Chapter III: THE COTTON INDUSTRY—continued

Cotton is grown extensively in parts of Northern Nigeria, not for export—outside the Hausa provinces—but for home consumption. In Kano province—28,600 square miles in extent with 2,500,000 inhabitants, more than one-fourth of the total population of the Protectorate—its cultivation is accompanied by what can, without exaggeration, be termed a national industry of weaving, manufacturing, embroidering, and dyeing the garments, both under-garments and over-garments, which the Kano people wear. But not the Kano people alone. For many centuries, for nearly 1000 years probably, the Kanawa have been famed throughout the great region comprised between the bend of the Niger and the ocean as the expert cotton manufacturers of Africa; the most interesting region in all the Dark Continent, where divers races have ceaselessly intermingled, attracted thither by its fertile soil and abundant pastures; Libyan and Berber, Egyptian and Semite, and the mysterious Fulani. Three-fourths of the “men of the desert,” too, the fierce-eyed, black-lithamed Tuareg, descendants of the Iberians, who roam over the vast spaces between Tripoli and the Chad, replenish their wardrobes from the Kano looms. Throughout Bornu, Wadai, and Baghirmi, in the northern German Cameroons as far east as Darfur, Kano cloths hold unquestioned sway. The Kanawa are not the only Nigerians who manufacture cotton goods; but they are the only people among whom the industry may be truly called a national one. As carried out in Kano province this industry adds dignity, interest, and wealth to the life of the people, assists their inventive faculties, intensifies their agricultural lore, and sustains several other branches of industrial activity, binding in close alliance of material interest the agriculturist and the artisan. It gives a healthy, attractive employment to many thousand homes—employment carried on in the free air of heaven, beneath the bright sunshine of Africa. It has become a part of the national life, the pride and profit of the people. Men, women, and children participate in it, the men clearing the ground, hoeing and sowing, the women and children doing the picking, the women cleaning the lint of the seeds (on flat stones), teasing, the men weaving, tailoring, and usually, but not always, embroidering. Woven in long, narrow strips, the manufactured article is of remarkable durability and firmness of texture. The predominating dye is the blue of the indigo plant, extensively cultivated for the purpose, dyepits being common all over the province. The embroidery, both in regard to design and execution, is astonishingly handsome, and the colours harmoniously blended. A fine specimen of a finished _riga_—the outer robe covering the shoulders, with an aperture for the head and neck, and falling in folds to the knee—is a work of art of which any people in any country might be proud. It is a very heavy garment, and it is costly. But it is suitable for the cold nights and chilly mornings, and it lasts for years.

It is impossible to separate the cultivation of cotton from the agricultural pursuits of the people generally. Cotton, like cassava, onions, ochro, pepper, ground nuts, and beans, takes its place as one of the secondary crops. The people are primarily a people of agriculturists, raising vast quantities of cereals year after year for home consumption and export to other districts—guinea-corn and millet, yams, maize, a little wheat. In the Kano Emirate or division—as distinct from what is known as the Kano province—the population is exceedingly dense, and virtually the whole land is under cultivation. I have seen nothing more remarkable in the way of cultivation either in France or Flanders. And it is all done with the _galma_, a peculiar kind of short-handled hoe, which would break the back of an English labourer to use, but which the Hausa will wield for hours together. The pattern of the _galma_ is of great antiquity. It came from ancient Egypt, with the original inhabitants probably; the plough, which was used in Egypt when intercourse was frequent between the valleys of the Nile and Niger, never seems to have penetrated so far West—a curious and unexplained fact.

Long, deep, broad, parallel ridges cover the surface of the land, dotted here and there with magnificent specimens of the locust-bean tree, the shea, the tamarind, and many other varieties, under whose shade it seems a favourite device to grow a catch crop of pepper. How does the soil retain, year after year, its nutritive properties? That is the secret of the Kanawa, who from generation to generation have studied it in conjunction with the elements, as the Niger pilots have learned to read the face of the waters and can steer a steam launch where no white man could without running his craft upon a sandbank, especially at low water. That they have acquired the necessary precise knowledge as to the time to prepare the land for sowing; when to sow and how to sow; how long to let the land lie fallow; what soils suit certain crops; what varieties of the same crop will succeed in some localities and what varieties in others; how to irrigate the land situate in the vicinity of the waterways and planted with secondary crops in the dry season; how to ensure rotation with guinea-corn, millet, ground nuts, and beans; when to arrange with the Fulani herdsmen to pasture their cattle upon the land—so much at least the outsider interested in agricultural problems can gauge to some extent. For miles and miles around Kano city one passes through a smiling country dotted with farms, riven by fine, broad native roads lined with hedges of euphorbias and other plants.

