Chapter 27 of 28
L’Envoi
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L’ENVOI
Lest the reek of blood, which ascends only too noticeably
from any attempt to give an actual picturing of places and
peoples such as these, should offend those used to the
gentler phraseology of civilised lands, I would add that,
in my humble opinion at least, there is great cause for
thankfulness in the change already effected. Compared
with what has been done, what yet remains to do, vast as
it is, seems so small as to give cause for the utmost hope and
courage ; while with the coming of railways, and consequent
opening up of the country, we may hope that progress will
be still more rapid in the future.
Possibly, too, the darker aspects of many rites and beliefs
may be attributed, in great part at least, to the shadow
cast over the minds of the people by that dense tropical
forest which covers such vast stretches of the West Coast,
or by the mangrove swamps which surround low-lying
lands. In open sun-lit country, like the wide plains of
Northern Nigeria and the Sudan, the more revolting customs
seem to be dying out, as was the case in Egypt with the
cutting of the bush, and in Europe with the thinning of
the great forests.
Sir Thomas Holdich, in his more than kind remarks
concerning this study of the Ibibio, was good enough to
say : “As the world of geographical research gets narrower
and narrower from day to day, it is all the more important
that attention should be concentrated on the human element
in geography.” 1 Conversely, perhaps, it may be permitted
me to point out that geographical environment as a factor
in the evolution of racial character has hardly yet received
the attention it deserves on the part of ethnologists.
1 The Geographical Journal, September 1914, p. 305.
339 Z 2
With the growth of understanding, the attitude of contemptuous ridicule, too often shown by men of our race and
day toward alien faiths and modes of thought, must necessarily lessen. Considering the short distance which separates
ourselves from a time when superstitions hardly less cruel
than those of West Africa were rife among us, is it much to
plead for patience and charity of judgment on behalf of
peoples so different, and to whom so far less advantages
have been accorded than to ourselves ?
To the present writer, at least, it seems, speaking with
the diffidence befitting the humblest of pebble-gatherers
on the shores of so boundless an ocean, that West African
religions, as a whole, contain a greater element of spirituality
than has usually been credited to them—just as the mentality,
potential at least, of the African appears of a higher order
than that generally conceded. Only by the good-will of
the black men will it ever be possible for more than the
faintest idea of his complicated psychology to be grasped
by the white ; and could but the educated negro be brought
to understand that he has infinitely more to gain than lose
by recording every scrap of information concerning native
customs and beliefs—omitting nothing and concealing
nothing—such a book might be written as has never yet
seen the light of day.
At the end of this World-war, into which we were forced,
not for ourselves alone, or even primarily, but in defence
of the weak and helpless, there lies before us a chance such
as surely has been granted to no Empire since the world
began—the mighty task of educating, in the true sense of
the word, the teeming millions of our vast tropical dependencies : those millions who, irrespective of race and creed,
rallied, in the hour of danger, with a loyalty and devotion
beyond all words, to the aid of the Motherland. Surely
such a Brotherhood-in-arms can but leave us with deeper
sympathies and truer understanding for the work to which
we are called.
In defining the meaning of education it is perhaps
permissible to quote the words of Sir Frederick Lugard, the
Governor-General of Nigeria :
“ In the first place, I hold that the most important
function of education is the formation of character, and
by the word ‘ character ’ I mean the principles and standards
which guide and control thought and action, and involve
the exercise of self-control and discipline.
" The second most important function of education is to
adapt the individual to his environment, so that he may
have every prospect of leading a life both happy and progressive, so far as he himself is concerned, and useful and
stimulating to the community in which he lives. ... I
observe in the public writings of our educated classes here
some bitterness and some tendency to suspicion instead of
co-operation, which does not seem to indicate that education has brought happiness. And, after all, there are but
two things which are worth living for—happiness in our
personal and individual lives, and usefulness and sympathy
in our relations with the community in which we live.”
Hitherto, education has too often been confounded with
the eradication rather than the development of indigenous
qualities. Perhaps the best of all definitions of the object
of true education may be found in the lines written on a
great Englishman who gave his life for Africa :
Into the sour to breathe the soul of sweetness,
The stunted growth to rear to fair completeness. . . .
And to the sandy waste bequeath the fame
That the grass grew behind him where he came.
Firmness, strength, and the sympathy born of understanding are surely the qualities most needed for the task
which lies before us ; for only the strong will ever lead
people such as these along the road of true civilisation.
It is but a platitude to say that there is no highway to
successful teaching save the hard and thorny path of learning ; yet we cannot but admit, however regretfully, that
“ our Friend the Enemy ” has been more wideawake than
ourselves in grasping the importance of a study of native
customs and beliefs. Indeed, it has been remarked to me
by men, whose position in the Protectorate lends weight
to their opinions, that the people of these regions are mere
“ mud-fish ” of whom there can be nothing worth studying
or recording. In reply to this—and excuse, if need be, for
this long volume—I would venture to quote the words
written, long ago, of Peter Peregrinus of Maricourt in
Picardy, by one of the greatest of Englishmen :
“ He is ashamed that anything should be known to
laymen, old women, soldiers, ploughmen, of which he is
ignorant.” And again : “ The wiser men are, the more
humbly will they submit to learn from others ; they do not
disdain the simplicity of those who teach them. . . . Many
things are known to the simple and unlearned which escape
the notice of the wise. . . . Let no one, therefore, . . . look
down upon the lowly, who have knowledge of many secret
things which God has not shown to those renowned for
wisdom.”