SOURCE: "Hunting the Soko" (Under the Punkah, 1881) by Phil Robinson

DESCRIPTION: "It had stood upright amongst the upright men, and turning to run has stooped, but only so much as a man might do when running with all his speed. In the gait there was a one-sided swing, just as some great man-ape — gorilla or chimpanzee — might have when, as travellers tell us, they help themselves along on the knuckles of the long fore-arm, the body swaying down to the side on which the hand touches the ground at each stride. In one hand was a small branch of some leafy shrub, for I distinctly remembered having seen it as it began to run. The speed must have been great, for it was very soon out of sight; but there was no appearance of rapidity in the movement — like the wolf's slow-looking gallop, that no horse can overtake, and that soon tires out the fleetest hound. As it began to run it had made a jabbering sound — an inarticulate expression of simple human fear I had thought it to be; but now, pondering over it, I began to wonder that I could have mistaken that swiftly retreating figure for human. It is true that I did not want to think of it as human, and perhaps my wishes may have coloured my retrospect; at any rate, whatever the process, I found myself, after a while, laughing at myself for having turned sick at heart when the suspicion came across me that perhaps the Soko of the forests of Uregga, the feast-day dish of the jungle-tribes, might be a human being. The long, lolloping gait, the jabbering, should alone have dispelled the terror. It is true that my men heard it say, "Ai, ma! ma!" as it started to run by them. But in half the languages of the world, mama is a synonym for "mother," and it follows, therefore, that it is not a word at all, but simply the phonetic rendering of the first bleating, babbling articulation of babyhood — an animal noise uttered as articulately by young sheep and young goats as by young men and women. The staff, too, was of the common type in these districts, and had been picked up, no doubt, by the Soko in some twilight prowling round a grain store, or perhaps gained in fair fight from some villager whom it had surprised, solitary and defenceless. And then my thoughts ran on to all I had read or heard of the Soko, of its societies for mutual defence or food-supply, and the comparative amiability of such communities — of the solitary outlawed Soko, the vindictive, lawless bandit of the trees, who wanders about round the habitations of men, lying in wait for the women and the children robbing the granaries and orchards, and stealing, for the simple larceny's sake, household chattels of the use of which it is ignorant. Shumari, a hunter born and bred, was full of Soko lore; the skin he said, was covered, except on the throat, hands, and feet, with a short, harsh hair of a dark colour, and tipped in the older individuals with grey; these also had long growths of hair on the head, their cheeks and lips. It had no tail...it is as tall as I am (he was only five feet one inch), and its eyes are together in the front of its face, so that it looks at you straight. It eats sitting up, and when tired leans its back against a tree, putting its hands behind its head...Their front teeth are very sharp, and at each side is one longer and sharper than the rest." ("Hunting the Soko" by Phil Robinson)

NOTES: The soko is a hairy man who looks very much like a human being, being able to slip into a party of pygmies without being detected. They may have rudimentary speech. Soko live in villages built in the trees. Their garbage is thrown on the ground, usually fruit peels and snail shells. They may bury their dead under mounds of myombo leaves. They use few tools other than sticks which they use to knock down fruit. They have no knives or spears. The relationship between humans and sokos is one of violence. The locals kill soko whenever they happen upon one, usually sleeping. When a soko does go after a man he holds him, makes him face him and jabbers. Then he bites off all his fingers before strangling him or beating him to death with a branch. Women and children taken by soko are never seen again, perhaps eaten.

HISTORY: This story is listed as one of the predecessors to Tarzan. It reminds me more of the hunting adventures of Allan Quatermain by H. R. Haggard. The soko may be the African version of the sasquatch of North America.