A Resident's wife in Nigeria

by Constance Belcher Larymore

CHAPTER I
The Home

This chapter is, of necessity, addressed chiefly to those who are permanently settled at headquarters, either Lokoja or Zungeru, as the Political Officer and his wife will, naturally, have to abandon all hopes of conveying household furniture, etc., to a far distant objective, owing to the great difficulty and expense of transport; the chapter on Camp Life will be found more useful by them.

The house itself is a wooden bungalow, or, at the out-stations, a native-built clay house; in either case it consists of four walls, a ceiling and a floor—and a wide shady verandah. In the distant out-stations, of course, there is no furniture at all, to speak of, except the camp outfit belonging to each official, which he carries with him, and which includes a camp bed, wash-stand, bath, one small table, one chair and a Lord’s lantern. But we are ‘getting on’ in Nigeria, and it is now found possible to do a little more for every one in the way of plain furniture at headquarters, so that I do not think any one need walk into an utterly empty bungalow nowadays. However, it is obvious that anything in the way of ‘home comforts’ must be brought out independently from England, as there is not even the opportunity, which occurs constantly in India, of buying second-hand furniture from neighbours on the move.

Fortunately, very little is needed: I should advise investing in a few wicker chairs and light tables either at Madeira, or at home; they are no trouble to bring and are very cheap. It is worth noting that the faster line of steamers do not always call at Madeira now, so that, unless one is certain of calling at the Canaries, it is wisest to bring wicker furniture direct from England.

A few yards of a pretty, light chintz or cretonne can be converted into chair cushions, stuffed with native cotton, and will furnish a room amazingly. It is well, too, to bring out some lengths of cheap muslin, coloured or white, as fancy dictates, for curtains, etc. A coarse kind of muslin can be bought locally, and, when faintly dyed with indigo, it becomes quite a pretty pale blue, very cool-looking, and can be constantly renewed when faded. A barrel, containing a small outfit of crockery and glass, makes one quite independent of the local stores, which, at most, may be able to replace breakages—after a fashion! A supply of enamel paint will enable you to give quite an ‘air’ to the rough shelves which can be made locally, beside lengthening their lives considerably. For the floor, nothing is nicer or cheaper than an Indian dhurri or cotton carpet, but, as the bungalows are all fitted with linoleum, no more is really needed than a few of the artistically coloured grass mats, made chiefly at Bida, and found almost everywhere; they cost about three shillings each, rising to six shillings, according to the distance from Bida, and are quite delightful. No one could fail to be pleased with the brightly coloured native cloths, or to find them useful for covering rough ugly tables and unsightly deck-chairs, and for making portierés, etc. You will also find Bida brass-work of a highly decorative sort, charming, quaintly-shaped little burnt earthenware jugs from Ilorin, carved wooden stools, boasting of from ten to twenty legs—cut from one solid block of wood—from Ibi, queer carvings from away down south of Kabba, the brilliantly tinted Hausa leather work, fashioned into cushion covers, bags, purses, and an endless variety of articles, and carved and ‘poker-worked’ calabashes, etc., all of which will help to cover the walls and give the room a home-like, or, at least, an occupied look.

At Kano, we lived in a great vault-like apartment in the Residency (formerly the Emir’s summer palace), and though, at first, it presented an appearance of utter gloom and desolation, an extraordinary improvement was effected in a couple of hours by an improvised sideboard, boxes piled up to serve as tables, and covered with gaily-coloured cloths, the pinky-red walls decorated with sketches and prints, a few gorgeously hued Japanese paper wall hangings scattered about, and the clay floor covered with grass mats.

The walls of a wooden bungalow are usually of boarding, either painted white or a horrible ‘duck’s egg’ blue, or else varnished a rather dark and monotonous brown, so the whole room will need colour as much as possible. A few pictures are an immense help in decorating, and, nowadays, such beautiful and artistic framed prints can be bought so cheap, it would be well worth while to bring out half a dozen. Of course, if you sketch yourself the problem of wall decoration is solved; polished brown boards make a perfect background for water-colour sketches, unframed, but placed in gilt mounts, so that all you need is a packet of tacks and a hammer. If you cannot do your own sketching, make a point, before leaving England, of pillaging those among your friends who do; no one, I think, could resist a pathetic appeal for a pretty sketch to carry away into far Africa! And, indeed, it is a joy sometimes, when the temperature is unpleasantly high, little worries abounding, and Africa asserting itself unduly, to be able to glance occasionally at a sketch of some English woodland, or a corner of a picturesque village.

My writing Table. ([p. 198])