CHAPTER XV
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.
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.
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.