Among the Ibos of Nigeria/Chapter 4

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Life in an Ibo village is at once simple and picturesque. The houses, the general environment, the dependence upon local natural resources, and the contentment with the barest modicum of those articles which are usually regarded as indispensable in a household, all these, together with the easy-going spirit amongst the village folk, foster and maintain a life of extreme simplicity. Discontent with primitive conditions comes only with the introduction of novelties from the outside world, and then, like a child, the Ibo covets what he sees. Left to himself he neither needs nor desires foreign luxuries, but once the possibility of securing them presents itself, be they ever so incon­ gruous, he will not relax his efforts until they become his cherished possessions.

A missionary has unique opportunities of becoming acquainted with village life, for from the very nature of things the soundest policy is for him to live in the closest communion with the people whom he seeks to influence. So it comes about that he enters freely into the life of the natives ; their huts are always open to him and he goes in and out more or less as one of themselves. In like manner they expect the missionary’s house to be free to them, and to come and go as they please.

There is nothing symmetrical about the Ibo village, a fact which tends to make it the more picturesque. It would be thought that at least one point would be kept well in mind when fixing the location of a village, viz. a water supply. But in a great many cases this detail does not appear to have been taken into consideration when selecting sites. Again and again one meets people toiling ​to and from the supply situated perhaps from one to three miles away. With the exception of those actually situated on the banks of streams, it is usual to find the villages at a distance from water; indeed very often there is no adequate supply, the people simply dig catch-pits for the storage of surface water. In the wet season there is no lack, but in the dry mouths water is scarce and that stored in the pits becomes stagnant. In some districts the traveller must carry water, for he is likely to experience difficulty in obtaining any en route fit for consumption, and a bath is but an occasional luxury. Whilst travelling through such a district some years ago for three days we were denied the comfort of even a decent wash. For drinking purposes recourse can generally be had to coconut milk or palni wine. The former is preferable, as the natives dilute the palm wine very freely, and they are not particular whence the water for the purpose is drawn!

The huts are planted down just where the builders fancy, in all sorts of places and at every conceivable angle. The roads are adapted to the houses, and wind in and out between the walls in most bewildering fashion. In the evening time, when the setting sun casts its softened rays over the scene, the village presents a pleasing prospect, The terra-cotta coloured walls, and the thatched rouls, blend most harmoniously with the luxuriant foliage all around, the whole being topped by the graceful palms or shadowed by giant bombax and other large trees.

In the ilos (streets), the children are playing happily in the sand: a company of boys are imitating ju-ju ceremonies, and probably a hevy of merry girls are dancing with whole-hearted enjoyment. The men lounge round in a leisurely manner; a few of the younger, perhaps, engage in archery contests. In one corner a group of older men sit together deeply interested in a game of "okwe,"¹ a pastime common, I believe, throughout West Africa. The wornen and elder girls are engaged in work, but even they exhibit no signs of rush or worry. Some depart to fetch water, their large clay pots skilfully balanced on their heads; others are busy with preparations for the ​evening meal. Little parties frequently sit in the street engaged in the tedious task of peeling “edde” (an edible root something like an artichoke in appearance, the leaves of which resemble those of gigantic arum lilies)—an occupa­ tion which affords a rare opportunity for gossip.

At a broad glance the whole scene is delightfully and charmingly picturesque, and it is advisable to follow the example of touring journalists, and be content with first and rapid impressions. These visitors have not the time for further investigation, and would not know where to look, or what to expect, even if they had. Should, how­ ever, inspection be made at close range, the visitor is liable to be quickly and rudely disappointed, for there is no attempt whatever to observe one single law of sanita­ tion. The houses and compounds are swept diligently daily, and the women take infinite pains in rubbing the walls and clay floors, but all the rubbish and filth are simply cast down in any available spot in or about the compound and the clumps of bush between the houses; for all their attractive appearance, are little more than open cesspits.

