Konkombwa at Archery Practice
These people are still in the bow-and-arrow stage of martial evolution; nor are the bows they use remarkable for power or strength of construction. Their arrows, however, are invariably poisoned, and the slightest scratch from one means death.
The children are very prettily mannered. If one meets a group of them on the road, they will line up, stand rigidly to attention, and give one a smiling "Good morning." If, as frequently happens, one comes across them seated by a stream, and repeating their lessons together in the sort of a sing-song chorus they greatly affect, the same thing happens. Of course, however, these children are picked children. Only a certain number are taken from each village, and not above a certain number in all. At present the sum total for whom accommodation is available is about one hundred; but new school buildings are being erected; then the classes will be very largely augmented. The children are taken entire charge of by the Government during the time they are at school. A small daily sum is allowed each child for food and lodging, this being handed over pro rata to certain approved native women living in the village, who undertake in return to board and sleep so many of them. Each child is also given by the Government a little blue smock, and books, slates, pencils, and so forth are of course provided free.
On the evening before the day we had fixed for our departure, Herr von Parpart asked us to dinner. This gentleman, by the way, was not at Sokode when we were here on our upward journey. If he had been, we certainly should not have stayed at Paratau. He is a most courteous, considerate man, who radiates energy, kindness, and good-nature; altogether a splendid example of the best type of German official. At the dinner-party were a Mr. and Mrs. Dehn, who were going up to Bassari to relieve Mr. Muckè, who was going home on leave. It follows, therefore, that she will be the second white woman in Togoland north of Sokode.
Prior to going in to dinner, we were seated outside the house on a little hillock, the top of which had been artificially flattened, chatting together and enjoying the cool evening air. It was a dark night, with very little moonlight. Suddenly, from a grove behind us, came the sound of children's voices singing an old German part-song. It was a choir of Mr. Kuepers' little scholars, and the musical treat had been arranged by him in our honour. I never heard anything more beautiful; or, under the circumstances, more affecting. Song after song of our childhood's days the young choristers reeled forth. Mrs. Dehn, who had only recently come out, started to use her handkerchief; and I think I should shortly have followed suit, had not our host come up at the crucial moment and led me into dinner.
The meal was a grand success, reminding me of the one Baron Codelli had treated us to on our arrival at Kamina from the coast six months previously. There was the same beautifully arranged table, the same sheen of damask and glitter of silver, the same noiseless, trained service, the same carefully chosen and perfectly cooked food. Everybody was in the highest spirits, and I enjoyed myself immensely. We sat late, and should have sat later at our host's urgent invitation, only that the motor-car had arrived that day from Atakpame, and we were due to start early in the morning. It seemed strange, by the way, to find my hammock—thoughtfully provided by my kind host—waiting at the door to take me home, in the same way as the electric brougham belonging to the house waits at home to whisk away the late-departing guest.
We had told our boys to call us at 5 A.M., but I confess that, for my part, it required no small effort of will to induce me to rise and dress. Out in the bush one is not used to dissipation. I wished now that I had refused that last half glass of champagne, or had dispensed with the liqueur. I will say no more.
Outside, the cold morning air acted as a tonic. There was the big car, panting to be off. It held seven people comfortably, and our ten boxes. Soon we were speeding along our homeward road, and my spirits rose with each succeeding mile. It was grand to fly along down the route up which we had toiled so slowly, to cover in an hour a stage that had taken us a whole day to traverse on cycles or by hammock. At Djabotaure, however, there came a sudden halt. Our left-hand hind wheel tyre burst with a loud report, and my heart sank within me at the prospect of being stranded here in this desolate spot, two days—by carriers—from Sokode and five from Atakpame. Luckily we carried a spare tyre, but it was a non-skidder, and from now on our driver had to be very careful.
The road in the Sokode district was perfect, that in the Atakpame district was not quite so good; and we were all more or less anxious, for we carried no more spare tyres, and another breakdown would have meant several days' delay. The bridges of planks, covered in some instances with clay, were negotiated in fear and trembling, for they had, of course, not been constructed for heavy motor traffic, and our big car, with its load, weighed a good bit over a ton. The natives we met seemed greatly interested in the new machine, which had not yet lost its novelty for them, and stood gaping after it much as the rustics used to do in Europe, I am told, when motor-cars first began to be used there. One big negro varied the ordinary proceeding by standing facing the car in the middle of the road, and backed as we approached, at the same time edging sideways. As a result he tumbled over backwards into a ditch, and the last I saw of him, as we sped by, was a pair of big flat feet projecting upwards, and waving wildly from the side of the road.
We overtook our horses at a village en route, and paused to see that our instructions were being properly carried out. At Blita, too, we stopped for breakfast, selecting this particular rest-house because it is the only one between Sokode and Atakpame that boasts a table. Here we used up absolutely the last of our provisions, and I remember thinking to myself that if a breakdown were to occur now, we should not only be subject to an irritating and vexatious delay, but that we should probably go hungry into the bargain. However, nothing happened; mechanism and tyres both held; and shortly after noon we rolled into Atakpame, and thence to Kamina.