A land of inundations — River transport in the Macina Province
— The “King of Mopti” — Mopti — Prospects of the rice
trade — Shooting wart-hog — Native huts — The protection of
egrets — A lion as a pet — A dangerous joke — Scarcity of
wood — The white ant — The driver ant.
MOPTI is the chief town in the rich province of Macina. The province
lies entirely on the right bank of the Niger. It extends on the
north to Lake Dhebo, on the east almost to Bandiagara, and on the
south to the town of Djenné. The whole country is flat, except for
a low range of hills to the northward. The towns are all built on
slightly rising ground, in order to avoid the floods which cover the
country-side at certain times of the year. Indeed, were it not for
this slight elevation upon which they stand, they would inevitably
be submerged; as it is, they stand out like islands from the midst of
the surrounding plains. Practically the whole province is inundated
during the season of floods by reason of its low-lying situation.
Two big rivers are the main factors in producing this state of
affairs; one is the Niger, while the other is its affluent the
Bani. Besides these two big streams there are numerous tributaries
of both which play their part in the inundations. Macina is the
richest grain-producing country of the French Soudan. Huge areas
of land are under cultivation for rice and millet, large quantities
being exported annually to feed the people of the Senegal Colony.
The soil is peculiarly adapted to these two cereals. Rice is grown on
the clayey ground found close to the river banks, while the drier,
sandier soil found farther away from the rivers is admirably suited
to the production of millet.
The country may be, and frequently is, compared with Egypt.
There is a striking similarity between the physical geography of
the two lands. In each case a mighty river flowing through a flat,
sandy country, fertilizes huge tracts of land on its banks by its
annual inundations. But here the resemblance ends.
In Egypt nature’s handiwork is aided and improved by artificial
irrigation—digging canals, making dams, etc.
In the Western Soudan nature does everything and man does
nothing. The native is too lazy to dig irrigation canals, for he
makes large profits out of his grain crops as they are, and has not
the necessary ambition to wish to increase them. “I have enough
to eat and clothe myself,” says he, “and there is sufficient to
satisfy the needs of my wife and children; therefore, why should I
toil further?” His mode of argument is a natural one and is very
common in the fertile countries of West Africa. It is an acknowledged
fact that not a quarter of the fertile land is under cultivation,
and by judicious irrigation the fertile area could be more than
doubled. The population is undoubtedly small compared with the area
of the country, but the existing numbers could certainly grow far
larger crops than they do at present, without greatly increasing
their working days.
The population is augmenting rapidly, as a natural result of the
existing prosperity and peace under the French rule; for this land
suffered like so many others from the constant petty wars which
were waged up to the end of last century.
In the season of the floods it must be a wonderful sight to gaze
from Mopti over the huge lake which spreads its waters over the
face of the land for 100 miles in one direction and sixty miles
without interruption in another direction. I regretted that I was
travelling in the middle of the dry season, and when I was at Mopti
the rivers were confined within their natural limits. I was told
that when the country was inundated the game all herded together in
the few dry spots available, so that shooting them was positively
slaughter. The unfortunate animals are frequently surprised by the
sudden and rapid rise of the water, being either drowned or cut
off without chance of retreat until the water subsides.
Owing to the existence of these waterways transport by river in
the Macina Province is obviously greatly facilitated. The Bani
River is navigable to Djenné, 100 kilometres distant, and even at
times to the town of Sikasso. Djenné is not actually on the Bani,
but a navigable creek connects the town with the stream. Lighters
and launches can use that river as long as they can navigate the
Niger; canoes can use it during all the months of the year without
difficulty. The future of this province seems to be assured, for
the increasing population will give a great impetus to rice and
millet growing; in the course of time irrigation is certain to be
introduced, and the revenue will go up by leaps and bounds.
Almost immediately opposite the junction of the rivers Niger and
Bani there is a small town, with an imposing-looking building of wood
and galvanized iron. The place is Charlotte Ville, while the house,
I was informed by a pilot, belonged to the “King of Mopti.”
Charlotte Ville is really a part of Mopti, and as one proceeds up
the Bani the two other portions of which the place is composed come
into view. These two latter, being quite two miles from the former,
are close together, standing on the top of miniature elevations
rising out of the surrounding plain.
