Chapter XV: Civilisation

What tremendous import lies behind the single word that heads this final chapter! Indeed, it may be the key-word to the whole future of the universe, for civilisation, or rather, over-civilisation, is swaying the world from all reasonable balance, while we drift with the tide, or struggle unheard: and no plan evolves to set back the engulfing flood.

I have a dictionary before me which clearly states that to civilise is:

“To reclaim from barbarism; to instruct in arts and refinements.”

If civilisation succeeded to that end alone it would be a happy world indeed. But has not the so-called civilisation of to-day decidedly turned toward other intents altogether, where greed and selfishness largely play an absorbing part?

This may be said not only of our own land, but of the whole of the civilised world, which feels the weight of industrial despondency, and I dwell on these thoughts without rancour toward my fellows, for no one can foretell the purpose of evolution.

Fortunate are those who can accept the circumstances of life with grave thoughtfulness rather than consternation; and that is a rich teaching, learned, so far as I am concerned, in the world’s wilderness, where life is sweet and realities naked. To those whose lot it is to look on, how empty seems the frantic blame of parliament that succeeds parliament in the government of countries, and how like the howlings of wolves who have lost the trail to more successful competitors who have gone ahead. For parliaments, when all is said and done, strive to make the best of the material in their hands; and that material is largely concerned with complex humanity, which no human power shall ever completely content.

Wherefore it is the clamourings of the wolves that is, as an empty noise, to be condemned as wholly unworthy of any peace-loving community that would prosper. It is they who are out to prey, and, dissatisfied, unscrupulous, hungry for spoil, they care neither for honour nor what they wreck to gain their gluttonous ends.

But if my wanderings far afield have taught me anything, it is that we each of us have in our own keeping a very precious possession that either brightens or slurs our environment. I refer to individual character, which is, after all, since units make the mass, the source that shall always decide the nature and ideals of society. Hence, be circumstances what they may, the individual character has it in its power to be a significant force in the universe; _so long as it is strong, and of sterling worthiness_.

Wherefore, may it not be that the restlessness and dissatisfaction of modern life is in a minority of characters that are weak and lacking in manliness, and from that source are forthcoming the extremists whose insane attacks on all things as they exist destroy the confidence and tranquillity upon which all true progress flourishes?

There is no denying that there is a mean spirit abroad at the present time, a bad patch of inferior material, as it were; but I cannot believe it is anything more serious than that. And therein lies my faith that the simple meaning of civilisation shall one day be recovered, so that men may turn to their dictionaries again, and comprehend when they read that to civilise is:

“To reclaim from barbarism; to instruct in arts and refinements.”

My chief concern, however, in approaching this subject is to enter on some strange outside impressions of our country, come by in a curious way, in the hope that they may help to show that dissatisfaction with one’s lot is not always justified, and that it is usually possible to find others in circumstances worse than one’s own.

I thought I knew what was meant by poverty before I went to the Sahara (for my life had not been an easy one), but the Great Desert and its people taught me otherwise. Wherefore, when the sudden transition came and I left behind that land of primitive people and ancient customs to regain the heart of civilisation, it was an experience that keyed up the senses to acute receptiveness and tremendous appreciation. Everything was a luxury; everything accepted with thankfulness, and one quarter of the most humble of the comforts that came my way would have filled me with equal content.

So may it be when the mind of man has learned humbleness from a background of desert that holds _nothing_.

But, if the sudden change of environment was full of incident in my case, it can be readily conceived that Ali’s and Sakari’s first view of civilisation was even more exciting, and filled them with astonishment and wonder.

The lifelong background, to them, was primitive Africa. Previous to joining the caravan they had both lived for many years in Kano, the great Hausa trade centre of Northern Nigeria, and one of the most remarkable native cities in the world. An environment of humble, low, mud-walled huts and narrow sandy lanes had always been theirs, and heat and flies and a dense population, with meagre sufficiency of food, their intimate atmosphere. To them luxury was unknown, and, not knowing it, they were happy. Indeed, Kano is a town of laughter, and its people healthy and content amid a humbleness and simplicity that is as yet unspoiled, and natural to them.

