A Fine Head of Hair
A half-caste woman having her hair dressed. Girls of this class frequently possess most luxuriant tresses, of which they are inordinately proud.
Photo by
Miss M. Gehrts
Native Hairdressing
Most tribes pay great attention to dressing the hair. The better-class native girls usually have theirs dressed twice a week, and the operation is a tedious and lengthy one, frequently lasting for two hours, or even longer.
Next morning at 3 A.M. we were off again, and rode the next stage, a short one, to Djereponi. Here there is a rest-house, one of the old square Sudan stations. It is quite an imposing-looking place, and beautifully clean. Two square huts for sleeping in form one side of a hollow square, the other three sides being formed by the huts intended to accommodate the native dependents of European travellers. In the middle is a mess hut for the rainy season. During the dry season in Togoland, of course, as elsewhere in Africa, one eats invariably out-of-doors, usually under a verandah, if there is one, if not, under the awning of one's tent, or beneath a tree. Here there was a very fine broad verandah, and the roof came down very low, giving plenty of shelter and shade, very pleasant. All the buildings, and even the hard beaten clay floors, were coated with fresh native whitewash. This gave the place a beautifully cool and clean appearance, but I found the glare, when the sun beat down upon it, somewhat trying to the eyes. While we were resting here a soldier brought in five chameleons, which he sold to us for three-halfpence each. It was very interesting to watch them change their colour from grey to green, and back again to grey. They have large staring eyes, which they roll about in the most comical manner imaginable; and their slender tongues, when they protrude them to their full extent, are nearly as long as their bodies.
The next stage was to Nambiri, where also there is a very nice rest-house. The road was good, and we cantered or galloped nearly the whole distance. As a result we arrived at our destination a long way in advance of the carriers, who, after the sun rose, were unable to make very rapid progress. There being nothing to eat, I rolled myself in my horse rug, pillowed my head on my saddle, and fell fast asleep; when I awoke, some two hours later, there were still no signs of the carriers, and we were all three very hungry. Schomburgk sent the cook, who had come along with us on a bicycle, to forage round for eggs, and on his returning with a handkerchief full he boiled six of them hard and ate them without any bread or salt. Hodgson and I preferred to wait, saving up our appetites against what we knew was coming. Three hours after our first arrival in camp the first of the carriers came straggling in, looking very hot and exhausted. As luck would have it this advance guard was carrying the chop boxes, and we pounced upon them forthwith. We did not even wait for a wash, or for our chairs and tables, which happened to be behind, but squatted down just as we were on the mud floor, and enjoyed our tinned stuff better than a meal at the Savoy. First we devoured three whole tins of sardines, then we ate an entire pâté de foie gras, followed by a miscellaneous assortment of cheese, crackers, and candied fruit. Schomburgk rather looked with disfavour on these extravagant delicacies, having been used to more frugal bush diet on his previous trips. But I considered that now we were homeward bound we could afford to use up our reserve of luxuries.
And, speaking of luxuries, it was here that our personal boys had the feed of their lives. It came about in this way. At different places along the road I had bought a number of chickens, mainly on the strength of the assertions of the sellers regarding their unrivalled powers as layers, and these we carried with us in a big native coop, releasing them at the end of each stage in order that they might give free play to their supposed egg-laying proclivities. I write "supposed" advisedly, for with the exception of one little bird, who did her duty regularly by laying one egg at practically every place we stayed at, hardly one single egg did the others produce between the lot of them. Until we got to Nambiri! Then they laid no fewer than five. This was all right—if they hadn't chosen to lay them in my bed. Moreover, I did not discover the whereabouts of the eggs until I went to lay down at night, and then only through making an improvised omelette of them. Being new laid, fortunately, there was naturally no smell, but the mess was awful. I would not have believed that five small eggs—and African hens' eggs are exceedingly small—could have made one's bed in such a state, to say nothing of one's night attire. Next morning I gave away all my chickens—bar the regular-laying one—to our boys, who ate them that night for supper. I also told Schomburgk about my mishap, expecting him to condole with me. Instead he laughed himself nearly into a fit; and when he had somewhat recovered, he started telling me about a fox-terrier bitch he once owned, and who had deposited six "new-laid puppies" in his bed. "And when I started to get in between the sheets," he began; but I stopped my ears and ran away, refusing to hear any more. Men are so unsympathetic.