CHAPTER XXVII
INCIDENTS ON TREK—(continued)
Information and advice in West Africa—Different men, different manners—Ritz by comparison—A Samaritan by the way—Dried streams—Primitive transport—A visitor from Rhodesia—Omitting anti-fever precautions.
The last stage of these months of trekking presented one of those questions of distances which different persons solve in various ways. The start was from Jos and the destination Rahama, 48 miles. The journey could not be divided into three stretches of about 15 miles each, if for no other reason than that I was not to leave Jos until 4 p.m., in order that I might transmit from mind to paper the impressions and reflections collected, get them in the post, and thus be clear to gather more as I went along. It was plain, therefore, that, to cover the ground within three days, on one day a long march must be made, as the position of rest-houses did not allow more equal averaging.
Which day did not matter much. It was largely a case of personal preference, and I mention the subject to show how men’s advice differ as to what you should do in West Africa. There is seldom lack of advice and information, on ship or ashore. The only element doubtful is whether the advice is reliable.
In Northern Nigeria—these parts, at least—that does not apply. Opinions, however, vary. One man counselled an entire rearrangement of the programme in the sense of leaving Jos very early in the morning, doing 23 miles that day, 15 the next, and winding up with an easy 10. Another urged me not to overdo things, and rather to make a four days’ time-table than to court being knocked up by too much exertion in the hot season. It is well to respect experience; nevertheless, some things must be decided by the individual affected. It may be he should avoid risks, and it may be that risks which ought not to be invited at an earlier period, when a breakdown in health would be a serious derangement of plans, should not have the same influence as a deterrent towards the end, when the main portion of the work has been done.
I elected to act on my own devices, to put the longest march to the last, and I determined to get through by Sunday. The governing motive in not being later was the desire not to delay at Rahama. Only one train a week was scheduled, and as I did not know which day it left, or the hour, by reaching railhead on Sunday the chagrin would be avoided of arriving a few hours after the train had gone.
It was seven o’clock and dark by the time we had done the nine miles from Jos to Gurum. The carriers had been told that the stay for the night would be at the rest-house there, but, instead, they made for the Anglo-Continental Mines Camp, which is about ten minutes’ walk from the rest-house. On seeing the mistake which had been made, I hung back out of sight and sent the steward boy, who could speak a little English, to the camp to enquire the way to the rest-house. I did not wish to intrude, which I thought would seem to be if I appeared uninvited and unexpectedly when the evening meal was due.
The steward boy returned with a message that “The white man want you.” I knew who the white man would be, so the steward boy was sent back, as though I had not understood, with the reiterated request to know what path led to the rest-house. After a few minutes there came from the lighted bungalow and through the darkness “the white man.” It was Mr T. H. Driver, one of the most lovable characters on the tin fields. He had been ill and could not walk without trouble, though he had the aid of a stick; yet he must undergo the effort to invite almost a stranger to food and better shelter for the night than the rest-house afforded.
He then had swept out an unused shed, with cement floor, brick walls, and iron roof. It seemed a Ritz Hotel in luxury by comparison with another place of recent memory. In the shed my camp-bed was put up and to it I retired with thankfulness after dinner with Mr Driver and his staff.