Game on the Issa-Ber — Hiring a canoe — A leaky craft — Borgou
grass — Fish tanks — Sebi — Tracks of lions — Good wildfowl
shooting — Tortures of a native saddle — Mamadu’s horsemanship
— A flat country — Fulani villages — Saraféré — Desert
winds — Niger canoes — Hardy hunters — Ancient fire-arms —
Lion shooting — The Fulanis.
ON the 13th of March I left Gauba. For the first few miles our way
lay through a swampy country, consisting of creeks and backwaters
of the Niger, or to be more accurate, of the Issa-Ber. Hundreds of
waterfowl of all descriptions were preening their feathers in the
morning sun, sitting in groups on the little islands in the middle
of the streams or floating lazily near the banks, watching us with
suspicious looks as we approached. Numerous game tracks led down
to the water’s edge, the footprints showing clearly in the soft
soil. Waterbuck and kob appeared to frequent these haunts in the
early morning, while wart-hog were very common. Allowing my carriers
to go on, I was able to secure some good specimens without proceeding
far into the bush on the higher ground to the west of our road.
On arriving at the village of Sibo I was told that further progress
by road was impossible, as the floods had been high that year and
the track was still under water. The only course to adopt was to
go by canoe. Hiring a canoe or any business transaction is always a
lengthy proceeding where the West African native is concerned. The
chief of the place had first to be summoned, and, of course, was
not to be found for some time. The virtue of patience is, indeed,
a golden one to possess in this land. The native’s methods are
invariably dilatory since time has no value for him. But it is easy
to preach patience and a great deal harder to practise it when one
is in a hurry to get things done. In this case I was kept waiting
a couple of hours before the chief arrived. The policeman provided
by the Commissioner at Niafounké had unfortunately not yet reached
me, but was to do so during the course of that morning. When the
chief had arrived a considerable discussion took place between his
insubordinate followers as to which one should supply the craft,
until I cut matters short by securing the best canoe I could find
and telling the chief I would send him back to Niafounké with a
message to the Commissioner unless the paddlers were forthcoming
within half an hour. Matters were at length settled, and my few
belongings quickly stowed on board.
Mamadu had secured a large earthenware pot, a very necessary article
for culinary purposes in a wooden canoe, as the fire had to be
lighted in this receptacle, and we were just shoving-off when the
policeman cantered up on his steed. As it was not possible to take
this beast on the canoe it had to be left at the village.
The canoe was about twenty feet long, leaked considerably and
had no awning, so I looked forward to a hot and uncomfortable
journey. My expectations were fully realized. In spite of two men
being constantly on duty to bale out, we made so much water that
at one time I feared we would have to run ashore and patch her up
before the voyage could be continued. The sun, too, was very trying
that day. It poured its rays mercilessly upon our heads until at
last I was driven to take refuge, in a rather ignominious fashion,
by lying at full length on my back, and placing my camp-table across
two seats I was able to get a little welcome shade underneath it. The
chief discomfort of my position was due to the water at the bottom
of the boat, so that I was immersed in a perpetual bath.
We were now in the Issa-Ber. The banks were sandy, and scrub was
scanty and stunted. The river is nearly a mile wide in many places,
and frequently too deep for poling to be effective. These canoes are
manipulated in two ways, either by paddles or poles. The canoemen
are expert at both these methods, but, owing to the strong wind
which is so prevalent, it is often hard work to make much progress
with paddles. The poles are merely long bamboos or palm stalks,
and with these the craft can be propelled in the shallower water
near the banks. When poling, we constantly found further progress
barred by thick masses of “borgou” grass. This grass has its
roots often twelve or fifteen feet deep in the water; it grows so
densely that it makes a thick matting from the surface of the water
downwards, through which it is extremely difficult to penetrate. The
appearance is somewhat similar to “sudd,” found on other rivers
in the tropics; and in many of the streams where navigation is not
frequent the whole channel is blocked, so that the only successful
means of dealing with it would appear to be to have a small steamer
fitted with a cutting apparatus to hew a channel for itself as it
moves through the water.
My servant could not speak Fulani or Sonrhai, the two languages
now required, so I found the policeman doubly useful; indeed,
without him it would have been hard to get anything done.
In several places we saw fish tanks, made on the edge of the
river banks, where the “borgou” was clearer or had been cut
away by the natives. Fish were first caught in traps or nets and
then stored in the tank alive. The riverside people are great
consumers of dried fish, live ones being taken out of the tanks
as requirements dictated, to be dried for local consumption or for
trade at neighbouring inland markets. At the time these fish were
being dried on the river banks the stench proceeding from them was
most unpleasant, making it necessary to give the shore a wide berth.
