Edward FitzGerald - "Letters of Edward FitzGerald in Two Volumes"

Harriet S. Caswell - "Stories and Sketches"

Maria Edgeworth - "The Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth, Vol. 1"

Luke Limner - "Christmas Comes but Once A Year"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

From Pole to Pole

S >> Sven Anders Hedin >> From Pole to Pole





OSTRICHES

Now all is changed in the Sudan. A railway runs from the Nile delta up
to Khartum, and another connects Berber with the Red Sea. In Khartum
there are schools, hospitals, churches, and other public buildings, and
one can travel safely by steamboat up to the great lakes. Gordon's
scheme to connect the Victoria Nyanza with Mombasa on the coast has been
carried out, and a railway has been constructed through British East
Africa. White men have advanced from all sides deeper and deeper into
the Black Continent, and have made themselves masters of almost all
Africa. Wild animals have suffered by this intrusion into their formerly
peaceful domain, and their numbers have been diminished by the chase. In
some districts game has quite disappeared, the animals having sought
remoter regions where they can live undisturbed.

In the Sahara, in the Libyan desert, on the open grasslands along the
Upper Nile, on the veldt of South Africa, wherever the country is open
and free, lives the ostrich; but it does not occur in the worst desert
tracts, which it crosses only in case of necessity, for it likes to have
water always near at hand.

The appearance of the ostrich is no doubt familiar. It is powerfully
built; its long bare neck supports a small flattened head with large
bright eyes; the long legs rest on two toes; and the wings are so small
that the animal is always restricted to the surface of the ground,
where, however, it can move with remarkable swiftness. The valuable
feathers grow on the wings. The ostrich attains a height of eight feet,
and when full grown may weigh as much as 165 pounds.

Ostriches live in small flocks of only five or six birds. They feed in
the morning, chiefly on plants, but they also devour small animals and
reptiles. By midday their stomachs are full, and they rest or play,
leaping in circles over the sand, regardless of the blazing sun or the
heated ground. Then they drink and wander about eating in the afternoon.
In the evening they seek their roosting-places.

Sight is the ostrich's acutest sense, but its scent and hearing are also
sharp. When it is pursued, it darts off with fluttering wings, taking
steps ten or twelve feet long. It is always on the look-out for danger,
and the zebra likes to keep near it to avail itself of the bird's
watchfulness. In North Africa the Arabs hunt the ostrich on swift horses
or running dromedaries. Two or three horsemen follow a male, which after
an hour's course is tired out, and gradually relaxes its pace. The
horses also are tired after such a chase, but one of the riders urges on
his steed to a last spurt, rushes past the ostrich, and hits it on the
head so that it falls to the ground. The bird is then skinned, the skin
being turned inside out so as to form a bag for the feathers. The
feathers of the wild ostrich are much finer and more valuable than those
of the tame. A full-grown ostrich has only fourteen of the largest white
feathers.

The hens lay their eggs in a shallow hollow in loamy or sandy soil, and
it is the male bird which sits on the eggs. In the daytime the nest may
be left for hours, but then the ostriches cover the eggs with sand. The
young ones leave their shells after six weeks and go out into the
desert. They are already as large as fowls, but then an ostrich egg
weighs as much as twenty-four hen's eggs, and measures six inches along
its greatest diameter.

The ostrich is remarkably greedy, and turns away from nothing. The great
zoologist, Brehm, who had tame ostriches under his care, reports that
they ate rats and chickens and swallowed small stones and potsherds, and
once or twice his bunch of keys disappeared down the stomach of an
ostrich. In one ostrich's stomach was found nine pounds of
"ballast"--stones, rags, buttons, bits of metal, coins, keys, etc.

Some say that the ostrich is inconceivably stupid, but others will not
accept such a severe condemnation. The traveller Schillings, who is
noted for his photographs of big game in Africa taken at night by
flashlight, once followed the spoor of some lions for several hours.
Suddenly he came upon an ostrich's nest with newly hatched chickens, and
he wondered where the parents were. To his astonishment, he found that
the lion had not touched the defenceless creatures, and he soon
discovered the reason. In the moonlight night the ostriches had
perceived the danger in time and sprang up to lure the lion away from
the nest. Their stratagem succeeded, for it was evident from the spoor
that the lion had pursued the flying ostriches farther and farther from
the nest. And when the pair of ostriches thought that they had enticed
the king of animals far enough off, they returned home.


