consisted of eight persons, and to have to expend four or five
pounds in payment therefor. To encumber oneself with a live bullock
until one had a chance to dispose of it would be an impossibility,
and the only alternative is to slaughter it at once. It will be
realized that this sort of entertainment, if repeated three or four
times, would soon lead to bankruptcy! I recollect seeing a curious
and amusing kind of “dash” made on one occasion.
A friend of mine, who was a distinguished official, had been to a
country which had only lately come under control of the Government,
and in which the natives were unaccustomed to the usual method of
showing their appreciation of a white man’s visit. They evidently
thought that this was a moment when a great effort must be made to
display their generosity. A solemn cortège arrived, headed by the
chief, with the “dash.” I shall never forget the horror-stricken
look on my friend’s face when, with due ceremony, a young girl was
produced and handed over to him. As the official in question was a
particularly shy and modest man, the full humour of the situation
will be thoroughly appreciated.
The following day the country began to take on a more populated
appearance. Large expanses of land planted with crops of millet
and cassada were to be seen, while villages became more frequent
and natives passed us from time to time on the road. About eight
o’clock in the morning we arrived at the top of a big hill, upon
the summit of which there was perched a small hamlet. The headman
brought out a calabash of delicious fresh milk, rich and frothy,
just drawn from the cow. I gladly took a cup of the refreshing
beverage while we were waiting for the last carriers to come in.
These people were Jomongonas, a section of the widely distributed
Malinké tribe. They are purely agriculturists, as was indeed
evidenced by the wide farms of waving crops through which we
had passed.
The view from the top of this hill was magnificent. We were now
well down the western slope of the Sankarani-Fie watershed, and from
here I got my first glimpse of the latter river. To the north there
ran a mass of isolated peaks, like a series of broken links in the
chain of hills along which we had been marching for the last two
days. The reddish-brown hue of the laterite rocks of which they were
formed made a pleasing contrast to the golden fields of ripe millet
scattered chequerwise over their steep sides. Far away in the south
could be seen the River Fie, a tiny shimmering streak of water,
gradually widening, as it flowed westward to join the Niger, into
an imposing expanse. The valley through which it flowed was a wide,
fruitful plain, where cassada and millet crops jostled against each
other, and in the centre of which could be discerned a thin line of
rich, dark green foliage, marking the course of the winding stream.
Overhead was a bright, azure sky with the golden rays of the
morning sun shining upon the smiling landscape. We rested that
night at the town of Jilingé, the biggest place I had yet seen in
the bush-country of Guinea, and the centre of the millet-growing
district. Jilingé consists of three large villages, each of which on
a rough estimate must contain 2000 inhabitants. The central village
is the principal one, and it is here the chief of the Jomongonas
resides. I was lodged in a palatial hut, with two imposing, carved
wooden doors, and what was more to the purpose, they were doors
through which one could enter without fear of knocking one’s
head. Most West African huts have one point in common, that the doors
are built so low that it is necessary for the shortest person who
wishes to enter to double him or herself up in a most undignified
fashion if a severe blow on the head is to be avoided.
My house was also roomy and airy in comparison to the average
edifice it had been my fate to live in, so I began to feel myself
in luxury. My feelings of comfort and rest were, however, soon to
be crushed. Mamadu arrived at the door with a long face, which I
felt sure meant some catastrophe of a serious nature. His news was
that the carriers had all bolted. This was really too annoying just
when I thought I had got matters satisfactorily arranged till we
should reach the Niger. I suppose the sight of such a metropolis,
as Jilingé must appear to them, had produced this demoralizing
effect. I summoned the chief for a palaver on the carrier question,
with imprecations on my lips against the faithless fugitives. The
chief was amiability itself, and promised me as many men as I
should want for the following day; but there was one small matter
on which we could not agree. He said the carriers should take my
loads as far as the next village, where I could procure fresh men,
who would carry for me to the succeeding village, and so on.
