A Resident's wife in Nigeria

by Constance Belcher Larymore

The servants do the washing, in a rough and ready fashion, so that many changes are absolutely unnecessary, especially as the items are not “got up” at all, and can be washed and dried in an hour or two.

It is useful to have one extra tin case, not dedicated to any special purpose: it acts as a sort of overflow box, and, indeed, one usually finds it overflowing. One or two favourite books, sketching, or photography, butterfly catching, and a small but “lasting” piece of needlework, will amply fill up your leisure hours in camp. I remember a friend of mine in India worked a quantity of very beautiful point lace during a shooting trip in Kashmir; she used to sit on a box and stitch, while the camp was being pitched and struck. Personally, I find, as a rule, that after the inevitable preliminary arrangements and luncheon, a change and a rest, a couple of sketches, and a stroll through the village, tea-time and twilight come long before I am ready for them.

The camp kitchen requires a little special arrangement, and both mistress and cook will have to employ their utmost ingenuity to prevent all the culinary operations from being conducted on the bare ground. The cook will not grumble, he rather enjoys squatting on his heels, balancing pots and pans on a pile of blazing wood, and surrounding himself with a charmed circle of feathers, egg-shells and onions. But as long as he sees that all his implements are thoroughly cleansed and scrubbed—and one need not go far to find sand in Africa—there need be no real uncleanliness, however primitive the conditions; indeed, I always find my camp kitchen far more accessible than the one at headquarters, where a dash has to be made across a scorching compound at each visit. Many a simple cooking lesson have we jointly given, in the open air, under some shady tree, seated on boxes, wrestling with a wood fire in a light breeze. A wide smooth board, scrubbed spotless every day, makes quite a useful kitchen table, placed across two provision boxes; one side being kept, scrupulously, for bread-making, etc., the other used for operations involving meat, onions, etc. Another detail that requires the mistress’ assistance is a camp meat-safe—a few yards of mosquito netting or muslin, and the frame of an old umbrella, will solve the difficulty at once. The muslin must have a drawstring at the top and bottom, and the birds or joints hung on to the ribs of the open umbrella, which swings gracefully from the nearest tree.

For light, you cannot improve on the “Lord’s” lantern, issued by Government: it gives a splendid light, and travels in its own case, which also contains a canister, holding kerosene; this latter, however only carries enough oil for about a fortnight, so it is necessary to take a tin of kerosene as well. It is not wise to economize much over oil, for a light should be kept burning all night where you sleep. We usually carry also an excellent little lantern, fitted for candle or lamp, and are therefore never condemned to that ‘dim, religious light’ which is so conducive to most irreligious exclamations, when the master falls over a gun-case in the dark, or wants to read a paper.

During our last leave we had made, to our own design, a small arrangement, which, from personal experience, we can recommend most strongly. It is a light wooden box, measuring about 18 in. × 14 in. × 7 in.; with a hinged lid, lock and key. Inside it is lined with padded baize, and divided into compartments, containing, respectively, a pair of candle lamps, four glass globes, two punkah tops, and a box of candles. This box travels everywhere in perfect safety, and is an endless comfort: amongst other advantages, it saves the inconvenience of placing a heavy “Lord’s” lantern on a small camp dinner-table, which always seems to attract instantly every flying pest for a radius of fifty miles at least. Moreover, during more than six months of almost incessant travelling, only one globe has been broken.

The actual marching will, of necessity, and from choice too, be done in the early morning, but if possible, when making the first start, let it be in the afternoon, a short march of only an hour or two (this is nearly always possible from any large centre), getting to your camp well by daylight. This is essential; the carriers will not be accustomed to their loads, they will all squabble and fight for the lightest ones, and, even did you purpose a morning start, an early one would be an impossibility. Then, on arrival in camp, no one knows where to put anything, and there is certain to be much to arrange and alter, for the West African servitor will, for the whole of your trip, place each chair and box exactly where he planted them that first evening, so be warned and, on that momentous occasion, insist upon having everything placed exactly where you hope to find it every day for the next few weeks—so much comfort depends on this. If you are accompanied by a military or police escort, the tents will be pitched without any difficulty; but otherwise, I fear that a little trouble and patience must be expended in teaching the carriers this most important accomplishment.

But do not lose heart, and feel miserable and disappointed, if things are rather in a muddle, the servants slow and unmethodical, the carriers disposed to dump down their loads anywhere, and disappear into the village. Take the word of a fairly old camping hand, things will be better to-morrow, and better still the day after. Meantime, a kettle can be boiled in a few minutes, and, though you are probably fatigued, yourself, after much packing, and perhaps a longer ride than you have taken for some time, a cup of tea will make a wonderful difference. The mistress, who, after half an hour’s rest for every one, gets up cheerfully from her comfortable chair, saying brightly, ‘Now then, Suli, or Mohammadu, I am going to help you,’ can reduce chaos to order and comfort in no time, and will find her servants willing to assist; for, as I have said before in this chapter, cheerfulness is infectious, and nowhere more so than amongst Africans. I have often seen a crowd of sullen, angry faces suddenly break into happy, childish laughter, moved by one well-timed joke.

Speaking from my own experience, I can only say that I consider the carriers to be a much maligned set of folks; they are very easy to deal with, and after the first march, there is never a dispute—except, of course, over ‘chop’—the carrier fraternity would wrangle in Paradise over the possession of half a yam. I have known most of them by name; on one long tour they used to come and say ‘Good-morning’ with broadest smiles, and, even after long and trying marches, they would go out into the bush, entirely on their own initiative, and collect bunches of flowers for ‘Missis’ to decorate her tent and dinner-table with. Their affectionate impulses went so far as to induce them to rifle birds’ nests and bring me the fledglings, until I had to be severe about it. A little sympathetic attention to their various ailments and wounds, makes them consider one as a valuable ally and friend.