The centre portion is the abode of the Resident and traders; all
the natives are being gradually relegated to the southern part;
while Charlotte Ville is noteworthy for being the residence of a
French colonist. It was this colonist who was mentioned to me as
being the “King of Mopti,” and I was much surprised to hear that
his majesty was a white man. I believe his title originated from
a large fortune which he had made, and lost, in the place. In any
case he had lived many years at Mopti, had had large dealings with
the natives, and was well known to them for many miles around. This
gentleman supplied the Europeans with vegetables and fruit from a
fine large farm which he had made on the place.
At Mopti proper, where the Resident resides, the place has quite a
civilized appearance. On approaching it we could see several European
buildings with tin roofs, conspicuous amongst the brown, mud-built
native houses. The town is built well up on a slight eminence for
the reasons previously stated, a wide stretch of sandy foreshore
extending down to the water edge. A few leafy trees throw a grateful
shade on the front of the town, otherwise trees are singularly
deficient around Mopti. The surrounding plain, when I passed through,
was covered with scrubby grass, very much burnt up at this time of
the year. The market-place has a distinctly Moorish appearance. This
portion of the town is behind the European quarters, and consists of
small, narrow streets in which are long rows of mud-built booths,
open at the back and front, where are to be seen the vendors of
local produce, squatted native-fashion behind their wares.
The Resident was away when I arrived, but I was shown the places of
interest by the Assistant Resident, who, by his wide knowledge of
the natives and the country, had evidently an extended experience
of them.
A road is being built from the main town to a low range of hills
in the north, in order to connect the place with dry land during
the floods. The road is an embankment some thirty feet above the
plain and its length is to be about eight miles, so the task is
not an easy one. Another road is to be constructed to unite Mopti
proper with the native town. A fair road exists between Charlotte
Ville and the Residency, so that very shortly the three portions
of Mopti will be permanently connected.
[Illustration: MOPTI. STREET SCENE
The appearance is decidedly Eastern. Natives squat in their mud-built
stalls haggling, as is the manner of their kind, over some trifling
bargain. Trade routes from the Ivory Coast, Gold Coast, Dahomey,
and the distant eastern “Bend” of the Niger all send their
quota of produce to this market.]
A big school is also being built, to which the surplus pupils of
the Djenné Arabic College will be sent. Altogether Mopti is a very
go-ahead little town, and certainly one of the most prosperous on
this section of the Niger.
At Mopti I was introduced to an interesting French merchant, M.
Simon. This gentleman has done much to try to improve the quality
of rice put on the market by the Macina Province. I mentioned that
a quantity of this rice was exported to Senegal, but it did not
find great favour there, because it was dirtier in appearance than
the Indo-China rice, also the latter could be bought almost as
cheaply at St. Louis as Macina rice. The high rate of transport
on the Senegal-Niger Railway was largely responsible for this
big price. M. Simon was of opinion that if the rice were cleaned
locally it would be more appreciated at St. Louis, and, further,
that by setting up a mill at Mopti, the cost of unhusking it could
be materially reduced, permitting it to be sold at a lower price and
thereby successfully competing with the Indo-China article. The rice
is not really dirty, but grain grown in this country has a small
reddish streak in it which gives it an unappetizing appearance in
comparison to the milky white rice from Indo-China.
M. Simon has imported a mill which can perform three distinct
operations:
(1) Clean the rice.
(2) Unhusk it.
(3) Scrape off the red skin.
This mill can treat 2000 tons per annum. M. Simon proposes to
import a 100-h.p. engine which will be able to deal with 2000 tons
yearly. By this means he will be able to so lower the cost of his
rice as to sell it at St. Louis for 180 francs per ton, instead
of 210 francs, the present price. When the Thies-Kayes Railway,
connecting Kayes with the coast, is finished it is thought that
it will be possible for Government to reduce the freights by rail
considerably, and a further fall in the price of Soudan-grown rice
may be confidently looked for.
