Gerald Durrell (3 page)

We reached Mamfe
at nightfall, and soon were installed in the great, empty, echoing rooms of the
rest-house, where we watched the pale pink geckos creep out from the cracks and
scutter across the ceiling in hot pursuit of the insects our lamp had
attracted. They crept across the white ceiling almost imperceptibly, until they
were near enough to a resting moth or fly, and then they would suddenly rush in
with incredible speed and snap. The next moment the insect would have gone, and
the gecko, after a short pause for gulping and meditation, would trot off
across the roof to another meal.

After getting
stores and various other commodities together in Mamfe, John and I decided to
split up. John wanted to go to a village called Bakebe, some twenty-five miles
from Mamfe, which he thought would be a good place for birds. I, on the other
hand, wished to go to Eshobi. This village is situated north of the Cross River
on the edge of a section of forest that stretches unbroken and almost
uninhabited hundreds of miles northwards until it reaches the desolate
mountains where the gorilla has its stronghold. I felt that it would be an
ideal place to set up a subsidiary camp, while John established the main base
at Bakebe. While I collected mammals and reptiles I could also be obtaining
birds for John, and while collecting birds in Bakebe he could also get some
mammals and reptiles for me. On this plan we agreed, and I set about the task
of obtaining carriers for the trek to Eshobi (for there was no road to it), and
hiring a lorry to transport John to his village, which was, fortunately, on a
road.

The morning of
our separation arrived and, with it, my ten carriers. John and I surveyed them
as we ate breakfast under the trees on the rest-house lawn. They were an
unprepossessing lot.

“I shouldn’t
think”, said John, eyeing them, “that you will even
reach
Eshobi with
that lot. They will probably eat you before you’ve gone half a mile into the
forest.”

At this point
one of the carriers yawned and displayed teeth that had been filed to points in
the time-honoured cannibal way, and I was not reassured. At this moment,
however, the barber arrived. It had been John who had suggested that I should
get my hair cut before plunging off to Eshobi, and the suggestion was sound.

As I seated
myself, and the barber placed his robe reverently round me, I noticed that the
carriers were dancing about, slapping themselves and cursing. I thought nothing
of it until I was suddenly assailed with a series of agonizing bites on my leg,
and I looked down and got my first view of a driver ant column spread out to
attack. The ground was a seething black mass of ants. I roared for rescue, and
two of the staff came dashing to my aid, rolled up my trousers and started to
pick the ants off my legs. Just at that moment a small boy wandered on to the
scene carrying two baby Drills clasped round his waist. Now I was very anxious
to obtain some of these baboons, so I bargained furiously with the lad, and eventually
bought them. He planted them both in my lap and departed hurriedly, for the
ants were already investigating his legs. The Drills decided that this change
of ownership did not appeal to them at all, and they both started to kick and
scream and bite like spoilt children. The scene in the compound now beggared
description: the carriers were leaping about to keep clear of the ants, our
staff were trying to get the ants out of the carriers’ loads, I was struggling
with the Drills, finding myself very much hampered by the barber’s cloak, and
the two members of the staff were still working on ant extermination on my
upper calves. The barber had not enjoyed himself so much for years; he gazed at
the lively scene, occasionally exchanging a bit of good advice or an insult
with one of the carriers or the staff, and absent-mindedly chopping in the
general direction of my scalp. Once, when he told a carrier which load to take,
the argument waxed so fierce that I expected an ear to fall in my lap at any
moment.

Eventually we
sorted things out, and John accompanied us to the rusty suspension bridge which
spanned the Cross River. On the other side was the forest and Eshobi. We stood
there, watching the line of carriers make their way across, a hundred feet
above the dark waters. As they reached the other side they were swallowed up in
the multi-coloured undergrowth of the forest. When the last had disappeared,
and only their voices came faintly to us, I turned to John.

“Well, dear
boy,” I said, “I must brave the unknown. See you in about three months’ time.”

“Good luck,”
said John, and, as an afterthought, “you’ll need it, I expect. . . .”

I crossed the
rickety, groaning planks of the bridge, the lizards darting away from me across
the sun-drenched wood. At the other side I turned and waved to John, who now
seemed dwarfed by the width of the river and the great trees under which he was
standing. Then I turned and walked quickly down the path into the forest,
anxious to catch the carriers up.

After all those
months of waiting and preparation the great moment had at last arrived.

PART ONE

ESHOBI

CHAPTER
ONE

THE FOREST BY DAY

I REALIZED that
as soon as the hunting got under way and the collection increased, most of my
time would be taken up in looking after the animals, and I should not be able
to wander far from camp. So I was eager to get into the forest while I had the
chance, and while the camp site was still in the process of being cleared I
sent a message to the Chief of Eshobi, saying that I would like to see him. He
arrived with four council members at a crucial moment when I was watching, with
increasing exasperation, the efforts of five men to erect my tent, with
conspicuous lack of success.

