CHAPTER V
Faranah — The Malinkés — Castes — Big game on the Mafou River — Native methods of hunting — Trapping — Ground nuts — The native trader — Kouroussa — Native types — French gardens — Native dances — Beehives — Fruit.
BY the 22nd of January, the date of our arrival at Faranah, I had so far recovered as to be able to walk a few miles each day. My usual plan was to walk in the early morning until the sun got oppressive, when I retired to the hammock until about eleven. About this hour I used to halt in a shady spot, by a stream, and have my breakfast while the carriers cooked their food and rested. A halt till two or three o’clock gave my “boy” time to prepare my meal and to have his own food and a rest before we again set out. On one of these occasions, just after I had halted, I noticed the unusual spectacle of two Europeans in hammocks with a number of carriers coming towards me. One of the two proved to be a lady, while the other was her husband. They stopped, and we had a few minutes’ conversation. They were on their way to Kissidougou, a large French post in the south of Guinea. He was the director of the telegraphs, and they had but lately arrived from France. The lady had the characteristic vivacity and charm of her countrywomen; she was nursing a young bushfowl which they had picked up on the road, and which had hurt its leg. The poor little bird’s bright eyes wore a terrified look, but this soon began to disappear under the gentle treatment of its kind mistress. The lady had never been out of her native land previously, and was much interested in the strange sights of West African bush life.
Faranah is the first place of any size and importance on the Niger. It consists of a native population of about 2000, and a dozen Frenchmen. The native town lies in a hollow, close to the banks of the river, while the Residency and European quarter are on a hill above. Faranah does a small trade in rubber and cattle, most of which are sent down to the coast port of Konakry. There is a caravanserai, or rest-house, in the town. This useful construction is found in nearly every village of any size in French Guinea, and is a great boon to the traveller. The headman of the place is charged with the duty of keeping it clean, and as it is constantly inspected by a French official, the house is usually in the best of order. The houses at Faranah are built of mud, with walls about two feet thick, and thatched roofs. They are very cool in the hot weather, but are rather cold and draughty in the rainy season, when it is a good plan to light a fire in the middle of your room.
At Faranah I stayed with the French District Commissioner, who was a most hospitable and courteous host. Here I was delighted to be able to discard my hammock, as my knee was nearly healed. A two days’ halt was necessary to collect fresh carriers, and to get information of the shooting prospects in front of me.
My intention had been to march as rapidly as possible to Kouroussa, and strike eastward from that place into the Wasulu country, which lies between the Niger and the Ivory Coast. At Faranah, however, I was informed that there was some excellent shooting to be had on the Mafou River, a tributary of the Niger, which is crossed on the road to Kouroussa. I therefore determined to halt at this stream on my way, and sample the big-game shooting in the vicinity.
On the 24th, bidding good-bye to my kind hosts, I set out. The road follows within a few miles of the Niger, which here takes a north-easterly course. The country is rather thick bush, but is well populated. Villages occur every three or four miles most of the way. The people who inhabit this part of French Guinea are Malinkés, and they are dark of complexion and stoutly built. They are a higher type than the coast negro, having probably intermarried with the Fulanis, to whom they no doubt owe their more regular features and thinner lips. They are chiefly an agricultural people, but are not fond of work in any form. The majority of them are Mussulmans.
The king of the tribe is called the “Alimamy.” He has a large court, chiefly composed of his relations, who all expect to profit, either directly or indirectly, by their position. They are the channel of communication between him and his people. His council is composed of the headmen of the villages, and rich native traders. The council decides all matters of dispute with other tribes. The decision for making peace or war rests with them, and, in the event of the king’s death it is this body who elects the new Alimamy.
Villages are organized on the same lines, each village having a chief, assisted by his council of influential villagers. The tribe is divided into two portions, those who are free, and those who are captives.
The free portion of each tribe is again divided into five castes:
(1) The Horos, who are citizens.
(2) The Sohrés, weavers.
(3) The Garangis, or shoemakers.
(4) The Hrabis, or blacksmiths.
(5) The Yellimanis, or jesters.
The Horos are the only class from which chiefs and headmen can be selected. They are the predominant caste, and all the others are their menials.
Horos can only marry in their own class. The other people can marry amongst themselves as they please.
