“THE PATH”

Evening Star, Issue 19786, 9 February 1928, Page 2

“THE PATH”

AFRICA'S BROADCASTING CENTRE NEWS OF THE COUNTRYSIDE. A line of carriers is winding along a narrow, well-beaten path through the unkempt bush of ’Central Africa. Ahead marches a white man, slick in hand and pipe in mouth, deep in his own thoughts, as likely as not miles away in tbo Homeland. ? Nothing stirs in the woodland; the little group has apparently all the world to itself, yet listen m with them for a while and you will hear news. Along the path*’ in the opposite direction appears a rag-tug and bobtail party. The leader wears boots and ill-litting cast-on European clothes; the next in lino has grown tired of being civilised, and carries his boots slung on his shoulders (says \V. T. Young, in the ‘Glasgow Herald’). Then follows the spoil—a battered portmanteau, or it may be a wooden box, a sewing machine, or a bicycle, carried or led by youths, and in the rear two or more women with clumsy bundles in their hands. Men returning from the mines, probably at Kiunbwc. One or two carriers follow the bwana, the rest off-shoulder their loads and sit. Follow salutations and demands for snuff, then the real business of newsgetting begins, questions and answer follow each other rapidly and briefly, both lime and news being too precious to waste. News of the mines, of friends and fellow-villagers there, of conditions, prospects, and happenings. The newcomers in their turn ask of the trek, whence, whither, and what sort of bwana. Then with a last pinch and a farewell, the carriers shoulder their loads and move on. At an easy trot they soon make up on their comrades and the bwana. And now as wo go the uews is passed along the line —not, mark you, hurriedly, and all at mice. Thom' is an art in it as'of one dispensing a precious elixir drop by drop—and _ such, indeed, it is. There may ho a question or two just to make sure tbo nows has been heard correctly, but it is merely sipped and Havered now. The full tasliug and appreciation will come over the evening campliio. Hardly has this first budget (no “copyright reserved”) been given than another small group is seen approaching along the path. This time two men lead, stalking, spear' in hand, in dignified fashion along the path, followed by two maidens who show signs of coyness, and a lad or two with a reluctant heifer. . , The carriers grow visibly excited, tuis may be a piquant news item—a paragraph from the police news or the divorce court. Nothing, is more welcome, for the African dearly loves a lawsuit. Yes, they are hi luck’s way this morning. It is a “case”; a young, deserted wife and a dispute about the return of the dowry, which is to be talked at the village of such and such a headman. The cariers settle down with a sign of anticipation, and, to the inevitable accompaniment of snuffing, the points of the case are briefly told. The girls meanwhile take shelter by an adjacent tree and look with curious eyes at the group of men. The heifer kies to find a mouthful of grass. Then almost abruptly—without comment, for that is not expected and might, indeed, be unwise—the carriers rise again and follow the path, eager to join their fellows tor the greatest pastime the African knows —the unravelling of a lawsuit. Woo betide the newspapers if, on analysis, thoy arc found to have left out an essential bit of evidence. For the African min'd of agelong practice is at its best in "hearing a case.” No white magistrate so commends himself to the African as ho who hears patiently and carefully, and draws upon the inherited wisdom of the older men. These are major items of news; “ local announcements ” and items of lessor import may follow—a party of young men going to a marriage feast at a nearby village—a man followed by a train of women carrying baskets of foodstuffs, pots, or other articles of merchandise, Hero the carriers enjoy themselves like women at the sales—prices are asked, wares examined and .criticised. Possibly, if they are flush or have dried meat to exchange, a little bargaining ensues with an eye to a snack at the first halt. In any case, the discussion of goods and prices will keep their tongues happily employed for quite a stretch. Into this discussion they may skilfully draw the bwana (probably none too loth to share in the gossip) and ba.ve their appetites titillated by_ talk of white men’s prices and values. Some, indeed, have had experience, and can toll their less-travelled companions. NOTHING TOO TRIVIAL.

fio on it goes. It is a blank day in which no news is picked up, though some days are more newsy than others—a state of affairs not unknown at home. One of the unwriten laws of The Path is that news must bo shared, and—Home papers again—no item is 100 trivial not to be welcome. It is an amazingly effective broadcasting system. From group to group travelling both ways on The Path goes the news, to be repeated in the villages cn route and spread ever further and further. No stone makes ripples quicker or more widely than the gossip of The Path. The power of The Path as a .distributing agency is enormous—for good or ill. Often we Europeans are amazed at the Africans’ knowledge and remembrance of the details of past happenings in the corners of the district. Often, too, we find our name—the name cunningly chosen by the African who has measured us to portray our character—is known where we have not been. The Path has carried it, and “ the one ®Ho smiles,” “ the one who bears patiently,” are welcomed, while the “angry, buzzing bee”! or the “roaring lion” find people shy of 1 them. The broadcasting of The Path has

its drawbacks, wc admit ruefully, for the names, once known, are not easy to live down. And many are more descriptive and less pleasant. Newspapers may come to Central Africa in the years to be; some day, perhaps, we Europeans will he able, at stated times and considerable espouse, to hear a clarion voice saying: “This is London calling the British Empire,” but for the African for many a long day The Path will remain his wireless, and on it he will continue to hear and relay all the news of the countryside.