Owing to the trouble in the engine-room it was found necessary
to wait at Mopti for two days. Here also there was a suitable
opportunity of punishing the malefactors who were responsible
for the breakdown. We were all very pleased to hear that they had
been heavily fined and had had their licences taken away by the
Commissioner.
The night of my arrival I dined with the French officials, and one of
the dishes consisted of some excellent venison, which I was told was
a haunch of wart-hog. It appeared that these beasts were plentiful
in the vicinity of Mopti, so it was arranged the next day to have
a shooting expedition in the wart-hog country. The animals were on
the other bank of the Niger, a very early start being necessary
in order to reach their haunts by daybreak. My French friends
were unable to accompany me at the last moment owing to pressure
of work. At 4 a.m. I started off in pitch darkness, being paddled
down the river in the Government canoe by a couple of sturdy Bosos.
The air was chilly at that hour as we moved swiftly through the
water. Stillness reigned around us for the first half-hour, until,
about dawn, the phantom shapes of flighting duck and geese began to
show themselves. At the risk of being a bit late for the wart-hog I
could not resist the chance of some sport with the duck on the river,
so I ordered my canoemen to paddle the craft into a sheltered nook
under the reeds, where I was concealed and in a good position for
the birds as they flew overhead. We were evidently at last getting
into the waterfowl region, for hitherto I had seen but few on the
Niger. After some pleasant sport in which I managed to collect three
or four varieties of duck, besides a goose and some teal, I urged the
canoe boys to hurry on to the spot where I was to land. The sun was
just rising as we stepped ashore at a small village. The country was
a swampy tract along the river bank, such as the wart-hog delights
to roam in. On the west, as the ground became firmer, it was covered
with patches of mimosa bush and low scrub, where the pig would come
and feed in the early morning and evening, while during the day
they made their lair in the low ground. We had not gone far when a
grey object loomed up in the still, uncertain light, looking so much
like the trunk of a mimosa tree that I hesitated whether or not to
fire. The object was not more than seventy yards away, affording
an easy shot. During that interval of uncertainty I saw the thing
suddenly turn and gallop away at a good pace, settling the question
of its identity once and for all! It certainly was a wart-hog, so I
took a flying shot at its retreating form. It careered on however,
untouched, with its tail contemptuously curled up behind it, in
the ludicrous fashion adopted by these animals when frightened. I
had started the morning badly, and could not help thinking I was
unlikely to get another such easy chance.
Tracks there were in plenty, but it was not till I was well on
my way back that I managed to shoot one. My first indication of
his presence was given by hearing the peculiar grunt to which they
give vent when disturbed. He only trotted a few yards off, however,
before halting to stare at me, thus giving an easy chance. These
animals are very stupid and curious; indeed, I think they show
more inquisitiveness than antelopes. I have frequently watched
a wart-hog turn round to stare at his pursuer four or five times
before he gets out of range; the result is, of course, often fatal
to him. The curious excrescences on the beast’s face undoubtedly
make him one of the ugliest of living creatures, and the white,
curling tusks projecting from his jaws tend to enhance his uncouth
appearance. Wart-hog are very plentiful all along the Niger,
from Mopti to Timbuctu. The “Bend” of the river is one of
their favourite habitats, particularly that portion where water is
plentiful, and which is generally called the lake district. I have
often seen them in droves of eight or ten, and have generally found
them far from being wary, so that they are easily approached. Their
sight is bad, but they appear to have a fairly keen sense of smell.
I do not think they have very sharp hearing.
On the way back to the canoe we made a detour through some grassy
country, where I picked up a couple of lesser bustard. I also saw
some greater bustard, but my efforts to approach within rifle-shot
of these very cunning-birds were unavailing. Both kinds of bustard
seemed to be common about here, but the greater was less common
than the lesser species.
At the village on the river bank I had to wait a short while for the
meat of the wart-hog to be brought in. The headman of the place asked
me, with well-meant hospitality, to rest from the heat of the sun in
his house, but after a glimpse inside I decided it was far cooler and
pleasanter under a tree in the open air. The houses in this part of
the country are made of mud, circular in shape, with roofs of grass
thatch. Verandahs are unknown, and as there is but one small door,
ventilation is very indifferent. The houses in the hot weather are
like ovens, for I suppose the temperature in the day is well over
100 degrees inside them. At night the numerous members of a large
family are all crowded together in this small space, so that I should
imagine the atmosphere must be even more intolerable than by day.