The Hrabis are looked on with great contempt, corresponding in caste to the sweeper class of India. It is uncertain what was the origin of this, but there is a story connected with Mohammed and a blacksmith which probably accounts for it. It is said that the Prophet was once pursued by some infidels, and concealed himself in the trunk of a tree near the spot where a blacksmith was at work. The latter was on the point of betraying Mohammed’s hiding-place when he was struck blind by God. Mohammed, when he issued from the tree, is supposed to have cursed the blacksmith and all his kind.
The Yellimanis are a very obnoxious class. They spend their time in abusing those who do not give them any money, while they sing the praises of their patrons. Every chief has an entourage of these jesters. They are often equipped with musical instruments, and form a sort of band which precedes him wherever he goes.
Families have always some animal which is their particular aversion, or evil spirit. It may be a lion, or leopard, or crocodile, or some such beast. For example, it is supposed that if a man’s evil genius was a crocodile, and he should eat some of this animal’s flesh, it would give him some terrible skin disease, such as leprosy.
The captives, or slaves, are of course not now officially recognized by the French. Any man who is a slave can at once obtain his freedom by applying to the nearest Commissioner. It shows how contented these captives usually are with their lot, when it is noticed that they very rarely ask to be made free. They are well treated, are not hard worked, and get free board and lodging. These slaves were taken from various tribes during the intertribal warfare which raged in this part of West Africa for many years. In most cases these people have quite forgotten the country of their origin, and are perfectly content to remain with their masters. A slave, when he has gained his freedom, can be permitted to join any of the above-mentioned castes, or may marry into any of them. His position is therefore superior to that of a Hrabi. The captive lives with the members of the family, and is in every way treated as one of them.
On the 26th of January I arrived at the Mafou River, where I had great hopes of getting some elephant. These animals were reported by the natives to come down here at this time of year. On the river there was a certain palm of which they were very fond. Native information is, of course, frequently the only kind available, but it is also far from reliable. The negro, when interrogated, will give the answer that comes easiest to him, and will usually say what he thinks will most please you. So I was far from placing too much faith in their reports. Having procured two native hunters, I sent them out to get news of the whereabouts of the elephant, and in the meantime decided to try my luck with a third hunter after waterbuck and kob, of which I had seen traces in the neighbourhood. The banks of the Mafou River are swampy and the ideal home of kob.
Here I managed to secure a fine beast, with the best head I had yet shot in West Africa. Pleased with my day’s sport I returned to my camp at the village that afternoon, hoping to get some good news from my hunters. I was therefore much disappointed to be told that the elephant had not been seen in that district for some weeks, and the tracks seen by the hunters were at least a month old. I had myself that morning seen elephant tracks, close to a place where they had evidently been in the habit of bathing in the Mafou River. These tracks were likewise some weeks old. As there seemed no prospect of elephant in the neighbourhood, I decided to follow my original plan of pushing on with as little delay as possible to the Wasulu country.
The next day I continued my journey to Kouroussa. It was always my custom to set out in the morning, just before daylight, and to have a start of about half an hour on my carriers. In this way one often got a chance of a shot at game while it was feeding within range of the bush path, and had not been disturbed by passers-by. I used to wear boots with noiseless soles, finding this a good plan for enabling me to approach without being heard. A bush path is a very sinuous affair as a rule, and it frequently happens that one suddenly turns a corner and comes in sight of game, quite as unaware of the proximity of man as you are of its presence. One morning, while walking thus ahead of my carriers, I suddenly espied a small duiker dart across the road, and was fortunate enough to get a snapshot at it before it disappeared into the bush. It proved to be a “crowned duiker,” a beautiful little animal, only fifteen inches high. This small antelope is of a bright yellowish fawn colour, with remarkably long and pointed ears. The tail was short and blackish, more like the tail of most oribis. The horns were very small and delicate, but this little beast is uncommon, so my delight at securing it was great; moreover, I had never before seen it wild. The habit of all duikers is to conceal themselves in the bush, consequently one does not often see them unless a drive is organized, and this to me always appears rather an unsportsmanlike procedure.
This little antelope derives its name “crowned” from the dainty crownlike tuft on the top of its head. The duiker probably falls a victim, more than any other kind of antelope, to the native hunter. His method of killing game is distinctly brutal. When the bush is ready to be burnt, a number of hunters collect together and proceed with the boys of the village to the scene selected for the sport. The hunters line up at a suitable place, on a path, down-wind. The boys are sent to drive the game in the direction of this path out of the bush. Their procedure is as follows: each person being equipped with a tomtom, an old tin, or some similar article capable of producing a noise, sets to work to make a tremendous din. At the same time the grass is set on fire. The unfortunate animals in the bush, scared out of their senses, dash the only way open to them, viz. towards the path on which are the hunters. As they appear, at a range of a dozen yards or less, they are received with a volley of scraps of old metal, iron nails and sharp stones, fired from the flint-lock guns of the sportsmen. The din is deafening, missiles are flying in all directions, and the carnage amongst the luckless little beasts is great. At the same time the shooting is decidedly wild, and it is a matter of congratulation that this is the case, for the slaughter is not so terrible as it would otherwise be. It is a marvel that these people do not often kill one another by their wild shooting. It is true occasionally a maimed native is seen who admits that he has been crippled in this manner, but on the whole the casualties are not so large as might be expected.
