West African studies

by Mary Henrietta Kingsley

“Go and bring her up; do not be afraid.” He looked at me as much as to say you will be afraid when I do bring her up. Presently he appeared with a child in his arms, such a sight I never shall forget—almost starved to death, and covered with marks where she had been burnt with fire-sticks. This poor little thing, after wandering many days in the wood, at last found her way to our house. She was too ill to have anything done to her that evening, so I had a bed made for her in the sitting-room, close to my door, so that I could hear should she get frightened in the night. The little thing woke up many times, but was soon off to sleep again when I had patted and spoken to it. The next day we had her seen to, the steward boy set about and made her some dresses, and after a warm bath and plenty of food, in a few days the little girl was the life of our house. The poor little thing had been left without father or mother, and had become dependent upon an uncle, or some other relative, who had ill-used her in such a terrible manner that he had left her for dead. How she ever found strength to get to our house was almost a mystery.

After being with us for twelve months, some other relatives laid claim to her, and as I was just leaving for England, I allowed them to take her, but not without making four or five of the principal chiefs responsible for her welfare. She will now be a grown woman, but will look back upon those happy months with pleasure, I feel sure.

Another incident may be of interest—quite a change of scene—showing you how you may be as kind and as good to a people as it is possible to be, yet you must always be ready to defend yourself at a moment’s notice, which will be seen from the following circumstances. We had been troubled for some time past with night robberies, not very serious at first, but they became more frequent than I cared about. I gave the matter serious attention, but we could not trace the thieves, do what we would; the strange thing was, that as soon as a robbery had been committed, a native, a sort of half slave, was sure to be seen about the beach putting on what seemed to me a sort of bravado manner; but, of course, he never knew anything about the people who had been tampering with the premises, and he always appeared to be surprised to think that any one should do such a thing, but at last matters came to a climax; our plantain trees had been cut down, and a whole lot of fine plantains stolen, as well as a lot of wire fencing. I was vexed to the extreme when this dastardly work was brought to my notice. But what was my surprise, no sooner had my lad reported the matter to me, when along walked the very man I have just described, looking as bold as brass. Said I to myself, “If you have not done this stealing you know something about it, and you will have to give an account of your movements before you leave these premises.” So I sent orders to have him immediately put under arrest, which was done, and he was given to understand that until the thieves, whoever they were, had been brought to justice, he would have to remain under arrest.

This was an unexpected blow for my friend, but he proved one too many for my people. He managed to get the best side of his keeper, and slipped; next morning we had no prisoner, the bird had flown. I knew he would work no good for us in the villages, neither did he; he went from village to village, right through the Eket country, telling the people the most dreadful things, and the most abominable lies, of what had been done to him the short time he was our prisoner; so much so, that he got the people quite furious against me and my people. Just as an agitator will work up strife in England if he is not checked, so it was with this man; he got every village to declare war against me. This went on for three or four days, until he got them all to concentrate themselves. They were all brought one night to within a quarter of a mile of our establishment; here they had their war dances all night, yet I did not think there was any likelihood of their attacking us. Still, for a couple of days things did not appear right, the people seemed strange in their manner; so I thought it not wise to be caught napping, and I made some preparations for an attack if we were to have one, and had the Gatling gun placed in position at the rear of the house. This I felt was quite enough to defend the house, if I could but get a fair chance to use it, although I was in hope I should not be called upon to do so.

We had not long to wait, for at 5.30 in the morning after a continuous beating of drums all night, I got up and walked out on the verandah, which was my usual custom, not thinking we were going to be attacked, but when I looked round, the wood and bush seemed to be alive with people, and some of them were already advancing towards the house, while one chief, more daring than the others, came on near enough for me to speak to him. Seeing this unexpected development of affairs, and the suspicious look of my friend near at hand, I called to my boy, who was near, to bring my revolver, and no sooner had the chief got within twenty paces or so of the house, when I called upon him to stop and tell me what was their mission so early in the morning. He said they had come to talk over the matter of the man I had imprisoned. But I said this is not the time of day we usually talk over matters we may have in dispute—the afternoon being always the recognised time. “Yes,” said my friend, “but we want to settle matters now.” “All right,” I said, and with that I held my revolver at his head, and ordered him to stand, and not move an inch, or I would shoot him dead on the spot. The people at the back, seeing what was taking place, began to move towards the house. I said to my boy, “run to the beach and tell Mr. Sawyer to come up.” This was my coloured assistant, whom I knew I could trust. The lad was away, and Mr. Sawyer at my side before the people had got too near. “What am I to do, sir?” “Take this revolver and hold it to that man’s head, whilst I jump to the Gatling; if he moves, shoot him down.” There was not half a move in him, and in a moment I was at the Gatling. By this time there was a general move forward from all parts of the bush, but no sooner did this black mass see I was at the gun, and determined to fight or die, quicker than I can write these words, I saw the whole body fall back in dismay. There was my opportunity. I jumped from the Gatling, went straight to the people, and demanded of them what they wanted to do. Their answer was—“We don’t know; we are a lot of fools, and we have lost our heads; send us back, we have no business to come to fight against you, and we don’t want to.”