Great care is lavished upon the cotton and cassava plantations—the two chief secondary crops. When the cotton fields are in the neighbourhood of a road, and very often when they are not, they are surrounded by tall fencing, eight to ten feet in height, usually composed of reeds and grass or guinea-corn stalks, to protect them from the depredations of cattle, sheep, and goats, all of which abound. In April and May, with the advent of the early rains, the land is cleared and hoed into furrows and ridges. Along the ridges drills are made at a distance of two and a half to three feet apart, the seed dropped in, and the ridge hoed up. In some districts, however, this custom is varied by the ridges being made after the sowing. The water lies in the hollows between the ridges, prevents the seeds from being washed away by the torrential downpour, and allows air to circulate freely, thus keeping the plants in a healthy state. A month later, when the plants have grown to a foot or more, the ground is again hoed. That is the first sowing. With variations according to localities there are successive sowings up to July and even August. The success of these late sowings depends very much upon the extent to which the land has been previously manured. Conditions are slightly different with the variety of cotton grown, but as a rule the plants are in a fit condition for picking about five months after sowing. December, January, March, and April appear to be the months when cotton is most abundant in the markets. In November and December of last year I observed that while in some of the fields the pods were bursting well and picking beginning, in others they were still in full flower; in others, again, they had not reached the flowering stage. Speaking generally, the plantations were in excellent condition, and the absence of weeds would have done credit to an up-to-date British farmer. But the difference in vigour of plant growth was very marked—affected, doubtless, by locality and manuring or the lack of it. One of the finest plantations I saw was at Gimmi, to the north of Zaria province, and the intelligent _sariki_ (chief) of that village informed me that his people not infrequently treated the plant as a perennial up to the third year, when it was plucked up. I subsequently ascertained that in the Hadeija division of the Kano province, where the soil has a good underlying moisture, the perennial treatment is carried on sometimes for no less than seven years. After the third year the annual crop decreases. When so treated the plant is invariably manured.

I found it exceedingly difficult to obtain reliable figures as to the average yield of cotton per acre in any one district, or the average acreage under cultivation; and the Residents share the view that only continuous residence in the country by a Hausa-speaking (that is essential) European expert in constant and close touch with the farmers will permit of anything approaching exact information being acquired on the point. In the Katagum division of Kano province an acre is _said_ to produce an average of 266 lbs. The average annual acreage under cotton in Katsina is _said_ to be 16,000 acres. In Zaria province the soil, which is a sandy clay, the subsoil being reached at six inches, is generally rather poor, and the farmer is not so great an expert as his Kano colleague. In some places it is so poor that one hundred plants are said to be required to produce a single _riga_. In the true cotton-farming districts of the northern part of the province—such as Soba, Gimba, and Dillaya—the soil is, however, very much better, obtaining more moisture than the higher ground of Kano province and producing even finer cotton. Broadly, the problem which faces the native farmer in Zaria province is how to increase the fertility of his land. Artificial chemical manuring is out of the question; the rains would wash it all out of the soil. Green manuring is well understood but might be improved. The introduction of one or two shallow ploughs might work wonders by showing the farmers how the subsoil could be broken up, but the experiment would have to be carefully demonstrated. The native is only affected by actual demonstration, and, so far, demonstrations inspired by Europeans designed to show the Hausa farmer how to improve his agricultural systems have done little more than provoke a smile. The white man has failed where the black man has succeeded, because the white man thought he knew local conditions and did not. A Government experimental farm was started at Maiganna rather late last year, the sowings being made in July, if I remember rightly, seventeen miles from Zaria city. This is an excellent initiative which it is to be hoped will be maintained. It is really Government work. The British Cotton-growing Association should be spared all expense of this kind. Two varieties indigenous to the southern provinces (Bassa and Ilorin) and “Nyassaland upland” were planted. I was told last November by the official in charge that the indigenous varieties were doing fairly well, but that the “Nyassaland” was suffering from red-leaf. The British Cotton-growing Association was then about to put up a large and costly ginnery at Zaria. The operation is proceeding, and a substantial quantity of cotton has already been bought. I will refer to that later on. Meantime I cannot help thinking that it might have been better to have waited a little and set up the ginnery at Kano. However, this is merely a personal opinion.

