A Resident's wife in Nigeria

by Constance Belcher Larymore

These amiable people cherished undying resentment against the ‘white man’ in general; they claimed—rightly or wrongly—to have been unfairly treated by him, and, having sworn to kill the very next Englishman who entered their stronghold, they fiercely attacked a small military patrol, under a young officer, who, on hearing continuous complaints of the Semolikas and their behaviour from the neighbours all round, decided, with pardonable imprudence, to march through the place as an object lesson of superior force. The Semolikas did enough damage to the party to necessitate reprisals, and in October of that year an expedition left Lokoja to avenge the insult, accompanied by my husband. The force was entirely successful in breaking up the culprits’ fastness, and as the operations were specially interesting owing to the peculiar situation of the place, I will quote from the Resident’s official report of the attack.

‘... On Sunday, the 16th, we marched into Igarra, which is curiously situated, being on the opposite side of a narrow valley to Semolika; the inhabitants of both places are therefore always in view of each other from the summits of their respective hilltops, and sit by the hour watching each others’ movements—the distance being about three thousand yards. The people of these two places have never been friends, the Semolikas, owing to their hill being the more difficult of the two to climb, frequently raiding the Igarra farms, and, in addition to the farm produce, as often as not carrying away women and children. As they are known to practise human sacrifices, the Igarras are kept in constant dread of these raids, and, on markets being held at places in the neighbourhood, large parties arrange to pass along the road together, and are always armed.

‘On climbing to the summit of the Igarra hill, 1,750 feet, it could be seen what a very awkward place Semolika hill must be to ascend. The local formation of boulder-like smooth-topped rocks appears to have been rather concentrated in this particular mountain, and they rose, one after another, in constant succession, at gradients varying from almost the perpendicular, the thin silvery strip of colouring over the surface of these slabs showing the direction of the ascending path. The Igarras helped us tremendously, but still, when it came to asking for information about other ways of getting up to Semolika, the ignorance was too general to be credited, and I think that even then they were not too sure that the “white man” would win, and were he not to they might expect a bad time for long years to come from their old enemy! So, although much reconnoitring was undertaken, no better path could be seen. On reconnoitring parties approaching within earshot of the many observing points the Semolikas were continuously guarding, they would be received with shouts of defiance and derision, the question being always asked: “Why don’t you come and try?” etc.... The Semolikas were kept busy now, and could be seen improving sangars, or endeavouring to make difficult places still worse.

‘Finally, it was decided to advance on the morning of Tuesday, the 18th, and on the night before, at 8.30 p.m., the gun detachment carried out their gun, in order to commence the ascent of the Igarra hill, from where it had been decided to cover the advance. Although this hill is not so difficult as Semolika itself, still, no ordinary leather sole and heel could ever hope to reach its summit, and it was with wonder and admiration that I watched the manner in which the Igarra people turned out in their hundreds on this cold and drizzling night, to help to get the gun to its destination. At places they, accustomed as their toes have apparently become to cling to smooth surfaces, suffered severely, and at two points in particular one could only describe their manner of handling by comparing the gun to a heavy beetle being carried off by a vast company of ants! It was at one of these places that Captain Phillips, who was commanding the detachment, had, with admirable foresight, arranged for drag-ropes, hold-fasts and corresponding paraphernalia, but our eager allies would brook no delay, and, literally falling on the gun and its mounting, ran the heavy loads up the sides of this precipice by sheer force of keen desire. After three hours’ hard climb, at each resting interval of which the streamingly hot volunteers were most affectionately patted on the shoulders by gunners and permanent gun carriers alike, with many “Sanu’s!” to denote their admiration of the herculean task, the selected ledge of rock was safely reached, and the gun duly mounted. Heavy rain set in about 2 a.m. and without bedding or shelter of any kind, the conditions were not pleasant.