BABOONS

Baboons are monkeys which resemble dogs rather than human beings, and
almost always remain on the ground, seldom climbing trees. They are
cruel, malicious, and cunning, their expression is fierce and savage,
and their eyes wicked. Among their allies they are surpassed in strength
only by the gorilla; and they are bold and spirited, and do not shun a
deadly struggle with the leopard. They have sharp and powerful teeth
with which to defend themselves, and their tusks are very formidable.

The old Egyptians paid deep homage to the sacred apes, which belong to
the baboon tribe, and had them represented on their monuments as judges
in the kingdom of death. They live in large companies among the cliffs
of the Red Sea coast of Nubia and Abyssinia, but they also occur in the
interior on high mountains. Roots, fruits, worms, and snails are their
chief food. They are afraid of snakes, but they catch scorpions,
carefully pinching off the poison gland before eating the reptiles. When
durra fields are in the neighbourhood of the baboons' haunts, watchmen
must be posted, or the animals work great havoc among the grain. And
when they are out on a raid, they, too, have sentinels on the lookout in
every direction.

During the night and when it rains they sit huddled up among
inaccessible rocks, whither they climb with wonderful activity. They
sally forth in the morning to satisfy their hunger, returning to the
high rocks at noon. Afterwards they go to the nearest brook or spring to
drink, and after another meal retire for the night.

If a party of such baboons, consisting perhaps of a hundred individuals,
is sitting in a row near the edge of a cliff and suddenly becomes aware
of a threatening danger--as, for instance, a prowling leopard--they all
utter the most singular noises, grunting, shrieking, barking, and
growling. The old males go to the edge and look down into the valley,
fuss about and show their ugly tusks and strike their forepaws against
the sides of the rock with a loud smack. The young ones seek their
mother's protection and keep behind them.

Brehm once surprised such a party huddled together on the margin of a
cliff. The first shot that echoed through the valley roused the greatest
commotion and displeasure, and the monkeys howled and bellowed in
chorus. Then they began to move with astonishing activity and
surefootedness. Two more shots thundered through the valley, doing no
damage but increasing their panic and fury. At every fresh shot they
halted a moment, beat their paws against the rocks and yelled abuse at
their disturbers. The front of the cliff seemed in some places to be
vertical, but the baboons climbed about everywhere. At the next bend of
the road the whole troop came down into the valley, intending to
continue their flight among the rocks on the opposite side. Two sporting
dogs in Brehm's caravan flew off like arrows after the troop of baboons,
but before they could come up with it, the old baboons halted, turned
round and presented such a terrible front to the dogs that these quickly
turned back. When the dogs were hounded on to the baboons a second time,
most of the latter were already safe among the rocks, only a few
remaining in the valley, among them a small young one. Frightened at the
onslaught of the dogs, the little creature fled shrieking up a boulder,
while the dogs stood round its base. Brehm wished to catch the young one
alive, but just then an old male came calmly to the boulder, taking no
heed of the danger. He turned his fierce eyes on the dogs, controlling
them with his gaze, jumped up on to the block, whispered some calming
sound into the ear of the young one, and set out on his return with his
protege. The dogs were so cowed that they never attacked, and both the
young baboon and his rescuer were able to retire unmolested to their
friends.


THE HIPPOPOTAMUS

In the lakes and rivers of all central Africa lives the large, clumsy,
and ugly hippopotamus. In former times it occurred also in Lower Egypt,
where it was called the river hog, but at the present day it is
necessary to go a good distance south of Nubia in order to find it. In
many rivers it migrates with the seasons. It descends the river as this
falls in the dry season, and moves up again when the bed is filled by
rain.

The body of the hippopotamus is round and clumsy, and is supported by
four short shapeless legs with four hoofed toes on each foot. The
singular head is nearly quadrangular, the eyes and ears are small, the
snout enormously broad and the nostrils wide (Plate XXIX.). The hairless
hide, three-quarters of an inch thick, changes from grey to dark brown
and dirty red according as it is dry or wet. The animal is thirteen feet
long, without the small short tail, and weighs as much as thirty
full-grown men.