The chief varieties of indigenous cotton grown in the Kano province are three in number. The first is known under the four following names—_gundi_, _bagwandara_, _lutua_, or _mailaushi_; the second as _chukwi_ or _labai_. These two are the best kinds, their quality being about the same. The third is called _yerkarifi_ or _yergeri_. It is of an inferior quality with a shorter staple, usually but not always grown where the soil is not naturally rich enough to support the other kinds. It is the _yerkarifi_ variety, I gathered, which is more often used as a perennial. It fetches a lower price on the local markets and takes a month longer to mature. Cotton plants are fairly free from insect pests, but the following are identified: the cotton boll worm (_tsutsa_), what is described, doubtfully, as an ant which attacks the root (_zago_), and two species of blight (_makau_ and _madi_). The native remedy, apart from constant hoeing, is to light a fire to windward, upon which the dried leaves of a certain plant, and also dried fish, are thrown. The question of indigenous _versus_ exotic varieties here crops up again. One hears talk of flooding the country with exotic seed and doing away altogether with the indigenous varieties. I refer to Zaria, where some five hundred bags of exotic seed—or at least non-local seed—were distributed this spring after a palaver with the Emir and his principal headmen. No doubt it may be all right. From the non-expert point of view it seems dangerous. As already stated, African insect life fastens with relentless savagery upon exotic plant life, just as it revels in nice fresh blood out from Europe. One season’s failure with an exotic or non-local variety, sown by instructions of the Emir’s headmen in lieu of the indigenous kind, might create a prejudice in the native’s mind that it would take years to remove. Concentration upon improving the fertility of the soil, and therefore the quality and quantity of the local varieties (combined, of course, with seed selection) would be a slower process. It is just possible that it might be a wiser one.

The distribution of the cotton now grown in Zaria and Kano provinces is as follows: Zaria is visited by the weavers (or their representatives) of Kano and of French territory—from the neighbourhood of Zinder principally. They buy up between them virtually the whole crop, importing live stock and manufactured goods, which they dispose of in the markets for silver coin, buying with that coin the cotton. What is not taken by the Zinder people is taken by Kano. The Kano division of the Kano province consumes all the cotton it grows. So does the Katagum division. The Katsina division exports a percentage to Kano and consumes the rest. The soil of this division compares unfavourably with that of Kano, except in the southern district, where it is even better than in Kano. In this district cotton-growing forms the principal means of livelihood of the inhabitants. The total annual output of the Kano province is estimated at about 5200 tons—3500 from the Kano division, 1000 from the Katsina division, 700 from Katagum-Hadeija. But these figures are mere estimates, and not over-reliable at that. The country is too extensive and the British occupation too recent to permit of accuracy in such matters at present. I was unable to obtain even an estimate of the Zaria output, which is, of course, very much lower—probably about one-fifth, or less than that at Kano.

As already remarked, the whole of the crop now grown is used by the local industry (except the Association’s purchases this year, which I will refer to in a moment). So far this industry not only shows no signs of decreasing, but the demand, especially from the southern markets is, I was told, steadily increasing. The advent of the railway may, apart from the activities of the Association, modify the situation appreciably through the increasing influx of Manchester goods. As well-being increases—and up to a certain point it is doing and will do so as the result of our occupation—the consumption of Manchester goods wall doubtless increase, but it does not altogether follow that the output of the native looms will decrease. It is curious that the Kano weavers themselves think that the railway will enlarge their market. I was informed that the natives of the south, who have been in touch with Manchester cotton goods for many years, very much prefer the Kano cloths, which although dearer, are much more durable. In the north I heard frequent complaints of the quality of the Manchester goods imported. Many of them, so I was told, were much too thin, and so heavily starched that on the first washing they became threadbare and useless. I saw nothing on sale in the markets from Manchester suited for the early and late hours of the day. Cheap prints are all very well for the hot hours of the late morning and afternoon. But the people require warmer garments than that. I used to strike camp when trekking at about 5 a.m. or 5.30 a.m., and at that time, and for a couple of hours afterwards, I was glad of two sweaters over a khaki shirt, riding. When the sun goes down it is equally chilly. The robes worn by the better-class natives are of a consistency and weight which would astonish us here.

I am persuaded that the British Cotton-growing Association is in every way worthy of support, that its ideal is a fine one and a patriotic one, and that the West African dependencies of Southern and Northern Nigeria are very much indebted to it. At the same time I should not be giving honest expression to the views I have rightly or wrongly formed if I did not enter a _caveat_ against any Government action calculated to undermine or destroy the weaving industry of the Kano province. That industry may disappear as the result of natural causes. But nothing should be done by the Administration to assist its decay. Frankly, I am compelled to state that from the standpoint of the happiness and welfare of these Hausa people, our wards, the disappearance of their national industry would be deplorable. It would lower their outlook and stunt their development, and send them down in the scale of civilization. Their intelligence is of an order which would enable them under tuition to advance their methods of production beyond the hand-loom. While the duty of the Administration to lend its moral support, as it is doing, from the Governor, Sir Henry Hesketh Bell (who is most interested in this question) downwards, to any legitimate effort directed at increasing the area of cotton under cultivation, increasing the yield per acre by improving the fertility of the soil, facilitating communication and the accessibility of markets, is unquestioned, I submit that there is an equally clear call of duty on its part to encourage rather than discourage an indigenous industry of great antiquity, of wonderful promise, which is at once a source of profit to, and an elevating influence in, the life of the people of the land.