On our way up the river to Mopti I saw several white egrets.
These beautiful birds, which used to abound on the Upper and Middle
Niger, have greatly decreased in numbers during the last few years.
The reason for this is that a great trade in egret feathers used to
be done by French merchants, and thousands of the creatures used
to be slaughtered to supply the market. I was told of several men
who had made considerable fortunes in this way. The practice was
particularly cruel, as the most valuable feathers only grow during
the mating season, the massacre of the birds thus tending rapidly
to wipe out the whole species. The matter was, however, strongly
represented to the French authorities, who took strict measures to
suppress the wanton destruction of egrets on the Niger. A fine of
1000 francs is now imposed on any offender, and the result of this
law has had a most salutary effect in preventing these birds from
being shot, so that it is much to be hoped that in a few years they
may have regained their former numbers. The best feathers are found
on the back, and comparatively few can be obtained from one bird,
consequently a large number of egrets must be killed to produce a
fair “bag” of feathers. Besides the white egret there is also
a grey egret. The latter variety is not so valuable as its white
relation, but the colour is a very beautiful French grey.
At Mopti one of the merchants had a tame lioness. This beast was
quite a cub when it was captured, and the story of its capture is
rather an interesting one. One day when shooting near the river
banks he had killed the mother of a big family of lion cubs, and
was leaving the scene of the exploit when he heard a whining noise
in the bush hard by. On searching in the foliage he discovered this
young lioness, which refused to follow the example of its brothers
and sisters who had all bolted at the report of the rifle. This
little beggar appeared to be heart-broken at its mother’s death,
refusing to leave the spot. She was easily captured, and has been
a pet ever since. She was about twelve months old when I made her
acquaintance, being kept chained up in the courtyard at the back
of the trader’s house. Her owner says she is perfectly harmless,
but I would not feel inclined to trust her very much—her manners
were decidedly rough! She used to play with the dog when younger,
and I was told they were fast companions. A beast of this description
is certainly difficult and expensive to feed when it arrives at
maturity. Our friend in this case used to make a meal off a big
sheep or else two goats daily. She was not given a full ration,
for, as the Frenchman her master explained, if she were too well
fed she would grow so strong as possibly to be unmanageable. I am
afraid that even now she is getting out of hand, and any day may
have to be destroyed to prevent a disaster.
While at Mopti I met a young Frenchman who had been wounded in rather
a strange way when on a hunting expedition. As may be gathered from
the following story he was not very experienced, or such an accident
could never have occurred. He and a friend had made up a shooting
expedition in the same locality where I had been for wart-hog. They
separated at one patch of bush, with the intention of meeting on the
other side. The young fellow, thinking he would have a lark at his
friend’s expense, and apparently never dreaming of the danger he
might incur, made his way through the bush in the direction of his
friend, halting every now and then to emit a grunt in imitation of a
pig. The other sportsman, seeing a dark object half-concealed in the
foliage, and thinking by the noise it made that it was a wart-hog,
fired his rifle. To his horror as the object dropped it uttered
an unmistakably human cry of pain. He then discovered that he had
fired at his friend, wounding him severely in the leg. Under the
circumstances the latter was distinctly fortunate not to suffer
worse injuries. He might very easily have been killed, and, of
course, no blame could have attached to his companion. The young
man had been on crutches for some months at the time I saw him,
but luckily the injury would not permanently affect him. Another
fortunate point in the business was that the bullet was not a
sporting one, but solid-nosed, and simply went straight through
the leg, emerging on the other side without shattering the bone,
as it unquestionably would have done had it been of a different make.
[Illustration: A CAPTIVE LIONESS AT MOPTI
This animal was about a year old and had been brought up from days
of cubhood by its owner. The beast had an uncertain temper, so could
scarcely be called an affectionate pet. She had quite recently sprung
on a sheep which had unwarily wandered within range of her chain,
and made a substantial meal off the carcass!]