The language familiar to Ali and Sakari is Hausa; though Arabic is the native tongue of the former. However, for the purpose in view, Hausa will not serve, and therefore, in endeavouring to give some of their impressions of this country as closely as possible, I will, in the main, have recourse to their _Pidgin English_. To give some idea of this curious and amusing African patois, I will, before proceeding to the main subject, cite some expressions that were familiar during the late expedition:

“Wait small,” i.e. Wait a little.

“He live small,” i.e. The meal is not quite ready.

“Time no reach,” i.e. It is not yet the time appointed.

“Excuse me small,” i.e. Please give room to let me pass.

“He no live,” i.e. When someone cannot be found when wanted.

“This day I be _black_ all over,” i.e. In a bad temper. (No reference to colour.)

“Them French be palava people,” i.e. Talkative people.

“Jeasers,” i.e. Scissors.

Sakari, when asked if he has cleaned my gun:

“I done dust him, sir!”

Sakari, telling he has looked for a lost knife:

“Them knife: I find him all, I no look him.”

Sakari, when asked if he has found a lost button:

“You make I find him for them place this morning; I find him, I no see him.”

Sakari, having brought a local native to me who can mend a broken frying-pan:

“Look this man! Him say he fit go make them fry pan well.”

Sakari, describing that two men are brothers:

“The mother what born him be mother for that man, too. Them all belong one mother.”

Sakari, referring to one of the camel-men who is exhausted:

“All him strong gone.”

Sakari, referring to the state of my wardrobe when everything is in rags:

“All them clothes broke.”

Sakari, when asked if he has properly killed a lizard before skinning it, chuckled and replied:

“No, sir! Him hard for die.”

“Where is the butter, Sakari?”

“He go die,” i.e. It is finished.

Native, asking for a shilling with the head of Queen Victoria on it:

“I want them money with woman that live for inside.”

Native, having difficulty to cook in a high wind:

“This breeze no fit let them fire stand up.”

Native, detecting that something is burning:

“Some cloth go burn? I hear him smell.”

All through the expedition the natives had to crush their own grain into meal—always the woman’s task at home. One day I said to Sakari:

“Now you savvy how to beat them meal plenty fine you will be able to save your wife much work.”

He replied:

“Oh no, sir! When I go catch Kano again I lose him sense plenty quick. I no be fool go tell my wife that.”

With two unsophisticated worthies like Ali and Sakari, fresh from the wilderness, I had to be prepared for anything when we landed in England. To say that they were excited and astonished would be putting it mildly indeed. They were amazed. In Hausa, when addressing me, or in _pidgin English_, when speaking to others, they expressed bewilderment of all they saw, and were as delighted as children on an eventful holiday. Everything was novel to them. Everything required explanation.

On the way up to town we had the first inkling of amusing incidents in store. The event was unexpected. The train suddenly rushed into a tunnel and simultaneously my natives, who surely thought the end had come, were stricken dumb with fear. When the train regained the daylight Sakari was sitting drawn up in a corner with big, frightened eyes, and he gasped:

“O master! I think this train no go take the right road.”

On reaching London, quarters were found for Ali and Sakari in Gower Street. They were disappointed and almost alarmed when they learned that they could no longer _camp_ beside me, and uneasy at the thought of being separated. Ali’s greatest concern was that he could no longer follow my footprints:

“This no be _Tenere_ [desert], Master! If you are lost, how I be fit go see your foot on these rocks?” (paved streets).

However, I assured them I would come and see them each day, and with that they had to be content.

During the forenoon of the next day I saw them again. Both complained of stiff necks.

“What’s the matter?” I queried.

They grinned broadly, and replied:

“Yesterday we go walk and walk, and all time we go look for top them high house; O Master, they be plenty fine past house of Kano. _Them house tall plenty, plenty; but to-day neck be sick_. Only way man fit go look for up proper be for him lie down on road [street] same same as when sleep for camp.”

