‘A rare holiday’ we said, and so it proved itself, amply!
The next morning we were off early, and rode along through lovely park-like country, wide stretches of grass, picturesquely dotted with clumps of palms and light bushes, crossed by streams the courses of which are marked by a broad band of thick luxuriant foliage—like a dark green ribbon lying across the sunny plain of grass. I made delighted acquaintance with the Gloriosa Superba lily, not the magnificent apricot yellow climbing variety, but a more delicately regal one, with glowing crimson petals edged with gold, standing up among the grass, slender, tall and graceful. That night we had heavy rain, but our rest-house, mercifully, was watertight and very cosy, and we smiled contentedly, and promised ourselves a cool march for the morrow. And so we had:—it was a perfect day full of joyful discoveries, climbing beside the narrow path, like a sheet of flame, was Mussaenda Elegans in full bloom, two furry grey monkeys sitting solemnly on a rock, birds of wonderful blue, crimson and yellow, some scarcely larger than beetles, a tiny village tucked away at the foot of a little round hill, and, later, when we climbed the Shokko-Shokko hill, great clumps of pure white lilies, the bulbs of which were the size of a man’s head, as I discovered, when, afterwards, I bore one back in triumph to Lokoja. At Shokko-Shokko we celebrated my birthday with a dinner-party of two, and I cannot recall a cheerier or more light-hearted birthday in my life!
The following day, I had my first view of forest country: I had listened so often to my husband’s descriptions of the Ashanti forests and their dreary monotony, and I was ready to cry out to him that it was, after all, the loveliest thing in the world—though, later on, I quite came round to his opinion!
It is a rather specially beautiful piece of forest round Oduapi; the sunshine filters down pleasantly through the branches of huge trees and swinging creepers, on the thick undergrowth of bushes and ferns; there are acres and acres of pineapples, the smell of them rather overpowering, for they are such prickly souls that the natives gather only those which grow close to the path, while the rest rot in their hundreds; but the sickening scent attracts perfectly splendid butterflies—positive coveys of them, of all shapes, sizes and colours.
We passed a tiny farm, belonging to an ex-soldier, a Hausa; he and his family work the little homestead, and the acres increase year by year, I am glad to say! On this first visit he and his wife came out to greet us, and, with the simplest kindly hospitality, offered us of their best—kola-nuts and wild honey, both of which I ate on the spot, to their great delight. The honey was rather a problem, on a fidgety pony, with a twig for a fork!
The Chief of Oduapi, a most cheery old gentleman, with a loud and jovial laugh, came out to meet us, accompanied by his ‘suite,’ and I tried hard not to laugh—the caparisoned steeds were so quaint, and still more so their riders, picturesque in flowing gowns, made of velvet, originally of loud gaudy colours, but softened by time and exposure to perfectly artistic tones. Oduapi’s gown is always a delight to me, the blue has become the blue of Gobelin, and the green the softest of sage tints. Their dignity was sadly impaired by the head-dress of huge flapping straw Hausa hats, with leather strings—now perching rakishly, now pressed down, granny-wise, now flapping wildly half-way down the rider’s back, as his pony plunged and reared.
‘Kuka’ (Baobab) Trees. ([p. 14])
A Hausa Beauty. ([p. 19])