------------------------------------------------------------------------

                          Transcriber’s Note:

This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_.

Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are
referenced.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding
the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.




                        CONGO LIFE AND FOLKLORE




[Illustration: _Photo_]      A NATIVE VILLAGE.      [_Rev. R. H.
Kirkland_]

[Illustration:

  THE MAIN PATH ON WATHEN STATION.
  (Note the “Welcome” Banner.)
]




                               CONGO LIFE
                              AND FOLKLORE

                                 PART I
                           LIFE ON THE CONGO
                      AS DESCRIBED BY A BRASS ROD

                                PART II
                      THIRTY-THREE NATIVE STORIES
                    AS TOLD ROUND THE EVENING FIRES

                                 BY THE
                           REV. JOHN H. WEEKS
                      (BAPTIST MISSIONARY SOCIETY)




                          _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_








                                 LONDON
                      THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
          4 BOUVERIE STREET; & 65 ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD, E.C.
                                  1911




                                   TO

                     MY COLLEAGUES, LIVING AND DEAD

             WHOSE ARDUOUS LABOURS AND FAITHFUL LIVES HAVE
                 REDOUNDED TO THE GLORY OF CHRIST, AND
            TO THE ESTABLISHMENT OF HIS KINGDOM IN CONGOLAND

                                 AND TO

                   THOSE CO-WORKERS IN THE HOME-LAND

            WHOSE GENEROSITY, PRAYERS AND KINDLY WORDS HAVE
                 SUPPORTED, STRENGTHENED AND ENCOURAGED
                    THEM ALL THESE YEARS, THIS BOOK
                       IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED




                                PREFACE


A brass rod is the money of by far the larger number of the people on
the Lower and Upper Congo. In thickness it is not quite so stout as an
ordinary slate pencil, and varies now in length, according to the tribe
using it, from five inches long on the Lower Congo to an indefinite
length among the more distant tribes of Congo’s hinterland. Originally
the brass wire was employed on the Congo for purposes of ornamentation,
either of the person in the form of necklets, armlets, and anklets, or
of articles they greatly prized and wished to decorate. It was beaten
into ribbons and wound round the hafts of their favourite spears,
paddles, and knives which were only used on gala days; or the wire was
melted down, and, with much skill, made into personal ornaments. I have
seen brass necklets weighing twenty-eight pounds, and have taken from a
woman’s legs brass rings that weighed in the aggregate nearly sixty
pounds. It is probable that at first this brass wire changed hands in
lengths of several fathoms, and gradually pieces of a certain length
were sold at a fixed value, and thus it became in due time the article
of common exchange--the currency, the money of the country.

For a considerable time the writer has been interested in the folklore
and anthropology of the people, and has made long and careful notes on
such subjects, and some of this information he has worked into the
story. For obvious reasons much must be left unwritten[1] in a popular
book; but that which finds a place in the following pages can be
accepted as perfectly trustworthy and true to Congo life. The missionary
and other experiences are founded on fact, the views and prejudices of
the natives are faithfully pourtrayed and are not exaggerated, and the
native superstitions have, as shown here, resulted in innumerable cases
of murder by ordeal, and the killing off of the most progressive
natives, possessors of inventive genius, of irrepressible energy and of
great skill--the best men, who would have been the leaders of their
people and would have left them more advanced than they found them but
for the witch-doctor and the ordeal.

Footnote 1:

  It may interest those who would read further on the folklore of the
  Lower Congo people that in _Folk-Lore_ (the Journal of the Folk-Lore
  Society) for 1908, 1909, 1910, and 1911 more detailed articles will be
  found, which were furnished by the writer.

By writing under the guise of a Brass Rod, worn first round the neck of
one owner and then round the arm of another, the writer has had more
scope, and he hopes has been able to make the scenes from life more
realistic than he could have done by the ordinary method. And the reader
will find that the book deals much more largely with the people of the
country--their habits, customs, views of life and superstitions--than
with the scenery.

The book has been written during the intervals of deputational work; and
its object is to lay clearly before the reader the ingrained prejudices,
the curious views, the tremendous and all-pervading superstitions, and
the mighty forces that have been arrayed against the introduction of
Christianity into that benighted land, and how, in spite of such forces
against it, the evangel of Jesus Christ has triumphed more wonderfully
than our poor faith and often blundering efforts have deserved.

It is hoped that superintendents, Sunday-school teachers, leaders of
Christian Endeavours and of missionary prayer-meetings may find that the
reading aloud of some of these chapters will awaken in their scholars
and hearers a deeper sympathy with missionary work, and that ministers
and teachers will discover in the stories told around the Congo fire,
which form the second part of this volume, _new nails_ upon which to
hang old truths.

                                                      JOHN H. WEEKS.

    _Baptist Mission House,
        19 Furnival Street, Holborn._




                                CONTENTS

                                                                    PAGE

 PREFACE                                                             vii

                                 PART I

                                CHAPTER I

                            EN ROUTE TO CONGO

 _I am packed in a box--Sent to Congoland--My journey on the           1
   ocean steamer--Curious names of the Kroo boys--Landed at
   Banana--Thrown on the deck of a river steamer_


                               CHAPTER II

                         MY JOURNEY UP THE CONGO

 _Our captain and tyrant--River scenes--We camp at a                   6
   trading-station--Native riddles_


                               CHAPTER III

                       MY OVERLAND JOURNEY BEGINS

 _The white man’s fetish--I am exchanged with others for rubber       12
   and ivory--My new companions express freely their opinions
   about the white men--Why the white men are on the
   Congo--Native suspicions and prejudices_


                               CHAPTER IV

                      WE REACH THE TOWN OF MY OWNER

 _Crossing the Mpalabala hills--The head man knocks his toes--It      19
   is an evil omen--He visits the “medicine man”--Finds his
   brother dying--Last hours of the dying chief_



                                CHAPTER V

                             A FUNERAL ORGY

 _Satu becomes chief--Preparations for the funeral feast--My box      24
   is opened--I become a neck ornament--Bakula, my new owner, is
   smart, but superstitious--The mourners assemble and present
   their gifts--The toilet before eating--Drunkenness and
   quarrelling--Corpse is carried to the grave--A white man wants
   to steal the ivory trumpets--He is shaved and sent about his
   business_


                               CHAPTER VI

                              OUR TOWN LIFE

 _Streets are irregular--Houses small and draughty--Their             34
   reception, dining, and drawing rooms are in the open
   air--Their many charms and fetishes--Routine of the
   day--Bakula tells a story: “How the Sparrow set the Elephant
   and the Crocodile to pull against each other”--Tumbu, a slave,
   relates the tale of “The Four Fools”--And Bakula tells: “How
   the Squirrel won a Verdict for the Gazelle”_


                               CHAPTER VII

                        THE SEARCH FOR THE WITCH

 _People believe their chief died by witchcraft--They send for        49
   the witch-finder--His arrival and antics--The ceremony of
   discovering the witch--Satu’s brother, Mavakala, is
   accused--Why was Mavakala accused?--He takes the
   ordeal--Proves his innocence--Other tests are forced on
   him--He is done to death_


                              CHAPTER VIII

                             VISITORS ARRIVE

 _The dulness and pettiness of native life--Arrival of two            58
   visitors--Bakula questions them about the white man--They
   relate the little they know about him--Old Plaited-Beard stirs
   the people up against the white man--They exchange their views
   about him--They agree to oppose him--The white man is seen
   approaching--He is driven from the town and has to sleep in
   the bush_


                               CHAPTER IX

                   SOME CUSTOMS, GAMES, AND A JOURNEY

 _The Luck-giver is called to bring prosperity on the town--His       69
   mode of procedure--Satu and some of his people go on a visit
   to a great chief--Good and bad omens--The game at
   “Antelope”--Bakula narrates a story: “How the Fox saved the
   Frog’s Life”--Another lad tells why inquiry should come before
   anger--The difficult road--Bakula and his friends dress
   themselves--Their mixed wardrobes_


                                CHAPTER X

                     OUR RECEPTION AND ENTERTAINMENT

 _The welcome of Tonzeka and his people--A case judged--We find       89
   the white man in Tonzeka’s town--Tonzeka defends the white
   man--He complains of the effect of the white man’s
   preaching--A drunken bout_


                               CHAPTER XI

                        SATU VISITS THE WHITE MAN

 _Bakula goes to the white man to have his wound dressed--White      100
   man puts in a good word for the traders--Bakula is touched by
   the white man’s kindness--A native dance--An exhibition of
   native pride--A long talk with the white man--We gain many new
   ideas from our conversation--Bakula has another interview with
   the white man and they become good friends_


                               CHAPTER XII

                        NATIVE GAMES AND PASTIMES

 _Make-believe games--“Biti” and needle--Game with canna             114
   seeds--Hoop game--“Mbele,” or Knife game--The story of “The
   Four Wonders,” or a puzzle story--Conundrums--“The Adventures
   of the Twins”_


                              CHAPTER XIII

                      BAKULA ACCOMPANIES AN EMBASSY

 _A title reverts to Satu--He sends Old Plaited-Beard to the King    131
   with a present--The embassy arrives at the King’s town--Has an
   audience in the King’s house--King promises to send a deputy
   to install Satu--King dines with the white man and sees a
   magic lantern--Bakula and the white man renew their
   acquaintance--He sleeps on the Mission Station and hears all
   about the King’s household_


                               CHAPTER XIV

                     BAKULA STAYS WITH THE WHITE MAN

 _The working of a Mission Station--Buying food--The                 148
   school--Bakula is afraid to enter the school--Repairing the
   station--Boys work in the gardens--A quarrel, and how it was
   settled--An evening’s chat with the white man--Rubbing evil
   spirits out of a man--Sunday
   service--Congregation--Sermon--Visit to a near town--Religious
   talk with the King--Boys pray for their white
   teacher--Witch-doctor’s trick exposed_


                               CHAPTER XV

                          SATU RECEIVES A TITLE

 _The King sends for medicine--He is told to apply to St.            167
   Catherine--The King’s promise--Bakula bids farewell to his
   white friend--King’s deputy goes with us to Satu’s
   town--Ceremony of conferring the title--Killing a
   leopard--Satu redeems his brother--Releases his niece from a
   hateful marriage--A story: “Appearances are sometimes
   Deceptive”--A chief asks for Satu’s niece in
   marriage--Marriage money is paid--The wedding--Satu gains a
   new slave_


                               CHAPTER XVI

                        HUNTING AND BUSH-BURNING

 _Manner of bush-burning--Witch-doctor makes a hunting               194
   charm--Ceremony is carefully performed--Blazing bush and
   rushing animals--Satu arranges with another chief to burn the
   bush--Dimbula breaks the law and insults Satu--War is
   declared--Old Plaited-Beard being unsuccessful accuses Bakula
   of bewitching him--He tries to restore his luck_


                              CHAPTER XVII

                      SATU AND HIS PEOPLE GO TO WAR

 _Satu as the insulted party makes the first move--He sends an       212
   embassy to Dimbula--He asks for an apology or offers a
   bullet--The apology is refused, but the bullet is
   accepted--The witch-doctor makes a war charm--Mode of
   fighting--The ridge-pole of chief’s house is captured--Dimbula
   sues for peace with a white goat--Pays homage to Satu--Blood
   brotherhood is made_


                              CHAPTER XVIII

                GOVERNING, MARKETING, AND TRADING CUSTOMS

 _The making and enforcing of laws--Fines imposed--Division of       223
   fines--Congo week of four days probably named after their
   markets--Raids and robberies--Preparing a caravan for the
   road--Rules of the road--Arriving at a trading-station--Mode
   of trading--Goods given and received_


                               CHAPTER XIX

                      AN ACCUSATION AND THE ORDEAL

 _Old Plaited-Beard charges Bakula with stealing--The accusation     240
   is denied--Bakula declares his disbelief in charms and
   witch-doctors--Satu saves him from immediate death--The
   missing cloth is found in Bakula’s house--Tumbu exposes the
   accuser’s trickery--He is ridiculed--Bakula submits to the
   ordeal of the boiling oil--His arm is badly scalded--During
   the night Bakula escapes to the Mission Station_


                               CHAPTER XX

                            BAKULA AT SCHOOL

 _After much nursing Bakula recovers--He becomes a school-boy--He    252
   struggles with the alphabet--He learns to understand
   pictures--Routine life--Bakula itinerates with his white
   man--He does not relish sleeping in the wet bush--He is
   convicted of sin--He inquires the way of salvation--The lads
   play a trick on a witch-doctor--Bakula is received into the
   Church--He returns to his town_


                               CHAPTER XXI

                          BAKULA’S WORK CHECKED

 _The conservatism of the Congo people--Bakula and his scholars      267
   build a school-house--A missionary visits his town--He
   encourages Bakula in his work--A “luck fowl” dies--Its death
   is put to the credit of the missionary’s visit and
   teaching--The school-house is pulled down--Satu is afraid to
   interfere--Native way of punishing an unpopular chief_


                              CHAPTER XXII

                   BAKULA FALSELY ACCUSED AND MURDERED

 _Failure of various remedies--Witch-doctor engaged--Diagnosing a    274
   case--Different “medicine men” are called in--Bakula denounces
   their trickery--Suspicion of witchcraft falls on
   Bakula--Native attempts to rid themselves of death, sickness,
   etc.--Preparing a corpse for the grave--Bakula is accused of
   bewitching his mother to death--He is guarded by Old
   Plaited-Beard through the night--He is taken to the
   hill-top--He falls and is done to death--Tumbu buries the
   mangled body of his friend_


                              CHAPTER XXIII

                           I FIND MANY CHANGES

 _Mikula while digging the foundations for a brick house             294
   discovers me--The town is changed--There is daily
   worship--Observance of the sabbath--Sunday
   service--Collections for support of teachers--Christian
   funeral--Visit to the Mission Station--Teaching
   teachers--Martyrs for the cause_

                              CHAPTER XXIV

                    A MARRIAGE AND A HARVEST FESTIVAL

 _A Christian wedding--Grateful offerings--Christianity a great      307
   boon to the women--Reunion--Various meetings--Lady
   missionaries conduct services--Auction sale of the
   gifts--Changed lives--Mikula instructs a stranger in the way
   of Salvation--Rules for candidates and for Church fellowship_


                               CHAPTER XXV

                    MIKULA AT THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL

 _Months glide quickly by while working hard--Deacon’s               326
   meeting--Church-meeting--The kind of candidates who were
   rejected--Baptismal service--The great meeting of the
   Church--Election of deacons--The balance sheet--A
   deficit--Native Christians wipe out the debt--Local missionary
   meeting--The great communion service_

 NOTES TO PART I                                                     341


                                 PART II

        NATIVE STORIES TOLD AROUND THE EVENING FIRES IN CONGOLAND

 _Introduction_                                                      361


                                    I

 _How the Fowl evaded his Debt_                                      371


                                   II

 _Why the Small-ant was the Winner_                                  374


                                   III

 _How the Animals imitated the Gazelle and brought Trouble upon      376
   Themselves_


                                   IV

 _Why the Fowls never shut their Doors_                              379


 V

 _Why the Dog and the Palm-rat hate each other_                      382


                                   VI

 _The Leopard boils his Mother’s Teeth_                              384


                                   VII

 _How the Ants saved the Partridge’s Eggs_                           386


                                  VIII

 _The Leopard sticks to the Nkondi_ (_wooden image_)                 388


                                   IX

 _How the Mouse won his Wife_                                        391


                                    X

 _The Gazelle outwits the Leopard_                                   396


                                   XI

 _The Gazelle punishes the Palm-rat for breaking his promise_        399


                                   XII

 _How the Crow cheated the Dove and got into Difficulty through      401
   it_


                                  XIII

 _How the Civet and the Tortoise lost their Friendship for each      403
   other_


                                   XIV

 _The Water-Fairies save a Child_                                    406


                                   XV

 _How the Squirrel repaid a Kindness_                                410


                                   XVI

 _The King-fisher deceives the Owl_                                  415


                                  XVII

 _How the Tortoise was punished for his Deceit_                      416


                                  XVIII

 _How the Frog collected his Debt from the Hawk_                     419


                                   XIX

 _How a Child saved his Mother’s Life_                               422


                                   XX

 _How the Gazelle won his Wife_                                      425


                                   XXI

 _The Gazelle is at last punished_                                   429


                                  XXII

 _The Leopard pays Homage to the Goat_                               433


                                  XXIII

 _Why the Owls and the Fowls never speak to each other_              436


                                  XXIV

 _How the Elephant punished the Leopard_                             439


                                   XXV

 _How the Leopard tried to deceive the Gazelle_                      441


                                  XXVI

 _The Story of two Young Women_                                      443


                                  XXVII

 _Why the Chameleon cut off his own Head_                            445


                                 XXVIII

 _Why the Congo Robin has a Red Breast_                              447


                                  XXIX

 _The Leopard tries to steal the Gazelle’s Wife_                     449


                                   XXX

 _The Gazelle kills the Flies and Mosquitoes, and outwits the        451
   Leopard_


                                  XXXI

 _The Leopard is badly tricked by the Gazelle, Rat, and Frog_        454


                                  XXXII

 _Why the Small-ants live in the Houses_                             460


                                 XXXIII

 _The Son who tried to outwit his Father_                            462

 INDEX                                                               463




             The following Stories will be found in Part I

 CHAP. VI.—       _How the Sparrow set the Elephant and the Crocodile to
               pull against each other (p. 39); The Four Fools: a puzzle
                   story (p. 43); How the Squirrel won a Verdict for the
                                                       Gazelle (p. 46)._

 CHAP. IX.—   _How the Fox saved the Frog’s Life (p. 77); Inquiry should
                                             come before Anger (p. 81)._

 CHAP. XII.—   _The Four Wonders: a puzzle story (p. 122); Adventures of
                                                    the Twins (p. 126)._

 CHAP. XV.—              _Appearances are sometimes deceptive (p. 182)._

                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                                                   _Facing Page_

       A NATIVE VILLAGE                }
       THE MAIN PATH ON WATHEN STATION } _Frontispiece_

       THE LOWER CONGO RIVER NINETY MILES FROM THE SEA        10

       A CONGO HUT                                            10

       THE BEGINNING OF THE SCHOOL AT NKABA                   58

       JUNGLE PATH THROUGH THE FOREST                         84

       WATHEN: THE BOYS’ QUARTERS                            100

       WATHEN: THE DISPENSARY                                100

       SCHOOL-BOYS PLAYING HOCKEY                            116

       AT THE GIANT STRIDE                                   116

       GYMNASTICS                                            116

       BUSY WASHING                                          128

       RESTING AFTER WASHING                                 128

       SCENES IN CATARACT REGION                             166

       A WITCH-DOCTOR                                        166

       NATIVE ROPE BRIDGE                                    202

       NATIVE BRIDGE                                         202

       WHITE TRADER AND NATIVE TRADERS AND THEIR PRODUCE     236

       THE REV. JOHN H. WEEKS AND HIS BOYS                   252

       CLOTH WEAVING                                         258

       BLACKSMITHS                                           258

       CATS’ CRADLES                                         284

       A PROTECTIVE FETISH                                   284

       DEACONS OF WATHEN CHURCH                              304

       TEACHERS WORKING UNDER THE WATHEN CHURCH              304

       A CHRISTIAN WEDDING                                   312

       CHURCH COLLECTION AT WATHEN                           312

       A NATIVE MARKET                                       332

       BAPTISMAL SERVICE, CHRISTMAS 1905                     332

                                 PART I
                           Life on the Congo
                      AS DESCRIBED BY A BRASS ROD

[Illustration:

  THE BRASS ROD

  [_The currency of the Country_]]
]




                           LIFE ON THE CONGO

                               Chapter I
                           En Route to Congo

I am packed in a box--Sent to Congoland--My journey on the ocean
    steamer--Curious names of the Kroo boys--Landed at Banana--Thrown on
    the deck of a river steamer.


I am much older than you think, for it is more than twenty-five years
ago since I was born in a great factory in one of your English towns.
The years that have passed since my birthday have been filled with joy
and sorrow, rest and toil; but in looking back over them I think they
have contained more sorrow and toil than rest and joy.

When I was born I was very tall--nearly thirty inches high; but instead
of growing taller I have become shorter, being only[2] eleven inches
long now, for my enemies have cut off one little piece after another to
melt down for brass ornaments. Folk think more of finery than of
honesty. I must not, however, anticipate my sorrows, for they came all
too soon.

Footnote 2:

  See note 1, p. 341.

Soon after I was born I was put with many other brass rods into a dark
box, and nailed in very tightly; for I heard one of the workmen say that
I was to take a very long journey over sea and land. There was
fortunately a hole in my box, and looking I saw that we were first put
on a train, and then carried into the hold of a big ship. Soon after we
were all packed carefully and tightly in the hold, the steamer began to
move, and we could hear the creaking of the rigging and the rattling of
the racing engines, and feel the pitching and rolling of the great
steamer itself.

I felt very glad when the pitching and rolling stopped, and the cover
was taken from the hold, and the beautiful sunshine came streaming in,
making the rats scurry off with their young to dark corners and cracks.

Just then we heard the bang of a cannon and the shrill scream of a
whistle; and, wondering what was going to happen next, we heard the
babble of many voices, and the patter of naked feet along the deck; and
a voice shouted; “There, our gang is complete. We don’t want any more,
and the sooner you others get over the side into your canoes, the better
for your health.”

I heard an old palm-oil barrel who had taken this journey many times
remark to a new one: “We are now off the Kroo Coast, West Africa, and
have taken on Kroo boys[3] to work the cargo and keep the decks clean.
That bang of the cannon was to call them, and the whistle was to hurry
them.”

Footnote 3:

  See note 2, p. 342.

I do not know how many Kroo boys we engaged; but they were very noisy,
and gave us many a sleepless night. At four o’clock in the morning,
while we were at sea, they began to rub the decks with stones and scrape
the ironwork with knives, talking incessantly all the time; but when we
were in port it was worse, for they not only worked the winches right
over our heads from early morn till late at night, but they came down
into the hold, turned us over and pitched us about so that if I had not
had a good wooden box round me I should have been badly bent and
bruised. Some of my friends were smashed to pieces, and some bales I
knew received deep gashes in their sides, and others I never saw again.

It was a sad journey, full of partings, for those Kroo boys never came
into our hold without tying up some of my friends, and we saw them for a
moment hoisted into the air, and over the side they went, into what?--I
knew later, but not then.

What curious names those Kroo boys had! Some of them still linger in my
memory, such as: Peasoup, Teacup, Bottle-of-Beer, Brass-pan, Top-hat,
Kettle, Arm-chair, Pen-and-ink, Kiss-me-quick, Flower-vase,
Napoleon-Buonaparte, and Duke-of-Wellington.[4] I learned afterwards
that the reason why they had these names was that their white masters,
not being able to pronounce their proper country names when they first
engaged them, gave them any name that happened to come into their heads
at the moment, and such names stuck to them all the days of their
service on the coast. It was amusing to hear these names called, or,
when one was asked his name, to hear him answer: “Me, massa, me be
Bottle-of-Beer.”

Footnote 4:

  See note 3, p. 342.

The Kroo boys good-humouredly retaliated by giving their masters names
that picturesquely described any peculiarities they observed in them.
One they called Big-nose, another Skinny-legs, another Long-legs, and a
fourth Bald-head. There was more appropriateness in the names they gave
their masters than the names they received from them.

About seven weeks after we started my box was tied with others, hoisted
into the air, and thrown over the side of the ship into a big boat, and
we were rowed ashore and landed at Banana. As we were going a Kroo boy
spied me through my peephole, and tried hard to drag me out of my
comfortable resting-place; but I clung tightly to the others, and thus
successfully resisted his attempts to steal me. I soon found myself in a
large store filled with huge piles of boxes, bales, and crates, and long
rows of large bottles filled with rum and other fiery waters.

After a few days a white man came into our store, and, sorting out a
large number of cases, bales and bottles, sent them away on the heads
and shoulders of Kroo boys. For two days they were carrying out loads as
quickly as they could, and just as I was thinking that I should not be
disturbed a Kroo boy came and lifted my box in his strong arms, and,
carrying me across the busy, sunlit yard, threw me with much force on
the deck of a steamer, and I became unconscious.




                               Chapter II
                        My Journey up the Congo

           Our captain and tyrant--River scenes--We camp at a
                    trading-station--Native riddles.


When my senses returned I found my box was piled on deck with many other
boxes like it, and thus I had a fine view. The sun was rising, flooding
the river with its brightness, lighting up the distant hills and
throwing into sombre shadow the mangrove trees that lined the banks.
There was much hustling and shouting on board as the ropes were cast
loose; and I soon began to feel the throb of the engines, and hear the
rush of the water as the small steamer pushed its way against the strong
current that was hurrying the mighty volume of the Congo to the sea.

On reaching mid-channel I could see that the trading-houses of Banana
were built on a narrow tongue of sand, having on one side the Atlantic
Ocean constantly rolling and sometimes madly rushing as though it
desired to tear the very tongue out of the mouth of the river; and on
the other side the gentle lap, lap of a back current of the river
itself.

The Congo is said to be fifteen miles wide at the mouth--from hills to
hills; but it does not look so wide because of the islands and mangrove
swamps that hinder a clear view of the whole width, and narrow one’s
vision to the channel in which you are steaming.

From my position I had an easy view of the deck of our small steamer.
There were only two white men on board--a captain and an engineer; the
former was a short man, who never spoke without swearing, and never gave
an order without punching or kicking one of the black crew. He had a
large rubicund nose, hideously coloured by frequent applications to the
bottles that were always on his table. He was privately nicknamed by his
crew as Red-nose, and was thoroughly feared and hated by them all. Many
of them were slaves and could not get away from him, and others had
contracted for one or two years’ service, and if they ran away they
would have lost their pay; but notwithstanding this some did escape,
preferring loss of pay to constant brutal treatment.

The current was too strong to remain long in mid-channel, so the steamer
went near to the bank and pushed and fought its way, with much rattling,
throbbing and panting, from point to point of the various bays. When the
water was too swift to be conquered at one place, the steamer, snorting
with defeat, crossed the channel and worked its way up-river on the
other side.

There was not much to be seen--no hippopotami, no crocodiles, and very
few natives in canoes, and only an occasional trading-station on
low-lying, swampy land surrounded by palm-trees, plantain groves and
vegetable gardens. Here and there men were to be seen fishing with large
oval nets. They stood on the rocks by which the water rushed tumbling
and foaming in its hurry to reach the sea, and dipped in their nets with
the mouths up-stream, and, pulling up the whitebait thus caught, laid
them on the rocks to dry. Others made small fences by the river’s bank
about eighteen inches apart and three feet long, and into these they put
small scoop-shaped nets, and drew up the small fish that had passed
between the fences.

By sunset we reached a trading-station belonging to my owners. Our
steamer was quickly tied to the bank, and all made secure for the night.
The men soon had some fires lighted along the beach, and saucepans of
food boiling on them, and pieces of meat roasting in the ashes. Groups
gathered round the fires, and after a hearty meal of rice, ship-biscuits
and meat, they became very talkative, and soon started asking riddles.
Some of these riddles I still remember after all these changeful years;
and I will try to tell you a few of them.

A Loango man named Tati seemed to know most riddles,[5] and he was
called upon to make a start. After much persuasion he asked: “What is
this? _The stick is very little; but it has a number of leaves on it._”
One after another attempted to give the answer, but as they all failed,
Tati said: “The answer is--_Market_, because it is a small place, but
has a lot of people on it.” They chuckled with delight over the neatness
of the riddle, and demanded Tati to give them another.

Footnote 5:

  See note 4, p. 343.

Tati sat in a brown study for a few minutes, and then, looking up, said:
“_There were five buffaloes; but only four tracks._” Semo, who was
Tati’s rival in this game, instantly cried out: “_Fingers_” as the
answer, because while there are five fingers on a hand there are only
four tracks, _i. e._ spaces between them.

Semo was then asked to give one, and without a moment’s thought he cried
out: “_My father’s fowls laid their eggs under the leaves._” All kinds
of guesses were made; but at last admitting their failure, Semo said:
“_Peanuts_,” and of course they all saw it at once--peanuts grow under
the ground beneath their own leaves.

Semo was called upon for another riddle, and after a short pause he
said: “_I went to a strange town, and they gave me one-legged fowls to
eat._” This one also was too difficult for them to guess, and after many
attempts Semo had to give the answer, viz. _Mushrooms_, which have only
one stalk (_i. e._ one leg) on which to stand.

Soon after this the talk became general, and gradually died away as one
by one they rolled themselves in their mats and went to sleep, leaving
the fires brightly burning to throw out warmth to the sleepers and to
frighten away hippopotami, crocodiles and sundry other creatures. During
the night the snorting of hippopotami could be heard as they gambolled
in the shallow water near the bank; and occasionally the switch of a
crocodile became audible as it hurried by in search of food for its
cruel but never-satiated jaws; many noises also came from the dark
forest just beyond the settlement, that filled the night with weirdness
and made the first glow of dawn welcome to men, birds and beasts.

[Illustration: A CONGO HUT.]

[Illustration: THE LOWER CONGO RIVER ABOUT 90 MILES FROM THE SEA.]

Just as the sun peeped above the eastern horizon bells began to ring,
and the whole station awoke to life. My friends, the crew, hurriedly
came from their mats, and were soon carrying bales, boxes and bottles
ashore, under the directions of a white man, and in an hour or so all
the goods for that station were discharged, and the steamer was pushing
its nose against the strong current of brown, oily-looking water to the
next up-river station.

The higher we ascended the river the narrower it became, and the more
powerful was the rush of water on its ever-scurrying way to the sea.
Whirlpools opened up at the most unexpected places, making the steamer
roll and pitch, and straining the engines until they panted and groaned
in their never-ceasing struggle with the giant current. Twice we were
twisted round in a place called the Devil’s Cauldron and carried
down-river, but at the third attempt the giant was conquered, and an
hour or so later we were tied up to a wharf at the highest point on the
Lower River.

