CHAPTER II
THE NIGER DELTA
What is now known as Southern Nigeria comprises 77,200 square miles, and includes the whole seaboard of the Nigerian Protectorate, some 450 miles long, and the marvellous delta region whose network of waterways and surpassing wealth in economic products must be seen to be realized. Pursuing its southward course, the Niger, after its journey of 2,550 miles across the continent from west to east, bifurcates just below Abo into the Forcados and the Nun. This is the apex of the delta, and here the Niger is, indeed, majestic. From each of these main channels of discharge spring countless others, turning and twisting in fantastic contours until the whole country is honeycombed to such an extent as to become converted into an interminable series of islands. The vastness of the horizon, the maze of interlacing streams and creeks, winding away into infinity, the sombre-coloured waters, the still more sombre unpenetrable mangrove forests—here and there relieved by taller growth—impress one with a sense of awe. There is something mysterious, unfathomable, almost terrifying in the boundless prospect, the dead uniformity of colour, the silence of it all. It is the primeval world, and man seems to have no place therein.
Small wonder that amidst such natural phenomena, where in the tornado season which presages the rains the sky is rent with flashes only less terrific than the echoing peals of thunder, where the rushing wind hurls forest giants to earth and lashes the waters into fury, where for months on end torrential downpours fall until man has no dry spot upon which he can place his foot; where nature in its most savage mood wages one long relentless war with man, racking his body with fevers and with ague, now invading his farms with furious spreading plant life, now swamping his dwelling-place—small wonder the inhabitants of this country have not kept pace with the progression of more favoured sections of the human race. It is, on the contrary, astonishing, his circumstances being what they are, that the native of the Niger delta should have developed as keen a commercial instinct as can be met with anywhere on the globe, and that through his voluntary labours, inspired by the necessities and luxuries of barter, he should be contributing so largely to supply the oils, fats, and other tropical products which Western industrialism requires. Trade with the outer world which the merchant—himself working under conditions of supreme discomfort, and in constant ill-health—has brought; improved means of communication through the clearing and mapping of creeks and channels, thereby giving accessibility to new markets which the Administration is yearly creating—these are the civilizing agents of the Niger delta, the only media whereby its inhabitants can hope to attain to a greater degree of ease and a wider outlook.
The outer fringe of the delta is composed entirely of mangrove swamps, whose skeleton-like roots rise up from the mud as the tide recedes, and from whose bark the natives obtain, by burning, a substitute for salt. For untold centuries the mangrove would appear to have been encroaching upon the sea, the advance guard of more substantial vegetation springing up behind it with the gradual increase of deposits affording root-depth. Apart from the deltaic system proper, produced by the bifurcation of the Niger and its subsequent efforts to reach the ocean, the seaboard is pierced by several rivers, of which the Cross, navigable for stern wheelers of light draught in the wet season for 240 miles and in the dry for forty, is the most important. The Benin River links up with the deltaic system on the east, and on the west with the lagoon system of Lagos, into which several rivers of no great volume, such as the Ogun and Oshun, discharge themselves. So continuous and extensive are these interior waterways that communication by canoe, and even by light-draught launches, is possible from one end of the seaboard to the other—i.e., from Lagos to Old Calabar.
The mangrove region is sparsely populated by fishing and trading tribes. It is curious to come across signs of human life when you would hardly suspect its possible presence. A gap in the whitened, spreading roots, a tunnelled passage beyond, a canoe or two at the opening; or, resting upon sticks and carefully roofed, a miniature hut open on all sides, in which reposes some votive offering, such are the only indications that somewhere in the vicinity a village lies hidden. A visit to some such village holds much to surprise. Diligent search has revealed to the intending settler that the particular spot selected contains, it may be a hundred yards or so from the water, a patch of firm land where, doubtless with much difficulty, a crop of foodstuffs can be raised, and here he and his family will lead their primitive existence isolated from the outer world, except when they choose to enter it on some trading expedition. Further inland somewhat, as for instance, near the opening of the Warri creek (whose upper reaches, bordered with cocoanut palms, oil palms, and ferns, are a dream of beauty), one of the many off-shoots of the Forcados, where behind the fringe of mangroves the forest has begun to secure a steady grip, neatly kept and prosperous villages are more numerous. Their denizens are busy traders and there are plentiful signs of surface civilization. An expedition in canoes to the chief of one of these Jekri villages led us from a little landing stage cut out of the mangroves and cleverly timbered along a beaten path through smelling mud, alive with tiny crabs and insect life of strange and repulsive form, into a clearing scrupulously clean, bordered with paw-paw trees and containing some twenty well-built huts. A large dug-out was in process of completion beneath a shed; fishing-nets were hanging out to dry; a small ju-ju house with votive offerings ornamented the centre of the village green, as one might say; a few goats wandered aimlessly about, and a score of naked tubby children gazed open-eyed or clung round their mothers’ knees in affected panic. Beyond the ju-ju house a one-storeyed bungalow with corrugated iron roof and verandah unexpectedly reared its ugly proportions, and before long we were discussing the much vexed question of the liquor traffic over a bottle of ginger ale across a table covered by a European cloth, with an intelligent Jekri host, whose glistening muscular body, naked to the waist, contrasted oddly with the surroundings. These included a coloured print of the late King Edward hanging upon the walls in company with sundry illustrated advertisements all rejoicing in gorgeous frames. The walls of the vestibule below were similarly adorned, and through a half-open door one perceived a ponderous wooden bed with mattress, sheets, pillows, and gaudy quilt (in such a climate!) complete.
