Chapter VI: From Allada to Agrime

Early on December 16th, we were walking the wet path. A little to the north of Allada, and to the left of the road, lies almost buried in grass, under a tall tree, the so-called “battery,” a row of twenty-eight guns. They are “all dismounted and much out of kelter”: fifteen are ship’s swivels, the others are long carronades, rusty and neglected, with their muzzles resting upon rough logs. This is the more curious as the Dahomans have made, I am told, tolerable gun-carriages. The cleared and open highway was well travelled over; the sides, alternately grassy and bushy, had been burnt during the “dries,[155]” and the maize-crops were finer than those near the sea. The undergrowth of herbaceous plants rendering the forest unpierceable, reminded me of the inner Gaboon country. After a fair stretch of level, we arrived at a “halfway house,” called Atto-gon—Monkey’s Place. The old chief, Atto,—the Monkey,—gave us the customary muddy water, oranges, papaws, and lean but exceedingly tough fowls: here, as in Eastern Africa, the aged and masculine are preferred, as having a higher flavour and offering harder work to the masticators.

Another short hour through a denser jungle than before, with occasional clearings, where the sun, which had dispersed the mists, broiled our backs,[156] placed us at Henvi Asinhwi—Henvi of the hand-clapping. It is related that when Agaja, the Conqueror, left Henvi proper to attack Whydah, he halted on this spot, then a “bush.” A messenger arrived and recalled him to his mother’s funeral. Leaving the dead to bury their dead, he smote his palms together in token of grief, and ordered “Henvi of the hand-clapping” to be built _in memoriam_. It is a very small market upon, and a little village to the right of, the road. Though only a single pair of warrior dancers appeared, we were obliged by civility to descend from our hammocks, and to receive from the chief Atakpa the customary gifts.

After another mile we enter Hen-vi—“Hold the child”—so called because, like Sienna in Tuscany, it is supposed to open its heart wider than its gates. It is also known as Henvi Dò-vo (vaw), or Henvi the Red-walled, and our “blind travellers” have corrupted it to Hawee or Havee. Like all those towns between Allada and the capital, it has its tattered “palace,” and a fetish-house in somewhat better preservation. A tolerable-sized village, and surrounded by giant trees, it looked pleasant and cool, though the sky was bathed in the burning light of the tropical sun. There is a market, but the water is bad and dear, and provisions are so scarce that the price of the leanest chicken is two shillings. There is, however, tolerable palm-wine brought from the bush. At Henvi sets off the north-western road, which, when the Agrime swamp is bad, leads to the capital: it is, as will be seen, longer, but easier.

We placed our stools next a tree opposite the large gateway of the royal abode, and were entertained with the usual dance. Here, however, there was something of novelty,—the first of the “Amazons” made their appearance. The four soldieresses were armed with muskets, and habited in tunics and white calottes, with two blue patches, meant for crocodiles. They were commanded by an old woman in a man’s straw hat, a green waistcoat, a white shirt, put on like the breeches of the good King Dagobert—_à l’envers_—a blue waist-cloth, and a sash of white calico. The virago directed the dance and song with an iron ferrule, and her head was shaded by way of umbrella, with a peculiar shrub, called on the Gold Coast “God’s Tree.[157]” The few men showed us some attempts at tumbling and walking upon their hands. Two of the women dancers were of abnormal size, nearly six feet tall, and of proportional breadth, whilst generally the men were smooth, full-breasted, round-limbed, and effeminate-looking. Such, on the other hand, was the size of the female skeleton, and the muscular development of the frame, that in many cases femineity could be detected only by the bosom. I have no doubt that this physical superiority of the “working sex,” led in the Popo and Dahoman race to the employment of women as fighters.[158] They are the domestic servants, the ploughboys, and the porters, and Gallegos, the field hands, and market cattle of the nation,—why should they not also be soldiers? In other matters they are by no means companions meet for men: the latter show a dawn of the intellectual, whilst the former is purely animal—bestial. Hence, according to some, the inordinate polygamy of the race.

After breakfasting in the house of a good old man, one of the local Buko-no, or Diviners, we bade adieu to Henvi of the Red walls. In places the path was girt with an impenetrable herbaceous growth, in others there rose on either hand noble hedges of forest trees: here the wintry leaves still strewed the ground, there the jungle waxed thinner, suggesting the possibility of passage. Amongst the long white llianas, some thick as a man’s leg, and bracing down Cotton-woods eighty feet high, I thought to recognise the gum-elastic creeper: the Europeans, however, speak only of a ficus which supplies a kind of a caoutchouc.