Just below us the river narrows between steep hills to a mile and a
quarter in width, and through that funnel more than twenty thousand
miles of rivers empty themselves into the “cauldron” which constantly
seethes, bubbles and boils with the rush of water tearing over its
rough, rocky bottom.




                              Chapter III
                       My Overland Journey Begins

The white man’s fetish--I am exchanged with others for rubber and
    ivory--My new companions express freely their opinions about the
    white men--Why the white men are on the Congo--Native suspicions and
    prejudices.


The morning after the steamer arrived all the goods were taken ashore,
put into a huge store, and arranged in their places. Just opposite the
store door was a large image, gaudily coloured and grotesquely ugly. It
was a fetish[6] that the white man had bought of a native “medicine
man,” and had placed it there in the store to frighten the natives and
deter them from stealing. Of course it was no use, for the natives knew
that no “medicine man” would sell a real fetish to the white man,
consequently it did not overawe them, nor keep them from thieving when
they had the opportunity.

Footnote 6:

  See note 5, p. 343.

I had not been in the store many days when the box in which I was packed
was carried out and handed over to some natives who had brought some
tusks of ivory and rubber to the white trader for sale. From what I
heard it had taken them a long time to settle the price; but directly
that had been agreed upon they quickly selected their goods, viz. forty
pieces of assorted cloth, ten barrels of gunpowder, fifteen flintlock
guns, one box of brass rods, two demijohns or large bottles of rum, five
cases of gin, and some common looking-glasses, knives, beads and various
other trinkets.

I was carried, with the other trade goods, to the native
sleeping-quarters, and found my new owners were not tall men, but wiry,
lithe, strong fellows, who, after they had bound us with ropes in long
baskets, commenced their tedious overland journey to their town far in
the interior. Before sunset we had crossed the hills, descended the
valley, and forded by means of a canoe the Mposo river. The boys of the
party collected wood and fetched water, and very soon bright cheerful
fires were blazing, and the camp resounded with much chatter and
laughter.

Most of the talk was about white men and their strange ways. One laughed
at them for having such a silly fetish in their store. “Why, I know,”
said he, “the ‘medicine man’ who made it; and he told me himself that he
had put no strong charms in it, as he was not going to hurt his own
people for any white man; but the foolish white man gave plenty of cloth
and gunpowder for it.”

Another asked if they knew Fomu,[7] a white man who lived in the next
district? “Well, he put a weight under his scale, and cheated us for a
long time; but we found him out, and at first we would not trade with
him again, until some one found a way to punish him for defrauding us.”

Footnote 7:

  Most white men are known to the natives by native names.

“What did you do?” asked another.

“Well,” answered the first, “we procured some bananas and coated them
with rubber, and sold them to him as solid rubber; and it was a long
time before he discovered it, and then we had to cut every lump of
rubber into pieces; but I think we recovered what he stole from us.”
There was a hearty and good-humoured laugh over this playing off of one
trick against another.

Just then an old man with a long plaited beard chimed in: “Yes,” he
said, “I had a friend who lived in a part of the country where, instead
of using brass rods as we do, they use strings of blue pipe beads as
money--a hundred beads on each string. One day my friend sold some ivory
to a trader there, and received some packets of beads as part payment;
but when he arrived home he found that instead of there being one
hundred beads on each string there were only sixty. He was cheated out
of forty beads on every string, and before he could pass them on the
markets he had to make them up to the proper number.

“After that no native would deal with that trader unless he gave two
strings of beads in the place of one, so he lost in trying to cheat us.

“Pish!” exclaimed the old man, “the white men are cheats! They put heavy
pieces of iron under their scales to rob us; they put lumps of stuff in
their measures to rob us; they give beads in short numbers to rob us;
when we work for them they beat us just before our term is finished so
that we may run away without our pay, and when we have carried loads for
them they often pretend we have stolen from them so as to have an excuse
for not paying us.”

The old man had worked himself into a rage as he recalled wrong after
wrong; but his voice was drowned in a burst of laughter that came from a
group sitting round another fire. “What are you laughing at?” he shouted
aggressively.

“Not at you, father,” respectfully answered one of the young men. “We
are laughing at what we heard yesterday: A trader had treated his house
boys, his people, and his customers very badly for some time, so some of
them met together one evening, went to his house, and stripping him of
his clothes, they carried him into the bush, and rubbed him well with
cow-itch, and then let him go. He had a very bad time; but he has been
better to his people since that night.”

There was much snapping of fingers and chuckling over this joke played
on the white man.

“For what purpose does the white man buy rubber and ivory?” asked one of
the boys of the old man with the plaited beard.

“I don’t know,” replied the old man. “When I was a boy we made pestles
and trumpets of the ivory, and drumstick knobs with the rubber; but I
think the white man only buys rubber and ivory to hide the real reason
of his presence in our country.”

“What is that?” asked the lad.

“Well,” said the old man, with a knowing look in his black eyes, “the
white man does not like the work of making cloth, hence they come to
this country to buy up all the bodies of those who die to send to their
country to make cloth for them. They preserve the bodies in their stores
until there is a good opportunity of sending them away in their
steamers; and when these bodies reach Mputu (the white man’s country)
the spirits are forced to return to them by the magic of their great
‘medicine men,’ and then they are compelled to work for them as their
slaves.

“The white men have very strong magic, surpassing the magic of our
people; but if the white men were not here, very few, if any, of our
people would die. Why, a friend of mine told me all about it the other
day. He said: ‘In the sea there is a hole,[8] and the white man goes in
his steamer to this hole and rings a bell, and the water sprites push up
the end of a piece of cloth, and the white man pulls on it one day, two
days, three days, until he has enough cloth, and then he cuts it off and
measures it into pieces, and binds it into the bales, as we see in their
stores. But before he leaves the hole he throws into it some bodies he
has bought in our country.’ Yes, the white men are very wicked, and
don’t you have anything to do with them. Why, all your relatives who
have died are now, perhaps, slaves in Mputu, and some day you may be the
same.”

Footnote 8:

  See note 6, p. 344.

A thrill of horror went through the gaping crowd as the old man in
graphic language and with dramatic gestures told these things. When he
had gained his breath he began again.

“The other day I heard of some exceedingly wicked white men who pretend
to tell people about God, white men who will give you medicine if you
ask for it, and will teach you in a school how to read and write, and
will even take you into their houses and clothe and feed you. Beware of
those white men, for they are only trying to secure you, and you will
soon die and become their slaves in Mputu. The other white men say: ‘We
have come for rubber and ivory,’ and we receive plenty of trade goods
from them in return for our rubbish; but these very wicked ones say: ‘We
have only come to tell you about the great God, and to help you.’ They
are more crafty, cunning and wicked than the others. Keep away from them
always, or you will quickly die!”

By the time the old man had finished there was a large circle of
horror-stricken natives around him, who, with many a cry of rage and
hatred against such evil doings, promised never to go near such wicked
wretches as these white men were, and with many an oath they threatened
they would kill them if ever they had the opportunity.

Soon after this the fires were replenished, and men and boys curled
themselves in their mats and cloths, and went to sleep dreaming of the
cruel wickedness of white men. And all through the night the river went
gliding by to the great Congo and on to the sea to lose itself in the
waters of the Atlantic; and it took no warning to the white men who were
leaving home, friends, and family to tell such as those who slept on its
banks of the great and good God.




                               Chapter IV
                     We reach the Town of my Owner

Crossing the Mpalabala hills--The head man knocks his toes--It is an
    evil omen--He visits the “medicine man”--Finds his brother
    dying--Last hours of the dying chief.


The next morning was dull and damp--a weeping morning, and every one
shivered with the cold as they hastily picked up their loads and
prepared for the steep ascent that would take them over a spur of the
Mpalabala mountains. The road was a narrow track, steep and stony; huge
boulders were often in the path, and had to be climbed over or avoided
by detours, thus making the way difficult and tiring. By ten o’clock the
sun was shining brilliantly on the white stones, making the eyes ache
with their glare and the body perspire with their reflected heat. The
men panted beneath their burdens from the heat, and water was very
scarce.

By midday we had passed the steep and wearisome hills of Mpalabala and
were camped in the valley by a pleasant stream.

Just before arriving at the resting-place the head trader unfortunately
struck his toes against a stone, and, being very superstitious, he was
filled with horror at the evil omen. It was the general subject of
conversation as to what this omen predicted. One thought that a wife of
the head trader was dead; another suggested that his house and goods
were destroyed by fire; and thus they prophesied one evil after another
until Satu--the poor fellow who had struck his toes--could hardly rest
at the midday halt; and he certainly put on a very woebegone appearance,
for he had no doubt some great misfortune had befallen him or was about
to happen to him. This fear so played on his mind that he had disturbed
sleep and bad dreams that night; and often started out of a nightmare
screaming that his sister or his wife was dead, or his house was burnt
to the ground.

The next day a large town was reached, and Satu sought out the “medicine
man” there, who was famous through all the countryside for the wonderful
power of his fetish, and the charms he made from it. Satu told him how
he had struck his toes against a stone, and his fear of the evil omen,
and asked the wizard to avert the evil. Some of his companions
laughed[9] at him for wasting his money over such nonsense, while
others, who were more superstitious, advised him to fee the wizard well,
and thus enlist his power to stave off the threatened mischief.

Footnote 9:

  See note 7, p. 344.

This particular “medicine man” had a charm which was called
_Kimbaji-mbaji_ (meaning, to-morrow), and any person who came under its
protection could not be harmed because he who wanted to hurt him always
put off the carrying out of his evil intentions until to-morrow, and, as
you know, to-morrow never comes. The special charm used by this wizard
was a shell full of various herbs which had been pounded, mixed and
rammed into it.

The troubled man took a fowl to the wizard, who killed it and poured
some of its blood into the shell, which he then placed on the ground,
surrounding it with eight little heaps of gunpowder. After dancing about
them for a short time, and chanting an incantation over them, he
exploded the powder and blew his whistle vigorously. These ceremonies
aroused the charm to work effectively in the postponement of the evil
spells that were being used against the man. The wizard received twenty
brass rods as his fee; and Satu went on his journey satisfied that the
omen could not now work against him.

Satu, however, found on his arrival home that the wizard’s power was
ineffectual in his case, for his brother, the chief of the town, was
very ill and nigh unto death. Hence their arrival, instead of being
acclaimed with the loud shouting of women and children, and the firing
of many guns, was greeted with the solemn headshakes of the men, the
crying of the women, and the beating of drums by the “medicine men.”

The patient was apparently so bad that as a last resort they had called
all the “medicine men” of the district together in the hope that their
combined force would rescue the man from the malignant influence of the
evil spirit--the _ndoki_ that was killing him. All night long they had
been drumming, shouting, beating gongs, and parading about the town
calling on the evil spirit to desist, but without avail, for the chief
was now dying, and Satu had only just arrived in time to receive his
brother’s last wishes about his property and the names of those who owed
him money, and slaves.

All the goods brought from the coast were piled in the chief’s house so
that he might gloat with dying eyes on his increased wealth, and curse
in strong, passionate language the _ndoki_ who was causing his death.

From my fortunate spy-hole I could with ease view the weird scene. It
was a small hut built of grass and sticks tied neatly and securely
together. There were two doors, but no windows, and the smoke escaped as
best it could through crevices in the walls and roof.

In the far corner, lighted by the flickering flame of the wood fire, was
the chief, lying on a bamboo bed covered with a papyrus mat, and
squatting on the floor were numerous women--the hut was crowded with
them--loudly talking, and freely giving their advice on the best way of
curing the patient. Some suggested one particular charm, others argued
in favour of certain rites and ceremonies; but all were angry with the
witch (_ndoki_) who was regarded as the cause of all the mischief; and
they were unanimous in their demand that the witch should be discovered,
tried by the ordeal, and killed.

In the early hours of the morning the chief died. The female members of
his family, old and young, set up a howl of rage and grief--rage because
the witch had killed their chief, grief because their relative was dead.
The men fired off their guns to frighten away evil spirits, to give
expression to their sorrow, and to inform the spirits in the great,
mysterious forest town, whence all the souls of the dead go, that a
great man was coming to join them.

Upon Satu rested the responsibility of the funeral, and every detail had
to be scrupulously observed, or the spirit of the deceased would trouble
them as a family, and perhaps cause their extinction.




                               Chapter V
                             A Funeral Orgy

Satu becomes chief--Preparations for the funeral feast--My box is
    opened--I become a neck ornament--Bakula, my new owner, is smart,
    but superstitious--The mourners assemble and present their
    gifts--The toilet before eating--Drunkenness and quarrelling--Corpse
    is carried to the grave--A white man wants to steal the ivory
    trumpets--He is shaved and sent about his business.


As the deceased chief was a very great man it was necessary to postpone
his burial for a month or two until fitting arrangements for a grand
funeral could be conveniently made, otherwise his spirit would not be
satisfied, and trouble would follow.[10] Moreover, if the chief had been
hurriedly buried like an ordinary man, the whole countryside would have
accused the family of meanness and selfishness in wanting to keep the
dead man’s wealth for themselves. Therefore the body was dried, wrapped
in a cloth and placed in a hut built for the purpose.

Footnote 10:

  See note 8, p. 345.

Satu sent to all the markets day after day for miles round, buying up
every goat, sheep and pig that was offered for sale. Having collected a
large number of animals he then began to send out invitations to the
funeral ceremonies. It was decided that on the eighth _nkandu_[11]
market day the rites should begin. All messengers sent to chiefs with an
invitation had to take with them one or two goats, according to the
chief’s importance, “to feed them and their followers on the journey” to
the mourning town.

Footnote 11:

  See note 9, p. 345.

At the commencement of these preparations my box, in which I had
travelled so far, was opened, and I should have been sent with many
other brass rods to the markets in exchange for goats or pigs; but a lad
took a fancy to me, and begged to give an old brass rod in my place. My
new master, whose name was Bakula, turned over my two ends, and, hooking
them together, he wore me round his neck as an ornament, and as he
polished me brightly every day I was well able to see all that happened
about me.

My new owner was a free-born lad of high spirits, alertness and agility,
quick at all games, successful in all kinds of sports; but like many of
his seniors, held the women and girls in great contempt except when he
wanted a favour, and then he could cajole and flatter them until their
eyes sparkled with pleasure and they became his slaves. He was, however,
very superstitious, had many charms tied about his person, and regarded
the “medicine men” with great awe and admiration. Bakula quite believed
that his success in hunting, his smartness at games, and his general
good fortune were entirely due to his charms and the regularity with
which he made sacrifices to them.

The appointed day for the funeral was drawing nigh, so the preparations
were pushed on apace. Large quantities of cassava flour[12] were
prepared and an immense number of _kwanga_[13] loaves were bought at the
different markets, and demijohns and calabashes of palm-wine were
ordered for the three days’ feasting that were to precede the interment.

Footnote 12:

  See note 10, p. 345.

Footnote 13:

  See note 11, p. 345.

The eventful day at last dawned, and during the morning and early
afternoon chiefs with retinues of wives, followers and slaves were
constantly arriving. They came from all quarters and entered the town by
all the roads leading to it. Bakula seemed to be ubiquitous, for he
greeted most of the chiefs as they entered the town, and led them to
where Satu was sitting in state to receive his guests. Those of humble
origin knelt before Satu and paid homage to him; those of exalted
position received homage from him; and those who were his equals sat
down on a mat, and solemnly, they and Satu, clapped their hands at each
other.

Every chief, head man, and invited guest brought a gift of cloth “to
wind round the corpse,” and as soon as the salutations were over the
cloth was presented, piece by piece, to Satu. The present was supposed
to be in proportion to the giver’s social position. A chief who on
account of his importance had received two goats with his invitation
would be expected to give three times the value of the goats in cloth,
and if he fell short of this he was considered mean; but if he went
beyond it he was regarded as a generous, wealthy man, and his name would
be in the mouths of all the mourners, and he could strut about puffed
out with pride.

This cloth, though given ostensibly “to wind round the dead chief,” was
really used to defray the expenses of the feast; and happy was the
family which had no crushing debt left at the close of such festivities.
Satu carefully noted the value of every gift, and although he could not
write, yet at the close of the day he could have told from his
well-trained memory the number and quality of every piece of cloth given
by any chief.

Nearly three hundred people had gathered to the funeral, either by
direct invitation, or in attendance on their husbands, their chiefs, or
their masters. It was just at the beginning of the dry season,
consequently all the cooking and eating was done in the open streets;
and those who could not find a house in which to sleep considered it no
hardship to spread their mats and sleep in front of the houses.

Soon after sunset the ordinary folk gathered round the fires watching
the women cooking, while the chiefs and head men sat in groups gravely
talking local politics or loudly boasting of their prowess in bygone
hunts and fights. No cloths were laid for the feast, and no tables were
set and decorated. Everything was in primitive style. Their fingers were
all the cutlery they possessed, and their loin-cloths were substitutes
for serviettes.

Just before the food was served boys and girls went round with
calabashes of water, and each guest took a large mouthful, with which he
washed his hands, mouth and teeth in the following manner: Having taken
a large mouthful of water, the operator ejected some of it from his
mouth in a gentle stream on to his hands, which he washed quickly and
vigorously. With the remainder of the water he cleaned his teeth by
putting the index finger of his right and left hand alternately into his
mouth and rubbing them; then, throwing the residue of the water about in
his mouth to rinse it, he spat it out. Lastly, drying his hands on his
loin-cloth or on a bark cloth, he completed his toilet preparations for
dinner.

It was an amusing sight to see scores of men sitting on their haunches
and gravely squirting water on their hands. The puffed cheeks, filled
with water; the intent looks, and the care shown to aim the jets of
water straight so as not to waste any, made a humorous picture on my
mind. How simple and how effectual was the operation! I found that this
habit of washing hands, teeth and mouth not only preceded each principal
meal, but was also repeated after the meal, and largely accounts for the
beautiful, healthy teeth possessed by the natives.

By now the food was cooked, and the women were turning it out into every
kind of receptacle they could find--wooden dishes, tin plates, baskets,
saucepans and washhand basins were all requisitioned. The guests broke
up into groups of from six to ten persons; and each group received a
large vessel of smoking vegetables, and another of steaming meat and
gravy.

At once the fingers were dipped in, and he who could bolt his food the
quickest got the largest share of what was going.[14] Vessel after
vessel was emptied, and stomachs visibly distended in the process; but
at last operations became slower and died away in grunts of
satisfaction.

Footnote 14:

  See note 12, p. 346.

I noticed that the men and boys ate by themselves, and the women and
girls by themselves. In fact, it was considered beneath his dignity for
a man to eat with a woman; and boys of ten would receive their portion
from their mothers and go and eat it with the men. As a rule the women
had what was left by the men, or what they could successfully hide from
them. During meals little or nothing was said, as each diner thought
eating was more important than talking.

At the close of the feast the old men sat in groups talking and drinking
palm-wine. Now and again voices were raised in angry quarrels; for as
wine entered, prudence retreated; grievances and jealousies were
remembered, revived and wrangled over again, and some of them had to be
forcibly restrained from fighting.

The younger men and women, hearing the drums resounding with their
rhythmical beating, went off to dance in the moonlight, and the drinking
and dancing continued far into the night; pandemonium reigned, law and
order were forgotten, and the stars looked down that night on a town
that had changed into a pig-sty.

These orgies lasted three nights. Through the day the men lounged about,
sleeping in the shade; the women did no work, but simply gathered
firewood and water for cooking the evening feasts. During the day no
regular meals were taken, but the folk ate bananas, or roasted plantain,
or a few peanuts, or stayed their hunger on sugar-canes--all, by
fasting, were preparing for the night’s feasting.

On the evening of the fourth day, just at sunset, the corpse was carried
to the grave for burial. The bearers took it first round the town, and
pretended that the corpse was reluctant to leave the town so they had to
struggle with it to the burial place, and there they buried it with its
feet to the setting sun, and its head towards the east.

As the corpse was carried by the houses of the principal men they came
out to greet it, and fire their guns in a parting salute to their late
chief; and after that farewell from the town the funeral guns were
loaded and fired in quick succession to inform the spirits in the great,
mysterious forest town that an important man was coming.

The Lower Congo natives always buried at sunset for this reason: During
the daytime their own towns are deserted, because the women and girls go
to the farms and do not return until the afternoon; and the men and boys
go to hunt or fish, or work in the forest, or trade on the markets, and
do not return until the evening. Hence the old, the sick and the
children only are left in the town; consequently any one arriving during
that time would find few, if any, to greet them; but if the traveller
reaches a town between five and six o’clock the folk will have returned
from their various occupations, and at every step he will be greeted by
the people. They think that the great forest town of spirits is
conducted in the same way, and to ensure a welcome to the deceased they
bury him just before sunset with much firing of guns, blowing of ivory
trumpets, and beating of their drums.

Just as the burial rites were completed a white man, a State officer,
arrived. He was greeted, and a house was cleared out, swept and given to
him for the night. The white man walked freely about the town that
evening and enjoyed the hospitality of the people. He watched the
dances, listened to the native band composed of ivory trumpets and
various drums, and was free to go and come as he pleased. In the morning
he repaid their hospitality by demanding the ivory trumpets from them.

This unreasonable request the natives refused to obey; a fracas ensued
followed by a scuffle, during which the officer was securely tied.

One party of the natives wanted to kill him and pour his blood on the
grave of their buried chief; but another, and stronger, party resisted
this extremity, wishing only to punish him for trying to enforce an
unjust demand. Finally it was decided to shave the man’s head, beard,
moustache and eyebrows and send him off.

When the officer’s head and face had been reduced to the smoothness of a
billiard ball--native shaving is not a gentle process--he was allowed to
proceed on his way a sadder, and, perhaps, a wiser man. I heard that
ever after that encounter with the natives he heartily and thoroughly
abused them to his compatriots, but he carefully left out of the account
his attempt to steal their ivory trumpets.

The Congos have a proverb that runs thus: In a court of fowls the
cockroach never wins his case; _i. e._ the verdict of one race against
another is to be received with caution.




                               Chapter VI
                             Our Town Life

Streets are irregular--Houses small and draughty--Their reception,
    dining, and drawing rooms are in the open air--Their many charms and
    fetishes--Routine of the day--Bakula tells a story: “How the Sparrow
    set the Elephant and the Crocodile to pull against each
    other”--Tumbu, a slave, relates the tale of “The Four Fools”--And
    Bakula tells: “How the Squirrel won a Verdict for the Gazelle.”


As soon as the funeral festivities were over, our many visitors returned
to their towns and villages, and I soon became interested in the normal
life of the natives. Our town was not very large, and its houses were
not in regular streets. A person would build to suit his own
convenience, and in walking from one side of the town to the other you
were obliged to wind in and out among the houses. As a rule there was
plenty of space between the huts, but here and there they were crowded
together and surrounded by grass fences. These enclosed places belonged
to the chief and his head men.

The houses were built with grass walls and roofs, all the work being
very neatly done. When new they were rain-proof, but very draughty. The
walls were only four feet six inches high, and the ridge-pole was about
seven feet above the ground. The people cooked their food, ate it, and
sat outside their houses. In the open air they held their receptions,
their social meetings, their palavers, their courts of justice, and
every other town and domestic function. The houses were simply for
sleeping, for storing their goods, and for sitting in on cold, windy,
stormy days. There was no privacy about the native manner of living, but
everybody knew everything about everybody else, and a little more
besides.

A great number of charms and fetishes were to be found in the town, and
it seemed as though they had a charm for every imaginable circumstance
of life. One man possessed a charm to protect his goods, and another had
a charm to help him steal successfully; one owned a charm to bring him
good luck in trading, and another wore a charm to aid him in cheating on
the markets the folk with whom he traded. One man whom I saw had a charm
to render him invisible that he might, unseen, hear conversations, and
enter forbidden places to his own advantage; and many had bought charms
to keep evil spirits from jumping down their throats.

My owner, Bakula, wore many charms about his person. One maintained him
in good health, another helped him in hunting, a third made him a
favourite with the women and girls, and a fourth brought him good luck
in his trading transactions with the other folk in the town. On the
appearance of every new moon, Bakula would at sunset catch a chicken,
and, cutting its toe, drop a little blood on each of his charms to keep
them in good humour, or otherwise they would not act on his behalf.

Every morning soon after sunrise the women and girls went to work on the
farms, carrying with them their hoes, baskets and babies; and then the
men and boys went to the bush and forests to hunt for game, to tap the
palm-trees for wine, or to gather materials for house building and
repairing. Others went to the markets with their pigs, goats, fowls,
saucepans, native woven cloth, or any other article they had for sale,
or desired to exchange for some needed goods.

Towards the middle of the afternoon the women and girls returned laden
with food, firewood and water, and at once set about the preparations
for the evening meal--the principal one of the day. Then later came the
men and boys firing guns in their jubilation, if they had been
successful in the hunt, and the female population would rush out
shouting vociferously their congratulations to the hunters, and passing
remarks on the bush pig or antelope being carried into the town
ignominiously on a pole between two or more bearers. The other men
arrived from the markets with the results of the day’s trading, or from
the forests with the building materials they had collected.

At five o’clock the inhabitants would all be back, and the town would be
very lively--the children laughing and playing at their various games;
the men lounging about reciting, with more or less boasting inaccuracy,
their doings during the day, and awaiting with keen appetites the
evening meal. Over all the noises of the village would be heard the
angry voices of the women quarrelling; but as such disturbances were of
daily occurrence among the women, very few took any notice of them,
except to put in an occasional word to incite the women to greater
efforts with their tongues.

Soon after sundown the food was ready, and the women turning it out into
baskets and wooden platters, carried it to their husbands, hiding a
portion for themselves. If you, my reader, had walked through the town
then you would have seen the head of each family, together with his
sons, male visitors, and friends, sitting around the vessels containing
their food, helping themselves with their fingers, their hands and
mouths having already been washed. At some little distance the women and
girls would be eating their portions, for they were regarded as inferior
creatures, entirely unfit to eat with the men, so they ate in a
half-shamefaced, apologetic fashion out of sight of their lords and
masters.

As you stood looking at them one of the boys would ask you to have a
piece of his pudding, and if you accepted the invitation and took a
piece you would find it stick to your teeth like toffee.

“Ah!” the lad would laughingly say, “that is not the way to eat our
pudding (_luku_).[15] This is the proper way.” And he would pull off a
piece, roll it in his fingers, dip it in some soup, and opening his
mouth let it roll down his throat without any chewing; afterwards
remarking, with a twinkle in his eye: “You white boys may be very
clever, but you certainly do not know how to eat pudding.”

Footnote 15:

  See note 13, p. 346.

It was quite dark by the time the meal was finished, and the numerous
fires flared and flickered before the houses, lending an air of
cheerfulness to the scene. The elders gathered around the fire in front
of the chief’s house, and discussed the politics of the day with much
earnestness and eloquence. The lads were allowed to stand silently
around, listening; and while my owner, Bakula, was there, a pompous man
made a long, wearisome speech, in which he showed that he thought more
of himself than his hearers thought of him.

The speech was full of bombastic platitudes and boastful words, so the
chief at last pointed at him, saying: “Here is a little fowl trying to
lay a big egg.” Such was the effect of this proverb that the pompous man
collapsed, whilst his audience chuckled and shook their sides with
laughter. And amid the laughter Bakula ran off, and we soon joined a
group of young folk who were telling stories round the fire.

Bakula was received with shouts of delight, for he was a merry lad, and
appeared to have among them the reputation for telling good stories.
Hence he was soon called upon for one, and in a lively, pleasant manner,
and with much dramatic force, he gave them the following account of

  “How the Sparrow set the Elephant and the Crocodile to pull against
      each other.”

“While the elephant was searching for food one day he happened to pass
near a sparrow’s nest, and accidentally knocking against the branch,
nearly threw the eggs to the ground. The sparrow thereupon said to the
elephant--

“‘You walk very proudly, and not looking where you are going, you nearly
upset my nest. If you come this way again I will tie you up.’

“‘Truly you are a little bird,’ the elephant laughingly replied, ‘and
are you able to tie up me--an elephant?’ ‘Indeed,’ the sparrow answered
him, ‘if you come this way to-morrow, I will bind you.’

“‘All right,’ said the elephant, ‘I will now pass on, and will come back
here to-morrow to look upon the strength of a sparrow.’ So the elephant
went his way and the sparrow flew off to bathe in a neighbouring river.

“On reaching the river and finding a crocodile asleep at her favourite
bathing-place, the sparrow said: ‘Wake up! this is my bathing-place, and
if you come here again I will tie you up.’

“‘Can a little sparrow like you tie up a crocodile?’ the crocodile asked
her.

“‘It is true what I tell you,’ retorted the sparrow, ‘and if you return
here to-morrow I will fasten you up.’

“‘Very well,’ replied the crocodile, ‘I will come to-morrow to see what
you can do.’ And with that the crocodile floated away, and the sparrow
returned to her nest.

“The next day the sparrow, seeing the elephant coming, said to him:
‘Yesterday I told you not to come this way again, because you endangered
my nest. Now I will tie you, as I warned you.’

“‘All right,’ said the elephant, ‘I want to see what a little thing like
you can do.’

“The sparrow then brought a strong vine rope, put it round the neck of
the elephant, and said to him: ‘Wait a moment while I go and have a
drink of water, and then you will see how strong I am.’ To which the
elephant replied: ‘Go and drink plenty of water, for to-day I want to
see what a sparrow can do.’ So the sparrow went and found the crocodile
basking in the sun on the river’s bank.

“‘Oh! you are here again,’ she said, ‘I will tie you up as I warned you
yesterday, because you do not listen to what you are told.’ ‘Very well,’
sneered the crocodile, ‘come and tie me up and I will see what strength
you have.’

