The Land of Fetish

by A. B. Ellis

and then see how he feels at the end of the performance.

We crossed the Oki river by a felled silk-cotton tree, and stopped at Sutah, or, as the natives call it, Fittah, in the middle of the day for breakfast; after which epicurean meal Colonel Justice and the Commissariat officer went on, while I waited for the invalid, who, as he knew how to treat himself, would be able to go on as soon as the sun lost its force. About 4·30 p.m. he was pretty well and we started off; the sunlight faded imperceptibly into moonlight, and with no casualties worse than occasionally staking ourselves on the stumps of trees left standing from three to four feet high in the middle of the path, we reached Yancoomassie Assin about 9 p.m.

Through our delay at Sutah I made a discovery as to which portion of the twenty-four hours is the most suitable for travelling in the bush. As travelling during the heat of the day renders one liable to “touches” of the sun and heat apoplexy, most Europeans in West Africa who have to go anywhere start at an unearthly hour in the morning, before it is light, and then go on until ten or eleven o’clock, when they breakfast. In my opinion this is a mistake. All night long a heavy dew has been falling, and as you walk, or are carried along, showers of dew-drops fall upon you from the overhanging trees, sufficiently heavy to make you wet and give you a chill; then, as the sun begins to gain power, all kinds of exhalations and noisome vapours rise from the rank and wet vegetation, and various overpowering stenches salute the olfactory nerves, while for the last two hours of your journey you are baked in your hammock. Now none of these things are conducive to health in such a climate as that of West Africa, and they might all be avoided by travelling, say from 4 p.m. to 9 p.m., when the sun has been drying the forest all day and drawing up the miasma, while no dew to speak of has begun to fall. Should there be no moon, a native torch, made of dry palm-stems, can be manufactured anywhere in a few minutes; and the only objection I have ever heard urged against choosing this time for journeying is that it is not pleasant to enter a village, and have to choose a hut to sleep in and prepare the evening meal, so late; but this is easily reduced to a minimum by sending on your boys an hour ahead of you to prepare for your arrival. It is not as if there was anything to be seen during a trip to the bush, for few people, who have not experienced it, can understand the loathing with which one regards the endless monotony of the forest, through the dense rank vegetation of which one moves on day after day, as if between two lofty walls of foliage, without seeing a single glade or break in the sameness. Of course I refer here to the feeling of those accustomed to the country, for to a newcomer there is a certain amount of novelty, and consequently interest, in such scenes.

The number of villages which have sprung up along the Prah road since the close of the last war is surprising, and evinces a feeling of security on the part of the natives of which their minds would have been sadly disabused had the Ashantis followed up their hostile declaration by vigorous action. All these might, from a negro point of view, be described as thriving, as a few acres of ground round each had been cultivated, and some of them could boast of considerable plantations of plantains; but of course very little more is grown than is actually required for the inhabitants themselves. Passing through a village one is again immediately swallowed up in the mantle of the forest for an hour or so, until another group of huts relieves the eye like an oasis in a vast vegetable desert. Water abounds, and the fertility of the soil is marvellous; inhabited by any other race of man this country would surpass the whole world in agricultural wealth, but, as it is, it is lost to mankind, and there is every probability of its remaining so, as it is hopeless to endeavour to induce a negro to work. If some energetic Governor would only introduce sanitary reform and Chinese labour, the Gold Coast would soon become very different to what it now is; but the motto of all previous administrators, except perhaps Governor Maclean, seems to have been “Apres moi le déluge.”

We left Yancoomassie Assin about five in the morning of the 14th, and, breakfasting at Barraco at noon, approached Prahsu about 4 p.m. As we drew near we could hear the “boom boom” of trade muskets keeping a straggling fusillade ahead of us, and the hammock-men began to grow nervous, while our servants commenced complaining because we had not allowed them to bring rifles with them. We had not the remotest idea of what was taking place, but as no reports of rifles were heard in reply we concluded it was nothing of hostile import, although a Houssa sergeant whom we met informed us that it was Ashantis who were firing.

Passing through a gap in the fence which inclosed the camp we found the men of the Houssa Constabulary drawn up in two lines, facing each other, as if waiting as a guard of honour for somebody; though as there were very few men, only about ninety in all, an interval of five or six yards had been left between every two men, so that they might take up more ground and make a more imposing show. We thought at first that it was a polite attention on the part of the Governor, and that these men were drawn up to receive the officer commanding the troops, but we soon found out our mistake; they were paraded for the reception of that omnipotent African potentate the king of Adansi, who was now crossing the river, and the reports of whose retainers’ muskets we had been hearing.

About an hour after our arrival the king and his followers crossed the river in safety, and, entering the camp, proceeded between the two so-called lines of Houssas towards a bamboo and palm-leaf palaver-shed which had been erected in the centre of the camp. Altogether there were one hundred and fifty of them, consisting of the king, chiefs, and dependents, fifty of the latter carrying muskets, and the rest the usual barbaric state utensils, viz., swords, umbrellas, pipes, stools, fans, fly-whisks, and chairs covered with brass nails. There was not so much native goldsmiths’ work exhibited as is usual on such occasions, and the silk of the tent-like state umbrella was very dirty and much torn, which seemed to denote that his majesty’s exchequer was not in a flourishing condition.

I thought I might as well hear what would be said, so I walked towards the shed, where I found the Governor’s retinue sitting placidly upon rum-kegs, which were standing on end, placed in rows behind a Madeira chair intended to support His Excellency’s frame. The Adansi rabble faced this at a little distance, while to the left were Enguie, Busumburu, and the Elmina chiefs, who had come up from the coast to swell the official following. I shook hands with a few friends, appropriated a rum-keg, and sat down too. Presently a whisper ran through the retinue, and all stood up with blanched faces and uncovered heads, and gazed with an aspect of the most profound respect towards a little dwelling of sticks to which our backs had been turned. I looked round to see what was the cause of all this apprehension, and perceived the Governor coming slowly towards us, supported by his favourite disciples.