A short hour placed us at Whe-gbo, a small place on the right of the road. My interpreters explained the name thus. On this spot the three royal brothers of Allada disputed long and fierily about each one’s chance of being the greatest. As the question could not be settled, a councillor cried out, “No one can decide (_whe_) a palaver so great (_gbo_).” Upon that ground the present hamlet is built.

When we had disposed ourselves under the fig and fetish trees abounding at Whe-gbo, the war-chief Suzakon danced at the head of his half-a-dozen fellows, and waxed inordinately fierce. It is not a little startling to see how suddenly, the war-dress doffed, these ruffling heroes subside into the servile and timid “nigger.” Though the little knot of Falstaff’s recruits knew not how decently to cut off an imaginary head, their great captain boasted that the next month would see him in Abeokuta. An exceedingly fat old woman joined her _confrère_ in the _improvisé_ song, and professed her readiness to do or die by his side: we shook our heads gravely, and the bystanders roared with laughter. When the Ajablaku or civilian-chief had made his present, we urged on the hammockmen, who were becoming frantic for _Ahan_, their rum.

Noon had sped before we left Whe-gbo. The trees became even more gigantic than before, and presently we fell into a long descent; it is the second step, Azohwe being the first. After two hours we reached Akpwe, at the southern extremity of the Great Swamp.

Its name is explained to be the fetish or supernatural part of the Loko or “Sauce-wood” tree. In old times it belonged to a people called Aizoh, who, until conquered by Dahome, extended from near Agrime to Toli, and from this place westwards to Toffo,[159] where they are mixed with the Ffons. It contains a royal palace, or rather precincts of a guttered tumble-down wall, with a barn-like shed built over the gate, where travellers may rest. We went to the house of the chief, who, not expecting us, had refused admission to our men. The poorest market on the road was found at Akpwe. As we near the capital the population becomes thinner, and the display less, whilst a dozen women and children are seen for every one man. The principal performers in the dance were our own porters.

On December 17th, almost before the birds had begun their matins, we arose and sent forward our fellows: this morning we were to cross _the_ Marsh, the terror of travellers during the wet season. The people term it “Ko,” the Swamp, which appears to be a proper name, as a common bog is called “Agbábá.” The Europeans know it by the Portuguese word, “Lama”—mire or mud. For better distinction I propose to name it the “Agrime Swamp.” This northern limit separated the old kingdom, Allada, from the original Dahome. To the latter it is still an important strategical point moating it to the south: at certain seasons it would be almost impossible for the lightest of field artillery to cross it.[160] The marshy forest forms a zone said to cut through Dahome from the lagoon of Hwebonu (Porto Novo) eastward, to that of Porto Seguro on the west. Travellers differ about its course, and many declare it to be stagnant. On the western road, however, I found it distinctly draining to the west, and I therefore conclude that it feeds the Haho, Avon, or Porto Seguro Water. From December till June it may be crossed in two to three hours, and thus its breadth may be six to seven miles. Between July and November it is a severe task: visitors to the King have spent two days of continuous toil with ten hammock-men who were up to their armpits in water, to their calves in mire, and subject to perpetual tripping by the network of tree-roots catching their feet. The present has been an unusually dry year: we shall traverse the greater part without knowing it.

Whilst all was _en grisaille_, we struck, staff in hand, through the “dismal forest,” as old writers call it. The hammock became useless, the mud, hard-caked like that frozen by a German winter, wounds the feet of the bearers; they march at the rate of one mile an hour, and the frequent irregularities of the surface make them sidle into the bush, where tree stubs abound, and where falls are imminent. The path was tortuous, but easy to a walker, and hardly anywhere impassable to an American light waggon. The sixth King Sinmenkpen (our Adahoonzou II., 1774-1789) was the Macadam of Dahome. Resolving to make the “Ko” passable to his strangers, he handed over a string, ten yards long, to each caboceer,—a significant hint. This passage, we are told, cost incredible labour and fatigue before the hurdle bridges over the swamps were widened and the gullies were filled up. There were two depressions of black mud, decayed vegetation, and beyond those points the surface, though caked and cracked, was of lighter hue; its general unevenness told its difficulty during the rains. The only fetor in the bush was that of the large black ant, which suggests that a corpse is hidden behind every tree.[161]

The road was crowded with porters, hastening up to the Customs. After every 100 or 200 yards were dwarf thatches containing travellers’ bedsteads, rough branches laid on cross-bars supported by forked uprights, and all in ruinous state. These were the remnants of huts used by the soldiery when firing to Whydah.[162] At the half-way house, Wondonun,[163] we found by the aneroid that we had descended from 417 to within 134 feet of sea-level, explaining _the_ Swamp’s stagnancy. The little village is in a kind of island, which never floods; it has, however, a temporary and a miserable look. Around it is a wild and wiry grass showing old husbandry, and extensive plantations of plantain.