“The sparrow took the end of the rope and tied it round the crocodile,
and said: ‘Wait a moment, I will go a little higher up the hill and
pull.’ So away she flew up the hill on to a tree, and from there she
called out: ‘Pull elephant, pull crocodile. It is I, the sparrow.’ So
the elephant pulled and the crocodile pulled, and each thought he was
pulling against the sparrow; not knowing they were pulling against each
other. All the day long they pulled, until the evening, but neither
out-pulled the other. And during the whole day the sparrow was crying
out: ‘Pull, elephant, you have the strength; pull harder, elephant.’ And
in the same way she addressed the crocodile.

“At last the crocodile said: ‘Friend sparrow, I cannot pull any more,
come and unfasten me, and I will never come to your bathing-place
again.’ ‘Wait a little while,’ said the sparrow, ‘I am going up to my
village.’ And the elephant said, as she drew near: ‘Now I know you are
very strong. Please come and undo me, and I will never come again to
shake your nest.’ So the sparrow loosened the elephant and then went and
removed the rope from the crocodile’s neck; and from that time the
sparrow has never been troubled by either the elephant or the
crocodile.”

At the close of this story there were many comments on the ’cuteness of
the sparrow, and some sage remarks. One little fellow said that,
although the sparrow was small, she had more wit and sense than either
the big crocodile or the bigger elephant. Therefore we should not
despise people because they are small.

They begged Bakula to tell them another story; but he said he could not
remember another just then. They, however, pleaded with him, and at last
he said: “If Tumbu will now tell one of his stories, I will try and
recall one of mine by the time he has finished.” Tumbu, who was sitting
at the back, was pushed forward to a place in the centre, near the fire;
and as the light from the fire fell on him, it revealed a sad face lit
with large, intelligent, but pathetic, eyes.

I knew the boy and his sad story. He was a slave who, in a time of
famine in his district a few years ago, had been sold by his parents for
a few roots of cassava, and he was forced from his mother, his village
acquaintances, and brought to this strange town. The boys and girls
twitted him with being a slave, and to make matters worse they taunted
him with the miserable price that had been paid for him.

His sensitive spirit brooded in his loneliness over the insults poured
upon him, and the marks of his deep sorrows were seen on his sad face.
He shrank from the gaze of the many eyes that were now fixed upon him;
but Bakula had been kind to him, and had often defended him, and he was
ready to bear anything for his hero. Therefore in a glad, shy manner he
related the following adventure, called

                     “The Story of the Four Fools.”

“A wizard out walking one day met a boy crying bitterly. He asked him
the reason of his tears, and the boy said: ‘I have lost my father’s
parrot, and if you can find it I will pay you well.’ So the wizard
called a hunter, a carpenter, and a thief, and told them about the loss
and the reward, and they decided to search for the parrot.

“‘Before starting let us show our skill,’ said one of the four. ‘You,
thief, go and steal an egg from that fowl without its knowledge.’ The
thief went and stole the egg, and the fowl did not move. The hunter put
up the egg as a mark, went a long distance off and proved his skill by
hitting the egg. After which the carpenter showed his cleverness by
putting the egg together again. Then they turned to the wizard for him
to give a proof of his smartness, and after a little time he said: ‘The
parrot has been stolen by the people in that vessel.’

“All four entered their glass ship[16] and after a time caught up to the
vessel. The thief went on board, and waved his charm, then he took the
parrot, laid the table, and had a good feast; and when he had finished
eating he picked up the parrot and returned to his glass ship.

Footnote 16:

  See note 14, p. 346.

“When the people in the vessel found the parrot gone, they gave chase to
the glass ship. The captain of the vessel sent down the rain and it
broke the glass ship, but the carpenter mended it, and the hunter fired
at the rain and killed it. The captain sent the lightning and it broke
the ship, but the carpenter mended it again, and the hunter fired at the
lightning and killed it. So they eventually reached the land and took
the parrot to the chief’s son, and said: ‘Here is your father’s parrot.’

“The lad was so glad to receive it that he told them to select what they
liked from his wealth, ‘even to the wonderful fowl which lays beads, or
anything else you desire.’[17] They chose the fowl and went their way,
but they had not gone very far before the wizard said: ‘It is my fowl,
for I told you where the parrot was.’ The thief said: ‘No, it is mine,
for I stole the parrot from the vessel.’ And the carpenter also claimed
it, as he had twice mended the broken ship. Moreover, the hunter said:
‘Of course it is mine, for I killed the rain and the lightning.’ Thus
they argued long and angrily, and as they could not agree, they at last
did a thing that was amazingly stupid. They killed the wonderful fowl,
and divided it into four pieces, each taking his share. Now who out of
these four foolish ones should have had the fowl?”

Footnote 17:

  See note 15, p. 346.

This story excited a great amount of discussion. Some argued that this
one should have had the fowl, and others argued with much gesticulation
that another should have taken the fowl. Each character had his
supporters; but all agreed that they were four fools not to let the fowl
lay plenty of beads and share them.

Bakula was now asked again to give his promised story; and he told
them--

        “How the Squirrel won a Verdict for the Gazelle.”

“When the leopard and the gazelle were living in the same town each of
them bought a goat--the leopard a male and the gazelle a female. One
night the gazelle’s goat gave birth to two kids, and the leopard, being
very greedy, went and stole the two kids from the gazelle’s goat and put
them with his own goat.

“In the morning the leopard called the gazelle and said to him: ‘My goat
has given birth to two kids.’ The gazelle was very much surprised at
hearing this, as male goats do not have kids, and he told the leopard
so; but the leopard said: ‘All right, you don’t believe me. We will call
the judges and hear what they say.’ So they carried the case to the
court of animals, who acted as judges, and they said: ‘The kids belong
to the leopard’s goat.’ For they were very much afraid of the leopard,
and thought that if they gave the verdict against him he would kill
them.

“The gazelle went and told the squirrel all his troubles and how he was
cheated out of his kids. ‘To-morrow morning,’ said the squirrel, ‘put a
rope across your town for me to run on.’ So the next morning the gazelle
put a rope right by the leopard’s house and courtyard, which were full
of the folk who had judged the case in favour of the leopard. And by and
by the squirrel came running along the rope at a great rate.

“‘Where are you going so quickly,’ asked the leopard, ‘that you cannot
rest a little?’ ‘I am in a hurry to fetch my mother,’ said the squirrel,
‘for my father has just given birth to twins.’

“‘Ah! ah!’ laughed the leopard; ‘can a man give birth to a child?’

“‘Can a male goat give birth to kids?’ retorted the squirrel. Whereat
the leopard was so angry and felt so much ashamed of himself, that he
went right away from the town and never returned, for fear of the
animals laughing at him. And the gazelle carried the kids back to his
own goat.”

When this story ended appreciative remarks were made on the wit of the
squirrel, and contempt was poured on the clumsy leopard who so foolishly
threw away the verdict given in his favour.

By this time the moon, full and beautiful, was riding high in the sky,
flooding the village with its soft, silvery light, so Bakula proposed a
dance.

Up jumped the boys and girls from the different fires; drums were
carried out to an open space, seed rattles were tied round the ankles
and wrists of some of the dancers, and very soon the rhythmic tap, tap
of the drums were heard and answered by the clap, clap of the dancers’
hands as they formed two lines--one of girls, and the other of lads, and
began a dance that only ended in the early morning, and when the
performers were thoroughly exhausted with their exertions.




                              Chapter VII
                        The Search for the Witch

People believe their chief died by witchcraft--They send for the
    witch-finder--His arrival and antics--The ceremony of discovering
    the witch--Satu’s brother, Mavakala, is accused--Why was Mavakala
    accused?--He takes the ordeal--Proves his innocence--Other tests are
    forced on him--He is done to death.


During the illness of the deceased chief there was a widespread feeling
in the town that some one was bewitching him, and that therefore the
“medicine men” were unable to cure him. At last one of their wizards
stated plainly that a witch was at work destroying their best efforts;
and although they tried charms to ward off, and threats to frighten, the
witch from pursuing his (or her) wicked purpose, yet their patient
continued to grow worse, and at last died. And now that their chief was
buried the people demanded that a proper witch-finder should be engaged
to seek out the witch.

A great witch-finder was called from a distant town, and on his arrival
I noticed that he was a small, active man with keen piercing eyes that
seemed to jump from face to face and read the very thoughts of those who
stood around.

He was dressed in the soft skins of monkeys and bush-cats; around his
neck was a necklace of rats’ teeth mixed with the teeth of crocodiles
and leopards. His body was decorated with pigments of different colours;
thick circles of white surrounded the eyes, a patch of red ran across
the forehead, broad stripes of yellow chased each other down the cheeks,
bands of red and yellow went up the arms and across the chest, and spots
of blue promiscuously filled in the vacant spaces. At the different
points of his curious dress were bells that tinkled at every movement.
The boys looked at him in deep awe, the girls and women cowered away
from him, and the men, though they feared him, greeted him with a
simulated friendliness that ill-accorded with their nervousness.

The witch-finder (or _N gang’ a N gombo_) was supposed to find his own
way to the town and home of his client; for how could they believe in a
man’s occult power to discover a witch if he had not the ability to walk
straight, without being shown, to the house of his employer.

To meet this difficulty the witch-finder had one or two apprentices,
among whose duties it was to question cautiously the messenger, and to
obtain from him all the needed information about the town, house,
circumstances attending the death of the person, and the relations of
the townspeople to one another. If the messenger would not, or could
not, give the required knowledge, then the assistant accompanied him
back to his town, and, as he went, he dropped at the cross-roads twigs
or leaves to guide his master--the witch-finder--right up to the house
of his client.

The assistant ferreted out the quarrels of the family employing his
master, and their animosities towards each other, or towards one of
their number. In every family there is to be found at least one who is
the object of the suspicion, jealousy or hatred of the family--the
unpopular member; and all the information thus gathered is secretly told
to the witch-finder and the disliked person pointed out to him.

On the appointed day a great crowd gathered. No member of the clan was
absent, except those on trading expeditions. The assembled people formed
a great circle, into the middle of which the witch-finder danced and
chanted to the beat of the drums. It was a hot day and the sun poured
down its scorching rays on the performer, making him perspire so
profusely that the various colours on his face and body ran into each
other, adding grotesqueness to his ugliness.

As he pranced and danced up and down the circle he put question after
question, and was answered by the people with _ndungu_,[18] or
_otuama_,[19] as he guessed wrongly or rightly about the dead man’s
ways.

Footnote 18:

  See note 16, p. 347.

Footnote 19:

  See note 17, p. 347.

Presently he elicited the fact that the deceased had had a very bad
quarrel with some one, and then he discovered that it was with a man in
the town. By crafty questions the witch-doctor narrowed the circle of
examination, the people, all excitement, really helping him though quite
unaware that they did so; and at last, in a fandango of whirling skins
and rotating arms and legs, he brought himself to a standstill in front
of one of the men, and accused him of being the person who had bewitched
the late chief to death.

It was the unpopular man, Satu’s brother, who was thus publicly declared
the witch, and the whole crowd was astonished that they had never
thought of him before as the monster who used witchcraft to do his own
brother to death.

Immediately on the declaration there was a tremendous hubbub of voices;
insults were heaped on the accused, he was jostled about, weapons were
raised threateningly, and each tried to outvie his neighbour in abusing
the denounced man as a proof of his own guiltlessness.

Amidst the _mêlée_ the accused protested his own innocence, and
demanding to take the ordeal, he ran for his gun[20] to shoot the
witch-finder who had, by his false accusation, brought all this trouble
on him. But the crafty _nganga_ had received his large fee, and was
already well on his way back to his own town. None doubted the _bona
fides_ of the _nganga_ except Mavakala, the accused man; and how could
he prove his guiltlessness except by voluntarily taking the ordeal.

What had Mavakala done to draw such an accusation upon himself? On his
brother’s death he had cried as long and as loudly as any of them; he
had neglected his person, worn old clothes, dressed his hair in mourning
fashion, gone unwashed, and had carefully observed all the usual
ceremonies of “crying” for a near relative, and yet they charged him
with bewitching his brother to death. Yes, all his neighbours recalled
these facts, but they interpreted them now in the light of this serious
charge. Of course, he had observed all these rites simply to deceive
them. He must have thought them fools to be duped by his proofs and
protestations. No, he must take the ordeal, and that quickly, and the
ordeal-giver must be sent for immediately. The whole of Mavakala’s
family was alienated from him, for was he not accused of the most
heinous crime of which a human being can be guilty--witchcraft?

Footnote 20:

  See note 18, p. 347.

What had Mavakala done to render himself so fatally unpopular? That
evening the declaration of the witch-finder was discussed round all the
fires, and as Bakula went from group to group I picked up many items of
the indictment.

Mavakala was an energetic, successful trader, and from each trading
journey he came back the richer for his enterprise. They were jealous of
his wealth; but among themselves they whispered that his increased
riches were really due to witchcraft and not to his ability; and were
not their suspicions justified, for was he not now accused of selling
his brother’s corpse to the white traders?

I heard, too, that Mavakala was a skilled blacksmith, and had made good
knives out of odd pieces of hoop iron taken from old cases, and bought,
by him, from traders on the river; and had even made hoes and axes out
of old bale iron. Many other clever things he had done, all of which
were now by these superstitious people accepted as proofs of his
witchcraft. He had awakened their jealousy by his energy and smartness
in business; his skill and ingenuity in smithing had aroused their
suspicions, and his prosperity had provoked their hatred. In any other
country his ability would have been admired and honoured, but on the
Congo it was a sign of witchcraft, and always ended in death by the
ordeal.

It was then I understood the reason for the backwardness of these
people. They destroy their leaders and their best men, and the only hope
of the people is deliverance from the curse of the witch-doctors.

The next day the ordeal-giver (or _ngol’a nkasa_) arrived, bringing with
him the ordeal bark which he had procured from the nkasa tree in the
following manner. This tree is supposed to have a spirit; hence, when
they are about to cut some of its bark for ordeal purposes, they address
it in these words: “I come to take a piece of your bark, and if the man
for whom it is intended is a witch, let my machet bend when I strike
you; but if he is not a witch, let my machet enter into you, and let the
wind stop blowing.” The machet had bent under the blow, and the omen
being against Mavakala the ordeal-giver made his preparations with smug
satisfaction.

Mavakala, accompanied by many of the men and lads of the town, was led
to the bare top of a neighbouring hill, where a rough shanty of palm
fronds was built. The accused was pushed into this, and told to stretch
out his arms, and not to touch anything. The ordeal-giver pushed a stone
towards the poor wretch, with twenty-seven pieces of nkasa bark on it;
and then he ground each piece of bark and slowly fed Mavakala with the
powders.

During the process the accused man vomited three times, and should
therefore have been set free and carried back to the town with shouts of
honour; but was not the omen against him? and besides, was he not
obnoxious to his jealous and superstitious neighbours?

Consequently, when the ordeal-giver proposed that further tests should
be applied, there were none to lift up their voices in protest against
the injustice of continuing the cruelty.

Mavakala was dazed with the narcotic effects of the drug that had been
forced on him, and his wits were dulled and muddled. He was taken with
rough hands from the temporary hut and made to stand by himself, a
swaying, lonely, pathetic figure--a type of all those who have been
persecuted or have laid down their lives for the sole crime of being in
the vanguard of their generation.

While Mavakala stood swaying there, six twigs in rapid succession were
thrown at his feet, and he as quickly had to name the trees to which
they belonged. This he did successfully, and then he was told to name
the birds and butterflies that were sailing by. Again he unerringly gave
each its proper name; but now, just when he wanted his eyes to be at
their keenest, he could feel them becoming blurred with the dregs of the
drug he had been forced to take. His tormentors called on him to name
the ants crawling at his feet. He faltered, stammered confusedly, and in
stooping, that his poor, hazy eyes might have a better chance to
recognize them, he fell, with a moaning cry, to the ground.

In an instant the heartless, superstitious crowd was on him; sticks and
machets, knives and guns, soon did their work on the poor mangled body.
None was too poor or mean to kick his carcass and spit in his face, and
his bruised, gory corpse was left unburied upon the bare hill-top--a
feast for the beasts of the forests and the birds of the air.

By and by the stars peeped out, half ashamed to look on a world where
such tragedies were enacted, and as they looked they saw that _thing_
there upon the bare hill-top. It was covered with wounds, and every
wound had a tongue that cried to its God, and to their God: “How long,
how long, shall darkness cover the land, and gross darkness the people?”




                              Chapter VIII
                            Visitors Arrive

The dulness and pettiness of native life--Arrival of two
    visitors--Bakula questions them about the white man--They relate the
    little they know about him--Old Plaited-Beard stirs the people up
    against the white man--They exchange their views about him--They
    agree to oppose him--The white man is seen approaching--He is driven
    from the town and has to sleep in the bush.


The excitement of the funeral festivities, and of the hunt for and
murder of the witch had passed away, leaving a deadly dulness on the
town. The men suspiciously snarled at one another, and the women
quarrelled with monotonous regularity. Their lives were petty, mean, and
there was not enough dignity in a whole village to supply one man. For
generations they had lived on a low level, with their eyes, thoughts,
and hearts on the ground, and apparently the art of looking into the
infinite spaces of God above and around them had been lost in their
animalism.

Daily the women went to the farms, or to the markets to barter their
produce; and the men went to the forests, to the markets, or to the
hunt.

[Illustration: THE BEGINNING OF THE SCHOOL AT NKABA.]

But one evening the town was set agog with the news that a white man was
visiting the various villages, and would soon arrive in their town. The
men who brought this news had much to tell about the coming visitor, for
he had spent two or three days in their village. They were the “lions”
of the evening, and their only regret was that they had not larger
stomachs to accept comfortably all the invitations to the evening meals
that poured in on them.

The visitors had come to transact business with the chief; consequently
Satu’s fire was the centre that evening of a large and interested
gathering. Men and lads crowded near the chief and visitors, while the
women and girls hovered about the outskirts of the circle picking up
such scraps of information as filtered through to them.

My owner, Bakula, was there, and put the first question, or rather
series of questions: Who is this white man? What is he like? Where does
he come from? What is he doing in this country? And Bakula stopped not
because his curiosity was exhausted, but from sheer lack of breath.

Bakula had put into words what all were longing to know, so they sat
quietly, while one of the visitors said: “We don’t know who this white
man is. He is not one of the traders whom we have seen at Mboma,[21] for
he is new to these parts, but he speaks our language very well, though
at times he makes stupidly amusing mistakes. His carriers say that he
comes from Congo dia Ngunga[22]--the king’s town away south. He will not
sell us things like a trader, for he only barters for food for himself
and carriers, and not for ivory or slaves. He offers to give us
medicine, but we are afraid to take it, for who knows but it may bewitch
us to death. He has invited some of our boys to his school, and has
promised to teach them to read and write, and also how to make doors,
windows and bricks, like white men. He even promised to clothe and feed
them; but we shall not let any of them go. What we cannot understand is
this: Why should the white man take all this trouble? Why should he
offer to feed and clothe our children, to teach them, and to give us
medicine?”

Footnote 21:

  See note 19, p. 347.

Footnote 22:

  See note 20, p. 347.

“I know why they do all these things,” shouted the old man with the
plaited beard. “They want to bewitch you; they desire to take your
spirits away, and then they will buy up your bodies and send them to
their own country to turn, by their great magic, into slaves. You know
what I told you on the road;” and with angry, burning words and vehement
gestures he repeated to the whole crowd what he had told the few around
the fire the first night I spent among them; and then, with foaming lips
and glinting eyes, he cried: “This is the kind of white man against whom
I warned you. If he comes here let us kill him.”

The women clapped their hands in horror of the wicked white man, and
held their children tightly to them, and the men shifted nervously in
their seats, and loosened the knives in their belts.

If, at that moment, the white man had walked into the town he would have
been murdered, and his mutilated body thrown into the bush.

It was some time before they had so quieted as to continue their
interrogations of the visitors. “Well, you have not told us what this
white man is like,” called a voice from the back of the crowd.

“No, I have not,” replied the visitor, “because Tata stopped our talk
with his horrible charges against the white men. This man who is coming
is a white man, and you have all seen white men. This one is neither
short nor tall, he has no beard, but he has tin saucepans to cook his
food in, and a funny thing called a frying-pan, which always makes a lot
of noise when it is put on the fire. He is a dirty white man, for the
two days he was in our village he never washed more than his hands and
face, and he smells just like all the other white men.”[23] And the
speaker and others held their noses with expressions of exaggerated
disgust.

Footnote 23:

  See note 21, p. 348.

“I do not think he is dirty,” chimed in one of the listeners. “When I
was last at the coast I asked one of the white man’s boys if his master
was dirty, and he said: ‘No, he takes a bath every day in his house.’
You see this white man is travelling, and has no bath-house with him,
and consequently in front of you he only washes his hands and face.“

“Oh, is that it? Perhaps you are right,” answered the visitor in an
unconvinced voice.

“I will tell you something else,” continued the first speaker. “Once
when I was at the coast I was talking to one of the interpreters there
about this very matter--the smell emitted by white men; and he said:
‘They give off a bad odour, I know, but one day I heard one of the white
traders say: “Those wretched niggers do stink badly!”’ So after all it
may be that we smell as badly to them as they do to us, therefore we
must not complain.”

The man with the plaited beard eyed the speaker for a few moments in
angry contempt, and then he burst out at him in such a tirade that I
feared his words would choke him.

“You dog,” he cried, “you witch, are you in the pay of the white man
that you should thus speak for him? You white man,[24] you bewitched our
chief to death; not Mavakala, I always said he was innocent and he
vomited the ordeal three times, yet they would kill him; but you are the
witch; you sold our chief’s spirit to these cursed white men, and now he
is slaving for them, and we shall all die through your witchcraft and
greed.”

Footnote 24:

  See note 22, p. 348.

By the time the old man had finished his invectives the two chief actors
in this scene were standing by themselves in a circle of anxious,
terror-stricken faces. They were types of the old order and the new--the
old order, slaves to witch-doctors, charms and superstitions that
demanded the continuance of things as they are; the new order, men and
lads upon whose minds new ideas were dawning and struggling for the
mastery against their crude, superstitious fears,--men who were yearning
for they knew not what, and were restless through strange strivings in
their hearts.

There, flooded by the glorious, soft moonlight, stood the two men
glaring at each other. Murder was in their hearts, and their hands were
on their knives. A few moments more and the pent-up feelings of the
surging crowd would have burst their strained barriers and much blood
would have been shed, for each had his adherents, when Satu, the chief,
stepped between the two men.

He was still dressed in mourning for his brother, and the thick coating
of oil and soot on his face--a sign of his sorrow, had not yet been
removed. He was a superstitious man and much travelled, a man in whose
soul what-he-had-seen was struggling with his ignorant, superstitious
fears.

In a few calm words he poured oil on the turbulent passions of his
people. He scouted the idea that because a man related what he had seen
and heard that therefore he was a witch; and he soothed the old man by
promising to oppose the white man.

There was no more talk that night about the coming white man, for very
soon after Satu uttered the above diplomatic words the people separated,
and went either to whisper their fears to each other around their own
fires, or to spread their mats for sleep. Several times during that
night women woke from horrid dreams, screaming that the white man had
stolen their children, or was trying to throttle the souls out of
them.[25] In the morning as the women went to the farms they related to
each other the dreams of the previous night, but instead of regarding
them as nightmares caused by the exciting events of the preceding
evening, they were taken as undeniable proofs of the devilish designs of
the white men to carry out the awful predictions of the old man with the
plaited beard.

Footnote 25:

  See note 23, p. 348.

A few evenings after these happenings the much-talked-about _Mundele wa
N zambi_ (or white man of God) was seen descending the hill on the other
side of our valley. The women, screaming, snatched up their children and
fled; the men beat some loud sounding notes of alarm on the drums; and
then, picking up their guns, machets, knives, sticks, and any weapon to
hand, went hurriedly to bar the entrance to their town. We saw the white
man hesitate, stand still a moment, and then come on slowly and
deliberately. He evidently knew the meaning of those excited thuds on
the drum and the screams of the women.

Bakula, with a heavy stick in his hand--how he longed to have a gun so
as to have a shot at those cruel white men!--ran with the men to the
road by which the white man must come. As we hurried forward we could
hear the men discussing what was to be done. Some were for killing the
white man at once, but the majority said: “No, we will hear what he has
to say. We will smell out his wickedness first, and then if there is
cause we will help you to kill him.” Satu said: “We will neither hear
him, nor kill him; but send him back the way he has come.”

The white man was now mounting the hill. It was a narrow, difficult,
rough track that led to our town. He was panting by reason of the
steepness of the ascent; and seemed utterly wearied with his long
journey. He saw the ugly demonstration in front of him; he heard the
yells and screams of rage and defiance; but he came quietly on--a lonely
man to a surging torrent of wild, uncontrollable passions. His carriers
and boys hung back, for they were overawed by the threatening aspect of
the crowd.

As he drew near the white man held out his hand as a sign of his
friendship; but Bakula, filled with the terrible stories he had heard
about white men, struck at the proffered hand, and missed it in his
blind rage.

Then arose a babble of curses, contradictory shouts, and threats to kill
him if he did not go back. They hustled him about like a battledore.
They tore his clothes; but he was so mixed up with them that they could
neither use guns nor machets without great risks to their friends, and
he was not worth that. When their fury had somewhat spent itself, the
undaunted white man calmly asked them for permission to sleep in their
town.

“No, we don’t want you,” the people screamed.

“I have only come to do you good,” he said.

“No, you have not, you have come to bewitch us to death,” they shouted.

“If I wanted to bewitch you to death I should have brought guns and
soldiers, but you see I have neither. I want to speak to you about the
great and good God Who sent His Son into the world to tell you of His
love, and to save you,” was his quiet reply.

“You are a cunning, crafty witch. We want neither you, nor your
goodness, nor your talk about God, therefore go away,” they cried.

“It is nearly dark, and the next town is a long, long way, and my people
and I are very tired. Let me sleep here outside your town!” he pleaded.

“No, not here,” they said. “It is too close to us; go and sleep by the
stream in the forest.”

“It is cold and damp there, and plenty of fever and mosquitoes are in
that place. Let us sleep here, we shall not harm you!” he smilingly
said.

“No, not here. Down there is good enough for a witch. Keep the fevers
and mosquitoes away with your magic,” they sneeringly retorted.

Sadly and wearily the white man retraced his steps, and as he went down
the hill he called his carriers and boys, and that night they put up
some waterproof sheets to serve as a tent to protect them from the heavy
dews and dripping trees.

Well, it might have been worse, and through his God-given calmness the
white man had come out of a very difficult and dangerous position with
only a few rents in his clothes and a few bruises on his body. We heard
many things about the white man next morning when his boys came up to
the town to buy some food from the people.

All through that night the natives in the town danced around their
fetishes to keep them alert in protecting them from the white man’s
devilry: drums were beaten and gongs sounded to frighten the evil
spirits away; and guns were occasionally fired to warn off witches, and
the lonely white man down in his camp, as he heard the various sounds,
prayed: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,” and
especially did he pray for the lad who struck at his outstretched hand.




                               Chapter IX
                   Some Customs, Games, and a Journey

The luck-giver is called to bring prosperity on the town--His mode of
    procedure--Satu and some of his people go on a visit to a great
    chief--Good and bad omens--The game at “Antelope”--Bakula narrates a
    story: “How the Fox saved the Frog’s Life”--Another lad tells why
    inquiry should come before anger--The difficult road--Bakula and his
    friends dress themselves--Their mixed wardrobes.


Satu, the chief, wished to have a healthy and prosperous town, and his
people were one with him in this laudable desire. Now the only way they
knew of obtaining their object was to send for the luck-giver (or,
_ngang’a zumbi_), who possessed a bag of charms consisting of pieces of
the skins of various animals and reptiles, bits of herbs, and powders
concocted of indescribable messes. These were supposed, when properly
used, to impart good health to a town, good luck in breeding animals,
and prosperity in trade. The people clubbed their moneys together, for,
as all were to share in the good fortune to be conferred by the charm,
all were expected to give towards its expenses; and as the benefits
would be large the cost would also be proportionately great.

I had observed that people who owned little fetishes and expected small
benefits only from them made small offerings to them, such as a little
blood from the foot of a frog, or from the toe of a chicken that cost
them nothing. Those who wanted larger boons killed fowls and poured
their blood over their fetishes; and those who wished for greater
advantages sacrificed goats every month--their expectations were in
proportion to their sacrifices.

The fee having been collected, the luck-giver was called. He was a
wizen-faced, withered man with small, crafty, shiftless eyes. His
appearance seemed to belie his cornucopian office; but, perhaps, he
could give to others the good fortune that he had apparently failed to
procure for himself.

On his arrival he very carefully selected a hard wood log and cut a hole
in it, and into this hole he put bits of all the articles from his bag
so as to make the log an effective charm. A hole was dug in the ground
on the outskirts of the town by the side of the road along which the
women passed when fetching water from the stream. A goat was then killed
and the head put in the hole, and the fetish stick erected on it--this
was supposed to preserve the post from the attacks of the white
ants,--and then the blood from the slain goat was poured over the charms
in the post; and over the hole containing the charms was tied a piece of
palm-tree gossamer, which also was drenched with the goat’s blood. Earth
was rammed round the stick, and the fetish was now completed, and ready
to work.

But there was one prohibition that the luck-giver said must be
scrupulously observed: nothing tied in a bundle could be brought into
the town, or the charm would become ineffective, and its luck-giving
power destroyed. Women returning with firewood must untie their bundles
before reaching the fetish; men with bundles of thatching-grass must
take off the bands; carriers with loads must either loosen all the
cords, or make a wide detour to avoid the town; and the people must
remove their girdles and belts.

This was a very cunning prohibition, for, if the town had good health,
the animals bred well, and the trade prospered, then the luck-giver
received all the credit for making such a wonderful charm; but if no
good results followed the expense and trouble of setting up such a
costly fetish, then some one had broken the taboo and nullified the
luck-giving properties of the fetish post.

