CHAPTER XIV

THROUGH THE KONKOMBWA COUNTRY

I found that the change in temperature at Mangu was very marked indeed since we had left it not so very many days ago. The harmattan was lifting, and the nights, as well as the days, had begun to get very oppressive, so that I had no longer any difficulty in believing the stories that had been told me concerning the tropical intensity of the heat in the rainy season.

This harmattan, by the way, is a bit of a meteorological mystery. In the reference books it is generally described as a hot dry wind, blowing from the interior deserts of Africa, and laden with reddish dust. This may be true as regards its inception, but to describe the harmattan one encounters in Togoland as a "wind," is to convey an altogether wrong impression. It more nearly resembles a dry fog, and is yellowish rather than red, rendering the light effects most unsuitable for photography of any kind, and especially so for cinematographic photography. Its advent is, however, welcomed by the residents of the colony, for it tempers the heat of the sun's rays in a most effective, not to say extraordinary, manner. Directly it lifts, the temperature goes up with a bound, and the heat, which, while it lasts, is at least tolerable, becomes well-nigh insupportable.

My second stay in Mangu was not particularly eventful. The men went out every day taking ethnological pictures. This was in the morning, of course, before the worst of the heat began. I put in the time riding round with Captain von Hirschfeld, watching the progress of the building of the new station, and inspecting the soldiers on parade. There are a great many soldiers in Mangu just now, as all the reserves have been called up for training. It is wonderful to see the progress these reservists make, not to mention the raw recruits, in the course of their training. This is limited to ten days, but into that brief period of time there is crammed almost an infinity of hard work. Their ordinary hours of drill are ten a day. No white soldier could, or would, stand it. But the black man seems absolutely to enjoy it.

We took the opportunity of the reserves being called up to film the lives of these native soldiers, photographing them not only while they were at drill and at work, but also while they were at play, and resting in the bosom--or rather bosoms--of their families. Family life, by the way, plays a big part in the existence of the black troops of the Togo hinterland. There is no "marrying off the strength" for the Togo "Tommy." Practically they are all married, and "with leave," and most of them are very much married. An English Tommy, when he has saved up money, and feels like enjoying himself, goes on furlough, and buys beer. The Togo Tommy stops at home, and buys a wife. He has to ask permission first, of course, but this is practically always granted, provided he has enough funds standing to his credit. The cost of a wife in Mangu is about sixteen shillings; in other places it is dearer, in some few cheaper. It all depends on the number of unmarried girls there are available; in other words, on the law of supply and demand. Even in Mangu, however, the price varies. A young and attractive girl of thirteen or fourteen may possibly be worth a sovereign. Girls marry young in West Africa. On the other hand, a strong and experienced woman who is a good cook and housewife, has also a good market value. Practically every soldier in Togoland buys as many wives as he can afford. The German Government--very wisely, I think--does not attempt to interfere with native domestic customs, of which polygamy is one of the oldest and most deeply-rooted. The women do not object in the least. In fact, they rather like it, for many hands make light work, and the more wives a man has to minister to his wants, the less arduous are the duties any single one of them is called upon to perform. Besides, in the days when inter-tribal fighting was the normal state of affairs in Togoland, the women naturally greatly outnumbered the men; for although in no single one of these perpetual little wars was the death roll on either side considerable, the sum total of fatal casualties soon mounted up, and the adult males were, therefore, always in a minority as compared with the adult females. Consequently, if monogamy were the rule, many Togo girls would have been, in the old days, condemned to a life of celibacy, and a celibate female amongst savages is unthinkable.

But I find I am wandering off the track. Soon I shall find myself writing a Togoland "Golden Bough." Let us return to our sheep--in other words, our films. Most of those taken at Mangu, as I have already stated, were ethnological ones, and many of them created the liveliest interest when they were shown later on in London at special meetings of the various learned societies, such as, for instance, the Royal Anthropological Institute and the Royal Geographical Society. But we also utilised this, our second stay in Mangu, to photograph some of the kind best described as semi-dramatic.