The endless streets lined with innumerable houses were further source of wonderment. On one occasion, after walking for an hour or so through a maze of closely built thoroughfares, they came out into Regent’s Park to exclaim:

“Ah! now we go look _the desert of London_; this ground no have house for him.”

In the streets they expressed surprise that everyone ate indoors and that no one was seen sitting down to food by the side of the open thoroughfare, as was common enough in their own country.

The huge population of the metropolis also came in for much comment, and they speedily realised that there were more people in London than in the whole of Kano emirate.

One day, Ali informed me that:

“There be plenty plenty people for this town who all be different, and who sit and say nothing.”

This I could not comprehend, until slowly it dawned on me that he was referring to _the monuments of London—“The people who sit and say nothing.”_

While on the subject of monuments, the first silver currency in Nigeria had the head of Queen Victoria on the one side, and hence the shilling became widely known among the Hausa natives as _Silli mai mammie_ (the shilling that has the mother). One day, when passing Buckingham Palace, Ali and Sakari came in view of the monument of Queen Victoria. At once they recognised the head, and excitedly pointed and exclaimed:

“Look there! It is the lady of the shilling.”

I doubt if anyone could have guessed what would be the three very first things to strike deeply upon the imaginations of Ali and Sakari when they first entered London.

They were: _Policemen in uniform, wax models, and babies in perambulators_.

The police were:

“Magic men, who, when they go put up hand, they fit go stop all the people.”

Wax models:

“English magic. This people savvy how to make woman same same for live.”

Babies in perambulators were remarkable because of the novelty of seeing infants carefully wheeled “in small motor-car” with a nurse in attendance, for in their own country their youngsters are carried on the backs of the womenfolk, or more or less left to take their chance of life by the hut doors.

Of all they saw, then and thereafter, Ali and Sakari frankly concluded, times without number:

“Ki! White men go catch plenty plenty sense! All savvy work plenty fine. They be kings of work—all!” “All the people go catch money for this country. It plenty sweet past our country.”

And these were impressions they eventually carried back to spread far afield. And in this way, all unbeknown, the character of a nation may sometimes go forth broadcast before the world.

From London, Ali and Sakari accompanied me to my home in Scotland. They were made comfortable in an adjoining outhouse, and allotted a suitable place to make a camp-fire outdoors, where they delighted to sit and cook their meals in natural fashion.

Here, again, their pleasure in everything new afforded constant amusement.

Scotland does not lack for water. The river Tay, flowing near the house, was a feast indeed for eyes that well knew the drawbacks of an arid land, and the dreadful thirst of the desert. And the two natives were content to sit for hours, lost in contemplation of the swiftly flowing perpetual water that would represent unbounded prosperity if only it could be transported to their own land.

But this worship of water had its drawbacks when Ali made the gleeful discovery that all he had to do to get water in the house was to turn on a tap. Thereafter we caught him, repeatedly, standing wrapt before the scullery sink with taps full on watching to see:

“If them water be fit ever go run dry.”

When it rained thoughts always veered to the Sahara, and more than once Ali remarked:

“Allah send plenty rain for this country, and so He go forget the desert all the time.

“Suppose Sahara fit look this rain all the people catch plenty food.”

During the first morning at home I took the two natives on to the golf-course. For a little time they walked, feeling the closely knit turf under their feet, then they dropped to their knees and ran their hands over the grass, looking about them with delight.

“Ki! All be grass, master! All the ground find him plenty good. The eye sees not sand anywhere; not even between the blades.”

“Here be plenty plenty food for _Rakumi_” (camels).

“In the desert this be all sand for sure, and no grass. So, so, all time Allah give plenty good things for this country.”

On another occasion I took them out to look on while ferreting rabbits. I had also my retriever with me. When the first rabbit was shot, however, there was no need to send the dog to fetch it, for there was a wild scramble on the part of both the boys, who reached the “bunny” together, and straightway proceeded to cut its throat in true Mohammedan fashion. A second rabbit was treated in the same way, and then the two worthies were quite ready to set off home.