My recollections of Sébi are that it was one of the hottest and
dirtiest villages of the Western Soudan. I camped on the eastern
side of the town, but had occasion to enter it several times during
my stay in the place. The chief provided me with two hunters, who
could give me no immediate information of lion. There was no doubt,
however, that I was as likely to see them here as anywhere, for
the record of cows and sheep killed in this locality by “the king
of beasts” was far higher than anywhere else in the “Bend.”
A week before my arrival there had been a kill, and it was quite
likely that lion would soon revisit this happy hunting-ground. The
local herdsmen were told to send me immediate news of any signs
of the presence of lion which might be observed near their flocks;
one hunter was sent to seek for fresh tracks near the river, south
of the town, while I and the other hunter went off next morning to
a likely haunt to the north.
Three days brought no information of lion in the vicinity, but that
they had recently been there was certain, for I came across tracks,
varying from a week to a fortnight in age, of three different animals
within ten miles of the town. I have not the slightest doubt that
had I not been so pressed for time, and been able to prolong my
stay for a week or two, I would have been certain to get at least
one. Knowing, however, that I should probably get a chance soon,
for all the country in the “Bend” is fairly plentiful in lion,
I made preparations for my departure to Saraféré. My stay at
Sébi had not been unproductive, as I had shot a nice kob and a
red-fronted gazelle, which in size was within an eighth of an inch
of the record, besides several smaller heads of different varieties.
At Sébi there was quite the best duck, geese and teal shooting
I found anywhere on the Niger. At the back of the town there were
several large ponds and marshy rivulets in which swarms of birds
were always to be seen, while at night, about sunset, the waterfowl
could be shot flighting between the Niger and these places. Each
evening I went out with my shot-gun, and had some capital sport on
every occasion. Just when the light was getting dim the noise of the
whir of many wings would be heard in the air, when, on looking up,
a cloud of dusky objects might be seen approaching phantom-like
in the sky. The first shot would cause them to swerve, passing
away out of shot, but behind were line upon line of serried ranks,
all directing their flight towards the same objective, unaware of
the danger below them, until they heard the report of a gun and,
perhaps, saw one of their number fall to the ground. Quite apart
from lion or other big game, Sébi was decidedly worth a visit for
the sport of its wildfowl shooting.
From Sébi I was told that my shortest way was by canoe, but I
did not place much confidence in my information, for the water in
the small creeks, by which I must travel, was subsiding so rapidly
that it seemed highly probable I should find myself stranded before
I had gone very far on my journey. Besides, I was anxious to see
more of the country, and this could best be done on horseback. I
had brought no such luxury as an English saddle and bridle on
my expedition, so I had to get accustomed to the native horse
equipment. To anyone who wishes to try it I say most advisedly,
“Don’t.” Of course, one can get used to anything, but the
tortures suffered in accustoming oneself to a native saddle in the
Western Soudan are such that the game is decidedly not worth the
candle. By perseverance, and with the loss of a good deal of temper,
I did get used to the thing eventually, only, many was the time
I groaned at the thought of another day in that saddle and prayed
even for the roughest of English-made saddles.
The native saddle is made entirely of wood; even if the wood were
well-planed and with a level surface it would be endurable, but the
wood is roughly hewn and appears to be fashioned in a series of
little hills and dales, which are most fiendish contrivances for
a person only possessed of normal skin. To add to the discomfort
the saddle is seldom made out of one piece of wood, but the seat
consists of two or three planks which frequently do not fit over-well
against each other. A blanket thrown across it can do something to
alleviate one’s miseries, but at the best it is a poor remedy,
and a very hot one.
Mamadu was very anxious to ride, so I let him hire a horse too.
His horsemanship was very inferior, however, and after several
differences of opinion between himself and his mount, ending
invariably in his discomfiture, he came to the conclusion that he
preferred walking. Mamadu certainly did cut a strange figure on a
horse, his appearance causing much merriment to the whole party. At
this time he had, from somewhere or other, unearthed a long, black
coat, which had seen better days and was now very threadbare. This
garment covered his white coat, coming half-way down his white
baggy trousers as well. His head was adorned by a native sun-hat,
a conical affair, gaily decorated with coloured leather ribbons. On
horseback his appearance was even more ludicrous than it was on foot,
and when he used to prepare to mount he was greeted with loud yells
of derision from the carriers, who considered him fair game for a
jest. Poor Mamadu, his troubles were great in those days, and I am
afraid I did not feel as much sympathy for him as I perhaps should
have done.