The deltaic region is the real home of the oil palm with its numerous and still unclassified varieties, although it extends some distance beyond in proportionately lessening quantities as you push north. No other tree in the world can compare with the oil palm in the manifold benefits it confers upon masses of men. Occurring in tens of millions, reproducing itself so freely that the natives often find it necessary to thin out the youngest trees, it is a source of inexhaustible wealth to the people, to the country, to commerce, and to the Administration. The collection, preparation, transport, and sale of its fruit, both oil and kernels for the export trade is the paramount national industry of Southern Nigeria, in which men, women, and children play their allotted parts. Beautiful to look upon, hoary with antiquity (its sap was used in ancient Egypt for cleansing the body before embalment), the oil palm is put to endless uses by the natives—its leaves and branches as roofing material, for clothing, for the manufacture of nets, mats, and baskets; its fruit and covering fibre in various forms for food (not disdained by the resident European in the famous palm oil chop), for light, for fuel. To the Southern Nigerian native inhabiting the oil-palm area the tree is, indeed, domestically indispensable, while its product represents something like 90 per cent. of his purchasing capacity in trade. How entirely wrong would be any attempt at restricting his free enjoyment of its bounties needs no emphasizing. The importance of the export trade in the products of the oil palm may be gauged by the returns for 1910, which show that Southern Nigeria exported 172,998 tons of kernels and 76,850 tons of oil, of a total value of no less than £4,193,049; and yet the capacities of the trade, especially in kernels, are only in their infancy.[3] Many districts, rich in oil palms are unproductive owing to inaccessibility of markets or lack of transport; in others which supply oil, the kernels, for sundry reasons, among which insufficiency of labour to spare from farming operations no doubt predominates, are not collected, although it is commonly reckoned that three tons of kernels should be available for every ton of oil. In considering these figures, realizing the future potentialities of the trade, and realizing, too, the truly enormous sum of African labour which it represents (every nut is cracked by hand to extract the kernel), one cannot but reflect upon the foolish generalities which ascribe “idleness” to the West African negro, whose free labour in this trade alone gives employment directly and indirectly to tens of thousands in England and in Europe, from the merchant and his clerks, from the steamship owner and his employés on land and sea, to the manufacturer of soap and candles and their allied trades; from the coopers who turn out the casks sent out from England in staves for the conveyance of the oil, to the Irish peasants who collect the stems of the common sedge shipped out to Nigeria from Liverpool for caulking these casks.
The bulk of the oil is exported to England (£1,191,000 value in 1909), but nearly the entire kernel crop goes to Germany, where it is treated by the big crushing mills. It is possible that this state of affairs may undergo considerable change within the next decade, and the reason for it is, incidentally, of considerable economic interest, as it is of moment to Nigeria. Up to within three or four years ago palm kernels were crushed and the oil almost entirely used by the soap trade, but chemistry has now found a process of refining and making palm-kernel oil edible, as it may, perhaps, do some day for palm oil itself, as a base for margarine, for which coprah and ground-nut oil were formerly employed. This has had as a consequence an enormous widening of the home market, and the soap trade has now to contend with keen competition for the supply of one of its staples. The resultant effect is the initiative of Lever Brothers (Limited), who, finding the need of enlarging and giving increased security to their supplies of the raw material, are, with commendable enterprise, erecting three large crushing mills in Southern Nigeria, the one at Lagos being already in a fair way to completion. If the numerous difficulties they will have to face are successfully negotiated, the ultimate result can hardly fail to be that of transferring the considerable palm kernel crushing industry from the banks of the Rhine to those of the Niger, besides creating a new export trade in oil cake from the Niger to England and the Continent.
CHAPTER III
THE FOREST BELT
Beyond the deltaic region proper lies the vast belt of primeval and secondary forest of luxurious growth, giant trees, tangled vines and creepers, glorious flowering bushes, gaudy butterflies, moist atmosphere, and suffocating heat. Beyond the forest belt again lies, with recurrent stretches of forest, the more open hilly country, the beginning of the uplands of the North. When an authority on forestry recently wrote that “British Columbia is the last great forest reserve left,” he forgot West Africa. That is what West Africa has continually suffered from—forgetfulness. The resources of the Nigerian forest belt are as yet far from being fully determined, but sufficient is now known of them to show that they are enormously rich. Besides the oil palm and the wine palm (which produces the piassava of commerce) the forest belt contains large quantities of valuable mahoganies, together with ebony, walnut, satin, rose, and pear woods, barwood, and other dye-woods, several species of rubber, African oak, gums (copal), kola, and numerous trees suitable to the manufacture of wood-pulp. Oil-bearing plants abound in great quantities, as do also fibres, several of which have been favourably reported upon by the Imperial Institute. The shea-butter tree, to which I shall have occasion again to refer, is an inhabitant of the dry zone.