IX. The Yellow Peril

The political wisdom of Ekra Kwow, the son of Kwamankra, was learnt at the feet of his father while yet he was in his teens. Being a lad of inquiring mind and quick perception, many a curious question did he put to his father on odd occasions, when Kwamankra would return answers full of pith and marrow.

interrogated the precocious youth, as he craned his neck behind the chair of the paterfamilias, who was leisurely gleaning from the pages of Public Opinion.

Kwamankra raised his eyes from the printed matter, and beckoned the young hopeful forward. Eyeing the lad curiously, he said, “ If you must know, I suppose I must give you the lesson, and, perhaps, the earlier the better. Now, if you should be going to school to-morrow, and at the street corner Kweku Mensah knocked off your cap and punched your nose, what would you do ? ”

“ I would, of course, punch his head back,” answered the lad triumphantly.

“ Good ! Now let us go a step further. Suppose

h 2 your school fellows were going on a picnic, and Kobina Tsintsin’s boys met you on the public road and barred your progress, would not you brave lads fight your way through? ”

££ Of course, dad, what else could we do in honour of our school ? 5 ’

£ £ Now, for the application. In geography books you have learnt that different nations dwell on the face of the earth — white, yellow, red, brown and black like ourselves. They each occupy a portion of the earth’s surface. Those who occupy those tiny islands somewhere in the English Channel are, as you know, called the English. So you have the Japanese, those brave fellows, the Indians, the Africans, or to come down to particulars, among the Africans, say, the Zulus, the Ashantis, and the Fantis. To give the principle which made you punch Kweku Mensah back, and your school fellows bravely break through the ranks of Kobina Tsintsin’s boys, a name, let us call it the law of self-preservation. Now, if you relax the practice of this principle in the course of life, you go under, and men then talk of the survivors as the fittest, because they have resisted best. You remember those lines in Shakespeare you were reciting to me the other day :

‘ . Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee — ’ iThat is a wholesome rule of life, my boy. Well,” pursued Kwamankra, ‘ c there are certain nations in the world who call themselves Christians, and who claim a monopoly of culture, knowledge and civilisation, and who, ergo, think that they have a heaven-born right to survive and thrive while all others go under. They are mostly whites, and when either the brown, or the yellow, or the black man resists and shows he does not mean to go under, these self-same white Christian people ‘ Black Peril,’ as the case may be. Do you understand, my lad ? ’ ’ laying his hand slowly on the child’s head, and looking him straight in the face, so that the child’s eyes met the father’s fully and meaningly.

“ Yes, I do, dad,” replied the lad. “ But tell me, dad, I did not wish to interrupt you before — why did you call the Japs, ‘ those brave fellows ? ”’

“ Why, simply because in the present contest they are engaged in with Russia, they have shown they do not mean to go under, whoever else may do so ; and they have caused the cry of ‘ the yellow peril ’ of late to go up more hysterically than ever. Listen to this rare bit,” said Kwamankra, reaching for his scrap album and turning to the letter J : “ The sacred duty is incumbent upon us, as the leading state of Asiatic progress to stretch a helping hand to China, India, and Korea, to all the Asiatics who have confidence in us, and who are capable of civilisation. As their more powerful friend, we desire them all to be free from the yoke which Europe has placed upon them, and that they may hereby prove to the world that the Orient is capable of measuring swords with the Occident on any field of battle.” These words were spoken in the Japanese House of Peers, and they embody the principle I have been trying to inculcate upon you in a nutshell. You will do wTell to remember them all your life; and since I find you an apt pupil likely to pass the lessons on to others after I am gone, I will tell you of my experiences with the Political Officer.”

“ But what is a Political Officer? ” queried the stripling.

“ There you are again with your inquiring little brain. I must begin from premises to conclusion, step by step, like the quod erat demonstrandum you were worrying me with the other day. Still you are right, my boy. Once define clearly, and all difficulties vanish, as mist before the noon-day sun. Well, the system of Government under which we, the people of the Gold Coast, live is known as the ‘ Crown Colony system.’ It is a system somewhat behind the times. Now, what would you boys think of your schoolmaster in these enlightened days if he should, from time to time, ask you to contribute out of your pocket money funds for the Ill laying out of a recreation ground without allowing some of you boys to have a say as to how things were to be done, and what games were to be bought for the school ? I am sure you would all revolt and say, ‘ If you are going to use our money, you might at least let us say what games we would like.’ Under the system I am telling you of the schoolmaster is the Governor, and the lads are the people of this country whose contributions are in the shape of the heavy duties they pay on all imported articles. But they have no voice in the spending of their contributions, and that is why I say the system is somewhat behind the times. To proceed, seeing there must be discontent among the people, the Political Officer is the man appointed to deal with cases arising out of such discontent.”

“But how? I don’t quite understand, dad. Does he go and speak kindly to the people and tell them not to mind, and that they will have the value of their contributions, if they are patient? ”

Kwamankra burst out hilariously, and for some minutes could not control himself. The lad began to feel sheepish, and thought he must have said something very odd. But, presently Kwamankra came to, and a look of sadness seemed to play upon his countenance as slowly he murmured to himself the words :

‘ And its heart as pure as now.’ Quick as thought, memory had flashed back that unique chapter in his life’s experience when she and he had watched over this very child in infant slumbers, bone of their bone, flesh of their flesh, and in the fulness of their hearts the prayer had gone up :

“ That when time’s mystic fingers wrote manhood on its brow,

It’s deeds might be as gentle and its heart as pure as now.”

And now, he was left alone to help realise that prayer in the youthful enquirer. Mastering his feelings, and, for the moment rolling a stone over the sepulchre of the ever virgin past, Kwamankra turned to his son, and drawing him closely to his heart, spoke gently thus : “ How I wish I could keep you, my boy, from knowing the seamy side of life. But since knowledge must come some day, it were well I guided thee to the sources thereof, if so be it might not be all gall to thy thirsty soul.”

“ No, the Political Officer does not exactly do what one should think, my boy. Here on the Gold Coast the people have also shown that they do not mean to go under, but in a different way. You know the story of the wolf and the lamb. I see you are all eagerness. Well, it will bear repetition. The wolf meets the lamb on a thirsty day by a stream. The wolf stands higher up the stream and drinks, while the lamb quenches its thirst in the lower part. Presently Mr. Wolf says to Master Lamb, c what do you mean by making the stream muddy ? 5 ‘ How can that be ? ’

says Master Lamb, c since you are higher up the stream than I am.’ ‘ I hear you spoke disrespectfully of me three months ago,’ puts in Mr. Wolf. Master Lamb meekly : ‘ I have been in the world only two months gone.’ ‘ Well, if it wasn’t you,’ replies the wolf, ‘ it must have been your father who did.’ ”

“Coward!” cried Ekra Kwow, excitedly. “ Don’t I wish I were close by with my little pop gun ? I should have put a hole through Mr. Wolf right enough.”

“ Good, my boy, that’s well said. But, unfortunately, it is an every day occurrence in this world, and, what is worse, we can’t always bring to play our pop guns when we may morally be justified in doing so.”

‘ ‘ But it is high time you were in bed. Another time, if you are good, I will tell you all about the Political Officer, and my experiences with him, if you remind me how far we have come to-day.”

“ Good-night, dad ! ”

“ Good-night, my boy,” and, in a minute, he had disappeared behind the curtains, leaving Kwamankra to his thoughts and to his pipe.