‘The main body was supposed to leave camp at 3.30 a.m. which would enable them to arrive at the foot of the Semolika hill at dawn. One of the worst places where it was thought opposition might prove most effective against our side was about one-third of the way up, and was marked by three palm trees. Some strong sangars had been built, and the natural features of the place certainly presented the most fearsome difficulties. It was hoped, therefore, that the gun would succeed in clearing this trap, and facilitate the advance for the attackers; from about 4.30 a.m., therefore, every effort was made either to distinguish our own men commencing their climb, or the enemy concealed in the heavy undergrowth which was interspersed among the rocks. Unfortunately, there was a thick mist after the night’s wet weather, and this handicapped the gunners to a very great extent. At 6 a.m. the first Dane gun boomed out, reverberating among the rocks and hill-side, and almost immediately after a break occurred in the veil of mist, showing some hundreds of the enemy, scampering, veritably like monkeys, from ledge to ledge, from boulder to boulder, making their way to their various points of vantage, in order to assist in the defence of their virgin stronghold. A very well-judged shrapnel was fired at this moment, and, I think, must have checked the enthusiasm of some at least of the defenders, who could be seen hurriedly scuttling back. Could this have been repeated, the attackers would have been much less opposed, except, of course, by the natural existing difficulties which beset the path, the chief of which, was, I believe, regarded by the Semolikas as their pièce de résistance, which was most thoroughly emphasized personally, in my case, as it was while clinging to an eight foot ledge, struggling in vain to get a foothold, that a Dane gun was fired from most uncomfortable proximity! A long pointed boulder, impossible to climb, terminated at the so-called path, which, at this place, consisted of a narrow ledge close to, and under the point of, the boulder. The defenders had ingeniously built up from this ledge, and thus most effectually shut an apparently natural entrance gate to the hill-side. At short distances away were stone sangars in well-selected positions and, had they been occupied by a more modernly armed enemy, I fear our casualties would have been very heavy. The drop to the right from the ledge was considerable, but a small, loaf-shaped foothold happened to be protruding some feet down, and this was the only means of proceeding onward. A hurried one-legged balance had to be made upon its surface when the ledge beyond had to be smartly clutched. On parting with the perch, it was occupied by a native, who, by pushing upwards, succeeded in precipitating the climber, on his face, on to the higher level, once again in comparative safety, and thus every one had to take his turn!

‘The higher level was a vast sheet of smooth rock, 100 to 150 yards in length, sloping at a very steep gradient, and offering another deadly opportunity to the modern firearm. But the Semolikas, at this place, were content with stones only, and were not, apparently, good shots with these missiles, for though many were more or less hurt, only one man was struck in the face. After this, the defenders retired, firing continuously, until the king’s quarter was reached, where a further determined stand was made—and where Lieutenant Galloway received a wound. This was their last combined effort, and for the remainder of the day only desultory firing took place by people hidden here and there in caves and behind rocks. A zareba was formed in the best place available ... an attack being expected during the night, but nothing happened, the rain possibly damping the enemy’s ardour, as well as his ammunition! For the next few days every endeavour was made to discover the whereabouts of the fugitive Semolikas, but without success, although acting on supposed reliable news which was frequently brought in, the hills for miles around were diligently searched by our troops....’

Meantime, knowing what I knew of the Semolikas and their rocky fortress, I spent an anxious and miserable time in Lokoja, waiting for news of the result; I also said good-bye, with much regret, to Mr. and Mrs. Wilmot, of the Bank of Nigeria, who left for England. For two whole years Mrs. Wilmot had remained in Lokoja, with only a few days’ change, occupying the smallest and most uncomfortable quarters, making acquaintance with most forms of discomfort, but ever cheery, energetic and plucky, an object lesson to us all, and though I knew I should miss my friends greatly, one could not help rejoicing to see their well-earned holiday come at last.

My husband hurried back to Lokoja a day ahead of ‘the Army’ and delighted me with a few curios he had secured for me at Semolika. One special treasure is worth describing in detail; it was, I believe, the Chief’s own stool, and consists of a solid block of mahogany, black and polished from long use. The base is solid, and the seat upheld by roughly carved kneeling figures, while the centre portion is a pillar, having four doors which actually open and shut, turning in clever little sockets, and revealing recesses inside, the whole thing being, as I have said, one solid block of wood, without a join or addition anywhere. The cutting of those little doors is a great delight to me, and I have never seen among the many stools I have collected, another at all like it; indeed, the servants were so impressed with the odd arrangement that nothing would induce them to open the doors, suspecting Ju-ju, and they greatly disapproved of my doing so!

For the next few weeks life drifted quietly along, the monotony relieved by a passing visit from General Kemball, and very sadly, later on, by the death of ‘Binkie,’ our dearly-loved little fox-terrier. His devotion and faithfulness to the last was very touching; when he was too ill to walk, he would painfully and slowly drag himself down the steps, across the gravel, and lie, exhausted, at the gate, his head between his paws, watching the Resident’s office with wistful eyes for the return of his beloved master. Over and over again I carried him back to his basket, only to see him persistently make his way out again.

I remember finding in the Spectator some lines headed, ‘Modie, a fox-terrier,’ and with the name altered to ‘Binkie,’ I have kept them tucked away in my mind ever since. I will make no further apology for quoting them here, beyond the hope that the author, ‘G.W.F.G.’, will accept as a tribute the comfort they gave to a heavy heart; any dog-lover who has not seen them before will love them as I do, and the unfortunate person who is not a dog-lover will simply—skip them!