for he hastened to add that his father had five wives. "My father," he remarked, "is a fine big man, with a good figure, and in Togo, if a man has a good figure, he can get plenty of wives."
As my interpreter possessed what he called "a good figure," I asked him if he had many wives. "Oh no," he replied, in quite an offended tone, "I am a scientist, and I only have one wife."
"How scientist?" was my next question, spoken quite gravely.
"Well," he replied, "I understand German."
"And does your wife understand German too?" I inquired.
"Oh dear, no," he answered, "that is forbidden amongst us, because we hold that it is not good for a woman to be educated."
"And why, pray?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "supposing I return home to-night and issue some instructions to my wife, she would probably, assuming her to have been educated, reply: 'Talk to yourself, my husband, not to me; you cannot teach me anything; I am as clever as you are.' As it is, however, she just obeys my instructions, and says nothing. It is better so."
I was inclined to laugh just at first at this example of negro philosophy, when it suddenly struck me that I had listened to very similar sentiments expressed by men in far more civilised communities. "The girl I shall choose for my wife," I once overheard an eminent lawyer remark, "will not be one of your new-fangled sort, all fads and fancies, but one of the good old-fashioned kind, who will faithfully minister to the comfort of my home and willingly share my bed."
London lawyer and Togo interpreter—there was scarcely a pin to choose between them as regards their outlook on marital life and its duties and obligations. Both cherished at bottom precisely the same sentiments, and neither's ideal of femininity was one whit higher than the other's.
I also had some differences with my cook. He demanded a lot of money for "extras," and so forth, and the results were, as a rule, distinctly disappointing. I was especially struck with the toughness and tastelessness of the meat served at table, until I discovered, quite by accident, that he was in the habit of making soup out of it for his family and relations, we getting the solid—very much solid—residuum. After that I insisted, much against his wish, in superintending his culinary operations, with the result that we got good palatable food at about one-half the cost.
My best servant, or at all events the one I liked best, was a young girl of about fourteen or fifteen, who acted in our dramas, and was my personal attendant between whiles. She was a really nice little lassie, with no nonsense about her, and an excellent taste as regards the most suitable native attire for me to wear in our various plays, and the best way to drape and arrange it. She, too, was a bit of a philosopher in her way, some of her remarks being exceedingly quaint, and yet sensible.
Once, for instance, when I was attired in evening dress for a certain social function I was attending, she started admiring my costume, and on the spur of the moment I said to her: "How would you like to wear clothes such as I am wearing?" Quick as a flash came the answer: "Ma'am, what one can never own, one must not permit one's self to like." There is a world of meaning in that little sentence—especially for our sex—if one stops to weigh it carefully. Nor does it necessarily apply only to dress, but to—well, other things.
Another use I made of my enforced leisure at this time was to learn to cycle, this being by far the easiest way of getting about in southern Togo, where the roads are fairly good. I had several spills, for it must not be imagined that the Togoland roads, good though they are judged by African standards, are in any way comparable with the macadamised highways one cycles over at home. Still, I persevered, and after a while I became a fairly proficient rider.
One advantage I had, and that was not being hampered in any way as regards dress. One returns to nature in equatorial Africa. No tight skirts, but riding-breeches, in which one can move about easily. No high heels or wafer soles, but good strong boots that are alike serviceable and comfortable. No waved hair, because the waves would not remain in for even half an hour in this hot, damp atmosphere.
Of course we were all the while on the look-out for suitable subjects and settings for our pictures. I rigged up a studio out of half a hut, and we filmed many scenes of native life and customs. Amongst other pictures we took was one showing the daily life and work of a native woman, as set forth above. This was entirely my own idea, and when the films came to be developed, and shown in London later on, this one attracted a very great deal of attention indeed.
I found, however, that the native women and girls made far worse subjects for the camera, taking them altogether, than did the men. It was more difficult to get them to pose, or rather, to be strictly accurate, they were always posing whenever the camera started clicking, instead of going about their natural avocations in the ordinary way, which was what I wanted them to do. Their silly giggling, too, used to get on my nerves, and at times made me quite angry.
By permission of
Maj. H. Schomburgk, F.R.G.S.
The Authoress and "Bodyguard" of Tschaudjo Horsemen
Miss Gehrts is in the foreground, mounted on her favourite horse, "Nucki." She is really playing in a native drama for the cinema, and her "bodyguard" consists of "supers" drawn from the tribe mentioned above, who are noted for their fearless and splendid riding.
There were other difficulties also as regards the mechanical part of the business. Occasionally the heat was so great that it almost sufficed to melt the films, or even to set fire to them; and they had to be kept stored, therefore, in a special sort of cooling case, built on the principal of the vacuum flask. Later on, when marching in the far north through the Togoland Sudan, the cases containing the films had themselves to be protected from the heat by being swathed in green banana leaves.
On October 10th I saw wild monkeys for the first time. Near my hut is a mealie field, and they came there at noon every day to eat their dinners. They are queer little creatures, very cunning and amusing, but very shy, so that it is difficult to get near them and study their antics.
Once or twice I went to a native dance, but I must confess that I was not greatly impressed. It amused me for ten minutes or so, but as the movements are always the same I soon grew tired of watching them. And the noise of the native drums is simply deafening, so much so that it generally brought on a more or less severe attack of headache.
On the night of October the 15th I had quite a little adventure. It was bright moonlight; I could not sleep, and at eleven o'clock, when the whole place was hushed in slumber, I was seized with the desire to climb to the top of one of the great steel towers that have been erected here by Baron Codelli von Fahnenfeld in connection with the Government wireless telegraphy station, mention of which has been made in a previous chapter.
There are no fewer than nine of these towers, varying in height from about 250 feet, up to about 400 feet, and with an enterprise born of ignorance and inexperience I chose the tallest of them all for my experiment. I thought how beautiful the African landscape would look seen from the top under the light of the tropical moon, and started on my long climb full of hope and enthusiasm. By the time I had reached about a third of the way up, however, all my ambition had evaporated, and I was glad to go slowly back again. I found the climb down even more nerve-trying than the climb up—for one thing the stimulus had departed—and I reached the ground in a state bordering on collapse.
CHAPTER IV
STARTING "ON TREK"
The first few days of November were spent in packing up our belongings and making ready to start up-country away from the rail-head, and into "the back of beyond," as Schomburgk put it.
The packing process interested me greatly; partly, I suppose, because it gave my housewifely instincts full play. It was like making preparations for a glorified