The jungle folk of Africa

by Robert H. Milligan

Mr. Kerr suggested that it might be marked on the thermometer. And, if not, I said that he might take his own temperature first, and so ascertain the normal.

However, it was marked on the thermometer at ninety-eight and two-fifths degrees, or thereabouts. Mr. Kerr then took my temperature and found that it was 105°. In the evening it was 106°. Next day it was the same, and so the fever raged for several days. We dispatched a messenger to Dr. Good, reporting to him also my temperature for two days. It was the tenth day of the fever before he reached me, though he started immediately; for the roads were at the worst. He had no expectation that I would be alive. Meantime I had begun to take quinine. The wet season was now at the worst. The tent was not sufficient to turn the heaviest rains, which sometimes came through and saturated the bed. Between showers the sun came out so strong that I was compelled to leave bed and rush outside for fresh air. After several days of this, Mr. Kerr suggested that my bed be moved into the house of the workmen, which had only an earthen floor with a considerable slant to it. But it had at least a thatch roof that would turn rain and would afford a better protection against the sun. There was a square opening for a window over which we hung a salt-bag. Then followed a long fight for life, through several weeks, and a slow victory due chiefly to the kindness and untiring care of my associates. Dr. Good after his arrival nursed me day and night. What is usually known as African fever ends fatally or otherwise in a few days. I therefore concluded long afterwards that it must have been malarial-typhoid.

We each have our foibles and whims which sickness sometimes brings into strong relief. One of my own I cannot forbear relating. After several days of sickness, when I knew that it was fever, and recovery seemed hopeless, my mind turned to the meagre and unique undertaking formalities in such a place as Efulen. The fact that no boards were procurable did not trouble me in the least; I felt that I could be comfortable in a cotton blanket or a rubber sheet. But I had a great longing for a genuine white shirt laundered in America. Through all the successive changes of clothing by which I had gradually discarded the total apparel of civilization I had maintained a serene attitude. But, for that final ceremony, after which there should be no more changes, I had a childish desire for something that would separate me from the rude and savage surroundings of Africa and that would serve to designate the civilization to which I really belonged; and the most civilized article I could think of was a white shirt such as those I had packed away in the bottom of a trunk at Batanga.

A little incident of that period will further illustrate the helplessness of bachelor white men in such an emergency. One day, when I had been ill a week, I became hungry for the first time; but not so hungry that I could eat corned beef, sardines, or Irish stew; and we had not yet been able to procure a chicken or even an egg from the natives. Mr. Kerr looking hopelessly over the pile of tins suddenly discovered one little tin of oysters, which had gotten into our supplies by some happy mischance. He shouted for joy and came running to show it to me. Nothing could have been better; and when he asked me how I would like to have them prepared, I said I would like them stewed in milk. He soon brought them to me steaming, and even the odour seemed to invigorate me. I took a spoonful—and with a nauseous exclamation I spewed it into the middle of the room. Dear reader, condensed milk is forty per cent. sugar.

Two other incidents of those days will serve to exhibit certain native characteristics that I may not have occasion to notice again. A party of natives were going to the coast and on the way they stopped at Efulen. Hearing how very ill I was, and consulting with the workmen, they concluded that I might live one more day, or two days at the most. Accordingly when they reached the coast, the two days having expired, they reported to my friends that I was dead. The report was credited for several days, although in the mind of some there was a doubt. It was only when these messengers appeared again and they asked them about the details of the funeral that the story broke down notwithstanding the fine imagination of the natives; for they had never seen a white man buried, and their own customs were very different. They evidently made me so misconduct myself at my own funeral that my friends concluded that I was alive. But that was the nearest I ever came to an untimely end. I would not by any means call those natives unmitigated liars. Not every white man can maintain the distinction between fact and conviction.

Again, one night when the fever was at the worst, a small boy, Lolo, who was sitting by my bed keeping cold water on my head, told me that there was no more water. This was the fault of the cook, a man of Batanga. Mr. Kerr was asleep in the other end of the house, and he needed sleep. I sent for the cook and told him to go quickly and bring water. There was a good spring part way down the hill a short distance behind the house. The man refused to go, though he had never been disobedient before. He was afraid of the darkness. It was useless to threaten him or quarrel with him, and worse than useless for a sick man. No power under heaven could have compelled him to go to that spring alone; nor was there any one on the premises who would go with him. Not all are so cowardly in the night; but there are many strong men in Africa who would fight bravely to death with any visible or natural foe, but are arrant cowards before the creatures of their own imagination; invisible and supernatural enemies with which they fill the darkness of the night.

It was a great day for us when our new house was finished. It was made entirely of native material and was much like a native house except that it had a floor and was elevated from the ground and had swinging doors and windows. Like all houses of white men in Africa it was set on posts about six feet from the ground. The walls were of bark, in pieces six feet long and from a foot to two feet in width. The bark is held by split bamboo the size of laths, placed horizontally, six inches apart and tied with bush-rope made of the abundant vine, which is split and shaved down with a knife. The roof, which was supported by rafters of bamboo, was of palm thatch. This roof turns the rain perfectly and is much cooler than any other kind. There was no ceiling in the house.

AN IMPROVED MISSION HOUSE AT EFULEN.

The first house was similar but much smaller.