As the country was now getting thickly populated, it appeared that
I would have to change my porters every two miles or so, in other
words, ten times before reaching the Niger! It is hardly to be
wondered at that I vowed I would never do this, even if I had to
take the chief with me to ensure my carriers remaining faithful. He
intimated that this was the custom of the country, and had so been
from time immemorial. I politely replied that I was the last person
in the world to wish to break old customs (this custom did seem
such a probable one!), but that it was also a custom for chiefs to
supply white men with carriers when necessary, and for as long as
they might be required in a particular “cercle,” as the French
call their districts. It was not till I had tried every conceivable
argument, and had at last to resort to the old threat of reporting
him to the Commissioner, that he finally promised his men should go
as far as I desired. True it is that by this time I was aware the
chiefs had not much influence over their people, and the promise he
had given might be broken through no fault of his; still, it would
have been impossible to get the fellows even to start without him,
so I had to hope for the best while fearing the worst.
[Illustration: A SENAFOU NATIVE FROM THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF WAGADUGU
Two deep gashes from the eye to the mouth are the tribal marks of
these people. The particular tribe of a native in West Africa can
in many cases be determined by the size and position of the cuts,
or tribal marks, on his face.]
[Illustration: M. LOUIS NOVELLA AT SARAFINIAN
M. Novella was in charge of the customs post at Sarafinian, situated
in the plain below the eastern slopes of the Tembikunda Range,
which separates our British protectorate of Sierra Leone from
French Guinea. I have to thank him for his hospitality during my
short stay at his post.]
On leaving Jilingé we passed several small streams, flowing
towards the Fie, in which natives were to be seen washing
gold. The metal is found in small quantities about the Fie River,
and this is noticeable, as many women wear gold ornaments in this
region. Every village has a native goldsmith, who fashions rough
trinkets, such as ear-rings, bracelets, etc., for the adornment of
the local beauties. The gold in this part is entirely alluvial,
according to native information. I should imagine even this is
only found in very small quantities. The gold mines are on the
other side of the Niger in the direction of Buré, some fifty miles
north-west of the town of Siguiri. I did not visit Siguiri myself,
but I understand that there are several European companies there who
are interested in gold. British and German are said to predominate,
but at present business is not very bright in the mines.
We marched for some miles up the Fie valley before striking the
right bank of the stream.
This was the last river of any size to be crossed before meeting
the Niger. Here I noticed a peculiar thing connected with native
superstition, and one I had likewise remarked at the crossing of
the Sankarani. The Fie was the natural geographical boundary of
the Jomongona tribe. A belief existed among the people that any
man who should cross this “Rubicon” would bring misfortune to
his family. It seems curious that a tribe should be afraid of
passing the boundary into the next country, when the two tribes
were at peace, but so it was. On account of this superstition
the Jomongonas have not spread westward, nor have they had any
intercourse with the people over their border. Intermarriage between
the two races seemed to be unknown. I was unaware that this strange
belief existed until I reached the river and noticed the hesitation
of my carriers to cross it.
My difficulties now appeared to be on the verge of recommencing.
What was the use of chiefs who promised by all they held sacred
to ensure the loyalty of the porters, when there remained strong
superstitions of this kind to be overcome? Having placed their
loads on the ground they stoutly refused to move a yard farther. My
situation was comical if it had not been so tragic. Here was I,
with my worldly possessions, stuck on the bank of this river in
the middle of the bush, while my carriers refused to advance a step
and might at any moment run away, leaving us in the lurch without
any prospect of replacing them. I tried in turn gentle persuasion
and threats of chastisement. The former had the effect such methods
generally produce on natives of making them think I was “soft,”
while the latter had the equally disastrous effect of making them
so frightened that, if I had not stopped the ringleaders myself,
they would have all run away. There seemed to be only one way out
of the predicament. I called Mamadu, telling him to make all haste
and return to the chief of Jilingé with a message from me that
he must come to the Fie at once and palaver. The carriers were
informed of my intentions, and told to remain till his arrival.
Mamadu went off, and I took up a position on the bank above the
men, where I could watch any attempt at desertion, at the same
time taking the precaution to place my rifle by my side—an act
of which they realized the significance.
I had now to possess my soul in patience, for Mamadu and the chief
could not possibly arrive for a couple of hours, it being quite
three miles to the town. The porters did not give any trouble, but
sat silently and sullenly below me. Never had two hours seemed so
long! Eventually, to my joy, I espied my servant, heading a small
procession, moving across the plain towards me. The chief and his
followers seated themselves around me, and, to cut a long story
short, after a long discussion, in which he was made to understand
that if he did not compel his men to cross with my loads, he would
be made to come with me to the nearest Commissioner, he did what
I required.
