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.