The towns arc divided up into villages or wards, and are spread over a wide area, a town often extending over three or four miles of country. There is no overcrowding in the interior towns. There is abundant space for each family to have its own house, compound and farm; in short, each household can be entirely independent of any other for all its needs. Every man understands the art of building and thatching. The materials he obtains from the surrounding bush. He puddles his own clay as near the site of the proposed building as he conveniently can, often in the compound itself. He and his dependents till the land and produce the main food supply. Fish and flesh are the only commodities likely to be sought from outside sources. If near a stream, the fish of which does not happen to be sacred, men and women trap or catch fish. Meat is not a common article of diet; it is a luxury to the Ibo.

Each village or ward has its own chief who enjoys the dignity and rights of a patriarch. He takes the lead in all public affairs, religious, social and political. Disputes are ​settled by him, and he used to preside at the trials of criminal offenders. He also, providing he has attained to the necessary rank, officiates at the sacrifices appointed for certain delinquencies, such as infidelity.

Every village has its own market-place, fetish-houses and public meeting ground. The markets are designated by the names of the day on which they are held, viz. “Ekke,” “Afaw,” “Oye” (Olie) and “Nkwaw,” these corresponding to the four days of the Ibo week. The life of the womenfolk largely consists in a continual round of marketing and the preparation of food, varied by farm work in the season.

The fetish-houses are usually small and very crude; indeed they are neglected and allowed to fall into great disrepair, until some wave of religious zeal leads to their temporary restoration. The people do not appear to worry concerning the ju-ju. Wind and weather may play havoc upon it during the period that their fervour is at a low ebb, and, as a considerable number of these gods are composed of clay, the result is somewhat disastrous, especially during the rainy season. However, a little patching, at the admonition of the Chief, or at the time of some special crisis, satisfies the people, and they conclude that the god ought to be satisfied also. This is a mere statement of fact, not a point of sentiment. A charge is sometimes levelled at missionaries that they entertain neither respect nor regard for the native religion; but they probably understand the situation, and know the under­ lying currents of thought better than their critics, who too often trumpet forth their opinions, though some of them have never visited the country at all, and others have made but a “so-many-miles-in-a-fortnight” sort of tour. I remember a case in which a colleague was interrogated by one such visitor. An opinion was asked concerning a certain custom. My colleague answered that he could not commit himself to anything definite, as he had not been able to probe to the bottom of the matter. The visitor thought this strange, and went on to remark that he had quite a clear conception of the custom, underlying principle and all, as he had been asking questions for the last two ​1. Girls from the Eastern Interior District 2. In Gala Dress

preparing for

Marriage

These girls are passing through the: ceremony of Nkpu. They are wearing belts of tiny bells, and their legs arc adorned with brass I wire spirals, of which they are inordinately proud. ​My colleague replied that he had been working at the idea over a space of two whole years, and he was still far from being in a position to dogmatise on the subject under discussion.

The public meeting ground (Ilo), is a charming spot; a large open space shaded by one or more Awbu trees. Beginning a few feet from the ground, these trees throw out, at right angles to the stem, huge wide spreading branches. As these extend they are supported by props. The leaves are large and abundant and the tree when fully grown gives an almost perfect circle of shade sometimes as much as one hundred yards in circumference.

These natural arbours eclipse all enclosed meeting halls. The crowd sits or lies upon the sandy floor, completely sheltered from the sun, each man assuming any attitude he pleases. Of course, fair weather is necessary to appre­ ciate the advantages of the open-air conditions. The chief drawback is that the attention of the audience is apt to be diverted by every casual passer-by, and often some trivial incident will throw the meeting into hopeless disorder, and bring all business abruptly to an end. The people go off at a tangent on the slightest provocation —they are much like children and find it difficult to con­centrate their minds for long together. Very similar con­dition prevail in Hyde Park and other resorts of like character in England. It takes very little to attract the attention of the crowd, and the numbers fall off immediately anything transpires which shows the least promise of being more entertaining.

Meetings for many purposes arc held in these open spaces: for the adjustment of differences between individuals or households: for the celebration of fixed feasts; the offerings of common town sacrifices and on specially appointed occasions. Hundreds of people will assemble when an important question is under discussion, or a great function is in progress. Frequently the ilo serves also as the market-place, in which case it is the rendezvous of ​great crowds of haggling buyers and sellers who create a din only to be compared to that of an Englis h fair—minus the steam organs.