As the luck-giver was there Satu and some of the head men thought they
would invest in a luck charm for their own private use. My owner,
Bakula, longed to speculate in one, and he counted his little store of
savings, but found that he had not near enough for the fee, etc.

The necessary arrangements having been made and the fee paid, Satu and
the head men selected strong, young cocks and carried them to the
luck-giver, who took out of his bag of charms a small portion of each
and pounded them carefully into a well-mixed paste, and a little of this
“medicine” he gave to each cock, and thereupon they became the very
embodiment of luck and all kinds of good fortune to their happy owners.

As only rich men could afford such luxuries as these expensive charms
the superstitions respecting their wealth-giving powers were fostered
and maintained. From that time these fowls were treated as fetishes. No
one was permitted to beat or hurt a luck fowl (or _nsusu a zumbi_). It
was respected like a chief, and strutted about the town crowing
aggressively, as though it were fully cognizant of its own importance.

This fetish fowl was supposed to tell its owner of coming events as
danger to the town or to himself. By its crow it predicted the future,
and, as only the owner was able to rightly interpret the crow, he had
therefore exclusive information which he could use for his own
advantage. I found afterward that when these fowls grow old they are
killed and eaten only by their owners, and the charm is given to other
fowls; and sometimes the charm is put into a billy-goat or into a male
pig, and they are then treated with respect like the fetish fowls, and
tell their masters by their bleatings and gruntings of future events.

One day Satu told his people that he was going in eight days to visit
the great chief of a distant town, and he asked some of his people to go
with him. He had fourteen wives, but he promised to take only six of
them. He reckoned to be absent about a fortnight, or, as they put it,
four _nkandu_,[26] i. e. sixteen days. Great preparations were made for
this visit of ceremony. All who owned bits of finery brought them out of
their hiding-places and furbished them anew. Cassava roots were dried,
peanuts were shelled, and as the day of departure drew near _kwanga_[27]
bread was made ready for the journey. Messengers had been sent to inform
the chief of the coming visit, and had returned with greetings and words
of welcome.

Footnote 26:

  See Chapter XVIII, on native markets, p. 223.

Footnote 27:

  See note 11, p. 345.

The day at last dawned on which Satu was to pay his important visit to a
brother chief. Bakula, with a bundle of Satu’s best cloths, cosmetics
and trinkets, led the way; then came some ordinary town-folk carrying
sleeping-mats, food for the journey, small bottles of palm-oil, and
cakes of camwood powder. Following these was our town band, consisting
of five ivory trumpets and three drums. Whenever we drew near to a
village or town our band played to notify the folk that some great men
were coming. Behind the band came Satu with his six wives, other head
men followed with contingents of wives from their harems, and Old
Plaited-Beard brought up the rear with three of his wives.

We had not gone very far when a snake darted out of the grass on one
side of the road, but instead of crossing the path, it turned up towards
the oncoming party. Bakula, terrified at the evil omen, called a halt
and sent word along the line to ask Satu what was to be done.

While Satu was hesitating Old Plaited-Beard came up, and as soon as he
heard of the ill omen he insisted that the whole party should return and
start the journey over again. Many protested at this foolishness, but
others, swayed by superstitious fears, agreed that the only wise course
was to return at once.

Fortunately we were not far from our town, and before the sun was very
high we were back at the starting-point, where we rested for a short
time, and received the condolences of those left in the town.

If the snake had only turned the other way it would have been an augury
of good luck. Bakula, directly he saw it coming out of the grass, should
have shouted, and then the snake would have directed its course the
opposite way. He might have turned, by prompt action, an ill omen into a
good augury, and we should have been saved all this trouble.

After a rest we again started, and as a bird flew along the path in the
direction in which we were going everybody began to laugh and crack
jokes, for this omen of the bird was entirely in our favour.

About the middle of the afternoon we reached a village, where we decided
to spend the night. The chief of this village, being a man of no family,
paid homage to Satu, and gave him and the other head men houses for the
night, but the ordinary members of the party slept in the open. Satu
also received from the chief presents of different kinds of food, as
bunches of plantain, baskets of cassava flour, a few fowls, and two
demijohns of palm-wine, which was fizzing loudly with fermentation and
was strong enough to make them drunk, only fortunately there was not
enough of it.

While we were resting I noticed the youngsters in this village played an
amusing game called “Antelope,” and they did it in the following manner:
All the players but one ran about on all-fours with their faces upwards,
one person alone being allowed to stand up, and he was called the
“antelope,” and the others were called the “hunters.” They scuttled
about in this ridiculous attitude, and each tried to touch, or kick the
“antelope” with his foot.

A large court had been marked out on the ground, and the “antelope” was
not allowed to go outside it, and the “hunters” tried to hem him in a
corner; but when the “antelope,” to avoid being touched, ran out of
court all the “hunters” got on their feet and chased him, and he who
first pretended to cut him up with a knife became the “antelope.”

A general _mêlée_ usually ensued, for every one pretended to cut him up
with shouts of “a leg for me,” “head for me,” “some flesh for me.” The
game excited much laughter, and all seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.

After the evening meal was over, and the men had lit their pipes and
gone to hold high converse on politics, woman, and sundry other
important matters, Bakula was called upon by the young men of the party
to tell a story or two before they rolled themselves in their mats for
the night.

Nothing loth, he told, with all his usual grace and sprightliness, the
following story, perhaps suggested by the fact that they themselves were
on a journey. He called it--

                     “How the Fox saved the Frog.”

“A Frog, having built a nice town, received a visit from several
well-dressed young men. The Frog welcomed them, and they very civilly
answered his greetings. The Frog asked them where they were going, and
they replied: ‘We are not going anywhere in particular; we are just
walking about visiting the towns.’ The Frog called out his thirty wives
to come and pay their respects to the visitors, and they came out of
their houses and greeted the young men.

“The wives asked their husband how he came to know them, and he replied:
‘I do not know them, but seeing them well dressed I saluted them.’

“‘Oh! you welcomed them because they are well dressed,’ they retorted;
‘yet ever since we married you we have never received any new cloths
from you.’[28]

Footnote 28:

  It is the custom for a man to give his wife at least one new cloth
  every year.

“‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘I am well known as a great chief who has built
a whole town and married thirty wives.’

“‘Oh yes,’ they answered, ‘you are well known; but we work and farm, and
have no cloths, only rags, hence you don’t respect us like those who are
well dressed.’ The Frog was dumb.

“The Frog asked the young men where and how he could buy some cloth, and
they told him that if he carried some peanuts to Mboma[29] he could buy
plenty there, and the road was not difficult to find, for if he followed
the river he would reach there in a few days. The Frog was glad to hear
this, and thereupon he killed six fowls and made a feast for his
friends, and told each of his wives to bring him a large basket of
peanuts in the morning, for he said: ‘Altho’ I am a big chief of a large
town I feel ashamed, because my wives have had no new cloths since I
married them, and they do not dress properly.’

Footnote 29:

  See note 19, p. 347.

“The next morning the peanuts were brought and tied into a load, and for
the journey some food was prepared, and the Frog started, telling his
wives that he would be back in twenty days.

“On the third day of his journey the Frog reached a large baobab-tree
that had fallen across the road, and while he was considering how he, a
person with such short legs, could jump over it, he heard a voice say:
‘If you are a strong man please put down your bundle and save me, for as
I was on my way to visit my wife’s family this tree fell on me and has
held me here for twenty months. Have pity on me and help me now from
under this tree.’

“When the Frog heard this, he at once put down his load and went under
the tree, and swelled and swelled until he lifted it and the Snake was
able to crawl out; then the Frog let the tree down again, and went to
pick up his load to continue his journey. The Snake, however,
immediately caught him by the leg, and told him to get ready to be
swallowed.

“The Frog said: ‘What have I done that you should swallow me, for
although I had a right to be paid for helping you, yet I did not ask for
anything! Let me go on my way to Mboma.’

“While they were arguing about this an Antelope arrived, and he was
asked to judge between them; but when he had heard the whole matter he
was afraid to settle the affair properly, for he said to himself: ‘If I
let the Frog go, who is right, but little, then the Snake will kill me.’
So the Antelope gave the verdict in favour of the Snake.

“The Snake quickly said: ‘Do you hear that? Get ready at once and I will
swallow you.’ But the Frog cried: ‘He would have given me the verdict
only he is afraid of you.’

“While they were discussing this point a Fox arrived on the scene, and
he wanted to hear all about it. When the case was laid before him, the
Snake said: ‘Am I not in the right, for I am very hungry and want to
swallow the Frog?’

“But the Fox would not give the verdict until he had seen the Frog lift
the tree, so he said to the Snake: ‘Release the Frog’s leg and let him
go and raise the tree,’ which the Frog did at once.

“The Fox said: ‘Truly the Frog is very strong to lift so large a tree.
Now, Snake, you go under it, and show us how you were lying beneath the
tree.’ So the Snake went, thinking he would surely win the case as the
judge was taking so much trouble over it, but the Snake was no sooner
under the tree than the Fox called out: ‘Frog, let go the tree,’ and
down it came right on the Snake, holding him so that he could not get
away.

“The Fox then said to the Snake: ‘You are entirely in the wrong, for
your friend did a kindness to you in helping you in your trouble, but
you want to repay him by a bad deed--you want to swallow him.’

“Thereupon they all went away, leaving the Snake under the tree, as no
one would help him again for fear of his ingratitude.

“The Frog thanked the Fox for saving him, and gave him his load of
peanuts, and they became great friends.”

At the close of this story no one had a word to say in defence of the
Snake’s ingratitude. All thought he was rightly punished in being left
beneath the tree to starve to death, and Bakula remarked that:
“Ingratitude is a crime so black that no one ever owned to being guilty
of it, and everybody is ready to condemn it in others.”

This story had so swept sleep from their eyes that they begged Bakula to
tell them another of his stories; but he said he could not recall any
more stories that night; and then another lad volunteered, and, with
much laughter, told the following story of the trick a jocular boy
played on two friends. I call this--

                  “Inquiry should come before Anger.”

“Once upon a time a Wine-gatherer and a Fisherman became great friends;
they ate together, walked and talked together, and went to work
together; and when one went to collect wine from his palm-trees the
other would look after his fish-traps in the streams and pools near to
the palm-trees; and after their work was finished they would meet in the
booth to drink the wine and cook and eat the fish together.

“One day, while thus eating and drinking, the Wine-gatherer said: ‘There
is no one who can break the strong friendship that exists between us
two,’ and the Fisherman assented, saying: ‘Why, if you had not mentioned
it, I was going to remark that no one can separate us one from the
other.’

“A frolicsome boy heard them make this covenant of friendship, and
laughingly said to himself: ‘When they go away I will do that which will
test their friendship for each other.’

“In a short time the two friends returned together to their town, and
when they had gone the boy took the hoop and climbed up the palm-trees,
and removed all the small calabashes that were placed there to catch the
palm-wine, and then he went to the pools and streams and gathered all
the fish-traps, and put the calabashes in their place, and the
fish-traps he tied to the palm-trees. Having thus changed them he
returned to his town.

“Next morning the Wine-gatherer and the Fisherman awoke, and calling
each other they started for the valley where their work was, and there
parted--one to look at his calabashes on the palm-trees, and the other
to visit his fish-traps.

“The Wine-gatherer, on arriving at the booth, took his hoop and climbed
a palm-tree, and there he found, not his calabash, but a fish-trap; he
pulled it off and threw it down in anger, and descended the palm. Thus
he went from palm to palm and found nothing but fish-traps, which he
collected and carried to the booth, and sat down to wait for his friend,
full of wrath and indignation.

“While this was happening the Fisherman was going from pool to stream,
finding nothing but small calabashes floating on the water where he had
put fish-traps the night before. In great anger he gathered them up and
carried them to the booth, and there he met his friend, who said: ‘Those
calabashes, are they not mine?’

“To him the Fisherman replied: ‘Those fish-traps, are they not mine?’

“‘Why did you put your useless fish-traps in my palm-trees?’ excitedly
asked the Wine-gatherer.

“‘Why did you put your silly calabashes in my streams and pools?’
retorted the Fisherman.

“And without more ado they stood up and beat each other, and cut each
other, until at last they fell exhausted to the ground.

“At this moment the mischievous boy arrived, and seeing their plight,
said: ‘What! are you not friends? Why have you been beating each other?
I heard your covenant of friendship the other day, and because I wanted
to try it I went and changed your things. Now you have been quarrelling
with each other without talking matters over. Inquiry should come first,
and anger follow after.’”

This story elicited many a chuckle from the listeners; but at last,
overcome by sleep, they rolled themselves in their mats and were soon in
the land of dreams. The next morning they were astir before sunrise, and
after traversing many hills and wading several swamps and streams Bakula
and his friends reached their noon camping-place, tired, hungry and
disagreeable. Everybody threw down his or her load, and stretched
themselves in the shade.

It was a wearisome road. The hills were steep, the paths simply
rain-washed gutters where all the earth had been swept away by the
torrents, leaving only the rough stones sticking up, and often on either
side of the track was tall grass from ten to twelve feet high that
interlocked their stalks when the storm winds played among the hills or
whirled through the valleys, so that the travellers as they pushed their
way forward had frequently to put their arms before them to keep the
points of grass out of their eyes and the sharp blades from cutting
their faces.

[Illustration:

  _Photo_]     JUNGLE PATH THROUGH THE FOREST     [_Rev. R. H.
    Kirkland._
  (Said to be haunted by bad spirits at night.)
]

Huge boulders like giants’ marbles were strewn about the hill-tops, and
some were clinging to the sides of the hills, while others were lying
about the valleys as though the players in their games had thrown them
too far. The travellers had, with difficulty, to wind round or clamber
over them, and every extra exertion was felt in such a tropical heat.

After resting they ate some of their _kwanga_ loaves, and, bathing in
the turbid river, they picked up their burdens to start again on their
journey, when Old Plaited-Beard kicked his foot against a stone. A look
of horror came into his beady eyes at the ill omen against himself.

The snake omen was against the whole party, but this was against the
individual. On a journey like this the omen might mean death at the end
of the journey to whomsoever it occurred, and the only way to counteract
its potency in this case was to go right back home and stay there.

Old Plaited-Beard was too superstitious to disregard the portend, and
with many a muttered curse on his carelessness he turned his face
homewards, having taken the long fatiguing journey to no purpose. No one
regretted his going, for he was as cantankerous as he was superstitious.

His wives and followers at first refused to return with him; but the old
man, infuriated at their unwillingness, poured upon them a torrent of
abuse, charged them with bewitching him to kick the stone, and
threatened them with the curses of his various fetishes in such
invectives that they trembled before him, and, gathering their goods,
followed him with hearts full of fear and hate.

We lost so much time over these events that instead of reaching our
destination that evening we were compelled to spend another night on the
road. The whole of the next morning was leisurely spent in resting and
dressing.

Satu and his followers bathed during the morning, using soap-worts,
which lather well, instead of soap. Then one of his wives combed out and
replaited his hair, and dusted it with fine camwood powder. Another wife
very carefully rubbed his face, body, legs and arms with palm-oil, to
render the skin soft and cool; and a third pounded some camwood into a
fine powder, and, putting it into a coarse mesh cloth, dabbed the oiled
skin with the cosmetic, giving it a pleasant look and an appearance of
being well groomed. A thick band of brilliant red was drawn across the
forehead, and Satu went and lolled on a mat to wait for those who had
not such expert wives.

The wives rubbed one another with palm-oil, and dusted each other with
the red camwood powder. Bakulu and his friends operated, with the skill
of experience, on each other, and I came in for such a polishing that I
shone like gold on my owner’s neck.

These toilet operations being completed, bundles were untied and a
miscellaneous assortment of garments and gaudy coloured cloths were
brought to light, and were donned with all seriousness.

The eight bandsmen were adorned in two old pairs of trousers, three
waistcoats, one pair of boots--down at the heels and out at the toes,
two jackets with patches of different colours on the sleeves, and two
peaked hats that, like their other articles of attire, had seen better
days in other climes. The intervals in their dress were filled with
diverse pieces of gaily coloured cloth. Satu followed, invested in a
bright red blanket round his loins, two waistcoats, old and ill-fitting,
across his chest, a heavy brown coat on his back, and a large brass
fireman’s helmet on his head. Behind him came his wives, the foremost of
whom carried a red, black and green parasol over her husband’s head. The
sun blazed, and poor Satu perspired in the costume that had cost him a
heavy tusk of ivory.

The other head men were arrayed in soldiers’ coats of diverse ranks and
regiments--in their selection they had not been captivated by the
stripes on the arms, but by the colours. Hence you saw a colonel of one
regiment hob-nobbing with the corporal of another. Bakula wore a cloth
of gorgeous colours round his waist, a brewer’s cap on his head, one
stocking (he owned a pair, but had lent the other to his particular
friend) on one leg, a boot on the other, and a beaming self-satisfied
smile on his face.

Fortunately we had not far to go. Up a slight hill, across a plateau,
and there stood the town we had come to honour with our presence.




                               Chapter X
                    Our Reception and Entertainment

The welcome of Tonzeka and his people--A case judged--We find the white
    man in Tonzeka’s town--Tonzeka defends the white man--He complains
    of the effect of the white man’s preaching--A drunken bout.


The whole town turned out to welcome us with shouts, gun-firing,
clapping of hands, trillings, and the slapping of their open mouths with
the palms of their hands. The folk lined the paths leading to their
chief’s house, and saluted and chaffed us good-humouredly as we threaded
our way to it preceded by our admired band. Satu’s brass helmet excited
much envy and many remarks. It was the first time such a head-gear had
been seen in those parts, and naturally called for various comments on
its size, brightness and value.

Chief Tonzeka received us heartily, and having exchanged greetings with
us, showed Satu and his followers the quarters they were to occupy
during their visit, and deputed a large number of women to fetch
firewood and water, and also cook for us. The women had to supply all
the vegetable foods for our meals, and Tonzeka sent them the necessary
meat and fish. Tonzeka proved the genuineness of his hospitality by
killing a large pig, thus supplying Satu and his people with the meat
that all Congos love so well.

We incidentally heard there was a white man--one of those _Mundele wa N
zambi_ (white men of God) visiting the town, but we did not see him
until the next evening.

While the women were busy preparing the evening meal, Satu and his folk
foregathered in the chief’s courtyard (_lumbu_) to exchange news, to
talk about trade, about politics, and about the different cases that had
been brought to them for settlement as chiefs and head men.

Tonzeka gave as an example of the foolishness of the people in his
district the following case that was brought before him for judgment.

“A pig belonging to the Lumu people was killed by a Manga man on a farm
belonging to one of his wives. The Lumu folk demanded payment for the
pig; but this was refused on the ground that any pigs found digging up
cassava roots on a farm can be killed. After a time the Manga women went
to work that piece of ground again, and the Lumu women met them there,
and, being more numerous, took away the hoes belonging to the Manga
women, and claimed the land as their pig was killed on it, and no
compensation had been paid for it. That evening the chief of Manga sent
a message to the chief of Lumu, and the messenger carried a gun, which
he should not have done, so the Lumu people took the gun away from him
on the plea that he was bringing force into their town.”

“How did you settle that palaver?” asked Satu.

“Well, you know,” replied Tonzeka, “that any pig found on another’s farm
may be killed, and in some parts of the country the man who kills it can
take half the flesh for the trouble of killing it, and to compensate him
for the damage done to his farm; and the other half he sends to the
owner of the pig. In this part, when a pig is killed for trespassing,
the one who kills it leaves it at the place where it was slain, and
sends to tell the owner what he has done, and he himself has to fetch
the carcass, and as he finds it on another person’s farm he has sure
proof that it has trespassed.”

“Yes,” assented Satu, “I know those are the different customs, and in
our district we always take half the pig.”

“But,” continued Tonzeka, “this case was complicated because the Manga
people allowed their messenger to take a gun with him when he was sent
with their message.”

“That was very foolish of them,” said Satu, “but how did you decide the
case?”

“I judged it thus,” answered Tonzeka. “I fined the Lumu people one pig
for attempting to claim land which did not belong to them, as the
killing of a pig gave them no rights over the land on which it was
killed; and I fined the Manga people one goat, as the messenger had no
right to carry a gun when he went to deliver a message. It was taking
force into another’s town, and was also an exhibition of insolence.”

“You judged wisely,” commented Satu, “and I hope you received a fat pig
and a large goat for your trouble.”

“You will be able to judge that for yourselves,” laughingly replied
Tonzeka, “for the fines[30] only arrived this morning, and you will be
eating the pig for your evening meal.”

Footnote 30:

  See note 25, p. 348.

Satu expressed the hope that he would receive such splendid fines every
day.

Tonzeka then informed his visitors that there was a white man staying in
his town, and promised to take his friend Satu to see him.

“I wonder if it is the same one whom we drove out of our town?” queried
Satu.

“Why did you drive him away?” asked Tonzeka, with a note of surprise in
his voice. “Surely he had done no harm to either you or your people?”

In an apologetic tone Satu admitted that he had not done them any harm,
for they did not give him an opportunity, as they would not allow him to
enter the town. “But Old Plaited-Beard told us such horrible things
against the white men that if I had not been there my people would have
killed this one. What is he doing in your town?”

To him Tonzeka replied: "This white man comes to see us very often, and
tells us about God, and about His Son Jesus Christ, Who, so the white
man says, came to die for us on a cross. I don’t understand all his
palavers; but he washes the sores of old and young, rich and poor, head
men and slaves, puts good medicine on them, ties them up with his own
white fingers, and the sores are quickly healed. We understand that! You
know my mother was very ill, and we tried one _nganga_ after another,
but they failed to cure her, although they ‘ate’ up a lot of money. Then
this white man came on one of his visits, and in two or three days she
was fully restored to health by the white man’s medicines."

“Yes,” remarked Satu, “perhaps he gave her the sickness by his
witchcraft, and therefore could easily cure her. These white men are
exceedingly cunning.”

“I know what you mean,” replied Tonzeka. “That is what our _ngangas_ do
to make money out of us. The _ngangas_ by means of their charms and
fetishes cause our diseases, and they receive fees for doing so; by
their fetishes they curse us or try to cure us, and again they receive
fees, and thus they become rich by our complaints. This white man did
not charge for the medicine, and what is more he gave my mother some of
his own food to make her strong.”

“I did not quite mean that,” said Satu, “but these white men are here to
buy up the dead bodies of our relatives, which they store in their
houses, and on the first good chance they send them away in their ships
to Mputu to become their slaves. They have wonderful magic for restoring
the spirits to the bodies.” And as he spoke a look of alarm and hate
came into his eyes, for he called to mind his fear that his own brother
and various other relatives were, as he was speaking, toiling in farms
and forests for their dreaded white masters.

With an air of superior knowledge Tonzeka said to his honoured visitor:
"There was a time when I also firmly believed what you have just stated;
but I and many of my people have been to this white man’s station. He
received us very kindly and showed us over his house; and truly, we saw
no shelves[31] there, and no places where he could keep dead bodies.
When we had an opportunity we entered his stores, medicine-house, boys’
quarters, and nowhere did we find a place where he could stow away dead
bodies. After two or three visits we came to the conclusion that these
falsehoods had been started by our _ngangas_ to protect their own
interests."

Footnote 31:

  See note 26, p. 349.

Satu expressed his astonishment at what he had heard; but still
doubting, asked: “Did you go into all the rooms in his house, and does
he ever send bales and boxes to the coast?”

“Yes,” replied Tonzeka, “I went into all the rooms, for one of the boys
showed me every nook and corner one day while the white man was absent.
He does not trade, consequently he has no bales and boxes to send to the
coast. Friend Satu, do not believe those lies about the white man.
Evidently ivory and rubber have a value in their country. Why, the white
man himself showed me a coat and a sheet made of rubber that no water
could pass through. I tried them myself; and I understand that in their
country it rains all the year round, for they have no dry season as we
have, and if they had no rubber they could not make rubber coats, and
would have to stay in their houses every day.”

Satu thanked his friend and said: "What you tell me about rubber coats
and sheets quite accounts for the presence of traders in our country;
but these ‘white men of God’ do not trade. Why are they here?" And a
look of sly triumph came into his eyes as he continued: “They don’t buy
rubber, they don’t deal in ivory, they don’t trade in anything, and,
according to your own statement, they don’t even buy dead bodies. Why
are they here? That is what I want to know?”

“That is the very question I put to this white man myself,” replied
Tonzeka, "and I will try to give you his answer. He said: A very long
time ago, years and years ago, the people in his country were just like
the people are now in our country. They were naked, painted savages that
lived in huts in their forests. They had spears and knives, and fought
each other as we do. They had canoes like ours, and wore brass armlets
and anklets very much the same as ours. They believed in fetishes,
charms and _ngangas_; and, to use his own words, his forefathers lived
wretched lives and died miserable deaths without God and without hope.
Then some messengers brought to his country the wonderful news about
God, about Jesus Christ, and about the great Salvation, and the hearts
and lives of many thousands were changed and filled with joy and
pity--joy because they were saved, and pity for us who know not of God’s
great love for all, for so great is His love that He freely gave His
beloved Son to die for us. Now these people have sent this white man and
others like him to pass on the blessings of Jesus and His grand
salvation to us, for it seems that this Jesus gave them a command to
preach the good news to everybody all over the world.

“I spent nearly a whole evening in talking these palavers over with the
white man, and I have told you all I have remembered; but I am afraid I
have forgotten a great many of his words.”

Again Satu thanked his friend, and promised to ponder in his heart the
words he had heard, or, as he expressed it: “To drink water over them.”

“Well,” said Tonzeka, “I have sent two of my sons to the white man’s
school, and they are learning to read, write, do carpentry and to make
bricks. They are gaining much knowledge, but there is one thing I do not
like about this white man.”

“What is that?” eagerly asked Satu.

Tonzeka paused a few moments before replying, and then he broke out in a
self-pitying tone: "This white man tells me that I am a bad man, because
I lie, steal, commit adultery and become often very drunk, and in doing
these bad deeds I am breaking God’s laws, and shall be punished for
doing so. When he talks like that I always feel very uncomfortable, for
I know that what he says is perfectly true. I never heard before that
God had given any laws for us to obey, because, as you know, we have no
books; yet when we get drunk, or thieve, or lie, or do any other bad
action, something inside tells us that they are wrong and condemns us;
but we are not ashamed, because everybody does them. If he would give us
medicine, and teach our boys and girls it would be all right, but when
he talks God’s palavers I do not like him, for he makes my ‘heart stand
up’ with fear."

Satu was about to condole with him, but there was a general movement
towards the fires, for by now the saucepans were steaming with cooked
food, and all the folk were eagerly anticipating the feast of pig and
pudding. Satu turned these matters over in his mind, and remarked to one
of his head men: “After all, there are some disadvantages in having a
white man in one’s town, if he makes us uncomfortable in our hearts;
and,” he continued, “I am not sure whether Tonzeka is bewitched by the
white man, or is sharing profits with the white man in the sale of dead
bodies.”

After the evening meal Tonzeka gave another proof of his hospitality. He
opened some cases of trade gin[32] and two demijohns of rum, and invited
Satu and his party to a drinking bout.

The fiery liquor quickly induced a quarrelsomeness in the drinkers that
I thought would cause such murderous fights that the town would be
drenched with blood; indeed, Bakula received a nasty cut on his arm, and
several others were wounded and bruised. But this intoxicated madness
was fortunately soon succeeded by a maudlin state, in which the
carousers embraced each other, shouted senseless sayings, joined in
ribald refrains, and engaged in obscene dances until at last the potions
gained the mastery and they fell on the ground in sottish sleep--mere
breathing logs.

Borne on the breeze from a distant part of the town came the evening
hymn of the white man and his boys, and distinctly the words were
carried to me--

                “God loved the world of sinners lost
                  And ruined by the fall;
                Salvation full, at highest cost,
                  He offers free to all.
                    Oh, ’twas love, ’twas wondrous love!
                      The love of God to me!
                    It brought my Saviour from above
                      To die on Calvary.”

Footnote 32:

  See note 27, p. 349.




                               Chapter XI
                       Satu visits the White Man

Bakula goes to the white man to have his wound dressed--White man puts
    in a good word for the traders--Bakula is touched by the white man’s
    kindness--A native dance--An exhibition of native pride--A long talk
    with the white man--We gain many new ideas from our
    conversation--Bakula has another interview with the white man, and
    they become good friends.


The next morning the sun rose with clear-eyed brightness, oblivious of
all that had occurred during his absence through the night, for he and
the moon never approach near enough to each other to exchange
confidences. Notwithstanding the sun’s obliviousness, the results of the
night’s debauchery were evident in all who had taken part in it. Some
ate monkey peppers, others bits of kola-nuts as pick-me-ups, and others
took a plunge bath in the nearest stream; but headaches, wounds and
bruises were not easily removed by such means.

[Illustration: _Photo_]     WATHEN: THE DISPENSARY.     [_Rev. J. H.
Weeks._]

[Illustration:

  WATHEN: THE BOYS’ QUARTERS.
  _Bricks made by schoolboys and buildings erected by old school lads._
]

During the afternoon those who had smarting cuts went shamefacedly to
the white man to have them bandaged with his soothing ointments, and
among those who went was Bakula. He thought the white man would not know
him in his “dress costume”; but I saw that the white man recognized him
at once, though he said nothing at the time.

The white man carefully dressed the wounds, and then asked them how they
came by them.

“We don’t know,” they answered, “for we got madly drunk last night on
gin and rum, then we had a fight and cut each other. We were too
stupidly intoxicated to remember which one cut the other, and who
started the quarrel.”

“I am sorry the traders sell you such vile stuff. It maddens you when
you drink it, and it is the chief cause among you of a great amount of
sickness, and of a large number of the fights that occur between your
towns and villages,” quietly and sadly replied the white man.