One of these was of very special interest to everybody there, natives as well as whites, because it was an attempt to reproduce for the cinema what will presently become Togo history. The incident chosen was the attack on the old station at Mangu by the Tschokossi, mentioned in a previous chapter, and amongst the hundreds of supers, soldiers as well as natives, who took part in the film production, were many men who had been in the actual fighting. We followed the true course of events as nearly as possible in our mimic representation, the authorities kindly placing at our disposal for the purpose practically the entire Mangu garrison. In the film, as finally completed and screened, two patrols are seen going out, one in the direction of Tamberma Fort. The latter is attacked, overwhelmed, and cut to pieces, only one badly wounded man escaping. The other patrol, going farther afield, scouts up to a big native town, and finds the savages there dancing their tribal war dances, yelling death to the Europeans, and generally working themselves into a frenzy. The patrol returns to the fort to report, and on the way picks up the wounded survivor from the other party, who tells them of the fate that has overtaken his comrades. The officer in charge of the fort sends a letter to the commanding officer at headquarters asking for assistance, but before the relief arrives the natives swarm up and attack the fort. The garrison is hard pressed, and the officer in charge, uncertain as to whether his first letter has got through to headquarters, calls for a volunteer to take a second letter. A native soldier steps forward, and quits the beleaguered fort disguised as a Hausa. By taking careful cover he gets through the lines of the besiegers without being noticed, delivers his letter to the officer commanding, whom he meets on the road, and all ends happily, the final scene showing the assault, followed by the arrival of the relieving force and the dispersal of the assailants. Curiously enough, we had considerable difficulty in getting the natives to act as supers in this film. They remembered the real fighting, and having a wholesome fear of the soldiers, born of actual experience, they were extremely loath to come to close quarters with them.

On January 27th the Kaiser's birthday was celebrated in Mangu, sports and games being organised for the natives, who took the keenest interest in them. A water race for women caused great excitement. They had to run a certain distance, carrying calabashes of water, the prizes going to those who succeeded in spilling least. A blind-fold pot-smashing competition was also the cause of a lot of fun. In the afternoon Captain von Hirschfeld distributed the prizes to the winners, and I also gave away some pieces of silk, cloth, and beads as supplementary ones.

One morning an exceedingly smart-looking Hausa, from the heart of the true Sudan, came into the station with a wild ostrich for sale. It was a very fine bird, the biggest in fact, Schomburgk said, that he had ever seen, and he promptly bought it. The bird had been tightly tied up for some considerable while, and as a result it was all sore and chafed about the legs. Schomburgk therefore set him loose. And the bird showed its gratitude by immediately bolting. The result was that we had to organise a party to recapture him. It was by no means bad fun, however, and besides we were able to film an ostrich hunt on the veldt. Everybody nearly enjoyed it first rate, including, I verily believe, the ostrich. The one exception was our camera man, who soon ran himself out of breath, and was as limp as a wet rag by the time we had finished. Before this little episode he had been very keen on game pictures, but it was noticeable that afterwards he studiously avoided referring to them. However, he made a lovely film of this one, and we were highly pleased, naturally.

We were due to leave Mangu for good on February 1st, and the last few days were spent in packing up, sorting out our stores for the downward journey, and disposing of such as we no longer required. A lot of tinned stuff we gave away, and one of the horses that was ill Schomburgk presented to the white non-commissioned officer at the station. Our one hundred loads that we had started with had dwindled by now to about forty.

Suddenly Schomburgk announced a most terrible and alarming discovery. He had run out of cigarettes. A package supposed to contain a reserve supply was found on being opened to be filled with packets of tea, sugar, and other groceries. He flew to the telephone and sent an urgent message to Sokode for a fresh supply, to be despatched by special runner. Meanwhile he growled and grumbled like a bear with a sore head. Nor did matters improve greatly when the cigarettes at length arrived. The Sokode people had run out of the best Egyptians--his usual smoke--which retail out there at sixpence a dozen, so they had sent him a very inferior sort, known locally as "battle-axe brand," and costing about sevenpence for fifty. They have been christened "battle-axes," Schomburgk explained, in between two long strings of swear words, because two of them will knock you on the head and kill you. On the same principle the Western American cowboy dubs the vile spirit sold in the frontier cattle towns "forty-rod whisky." You walk forty rods after drinking a glass of it, then you drop down dead. I cannot, of course, speak as to the whisky; but the cigarettes fully deserved their evil name. Navvy shag was simply "not in it" with them. When Schomburgk started to smoke one, everybody ran away. I am told they are exported to Togo from England for native consumption. All I can say is, I pity the natives.