Having taken a general view of the village we now turn to a closer examination of the houses and compounds. These vary very much in different localities. At Onitsha the compounds resemble those in vogue in the Yoruba country, a fact which serves as an additional argument in support of the tradition that the chief inhabitants of that town are of Bini origin. The compound is rectangular in form. Against three sides of its surrounding wall, and occasionally on the fourth side also, small compartments are constructed round an open courtyard. The one en­ trance is on the side next to the roadw’ay, and it is usually so diminutive that on entering caution is necessary if one wishes to preserve one’s anatomy from knocks and scratches. The rooms are raised a foot or two above ground level. The courtyard being open, in the rainy season it frequently resembles a pond, but the greater part of the water quickly disappears through a channel cut through the main wall for the purpose. The walls of the building are of puddled clay, and the roof is constructed of bamboo or split palm stems, thatched with grass or palm-leaf mats.

East of Onitsha the distinct Ibo plan is adopted. Here the compound is enclosed with a boundary wall from four to ten feet in height, thatched to protect it from the heavy rains. The area enclosed depends upon the space available, and not on the social position of the owner. Inside this compound stands a collection of huts of irregular shape, anyhow and anywhere. Aspect, elevation and proximity to other buildings, are not considered by the Ibo. Very few of the huts are large; in most cases the back wall alone is carried up to the eaves; sometimes the ends, and always the front, being left open to admit air and light. The roofs slope down to within two or three feet of the ground, ana are constructed of close rafters covered with a very thick and heavy thatch of grass. On the western side of the river the thatch consists of uma leaves tied on by their stalks. The roofs are very steeply pitched, a method born of experience of tropical downpours. The low eaves ​also afford entire protection from the snn. The floor is composed of beaten clay, raised a foot or two above the ground level. It is polished by the womenfolk with clay-water. To prevent it wearing into holes it may be studded with palm nuts (nkpulu ugwu-olo), a hard seed resembling a plum stone.

The furniture and adornments of the hut are curious. The underside of the roof is permeated with lamp-black, very dirty, but nevertheless a great preservative to the thatch, and a deterrent to mosquitoes and other undesirable insects. Suspended from the rafters are dozens of skulls of goats, cows, pigs, monkeys and maybe, human skulls also. These gruesome objects, filthy with smoke and dirt, are records of feasts and sacrifices. They arc kept as a display of affluence rather than as fetishes, a custom com­ parable with the practice of mounting antlers and other trophies in English houses.

In addition, there are various articles indicating some of the habits and occupations of the owner; wicker fish traps, flagons made from gourds and used in collecting and storing palm wine, native hoes and a miscellaneous collection of odds and ends. The fire is on the floor in the centre of the hut, and is seldom allowed to die out, it being kept alight by long logs of slow-burning wood. Near by is the master’s pipe and a rough wooden bowl—polished by constant friction—used for grinding snuff. Usually there is no actual furniture other than a skin or two upon which the owner reclines upon the floor. Visitors usually bring their own chairs or skins if they require such luxuries. A special friend may be accommodated with a grass mat, a gin case, or a stool, and one has even had to make shift with half a cocoanut shell. This is not so uncomfortable as it is apt to sound, especially if the husk still covers the shell. An inclination to stoutness is likely to give rise to awkward situations, but happily deportment is of little moment.

Various patterns of beds are in use, movable and fixed. One of the former consists of a simple frame on four legs over which a layer of offolaw (palm-stems) is fixed cross­ wise. The immovable beds arc supported by the two rear legs being sunk into the floor, and the two horizontal end ​pieces being buried into the side-wall of the hut; these also are covered with offolaw. Another variety consists of solid clay couches with a raised headpiece for a pillow. The native who objects to lodging on the “cold, cold ground” shows his ingenuity by making a cosy couch. A mound of well-beaten clay about seven feet by three feet, and two and a half feet in height, is banked against the inner wall of the house, and then the side is hollowed out in the form of an arch. In this cavity fire is placed an thus the bed is warmed through. On the death of a man of high social rank the corpse may be left on such a be and the heat increased in order to dry and shrivel the body, and thus preserve it until satisfactory funera arrangements can be arranged.

