BACK in the early 19th century, the area which we now call Nigeria was not a popular posting for the vanguard of British imperialism. A mass of steaming, mosquito infested swamps, the lower stretches of the river Niger teemed with malaria, dengue fever, river blindness, tick bite fever, bilharzia, Guinea worm and a whole host of other lethal afflictions.
In the early days of British expansion into the region, before quinine was discovered, it was estimated that only one out of every two officials or explorers would survive their first year. The few explorers and traders who did re emerge from the dank jungle had their own name for the area: they called it the "white man's graveyard".
Nowadays Nigeria is a thoroughly explored, if chaotic state, but from time to time white people still disappear into the jungle in search of their dreams. One such adventurer is Philip Hall, a British ornithologist, who walked into the jungle a few weeks ago and has not been seen since.
His tragic story comes to us from the African Bird Society in London, which last week received a strange communication (albeit by fax rather than cleft stick) from the depths of the rain forest.
A native of Derby, Mr Hall had emigrated to Nigeria 24 years ago and worked for a conservation group. A year ago, while visiting a stretch of the Niger in Edo state, he caught a hurried glimpse in a forest glade of what he took to be one of the world's rarest birds, the Rufous fish owl, known to science as Scotopelia ussheri. About twice the size of a tawny owl, the Rufous owl survives only in a few remote but endangered patches of riverine forest. Only 30 sightings have ever been recorded.
One can only imagine the effect that such an encounter must have had on Mr Hall's bird watching soul. Suffice it to say that a year later he returned to the same area, prepared to spend several weeks searching for the elusive owl.
Yet the jungle is cruel to those who enter it hopefully - or so the adventure books assure us. Alter making diligent inquiries among the local villagers it seems that Mr Hall finally found that which he had sought alas, too late. Not only had the villagers seen his owl, they had killed it the night before and eaten it for breakfast. All that remained for his inspection were the owl's head and feathers, plus a few bones in the cooking pot.
A spokesman for the British Trust for Ornithology later remarked, with the calm understatement on which an empire was built: "It must have been heartbreaking for Mr Hall to discover the owl had been killed and eaten." Quite.
THE Krisjan Lemmer column in Johannesburg's Weekly Mail and Guardian - named after a notorious liar in the short stories of Herman Bosman - likes to keep an eye on social developments in South Africa's close neighbours. Swaziland, where senior politicians believe in witches and where the king has first pick of the nation's virgins each year, has long been a favourite subject.
This week, however, attention turned to a recent debate in the Namibian parliament on a Married Persons' Equality Bill, which would remove existing restrictions on married women becoming company directors or buying and selling property. The following quotations are recorded.
"This bill is supported mostly by single women, women who have problems in their families and by those who know they are never going to marry," said a Mr Henjala, member of the national council.
"We must be very careful of women," said the Honourable Mr Maxiulili MR "From Adam and Eve to Sampson and Delilah, and the same thing happens here now, that women want to take over power and God will ask `Why did you take over from those ones who are supposed to order?' We can never allow it."
He went on: "We are not allowed to change the status of men and women, not at all. That is what God said ... If Parliament wants to change it, then we commit a very serious sin."
The last word goes to the Honourable Mr Emvula in the National Council, who remarked pithily that "even with a game of cards, the king counts more than a queen".
Children be advised: these remarks were made by experienced politicians and tribal elders in South West Africa. On no account should they be attempted at home.