I used to ride on with the policeman in the morning, ahead of
the carriers, the policeman carrying my shot-gun, while I had my
rifle slung over my shoulder. In this way one could get a good
deal of sport on the road. On observing any game I would dismount,
leaving my horse with the policeman, and was then free to stalk
at my leisure. The country was very open, with no other trees than
stunted dum palms, and sandy soil. For miles upon miles it was a flat
plain, watered with numerous shallow, slowly flowing streams, which
fertilized the country between the rivers Issa-ber and Bara-Issa,
and connected those two main waterways.
The track was ill-defined, so that I found it necessary to take a
guide from village to village. Cattle-tracks crossed and recrossed
our path in every direction, in many cases completely obliterating
all signs of the way we were endeavouring to follow. Moreover,
wide detours had constantly to be made to avoid inundations, of
which only the nearest villages were aware. These inundations were
very deceptive. Some were fordable, but others had a treacherous
quagmire under the surface of the water, from which it would be no
easy matter to extricate oneself. On approaching these inundated
areas we would disturb big flocks of teal, which had been hidden
in the rushes, and now circled high over our heads waiting for our
departure to settle down once more in their accustomed haunts.
The villages were all Fulani. These people, although in many ways
superior to the other inhabitants of the Western Soudan, live in
far inferior houses. When approaching a place a glance will be
sufficient to tell if it is inhabited by Fulanis. Their huts are
most primitive and flimsy affairs. They are built of plaited straw,
which is the stalk of the rice or millet plant. There is only one
layer of this straw, so that sun or rain can penetrate with ease.
These huts are very low, there being only just room for a man to
stand upright in the centre. At one end is a couch, made of a few
layers of sticks and raised two feet off the ground. The couch
is generally covered with grass mats and tanned sheepskins. The
entrance is by an opening barely three feet high, while, if the
ground is rough, it is usually covered with more grass mats. Fulani
villages are very dirty. The people live with their cattle around
them. In the daytime the young calves are to be seen tied up to a
stake at the front door, to prevent their following their mothers,
which are sent out to graze with the rest of the herd. At sunset
the whole troop return, when the village resounds with their lowing
and bellowing. When green fodder is dried up the cattle are fed on
the same straw of which the huts are made.
In all this country supplies are wonderfully plentiful and
cheap. Fowls can be bought for 15 cts.; eggs cost 10 cts. for four;
milk is about a halfpenny a quart; and a bullock can be bought for
20 francs. For this reason living is as inexpensive as anywhere
in the world, I should think, so long as the traveller lives on
local produce. Freight from the coast is so high, however, that
European stores are most expensive. Between Niafounké and Timbuctu
the French reckon that a loaf of bread, baked with French flour,
costs them 1 franc 50 cts. The French being great eaters of bread
grumble greatly at the cost of flour in those parts.
Five miles from Saraféré we had to cross a wide swamp by canoe.
On the other side of this water was a fair road, coming from the
west; this was the road from Niafounké to Saraféré, and this we
now followed till the town was reached.
Saraféré lies on the opposite shore of the River Bara-Issa, which
here is a couple of hundred yards wide. The river twists and winds
around the town in a curious manner, describing a curve resembling
the letter “W.” As the crow flies the distance between the outer
bends of the “W” cannot be more than a couple of hundred yards,
but by the river it must be fully five miles. The town itself
consists of a strange collection of mud-built houses, of rather
Moorish appearance. The streets are quaint, narrow alleys, winding
in an aimless fashion through the place. All the houses have flat
roofs, upon which the better-class citizens take the evening air.
Saraféré is called the Sister of Timbuctu, owing to the
similarity existing between the two towns. The inhabitants are
mostly Sonrhais, but the place is divided into quarters for Arabs,
Fulanis, Bambaras, Bosos and Tuaregs, all of which races are fairly
well represented. Besides all these permanent residents there is a
floating population of traders from all parts of Western Soudan.
Mossis from the south bring native cloths and kola nuts, chiefly
the product of the big market of Wagadugu. Moors and Tuaregs bring
salt and gum from the desert regions in the north. Sonrhais from
Djenné take spice and native peppers to Saraféré market, while
Hausas from Kano, to the east, bring beads, sham pearls and Kano
leather wares. This mixture of different races, talking different
languages, makes Saraféré market-place an interesting scene to
the European visitor.
