A Resident's wife in Nigeria

by Constance Belcher Larymore

Boots must be fairly solid as to soles; the soil of West Africa seems to have a specially destructive effect on English leather. In Sierra Leone, for instance, the soles are worn out in a few weeks, though in Nigeria things are not so bad; for while in Sierra Leone, I walked because I loathed crawling in a hammock, here, with ponies, walking is not a bit necessary. Still, it is impossible to get boots resoled, so as to be wearable, therefore do not economize in this direction, only remember that all your foot-gear must be constantly worn or it will spoil. Blacking boots are only a vexation, they always seem sticky, and dirty one’s hands and skirts; I should recommend a stout, really stout, pair of tan laced boots for heavy walking, about half a size larger than usual, a lighter pair for ordinary wear (tan buckskin is delightfully cool and soft for the dry weather), and a couple of pairs of walking-shoes of tan or black glacé kid. It is useless to lay down anything definite, as people use their feet so differently; some are hard on boots, while others can wear them for years apparently. Of course, boot-trees have a good deal to say to the longevity of foot-gear, and, now that such light ones are to be had, three or four pairs would not be too many. I have heard it said that walking-shoes are dangerous on account of snakes, but they are far cooler than boots, and one really does not have to pick one’s way among snakes as a rule, and I have always found them a pleasant variety. About indoor shoes you will, of course, decide for yourself; I think perhaps they wear out quicker than at home—mine do, at all events, but my incessant perambulations in the garden, stables, etc., may have something to do with that! They should be glacé kid, not patent leather, on account of coolness.

Riding-boots ought to be tan, and a very easy fit; I have been told that stiffened canvas uppers and tan-leather feet constitute delightfully cool riding-boots, but I have no personal experience of them, and think one can hardly improve on good tan leather: I have never desired anything cooler, even in a Punjab hot weather. A little toilet powder sprinkled inside makes them much easier to pull on.

Mosquitoes do not deal more gently with us here than they do elsewhere; all the men wear long loose boots, made in this country, of Hausa leather; they are an absolute protection, and, if somewhat too clumsy for a lady’s wear, as a rule, they are exceedingly useful in camp. For ordinary use, a pair of black canvas gaiters, buttoned and reaching to the knee, can be worn over ordinary evening slippers. They are so neat as not to be noticeable at all, and are an absolute protection when mosquitoes are numerous and hungry.

So much for your outer woman. At the end of this chapter, I am giving a list of what appears to me the least possible supply of clothes to make you comfortable, and, bearing in mind that it takes two months to get additions out from Home, even to Lokoja, and much longer up country, you will doubtless agree that it is best to be independent. You will want a large quantity of underclothing, and, first of all, you must decide for yourself about the solidity of vests, etc. I cannot suggest hygienic principles, as I never practise them; do as you are accustomed to do, as that appears to make for comfort. I met one lady in Africa, who told me she wore merino combinations, because, having worn them always in England, she felt cold without them—and this in a mean temperature of eighty or ninety degrees!

I think perfect comfort and happiness can be found in fine cambric or nainsook combinations, or spun-silk vests and cambric knickers. I rather doubt the desirability of washing-silk under-garments, chiefly because the art of laundry work is in its infancy, and the silk shirts that I have had washed have returned distinctly hard and harsh. But the main point, in a climate like this, is to have enough of whatever you decide to wear; you will probably change everything two or three times a day, and washing is not done here in a day or two, as it is in India. Let everything be of the thinnest texture, compatible with bad washing. The Lahman underwear is excellent in its thinnest qualities, and is invariably praised by those who wear it.

A supply of old underlinen to wear on the voyage and throw overboard is invaluable; I dislike nothing more than arriving at one’s destination with a bulging soiled-linen bag, and an uncertain prospect of getting it converted into clean clothes. On the way home this is quite a simple matter; after twelve months in the hands of the gentle African laundry folk, most of your underlinen will be fit for nothing else!

At least six pairs of corsets are necessary, the coolest kind obtainable, certainly, but I can assure you that to leave off wearing them at any time for the sake of coolness is a huge mistake: there is nothing so fatiguing as to lose one’s ordinary support even with a view to being ‘comfy,’ Always wear corsets, even for tête-à-tête home dinner on the warmest evenings; there is something about their absence almost as demoralizing as hair in curling-pins!

I should avoid expensive and ‘faddy’ varieties of underclothing. I remember when I first went to India, I was induced to buy, at a guinea each, four night-dresses of some special mixture of silk and wool, which, I was told, would be ‘ideal wear’ for the Red Sea and other warm localities. Perhaps I am hopelessly prejudiced against anything resembling flannel, but I thought them horrible, and after enduring one for half an hour, they were all stowed away, to be presented to my ‘ayah’ at the first opportunity. If you think fit to wear a kamerband at night (a distinctly prudent proceeding), a yard or two of white flannel, simply torn into lengths about eighteen inches wide, and worn outside the nightdress, answers the purpose better than anything else; the nights are almost invariably cool, and usually breezy towards dawn.

With these few hints, aided by your own common sense, I think your outfit is sure to be successful and satisfactory, and your comfort and dainty appearance assured; so I need say no more, except a word or two on the subject of a sun-hat, which you must have, no matter how much your artistic feelings may rebel against it. Be sure it is large enough, for the part that needs most protection is the back of the neck, and no helmet-shaped ‘topi’ will give you real shade there. I like best the spreading, mushroom shaped wide-brimmed hat, which will fit well down over back hair and all, so that hat-pins and chin-strap can be dispensed with. A grey hat, with a grey silk puggaree looks—well, as nice as a solar topi can be made to look! With this and a couple of simple straw or Panama hats, you will need no more; the appearance of the latter can be varied by different ribbons and scarves to relieve the monotony.

If you have any favourite kinds of scent, soap or powder, bring them with you; scent and powder are not to be bought here, of course, and one’s ‘very own’ soap is a delightful small luxury everywhere. I should like to say a word for ‘Papier poudre.’ It is the greatest boon in a hot damp climate, which gives a tendency to greasiness to the best complexions, and does far less harm than the use of powder; moreover, it never leaves white streaks on nose or cheeks, even if you pass the little, scented, absorbent leaf over your face without a mirror.