The head of the house has his own particular hut. Eac Eachwife has also her own which she shares with her children until the sons grow up, when they build themselves bachelor's quarters. Adjoining the chief’s private apart­ ment is the recess where the household gods are paraded, the family Ikenga occupying the position of honour. In front of the main building are one or more sacred ebwo trees which serve as a sacrificial grove. Just inside the entrance to the compound is a rude shelter for the guardian ju-ju of that particular house.

Cooking utensils are few and simple. In the vicinity of trading factories cast-iron negro pots are in great favour, but in the interior earthen vessels are employed. The fire­ place consists of three stones or lumps of burnt clay, or if a back wall be available, and this is greatly preferred, two stones suffice. When a feast is in preparation, cooking operations may be transferred to the open compound, and, for public festivities, to the ilo itself. Considerable ingenuity is then shown in improvising temporary ranges. A narrow trench is dug running several yards in a straight line, and at intervals right-angled cross-cuts arc made. The pots are balanced over the junctions where the cross sections cut the main trench, and firewood is pushed in on either side. Thus the number of cooking pots can be multiplied indefinitely.

Close alongside the hearth is the indispensable pestle ​and mortar—heavy with cumbersome articles. The latter is hewn out of a solid block of urok timber, a hard wood similar to oak. The pestle is about 2½ft. in length and is of the same material, corresponding in weight with the mortar. The Meal of the day, i.e., the evening one, cannot be prepared without these utensils.

The head of the house keeps the awba, or yam stack, strictly in his own charge, and he hands out the daily supply. The rinds are hacked off, and the yam split into chunks. It is then cooked in a similar way to potatoes. When sufficiently boiled the blocks of yam are placed in the mortar, the pestle is dipped in water, and pounding begins. This is continued until the mass assumes the con­ sistency of dough, and the resemblance is so close that the casual onlooker might mistake it for that article. The pounding appears to be a very simple business but it is really difficult, and a distinct knack has to be acquired. The pulverised yam is very sticky, and an inexperienced hand will pull the whole lump out of the mortar and roll it in the dust, thus rendering it unfit for use. One has never yet seen a European pound yam with passable success, and he also finds the labour very fatiguing, whereas the natives, men, women and children, are experts in manipulating the pestle.

Meantime another pot is stewing over the fire and this contains the soup or relish. It consists of water, purest palm-oil (that which is extracted from the outside flesh of the nuts), pepper, salt, herbs and smoked fish or meat, the last of nondescript nature and origin. When all is prepared the pot of soup is placed on the ground in the centre of the group of diners. Before each person is a ball of pounded yam called nni-ji, resembling an unbaked Cobourg loaf. A portion is pinched off the lump, rolled between the fingers to the size and shape of an egg, dipped well into the relish, and swallowed at a gulp. The pill, large as it is, causes no inconvenience to the Ibo. No attempt is made to masticate the food, and it disappears at an amazing rate. An enormous amount is eaten at these evening meals, and the native wants little more for the next twenty-four hours. ​The head of the house dines alone in his private apart­ ment, each wife in turn attending to his needs. He uses his own drinking cup. which he never allows out of his own possession. No other person must handle it; he has no wish for poison to be administered in his cup.