The Resident’s house and those of the two French merchants face
the river, occupying a large space in front of the town. Here one
gets a foretaste of the desert winds. Clouds of sand envelop the
town during the months of March, April and May, making existence
anything but pleasant while the wind is blowing. The sand permeates
every nook and cranny of a house. The only thing to do is to shut all
doors and windows, enduring the heat in preference to being buried
in sand. The soil on the immediate banks of the river is capable
of producing good rice and millet, but away from the water it is
poor and desert-like. Long stretches of sand, with only here and
there a few dried-up shrubs or tufts of coarse grass, characterize
this rather forbidding-looking land.
The Sahara has, indeed, invaded the right bank of the Niger, not
content with the havoc it has wrought along the left bank of the
river. Much of the country in the “Bend” bids fair to develop
into desert in the course of time unless these terrible winds can
be checked. Nature opposes no obstacle to them, as the land is so
flat, almost uninterruptedly from the southern slopes of the Atlas
Mountains across the whole of this portion of Northern Africa. But
I am rather digressing, for that part of my story belongs really
to the description of the country near Timbuctu and the other side
of the Niger.
There are two kinds of canoes on the Niger, the “Djenné”
and the “Niger” canoe. While I was at Saraféré I had ample
opportunity for watching the building of the latter kind of
craft. The whole material for the canoe is produced from the dum
palm. It is interesting to observe the uses the different portions
of that tree can be put to in the manufacture of a canoe. As the
dum palm is practically the only tree found in the country it is
fortunate for the natives that it has so many varied uses.
A canoe made of this palm cannot be constructed out of one piece,
as a dug-out is hewn from a single tree trunk. This is not possible,
because the trunk of the dum palm is of small diameter, and several
trees must be utilized to make a single canoe. Most canoes are made
of six separate portions of the wood, sewn together, but of course,
the number of pieces required varies with the size of the craft to be
built. The first operation is roughly to hew the different parts of
the frame into the required shape. The tools used are an instrument
resembling a chisel and an iron-headed hammer. These tools are of
native make, forged roughly by a native blacksmith, so hardly the
most suitable for the work they are required to perform. However,
ever, the result is not by any means bad, doing great credit to the
skill of the workmen. When the portions of the body have been shaped,
they are placed together, being kept in position by logs of wood
propped against them. The next operation is to sew these portions
together. Holes are punched with a sharp-pointed instrument through
the pieces near their edges, the local rope being used to bind the
parts together by threading it through these holes.
The local rope is made out of strips of the stalk of the palm
leaf. These strips are plaited together until they form a kind of
withy, which is exceedingly strong and durable. The holes in the
frame are stopped up by taking as many turns of rope as possible
through them, but of necessity there is plenty of space left between
the stitches for water to leak through.
The next item is to stop these holes more effectively, for it would
be impossible to remain long in the water in a canoe which leaked so
badly as the unfinished article now would do. For this purpose the
leaves themselves of the palm trees are utilized. These leaves are
very fibrous in texture. This fibre is pounded up until it becomes
a stringy, yellowish mass, quite soft and easily manipulated. Small
bits of this stuff are poked into all existing crevices until no gaps
are discernible. It only now remains to smooth off the rough surfaces
of the canoe, and to put in seats, etc. Even the best canoes leak a
great deal, but a constant supply of the fibre referred to is kept
on board for the purpose of stopping the more serious leaks, and a
man is frequently engaged in baling out. These canoes rarely last
more than one year, but building is so simple and all materials so
near to hand that there is no great difficulty in building new ones.
The “Djenné” canoe is more elegantly shaped and much better
finished. There is no mistaking a “Djenné” canoe when seen on
the river. In actual construction the only difference is that the
Djenné people use wooden pegs to connect the separate parts of
the body together instead of sewing them. Canoes sixty feet long
are frequently seen on the Niger. They usually belong to a native
trader, or to a rich chief. They invariably are covered over with
native mats, forming an awning as a shelter from the weather. The
native canoe is of very shallow draught. I doubt if it draws more
than three inches. All the river people are expert paddlers and
polers. They will, if necessary, travel day and night without more
than three hours’ halt in the twenty-four, and will keep this up
for five or six days continuously. Canoes trade for long distances
on the Niger. They frequently ply between Timbuctu and Koulikoro,
a distance of nearly 600 miles. The Saraféré canoes usually trade
only with Timbuctu to the north, or Djenné to the south. While I
was at Saraféré several canoes came from Djenné bringing traders
with the produce of their country. The water in the river towards
Timbuctu happened to be rather low at the time I was at Saraféré,
so only small canoes were trading between the two towns.