I have now endeavoured to sketch the chief factors to be considered in estimating the possibilities of a substantial export trade in raw cotton from Northern Nigeria. There remains to be examined the question of price and of competing articles of production. The British Cotton-growers Association’s _début_ at Zaria has been attended with no little success. They bought this season, I believe, something like 60,000 lbs. of cotton, a considerable proportion of which, I am informed, came from the Katsina division of Kano. Whilst the Association’s buyers, lent to its representative by the authorities, could not compete in price with the Kano and Zinder buyers in the big markets, they competed successfully with them in the remoter small markets of the province which buyers from the native weaving interest do not usually visit.

I hope I shall not be thought desirous of “crabbing” the Association’s efforts or minimising what they have accomplished if I venture to point out that there would be some danger—of which the Association is doubtless aware—in drawing too definite conclusions from these first and satisfactory results. The taxes fell due in Zaria province at the time of the maturing of the crop, and the growers were anxious for cash to meet them. The Emir of Katsina is a very intelligent man and wishful of encouraging in every way he can any desires he deems the Government to entertain. His influence would be directed to giving a tangible proof of his interest and goodwill. This desire would be shared by his people, by whom he is personally respected. It would be unwise, however, to imagine that Katsina farmers will permanently be willing to send their cotton all the way to Zaria for 1_d._ per lb., when in the ordinary run of things they can get as much, if not more, than 1_d._ from the native weaving interest. If the cotton were bought on the spot the farmers might be willing to sell at 1_d._ The question of price is bound to play an important part in the interesting developments which have now begun. Taking year in year out, the local price of cotton in Zaria and Kano varies from 1¼_d._ to 2_d._ per lb. in the seed. In Zaria last November and December it varied from 1⅝_d._ to 2_d._ In Kano it kept at 2_d._ throughout November, December, and part of January, having fallen from 2¼_d._ in September. In the latter part of January it fell temporarily to 1_d._ It went up again to 2_d._ in February. The bright side consists in the possibility—the probability, perhaps—that the knowledge of a permanent and unlimited market at a fixed price, albeit a low one, in their midst will incline farmers to patronize that market (and increase their acreage), assuring them as it does of an immediate sale. Personally, I cannot but think that the Association will have to put up its price if it is to obtain substantial quantities. Competition here, as in Southern Nigeria, would undoubtedly tend to increase production, but I believe that the advent of the European merchant to Zaria and Kano is to be characterized by the same arrangement as I have already commented upon in Southern Nigeria. There is, of course, what there is not in Southern Nigeria, an element of competition in the Northern provinces—viz. the native weaving interest—and the play of these two forces, if both are allowed a fair field, will, no doubt, have a stimulating effect in itself.

Another element comes in here which is worthy of note. I refer to the price of foodstuffs. Everywhere the price of foodstuffs is growing with our occupation of the country. Round the main highways and large markets it has risen enormously in the past eighteen months. In one part of the Niger province the native farmer now reckons upon getting, I was informed, £8 to £10 per acre out of yams. Cotton at 1_d._ per lb. would bring him in from £3 to £4. That is rather an extreme case, I admit, nor does the whole country produce yams, and the farmers generally do not appear yet to have fully grasped the economic importance for them of the increased demand for foodstuffs. On the other hand, it is, of course, true that the sowing of cotton between the ordinary food crops is not uncommon.

I have thought it well to describe the position just as I read it, and to make certain suggestions, the outcome of personal observation and discussion on the spot. It may well be that in certain respects I have read the situation wrong and that the suggestions made are faulty. Prediction at the present time, I am convinced, must be largely made in the dark, and they are no friends of the British Cotton-growing Association who describe the outlook in Nigeria in “high falutin’” terms. It is too soon to say how matters will develop. That development will in any case be slow may be taken for granted. The Administration is in urgent need of a properly equipped agricultural department with at the head of it the very best man that money can secure.

Reviewing the whole situation, the only definite conclusions I have been able to arrive at in my own mind are—first, that all attempts at giving an artificial basis to cotton production in the Nigerias will, in the long run, defeat its own ends; secondly, that by some means or other the price paid to the native farmer must be raised if any extension of the industry worth talking about is to be looked for. Everywhere in Northern Nigeria, whether the personal view inclines to optimism or pessimism, I found the officials without exception deeply interested in and anxious to assist in every way the effort to build up an export industry in cotton, and fully persuaded of the great importance and value of the work of the Association.