Northern Nigeria 



one of our greatest troubles at first; but at the 

 beginning of the Borgu campaign I got hold of 

 a small escaped slave-boy, about fourteen years 

 old. He had been traded and bartered right across 

 Africa, and could talk Haussa, Nupe, Bariba, 

 Yoruba, and other languages too numerous to 

 mention. I had with me a Sierra Leone boy who 

 could talk nothing but pigeon English ; this the 

 kid, whose name was Bakari, picked up so quickly 

 that by the end of three or four months, incredible 

 as it may seem, I could, through him, converse 

 with any one in Northern Nigeria. The coast boys' 

 pigeon English, by the way, is quite a language of 

 its own, full of weird expressions, e.g. "I lib (live) 

 for" means "I am about to," as "I lib for die," "I 

 am about to die ; " or again, " Lef um " for " Leave 

 me alone," which is what they shout when you beat 

 them. Prepositions are unaccountably omitted, as 

 " I look him," for " I look for him," or it, as the 

 case may be. Your boy will assure you, if he has 

 been sent to find anything, " I look him for table ; 

 I look him for chair; I no fit see him," the latter 

 meaning " I am unable to see him." 



The first time I took Bakari into the civiliza- 

 tion of Jebba, he was waiting behind my chair 

 at dinner, when suddenly he lent down con- 

 fidentially, and said, " Sar, sar." I was talking, 

 and paid no attention. " Sar ! sar ! " again with 

 agitation. "Well, what's wrong?" A pause in 



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