Baro Village in the Kouroussa District of French Guinea
The people of this district suffered very severely in the Sofa wars. King Samory spread fire and sword throughout the land, and carried off many of the people into slavery. The inhabitants of Baro have only returned and rebuilt their houses in recent years. They have the downtrodden, low-spirited nature of men who have lived many years in captivity.
Another favourite method of killing game is by trapping it. The ordinary form of trap is a long barricade of sticks and palm leaves, built up to a height of several feet. At intervals in this hedge there are narrow openings, with a running noose cunningly concealed on the far side. A drive is organized and the animals are frightened through the bush in the direction of this barricade. On finding the openings they naturally endeavour to escape by them, but are caught by the noose as they struggle through. Traps of this nature are set for birds, as well as other small game. These barricades are frequently built as much as a mile long. Yet another form of trap I have often met with is simply a pit, dug to a depth of six or seven feet, at the bottom of which is planted a stake, having the sharpened end sticking vertically upwards, ready to impale the unfortunate animal which falls upon it.
The pits are usually covered over with leaves, and are thus invisible to the unsuspecting victim. These snares are often as dangerous to strangers as to game, on account of this invisibility, and it is dangerous to wander in the bush of a hunting country without a local guide. On one occasion one of my porters strayed away from camp after dark. In the morning he was not forthcoming to carry his load when all was ready for the start. A comrade suddenly recollected that he had gone towards the bush the previous night, and it transpired that he had not since been seen. Search parties were at once organized and despatched in search of him. After some time they returned with a very pitiable-looking object, whose clothes were torn, and whose nether garments were smeared in blood. This proved to be the lost carrier. He had fallen into a hunter’s pit some distance from camp, and all his cries for help had not been heard. Fortunately he was more frightened than hurt, and certainly profited by his experience, for he never wandered into strange bush again!
We had now left the belt of oil-palm country behind. The chief product of this district was rubber. The rubber is here the product of the rubber vine, and is seen in some quantities growing in the bush. But the majority of the rubber of French Guinea is grown in the east of the colony.
In the farms one notices particularly rice, maize and ground nuts. The latter is a pretty little plant with a small yellow flower. The nuts themselves grow on the roots in the ground, something after the fashion of a potato. The fruit is ripe after the plant has flowered. On one plant will be found as many as fifty nuts. They are much relished as a form of diet by the native, while the oil of the nut is a valuable thin oil, much used in Europe for making fine soaps, scents, and as a dressing similar to salad oil.
In the bush it is of the greatest use as a lamp oil, but must first be purified by straining through a thin cloth. For about three months I used nothing else, and found the light as good as that of a kerosene lamp.
The trader one encounters in the bush is the native trader, called the “Dioula.” The European trader is only met with on the coast, or in the biggest markets of the interior. The term Dioula merits a word of explanation. These people are supposed to have originally been wandering Mohammedan merchants, but now the term applies to any travelling trader. The Dioula is a very thrifty individual, usually commencing life in a most humble way. He probably leaves his village with only a few francs in his pocket, which he exchanges at a suitable opportunity for some article of commerce, such as salt. He then travels a bit nearer to the coast, exchanging his salt for rubber or perhaps ground nuts. This process he continues, constantly bartering one article for another, until he finally reaches the coast. Here he purchases cloth, or some such European goods, and works his way back to the interior, bartering as he goes. These traders often accumulate quite big fortunes by their keen business instincts.
Kouroussa lies on a bare open plateau, overlooking the Niger. It is the centre of the district of the same name, and is increasing in size and importance daily. The cause of its growth is the Guinea Railway, emanating from the coast port of Konakry, and destined to reach Kouroussa in a very short time. The total length of this line will be about 400 miles. The object of the railway is to tap the trade of the Futa Jallon region, and the fertile country on the banks of the Niger. As the Niger is more or less navigable from Kouroussa for canoes and quite small lighters, this will also open out a line of communication from the interior of the Soudan and French Guinea to the coast.