The hippopotamus spends most of his time in the water, but goes on land
at night, especially in those districts where the rivers do not afford
much food. Stealing carefully along a quiet river the traveller may
often take him by surprise, and see two small jets of water rise from
his nostrils when he comes up to breathe, snorting and puffing noisily.
Then he dives again, and can remain under water three or four minutes.
When he lies near the surface only six small knobs are seen above the
water, the ears, eyes, and nostrils. If he is not quite sure of the
neighbourhood, he thrusts only his nostrils above water and breathes as
noiselessly as possible.

Hippopotami often lie splashing in shallow water, or climb up on to the
bank to sun themselves and have a quiet lazy time. Very frequently they
are heard to make a grunting noise of satisfaction. When evening comes
they seek the deeper parts of the river, where they swim up and down,
chase one another, and roll about in the water with great nimbleness and
activity. They swim with great speed, throwing themselves forward in
jerks, and filling the air with their gurgling bellowing cry; yet if
they like they can swim so quietly that not the least ripple is heard. A
wounded hippopotamus stirs up the water so that a small canoe may
capsize in the swell from his forequarters.

When several old males are bellowing together, the din is heard for
miles through the forest and rolls like thunder over the water. No other
animal can make such a noise. Even the lion stops to listen.

On the Upper Nile, above Khartum, where the most luxuriant vegetation
struggles for room on the banks, and the river often loses itself in
lakes and swamps, the hippopotamus, like the crocodile, seldom goes
ashore. Here he lives under lotus plants and papyrus leaves, soft reeds
and all the other juicy vegetation that thrives in water-logged ground.
He dives and rummages for a couple of minutes, stirring up the water far
around. When he has his huge mouth full of stems and leaves, he comes up
to the surface again, and the water streams in cataracts off his rounded
body.

[Illustration: PLATE XXIX. A HIPPOPOTAMUS.]

In districts where he goes on land to graze, he often works great damage
among the corn and green crops, and may even attack the villagers. And
he is not always to be trifled with if a canoe disturbs his repose. The
most dangerous is a mother when her young ones are small. She carries
them on her back as she swims and dives, sometimes to the bottom of the
river. A gun must be heavily loaded if the shot is to have any effect on
such a monster, and penetrate such a cuirass of hide. If the animal
puffs and dives, he is lost to the hunter; but if he raises himself high
out of the water and then falls again with a heavy thud, the wound is
mortal and the hippopotamus sinks to the bottom. After an hour or two
the body rises to the surface again.

Some negro tribes on the White Nile dig pitfalls for hippopotami, and on
the rivers which enter Lake Ngami (see map, p. 262) on its northern
shore the natives hunt for them with harpoons, much in the same way as
whales are killed in the northern and southern oceans. The harpoons have
a sharp barbed blade of iron, and this point is secured by strong string
to a stout shaft of wood, the end of which is attached by a line to a
float. Two canoes are dragged on to a raft of bundles of reed tied
together, and between them the black hunters crouch with harpoons and
light javelins in their hands. When all is ready, the raft is pushed out
into the current and drifts noiselessly down the river. The huge animals
can be heard rolling and splashing in the water in the distance, but
they are still hidden behind a bed of reeds. The raft glides gently past
the point, but the hippopotami suspect no danger. One of them comes up
close beside the raft. The harpooner stands up like a flash of lightning
and drives his sharp weapon with all his strength into the animal's
flank. The wounded hippopotamus dives immediately to the bottom, and the
line runs out. The float follows the hippopotamus wherever he takes his
flight, and the canoes, now in the water, follow. When the brute comes
up again, he is received with a shower of javelins, and dives again,
leaving a blood-red streak behind him. He may be irritated when he is
attacked time after time by spears, and it may happen that he turns on
his persecutors and crushes a too venturesome canoe with his great
tusks, or gives it a blow underneath with his head. Sometimes the animal
is not content with the canoes, but attacks the men, and many too daring
hunters have lost their lives in this way. When the hippopotamus has
been sufficiently tired out, the hunters pick up the float, and take
the line ashore to wind it round a tree, and then they pull with all
their might to draw the creature up out of the water.

The flesh is eaten everywhere, especially that of the young animals, and
the tongue and the fat of the older ones are considered delicacies.
Riding-whips, shields, and many other articles are made out of the hide,
and the large tusks are valuable. Hippopotami may be seen in some of the
zoological gardens in Europe, but they do not thrive well in the care of
man.


MAN-EATING LIONS

A terrible tale of man-eating lions is told by Colonel Patterson in his
book _The Man-Eaters of Tsavo_.