We ranged our chairs under an open shed in the market-place of Wondonun, and were not excused the usual infliction. The single white umbrella there present mustered his _corps de ballet_ with two separate rings of different sexes. And we had the politeness to look on for half-an-hour.

Whilst the sun was still young, we left Wondonun, and struck once more into the bush; the ground, though hard and flakey, was level, and presently tall black anthills showed that we had reached the northern edge of the swamp, where water does not regularly extend. A long hour placed us at Aiveji,[164] where drink and another dance awaited us. The soil from black mud had become white sand, and presently it assumed the normal red tinge. The surface was grass, burned in places: high and lush, it showed that the land had long lain fallow; the later cultivation was denoted by finer and thinner wild growths. Aiveji is a little village of thatch, almost buried in dense verdure, and near the road was a scatter of tattered hovels, the “khambi” or grass camp of the East African interior.

Excusing ourselves from halting in the heat of the sun, we passed on to Agrime, the end of this stage. The level differs little from that of Wondonun: we are still but 232 feet above the sea. Here, however, we strike the “true Coast” of Africa; the alternate dunes and morasses disappear for a regular and northerly inclination, whilst pebbles are now mixed with grass, shells, and broken palm-nuts, to temper the house swish. The stones, all rounded and water-washed, contained a large proportion of iron, and a smaller quantity of copper. Some Europeans declare that they have found traces of gold,[165] especially in the pottery: I saw nothing but an abundance of mica.[166] Others have gone so far as to say that the King, like his father, is aware of the precious metal existing in that portion of the “Kong Mountains” which subtends the north of Dahome, and that this is his reason for barring the road to travellers.[167] Others more reasonably opine that such a secret could not possibly be kept, especially when so many Gold Coast men are in the country; and, moreover, that the Dahomans are not such fools as to leave gold undug.

Agrimen—“In the wall”—derives its name from an old legend. When Jemeken was the chief, it was predicted to him that his wall must shake unless he daily “ate” (_i.e._, exacted as a tax upon goods passing the place) a “kene” and a “tene” (160 and 9) of cowries. When the King is in country quarters at Kana, strangers halt here, send forward their message-canes, and request permission to advance. We were received with the usual ceremony, a single soldier being the performer in a circle of some twenty unarmed squatters. Presently a messenger informed us that we were not wanted till the morrow. We spread the table under a thick orange- tree, and strewed it with wild mangoes, smelling like apples, and with cocoas, which extend as far as Agbome; the pineapple here, as at the capital, was found in a savage state, and without fruit. Our beds were hung in a new mud-house, lately built inside the royal precincts for the use of white travellers. The place is one of dignity; we were soon informed that it is not “etiquette” to follow any walk where we could be sighted by “King’s wives.” A large cynocephalus, a ground-pig, and divers interesting muscicapæ were to be seen in the maize, but could not be shot, being in the King’s palace. These ridiculous pretensions are doubtless invented by petty captains _pour se faire valoir_. Unfortunately white visitors, from Frenchmen to Brazilians, have ever endured this bullying without a murmur, and now the stain is hardly delible from the black mind.[168]

This chapter may conclude with a few remarks touching the route travelled over.

The aspect of the country confirms the general impression that the Dahomans were, for negroes, an industrious race, till demoralized by slave hunts and by long predatory wars. The land has at no distant period been well cleared, and it is still easy to reclaim, though in time the fallows will be again afforested. Others opine that it has of late been the royal policy to gird the capital with a desert, as the surest defence against invaders.

However that may be, Africa, as far as I know her, shows few such ruined regions as that viewed during the last four days. The scantiness of the population, and the disproportion of women and children to adult males, strike every eye. The hackneyed excuse is that there is a general muster for war or ceremony at the capital: the fact is that, beyond a few towns in which there is centralization, the country is a luxuriant wilderness.

On the Gold Coast, and about the Gaboon River and the South Coast, even a peasant will have his chair, table, cot, and perhaps boxes, for goods. Here he never dreams of such ownership. The cause is, of course, the ruler, who by spiritual advice acts upon the principle that iron-handed tyranny is necessary to curb his unruly subjects, and to spare him the painful necessity of inflicting upon them death or the “middle passage”—the Hamitic form of transportation. More to make them feel his power than to ameliorate their condition, he will not allow them to cultivate around Whydah coffee and sugar-cane, rice and tobacco, which at times have been found to succeed.[169] Similarly King Gezo stringently prohibited the growth of ground-nuts, except for purely domestic purposes. A caboceer may not alter his house, wear European shoes,[170] employ a spittoon-holder, carry an umbrella without leave, spread over his bed a counterpane, which comfort is confined to princes, mount a hammock, or use a chair in his own home; and if he sits at meat with a white, he must not touch knife or fork.[171] Only “a man of puncto” may whitewash the interior of his house at Agbome, and the vulgar must refrain from this, as well as from the sister-luxury of plank or board doors. And so in everything.