[Illustration: BAMBARRA HUNTERS IN THE “BEND” OF THE NIGER
These men were my native trackers when I was hunting big game in
the Middle Niger Basin. The picturesque figure in the centre is
a splendid specimen of the Bambarra race. The horns strung round
his middle are not powder-flasks, but charms, to each of which
some particular virtue is supposed to attach, for these people are
steeped in superstition.]
The women of the place fashion clay pots out of the mud found on
the banks of the Bara-Issa. These pots are very simple in design,
but are useful as water coolers.
The finest men found in this country are certainly the hunters.
They are brawny fellows, of fine stature and hard muscles. Their eyes
are keen through long practice in following game, while their powers
of tracking are undeniable. In the course of my hunting expeditions
I came in contact with a good many of them, and one could not but
admire their strength and endurance. The hunters are nearly all
Bambaras, living in small groups in the different villages. They
exist entirely by what they can shoot; although I must own that
I was hardly impressed with their prowess with the gun. On one
occasion I recollect seeing my head hunter stalk a gazelle. I and
the other hunters were spectators from the fringe of some bushes
about two hundred yards away. The gazelle was quietly browsing in an
open piece of ground with little available cover between it and its
stalker. Nothing could exceed the skill with which he crossed the
intervening ground unperceived, until he had taken up a position not
ten yards from the animal, concealed by a friendly small shrub. It
was really a fine piece of stalking; it seemed almost incredible that
he could have approached so close unknown to his intended victim.
Breathlessly I watched the scene through my glasses, fully expecting
that the unfortunate little animal would be blown to smithereens
at such short range.
There was a deafening report, but when the smoke cleared I was
astonished to see the gazelle bounding away at the top of its speed
quite scathless!
The hunter did not appear to be much mortified by his failure,
so I could only suppose it was not an unusual occurrence for game
to be missed at such close range.
These hunters are all armed with old flint-lock guns, rather
formidable-looking weapons, but often more dangerous to the owner
than to the object fired at. They are five feet in length, with
barrels made out of old gas-pipes or anything that comes handy.
Missfires are frequent owing to indifferent powder, and the weapon
has to be fired from the hip as the recoil is so violent. The guns
are first loaded with a big charge of black powder, extending some
inches up the barrel. A piece of old cloth is then rammed down
to keep the powder in position. The shot comes next, consisting
of a varied assortment of stones, bits of lead, scraps of iron,
etc., the whole charge being rammed home with a piece of rag, and
extending three-quarters of the way up the barrel. The tendency
is for the missiles to fly high and scatter; but, if fairly aimed,
the damage done is considerable, as instead of inflicting a single
wound, possibly some dozen pellets strike the victim.
[Illustration: CANOES ON THE RIVER BARA-ISSA
Most of the inhabitants of the river-banks are occupied in trade with
Timbuctu, Mopti, and Djenné, or else are fisherfolk; consequently
they spend a great portion of their lives in canoes. These canoes
are roomy and provided with overhead shelters as a protection from
the sun.]
It was while I was near Saraféré that I got my lion. One afternoon
I heard news of a lion having been seen that morning, about fifteen
miles from my camp. He had attacked a herd of Fulani cattle, making
off with one of the cows.
I lost no time in setting out for the village nearest to the scene
of the “kill.” I rode off with a guide to show the way, leaving
my kit to follow me the same evening. That night I camped at the
village to which the cow belonged.
There seemed every prospect of my finding the lion the following
morning, for he would probably despatch his meal in his lair hard
by, and rest there to sleep off the effects for some hours.
Accompanied by my two hunters and a native who knew the spot, I set
out before daylight. We had to cross a stream which lay between the
village and the place where the cow had been killed. On the other
side was a sandy scrub country, dotted about with the ever-present
dum palms. These palms here grew in clumps, some of which were a
hundred yards in diameter, but the palms themselves were more in
the nature of bushes, and not more than twelve feet high. It was
beginning to get light, but the undergrowth in these clumps was so
thick that one could seldom see more than a few yards inside. These
clumps were the lair of the lion, although it was not certain in
which one he would then be found.