By seven o’clock that morning the trade was going on in our establishment as though nothing had happened. This little incident I have always described as a bloodless battle, won in a few moments; yes, in almost less time than it has taken me to write its description. This matter we finally settled, after holding a large meeting with all the chiefs and people. The laws of these people are very definite; you must have absolute proof of a person’s guilt, before you can even accuse him. I had to sit as judge over my own case, which was rather an unfair position for one to be placed in. But as the laws are definite it was simple enough to decide. The question was—“Had I any proof that this man was one of the thieves, or in any way connected with the affair?” I had not; my evidence was purely suppositional. This ended the matter. I was in the wrong, therefore I had no alternative but to put a fine upon myself, which I did, and was very pleased to end what had nearly cost me my life, and probably also a number of my people. After this affairs went on merrily at Eket.

There was a place called Okon some few miles up the river from Eket, and here I proposed to start another establishment, so had made all preparations at Ibuno for that purpose, and left the latter place with my boat, people, provisions and materials. We arrived at Okot overnight, intending to sleep there, as it was the nearest beach to Okon. All went well until the next morning, when we were preparing to start. My factory keeper at Okot came to me in the most serious manner possible, wanting to know if I really meant going to Okon. I said “Certainly, we have come up for the purpose.” “Well,” he said, “I think you had better not go; there are very nasty rumours about here that it is intended to do you some harm if you should attempt to open up at Okon; in other words, men have been appointed to take your life.” “All right,” I said; “we must take our chance; we shall not turn back until we have tried.” So away we went, I in a small boat with a few boys, the others in another boat with the etceteras. We arrived at Okon and landed our goods, but we found a number of Ja Ja’s people had arrived before us. I took no notice of them any more than passing the time of day. However, I must confess [I did not like their demeanour.] Nothing was said and our provisions were safely housed in a native shanty. Here I intended to remain while building our own house. The timber, iron and other goods were placed on the spot we intended to occupy. This done, I started off with a couple of boys to acquaint the king and the people of the village of our arrival, and to get the king or some of his chiefs to come down and allot me the land I required. We had been in the village some little time, and matters were well-nigh settled, when all at once there was a general stampede from the meeting house, and just at that moment I heard a regular fusilade of guns, and in came running one of my people from the beach, nearly frightened to death. “Massa, massa, come quick to the beach; Ja Ja’s men have burnt down the house and want to shoot us all, and all our [goods are in their hands.”] By this time a lot of Ja Ja’s men were in the village, and I was left absolutely alone with the exception of my own boys and the one that had run up from the beach. Every native had rushed to his compound as soon as the firing had commenced. I turned to my boys, told them not to fire, but to keep cool, do as I told them, and be ready to protect themselves if any one attacked them, not else. So down we slowly walked to the beach. Here was a sight for me! All my goods thrown to the four winds, my house burnt to the ground, and about a hundred or more of Ja Ja’s or Opobo men arranged up in line, every man with his rifle and cutlass, ready to fight, which they evidently anticipated I should do as soon as I appeared on the scene; but this I had no intention of doing. To attempt to show fight against such odds would have been simply suicidal, so I made up my mind to show the best front possible under the circumstances, called my boys, placed them in equal numbers on either side of me, with our backs to the bush and facing our would-be enemies. I then inquired what they wished to do. Drawing my revolver, which was a six chambered one, I held it up. “If you want my life you may have it, but, FIRST, let me tell you, inside this small gun I hold six men’s lives; those six men I WILL have, then you may have me.” Not a word was uttered. Then I said, “If you do not want that, I and my people will leave you here in possession of these goods and the house that you have already partly destroyed.” With this I ordered my boys to the boats, to which we went quietly and in order, leaving our Opobo friends dumbfounded and baulked of the main object of their mission.

When we had got well clear of the beach I was thankful indeed, for never was a man nearer death than I was at that time, I think. We went down to Ibuno as fast as our boats could go, our boys singing as Kroo boys can sing when they feel themselves free from danger. I only stayed a few hours at Ibuno. As soon as the tide served I made right away to Old Calabar to lay the whole affair before H.M. Consul. After this I felt I had done my duty in the matter of the Opobo business. The affair was, of course, settled against the Opobos, and they had to leave the Okon beach to us absolutely.

