West Africa, as some of us have known her, is rapidly changing. Within the memory of most men, there were deserts uncrossed, forests unexplored, tribes of people unknown. To-day every desert has been traversed; to-day we know not only the forests, but nearly every species of tree they contain; we know, and can locate, almost every African tribe, and almost every foot of territory has passed under the control, for the time being at least, of some alien Power.
At the present moment political boundaries are more or less fixed, but for how long? In Europe certain Powers are, for one reason or another, seeking opportunities somewhere for colonial expansion, and the moment seems opportune for a reshuffle of colonial possessions, but where, and how?
Looking into the Far East, the statesman sees nothing but trouble ahead in the Celestial Empire, to say nothing of Japan standing sentinel over the Orient. South America, with its vast resources and possibilities, might fall an easy prey to an energetic Power, but over every Republic, Monroe casts his protective declaration which, with the march of time, fastens itself ever more firmly upon the vitals of the body politic of the Republican States of South America.
Back to Africa, the searching eye of the statesman returns and rests to-day. There in the Dark Continent are great territories awaiting development, there weak administrations are “muddling along” doing themselves no good, and their neighbours irreparable harm. For those Powers the hand-writing is on the wall; they must either “get on, or get out,” otherwise “like a whirlwind” some other Power will come and without ceremony bundle them out of the path of progress.
In fifty years the map of Africa will bear little resemblance to that of to-day, but what of the natives? Are they to have no voice in their destiny? One listens with impatience to the cool and calculating discussions for a re-arrangement of the map of Africa, which are being carried on without any reference to the native tribes, without any reference to treaty obligations, and with little respect for the fundamental obligations of Christianity, the teaching of which the European Powers claim as their special monopoly.
Commerce, too, is changing; the kind-hearted merchant of West Africa going forth at his own charges, trudging from village to village founding branches, paddling up and down the rivers and planting factories, is disappearing, and the soulless corporation with directors who are mere machines for registering dividends, are taking his place. Commerce in West Africa is rapidly losing all the humanity which was once its driving force.
The natives are abandoning the old forms of warfare. Denied the weapons which would give them equal chances in mortal gage, they are astute enough to refuse to accept mere butchery. They are learning that there are powers mightier than the sword; education is advancing by leaps and bounds, and the more virile colonies are producing strong men who will make themselves felt before many years have passed over our heads. The African is shaking himself free from the shackles he has worn for so long and is at last beginning to realize his strength. At present Britain, with all her shortcomings, leads the way in giving the native the fullest scope for his abilities. In British and Portuguese Colonies alone in West Africa has the free native the chance of attaining the full stature of a man. In German and French tropical territories, the native is there, not as a citizen, but merely as a necessary adjunct to the production of wealth for the white man. How long he will be content with this position is a question, and evidences of a coming change are everywhere apparent.
Soon the Africa we have known—yea, and loved—will have been hustled away. Its forests, rivers and tribes will possess no more secrets; gone will be the simple old chief; gone the primitive village untouched by European; gone the old witch doctor, and gone too, perhaps, that beautiful faith and trust in the goodness and honesty of the white man—the pity of it all!
Before these changes come, it behoves us to examine closely the great problems before us—the problems of future political divisions, problems of labour, and of education in the largest and fullest sense—and so to readjust our conceptions and laws with an understanding of the natives as save ourselves from repeating the blunders of the past; blunders which have cost Africa millions of useful lives; blunders which have indelibly stained for time and eternity the escutcheon of Christian Europe; blunders for which recompense can never be adequately made, but which at least should serve as a warning for the future.