At last the day of parting came. I can hardly find words to express how sorry I felt to leave Mangu and our dear little home. Captain von Hirschfeld, who had shown us such splendid hospitality all through our stay there, rode three miles with us on the return journey. We are not travelling back along the same route we came up by, but are setting a course some distance to the westward of it, so as to break new ground. Our first camp had been fixed at a place called Unyogo, and as the distance was comparatively short, Schomburgk and I did not quit Mangu until three o'clock in the afternoon, having previously sent our carriers on ahead to pitch the tents, and get everything ready. Our boy we took with us on horseback to carry our water-bottles, but he didn't keep up with us, and somehow he managed to tumble off his horse. Naturally, the riderless animal promptly bolted back for its comfortable stable at Mangu, with the boy hot a-foot after it. As a result we had no water to drink during the stage, which was a very hot one, with no shade whatever and clouds of dust. I suffered considerably from thirst. So did Schomburgk, who, however, was able to console himself by smoking "battle-axes" and swearing at intervals, both palliatives denied to me. It was a glad moment for both of us when at length we caught sight of our green tents under the trees outside Unyogo.

Hodgson was already there, having gone on ahead on his bicycle. He was greatly excited, and would hardly give us time to get a drink of water, or a cup of tea, before plunging into a narrative of what he somewhat grandiloquently termed his "adventure." It appeared that he had been pedalling silently along on his bicycle, when a covey of grouse flew up almost from under his front wheel, and cannoned into one another in their fright and excitement with so great violence that six of them fell to the ground. Dismounting, he picked up five of the birds quite dead; the sixth was only stunned, and, recovering itself, fluttered off into the bush. The incident was certainly a remarkable one, almost incredible indeed, for grouse are notoriously hard birds to hit. But there they were, all five of them, mute witnesses to the truth of his story. None of them bore any shot, or other wound, to account for their deaths; and besides, Hodgson had no gun with him. We cooked them for supper, and very delicious they were. Afterwards, we sat outside our camp in the moonlight talking and laughing, and in high spirits at the thought of going home--all but Schomburgk, who declared that the trip was far too short a one. "Some day," he remarked, "we will come out here again, film some more pictures, and return home the other way." "Other way?" I inquire dubiously. "Yes," he replied airily, "round by Timbuctu, and north across the Sahara. It will be grand fun, and we shall get some unique pictures." "Yes-s!" I reply feebly. And no more is said. But I think a lot.

That night a woman palaver started right outside my tent. I was awakened at dead of night by the cries of a female in distress--shouting, howling, and sobbing. Jumping up, and throwing on a wrap, I hurried outside, imagining that murder was being done at the very least. The noise was being made by the wife of one of our soldiers, who declared, on being questioned, that her husband had tried to kill her. Schomburgk, whom the noise had also awakened, and who now put in an appearance, promptly sent for the man, and cross-examined first him and then his wife. The true facts of the case were thus elicited. It turned out that the woman, having had a wordy quarrel with her husband--no blows were struck--had announced her intention of forthwith going back to Mangu. Her husband had, quite properly, prevented her from carrying out her intention. Whereupon she had rushed out of their hut, and over to our camp, where she had started howling and yelling, hoping thereby to get her husband punished. Had Schomburgk been an inexperienced African traveller, unused to the little wiles of native women, she might possibly have succeeded in her design. But he was too old a bird to be caught that way. Instead of punishing the husband, who was obviously not to blame in the matter, he told him to take his wife back to their hut, and if she didn't behave herself, he had his (Schomburgk's) full permission to give her a hiding. I never saw a woman so completely taken aback as this one was when she heard the judgment delivered. Her jaw dropped, her look of hard defiance gave place to one of abject fear, and without a word she followed her lord and master to their joint domicile, where, for the rest of that night at all events, peace reigned once more.

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.

We are now in the heart of the Konkombwa country, and Schomburgk decided to stay over here for a couple of days in order to film these most interesting savages. Everywhere around us the country is most densely populated, little villages peeping through the trees wherever one turns one's gaze, and we expected that we should have no difficulty, therefore, in inducing sufficient numbers of natives to attend. But in the beginning there was a hitch. Schomburgk had sent round word for them to come up to the camp in the afternoon for a dance, and they duly turned up, but undecorated. This, of course, was not at all what we wanted, and Schomburgk asked them why they had left off their head-dresses and other ornaments. They replied that it was because they were afraid that the white men would take them from them; but on receiving his personal assurance that nothing would be taken from them by force, but only on fair payment, and even then not unless they were perfectly willing to sell, they agreed to come the next day dressed in their best.