In the choice of meat the Ibo exhibits no fads. Usually he must be content with smoked fish. Domestic animals are scarce, and are seldom killed except for sacrificial purposes or for very special feasts. When any are killed, the careases are hacked to pieces with axes and matchets, straight through skin and bones. Not the smallest particle is wasted, even the entrails being consumed. The blood is caught and allowed to solidify. It is then cut in pieces and cooked in the same manner as the liver. Wild animals are treated likewise, of whatever species they may be, large or small, young or old, diseased or otherwise. The only part shunned is the gall-bladder, the contents of which are believed to be deadly poison, that of some animals being much more feared than others. Leopards, monkeys, dogs, snakes, lizards, anything indeed that can be called fish, flesh or fowl is acceptable to the Ibo. Men have begged permission to shake the thatch of my house during the day-time in order to catch the small bats which shelter there. When thus disturbed the little creatures fly out, and are dazed by the light and, before they can recover themselves, they are struck down. Men have also made request to dig in the compound to unearth field mice. With the sole exception of the sacred python, snakes when killed arc immediately tailed and headed— the tail being learcd almost as much as the head, as it is thought to be capable of inflicting a poisonous sting. The extremities are buried on the spot whilst the still wriggling icptile is carried off to supplement the stock of food in the family larder. Those who have forsaken paganism include the python in their list of delicacies, the snake which is accounted sacred by the ordinary native. Rather late one night I had to pay a visit to the Institution dor­ mitory' to dress a sore foot for a lad. An extraordinary quietness aroused my suspicions and, at the same time, I was conscious of an extremely inviting odour. Upon ​investigation I discovered a little clandestine supper-party enjoying themselves greatly—a large python had been un­ earthed from its hole and killed, and the nest robbed of thirty-four eggs. Practically the whole of the snake and all the eggs vanished that night!

On another night, after we had retired to bed, we were disturbed by frantic screechings issuing from the fowl house. The result of our sortie was that a small python (7ft. 4in.), caught in the act of raiding the roost, came to a violent end. I wanted the skin, and said the reptile must be left till the morning. It was only with great difficulty that the boys could be prevented from cutting up and eating the creature that night, in spite of the fact that they had but recently partaken of a heavy meal.

One day one of the men shot a python some fifteen feet in length. Judging by his bloated appearance we conjec­ tured that he must have had a substantial breakfast. It was owing to this, and the subsequent heavy sleep after the meal, that he lost his life. Imagine our astonishment when, after a surgical operation, we discovered that he had chosen a porcupine as his morning tit-bit, taking care however, to swallow it head first, the quills being thus pressed flat to its body and so preventing their business ends from causing uncomfortable internal sensations. But what amazed us more, and gives occasion for relating the incident at all, was the request of a gentleman present for the body of the porcupine (upon which the gastric juices had already been actively at work) to provide an evening meal! The python was taken in hand by the members of our compound and was pronounced “ prime beef.”

I was busy at work one afternoon when some men began to run and shout, and soon afterwards two of them came along with a slim black snake, six feet in length, killed in the act of stalking a chicken. The two men moved a few yards away, collected some dry grass and- started a fire. The reptile, balanced upon a stick, was thrust into the flames and smoke until it was charred, but by no means cooked, and the men promptly devoured it. These snakes usually hunt in couples, so a watch was kept for the mate, ​and within a couple of hours number two had met with a similar fate.

Many attempts have been made to keep horses in the Ibo country, and a number have been brought down from Northern Nigeria, but they survived only a short time, owing to tsetse fly. As one of these neared its end, several natives sought to purchase it, but their offers met with indignant refusal and, instead, the poor brute was decently buried. But alas I it was not allowed to rest. Under cover of darkness the carcase was snatched, the natives strongly disapproving of the waste of so much good “beef.”

After dark one evening I was strolling round and came upon a group of youths very intent on some business. On inquiry I found that shares had been taken up in the purchase of a dog. It was cut up into thirty penny shares, each youth taking one or more according to his resources. The native dogs, which are met with in every village but are not numerous, are of the pariah type, and arc kept solely to serve as scavengers. They are small and scraggy and the refuse consumed by them is vile beyond description.

One might relate many examples, but these will suffice to demonstrate the Ibo’s taste in flesh food. His canni­ balistic propensities have been touched upon in a previous chapter. It will be seen that nothing comes amiss to the native. The limit is perhaps reached in those towns where even the evil-smelling, refuse-eating vultures are valued chiefly for their putrid flesh.

The Ibo village then, for all that is so picturesque, set in the midst of beautiful surroundings, and radiant with colour, is not the sweetest of places. But its failure to come up to expectations is due not so much to its natural environment, but is rather an illustration of the words:—