When the last load had been despatched to the other bank I let
him depart, made happy with a present of a small packet of tea
and sugar, and vowing that the carriers would give me no further
cause for annoyance. On this point I had my doubts, but told him
I sincerely hoped for his sake that they would not, as I should
certainly report the whole occurrence to the Commissioner.
These vexatious delays had caused me to lose many precious hours, and
I now pushed on as rapidly as possible to the Niger, which we reached
on the 17th of February, at a place called Balandougou-Somno-Bara,
not far from the large village of Nafadié. For the time being,
at any rate, I had no more carrier troubles, and was quite as glad
as they were to see the big river once more.
At this village with the very long name there is a canoe ferry.
The river was about 300 yards wide at this point, but divided
into two streams of equal width by a long, narrow sandbank. While
watching my loads being transported I noticed a river barge, under
full sail, going up-stream towards Bamako. It was the property of
a French trading firm, the name of which was inscribed in large
letters on the sails. These barges are made of wood, and will carry
two or three tons of merchandise. The usual period of transit from
Kouroussa or Kankan to Bamako occupies seven days. During the rainy
season, when there is plenty of water, barges of twenty-five tons
burden can navigate this portion of the stream.
I calculated I must be about 100 miles south of Bamako, and
determined to push on that night to Tombola, on the other bank,
which was on the main Siguiri-Bamako road.
While the transport operations were going on Mamadu, whose duty it
was to see the loads safely shipped, disappeared. On looking up
the river I observed him in the distance, stealthily approaching
a group of waterfowl of all sizes and descriptions, which were
sunning themselves on the sandy bank of the stream. The ground was as
flat as at pancake, without any sort of cover, and it was obvious
that his painful endeavours to advance unperceived were doomed
to failure. Sure enough, the birds soon rose in a cloud, flying
off out of sight round a bend of the river. Mamadu went forward,
however, to the spot where they had been, where he stooped to pick up
something. I took no further notice of his movements, until I heard
his familiar voice close by. He then appeared, staggering under the
weight of a big fish, which must have weighed at least twenty pounds,
and had the look of an Indian mahseer. The fish was beginning to
rot, and had such an unpleasant smell that I bade him remove it at
once. This he did with a look of reproach, as much as to say that
this was an ungrateful way of showing my appreciation of his labours.
For the benefit of the uninitiated I may state that the native
prefers rotten fish to the fresh article, probably and justly
thinking there is more flavour about it. Mamadu’s version of his
adventure was highly amusing. He said that seeing a bird near the
water, which was “très bon manger,” he had intended to try to
catch it with a small fishing-net which he had found close by. His
idea was to approach within a few yards and then lasso it! Several
of the birds were pelicans, and had evidently been discussing their
morning meal when he frightened them and they flew off, dropping
the dainty morsel.
The people here are mostly fishermen. They catch many kinds of fish
in the Niger, some of which have an excellent flavour. The best
fish I ever tasted was the “capitaine”; it runs up to ten or
twelve pounds weight frequently, and is beautifully firm. Many of
the Niger fish are difficult to eat on account of the numerous bones
they contain, but this variety has few bones. Electric mud fish are
fairly common when the river is low. They are flat, reminding one
of dabs, and if you touch them you experience a decided electric
shock. These fish make a peculiar “clucking” sort of noise, by
which they can often be easily located. The native fisherman catches
his fish with nets, or more frequently in traps. In some parts
they even spear fish, but it is unusual on this portion of the Niger.
It is a usual sight in the early morning to see the father of the
family, accompanied by his son, often quite a small urchin, setting
out from his village in a dug-out canoe for the fishing-ground. He
then casts his net into the water, dragging it while the little
chap sits in the stern and cleverly manipulates the paddle. These
fisherfolk are brought up, almost from the cradle, to paddle a
canoe; it is wonderful with what energy and endurance the youngsters
will propel the craft. On the Niger it is unusual to see the women
paddling, but in other West African rivers this is a common sight.
The fish-traps are generally made of reed-canes, in the shape of
a cone, with the base open and the apex tightly closed. A series
of these are placed in some suitable spot, such as a backwater,
the bases being turned up-stream. There are several devices for
keeping the fish in once they have entered the base of the cone,
but the principle is that of a trap door which closes on the victim
as soon as it has entered.