Colonel Patterson had been ordered for service on the Uganda Railway,
which runs from Mombasa north-westwards through British East Africa to
the great lake Victoria Nyanza, the largest source-lake of the Nile. But
in 1898, when the Colonel arrived, the railway had not been carried
farther than the Tsavo, a tributary of the Sabaki, which enters the sea
north of Mombasa. Here at Tsavo (see map, p. 237) the Colonel had his
headquarters, and in the neighbourhood were camped some thousands of
railway coolies from India. A temporary wooden bridge crossed the Tsavo,
and the Colonel was to build a permanent iron bridge over the river, and
had besides the supervision of the railway works for thirty miles in
each direction.

Some days after his arrival at Tsavo the Colonel heard of two lions
which made the country unsafe. He paid little heed to these reports
until a couple of weeks later, when one of his own servants was carried
off by a lion. A comrade, who had a bed in the same tent, had seen the
lion steal noiselessly into the camp in the middle of the night, go
straight to the tent, and seize the man by the throat. The poor fellow
cried out "Let go," and threw his arms round the beast's neck, and then
the silence of night again fell over the surroundings. Next morning the
Colonel was able to follow the lion's spoor easily, for the victim's
heels had scraped along the sand all the way. At the place where the
lion had stopped to make his meal, only the clothes and head of the
unfortunate man were found, with the eyes fixed in a stare of terror.

Disturbed by this sight and the sorrowful occurrence, the Colonel made a
solemn oath that he would give himself no rest until both the lions
were dead. Gun in hand, he climbed up into a tree close by his servants'
tent and waited. The night was quiet and dark. In the distance was heard
a roar, which came nearer as the two man-eaters stole up in search of
another victim. Then there was silence again, for lions always attack in
silence, though when they start on their night prowl they utter their
hoarse, awful cry, as though to give warning to the men and animals in
the neighbourhood. The Colonel waited. Then he heard a cry of terror and
despair from another camp a hundred yards away, and after that all was
still again. A man had been seized and dragged away.

Now the Colonel chose a waiting-place where the last man had been
carried off, but here, too, he was disappointed. A heart-rending shriek
rang through the night at still another part of the camp, and another
workman was missing.

The Indian workmen lay in several scattered camps, and evidently the
lions chose a fresh camp every night to mislead the men. When they found
that they could carry off a man with impunity every night or every other
night, they grew bolder, and showed not the least fear of the camp
fires, which were always kept alight. They paid no heed to the noise and
tumult they caused, or even to gunshots fired at them in the darkness. A
tall, thick fence of tough, thorny bushes was erected round each camp as
a protection, but the lions always jumped over or broke through it when
they wanted a man. In the daytime the Colonel followed their tracks,
which were plainly visible through the thickets, but of course could not
be perceived on stony ground.

Things became still worse when the rails were laid farther up the
country, and only a few hundred workmen remained with Colonel Patterson
at the Tsavo bridge. He had unusually high and strong fences built up
round his camp, and the fires were enlarged to blazing pyres, watchmen
kept guard, guns were always ready, and within the enclosure empty oil
tins were banged together to scare the beasts if possible. But it was
all no use. Still more victims disappeared. The Indian workmen became so
panic-stricken that they could not shoot, though the lion was often just
in front of them. A patient was taken from the hospital tent, and the
next victim was a water-carrier from another part of the camp. He had
been lying with his head towards the middle of the tent and his legs
outwards. The lion had sprung over the fence, seized the man by the
foot, and dragged him out. In his despair he had grabbed at a box
standing by the tent canvas, and instead had caught hold of a tent rope,
which gave way. Then the lion, with his prey in his mouth, had run along
the fence looking for a weak spot, and when he had found one, he dashed
right through the fence. Next morning fragments of clothing and flesh
were found on the paths. The other lion had waited outside, and they had
consumed their prey together.

Then followed an interval of quiet, during which the lions were engaged
elsewhere. It was hoped that the tranquillity would continue, and the
workmen began to sleep outside because of the heat. One night they were
sitting round a fire, when a lion suddenly jumped noiselessly over the
fence and stood gazing at them. They started up and threw stones, pieces
of wood, and firebrands at the beast, but the lion sprang forward,
seized his man, and dashed through the fence. His companion was waiting
outside, and they were so impudent that they ate their victim only
thirty yards off.