“Yes,” they asserted in chorus, “the traders are all as bad as the
things they sell us.”

“No, they are not all bad,” sharply answered the white man, “and neither
are all the articles they sell bad. You can buy from them good cloth for
covering yourselves, blankets to keep you warm in the cold season, nails
and tools for building your houses, soap, candles, saucepans, tins of
provisions, and many other things that are good, and help to make your
lives comfortable.”

“That is so,” they assented, “but when our heads ache with the bad gin,
we forget the many good articles we can buy of them.”

“I know many of those traders,” continued the white man, “who hate
selling gin and rum to you, and wish a law[33] could be enforced to stop
all trade in them; but you are such fools, and will buy drink; and there
is so large a profit on it that their masters in Mputu make them sell it
to you.[34] Some of the traders are very good men, and perform many acts
of kindness to you black people. Do your wives throw away all the
pumpkins in their farms because a few have maggots in them?”

Footnote 33:

  See note 28, p. 349.

Footnote 34:

  See note 29, p. 350.

“No, of course not,” they sheepishly replied; “our wives throw only the
rotten ones away.”

“Well,” rejoined the white man, “do not speak ill of all the traders
because some cheat and rob you; nor condemn all their goods because they
sell these accursed fiery waters that turn your towns into pandemoniums,
and you into beasts and fiends. Buy the good articles they have, and let
the bad ones alone.”

Bakula was astonished that the white man had not accused him of striking
at his outstretched, friendly hand. He was in a quandary. Did the white
man recognize him or not? Or was he simply waiting his opportunity to
punish him for what he was now heartily ashamed? He was fearful lest the
latter was the explanation, and he had almost made up his mind to put
the matter to the test, and ask the white man; but just then the drums
began to beat, and hurriedly taking farewell of their friend who had so
patiently dressed their wounds and given them good counsel, they ran
back to the chief’s courtyard.

To the native there is something electrical, moving, exhilarating about
the beat of a native drum. Directly he hears it his body begins to
twitch and sway to and fro in rhythm to the beat, a smile spreads over
his face, weariness is forgotten, dull care is thrown to the winds, and
he is soon shuffling round the circle, or has taken his place in the
line, clapping his hands, and singing a chorus in admirable time.

Bakula and his townsmen were no exception, for even now in their running
they kept step to the beat of the drum. On their arrival they took their
place in the line of male dancers. The particular dance to the fore was
called “Sala.” A medium drum was used, and the formation was in two
lines, one of each sex. This dance was characterized by a rapid shaking
of the whole body; and during it they made up songs about one another,
causing endless amusement by their pointed remarks, innuendoes, and
by-play.

While the dance was in progress a member of Tonzeka’s town went over to
the drum, and by beating on it carried on a conversation such as the
following, asking questions and replying to them himself.

“Welcome to you, chief Satu. Are you quite well?”

“I am quite well,” replies the drummer.

“Have you come a long way?”

“Yes, my town is very far away.”

“Are you very rich?”

“Yes, I have plenty of wives, slaves, pigs, goats, cloth and money. I am
so wealthy that I really don’t know how rich I am. I don’t know what to
do with my money. It fills my bags, boxes and houses.”

“Have you much with you?”

“Yes, my pouches and bundles are full.”

“Give me some of it, as you are so rich.”

And foolish Satu, flattered by this pretended conversation out of his
usual caution, and in the vanity and pride of the moment, handed over
some thirty shillings’ worth of brass rods. Gratified by the largesse
the drummer beat away and sang a recitative in praise of Satu’s
generosity, and the object of all this by-play sat swelling with
self-complacency.

No sooner did the first drummer drop the drum than Bakula darted
forward, and with laughing eyes and skilful hands beat out a
conversation in fulsome praise of Tonzeka; his riches, his prowess in
war, his unstinted hospitality--all received their full meed of
wheedling adulation, and at last came the expected request: “As you are
so rich, so great, so generous a man, give me some of your money.”

And poor, cajoled Tonzeka had to pass over thirty-five shillings’ worth
of brass rods, for it would never have done not to surpass his visitor,
Satu.

Bakula went to share his spoils with some friends; and another man took
the drum and tapped out flatteries about the different head men with
varying success, until he received what he considered a very mean
present.

Then the disappointed drummer rapped out a song on stinginess so
bitingly sarcastic that sharp words were bandied about from side to
side, and what began as an amusing dance ended in a _mêlée_ that
engendered bad blood between the persons concerned for many a day.

As soon as the noise had quieted down, Tonzeka offered to take his
visitor to see the white man, but through an indefinable fear Satu
shrank from going in the broad daylight, and promised to accept the
invitation after the evening meal. So at the appointed time Tonzeka
called Satu, and together they walked over to the white man’s quarters,
followed by a large number of people.

The white man had heard of the proposed visit, and with the help of
boxes and rugs had prepared seats for the coming visitors.

Satu, however, before trusting himself to the improvised chair, lifted
the rug, shook the box to test its stability, and then gingerly took his
seat. There was more than a rumour afloat that the King of Congo had
murdered his mother by inviting her to sit on a mat which gave way
beneath her. It had precipitated her, it was said, into a carefully
prepared hole, and directly the wretched woman disappeared, the
unnatural son ordered her to be buried alive.

The white man was fully conscious of Satu’s implied distrust, but said
nothing; and Tonzeka pompously introduced Satu and some of the head men
who had accompanied him.

During the speech Satu sat uneasily on his seat, casting furtive glances
at the slim, kindly-faced white man before him. After all he did not
look so terrible that a whole town should go frantic with fear of him.

When Tonzeka had concluded his speech the white man replied: “I am so
glad to see Satu, for I have often heard of him, and a few weeks ago I
went to visit him, but through some silly prejudice he would not give me
hospitality, and sent me and my people to sleep in the damp with the
mosquitoes at the bottom of his hill. Since then I have heard that some
of his people wanted to kill me, but he would not let them;” and leaning
forward he took Satu’s hand in his, and said: “I thank you very much for
not only saving my life, but the lives of those who were with me. There
was a lad who struck at my outstretched hand. This afternoon he came for
medicine for a bad cut on his arm, thinking I did not know him. There he
is, standing with the firelight full on his face. Will he not shake
hands and be friends?”

And, rising, the white man went with outstretched hand to Bakula, who
with much trepidation put his hand nervously into the very hand at which
he had so cruelly aimed a heavy blow. In broken sentences Bakula begged
forgiveness, which was freely given.

Everybody now felt thoroughly at home with each other, especially when
Satu had cordially invited the white man to visit him, promising better
hospitality next time; and the white man heartily accepted the
invitation, promising, on his part, to come soon. Then came a long
series of questions about Mputu (the countries of the white man); and
while the white man told them of the great houses with many rooms, the
innumerable streets, the broad roads, the trams, horses, and the size of
the cities and towns, the audience sat with wide-eyed astonishment,
broken only by the snapping of fingers and exclamations of surprise.

At last one boy put their thoughts into words by asking if the white man
was speaking the truth; because, said he: “We have always believed that
you white folk live underneath the sea.”

“Why do you think that?” laughingly asked the white man.

“For two very good reasons,” asserted the boy, rather aggressively. He
did not like being laughed at before all the others, for he was only
stating what they all believed.

“State your reasons,” said the white man kindly, for he saw that the boy
was hurt by his laughter.

Encouraged thus, the boy said: "When we stand on the shore at
Ambrezette, or at any other of the trading-stations on the sea-coast, we
see the ships come in, and what do we notice first? Not the big part of
the ship at the bottom (the hull), but the stick at the top (the mast),
and when the ship has discharged all its goods on the beach, and filled
up again with palm-oil, rubber, ivory, palm-kernels and peanuts, it goes
away, and the part that we see last is the topmost post. Of course it
comes up out of the sea. That is why we first notice the top of the
‘stick,’ and it goes down into the sea; that is why the top of the
‘stick’ is last seen."

“Yes, that is very good! What is your second reason?” asked the white
man.

“The second reason is this: all we people who live on the earth have
curly hair; but all you white folk, because you live under the sea, have
straight hair. That is because the action of the water has taken all the
curl out of your hair.”

The white man with much difficulty suppressed his laughter, and
proceeded to give them a simple lesson on the rotundity of the earth.
They had all seen eclipses of the moon, and starting from that fact, and
using his candle and various articles on the table as his apparatus, he
tried to show them that only round objects threw round shadows on the
wall of the adjacent house. They were interested, and pretended to be
convinced, but how many of them went to bed that night still believing
in the flatness of the earth he never knew.

Then came a series of questions, not prompted by impertinence, but by a
healthy and natural curiosity. Questions such as: “Is there plenty of
food in your country? How many wives have you in Mputu? Were you once as
little as our babies? Have you a mother, father, brothers and sisters?
Did they turn you out of your country because you are a bad man? How do
you make matches? Who makes the cloth and the different articles we see
in the traders’ stores? How do you make candles, soap, boots, and from
what are they made? Why are you white and we black?” The white man
patiently answered these questions to the best of his ability; but I
noticed that whenever possible he worked his answers round to God’s
palaver--he told them how a thing was made, that they themselves could
make it, and would, by this time, have found out how to make it, only
their witch-doctors taught them that anything new, anything out of the
ordinary, anything that showed skill, was the result of witchcraft, and
hence they killed off their wise and clever men; and lastly, "God’s
palaver, when it enters the heart, sets them free from all their
superstitious fear of the _ngangas_, and gives true wisdom and
guidance."

It was now far into the night, and Satu was about to rise when the white
man said: “It is very late, and I have attempted to answer your many
questions. Now I am going to ask you all as a favour to stay while we
have prayers.”

Satu very courteously thanked the white man for taking so much trouble
and for telling them so many wonderful things. They would willingly stay
to prayers and listen while the white man talked to God; but “Excuse us
now, we are tired, and must go to sleep.” The white man looked sadly
disappointed, but bade us “to go and sleep well.”

As we were returning to our quarters some one asked Satu: “Why did you
not stay for prayers?”

“I was afraid the white man’s God would bewitch me; or that the white
man himself might do so,” answered Satu. That night Bakula could not
sleep, but frequently I heard him murmur: “He dressed my wound with the
same hand I tried to strike.”

During the next morning Bakula and a few of the young men went to greet
the white man, whom they found busy washing and dressing sores, and
dispensing medicine to the sick. Bakula shyly went forward to have his
wound dressed, and when it was finished the white man asked his name;
but Bakula, filled with fear, gave his Santu name[35]--Dom Pedro. “No, I
don’t want your Santu,” said the white man, “but your proper name. Do
you still distrust me? Never mind, tell me when you know me better.”

Footnote 35:

  See note 30, p. 350.

“I will tell you now,” he replied. “I will not doubt you any more. My
name is Bakula.”

When the white man had finished his medical work we all sat down for
another talk, and I noticed that Bakula sat very close to his white
friend’s chair, and hesitatingly he put the following question: “You
tell us your country is very beautiful; that there is plenty to eat;
that your parents and brothers and sisters are living there; that you
were not turned out for being a bad man. Why, therefore, have you come
to this country, with its rough roads, its swamps, and its fevers?”

Then the white man unfolded before Bakula and his companions the
wonderful story of Jesus Christ, from the time He left heaven on His
mission of Redemption, until He returned to heaven the Author of eternal
salvation. The audience listened attentively to this delightfully
strange story, and Bakula, looking up, exclaimed in surprised tones--

“Why, Jesus Christ was just like you! He left all for us, the same as
you have done.”

The white man was strangely and deeply moved as he replied--

“No, Jesus Christ did not copy me, but I try day by day to imitate Him.
It is for His sake, Bakula, that I forgave you, and have tried to return
good for evil, love for hate, and am willing to die that you all may
hear and believe in His great salvation.”

After a little more conversation they separated, Bakula and his friends
returning to their huts solemnized, for a time, by what they had seen
and heard; and the white man, calling a few of his lads, went, with his
medicines and his message of God’s love, to spend a few hours in a
neighbouring village.




                              Chapter XII
                       Native Games and Pastimes

Make-believe games--“Biti” and needle--Game with canna seeds--Hoop
    game--“Mbele,” or Knife game--The story of “The Four Wonders,” or a
    puzzle story--Conundrums--“The Adventures of the Twins.”


After the first novelty of our visit had passed away the women and girls
went daily, with dull regularity, to the farms; but only those men who
were obliged went to the markets for trading purposes, or to the forests
for building materials for their houses. The men and lads who were able
postponed, out of respect to their visitors, all those occupations that
would not suffer from delay, and gave themselves to games, asking
conundrums, and telling stories to entertain their visitors.

The children had their make-believe housekeeping, cooking, trading and
marketing; the older ones their mimic wars, their mock hunts and their
pretended palavers. The small girls had their sticks, or pieces of
cassava roots, to represent dolls,[36] and they played with them as
such, carrying them tied by old rags to their backs, or on their hips as
their mothers had carried the children themselves when babies.

Footnote 36:

  See note 31, p. 350.

The small boys procured gourds, old tins, reeds and small drums, and
imitated a band, and they made about as much music by their efforts as
their elders discoursed from ivory trumpets and well-made drums. With
bits of sticks, reeds and grass they made toy houses with mud walls; and
with pieces of broken saucepans, old tins and any odds and ends they
could borrow from their mothers’ houses, they furnished themselves with
the necessary articles for their pretend-game of housekeeping, receiving
visits from each other, and inviting one another to their make-believe
feasts. The older and more active lads played at hockey, on which they
expended a great amount of boisterous, if unskilful, energy; and the
quieter ones were very expert in using their fingers and toes in making
cat’s cradles of many and intricate designs.

Bakula was always selected to find the needle because of his quick ear,
whenever the following game was played with _biti_ and needle: The
players were divided into two sides, which we will call A and B. All the
players had a musical instrument called a _biti_, which is a kind of
_marimba_. Side A sent out one of its men, and secreted a needle in his
absence in full view of side B, which the one sent out had to find
guided only by side B playing simultaneously an agreed-upon note. Side B
decided what the guiding note should be.

On the return of the needle-seeker, side B began to play their _biti_,
and when the needle-seeker approached near the hiding-place of the
needle, the guiding note was played, and as he receded from it the
guiding note was left out of the tune.

The needle-seeker had not only to find the needle, but also to name the
guiding note. If he found the needle, it counted one game to his side,
and either he or another on side A went out again. When he failed in his
search then it counted one game to side B, and one on that side went
out.

Of course the _biti_ players tried to hide the guiding note by playing
rapidly, and covering it with variations on the other metal reeds. A
quick ear to catch the repetition, or the absence of a particular note
was necessary for this game.

[Illustration: 1. SCHOOLBOYS PLAYING HOCKEY.]

[Illustration: 2. AT THE GIANT STRIDE.]

[Illustration: 3. GYMNASTICS.]

One day Bakula stopped to watch the following game that was being played
by some lads. The beautiful, round, black seeds of the canna plant,
which grows wild in most parts of Congo, are called _loso_, and that is
also the name of the game. These seeds are about the size of peas.

The players are divided into two sides, which for clearness we will call
A and B, and they form a circle as they sit on the ground. Side A plays
first, and the thrower takes about twenty seeds in each hand. He throws
them out from his hands alternately, counting, as he throws, one, two,
three, and so on up to ten, and the rest he throws helter-skelter over
the cleared space in front of him, yet in such a way as not to
disarrange the positions of the first ten seeds thrown; but he tries to
do it as indifferently as he possibly can.

Now before beginning to throw the seeds, side A has agreed among
themselves that seed number _five_ shall be the playing seed; so the
seeds having been thrown, one lad on the side A withdraws out of sight
and hearing. Then if side B has spotted the playing seed _five_, they
pick it up and say: “That is the seed, and its number is _five_.” That
counts as one game to them. If, however, they have not spotted the right
seed and pick up the wrong one, then a lad on side A touches the right
seed, and the one who left the circle is called back and picks up the
seed that was touched by the player on his side. That then counts as one
game to them--to side A. Any touching or picking up of the wrong seed by
a player is counted as a game to the other side.

Supposing that side A says that seed _five_, which side B touched, is
not the playing seed, then side B removes it, and one on side A to carry
on the cheat touches, say, seed _eight_, then the lad who left is
recalled and, of course, he finds seed _five_ is gone, and should he try
to help the cheating by picking up another seed he must declare its
number, and there is every probability that he will not by chance pick
up seed _eight_, and also declare the same number as the boy who touched
it.

To find out the right seed and number the opponents have to watch the
throwing for any hesitation at a particular number, or to see if a seed
is purposely thrown to one side; they have to listen for any emphasis on
a particular number, and also watch the eyes of their opponents to see
if they are all looking towards one particular seed.

Again, the lad who leaves the circle must carry away with him a clear
plan of how the seeds lay, so that he may be sure of picking up the
right one, as any blunder made counts as a game to the other side.

The boys of the town had another game of which they were very fond. It
was played with a hoop, and each player had a string two or three yards
long and weighted at each end. Sides were arranged which had to take
their stand in “towns” from twenty to twenty-five yards apart. The hoop
is trundled from side A towards side B, and as it approaches side B all
the players on that side throw their weighted strings (or toy bolases)
at it so as to entangle it, and the boy whose “bolas” entangles the hoop
picks up one end of his string and swings the hoop round and round his
head as he walks with it towards side A. Should he deposit it in their
town without dropping the hoop from the bolas, it counts one game to
side B. If the hoop is either not entangled, or drops while being
whirled, the game counts to the other side, _i. e._ to side A. Sometimes
the winner is challenged to whirl the hoop near the ground and to jump
over it while spinning without its touching the ground.

If two or more strings entangle the hoop, then the boys owning those
strings must carry the hoop between them. The hoop must on no
consideration be touched by the hands of those on side B, unless no
string entangles it, when it is thrown back to side A and counts as one
game to them. After a set of twenty games the other side trundles the
hoop. A modification is made in the game by throwing the hoop in the
air.

The next game that I observed, and the last that I shall describe, is
called _Mbele_ (or Knife). It is played either by the hands and arms, or
feet and legs, or by moving the knees only. The players form a line, and
the first lad in the line is called “King.” The “King” when he begins
the game faces the lad who stood next to him, and throws out both his
hands, draws them back to his breast, waves them in front of himself
parallel with his breast, and after making several feints he shoots out
one hand. If the lad standing in opposition to him is able to meet the
“thrust” three times by throwing out the corresponding hand, the “King”
has to take his place at the bottom of the line. If, however, no one in
the line is able to meet the “thrust” after three tries, then the last
lad in the line is called a “slave,” and stands out of the game.

The “King,” who is generally an expert player, will sometimes go up and
down the line until all the players are “slaves” and he wins. Should the
“King” be out in going down the line, then when all become “slaves” to
another he has the privilege of winning them back, if he can, from the
last one in by playing him.

There are many modifications in the game. The movements are very rapid
and cause a great amount of amusement, and help to train the eyes and
render the limbs very supple.

Among other games played were “touch,” a kind of “hunt the slipper,”
with a palm-nut as the “slipper”; “tipit” was also played by the boys
sitting in a ring and passing a palm-nut from one to another, and the
lad in the centre had to catch the boy who really had the nut and they
changed places. Hopping the longest on one leg, throwing into a hole,
and backgammon were also in vogue at times. A popular game with small
boys was to hide a canna seed in one of five little heaps of dirt, and
the opponent had to sweep away the four heaps that did not contain the
seed and leave untouched the one heap that hid it. Each success counted
as a game to the winner, and every failure as a game to the other side.

A never-ending source of amusement for dark nights when they gathered
round their fires in the streets, or for cold, rainy nights when they
sat in their houses was to be found in their puzzle stories and
conundrums. In nearly every town and village were expert story-tellers
and propounders of riddles, who were deservedly the recipients of much
local praise and fame for their voluntary efforts to entertain their
neighbours.

Tonzeka’s town was no exception. Almost every evening, after the meal
was over, one or other of these skilled reciters would be called on for
a story.

One evening the following wonderful deeds were related, and aroused a
great amount of discussion. I must preface this story by saying: The
Congo natives think that anything wonderful, anything out of the
ordinary injures their social and domestic life, or, as they say,
“spoils their country,” and is consequently to be condemned and
punished. Hence the appeal in this story from one to another to decide
who had performed the most extraordinary feat, and was, therefore,
worthy of the greatest blame.

The narrator called it

                    “The Story of the Four Wonders.”

"A woman gave birth to a child, who on the day it was born went by
itself down to the river to bathe. While there a hunter arrived, who
fired his gun.

"‘What are you firing at?’ asked the baby. ‘I am shooting the mosquitoes
that are eating my wife’s cassava,’[37] replied the hunter.

"‘Whoever heard of such a thing before?’ said the baby. ‘By shooting
mosquitoes you are injuring the country.’

"The hunter denied this grave charge, and accused the baby of upsetting
the proper order of things by bathing himself on the very day he was
born.

"After much discussion they submitted the case to a chief of a
neighbouring town. When he had listened to their wrangling, he said: ‘My
mouth is locked up in that room, and my wives have taken the key with
them to the farms.’

"‘Oh,’ they rejoined, ‘you, by talking when your mouth is fastened up in
another room, have destroyed our country, for whoever heard of such a
wonder before?’

"After much debate away they went to find some one to settle the matter
for them, and by and by they met a man who climbed palm-trees to tap
them for palm-wine, and they put the case to him, each accusing the
other of disarranging the proper order of earthly ways.

"When they had finished the palm climber said: ‘I fell one day from the
top of a palm-tree and broke to pieces, and then I went into the town to
procure men to carry all my pieces back to my house.’ They thereupon
fell on him, accusing him of spoiling the country by his wonderful feat.
They are still arguing out the matter and cannot agree as to which is
worthy of the greatest blame."

Footnote 37:

  Equal to saying: “I am shooting at the gnats that are eating up the
  turnips.”

At the conclusion each actor in this tale of wonders had his staunch
adherents among the little crowd of listeners. Some contended that the
baby had performed the most wonderful feat, and was therefore to be
greatly blamed. Others stood by the hunter, for “whoever before had
heard of shooting mosquitoes?”

“Did you ever hear of a man talking with his mouth locked up in another
room?” aggressively asked a backer of that wonder.

“You are all wrong,” shouted a big fellow with a loud voice, “the man
who broke to pieces and yet went for carriers to convey the pieces into
his town did something that surpassed all the other marvellous deeds.”

Feeling ran high, words were bandied about, innuendoes respecting the
sad lack of sense that some folk exhibited were freely exchanged; but
during a lull in the throwing of wordy missiles, Bakula said: “I heard a
riddle the other day to which you cannot give me the answer.”

“What is it?” asked several, and the noisy discussion on the wonders
ceased at once, and all eyes turned on Bakula.

“_Our master sleeps behind the thorns. What is it?_” he asked, and there
was a twinkle of fun in his eye as he propounded the conundrum to them.

One guessed one thing and another something else, and a poor henpecked
man suggested it was a woman behind her hoes; but he was instantly
annihilated by the remark that if he were bossed by his wives they were
not.

They at last called on Bakula to give the solution, and he said, “_Our
master sleeps behind the thorns is our tongue behind the teeth_,” and he
saucily continued: “If you don’t let it sleep there you will soon be
fighting.”

They rated him good-humouredly for his insolence, and pretended to punch
him as a punishment; but promised to let him go if he would state
another riddle.

Bakula, on recovering his breath, asked the following conundrum: “_There
are three men carrying a dead one in their teeth.[38] What is it?_” To
this a man instantly gave the answer: “_A ridge pole held by three king
posts._”

Footnote 38:

  The “forks” cut on upright posts to hold the cross poles are called in
  Congo _meno_, i. e. teeth.

The guesser of Bakula’s riddle then gave one as follows: “_The slave my
father bought on the market is always standing out (or away) from him._”
After many guesses had been ventured, Bakula gave the proper one, viz.
“_Pipe_” which always stands out (or away) from the smoker.

Bakula had now to give another riddle, and propounded the following one:
“_The bird with its head cut off eats up all the food. What is it?_”
After many wild, unsuccessful attempts one of the men guessed the
answer, viz. “_Mortar._”[39] The man who gave this correct solution
belonged to Tonzeka’s town, and as he said he did not know any
conundrums he was asked to give them a story instead, and to this
request, after a little hesitation, he acceded by narrating the
following tale, called

                     “The Adventures of the Twins.”

“Mr. Tungi built some houses and then married. When he had been married
about a year he started on a journey to some distant markets to buy and
trade in peanuts. He had not been gone very long when Mrs. Tungi gave
birth to male twins.

“When the twins had grown into stout lads their mother told them that
their father had gone to trade at some distant markets, but would be
returning soon to his town. They at once decided to go and meet him.
Their mother prepared some native bread and other food, and in a few
days they set out in search of their father.

“After travelling a long way they met a palm-wine gatherer sitting in a
palm-frond drinking-shelter, who welcomed them and promised to get them
some fresh palm-wine. He took his climbing-hoop and together they went
to the palm-tree. Before ascending the tree the twins were astonished to
see the man take out all his bones and lay them on one side, and then he
climbed the tree and brought down a small calabash of palm-wine for the
boys, picked up his bones and put them all back again in their places.
The lads asked him why he removed his bones before ascending the
palm-tree.

“‘Oh,’ he said, ‘if I were to fall I should break them, so I always
leave my bones on the ground, and then, should I fall, nothing will be
broken.’ They drank his palm-wine, thanked him, and after resting a
while started again on their journey.

“They had not travelled very far when they met two men walking towards
them whose feet were turned backwards. The twins asked them what
accident had twisted their feet in that way.

“They replied: ‘It is no accident, but we turn our feet round when
travelling to keep our naked toes from knocking against the stones in
the road.’

“The twins had hardly recovered from their surprise when they came
across some men whose knees were behind, and others whose arms were at
the back, and others again whose faces were at the back of their heads.

“They inquired the reason for these strange things, and the first said:
‘We have our knees at the back of our legs so that when we fall they
will not be cut by the stones.’

“The next replied: ‘We have our arms behind us so that if we fall
backwards they will hold us up, and we shall not hurt ourselves.’

“And the last laughingly said: ‘Oh, we have our faces behind our heads
so that the long grass by the sides of the roads will neither cut them
nor get into our eyes as we push our way through it.’

“‘Well, this is a funny country,’ cried the twins in amazement, ‘people
seem to do whatever they like with their bodies.’

“On they went again, and during the afternoon they reached the bank of a
river, where they rested under a shady tree. While sitting there they
saw men and women, boys and girls coming down the hill to bathe, and
they noticed that all of them took out their eyes before they entered
the water and left them on the bank with their clothes. They inquired
the reason for this wonderful thing, and one of the men said: ‘You see,
we bathe here with our mothers, wives and sisters--men and women, boys
and girls altogether, hence to retain our self-respect and modesty we
always take out our eyes before bathing.’ The twins were no longer
astonished at anything they saw and heard, so they silently assented to
what the man told them.

“They camped by the river that night, and early next morning renewed the
search for their father. After three or four hours’ travelling over the
hills, across streams and through dense forests, they arrived at a large
market, where all the people, instead of speaking, were making signs to
one another as they bought and sold their goods. Upon looking at them
more closely they observed that none of them had lower jaws, hence they
were not able to speak. They could not inquire into this wonder, as no
one was able to talk to them.

“They pushed on across the market, and after walking another hour or two
they reached a large river, where they saw a man, with a very heavy
load, trying to cross it, and seeing he was in great difficulty they
helped him over with his load, and then sat down to have a rest and
chat. They told the man they were twin sons of Tungi, and were looking
for their father, who left his town many years ago to trade in the
distant markets.

“The man said: ‘Why, I am Tungi, you must be my sons, and I am just
returning to my town.’

“The sons rejoiced in this meeting with their father, and were glad they
had helped him over the river, otherwise they would not have known him.
They divided the load between them, and soon started for home.

“As the twins walked with their father, they told him of all they had
seen and heard during their journey, but they said: ‘In the market we
passed this morning we saw people who did all their trading by signs,
because they had no lower jaws. Why was that?’

“Their father replied: ‘On the markets in this country there was so much
rowing, quarrelling and fighting that they made a law that all those who
went to market should leave their lower jaws at home; for if folk cannot
talk they won’t quarrel, and hence they will have no reason for
fighting. It is talking and wrangling that lead to rows, riots and
fights.’

“The twins and their father reached their town again safely, where they
were noisily welcomed and feasted; and the twins frequently narrated the
marvellous sights they had seen during their travels.”

Footnote 39:

  The _mortar_ is used for pounding maize, dried cassava, plantains,
  etc. To the native familiar with the whole process it was a good
  conundrum.

[Illustration: _Photo_]     BUSY WASHING.     [_Rev. F. Aldrieve._]

[Illustration: _Photo_]     RESTING AFTER WASHING.     [_Rev. F.
Aldrieve._]




                              Chapter XIII
                     Bakula accompanies an Embassy

A title reverts to Satu--He sends Old Plaited-Beard to the King with a
    present--The embassy arrives at the King’s town--Has an audience in
    the King’s house--King promises to send a deputy to install
    Satu--King dines with the white man and sees a magic lantern--Bakula
    and the white man renew their acquaintance--He sleeps on the mission
    station and hears all about the King’s household.


Just as Satu’s visit to Tonzeka was drawing to a close, his departure
was hastened by the death of a chief who had bought a life interest in a
title that belonged to Satu’s family.

It was the custom for a wealthy person to buy of the King the title, we
will say, of Tulante, for one slave and five thousand strings of blue
pipe beads. If, on his death, his heir is not rich enough to support the
title, or for some reason does not want it, he can, with the consent of
the King, sell it to another chief for that chief’s lifetime. When this
second buyer dies his heir cannot take the title unless he has the
permission of the family originally holding it, and for that permission
he must pay, and the King cannot confer it without the consent of the
said family. In fact, the title reverts to the family that _first bought
it of the King_, and the head of that family can resume it, or pass it
on as a life title to any other family. Whenever the title is conferred
either on the proper heir to it or on the life buyer of it, the King
always receives a large present from the recipient. It is one of the
sources of his income. This custom apparently applies only to certain
titles of which there can only be one holder at any given time.

