The enterprising traveller, Mungo Park, was employed by the African
Association to explore the interior regions of Africa. In this
hazardous undertaking, he encountered many dangers and difficulties.
His wants were often supplied, and his distress alleviated, by the
kindness and compassion of negroes. He gives the following lively and
interesting account of the hospitable treatment he received from a poor
negro woman:
"Being arrived at Sego, the capital of the kingdom of Bambarra,
situated on the banks of the Niger, I wished to pass over to that part
of the town in which the king resides; but from the number of persons
eager to obtain a passage, I was under the necessity of waiting two
hours. During this time the people who had crossed the river carried
information to Mansong, the king, that a white man was waiting for a
passage, and was coming over to see him.
"He immediately sent over one of his chief men, who informed me that
the king could not possibly see me until he knew what had brought me
into this country, and that I must not presume to cross the river
without the king's permission. He therefore advised me to lodge, for
that night, in a distant village, to which he pointed, and said that in
the morning he would give me further instruction how to conduct myself.
This was very discouraging. However, as there was no remedy, I set off
for the village; where I found, to my great mortification, that no
person would admit me into his house.
"From prejudices infused into their minds, I was regarded with
astonishment and fear; and I was obliged to sit the whole day without
victuals, in the shade of a tree. The night threatened to be very
uncomfortable; the wind rose, and there was great appearance of a heavy
rain. The wild beasts too were so numerous in the neighborhood, that I
should have been under the necessity of climbing up a tree, and resting
among the branches.
"About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the night in this
manner, and had turned my horse loose, that he might graze at liberty,
a negro woman, returning from the labors of the field, stopped to
observe me; and perceiving that I was weary and dejected, she inquired
into my situation. I briefly explained it to her; after which, with
looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told
me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted a lamp,
spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the
night.
"Finding I was very hungry, she went out to procure me something to
eat; and returned in a short time with a very fine fish, which, having
caused it to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper.
The rites of hospitality being thus performed toward a stranger in
distress, my worthy benefactress (pointing to the mat, and telling
me I might sleep there without apprehension), called to the female
part of her family, who had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed
astonishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton; in which they
continued to employ themselves a great part of the night.
"They lightened their labor by songs, one of which was composed
extempore; for I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of
the young women, the rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air was
sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these:
'The winds roared, and the rain fell. The poor white man, faint and
weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk,
no wife to grind his corn.' _Chorus_: 'Let us pity the white man; no
mother has he to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn.'[1]
"Trifling as these events may appear to the reader, they were to me
affecting in the highest degree. I was oppressed by such unexpected
kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning, I presented to
my compassionate landlady two of the four brass buttons which remained
on my waistcoat; the only recompense it was in my power to make her."