Before I left Mopti the Commissioner returned. He had been to
Djenné to buy wood for building the school. It is a strange fact
that at Mopti there is practically no wood. Almost the only wood
suitable for building purposes in this part of the French Soudan,
and indeed for many hundred miles down-stream below Timbuctu,
is the wood of the dum palm. At Djenné this tree grows profusely.
The great enemy of the carpenter in West Africa is the white
ant. This tiny creature has a most voracious appetite for wood, but
certain kinds, amongst others the dum palm and the cocoanut palm,
are impervious to his attacks. White ants always work in large
numbers. They can be seen travelling along in armies of several
thousand, marching in single file or two deep, and following a
little groove or channel which they have excavated for themselves.
Their presence in wood is first detected—if you are lucky—by
observing a narrow streak of earth running along the object they
are attacking. This is in reality a tunnel, which covers them and
affords them shelter while they work at the wood underneath. They
are most persistent little creatures, seldom abandoning the object
they are devouring until they have eaten right through it.
If you are not fortunate enough to discover their presence by the
appearance of the earthen tunnel, your first intimation will probably
be given by the sudden collapse of the particular article upon which
they have concentrated their efforts. If this happens to be one of
the uprights which support the roof of your house, even if you have
the good luck to escape without personal injury, it is trying to
suddenly find the building in ruins. Hence the necessity of using
a wood which can resist their onslaughts. Tarring wood will to a
certain extent keep them off, but it is by no mean reliable. The only
way to preserve wooden boxes and similar articles, which generally
rest on the ground, is to put saucers of water underneath, for the
ants will not then be able to climb on to the wooden surface.
Ants of several species are common in West Africa. Another kind,
which is in many ways more irritating even than the white ant,
is the driver ant. This animal also travels in big armies like
the one already referred to. The “driver” is only found in
bush-country. I never came across it in the drier, sandy soil of
the Western Soudan, where vegetation is not so luxurious as in the
countries nearer the sea-coast. He is brown, and larger than the
white ant. His particular hobby is to bite. He is certainly an
adept in the art of biting, as his unlucky victim soon discovers
to his cost. The “driver” is often seen on a bush path in the
daytime, when the best way of avoiding a close acquaintanceship is to
leap over the track he is following, and then vigorously shake your
feet as soon as you have got well out of his range, for despite all
precautions some of the followers in the army will be fairly certain
to have succeeded in attaching themselves to your legs as you passed.
But when the “driver” elects to come at night, as he frequently
does, you probably have no warning of his approach until you feel his
bite. Once they have settled on a victim they swarm mercilessly over
him in thousands, and, if left to work their evil will unmolested,
they will not leave the object of their attacks until they have
devoured it. I recollect on one occasion having a very miserable
night owing to “drivers.” I had gone to bed rather tired after
a long day’s march, when I suddenly woke up with unpleasant
stinging pains in my legs. I quickly realized that I had been
attacked by “drivers.” Leaping out of bed and striking a light
I discovered my blankets were covered with a black swarm of these
horrible creatures, several of which had settled themselves on my
limbs with some tenacity. On summoning my servant we tracked the
long line for about a hundred yards down the clearing in which I
was camped to some dank vegetation out of which they were emerging.
The only chance of turning them aside and getting a little sleep
that night was to light a fire across their tracks.
To add to the general discomfort it was pouring with rain, and a
fire was not an easy thing to kindle; however, at the cost of most
of the kerosene of which I was possessed, we managed to light a fire
and head them off. In such cases it is usually the best policy to
shift your camp and leave the ants the masters of the field, for
they are extremely hard to turn aside, and I have seen them put out
a fire by sheer force of numbers. In some parts of the country,
where the natives are pagans and indulge in human sacrifice, a
common method of killing their victim is to tie the individual up,
stripped of clothing, in such a position that movement is impossible,
leaving the “driver” ants to consume the body. The tortures of
such a slow, agonizing death must be terrible. A friend of mine once
had two puppies devoured in this way. His fox-terrier bitch had a
litter of three puppies one evening, and the following morning only
one remained. The ants had invaded the dog’s basket during the
night, and the mother had only been able to save a single member
of her family from her pertinacious enemies.