I must not deal with the rough side only of pioneer life in West Africa, so I think I will just touch upon one of the many kindnesses shown to me by the Ibunos during these troublous times. The Qua Iboe bar, like many others along the coast, more so in this particular part, is very treacherous, being composed of quicksand. It is always on the move, so the channel changes from place to place. Sometimes you go in and out at one side, sometimes at the other, and sometimes straight through the centre. These moving sands require a great deal of careful watching and constant surveying, which I used to invariably see to and do myself about once a fortnight. While out on this work one day, with four boys and Mr. Williams, who at that time had a small establishment at Ibuno, and was as anxious as I was to know the true position of the channel, we were both working small sailing craft—we had not risen to a steamer then—(now there is, and has been for a considerable time, one working the same river), and started off, the weather being fairly fine, and to all appearances the sea very quiet. All went well with us going out. I got soundings right through the channel, and after passing safely we turned our boat about to come back into the river again. Along we came until we got right into the centre of the bar, then suddenly a sea took us, and before any one could speak the boat was over. We were under water and the boat on top of us. Being a good swimmer, I was not afraid, but immediately dived down and came up alongside the boat. My boys were round me like a swarm of fish, not knowing whether I could swim or not. I soon put their minds at rest and told them not to trouble about me, but to get everything together belonging to the boat and get her righted. This done, “Now,” I said, “if you will all keep your heads and do as you are told, we shall get the boat and ourselves through all right.” So we divided, three on one side, three on the other, and swam with the boat until we reached the beach, which was about a mile and a half distant, and I can tell you took us some considerable time. Before we landed we had been something like three hours in the water, which is no small matter anywhere, much less in West Africa, where one is not always in the best of condition. Mr. Williams got very frightened and, I think, was in doubt once or twice as to whether we should reach the shore; but we did, and were truly thankful, and although we did not openly show it, we gave none the less hearty thanks from our inmost hearts. After landing we righted our boat and paddled off up river to our factory. Here we arrived before any of the natives knew what had happened. Our boys soon put the news about, as they felt they had had a marvellous escape. Mr. Williams and I drank as much brandy as we could manage, then I jumped into bed and remained until the next morning. I believe he did the same too. At daylight I awoke and felt, to my surprise, as well as I ever felt in my life. Being so long in the water, I fully anticipated a severe attack of fever next day, but it wasn’t so, and I was about my business as though nothing had happened. I don’t think I should have thought any more about it had not the Ibunos so forcibly reminded me of the danger we really had passed through. After having so many narrow escapes this one appeared to pass as a matter of ordinary occurrence. Not so to them; the afternoon of the day after the accident, while I was out about the work, I saw an unusual number of natives going to the house, each little contingent carrying baskets of yams and fish. I had not long to wait before one of my boys came to tell me the Ibuno people wished to speak with me at the house. I went to them at once. Here was my dining room full of natives, and in the centre a pile of yams two or three feet high, and fish, the very finest that had been caught that day, as well as some very beautiful dried fish, enough to last me and my people, I should think, a month or more. This sight took me rather by surprise, not quite knowing what was about to take place. I took the chair which was placed for me and waited. All being quiet, one of the chiefs rose up and said, “We know you are somewhat surprised to see all us villagers here to-day, and also the food we have brought with us which is now in front of you, but we have come to tell you how sorry we all were, men, women and children throughout our villages, when we heard you had been thrown into the sea, and all had such a narrow escape of losing your lives. We are all the more sorry to think that not one of our people were able to render you the slightest assistance. Had we seen you or known what was taking place every canoe would have come to your aid, but we did not, and while we were sitting comfortably in our houses you were struggling in the water. To us this has been a grief, and to show you how thankful we are to think you have been preserved to us through this danger and many others, we have brought for your acceptance the best we can offer you. We are but poor, as you know, but these gifts come from our hearts as a present to you and a thank-offering to our Father in Heaven who has been pleased to restore you to us unhurt. We are, we must tell you, thankful in more ways than one for your deliverance, because had you been lost our great enemy Ja Ja would at once have said his Ju Ju had worked that it should be so.” With this he sat down.

For me to attempt to express what I felt at that moment would be impossible; I must say I felt a very unpleasant feeling in my throat, and I don’t know but that some of the water I had had too much of the day before was having a good try to assert itself. If it had, it was not to be wondered at; for any one would have to have been hard indeed if such kindness did not touch them; even the strongest of us are bound sometimes to give way for a moment. I did not attempt to hide from them the fulness of my heart, and the gratitude I felt for such kindness, where I least expected it. I told them I had not thought much of the accident, but I was thankful to think my life and my people had been spared, and I only hoped I should live to show them how their great kindness would ever be remembered by me, and would not be forgotten as long as life lasted. After general thanks our meeting broke up and ended, but has never been forgotten.