The title that belonged to Satu’s family was Katendi,[40] and as Satu’s
brother was too poor to take the title when it fell to him, he had sold
a life interest in it to a more wealthy neighbouring chief.

Footnote 40:

  _Katendi Katendwa nzala o makanda mamene_, i. e. Katendi’s
  finger-nails must not be cut, or his clan will die out: in other
  words, he must fight to the last, and not submit to humiliations.

Satu was now ambitious to resume the title, so he sent an embassy to
request the King to confer the title on him, and to commission the
proper court officer to act as his delegate. Satu sent as a present to
the King twenty pieces of very good cloth containing twelve yards each,
three goats, one large pig, and four barrels of gunpowder.[41] Old
Plaited-Beard, who was a man of importance in our town, was deputed to
give the various articles to his majesty, and ten men and lads
accompanied him to carry and guard the goods.

Footnote 41:

  The whole present was worth about £10 at that time.

After a few days’ journey we arrived at Congo dia Ngunga, which is
situated on a broad plateau some 450 feet above the surrounding country.
Along one side of the hill winds the Mposo river, on two other sides the
hill falls abruptly to wide valleys, and the fourth side undulates
gradually down to the town, where we spent our last night on the road
and where we “dressed” for our entry into the King’s town.

We arrived about the middle of the morning, and Old Plaited-Beard sent
at once to beg for an audience with the King. He replied that we might
come in the afternoon, for he undoubtedly heard from the messenger what
a fine present we were bringing him.

While we were waiting for the call to the King’s house, the elders of
our party rested in a hut belonging to one of the King’s head men, and
exchanged the gossip of the country with him; but Bakula paid a visit to
his friend the white man, who had a station there, and was very
cordially welcomed by him.

Bakula was shown over the house, the school, the medicine-store and
other places, and made to feel perfectly at home. He visited the boys’
house, and quickly struck up an acquaintance with two or three lads. He
asked them innumerable questions, pried into every possible nook and
corner, and finally concluded that Tonzeka was right and Old
Plaited-Beard wrong. Before hurrying back to his party he bade good-bye
to the white man, and was asked to come and spend a day or two with him
when his business with the King was completed. This he readily promised
to do.

About the middle of the afternoon a messenger called us to the King.
Bakula at once picked up the twenty pieces of cloth, which were wrapped
in a blanket, and followed Old Plaited-Beard, who strutted grandly in
front filled with an enormous sense of his own importance. The others
came on behind, and the goats and the pig brought up the rear.

We made our way towards the middle of the town, where the King’s
_lumbu_, or enclosure, was situated. We passed between fences to the
“judging place,” or _mbaji a Kongo_, in the centre of the town, where a
huge, wide-spreading tree stood, beneath the shadows of which all
important palavers were held. Crossing this “town square,” we came to
the first entrance of the King’s _lumbu_, which was a miniature maze, as
we had to negotiate four fences before arriving at the central space
where the King’s house stood.

On entering the first opening, we turned to the left, then right, then
right again, and found another opening in the fence; then by turning
again to the right we worked our way back to a position near the first
opening, where we found the third opening in the third fence, then
turning to the left and again to the right, there was the opening
leading into the courtyard immediately in front of the King’s house.
There we waited and sent the messenger to tell the King we had reached
the last entrance.

After standing there a short time we received permission to advance, and
found ourselves in an open space about fifteen by twenty yards in
extent, with the front door of the “palace” before us. Old Plaited-Beard
and those who were unencumbered with the presents fell upon their knees,
stretched their bodies forward in a profound bow, put their palms
together, rubbed their little fingers in the dust, which they smeared on
their foreheads and temples, and then clapped their hands three
times--not by hitting the palms together, but by arching their hands.

After this obeisance they arose to their feet and walked to the front of
the house, where they fell again on their knees and repeated the former
ceremony of homage. Again rising they entered the house, and advancing
to within two or three yards of the King they fell on their knees and
performed the third and last act of their homage.

The King showed his acceptance of the homage by putting the palms of his
hands across each other in such a way that the fingers of the right hand
were placed well above the thumb and index finger of the left, and he
waved the extended fingers up and down. If the King had not received our
homage thus, but had thrust out his foot and wriggled his toes, the
sooner we had retreated from his presence and returned to our town the
better it would have been for us. It would have been a sign that the
King was angry with us, wished to insult us, and was meditating
mischief.

As native houses go the King’s “palace” was large, being about eighteen
feet wide by twenty-five feet long. The walls were of planks, and the
roof of grass. Along one wall was a high, wide shelf covered with ewers,
basins, decanters, china images of dogs, men, and women gaudily
coloured, jugs, plates, and common vases--the profits of trading and
presents from chiefs and others. Beneath the shelf were various trunks,
undoubtedly full of trade cloth and other treasures.

I afterwards heard that the King’s bedroom was next to the one we were
in, and beyond that the houses for his twenty-five wives.

We found the King sitting on a low seat covered with blankets, rugs and
pillows. His full title was Dom Pedro V, Ntotela, Ntinu a Kongo, _i. e._
Dom Pedro V, Emperor, King of Congo. His personal name was Elelo, and I
afterwards learned that his sobriquet was: Weni w’ezulu, or, The Great
One of Heaven.

The King received us very graciously and inquired about Satu and the
town, about trade and the number of people. Old Plaited-Beard answered
cautiously, for it was not wise to give too much information to his
majesty. He then told the King that Satu wished to have conferred on him
his family title of Katendi, which his uncle had bought some years
previously of his majesty. Then without waiting for an answer, our
leader beckoned Bakula to come forward with the present. With
considerable nervousness my owner stepped into the space before the
King, fell on his knees and paid homage as he had seen the others do,
and, removing the covering, he presented, on his knees, the cloth piece
by piece to the august personage, who counted the pieces, felt the
texture and commented with satisfaction on the weight and quality of
each piece.

The powder, pig and goats were next presented, and he was asked with
proper expressions of humility to accept the “poor gift.” This he
deigned to do, and promised that on a certain day he would send his
Kapitau to install Satu officially in his title of Katendi.

We then retired backward out of the house, kneeling and paying homage at
the right places, and at last found ourselves winding through the maze
of fences into the town, well pleased with our reception and impressed
with the greatness and dignity of the King.

Soon after our return to our quarters we received a present of some food
from the King, and heard that one head man had been instructed to look
after our welfare during the visit.

Just before sunset there was a great stir in the town, and Bakula,
running in the direction of the noise, was in time to see the King leave
his _lumbu_. He was about six feet four inches in height, very stout,
being sixty-eight inches[42] round the waist, his face badly pitted with
the small-pox, and he was ungainly and awkward in his movements by
reason of his obesity. He was dressed in a loin-cloth of many yards of
purple velvet, a scarlet waistcoat with bright buttons adorned his
capacious stomach, and a general’s coat covered his back. On his head
was a cockade, and from a belt hung a large and heavy sword, which he
removed and handed to one of his men to carry.

Footnote 42:

  See note 32, p. 351.

In the square before his _lumbu_ were six of his head men, with a
hammock gay with bright-coloured cloths. It was rarely now that the King
left his _lumbu_, hence there was a large crowd to witness the unusual
sight. It was with difficulty that he mounted his hammock, and it needed
the combined strength of the six _doms_, or head men, to support him in
it.

Fortunately they had not far to carry him--about 150 yards, and they
landed him safely but perspiring at the door of the mission-house, to
which Bakula and the crowd followed him.

The white man, who had invited the King to dine with him that evening,
received his majesty at the door, and after shaking hands with him and
inquiring after his health, led him to a substantial sofa that stood in
the corner of the central room.

The crowd stood around the door, for the head men allowed only a few in
attendance on the King to enter. To my owner’s eyes it was a large
dining-room, and from the door one commanded a view of the whole of it.

There in the centre stood a large table with a white cloth spread over
it. On each side a place was laid with knives and forks for one person.
From the roof a lamp was suspended that threw a light over the whole
room and revealed the various things on the table, such as some bread,
biscuits, jugs of water, and a bottle of lime-juice.

The table being already laid, the boys quickly brought from the kitchen
some soup, sweet potatoes, native greens, a tin of fish, one boiled
fowl, a piece of boiled pork, a sucking pig roasted whole, a rice
pudding and some stewed native fruit. A native likes to know what he is
expected to eat, and the King could not have read a menu if there had
been one. A smile of complacent anticipation covered the King’s broad
face as his eyes and nose were greeted by the appearance of the roasted
sucking pig.

All being ready, the white man invited the King to take his seat at the
table. The old man waddled over to the chair, and when he had seated
himself, his five favourite wives took up a position on the ground round
the back of his chair, while the head men arranged themselves along the
wall. The white man took his seat opposite the King, and having said
Grace, helped his majesty to soup.

The old man took a few spoonfuls and handed the rest down to his wives,
who, with suppressed giggling, finished it. Fish followed, and what the
King did not eat he passed on to his wives.

The white man said: “In England when boys and girls are going to a feast
they eat very little during the day, so as to do full justice to the
feast provided for them.”

“Is that so?” replied the King. “I did not know that was your custom,
for,” he laughingly continued, “I have eaten nothing all day in order to
have plenty of room for your dinner.” And the old man chuckled because
he was ’cuter than the white boys, for he had eaten _nothing_.

A plate piled with boiled pork, fowl and vegetables was next handed to
the visitor. He worked his way through about half of it, and passed down
the remainder to his waiting wives, who finished it with gusto.

Then came that roasted sucking pig. Generous slices of it were laid on a
plate--no, he did not want vegetables. The meat soon disappeared, and
there was nothing but a bone or two this time to hand down to the women.

The white man, sympathizing with their disappointment, asked the King to
have some more. Another large portion was placed upon his plate--yes, he
would have some vegetables this time. The meat vanished again--it was
quite true, the King had eaten nothing surely for a Congo week. The
plate was loaded a third time with the tasty pork, and the King was at
last beaten, for with a sigh he handed more than half a plateful down to
his expectant wives, among whom it was quickly shared and eaten.

“Would the King have some rice pudding and stewed guavas?” was the next
question. A look of reproach passed across his majesty’s face, as much
as to say: “Why do you have such common things on such an important
occasion?” But he was too courteous to give expression to his thoughts,
and asked for “a little, very little.”

One of the wives, however, lifted her head and formed her mouth into the
word “Plenty,” and plenty it was that found its way to the King’s plate.
He toyed with it a few moments, and his wives cleared the remainder.

The feast was over. The white man told his boys to share the remnants
with the head men and the King’s wives, “for it is not every day that
the King dines with us,” and to clear the table as quickly as possible.

While the boys were busy clearing away in a double sense, the King
informed his host of the prowess of his early years, when he was lithe
and active, and was feared throughout all the district for his fighting
qualities. It was then that he won the nickname of Weni w’ezulu, _i. e_.
the Great One of Heaven.

No sooner were the remains of the feast removed than the white man put a
black thing on the table and lit it. It was a magic lantern. A white
sheet was lowered from the roof, and the light from the lantern turned
upon it, while the lamp that illuminated the room was put out.

This caused the King to express some nervous fears, but a few quiet
words from the white man pacified him. It appeared that the white man
had often given lantern exhibitions in the open air, because there was
no building large enough to contain the crowds that came to see the
wonderful pictures; and as the sheet was put for convenience of erection
over the front of one of the houses, and the breezes caused the sheet to
gently move, the natives said: “The spirits came out of the house and
moved about on the sheet.”

The King had heard of these suspicious rumours, and as he could not
mingle with the crowds, he had asked the white man for a show all to
himself. Hence the invitation to dinner and the magic lantern display.

Before exhibiting the pictures the white man referred to this silly
talk, and excused it because the people did not know any better. He
raised the sheet and showed the King the solid stone wall, explained the
working of the lantern, gave the King one of the slides, and told him
how the picture was thrown by the strong light on to the sheet.

After much persuasion the King put his fingers in front of the lens and
saw them magnified on the sheet. He snapped his fingers and saw the
movements imitated and enlarged, and at last was quite sure there was no
wickedness or witchcraft about the whole affair.

The white man now threw some pictures of London on the sheet and
explained them, and they needed a lot of explanation. The tall
houses--room above room; the Queen’s palace and her soldiers; the big
houses where the judges sat day after day--“It must be a wicked country
where so many judges have to hear cases every day”; the horses and
vehicles, and the people--“The people! Why, they are as numerous in your
roads as driver-ants!”[43]

Footnote 43:

  See note 33, p. 351.

The white man then showed a few pictures of the life of Christ, and with
a few words of prayer brought the visit to a close.

The King, somewhat solemnized by what he had last seen and heard,
thanked the white man for the dinner and the pictures, and, getting into
his hammock, was carried by his six stalwart head men back to his house.

Bakula, my owner, had received, by permission of the white man, an
invitation from one of the elder school lads to sleep in the mission
dormitory. Consequently, after the King’s departure, he made his way to
the boys’ house and was vociferously greeted by his new friends, some of
whom were with the white man when he was driven from Satu’s town. The
house he entered was about twenty feet long by fifteen feet wide. It
possessed several luxuries, such as a door and windows that moved on
hinges, an oil lantern hanging from the roof, and beds raised about two
feet above the ground.

Bakula had been greatly impressed by his visit to the King, of whom he
had heard much, but had never seen until that day. After the first
greetings were over he began to ply his new friends with many questions
about the King, and as a son and a nephew of the King were among the
school-lads, he had his curiosity more than satisfied by what he was
able to learn from them. He was told that many chiefs sent their sons to
be brought up at the court of the King, and thus they were able to learn
the ceremonies of the court etiquette in receiving visitors, and how to
settle palavers. These lads waited on the King, were his errand boys on
small occasions, and finished the food he left after they had served him
at table.

Attached to the King’s court were several functionaries, as follows:
_Kapitau_ was a noble whose function it was to confer titles on others
as the representative of the King, who, being too old and obese to
travel with comfort the long, hilly roads, sent this officer in his
stead, as the chiefs could only be ennobled in their own towns.

_Nelumbu_ was the title of another court officer, who was supposed never
to leave the King’s _lumbu_, or enclosure. He was a kind of master of
ceremonies, or a chamberlain, and instructed the ignorant how to
approach the King. After him came _Nempangu_, who carried the staff of
the King (from _mpangu_, staff). This officer went on embassies for his
master to chiefs and towns, taking the King’s staff with him as a token
of his authority, and a proof that he had come from the King. Then there
was _Nembila_ (from _mbila_, summons, call), who was the King’s
messenger, and was sent to summon chiefs and others to the King’s
presence and to inform the people of his majesty’s wishes and commands.
_Nejinguzioka_ (or “one who walks about”) was an officer who always
stayed by the King, to wait on him and carry out those important orders
that could not be entrusted to the lads or pages who served the King.
_Neloto_ (from _loto_, spoon) was lowest in rank about the court, and
was simply the spoon-bearer--probably a taster of the food before it was
given to his master.

Attached to the court, but outside of it, was a head man, whose special
duty it was to assess the tax on all trading caravans travelling through
the town or passing through the near district. He was also to some
extent responsible for the safe-conduct of caravans through that part of
the country of which the King was overlord. Of course the larger portion
of the amounts in kind received found their way to the King, otherwise
his life would have been of little worth. And, lastly, there was
_Nemfilantu_ (from _fila ntu_, to place the head), the noble best liked
by the King, the most trusted of his councillors, the one in whose “lap
he could rest his head.”

During his stay in the King’s town Bakula had all these high personages
shown to him. It was necessary to have them pointed out, as on ordinary
occasions they were dressed worse[44] than slaves and dependants, so as
to avoid arousing envy, jealousy, and accusations of witchcraft.

Footnote 44:

  See note 34, p. 352.




                              Chapter XIV
                    Bakula stays with the White Man

The working of a mission station--Buying food--The school--Bakula is
    afraid to enter the school--Repairing the station--Boys work in the
    gardens--A quarrel, and how it was settled--An evening’s chat with
    the white man--Rubbing evil spirits out of a man--Sunday
    service--Congregation--Sermon--Visit to a near town--Religious talk
    with the King--Boys pray for their white teacher--Witch-doctor’s
    trick exposed.


Next morning, at sunrise, Bakula was aroused by the sonorous tones of a
large bell, and running out of the house he found the white man pacing
slowly up and down the yard of the mission station, waiting for the
workmen to arrive. Bakula greeted his friend with a smile, and an
inquiry as to whether he had “slept well,”[45] and then stood on one
side to observe all that happened. Soon the workmen came, rubbing the
sleep out of their eyes, and the white man, checking them by his
note-book, sent some to cut and carry in bundles of thatching-grass,
others for fence sticks, and others for posts; three were sent for
papyrus[46] reeds from which to make native string for repairing the
fences running round the mission ground, and some were set to work on
the station.

Footnote 45:

  See note 35, p. 352.

Footnote 46:

  See note 36, p. 352.

Having started the men at their work, the white man sat down to his
breakfast. It was not like the dinner to which the King had been
invited, for it consisted of porridge, coffee, roasted plantain[47] and
eggs. During this time women and men were gathering with various
articles for sale, and as soon as the white man had finished his
breakfast he went out to barter for the different articles he needed.
Women with large baskets of _mfumfu_, or cassava flour, and peanuts went
with their goods to the door of a store directly the price was agreed
upon. Eggs were tested, and a string of a hundred blue pipe beads (worth
a farthing) was paid for each, fowls were bought at from ten to twenty
strings of beads each, according to size. Yams, sweet potatoes, greens,
and small native tomatoes were also purchased with either the ordinary
blue beads, which were the currency, or with red, olive, opal or any
other coloured beads that happened to be in stock and took the fancy of
the seller. Men with bamboos, mats, and planks bartered them for
different kinds of trade cloth; and those with goats sold them for
cloth, blankets, knives, cast-off soldiers’ coats, or large,
bright-coloured handkerchiefs. Then the white man hurried over to the
store, measured out the cassava flour and peanuts, and paid the women
according to quantity.

Footnote 47:

  See note 37, p. 352.

On our markets a great amount of time is wasted by haggling over
prices--the seller asking a ridiculous sum at first, and gradually
bringing it down to a half or third of the original demand. But I
noticed that the white man looked keenly at the article for sale, asked
the price, carefully considered for a few moments and then stated the
amount he would give, and the vender either assented to it at once, or
picked up his goods and left.

There was one man, a stranger, who had a goat for sale. The white man
examined it.

“How much?” he asked.

“Twenty-four fathoms of cloth,” replied the man.

The white man whistled, smiled, and said: “I will give you nine fathoms
for it, and that is a fair price.”

“Give me twenty fathoms. I can get that on the market,” avowed the man.

“Take it to the market, then,” advised the white man. “Let me see,” he
continued, “to-day is Nkenge market. You will not have far to go.” And
with that he walked on to the next.

A man standing by said to the goat-seller: "If you stay here all day he
won’t change his price. He has only ‘one mouth.’ On the market you may
get seven fathoms for the goat, but not more. You should accept the
offer."

He wisely acted on the advice, received his nine fathoms, and went away
with a truer conception of white men’s knowledge of the prices of native
goods, and delighted that he had sold his goat before the sun was very
high in the sky.

Just now I heard the big bell ring, and shortly after it was again rung
loudly, and the boys on the station and others from various parts of the
town went hurrying by into the school-house--a long building of mats,
posts, and thatch, built along one side of the courtyard. There were
about sixty boys of various ages present when the white man entered. He
led them in the singing of a hymn, talked to them a short time about
God’s palaver, and then they all bowed their heads in prayer.

After this he called out the names of the boys from his book, and
divided them into four lots: one group he set to write in books, another
received slates and pencils and wrote down and worked the sums that were
written on a blackboard, another set of boys sat round their white
teacher and read from books, and over in the corner was a class being
taught their letters by a native teacher.

Bakula was asked by the white man to enter the school, but my owner was
too fearful of what might happen to him--if he did--to accept the
invitation, and at the same time was so interested in all that he saw
and heard that he could not drag himself away from the door. He asked
and received permission to remain at his place of observation.

At intervals the white man walked round the station to see that the
workmen had not gone to sleep, or over to some young men who were
learning carpentry under the verandah of his house, and needed some
further instruction. Occasionally men came to the door of the school to
talk with the white man on matters of business or to seek his advice on
native palavers.

About the middle of the morning the white man gave a sign, and the boys
left the school helter-skelter for a short time of play. Hockey-sticks
were quickly brought out, and the station resounded with peals of
laughter and the shouts of those at play. Another sign and the boys
skurried back to the school-house, and were soon engaged in other
lessons. During the second school the white teacher gave a short talk on
physiology, and the boys listened to it with much attention, and asked
many questions. It surprised them to hear the number of bones in their
body, and the wonderful way in which they were made.

I noticed that the teacher spoke of the foolishness of believing that
witchcraft could affect the body, and showed how the witch-doctors
tricked, deceived and robbed them. They sang another hymn, and repeated
together what I afterwards learned to be the Lord’s Prayer, and the
school was concluded. The midday bell rang, the workmen stopped work,
the boys went to their house or to the town, and the white man had his
dinner and rested during the heat of the day.

In due time (2 p.m.) the bell sounded, and Bakula, full of curiosity and
interest, went to see what next the white man would do. He found him
standing at the door telling the workmen to continue with the repairs of
the fence, and allotting to the boys their work in the garden. At this
time about twenty boys lived on the station, some of whom came from
distant towns. All of them had their own work allotted to them: thus two
boys swept, cleaned, and did all the necessary work in the white man’s
house; one boy did the washing and ironing, another did the cooking; one
boy fetched firewood and water for the cook-house; two boys looked after
the goats, cut grass and fed them in the dry season; and one boy fetched
the water for the house from the beautiful spring that gurgled out of
the ground half-way down the hill-side. The rest of the boys worked on
the garden.

Bakula could understand boys working about the house, kitchen, and goats
of the white man; but he could not understand boys working on the land
like women and girls; and when he went to look at them, and found them
digging with hoes, he asked: “Why do you do this woman’s work? Are you
girls?”

“No,” they answered, “we are not girls. At one time we refused to work
in the garden, and told the white man that this kind of work was only
fit for women; but he came and worked with us day after day, and we
thought that the work a white man was not ashamed to do we black boys
should not be ashamed of. Since then we have worked as you see us.”

Bakula returned to the courtyard, and found the white man very busy
dressing sores, and dispensing medicine to the sick, after which he
accompanied him on a visit to various patients about the town who were
too ill to come to the dispensary. The rest of the afternoon the white
man spent with the carpenter lads, by whose aid he was building a large
store.

By sunset the white man looked fagged, and I think it was with a sigh of
relief that he drove the last nail for the day, and gave the order to
ring the stop-work bell. Just then loud shouts were heard, angry,
passionate words came on the air, and the white man, hurrying in the
direction of the sounds, found a big boy fighting a small one. He
instantly separated them, and turning on the big fellow upbraided him
for cowardice in striking a little boy, and charged him with breaking
one of the station laws in hitting one smaller than himself.

“He cursed me and was insolent,” aggressively answered the law-breaker
in defence of his action.

“Yes, I dare say he was cheeky,” said the judge; “but you know the rule
of this place is: All big boys that hit little boys must be punished
with the cane, and all small boys who curse and are insolent to their
elders must be brought to the white man for him to cane. There is only
one who punishes on this station, and that is myself. Is it not so?”

“Yes, that is the law,” they unanimously assented.

“I have told you repeatedly,” continued the white man, “that without
such a rule you cannot live happily here. The big ones among you would
constantly harry and make drudges of the little ones, and their lives
would become unbearable; and the younger ones, too, would irritate you
older ones with their curses and impudence. It is a good law, is it
not?”

“Yes, it is a good law,” they all agreed.

Thereupon the white man picked up a cane, and gave the law-breaker six
good strokes with it on his hands, and turning to the small boy, he
said: “If you get cursing or cheeking the other lads I will give you a
thrashing that you will not quickly forget.”

The boys trooped off to their house. And Bakula, as he accompanied the
lads, was surprised to hear no angry exclamations against the white man.
The majority acknowledged the rule to be a good one, and that the white
man was absolutely impartial in enforcing it.

During the evening my owner, together with eight or ten other lads, went
to have a chat with their white man. On entering his house we found him
reading a book and eating roasted peanuts. His evening meal was over,
and he was just reading and resting. On our arrival he smiled, and
putting down his book, at once began to chat with us. There had been a
discussion in the boys’ house as to which was the greatest country:
Portugal, Holland, or England,[48] and as the supporters of each were
about equally divided they had come to the white man to settle the
palaver for them. He listened to our questions, and taking down one of
his books, told us the size of each country, the number of people in
each, and the different kinds of articles made in each place. He then
told us a story he had just read, and asked us to tell him one of our
stories, which the oldest lad amongst us at once did, to our amusement.
It was now late, but before wishing our white friend “to sleep well,” we
all knelt in prayer and thanked the great God for His goodness, and
especially for the loving gift of His Son Jesus Christ.

Footnote 48:

  See note 38, p. 353.

The next day was Saturday, so the boys swept up the courtyard, and all
the various paths about the station, those also leading to the station
and the “town square.” Bakula entered heartily into the work of tidying
up the place, and by midday all the rubbish had been carried away and
burnt. The boys had the rest of the day for themselves--some visited
friends in the neighbourhood, others played hockey, one group went off
to the forest in search of wild fruits, and another went rat-hunting in
the farms and bush.

While Bakula was walking this afternoon through the town he saw a man
stretched on a mat with a fowl tied to his leg, and a witch-doctor
vigorously rubbing him. He was a sick man, and the “medicine man” had
told him to bring a fowl before he could attempt to cure him. The fowl
had been brought and a string had been tied from a leg of the fowl to a
leg of the outstretched patient.

The witch-doctor was now kneeling by the side of the sick man, rubbing
the evil spirit out of his arms into his body; then he chased it out of
the body over towards the leg to which the fowl was tied; he thereupon
worked it out of the other leg into that to which the fowl was connected
by the string, and thus he followed it until he had cornered it near to
the string, when suddenly he gave a tremendous push and away it went
through the rest of the leg and through the string into the fowl. The
witch-doctor cut the connecting string, wrung the neck of the fowl, and
threw it over to his wife to cook for his next meal, for he was not
afraid of any number of evil spirits that might be in the fowl. The
practice was that if a patient did not recover after this rubbing out of
the malignant spirits, he had to take another and another fowl until he
was either cured or his fowls were finished.

There was no bell at sunrise the next morning calling the men to work;
but before the sun was far above the distant tree-tops a bugle sounded
out over the town.

“What is that?” asked Bakula of a companion, for he had never heard a
bugle before.

“To-day is Sunday,” his friend replied, “and that is Petelo blowing his
bugle to remind the people that it is the rest day, and those who want
to attend the service to hear God’s palaver must not go to the farms.”

“I know what God’s palaver means,” said Bakula. “But what do Sunday and
service mean? I never heard of them before.”

His informant explained the meaning of the day, and also of the word
service. He said that ever since the white teachers had come to live in
their town many of the folk observed the day and attended the service,
but others laughed at both and went off to their farms as usual.

By and by my owner went with the other lads to the school-house, where
we found some boys from the town already assembled. The white man came
in and greeted us, sat down among us and conducted what I afterwards
learned was a Sunday-school class. He talked to us about God’s mercy and
justice, and we asked him all kinds of questions. If we started any
inquiry that did not belong to the lesson he told us to remind him of it
one evening when we went for a chat with him and he would try to answer
it then.

When the sun was well up the bell was rung for God’s palaver. All the
boys picked up two or three mats and carried them to the “town square,”
where they spread them along three sides and placed two of them in the
middle. These preparations being completed, the bell was again loudly
rung, and the white man, locking up his house, went to the square,
followed by a boy carrying his chair.

By this time the people had gathered--the women and girls sat on the
mats along one side, the men and boys on the mats extending along two
sides. The school-boys arranged themselves on the mats that had been put
in the middle, against which the white man’s chair had been placed, and
finally the King sat on a chair with a few head men about him at the
entrance to his _lumbu_, or enclosure, which occupied the whole of the
fourth side. He was gorgeously arrayed in a bright red coat and
waistcoat, with a large, bright blue cloth round his loins and a gaudy
smoking-cap on his head. Most of the people were dressed in gay-coloured
cloths and bright beads, and had oily faces. Here and there were young
dandies who, to enhance their charms, had polished their faces with
black lead, or streaked them with lines of scarlet, blue, or yellow
pigments.

It was a strange, grotesque, pathetic gathering upon which the eyes of
the pale-face teacher rested that radiant Sunday morning. The faces of
the old women portrayed their greed, jealousy, hatred and vice. From the
very youngest girl to the oldest woman there was not a pure, virgin soul
to be found. Among the older men there was not one but had broken the
whole ten commandments, and the younger men and boys who had not broken
them all had failed not from lack of inclination, but of opportunities.
There at the back sat in scarlet and blue the man who had murdered the
very mother who had nursed him and cared for him in infancy and
childhood. What message had the teacher for these men and women?

The white man gave out a hymn, and the schoolboys sang it heartily.
Bakula recognized it as the one he heard in Tonzeka’s town on the night
of the drunken riot--“God loved the world of sinners lost.”

Then a strange thing happened: the teacher knelt in prayer, and the men
and women, boys and girls turned over from their squatting postures on
the mats, and bowed their heads while in reverent tones they repeated
the prayers phrase by phrase--a confession of guilt, a petition for
strength to do right, a note of thankfulness for God’s mercy, and, for
His great gift of Jesus Christ, and a request that they might all
receive His pardon and salvation. Then came another hymn, and the white
man spoke to us on God’s readiness to forgive, if we will but repent and
turn to Him, and he illustrated what he meant by telling us a story out
of God’s book called “The Prodigal Son.” Another hymn and prayer and the
strange meeting was over. The teacher went and spoke to the King and
greeted all whom he passed on his way to his empty house.