The Colonel sat up at night for a whole week at the camp where a visit
was expected. He says that nothing can be more trying to the nerves than
such a watch, time after time in vain. He always heard the warning roar
in the distance, and knew that it meant, "Look out; we are coming." The
hungry cry sounded hoarser and stronger, and the Colonel knew that one
of his men, or perhaps he himself, would never again see the sun rise
over the jungle in the east, and there was always silence when the
brutes were near. Then the watchmen in the various camps would call out,
"Look out, brothers, the devil is coming." And shortly afterwards a wild
scream of distress and the groans of a victim would proclaim that the
lion's stratagem had been successful again. At last the lions became so
daring that both cleared the fence at once, to seize a man apiece. Once
one lion did not succeed in dragging his man through the fence, and had
to leave him and content himself with a share of his comrade's booty.
The man left behind was so badly mauled that he died before he could be
carried to the hospital tent.

No wonder that the poor workmen, wearied and worn by sleeplessness,
excitement, and fear of death, decided that this state of affairs must
come to an end. They struck. They said that they had come to Africa to
work at the railway, and not to supply food for lions. One fine day they
took a train by storm, put all their belongings into the carriages, took
their seats themselves, and went off to the coast. The courageous men
who remained with the Colonel passed the night in trees, in the station
water-tank, or in covered holes digged down within their tents.

On one occasion the Colonel had invited a friend to come up to Tsavo and
help him against the lions. The train was late, and it was dark when the
guest followed the path through the wood to the camp. He had a servant
with him, who carried a lantern. Half-way a lion rushed down on them
from a rise, tore four deep gashes in the Englishman's back, and would
have carried him off if he had not fired his carbine. Dazed with the
report, the lion loosed his hold and pounced on the servant. Next moment
he had vanished in the darkness with his prey.

A few days later a Suaheli came and said that the lion had seized an
ass, and was engaged in his meal not far away. Guided by the Suaheli,
the Colonel hastened up and could see from a distance the back of the
lion above the bushes. Unfortunately the guide stepped on a twig, and
the lion immediately vanished into impenetrable brushwood. Then the
Colonel ran back and called out all his men. Provided with drums, sheets
of metal and tin cans, they surrounded the thicket, and closed in with a
great noise, while the Colonel kept watch at the place where the animal
would probably come out. Quite right--there he came, huge and fierce,
angry at being disturbed. He came forward slowly, halting frequently,
and looking around. His attention was so taken up by the noise that he
did not notice the sportsman. When he was about thirteen yards off the
Colonel raised his double-barrelled rifle. The lion heard the movement,
struck his front claws into the ground, drew back on to his hind paws as
though to gather himself up for a spring, and snarled wickedly, showing
his murderous fangs. Then the Colonel took aim at the head, pressed the
trigger, and--the rifle missed fire!

Fortunately the lion turned at that moment to go back into the thicket,
and the other shot had no effect but to call forth a furious roar and
hasten his flight. The untrustworthy gun had been borrowed for the
occasion, and after this the Colonel determined to rely on his own
weapon.

The ass lay still untouched. A platform twelve feet high was erected on
poles close to the carcase, and on this the Colonel took up his position
at sunset. The twilight is very short on the equator, and the night soon
grows dark when there is no moon. The nights in Africa's jungles are
silent with an evil-foreboding and awesome silence, which conceals so
many ambushes and costs so many lives. The inhabitants of the jungle may
expect an ambush at any moment. The lonely Colonel waited, gripping his
rifle hard. He relates himself that he felt more and more anxious as
time went on. He knew that the lion would come to feed on the ass, for
no cry of distress was heard from the adjacent camps.

Hist! that sounds like a small twig breaking under a weight. Now it
sounds like a large body crushing through the bushes. Then all is quiet
again. No, a deep breath, a sure sign of hunger, betrays the proximity
of the monster. A terrible roar breaks the stillness of the night. The
lion has perceived the presence of a man. Will he fly? No, far from it,
he scorns the ass and makes for the Colonel. For two hours he prowls
about the platform in gradually diminishing circles. Now the lion has
matured his plan of attack, and goes straight towards the platform for
the decisive spring. The animal is just perceptible against the sandy
ground. When he is quite close the first shot thunders through the
night, the lion utters a frightened roar and plunges into the nearest
bushes. He writhes, and bellows, and moans, but the sounds grow weaker,
till after a few long-drawn breaths all is quiet again. The first
man-eater has met his fate.

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