The chief was a
small, bewildered-looking little man, clad in a red and gold robe, an orange
stocking cap on his head, and clutching to his breast an enormous and
exceedingly angry duck. The council members, an unctuous, shifty-eyed crowd,
steered him through the tangle of equipment to where I stood, and then pushed
him forward to say his piece. He cleared his throat, took a firmer grip on the
duck, and started. It was made as difficult as possible for him by the duck,
who, tried beyond endurance, flapped its wings in his face, and quacked
vigorously in a hoarse and complaining way. It was so large and strong that at
one point I thought it was going to take off and carry the chief with it, but
he mastered it, and continued his speech a trifle breathlessly, his stocking
cap askew. Having finished, he thrust the duck into my arms with relief, and I
passed it on to Pious just as hurriedly.

There followed a
long exchange of compliments between the chief and myself (via Pious), and an
explanation as to why I had come to Eshobi. I showed him, and the council
members, pictures of the various animals I wanted, and they were captivated,
prodding the illustrations with their brown fingers, chortling and nodding, and
ejaculating loud and appreciative “Eh . . . aehhs!” at each fresh wonder. The
whole thing went down very well, and I extracted from the chief a promise that
he would send to me the very best hunter in the village to act as my guide.
Then I dashed him two packets of cigarettes, and he trotted off towards the
village very pleased with himself. A little distance away I saw the council
members close in on him and skilfully relieve him of most of the dash, ignoring
his feeble protests. I turned my attention back to the tent, which had just
fallen gracefully to the ground for about the sixth time.

Early the next
morning two men arrived at the camp and said that they were the hunters that
the chief had sent. I had them brought to the tent, and surveyed them
suspiciously over my fried eggs. One was short and stocky, with a receding
ape-like forehead and protruding teeth. His fat lower regions were draped in a
sarong-like garment of green, covered lavishly with large orange and red
flowers. The other was tall, very tall, and extremely thin. He stood there
drooping artistically, drawing patterns in the dust with his long toes. His
sarong was a tasteful combination of purple and white dots on a pink
background.

“Good morning,
Masa,” said the short one, displaying his teeth in an ingratiating grin.

“Good morning,
Masa,” echoed the tall one, simpering at me.

“Good morning. Are
you the hunters the chief sent?”

“Yes, sah,” they
chorused.

“What are your
names?”

“Sah?”

“What they dey
call you?” translated Pious from behind me.

“Elias, sah,”
said the short one in his husky voice.

“Andraia, sah,”
said the tall one, wriggling with embarrassment, and draping a long arm over
his companion’s shoulders.

“Pious,” said I,
“ask them if they will be my hunters. I will pay them one and six a day, and
they will get dash for every animal they catch. If it’s an animal I want very
much, then the dash will be big. If it’s some other kind of animal then the
dash will be smaller.”

Pious listened
carefully, his head on one side, then turned to the hunters and translated
rapidly into pidgin-English.

“Masa say: you
go be hunter man for him, eh? Masa, he go pay you one shilling and sixpence
every day you go take Masa and go for bush, eh? If you go catch beef kind Masa
de like
plenty
, he go dash you fine. If beef no be good Masa go dash you
small. You de hear?”

“We hear,”
chorused the hunters, grinning.

“You agree?”

“We agree.”

“They agree,
sar,” said Pious to me, unnecessarily.

Then I showed
them the pictures, and they responded well to them, “Eh . . . aehhing!” as the
chief had done, and telling me where each kind of animal was to be found. With
unerring accuracy they recognized every picture I showed them. Then I produced
a picture of a camel, and asked innocently if it was to be found locally. They
stared at it for a long time, chattered away to each other, and at last
admitted that they had never seen one. My spirits rose, as I had half expected
them to say that camels could be found in large herds within half a mile of the
village, such is the black man’s enthusiasm for helping the white. I told them
to return the next morning, dashed them some cigarettes, and watched them walk
off down the path with considerable misgivings, Elias’s fat-bottomed waddle in
his gaudy sarong, and Andraia mincing delicately along beside him. I had never
seen two people look less like hunters in my life, and the more I thought about
them the less faith I had in their abilities. I was to be very pleasantly
surprised, for they turned out to be very good hunters indeed. Elias had the
courage, while Andraia had the quick-wittedness for prompt spur-of-the-moment
action.

With them I was
to spend many days tramping through the forest, and innumerable nights crawling
through the undergrowth in the anaemic glow of the torches, searching for the
lesser denizens of the bush. In a twenty-mile radius of the village they knew
every path, every little stream and waterfall, almost every bush. They would
melt through the thickest tangle of undergrowth with ease, and not a sound
betrayed their presence, while I, hot and flat-footed, stumbled behind with a
noise like a bulldozer in action. They showed me how to mark a trail, and how
to follow one, and the first time I tried I was lost within ten minutes. They
showed me which fruit in the bush was good to eat, and which was unpalatable,
and which twigs to chew to ease your thirst without poisoning yourself.