The jungle folk of Africa

by Robert H. Milligan

Like some wise Artist, Nature gives

Through all her works, to each that lives,

A hint of somewhat unexprest.”

In setting out from Efulen we always had a “palaver” with the carriers which in one instance, at least, threatened to become a fight. Dr. Good on his first journey before my arrival in Africa had paid the carriers a certain amount for the round trip; for they had to carry their loads both ways. One can scarcely overestimate the authority of precedent in Africa. The citation of a precedent is sufficient to justify any subsequent action that may be to the advantage of him who cites it, even though the action be flagitious and the precedent only remotely relevant. A single precedent may establish a custom and established custom is a despot from whom there is no appeal, and whose authority transcends moral law. A Kruman, if asked why he does this or that, thinks that he gives the most lucid explanation when he answers: “It be fashion for we country.” We had expected to pay our carriers from Batanga to Efulen less than Dr. Good had paid, since they were carrying loads only one way. But his one trip had established the amount of pay, and at the first mention of lower prices there was a storm of protest accompanied by scathing moral observations. It made no difference to them, they averred, whether or not they carried loads both ways; they would just as soon walk with a load as without one, and indeed a little rather. We had no alternative, so we paid the full price of a round trip; but we stipulated that if at any time we should wish to send loads from the interior to Batanga, we should require the carriers to take them without any additional pay; and to this they cordially agreed.

It was seldom that we had anything but mail to send to Batanga, except when one of ourselves was going, and then we usually had four or five loads. But there were always several times this number of carriers. Some few, therefore, must be selected to carry the loads, while the rest walked light. It was natural, I suppose, that when they knew a white man was going back with them to Batanga they should all pretend to be sick in order to escape carrying a load. So sure as they heard me coming towards their house in the early morning to choose several carriers, immediately they presented such a spectacle of suffering as was never seen in any hospital. It was very perplexing for almost invariably some one or two of them were really sick and quite unfit to carry loads. On one occasion as I approached, the scene was more heartrending than usual. There were means and cries and shrieks such as might issue from a railroad wreck in which a score of broken and mangled human beings were pinioned by the wreckage. I found them sitting and lying around in every posture of pain. Some were nursing sore feet and sprained ankles, some had violent attacks of indigestion, several had fever, and one had a fit. Each one was occupied with his own suffering and betrayed no consciousness of my presence.

After looking around I walked out without speaking. I made a bold guess as to the sick and the well; and returning a few minutes later, followed by several workmen with the loads, I advanced as if by some occult means I knew exactly the degree of sincerity or insincerity on the part of each, and placed the heaviest load in front of a certain man, saying quietly: “You will carry this load.” Now it happened that this was the only sick man in the crowd and he was quite unfit to carry anything. The truth is that the man, being really sick, did not call in the assistance of dramatic art, and he made less fuss than any of the others. We were not many hours on the way before I discovered the mistake I had made. It is very difficult to make any change on the road, and is regarded as something less than fair. To accomplish it without a mutiny one must assume a terrifying countenance of the utmost ferocity and cannibalism. In this I was evidently successful; for late in the afternoon I suddenly called a halt, waited until all the men came up, and then ordered a man to take the load off the back of the sick man and put it on the man who that morning had been seized with a fit at my approach. This I did with the more relish because I had heard him chuckling about it along the way and telling the joke on the white man.

We seldom saw an animal in the forest, although we knew they were there. The only monkey that we saw on our first journey Mr. Kerr shot and gave to the carriers who ate every part of it, inside and out, including the skin—after burning off the hair. We sometimes heard the blood-curdling night-cry of the leopard; but we never saw one. On several occasions when I was alone I heard elephants plunging along the path before me, or suddenly discovered their tracks at my feet, so fresh that the water was still trickling into them. The elephant is not dangerous unless one comes upon him suddenly and startles or frightens him; but if he “charges,” he is terrible. A chief near Efulen was one day walking in the forest at the head of a hunting party. At a point where the path suddenly swerved around the upturned root of a tree, he found himself face to face with an elephant. Before he had time to fire the elephant instantly charged. It put its tusk through his body and then trampled him to death under its feet. The natives taught me, when I heard elephants ahead, to stop and shout until there was complete silence; which meant that they had hidden in the forest and I could pass along the path in perfect safety, no matter how near they might be. But the first time that this occurred, and the second time, I made the natives prove their advice by going ahead themselves, which they never hesitated to do.

In the wet season I always walked in company with the caravan; but in the dry season I preferred to walk alone, and often left the carriers far behind me, scattered along the road in different groups. At a fork in the road I always threw a handful of fresh leaves upon the road that I followed, as a sign to the carriers that they might be sure to take the same way. Never but once did they fail to follow me. On that occasion some of the carriers were boys of a strange tribe, the Galway, more used to waterways than to bush roads. Until the last evening they had walked behind others who were familiar with bush travel and whom they could follow heedlessly. But that evening it happened that the Galway were ahead and they took the wrong road, not observing my sign of the leaves on the path, and the whole caravan went astray except two carriers who were far behind and separated from the others. To follow their misfortune to the issue, the Galway got separated from the rest of the caravan and arrived at Batanga two days late, famished with hunger and frightened half to death.