Half an hour later, while the rabbits were still warm, I found my followers beside their camp-fires in the yard with their prizes skinned and pierced on sticks, roasting before the blaze. This was their idea of _a real feast of fresh meat_, and the first they had had an opportunity of enjoying to the full since they had landed in the country.

But they were never difficult to please with food, and their usual dish, eaten twice a day, about 11 a.m. and again in the evening, consisted usually of butcher meat mixed with rice, potatoes, cloves, nutmeg, and plenty of olive oil. This strangely seasoned mixture was of their own choosing and was:

“Sweet past food for Kano.”

My wife tried to induce them to eat with knives and forks, but they were much more at home with their fingers.

Sheep are the choice animals for ceremonial sacrifice in their own land. Hence they cast longing eyes on the black-faced variety that pastured on the hills near my home, and kept asking me to kill one for them for _Sadaka_ (almsgiving); and so that they might take the skin to Nigeria:

“To show all the people for Kano the plenty fine hair [wool] that live for _Rago_ [sheep] in England.”

In their newly found domestic life, one of the greatest delights to Ali and Sakari was _to possess a whole bar of Sunlight soap_, and they were seized with a passion for washing themselves and their clothes whenever they obtained such luxury.

Thus, in endless ways, they slowly absorbed the atmosphere of their novel surroundings with artless, unsullied minds and constant good-humour. They saw things as they existed with innocent penetration and directness; and ever they came back to such remarks as:

“White man go catch plenty plenty sense; everybody catch plenty clothes; everybody catch plenty to eat. This no be desert; this country sweet past all country.”

But they came to be greatly exercised because:

“When we go give this big news of England to people for Kano we will have so much to tell that plenty people no fit go believe us.”

Wherefore, to prove that, at least, they had been in this country, they made an extraordinary request. This was _to remove two perfectly good teeth from their heads and have gold ones inserted_, so that:

“When we go for Kano and people no fit believe we go look this country, we say, ‘Ah! ah! you be fool man. Look them Gold Teeth!’ And so they will be convinced; for our people no savvy them sense for put gold for head.”

Their request, which was a persistent one, was finally granted, and Ali and Sakari became the proud possessors of “gold for head.”

Ali had, then, only one great ambition left: to some day make the pilgrimage to Mecca, which is the dream of so many true Mohammedans:

“And then I be BIG past all men that live for Kano.”

Sakari, on the other hand, planned the disposal of the money he had earned:

“When I go Kano I buy another wife, _fine past the one that live now_.

“After that I go buy house from Emir.”

Asked how much a house would cost, he replied:

“They be different, sir! Some get £15; some get £10; some get £6 to £7. If buy him so, all the time he be my own.”

Then he added:

“But I no look for front [forward] too much, Master! for it will be like the _Tenere_ [desert] when you are gone.”

They were faithful, able men, and when the parting came it was one of deep regret, filled with distressing artless emotion on the part of Ali and Sakari; which revealed the wonderful fidelity of these two fine henchmen of the Open Road, who had stuck with the expedition through thick and thin.

And it may be a fitting finish to give Ali’s description of the desert that we had left behind.

“Gentle people, I salute you! I give you news of the desert. It is a land of sand and wind and want. If you would visit it? tighten your belt plenty, as a giant. There is no lying down in comfort, for there is no medicine for the Sun by day, nor for the Great Winds by night. There is never plenty food, and if water is not found, then one dies—that is the desert!

“All my people ’fraid of that Sahara country, and plenty plenty people say we no fit go, because robber people, no food, no water, no sticks for fire, and all that.

“Only strong man fit go walka that country, and some strong men begin to die after we go start.

“Plenty people tell master he go die, but master only say: ‘All right, he go all same.’

“After I go look them desert, I think I no go live to see England. But Allah is kind! and I have looked on this country, which be plenty plenty fine—and I go my way in content.”

APPENDICES

APPENDIX I

SCIENTIFIC NOMENCLATURE OF SAHARAN BIRD LIFE

All numerals coincide with those before each common name in