When I arrived at Kouroussa I went to pay my respects to the Commissioner. I found him contemplating a ruined building with a rueful eye. It was all that remained of his house. When I had introduced myself to him he proceeded to explain that the previous night his house had been burnt to the ground. The act was attributed to the spite of a native, who had been punished by him for some misdemeanour. Unfortunately it was difficult to collect proof against the man, and it appeared as if he would escape from the hands of justice. The people of this town are a strange mixture of several tribes. At or near this point three great races meet—the Susus, from South-Western Guinea, the Malinkés, from the south of the colony, and the Fulanis, from Futa Jallon, in the west. The consequence is that a hybrid race formed by the intermarriage of these different clans has sprung up. The natives are perhaps a higher class than the ordinary negro of Guinea. They inherit from the Fulanis a finer type of features, thinner lips and more aquiline noses. Their hair, however, remains woolly, and stamps them as undoubtedly negroid. They are chiefly agriculturists. Some, however, are cattle-men, owning considerable herds. They are distinctly lazy; this, perhaps, is hardly to be wondered at, as their country is fruitful and it needs but little work to get a living out of the soil. Besides, a man need only gather a small quantity of rubber in the bush to gain a livelihood.
At Kouroussa the French officials have a fine garden. Almost every kind of European vegetable is grown by them. The garden is personally supervised by one of the officers, who has a large number of native gardeners under his orders. From one year’s end to another they are never without some sort of vegetables. The garden is planted on the banks of the Niger, so that a constant supply of water is available. There is also a well-stocked fruit plantation, where one can enjoy a variety of tropical fruits such as oranges, pomegranates, bananas, etc. The French show a particular aptitude for gardening, and it was a point which struck me very forcibly that in almost every station where there was a European, a good garden would be found. On one evening of my stay at Kouroussa I witnessed the interesting and rather weird spectacle of a native dance. This particular dance was performed by some young girls, to the accompaniment of much tomtoming and cheering from the assembled throng of admiring onlookers.
These girls were dressed in short skirts, much resembling a ballet-dancer’s skirt, but made out of a sort of bulrush very common in these parts. The bodice was a brightly coloured native cloth, twisted gracefully round the breast and waist. On the head was worn a bonnet of plumes of various hues. We were escorted to the place of honour by the side of the chief, who then clapped his hands as a sign for the performance to commence. The spectators were thronged in a circle round him, many being provided with tomtoms and musical instruments of all descriptions.
At the given signal the dancers dashed into the ring, joining hands and advancing with a graceful swinging step towards the chief, the tomtoms all this time playing a slow measure. The music gradually became faster and faster, while the dancers increased their pace in unison with it. Turning and twisting their lithe bodies, they now retired, at every step the music waxing faster and their pace becoming more frenzied. This performance was repeated many times, until the pace was so rapid and the dancers had got so exhausted as to no longer be able to keep time with the music. At this moment they flung themselves on the ground before the chief and the tomtoms simultaneously ceased beating. It appeared evident that it was now we were expected to show our appreciation of the skill of the dancing-girls, so we rewarded each one with a small coin, after which they retired. Similar dances were executed by individual girls; in several cases they displayed remarkable agility and grace in their movements. The spectators were untiring in their tomtoming and applause, and it was evident that this dance was a most popular one.
Dancing is a very favourite amusement among West African natives. Every tribe has its special dances, some of which are far from graceful according to our ideas. There is, however, an undeniable fascination in seeing these weird black figures leaping and pirouetting in their picturesque costumes, with the strange glow of the firelight casting mysterious shadows on them as they move backwards and forwards.
In the vicinity of Kouroussa the natives keep a number of beehives. These hives are frequently seen stuck up in high trees. They are made out of reeds bound in the form of a hollow cylinder, having the ends closed with plastered mud. One of these mud doors has a hole in the centre, providing an entrance and exit for the bees. The negro has a great liking for sweet things, so a quantity of this honey is consumed. Before it can be eaten by the European it must be strained through a piece of muslin, as it is exceedingly dirty. When properly cleaned, however, it is excellent.
Wild fruit is scarce, and in any case should be partaken of with great caution, as there are several poisonous varieties. There is a kind of wild plum which is fairly common in this part of French Guinea and has a pleasant flavour. Occasionally wild bananas and pawpaws are met with; they almost invariably indicate the site of an old, abandoned village.