Soon after dinner the white man called three or four of his boys, and,
taking his long walking-stick, started for Mputu, to hold a service in
that town. Bakula met the little party and received permission to join
it.

Passing through the town, we descended a steep side of the hill, and
came to the river Mposo, which we crossed by means of a rickety bridge,
and a long walk up and down low-lying hills brought us to Mbumba’s town
of Mputu. Apparently the white man was expected, for the folk gathered
before the greetings between the chief and the teacher were concluded.

A service was conducted similar to the morning one, the chief and people
joining in the hymns and prayer, and listening attentively to God’s
palaver. The sun by now was fast sinking, so the white man bade the
chief and his people good-bye and hurried back to Congo dia Ngunga. On
the way out our white companion had chatted freely with us, but now he
asked us not to talk to him, as he had to think over what teaching he
should give the King on his return.

In our small party was a lad belonging to the town we had just left, so
Bakula asked him if all the rumours of cruelty and murder he had heard
about Mbumba were true, for he was notorious throughout the whole
district for cutting off ears on the slightest provocation, murdering
folk for the smallest offences, and stirring up quarrels and war between
towns for the most trivial causes. “Yes,” admitted the lad, “it is all
true. He cut off my brother’s ear, because, while sitting in front of
him one day, he happened to stretch out his legs;[49] and I was present
on another occasion when he ordered a slave to be killed for the same
small offence.”

Footnote 49:

  See note 39, p. 353.

Mbumba’s record was that of one “whose feet were swift to shed blood.”
He had listened quietly to the teaching that afternoon, and had begged
the teacher to “come again quickly.”

It was almost sunset by the time we had climbed the hill and reached the
town. On arriving at the entrance to the King’s enclosure the white man
turned in, we following at his heels. The King, hearing us, called to us
to enter without ceremony, and we found his majesty squatting on a low
stool with an empty chair opposite him. He shook hands cordially with
the white man and, pointing to the chair, invited him to be seated. And
sitting there face to face, with only a few boys about them, the white
man said--

“The white teachers who first came to live in your town visited you
every Sunday evening to explain God’s palaver to you, and for many
months now I have been coming, when well, every Sunday evening for the
same purpose. What is it that keeps your heart closed so tightly against
our message?” Then he pleaded with him to repent of his many great sins
and seek help and salvation in God. The shadows deepened as the
conversation proceeded, but it was not too dark to see the tears
trickling down the pock-marked cheeks of the old man.

At last the quiet talk was ended, and the white man, promising to see
him again soon, bade the King “sleep well,” and returned to the lonely
stone house that echoed with the voices of those who had lived and
worked there before him.

Soon after dark the white man’s personal boy came and informed us that
his master had taken some tea and gone to bed with a bad fever, and he
had sent to say that he could not talk with any of the lads that night,
and begged them not to make much noise, as his head ached severely. A
quietness fell upon us all, and although the stone house was some
distance off, the boys spoke in whispers for fear of disturbing their
teacher. When the light was put out that night, one of the elder boys
timidly suggested we might pray to God on behalf of their teacher. As no
one dissented he falteringly prayed: “O God, we do not know much about
you, for we are foolish and do not learn quickly what our white man
tells us about you; but we beg you to cure him of his fever, so that he
may teach us every day. O God, take a sharp hoe, dig into our hearts,
pull up all the weeds and sow Thy good seed there. In the name of Jesus
we beg it. Amen.”

Two or three days after the above events Bakula heard some shouting in
the town, and hurried in the direction of the voices. There, in the
centre of a crowd, was a witch-doctor, dancing and prancing about in the
most ridiculous, though approved, fashion.

In his hand was a bunch of feathers, which he flourished in the air and
then darted at the grass wall of a hut near by. Every time he threw it
the bunch of feathers stuck in the wall, and everybody shouted with
admiration because they thought it was a great charm, as otherwise
simple feathers would not fly with such accuracy and stick tightly on a
wall. The witch-doctor danced in triumph, and the crowd of onlookers
shouted and clapped.

Again the feathers are thrown, and, wonder of wonders, they stick; but
before the witch-doctor has finished his fandango of exultation, a
school-lad darts from the crowd and, grasping the feathers, he drags
them from the wall.

A scream of horror arises from the men and women, for they expect him to
fall dead or paralyzed on the ground as a punishment for touching
another’s fetish.

But, no, there he stands nervously pulling at the feathers; and before
the witch-doctor can reach him he extracts from amid the feathers a
sharp iron prong, and throws it and the feathers at the feet of their
maddened owner.

Then the people see the trick that has been played upon them and,
turning on the witch-doctor, drive him from the town amid hooting,
hisses and laughter.

[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE CATARACT REGION OF THE CONGO.]

[Illustration: A WITCH DOCTOR.]




                               Chapter XV
                         Satu receives a Title

The King sends for medicine--He is told to apply to St. Catherine--The
    King’s promise--Bakula bids farewell to his white friend--King’s
    deputy goes with us to Satu’s town--Ceremony of conferring the
    title--Killing a leopard--Satu redeems his brother--Releases his
    niece from a hateful marriage--A story: "Appearances are sometimes
    Deceptive"--A chief asks for Satu’s niece in marriage--Marriage
    money is paid--The wedding--Satu gains a new slave.


One day Bakula was chatting with the white man in his house when a head
man arrived from his majesty, saying: “The King has many pains in his
stomach, and he wants some medicine to stop them. Will you send some?”

“No,” replied the white man, “I will not send him any. For several weeks
I attended the King during his severe illness, and immediately on his
recovery he, at the request of the padres, went to their church and
thanked St. Catherine for his restoration to health. Go and tell him
that as he thanked St. Catherine for his recovery, he must now ask St.
Catherine for medicine to stop the pains in his stomach.”

The messenger could hardly repress a smile as he said: “That is only
fair,” and hurried off to deliver his message.

“Will you not send some medicine?” asked the King’s nephew, who was
standing by.

“Yes, perhaps by and by, but not just yet,” replied the white man. “He
has eaten too much, and colic is the result. It will not hurt him to
bear the gripings for a time; and then I will send him some medicine and
advice. You know,” continued the speaker, “that I went at sunrise every
morning for five weeks to wash his foul, sloughing sore, and bind it in
clean bandages; and he was grateful for all that was done for him, and
often said that I had saved his life, and now I want to teach him that
these saints who have rotted away to dust generations ago cannot help
him.”

By now the messenger returned to say that the King will not go to St.
Catherine again if the white man will send him some medicine at once.

To him the missionary replied: “Tell the King he had better wait a
little longer before making such a conditional promise. St. Catherine
may be busy somewhere else, and cannot come to Congo just now, even for
a King. You see, she must have a lot to do in all parts of the world,
and as she is only a saint, and not God, she cannot be everywhere at
once.”

Off went the man with the message, and this time he could not suppress
his laughter.

“Tell the cook-boy to make some hot water quickly,” said the white man
to a boy who was squatting near the door.

The King’s nephew, in apologetic tones, said: "The King’s position is a
very difficult one. He loves Vianga, Yoani, Bentele, Alli[50] and you
very much. You English were the first to bring God’s palaver to him and
his people, every day you cure them of their diseases with your
medicines, and you teach them all kinds of good ways; but the padres
give him bales and bales of cloth and many boxes of beads. You know he
is always greedy for trade goods and fine clothes; and these he receives
in abundance from the Roman Catholic padres, hence when they asked him
to go to their church to thank St. Catherine for his recovery, he was
afraid to refuse them, although he believes in his heart what you
frequently told him: that God blessed your medicine to his restoration.
To show how he loves you English teachers, listen to what happened about
a month ago. All the padres went to the King and told him that he was to
order all his people to attend their church, and never again to go to
your services. They were angry because their church was nearly empty
every Sunday. They threatened to leave the town immediately, and that
would mean a stoppage of all their presents, if he did not issue the
order they requested. The King absolutely refused to command his people
to attend either service, and said: ‘They shall be free to go wherever
they like.’"

Footnote 50:

  Revs. T. J. Comber, John Hartland, W. H. Bentley, and H. E.
  Crudgington.

“I have always felt sorry for the trying position of the King,” said the
white man, “and fully sympathize with him in his difficulties; but he
is, as we say in English, trying to sit on two stools, and that is
always very uncomfortable to the sitter, and most irritating to the
stools.”

Just then three head men came hurrying into the house to beg again for
some medicine, and to promise on behalf of the King that he would never
again thank St. Catherine for what she did not, and could not
accomplish. So the white man called for the hot water, and, mixing a
glass of physic, sent it to the King.

In a short time the man returned with the report that the King felt
better directly he drank the medicine.

“What was it you gave him?” he asked of the white man.

“Only some peppermint, hot water and sugar,” replied the missionary.
“You tell the King from me,” he continued, “that he is not to eat so
much.”

Bakula informed his white friend that he had come to bid him good-bye,
for at “cock-crow” in the morning he and his party would be starting
back for their town.

“Will you not come and live with me, and let me teach you God’s
palaver?” asked the white man of the lad.

“For many reasons,” replied Bakula, “I would like to come and learn to
read, write, do carpentry and hear more about God; but this station is a
long way from my home, and my family will not let me come so far. My
uncle lives in the Ngombe district, and perhaps they will let me go to
the mission school there.”

“Well, you can learn there as well as here; but I should have liked you
to live with me,” and there was a note of tenderness in the teacher’s
voice, and tears were not far from his eyes as he spoke to the lad. And
after a quiet talk with my owner about what he had heard at the
services, and expressing the hope that they would see each other again
soon, the white man and Bakula separated, never to meet again on earth.

Bakula had frequently tried to induce Old Plaited-Beard to have some
conversation with the white man, but had failed every time, not through
lack of earnestness and persistency on Bakula’s part; but because of the
old man’s superstitious fear and hatred of white men. The discussions on
the subject had been long and often loud, and when Old Plaited-Beard was
unsuccessful in proving his charges of witchcraft against the white man,
or failed in proving that the white man bought up dead bodies and sent
them to Mputu, he then fell back on another accusation: that the white
men had come to steal their country from them.

On one occasion Bakula led the white man towards the place where Old
Plaited-Beard was sitting; but no sooner did the superstitious old man
see him coming in the distance than he ran into the inner room of the
nearest house, and would not come out until he was assured that the
white man had gone.

Early next morning Bakula and his party, accompanied by Kapitau and some
followers, started on their return journey. On the road Old
Plaited-Beard and the Kapitau had long talks, and although the
prejudiced views of the old man were received with coldness by the
King’s deputy, yet in one point they agreed, and that was “that the
white man would rob them of their country and make them all slaves.”[51]

Footnote 51:

  See note 40, p. 353.

Wherever we stayed for a night the people paid most humble homage to
Kapitau, as representing the King, and supplied him with plenty of food
and palm-wine; consequently every evening was spent in feasting and
drinking, and there was scarcely a night that the elders of the party
went to bed sober.

On arriving at Satu’s town Kapitau and his companions received a great
ovation. The people crowded the road to set eyes on the man who had been
sent by the great King of Congo to confer a title on their own chief.
They vied with each other in shouting, clapping, and beating their
mouths. Drums were thumped, ivory horns blown, and guns fired; and the
din was such that it seemed more like pandemonium let loose for a riot
than a friendly welcome to an honoured visitor and guest. To show due
respect to the King’s deputy a good house was given him, and an abundant
supply of food. In two or three days the party was rested and the
necessary preparations for the ceremony were completed.

On the appointed day a large crowd gathered, composed of Satu’s mother’s
clan, who were especially called. Those members of his father’s clan who
desired to be present were welcomed, but all other clans were carefully
excluded. The assembly formed a large circle, in the centre of which a
leopard’s skin was spread and a seat placed on it.

The Kapitau went up to Satu, who was sitting among his people, and
hooking his index finger in the little finger of Satu’s left hand, led
him up to the leopard’s skin, and walking him round it as far as the
tail, told him to step over it. Then, leading him to the front of the
chair, he seated him in it, whereupon the crowd of onlookers slapped the
loosely closed fists of their left hands with the palms of their right
hands.

The Kapitau put on the new noble’s head some _lemba-lemba_ leaves, and
wetting his hands with palm-wine, pressed them to Satu’s temples, to the
back and front of his head, to his shoulders and to his knees. This was
to make him throb with life, wise in the head, strong in body and legs.
This ceremony was repeated three times, and a blessing was pronounced in
the following words: May you be happy and lucky, and when you speak may
your words be heard (_i. e._ obeyed) by the people. And again the crowd
shouted and clapped.

When the folk had exhausted themselves into quietness the Kapitau asked
loudly three times: “Do you know this man’s name?” and the people
replied each time: “No, we do not know his name!” Then the King’s deputy
exclaimed loudly: “It is _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_.” The men and women,
hearing this, rounded their mouths with pursed lips, and beat them with
the extended fingers of their right hands, making thereby a long series
of _Wo! Wo! Wo!_ and again the drums were beaten, guns fired, and ivory
trumpets sounded until the very air seemed to quiver with discordant
noises.

The Kapitau then instructed the new noble how he was to deport himself
as a man of high rank. In future he must not, when walking, visiting,
hunting or trading, carry anything except his walking-stick or gun. In
fact, he was never again to carry anything like a boy or an ordinary
man. Should any person meet him bearing any article, save his stick or
gun, such a person may take away the said article and either keep it for
himself or sell it. Should he shoot any game he must send some one for
it, for if he attempted to bring it into the town himself, the first to
meet him may deprive him of his spoils. He must never, under any
circumstances, gather firewood or fetch water; and, lastly, the new
noble must never beat his wives, and should he so far forget himself as
to do so, he may be mulcted in a fine of several fowls or one goat.
These instructions completed, a bracelet was put on his arm as a sign of
his new and important rank.

Satu gave the Kapitau four pieces of cloth and a pig to compensate him
for his trouble; and a great feast of pigs, goats and palm-wine was
prepared for the people in honour of the occasion. The night was
occupied with gluttony, dancing, immorality and drunkenness, for men and
women, boys and girls were reeling about in maudlin intoxication all
over the town. Fortunately they had nothing but palm-wine to drink,
which never makes the drinkers quarrelsome, like the fiery waters
supplied by traders.

Only chiefs are permitted to own and use leopards’ skins, and when one
of these animals is slain there is considerable local excitement as to
which chief will gain possession of the skin by his largesse to the
fortunate slayer of the brute.

The other week a leopard was killed in our neighbourhood, and the lucky
man who shot it had it carried from chief to chief in the district. The
front and back paws were tied, and a pole was passed through the legs
and hoisted on to the shoulders of some men. In this ignominious
fashion--dangling from a pole--the prize was hawked from place to place.
One chief gave four kegs of gunpowder (worth 16_s_.); another gave seven
blankets (worth 21_s_.); another, who already owned a leopard skin, and
could not afford a second, presented eight looking-glasses (worth
5_s_.); and thus each gave, not knowing what the others had given. Satu
gave four blankets, three kegs of powder, and two rugs (worth in all
30_s_.), and thus exceeded the others in generous presents. Directly it
was known who gave the largest sum to the leopard slayer, Satu went and
put his foot on the beast, and thus established his claim to it. The
animal was removed and in due time skinned. It could not be flayed until
it was trodden on by its future owner.

The leopard after it is killed is always referred to with great respect
as _Mfumu_, or chief; and after the carcass has made the circuit of the
chiefs it is carried back to the hunter’s town, and two or three days
are given wholly to festivities. Guns are fired, drums are beaten, the
people dance and sing songs in honour of the slayer of _Mfumu_, and much
palm-wine is drunk. The leopard is then flayed and eaten. Some ate the
flesh believing they would become lithe, cunning and strong like the
leopard, but others refused to eat it from a superstitious fear of
spots--like the leopard’s--breaking out on their own skins.

The gifts presented by the various chiefs paid the expenses of the
festivities, and Satu sat on this skin when he was invested with the
high rank of a noble. If the skin had been given to a chief out of the
district in which the hunter killed the animal it would have been
resented as an insult, and the towns and villages would have combined to
fight the hunter’s town or enforced the payment of a heavy fine.

Satu’s deceased brother was a very poor trader, and had such frequent
losses on his trading journeys that on one occasion he was compelled to
“pawn” one of his younger brothers to a neighbouring chief to pay his
many debts. He had borrowed fifty pieces of cloth on his brother, and
although he frequently afterwards possessed more than that number, and
in fact died worth more than three hundred pieces, yet he never troubled
to redeem his brother, but left him in servitude. As a “pledge in pawn”
the brother received no pay from the one who held him, no matter how
hard he laboured.

Satu, on the other hand, was a keen, successful trader, and had
accumulated a great amount of native wealth. Consequently, as a rich man
and a noble, he was expected by public opinion to redeem his brother out
of bondage. One of Satu’s first acts after his dignity was conferred on
him was to take the fifty pieces of cloth, a calabash of palm-wine and a
_white_ goat; and, calling Bakula and others to carry the goods and
accompany him as witnesses, went to the town where his brother was held
in slavery.

On reaching the town he sent for the pawnbroker or holder, who came at
once followed by a few friends, who all paid homage to Satu as a great
noble. The natives bowed to the King and rendered homage three times at
each of the three places as they approached; but to Satu they bowed only
once at each place as they drew near.

When all were seated, the calabash of wine was handed round and solemnly
drunk by the two principal men and their witnesses. The fifty pieces of
cloth were counted out and handed over, and the _white_ goat was
presented. This _white gift_ was called _nkusw’ a mpemba_, or a being
rubbed white. On receiving this _white_ goat the man who held the pawn
in pledge arose to his feet and rubbed some chalk with his fingers by
the side of the right ear of the pawn. The ceremony is complete, the
pawn is redeemed, and the chalk is a sign that he is _clean_ from his
bondage, and there is nothing more against him. Satu and his brother
embraced each other and returned together to their town. The slur of
slavery now being wiped out of the family, no one would again taunt them
with it.

Satu now turned his attention to help his only niece. It appears that
when she was a baby only one or two days old, a man of middle age
entered her mother’s house, and dropped a bead into the saucepan that
stood by the fire, and from which the hot water was taken to wash the
baby. The dropping in of the bead gave the man a claim on the girl to
become his wife when old enough. No one else could marry her unless the
girl were released by the payment of a heavy sum for breach of custom.

When the child, Sono, reached the age of seven, her deceased uncle had
acknowledged the claims of the “bead dropper” to his niece’s hand by
asking him to pay ten pieces of cloth as marriage money. He could and
should have asked more, but he was in difficulty, and glad to accept any
sum he could get. As Sono came to realize the small amount that was
given for her, she became angry with her uncle and with the man who
regarded her as his cheaply bought wife; and this feeling was increased
by the girls and boys in her town jeering at her for not being worth
more than the price of two pigs.

When she arrived at a marriageable age she refused to marry the old man,
and had repeatedly begged her uncle to release her by returning the
marriage money and another ten pieces as interest for the use of the
money for the past ten years. Her deceased uncle, who was then the head
of her family, had refused to part with so much cloth merely to gratify
the whim of a girl, and, besides, he always pleaded poverty.

There seemed no prospect of release for her from a very hateful marriage
with an old man who already possessed twelve wives--most of whom had
bad, quarrelsome tempers, and would make her life miserable. She had
determined to kill herself[52] as her only means of escape; but now that
another and richer uncle was head of the family she renewed her appeal
with success.

Footnote 52:

  See note 41, p. 354.

The bridegroom-elect was a crafty old man who thoroughly recognized the
advantage of an alliance with so great a family if he could coerce the
girl into marrying him, or the possibility of making some money out of
the breaking of the covenant should her uncle support her in her
continued refusal of him.

He therefore feigned surprise when he was requested to release Sono from
her betrothal to him, and asked in anger: “Was he not great enough to
become a member of Satu’s family! Was he not a great man himself, and
owned twelve wives! What objection had lord Satu to him?”

Satu did not attempt to argue these matters with the old man, but went
straight to the point by asking how much he wanted before he would
release his niece.

“Well,” replied the man, “I paid ten pieces of cloth, besides palm-wine,
and various odds and ends of trade goods, worth in all fifteen pieces,
as marriage money, and your family has had the use of that amount for
ten years; so I shall not take less than one hundred pieces of cloth to
release her from the betrothal.”

“That is a ridiculous price to put on her,” retorted Satu angrily. “I
will give you twenty-five pieces, one pig, one keg of gunpowder, one
calabash of palm-wine, and one soldier’s coat.”

“But you are now a great chief, and a noble of high rank,” contended the
old man, “and any one will give sixty pieces of cloth for your niece as
marriage money in order to marry into so grand a family. I will not take
a fathom less than ninety pieces. Let me tell you a story of a girl who
refused her betrothed for frivolous reasons, and was badly treated by
her chosen husband.” The old man then related this story, called

“Appearances are Sometimes Deceptive.”

“Once upon a time a girl was betrothed by her parents to a Mr. Hawk, and
for a time she was satisfied with her sweetheart; but by and by she
complained that his face was too black. Her parents tried to teach her
that a man was not to be accepted simply because he had a beautiful
face, nor rejected for only possessing a very plain, black one; but she
would not listen to them.

“One day she put on her ornaments and best cloths, and went to the
market, where she met a young man whose name was Oily-face,[53] because
it was polished so brightly with palm-oil.

Footnote 53:

  See note 42, p. 354.

“Mr. Oily-face’s country was a long way off, and when he left home he
had a nasty body covered with pimples and scabs, and his eyes bulged
out. As he passed through the towns he borrowed a face, some hair, new
teeth and a nice skin; consequently when he reached the market he looked
a very pleasant young man.

“This Mr. Oily-face saw the girl standing in the market, and said to
her: ‘I would like to marry you.’ She looked at him, and seeing he had a
beautiful light skin, well-plaited hair, and nice white teeth, she said:
‘All right, come and see my parents.’

“When they reached her town she said to her family: ‘Here is a young man
who wants to marry me.’ Oily-face looked so bashful, and showed such
respect to the girl’s mother, that they were all pleased with him. Very
soon they were married, and shortly after started for Oily-face’s
country.

“They had not gone very far on the road when some one called out:
‘Oily-face, return my hair.’ Another shouted: ‘Give me back my teeth.’
In another town a man requested Oily-face to return the face that he had
lent him; and another said: ‘Give me back my stomach and take your own;
it eats too much.’ Thus at last he was reduced to his own nasty body,
pimply skin and bulging, ugly eyes.

“After walking many days they reached their town, and the people came
round asking Oily-face where he had procured his wife. He told them that
she had come from a far country which was ten days’ journey away. They
welcomed her, but next morning they surrounded the house wishing to eat
her.

“She came outside and said: ‘Wait, don’t eat me yet; but beat your drums
and I will dance.’

“So she danced all day to amuse them, and sang a song about a Mr. Hawk
being very good, with beautiful, curving feathers; and how sorry she was
for not accepting him as her husband. Every morning they wanted to kill
and eat her; but she danced and sang to please them.

“One day Mr. Hawk passed that way, and, looking down, saw the woman,
heard her song, and felt full of pity for her. He told her parents of
their daughter’s danger, and promised to save her. Next day, therefore,
he flew off, swooped down, and carried her back to her own family, who
were glad to receive her amongst them again. After a time she married
Mr. Hawk, and never any more found fault with the colour of his face.”

“There,” continued the narrator, “your niece will be sorry she did not
marry me when she is badly treated by some dandy who has borrowed his
beauty from other people. Give me eighty pieces of cloth and I will
release her.”

To him Satu replied, with a laugh: “I will take care that no such dandy
marries my niece and carries her off to a distant country. Besides, my
niece is not so foolish as to make friends with any swells (_etoko dia
fioti_) on the market.” Satu offered twenty-eight pieces and the other
articles, and asserted that he would not put another fathom on the
price.

They argued about the affair all that afternoon and for the two
succeeding days, and at last it was agreed that Satu should pay
thirty-five pieces of cloth to the old man, one pig, one keg of
gunpowder, one soldier’s coat, one gun, and a calabash of palm-wine, and
thus the palaver was settled to every one’s satisfaction.

A month or two after the release of Sono, a young chief of a
neighbouring village arrived, followed by a man carrying a large
calabash of palm-wine. Bakula greeted him, and walked with him to Satu’s
house. There the young man asked for Satu, who, on appearing, received
homage from the chief and inquired his business.

“I very much wish to marry your niece, Sono,” replied the young man,
“and I have brought a calabash of palm-wine to start the negotiations.
Will you drink it?”

If Satu had refused to drink the wine the young chief would have taken
it away, knowing that there was not the smallest hope of him ever
marrying into Satu’s family; but Satu did not refuse the wine; he
accepted it, and sat down and drank it with the suitor for his niece’s
hand.

Having drunk the wine, Satu sent for some food, so that the young chief
might refresh himself for his return journey; and without giving him a
decided answer he told his niece’s admirer to come back in four days. So
far Satu had not pledged himself, but had simply listened favourably to
the suit.

On the appointed day the chief, carrying more palm-wine, returned to
Satu, who, having drunk the wine, informed the aspirant to his niece’s
hand that he was quite willing to regard him as a suitable husband for
Sono if all other matters could be arranged; and that the marriage money
would be fifty pieces of cloth, two blankets, one pig, fifty brass rods,
and five round looking-glasses.

This large sum was asked on the ground that Satu wanted a guarantee that
the suitor for his niece was wealthy before he would admit him into so
great a family.

The young man was staggered at the price demanded; and tried to reduce
it, without success. He was, however, enamoured of the lady, and at last
promised to collect the various goods. But it required repeated trading
expeditions about the country and to the coast before the young chief
had added sufficient to his savings to pay the marriage money and meet
the expenses of the wedding.

A few months passed, and Satu received word that the young chief had
gathered the cloth and other articles; and requesting him to come and
inspect them. This Satu did, and being satisfied with the quality of the
cloth and the size of the pig, he arranged to return for the goods on a
certain day and to bring the girl’s father[54] to be introduced to him.

Footnote 54:

  See note 43, p. 354.

The day arrived, and with it Satu and the girl’s father, accompanied by
a man carrying their calabashes of palm-wine. The young man called some
of his friends to help him drink the wine, and to act as witnesses. The
uncle’s wine was drunk first, as he is always of more importance in
these marriage transactions than the father, mother, or even the girl
herself. After the uncle’s calabash was finished the father’s wine was
drunk. The “money” was then counted, and the two blankets and one or two
pieces of cloth were given to the father, but the rest was claimed[55]
by the uncle.

Footnote 55:

  See note 44, p. 355.

Up to the present neither the girl nor her mother are supposed to have
been consulted; but he would be indeed a foolish swain who went far in
the “palaver” without knowing something of the girl’s feelings towards
him, or sending presents to the girl’s mother.

This young man was well acquainted with the girl’s favourable regard for
him, for had she not received little presents[56] from him? He knew,
too, that his future mother-in-law was on his side, for he had acted
generously towards her; hence, when questioned on the matter, she
readily agreed[57] that the marriage could take place at once.

Footnote 56:

  See note 45, p. 355.

Footnote 57:

  See note 46, p. 356.

The young chief had seven wives already, consequently he was well versed
in the rites and ceremonies of marriage. At these affairs there is
generally a pretence at carrying off the bride; hence on the wedding-day
the bridegroom, accompanied by many friends, went to the bride’s town,
and as they drew near they beat their drums, shouted loudly, fired guns,
and made as much noise as possible, as though they were attacking the
town. There was a sham struggle, and at last the girl was carried off.
This great ado was regarded as an honour to the girl, and a proof of the
bridegroom’s position.

On returning to his own village the bridegroom told his friends to bring
the drums and plenty of palm-wine, and on that and the succeeding three
days goats and pigs were killed and eaten, palm-wine was drunk, and guns
fired. The bride went without food the day before the wedding, and as a
new wife she was not allowed to eat in sight of her husband for three
months.

When the crowd had gone the elders met and gave the girl into the hands
of the young chief, and they taught them both in the presence of
witnesses. To the young woman they said: “You are to respect your
husband and his family; and you are to behave yourself properly in your
house. You have never had thieving or witchcraft palavers in the past;
continue without them, and conduct yourselves properly towards each
other.”

To the young man they said: “You are to respect your wife and her
family; you must not speak harshly to her, nor treat her as a slave, nor
stamp on her things, nor tread her beneath your feet.”

Then the young man went to one of the witnesses, and taking him by the
wrist, rubbed a bullet on the palm of the witness’s hand, and said: “I
have heard all the words spoken, and if I destroy the marriage may I die
by this bullet.”

The young woman then stepped forward and shyly took the same oath. This
ceremony completed, the witnesses went into Sono’s house and arranged
the hearthstones, and instructed the bride in the duties of a wife.

The young chief, in anticipation of his marriage, had built a house for
his new wife, because every wife had her own house in which to live and
be mistress. The Congo man is too ’cute to put two women in one house;
perhaps he has learned by bitter experience the unwisdom of it, and no
matter how many wives he may be fortunate enough to marry, he builds a
house for each, and one for himself.

Sono, coming as she did from a town which was half a day’s journey from
her new home, had no farm from which she could draw her supplies of food
for herself and husband, in supporting whom she had now to take an
eighth share. So a few days after the marriage she went with the other
women, her fellow-wives, and they helped her to clear a patch of ground,
hoe it, and plant it with seasonable seeds and roots. In return for
their kindness she assisted them in weeding their farms.

It was the custom for the bridegroom to supply his bride with all the
necessary food until her farm was matured and yielding; and from that
time to give her meat and fish as frequently as possible, while she
found her own vegetable food and a share of his. It was also the man’s
duty to present each of his wives with at least one good cloth every
year, and more if he were a wealthy man.