After tracking him from his “kill” for some distance, we
discovered the place where he had dragged the remains of his
victim. However, it was soon evident that he had since emerged from
there, and we now followed his pug marks of that morning, clearly
defined in the sandy soil. At last he was traced to a certain clump,
thicker than the rest, in which he certainly was lying. It being
impossible to see inside, the only plan was to try to frighten the
brute out. Accordingly I sent the beater and hunters to different
points, where, at a given signal, they were to commence to shout
and beat the bush with the object of driving him towards me. The
ruse succeeded in causing him to bound out of his hiding-place,
but unfortunately on the opposite side to me, so that I never saw
him. I dashed round to the far side and just caught a glimpse of
him disappearing towards another clump of palms.
Now ensued a curious race between us and the lion. I knew that,
should I lose sight of him for long, he would probably give me the
slip, for these beasts travel great distances when alarmed.
We accordingly pursued him at our best speed, until he was viewed
disappearing into another clump. Again he got away before I had
a chance of a shot. This race continued for another mile or so,
when I was decidedly winded and the perspiration streaming off me.
At last I came up with the beast, in a palm grove, and, cautiously
following his tracks into the bush for a few paces, I suddenly saw
him, in a more open spot than usual, about forty yards away.
He stood facing me, his splendid eyes glaring wickedly, while he
lashed his tail and uttered some low roars.
Here was a fine opportunity; so, raising my ·450 rifle, I fired,
and he dropped with a bullet through his head.
Keen as I was, I do not think I could have maintained the race
much longer, for I was quite winded and had some difficulty in
keeping my rifle steady as I fired; but the range was so close,
and I could see him so distinctly, that the shot was an easy one.
The lion of this country is not a handsome creature. The colour is
a pale tawny, and the animal is maneless. Moreover, it is my firm
conviction that he is an arrant coward. My own experience, and what
the Fulani herdsmen have told me, both tend to support this idea. I
have been told more than once of cases in which a lion had jumped
on one of the herd with the intention of killing and carrying off
its prey, but had been driven off by a single-handed Fulah armed
merely with a stick. It seems rather ridiculous that a lion can
be frightened off his victim, by thwacking him with a stick, but
there is no doubt that it has been often done by these people.
The Fulanis hold the lion in contempt rather than in awe, and,
I fancy, he only succeeds as a rule in securing his prey because
the herds are too large for one man to supervise.
These Fulanis, whom one meets so often in the Western Soudan,
are an interesting race of people.
They are certainly not of negro origin, for they have straight hair,
aquiline features, thin lips, and pale reddish brown skins. There is
a mystery about the land of their forefathers, but it cannot have
been in Western Africa. Some people say they came originally from
Egypt. To support this theory it is stated that the word “Fulah”
is a corruption of the word “Felah” of Egypt. Their appearance
is somewhat Egyptian also. On the other hand, it is not easy to
trace a close connection between their language and customs and
those of Egypt.
Many maintain that they came from the other side of the Red Sea.
Their own version of their history is exceedingly vague. Anyhow, it
seems clear that they came from the East, as they have left traces
of their progress from the East to the West of Africa. They are far
superior in intellect to the negro, having shown their superiority
by conquering all with whom they have come in contact. They are
essentially a pastoral people, whose chief object in life appears to
be to excel in the size of their herds. Their dwelling-places are
generally temporary ones, where they stay as long as the pasturage
is sufficient for their cattle. As soon as the grass gets poor
they shift their dwellings to more favourable spots. The Fulah
counts his wealth by his bulls and cows. All the money he makes is
laid out in increasing his stock. He has a wonderful knowledge of
cattle, and a marvellous power of calling to strayed animals. By
uttering some weird low cry they can recall their beasts even from
considerable distances.
Fulanis have made their way almost to the coast. They are found in
many places in small colonies, generally forming the cattle-owning
population of a place. The province of Futa-Jallon in French Guinea
is inhabited by them, otherwise they have no big strongholds until
the Middle Niger is reached. But from there to Northern Nigeria
they are found in certain places in considerable numbers. Except
for tending cattle they do no work themselves, being decidedly
indolent. The housework and any farm work are entirely done by
slaves, or servants. Slaves are well treated by them, and many
slaves stay with their masters in serfdom in preference to taking
their liberty, which they can do at any time they wish, by making
a statement to this effect before a French Commissioner.
The Fulanis are all fervent Mohammedans. Wherever there are Fulanis
there will be found a mosque. These people have shown themselves
able administrators in the places which they governed before the
advent of the white man. Their laws were just, while their method
of appointing civil administrators to the various districts into
which a country was subdivided was sound. It would be interesting
to know more about the past of these people, and it is much to be
hoped that further light may one day be thrown on their origin.