Undoubtedly this atmosphere of the Past which hangs so closely about Kano remains there because the town so long lay out of the way of the ever-hurrying feet of that advancing, engulfing “civilisation” of our age which is the ruling “God” of the white man in his own land, whereso ever that be, or in any other land that he has fallen heir to through the honourable, or mayhap—be it whispered—dishonourable enterprise of a bygone grandparent.
It was as late as 1902 that the white man came before the gates of Kano, demanding admittance, and since the aggressors were the great “Bature,” and had many rifles (a few arms collectively are invariably construed as many by timid, untaught natives), the Hausa inhabitants, who were at discord with the Fulani, who were their masters at the time, and deserted by the cowardly Emir Alieu, forthwith bowed before Destiny with true Negro fatalism, and accepted British rule without serious dispute, and without making any kind of stout-hearted defence against the undermanned punitive expedition that was sent out at the time; a fact to their discredit, for they were in their thousands.
It would appear, from records, that the pact between conqueror and vanquished was a friendly one, and of such wisdom that the change of rule was not a drastic one and brought no tyranny; in fact, the hands of the Crown’s Trustees were laid so lightly upon the people in directing their administration, that they (the natives) lost none of their ancient characteristics or pride of race at the time of small beginnings of acquaintance with Europeans; so that almost up to the present day Kano remained to all intents and purposes completely native and original, and a great and powerful centre of the Hausa people and of Mohammedanism. It is at the present time that the careless breath of civilisation has swept inevitably—for it is useless to expect to gainsay Destiny—in from the South, and has cast a blight upon the simplicity of the natives, with unnatural consequences to their frail character.
In 1911 the Nigeria railway was laid down to Kano. In 1914—about six years ago—there was less than a score of Europeans within the British segregation about a mile east of the Hausa City, and at the time of my journey, early in 1920, somewhere about six score; the former a barely perceptible number amongst the vast native population; the latter just enough to have started the swing of the pendulum of commerce and speculation which already promises to change a fine old world that is rare to a new world that will grow commonplace. I treasure old things, as I fancy we all do, and therefore cannot refrain from regret when I see something that is dear totter on the brink of destruction—so often it cannot be saved by reason of circumstances or environment, and it goes out for ever, for the passing of the Old is just as inevitable as the coming of the New beneath the propelling will of Destiny.
The population of Kano is a fluctuating one, on account of the nomadic propensities of many of the people, and I think I am right in saying that there are on that account no exact statistics concerning numbers. There is said to be an average population of about 80,000 inhabitants in Kano, which dwindles to about 60,000 in the “off season,” and rises to about 100,000 in the height of the trading season, when ground-nuts are marketed.
The province of Kano, of which the City of Kano is capital, has a population of 2,871,236,[4] which is a much greater number than that contained within any other province in Nigeria, its nearest competitor having barely half that total.
Those few figures may serve to proportion the extent of the importance of Kano; but let me lay statistics aside henceforth, for I would fain wander back in random fashion within the old gaunt walls of the city and examine the quaintness and the rudeness wherever dust-lain mysterious lanes may lead me.
Within the walls of Kano the city is composed of thousands of diminutive hutments, which crouch low and are huddled together as if to gain each from the other strength, and companionship, and protection, which is indeed the intention in a land which suffers from the sting of driving, biting sandstorms, and knew in the Past the swoop of attacking enemy.
The huts, and the enclosure walls about them, are built with reddish clay-soil taken from pits in the neighbourhood, and, with the addition of water and plant fibres, kneaded into a plaster which, after it has been applied, sets very hard. Dwellings so built are cool and weather-worthy for the greater part of the year, but at the time of the Rains some damage is usually wrought by the heavy wash of water, and repairs are necessary thereafter.
In appearance the dwellings are stoutly built at the hands of patient, careful labour (for the natives are not a little skilled in their work), and, though they have seldom ornament of any kind, their simple lines and odd and primitive planning have an attraction, and a novelty that is peculiar, apparently, to the walled-towns on the northern borders of negro-land.