* * * * * *

It was a lovely evening at Agrimé, ushering in a cool clear night; the atmosphere told us that we had changed the false for the true tropical Africa,—the swampy outskirt for the hard hem of the rich garment. The moon shone brightly, exciting the hyæna, and inducing from the frogs many a βρεκεκεκεξ, κοαξ, κοαξ. Unusually distinct was that dark mysterious oval which sailoring men call the “coalsack,” and our “jungle clock,” of which Dante sang—

“Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente

Al altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle

Non criste mai fuorch’ alla prima gente.”

It may savour of heresy to say so, but I confess never to have discovered the charms of this useful but homely constellation. When the major axis of the Southern Cross is perpendicular, the form resembles that of a boy’s lob-sided kite; horizontal, it is like a badly-made four-legged stool.

[Footnote 155: The firing month is February, when the conflagrations sometimes scorch and scathe the lower bows of the gigantic trees. The operation seems here, as in Fernando Po, to enliven them, and a brighter green follows the injury.]

[Footnote 156: The open country near Allada is the hottest part of the march; it is a sensible relief to plunge into the forest.]

[Footnote 157: Yammi Dueh. Its prickly stem throws off at the summit three leafy shoots; the old Portuguese utilized this vegetable _bizarrerie_ as St. Patrick is said to have done with the shamrock.]

[Footnote 158: In the Bonny River the women appear to me larger than men.]

[Footnote 159: For a short account of Toffo, see chapter xxiv.]

[Footnote 160: North of Agrime the heaviest battering train would find no difficulty till it reaches the Makhi mountains.]

[Footnote 161: The experiments made by Mr. Duncan tend to show that the smell emitted by this species of ant is a poison to other insects.]

[Footnote 162: See, for a description of this ceremony, chapter xxii.]

[Footnote 163: Interpreted to mean a place where some monstrous prodigy was produced from _won_ (“portent” or “bad thing,” as, for instance, a child born with teeth, or speaking prematurely) and _Do-nun_ (s.s. as _do kho_, _i.e._, speak palaver).]

[Footnote 164: ’Ai’ (ground), Vé (red thing), and Ji (on): it is so called because built on red soil.]

[Footnote 165: Barbot, Book IV., chap. i., speaks of the “country of Tafou, in which are said to be mines of gold”; but he clearly did not know its whereabouts. According to Mr. Duncan (vol. ii., p. 307), gold is as plentiful in Dahome as in Ashanti; but it is quite superseded by the slave-trade. No one believes him. It is not a little curious that these people, like the Mandengas, the Fanti of the Gold Coast, and the natives of the Gaboon river, call gold “Sika.” Mr. R. Bruce Walker, now of Lagos, informs me that, “At R. Frisco, near C. Lahou, which is the most westerly point on the West African coast, when gold is found, the people call it Asika.” All these dialects being totally different, the word must have been borrowed by one tribe from the other, suggesting that all do not produce the metal. Can it be connected with the Asiatic “Sikkeh”?]

[Footnote 166: The pottery made at Agbome glitters with mica, and these “paillettes” have probably imposed upon the credulous.]

[Footnote 167: According to the apocryphal M. Wallon, King Gezo used to say that the mountains north of his kingdom produced gold, but that he preferred the cowrie currency, as with it there could be no forgery; moreover, no man could be secretly rich. At present, when doubloons are paid for slaves, the monarch monopolises all the gold in the country. The last haul of doubloons was made by H.M.S. Prometheus, who found £8000 stowed away in soap bars. Since that time, specie is brought out in the mail steamers, and bills are drawn on Messrs. L——i and Co., L’pool.]

[Footnote 168: The caboceer of Allada objected to Mr. Duncan measuring a cotton tree without the King’s leave.]

[Footnote 169: Mr. James, thinking the tea-plant indigenous to Dahome, endeavoured to cultivate it, and of course failed.]

[Footnote 170: The only shoes permitted are the kind of leather bags called Imálen fo-kpá, or Moslem slippers, and these cannot be assumed without royal permission.]

[Footnote 171: Formerly caboceers were not allowed to drink out of a glass in the royal presence; now the King will even offer it.]