Travels Of Richard And John Lander Into The Interior Of Africa For The Discovery Of The Course And Termination Of The Niger By Robert Huish
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At
The Usual Hour Of The Following Day, April 17th, They Quitted Jadoo,
And In The Middle Of The Day Arrived At A Clean, Pretty Little
Village, Called Pooya.
The appearance of the country between these
places is extremely fine, resembling a magnificent orchard.
On their
way they met several hundreds of people of both sexes and all ages,
with a great number of bullocks, sheep, and goats, together with
fowls and pigeons, which were carried on the head in neat wicker
baskets. Several of the travellers were loaded with country cloth,
and indigo in large round balls. They were all slaves, and were
proceeding to the coast from the interior, to sell the goods and
animals under their charge. One old woman had the misfortune to let a
large calabash of palm oil fall from her head: on arriving at the
spot, they found a party of females, her companions in slavery,
wringing their hands and crying. The affliction of the old woman was
bitter indeed, as she dreaded the punishment which awaited her on her
return to the house of her master. John Lander compassionated her
distress, and gave her a large clasp knife, which would more than
recompense her for the loss of the oil, on which the women wiped away
their tears, and fell down on the dust before them, exhibiting
countenances more gladsome and animated than could be conceived.
The mortality of children must be immense indeed here, for almost
every woman they met with on the road, had one or more of those
little wooden images, already mentioned. Wherever the mothers stopped
to take refreshment, a small part of their food was invariably
presented to the lips of these inanimate memorials. The daughters of
civilization may boast of the refinement of their feelings, but under
what circumstances did they ever exhibit a stronger instance of
maternal affection than these rude, untutored mothers of interior
Africa evinced to our travellers. The English mother will frequently
deposit her child in the grave, and a few days afterwards will be
seen joining in all the pleasures and vanities of the world. Whirled
about in a vortex of dissipation, the mother of civilization bears no
memorial about her of the infant that is in its grave; but the
uncivilized African carries about with her the image of her child,
and, in the full force of her maternal affection, feeds not herself
until in her imagination she has fed the being who once was dear to
her. There was something beautifully affectionate in the mother
offering the food to the images of her children, and had a whole
volume been written in display of the African female character, a
more forcible illustration could not have been given of it.
Although Pooya is considered by the natives to be a day's journey
from Jadoo, they only halted to pay their respects to the chief, and
then continued their journey over gentle hills, and through valleys
watered by streams and rivulets, so as to reach Engua in the
afternoon.
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