Sono settled down fairly comfortably with her husband and seven
fellow-wives. She had her farm to cultivate, a house of her own, an
occasional bit of meat or fish sent her from her husband; what more
could she want?

One morning our town was aroused by the firing of guns and shouts of
_Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!)

Bakula ran out of the house and joined most vigorously in the shouting.

We saw a man covered with perspiration and panting with running. He
hurried by to the chief’s _lumbu_ or enclosure, and fell at the feet of
Satu, where he paid most humble homage, covering his face with dirt.

As soon as he gained his breath he said: “I have been badly treated by
my master Dimbula, who frequently beat me severely with his whip. See,
here are the marks!” and he showed some deep wales across his back, legs
and chest. “He not only thrashed me,” he continued, “but he robbed me of
the small earnings to which by right of custom I am entitled. I have
therefore run away from him to you. Will you accept of me?” and he
looked beseechingly at Satu, for now his very life depended on the
answer. If Satu refused him, and handed him back to Dimbula as a runaway
slave, it was most probable that his master, in his rage and shame,
would kill him.

Satu considered the matter, and at last, to the relief of the poor
wretch, called for a piece of goat’s flesh, and giving half to the
slave, ate the other half himself.

The crowd that had gathered, directly they saw the piece of goat’s meat
eaten, shouted: _Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!) and fired off a salvo
with their guns.

The slave was practically now a free man. The piece of goat eaten by
Satu was a pledge that he would protect the man who had eaten with him
from ever falling again into the hands of his old master, even though he
had to use the last brass rod, or shed the last drop of blood he
possessed, in so doing. And the slave, by the eating of his piece of
goat, was bound, as long as life lasted, to Satu as _a free man_.

On the next market day Satu took the whilom slave and showed him on the
market as one who had “eaten his goat,” and was now no longer a slave.
Dimbula was present, and was chagrined to witness the whole affair; but
he was compelled by custom to accept from Satu the merely nominal price
of a slave. In selling a slave ordinarily the seller gets as much as he
can, and generally makes a good profit on the exchange; but in a
transaction of this kind he must take what is offered as the equivalent
of a slave, and be satisfied.

Dimbula was a man of ungovernable passions, and it was not the first
time that his slaves had escaped from his cruelty by “eating goat” with
neighbouring chiefs; while, on the other hand, no slaves had ever run to
him for protection or to “eat goat” with him. His fierce, hasty temper
was well known and feared.

Slaves free in this way take the name of _Nkombo_, or Goat; and these
“goats” are very highly prized by chiefs, as they become very faithful
followers of those with whom they have “eaten the goat.”




                              Chapter XVI
                        Hunting and Bush-burning

Manner of bush-burning--Witch-doctor makes a hunting-charm--Ceremony is
    carefully performed--Blazing bush and rushing animals--Satu arranges
    with another chief to burn the bush--Dimbula breaks the law and
    insults Satu--War is declared--Old Plaited-Beard being unsuccessful
    accuses Bakula of bewitching him--He tries to restore his luck.


As the hunting season was drawing near, Satu and his people decided to
engage a _ngang’ a nkongo_, or the “medicine man” of the hunting fetish,
to make for them a powerful charm that would endow them with good luck
in all kinds of hunting. The time for bush-burning had arrived, when the
tall grass in their district would be thoroughly dry by reason of the
long drought, and would burn like prepared tinder. It is during the bush
fires and the two succeeding months that systematic hunts are organized.
It was therefore needful to prepare the charm as quickly as possible.

The first thing that Satu and his people had to do was to burn carefully
a belt of grass, a hundred yards wide, right round their town, lest the
great, uncontrollable bush fires should come roaring up before the wind,
and reducing their dwellings to ashes, destroy also their treasures and
savings at the same time. For the purpose of burning this belt a damp
morning, heavy with dew, was chosen; then the men and women went with
sticks and knives, and cut or pushed down the grass all round the
town--when the stems of grass are damp they are very pliable and are
easily pressed down and will remain down as they dry in the morning sun.

The bush grass is anything from six feet to fifteen feet high, with
stems as thick as a person’s fingers. When they are burning the steam
generated in the stems causes them to explode with loud, gun-like
reports, and the force of the explosions sends the burning grass
hurtling through the air like rockets; hence Satu’s people took care to
push down the grass so that the stalks pointed away from the houses.

After pressing down the grass round the town the wind was watched, and
when it was favourable the broken-down grass was burnt. The men and
lads, armed with branches, controlled and directed the flames; Bakula
and the other lads just delighted in this bush-burning season, and
looked forward to it with eager anticipation of the sport they would
enjoy and the game they would secure. In dreams and talk they killed
many an animal long before the first grass was fired.

Satu sent Bakula and two other lads to call the _nganga_, who made the
hunting charms. On reaching his town they found him engaged in
refreshing and reinvigorating his fetish. He took a large fowl at
sunset, and, turning his face towards the setting sun, cut the throat of
the fowl and let the running blood fall on the fetish, covering it with
the life-blood of the sacrifice. This renewed the strength of the
fetish, and, refreshing it, enabled it to impart power to various
charms.

He then stood his fetish on the ground and surrounded it with several
small heaps of gunpowder--laying a train from one heap to another. When
all was ready he exploded the powder, and blew vigorously on his
whistle--this aroused the fetish, made it alert and active in performing
its work. The _nganga_ had the fowl cooked, and ate the whole of it
himself, for to sell it or to share it with another would nullify its
effect on the fetish as a sacrifice.

Bakula and his companions stood on one side keenly interested in these
ceremonies, for was not their future success in hunting dependent in
some way on these mysterious rites? Bakula, however, since his close
intercourse with the white man, had begun to doubt the pretended powers
of these _ngangas_, so turning to his fellow-messengers he asked: “How
can that wooden image, that has to be refreshed with fowl’s blood and
aroused with explosions of gunpowder, cause us to shoot straight in our
bush lands? And again, how can it make the antelopes and bush pigs come
our way, instead of going off in another direction?”

He then told the lads what he had seen in the King’s town respecting the
_nganga_ with his charm of feathers, and the iron prong hidden in them.
And he concluded by saying: “I begin to think they trick us, take our
money and laugh at us.” The lads could not reply to Bakula’s reasoning,
but they had no doubt that the _nganga_ possessed powerful “medicines,”
and could do anything he liked; and they told Bakula in a friendly way
not to let Old Plaited-Beard hear him talk in this manner, or he would
quickly accuse him of witchcraft.

Early next morning they returned with the “medicine man” to their town;
and immediately on arrival the _nganga_ set to work to make the
necessary charms. It was a busy time with him, and he would not have
come so promptly, but Satu was a great noble and could pay well. The
_nganga_ procured some red camwood powder, some leaves of the
_lupemba-mpemba_-tree, some young spikes of new _nianga_ grass, some
parrot feathers, cowry shells, wood ashes, a fore-leg of a bat, some
small shot, and some native _peppers_. These he thoroughly cut up and
well mixed, and each hunter filled his small horn with the mixture, and
sealed the opening with a little rubber. He then received his fee and
went.

The hunters being now in possession of their charms, went to visit the
grave of a renowned hunter who had died some years previously. It was
the custom that when a great hunter was dying he should draw a thread
from his _mbadi_[58] cloth, and tie it round the forehead or arms of a
young man chosen for the purpose. This person then became the
_Kimpovela_, or the one who speaks on behalf of others, _i. e._ an
advocate; and this advocate was not allowed to marry more than one wife,
and he must never beat her or he would lose his power as an advocate.
Only the man thus selected by the dying hunter could perform the
ceremonies at this grave. When the great hunter died, his hair was cut
off and buried beneath a large stone near his place of burial, that the
natives of the district might always know where the grave was situated.

Satu and his party took with them a calabash of palm-wine and, calling
the _Kimpovela_, passed on to the grave of the renowned hunter. The

Footnote 58:

  Cloth made from pine-apple or palm fibre.

advocate went first and kneeled with his back to the grave and his face
towards the hunters, who approached him slowly, stopping every few steps
to clap their hands. When they reached the kneeling man they spread out
and sat round the grave, putting the wine and their guns on the ground
near by. The _Kimpovela_ then turned towards the grave, and shaking his
rattle repeatedly, he thus prayed to the deceased hunter: “You are
blind, but your ears are not deaf. Oh, ears, hear well! we have come to
you, we come kneeling. When you lived in the town you ate and you drank,
now we who are left die of hunger; give us male and female animals.”
When this prayer was finished a man put the calabash of wine on his
shoulder, and the _Kimpovela_, making the sign of the cross,[59] took a
cup of the wine and poured it as an offering on the grave of the great
hunter. The rest of the wine was drunk by the hunters sitting around the
grave.

Footnote 59:

  See note 47, p. 356.

After drinking the wine the _Kimpovela_ rubbed a little of the earth wet
with the oblatory wine on the forehead, temples, fore-arms, wrists,
knees and insteps of each hunter; then he took each gun and drew his
fingers up the butt, and reaching the barrel he snapped his fingers and
handed the gun to its owner, who on taking it clapped his hands, sprang
in the air, and holding the gun in front of him walked backwards a
little way, facing the grave, and sat down to wait for the others. When
all had finished they fired a salute and sang a song in praise of the
great hunter to the rubbing, grating noise of the antelope drum. More
palm-wine was drunk, and I am sure that by the time they had exhausted
their wine, if they had seen an antelope not one of them was sober
enough to have fired straight at it.

After these ceremonies were concluded whenever Satu and his people went
hunting they either took their horns of medicine with them, each
carrying his own under his belt, or they wetted the rubber stopper and
rubbed the butt of their guns with a little of the moisture. This gave
them accuracy of aim, or they thought so. By burning the belt of grass
round their town they had secured their houses against fire, and by
their charms and the visit to the grave of the renowned hunter they had
ensured their future success as sportsmen; they were now consequently
able to turn their attention to those parts of the bush where
animals--antelopes, wild pigs and gazelles--were likely to be found.

A breezy day was chosen, and the hunters, taking their places along the
portion of bush to be burned, fired the grass as soon as the night dews
were dried off. Animals browsing were startled by the roar of flames,
rushed bewildered before the oncoming fire, and as they ran past were
shot at by the waiting hunters. While the fire was burning hawks and
fish-eagles circled above the burning bush, not “to drink in the smoke,”
as the natives say, but in search of any hapless rats and snakes cut off
from escape by the raging fire. These birds could be seen swooping down
and carrying off to their lairs such reptiles and rats as their keen,
hungry eyes detected.

These bush fires have taken place annually for generations, and
undoubtedly account for the scarcity of wild game on the Lower Congo,
the absence of large reptiles, the shabby appearance of the trees on the
open veldt--they scarcely recover from one scorching before the dries
are on them and another scorching is due--and the luxuriant grass, for
the burnt remains of one crop enrich the soil to bear another as
stalwart as the first.

During this season it is very weird to see, night after night, great
bush fires blazing in different directions. The sky is aglow with them,
and you smell and breathe a smoky atmosphere for days. Bits of charred
grass are carried by the winds in all directions, and the country looks
dressed in black as though it were mourning with a great sorrow, and the
sun, as though in sympathy with the earth, hides for days behind the
clouds of ascended smoke.

During the hunts men are often wounded, and sometimes killed, by being
mistaken for animals as they push through the rustling grass. Then
follow recriminations, charges of intent to murder, and long law-suits
that ruin the unfortunate family of the man who did not stop to look
before he fired his gun. Sometimes, when a line of men is crawling
through the grass tracking an animal, the trigger of a gun will catch in
the stalks, the gun will explode, there will be a scream of a man in the
agony of death, and the scared owner of the gun will be charged with
murder, for there are no accidents in native law.

The culprit will be fortunate if the deceased is a member of a poor
family, or a slave, for then he will get off with a heavy fine; but if
the dead man is a person of importance his life will be forfeited, or he
will be sold far away into slavery. He will be lucky if he is not
shipped to St. Thomé or to Principe to work on the plantations.

During the bush-burning Satu and his men killed only three wild pigs and
four gazelles; but they had a very serious quarrel with a neighbouring
chief that developed into a war after the hunting season was over.

[Illustration: NATIVE ROPE BRIDGE.]

[Illustration: NATIVE BRIDGE.]

A part of Satu’s land ran by the side of ground belonging to a
neighbouring chief named Dimbula; and according to custom Satu sent to
Dimbula asking what day would be convenient for burning that part of the
bush where their properties joined each other. After much palavering the
day was fixed; but when Satu and his hunters reached the spot they found
none of Dimbula’s people there.

It was against the law of custom for either party to fire the grass
before the arrival of the other side; consequently Satu and his men sat
waiting all through the long morning, and about noon they decided to
return home--vexed with having wasted a whole morning. They had not gone
very far when they heard shouts, and looking round saw the bush blazing.
On hurrying back to the place they had so recently left, they found
Dimbula and his men there.

Satu said: “We arrived here early this morning according to agreement,
and we waited until midday, but as you and your people did not come, we
did not burn the grass, and were just returning home intending to make a
new appointment with you. Why have you broken the custom by firing the
grass in our absence?”

“You think that because you are _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_ that you can do
and say what you like,” replied Dimbula, with ill-suppressed anger and
bad logic.

“No,” retorted Satu, “that is not so, or I would have lighted the bush
early this morning, and not have sat here half the day waiting for you.”

“Let me tell you,” shouted Dimbula, “that my family had the title when
your family was too poor to assume it, and was glad to sell the use of
it.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Satu, “but that is no reason why you should
burn the grass by yourself when you know my land runs by the side of
yours.”

“You think that because you drove a white man out of your town and
retained my runaway slave, that you can lord it over us,” said Dimbula,
who by now was choking with unreasonable rage. In fact, we heard
afterwards that Dimbula had planned the whole affair as an insult to
Satu, of whom he was jealous, both as a rich man and as a noble of rank;
and he also felt hurt because Satu had kept the “goat” that ran to him
for protection.

Satu put down his gun, and with calmness and dignity went up to Dimbula
and said: “I drove the white man away because I did not know him, and I
accepted your slave according to native custom; but they are no excuses
for insulting me. Listen, I swear by my mother,[60] that if you do not
apologize and pay homage to me by the end of the hunting season I will
fight you”; and turning his back on Dimbula he picked up his gun and
walked away.

Footnote 60:

  See note 48, p. 356.

Just as Satu’s party reached the brow of the next hill, Dimbula sprang
forward and shouted in contemptuous and boastful derision: “O mighty
chief Satu, can I lend you twenty kegs of powder for the coming fight?”

The town was all excitement when they heard of the insults that had been
heaped on their chief, and many of the more fiery ones wished to begin
the fight at once; but Satu would not give his consent, and told them to
wait until the hunting was finished.

A few weeks after the fires were over a fine grass covered the
hill-sides and plateaus with such delicious fresh verdure that the
antelopes and gazelles were enticed from the forests where they had fled
from the devouring flames, to browse on it, and so delighted were they
with the new sweet crop that they forgot all dangers, and were easily
surrounded by hunters and shot down.

In these hunts native dogs were used, and a “medicine man” was usually
called to endow them with good tracking powers. The _nganga_ took some
chalk, some different leaves and the head of a viper. These he mixed
thoroughly together and made into a bundle. He then took a small portion
of the bundle and put it in a funnel-twisted leaf, caught a wasp and
pressed its juice into the funnel, put in a little palm-wine, and
squeezed the juice of this mixture into each dog’s nose. They then
became good trackers and hunters. The chalk gave them wisdom, the leaves
gave good health, the portion of viper imparted stealthiness, and just
as a wasp makes straight for its nest, so the dogs would make straight
for the game.

Some of Satu’s people went one day with their dogs to hunt, and had been
gone most of the day when an antelope was seen by Bakula on the side of
a distant hill. They instantly spread, worked to leeward and gradually
bore down on the unsuspecting creature. The nearest man fired[61] and
the poor animal fell mortally wounded. Directly it fell some grass was
cut and spread out, and the antelope was laid on it.

Footnote 61:

  See note 49, p. 357.

The hunter who killed it put the butt of his gun to his shoulder and the
muzzle on the carcass. A cross cut was made on the stomach, and the
hunter put his fingers three times to the cut and to his upper lip, then
again three times to the cut, and rubbed his fingers each time on his
gun. The antelope was then removed, and the hunter put the muzzle of his
gun under the grass and turned it over. The animal could not be cut up
until this ceremony was performed, or the hunter would have lost his
“hunting skill,” and, besides, it established beyond a doubt the
ownership of the antelope.

The flesh of the animals killed in the hunts is always divided,
according to certain well-recognized rules: the kidneys and strips of
meat from the back were sent to Satu as chief of the town; one hind-leg
was given to the men who were left in the town, and they shared it with
their wives; one fore-quarter was given to the hunters, the heart was
given to the father of the successful hunter, certain portions were sent
to his mother and aunt, and the rest belonged to the man who killed it.

When the antelope was being divided, the bladder was emptied and filled
with blood, and in a day or two it was carried to the _Kimpovela_, or
advocate, in charge of the renowned hunter’s grave. The _Kimpovela_
brought from his house a small wooden cross and fixed it in the grave.
He then put the successful bullet in the prepared hole in the cross and
poured the blood over the cross and the grave as an offering, saying as
he did so: “We thank you for sending us such a fine animal, and hope you
will repeat the favour.” Only the blood of antelopes is given in this
way. Some of the blood was rubbed on their fetish charms, and the end of
the antelope’s tail was stuck in the wall over the doorway of the
successful hunter.

During the hunting season Old Plaited-Beard was unsuccessful in his
hunting--not a single animal fell to his gun, although he had several
fine opportunities. He was exasperated at his failure, and looked around
for the reason why his charms were ineffective. He now recalled to mind
what the boys who accompanied Bakula told him on their return about
their companion’s disparaging remarks concerning the “medicine man,” his
fetish, and his trickery. He also remembered his admiration for the
white man, and the attempts he made to bring about a meeting between
them. Putting all these things together, he came to the conclusion that
Bakula had bewitched him and his charms, and that consequently he was
unable to kill any game.

Old Plaited-Beard sent for Bakula and accused him of destroying the
power in his charms; and when the lad strenuously denied the accusation,
he told him what he had sneeringly said in the _nganga’s_ town about
“medicine men” and their tricks; of his companionship with the white man
in the King’s town; and how he who used to wear so many charms had
thrown nearly all of them away. It seemed a very black indictment.

Bakula admitted that he had lost faith in _ngangas_, and told with
dramatic force of the _nganga’s_ exposed trickery in the King’s town; he
did not deny his liking for the white man, for had he not shown kindness
to him in forgiving him and healing his wound? He assented to the charge
of throwing his charms away, for he could not see that the messes the
witch-doctors put into horns and shells could help them in sickness,
hunting, trading, or anything else.

“Besides,” he said, "if I had power to affect the charms made by the
‘medicine man’ for the town, how is it our people have killed pigs,
gazelles and an antelope?"

“You let them shoot the animals, and took the spirit from my charms, so
that I could not kill any,” unreasonably argued the superstitious old
man.

“I am sorry no game fell to your gun,” soothingly replied the lad, “but
it was through no fault of mine.”

Old Plaited-Beard looked at the apologetic lad suspiciously, and he
thought that his very conciliatory attitude was a sign of his guilt. He
would have understood him better if the spirited boy had burst into
loud, angry abuse, recriminations and counter-charges. However, he only
said: "Don’t do it again. Leave my charms alone and do not laugh at
‘medicine men’ and their fetishes, for you have put me to the expense of
engaging a _nganga_ to renew the power in my hunting charm."

Old Plaited-Beard went next day to the _nganga nkongo_, who made three
plaits of nine pieces of grass in each plait. He then asked for a piece
of the last bird or animal his client had killed. The old man took from
his shoulder-bag the tail of a gazelle that he had brought for the
purpose and handed it over to the “medicine man.”

A hunter always saves a feather or a claw of the last bird he killed, or
the tail or hoof of the last animal he shot, and that is why all these
odds and ends are stuck in the front walls of the houses. At any time he
may repeatedly miss, and may require a piece of the last thing he killed
to restore his luck. The _nganga_ took the gazelle’s tail from Old
Plaited-Beard and put it on the ground; he then made three little heaps
of loose gunpowder round it, and chalked a cross near the powder, and on
the butt of the hunter’s gun. The _nganga_ exploded the powder; a little
gunpowder was then put in the gun, and the hunter, standing a few feet
away, fired at the gazelle’s tail, and blew it from the spot on which it
was resting, thus proving that his hunting skill had returned to him. If
the tail had not been blown out of its position the “medicine man” would
have repeated his ceremonies.

After the old man had knocked the tail away, the _nganga_ took the gun
from him, and put his finger in the dirt where the tail had been, and
rubbed a little of the earth three times on the hunter’s upper lip; the
fourth time he put his fingers on the butt of the gun, and ran them up
the barrel and snapped them in the air. He then loosened the plaits, and
shook the grass about the gun. Old Plaited-Beard stepped forward,
solemnly clapped his hands, took his gun, sprang into the air, and
returned home satisfied that in future he would be more successful. He
had never been a good shot, and this season he failed utterly, and put
all the blame on Bakula, on whom he determined to avenge himself on the
first good opportunity.




                              Chapter XVII
                     Satu and his People go to War

Satu as the insulted party makes the first move--He sends an embassy to
    Dimbula--He asks for an apology or offers a bullet--The apology is
    refused, but the bullet is accepted--The witch-doctor makes a new
    charm--Mode of fighting--The ridge-pole of chief’s house is
    captured--Dimbula sues for peace with a white goat--Pays homage to
    Satu--Blood brotherhood is made.


The hunting season had ended, and Dimbula had neither come to pay homage
to Satu, nor sent an apology for the insults he had heaped on him.
Dimbula’s attitude, his insolence, his breaking the bush-burning custom,
and “What would Satu do?” were the general topics of conversation on the
markets and around the evening fires. The people belonging to both towns
swaggered, boasted of their prowess, and insulted each other whenever
they met. There was no hope either of Dimbula humbling himself, or of
Satu relinquishing his claims to homage, or at least his rights to
courteous treatment.

As Satu was the aggrieved party he was consequently the one to make the
first move. Bakula and another lad were chosen to carry a message and a
bullet to Dimbula’s town.

It was with much nervous trepidation that they went on their errand. On
arriving at the town they found the chief and his head men engaged in a
drinking bout. Bakula delivered his message: “Would Dimbula apologize
for his insults and pay homage to Satu as a noble of high rank, or would
he accept of the bullet Satu had sent him?” Bakula and his comrade then
withdrew out of hearing while the men consulted about the answer that
should be returned.

When the messengers were recalled, Dimbula said: “We will accept the
bullet, as we never intend either to apologize or to pay homage to Satu.
Tell him,” angrily boasted the excited chief, “that I can let him have
fifty kegs of gunpowder if he is short of it,” and then followed a
string of abusive epithets that I do not care to place on record. The
two lads were glad eventually to find themselves outside the town in
safety; and, on reaching home, delivered their message faithfully to the
waiting people.

Upon the return of the messengers Satu sent to call in all the
neighbouring chiefs, except Dimbula, and on their arrival he laid
clearly before them the reasons of his quarrel with Dimbula, and his
wish to fight him. After full consideration of the matter the chiefs
gave their consent to the fight taking place; and thereupon Satu killed
a pig and distributed it among the chiefs. The acceptance of this pig’s
flesh assured their neutrality, and was a proof of their consent. It was
now the business of the chiefs to see that no one went to the assistance
of either of the towns at war; and thus Satu had gained an open field,
and feared no interference while he was fighting his enemy.

The next thing to be done was to send for the _nganga_ who made the war
charms. On his arrival Satu and all the men who were to take part in the
fighting assembled to greet and fête him, for their success, and perhaps
their lives, depended on his good-humour and his care in making their
charms. They told the _nganga_ that they were willing to pay for the
most powerful charms he could make.

The “medicine man” took a frog and killed it, then he procured some
twigs from three different trees--the “lembanzau,” the “lolo,” and the
“mfilu”; these four things were carefully burnt together, and the ashes
made into a paste by the addition of some water. A little of this paste
was put into a large number of snail shells, one of which was given as a
charm to each fighting man. Then the men walked round one of the above
trees, and on returning to the town some palm-wine was mixed with the
paste remaining in the saucepan, and all drank of it. After each one had
drunk a little of this mess, the _nganga_ took the saucepan down to the
road that led to Dimbula’s town, and placed it right in the middle of
the path. Each man had then to jump over the pot, and if one had
stumbled or touched the pot with his foot while jumping he would not
have been allowed to go to the fight. The coming war was a popular one,
so every man jumped carefully and lifted his feet well when he came to
the saucepan.

The twigs used in making this charm were from “strong medicine trees,”
and the frog was put in the mixture because they had noticed that the
frog’s heart pulsates, or, as they say, “lives,” for some time after it
is taken from the body. This tenacity of life was what the fighters
needed.

Early next morning the warriors assembled in front of the chief’s home,
and he served out the powder to them. Then the _nganga_ came with a bowl
of palm-wine, and dipping his fingers in the wine touched the lips of
the fighters three times with the front and back of his fingers, and
told them not to look back, nor enter a house, but go right away to the
fight. This he did each morning during the war, for this charm put them
under a spell that removed all possibility of harm or danger. And the
warriors being now secured from bullets, knives, etc., went off in high
spirits to the fight.

The lads, girls and women who were not permitted to go to the fight
brought out their most powerful fetish, and placing it in the middle of
a cleared space, danced round it, and as they circled about the ugly
image they sang: “You fetish, you must kill any one who is bewitching
our fighting men.” Hour after hour, through all the long morning and
afternoon they assiduously danced and repeated their wearisome and
monotonous injunction to their fetish.

Meanwhile, Satu led his men towards his insulter’s town; but in a valley
that skirted the hill upon which his enemy’s town was built he saw
Dimbula and his followers drawn up in fighting array. They were arranged
in a long line behind trees, stones, ants’ nests, hillocks and any other
cover they could find. Satu took his men to within sixty yards of the
enemy, and then spread them in a long line. Abusive expressions of
defiance were hurled at each other, each side ridiculing the bravery of
the other, and asking if they had enough powder for the fight.

When they became tired of shouting, they began to fire their guns at one
another across the open bush. One man would load, run out and fire his
gun, and return to cover; then another did the same, and sometimes there
was simply a flash in the pan and no report at all. Through the whole of
the day they fired at one another in this desultory manner, and not a
single person on either side was hit. Their guns carried only about
thirty yards with any effect, but they generally fired at a distance of
about fifty yards. Again, as the butts of their guns were not pressed
against their shoulders to steady them while taking aim, but held
against the palms of the hands, or against nothing at all, they had free
play, and the kick of the guns sent the slugs anywhere but in a straight
line. In fact Tumbu, a lad, one day was standing well up the hill some
distance above the combatants when a spent slug struck him on the leg,
scratching the skin. You see it was not steady, calm aiming that caused
a bullet to go straight; but the concoction the “medicine man” put in
their charms, and if the bullets went in any direction but the right one
it was not their fault, but their charms were not properly compounded,
or their enemies had more powerful “medicine.”

The fighting had lasted some ten days when it was noticed by Satu’s
party that their enemy’s firing was neither so frequent nor so loud, an
evident proof that Dimbula’s boasted supply of gunpowder was running
short.

It was now that a slave belonging to one of Satu’s head men ran forward
in reckless bravado to fire at the enemy, and was himself struck by a
bullet in the stomach. A fight with knives and clubbed guns took place
over the fallen man.

Dimbula’s men wanted to secure the body, and Satu’s men resisted the
attempt for the following reason: If the corpse fell into the hands of
the enemy they would cut off the head, and soak it in water until the
skull was freed of all flesh. Then the victor would either put it in a
prominent place on a pole as a reproach to the conquered, or he would
use it as a drinking-cup. The spirit of a man thus mutilated haunts and
kills by witchcraft, not the man who slew him, but the members of his
own family. Thus, on the one hand they fight to preserve the body intact
so as not to have the vengeance of the spirit falling on them as a
family; and on the other hand they fight to mutilate the enemy’s body so
that his family may be done to death by the angry spirit. Hence the
fight now raged over the body of the fallen man.

But Satu’s men were too strong, and, at really close quarters, too
brave[62] to give way to the insulter of their popular chief, and after
a short, sharp scuffle, in which several were wounded on both sides,
Dimbula’s men took to their heels and bolted towards their town,
shouting loudly to the women and children to fly to the forest.

Footnote 62:

  See note 50, p. 357.

Satu, calling his men about him, gave chase up the hill and into the
town, simply to find it deserted. They raided the houses, taking the
little treasures that had been overlooked in the hurried flight of their
owners, gathered fowls, goats and pigs, and drove them off to their
town; but before leaving they pulled out the ridge-pole of Dimbula’s
house, and carried it away in triumph--for to take the ridge-pole of a
chief’s house against whom you are fighting is like capturing a royal
standard in an English battle.

Satu and his fighters returned with their loot in great jubilation; but
on arriving in their town their victorious ardour was somewhat damped by
hearing that the slave had died from his wound, and several others had
severe cuts and gashes gained in the _mêlée_ over the fallen man. The
owner of the slave was very much annoyed at the destruction of his
property, and said: “How is it my slave was killed and no one else?
Surely he was bewitched!” He accused Satu of bewitching him, and the
chief would have had to take the ordeal to clear himself of the charge;
but the slain man was a slave, and no free man or chief ever takes the
ordeal on account of a slave. Satu, however, soothed the vexed man by
promising to make Dimbula pay for the slave, or give another in his
place.

Next morning Satu led his men out again; but no sooner had they begun to
fire than Dimbula’s voice could be heard shouting: “Luve! luve! luve!”
or “Peace! peace! peace!”

Instantly upon hearing this cry for peace all fighting, according to
custom, must cease; consequently Satu told his men to stop firing. Then
a small company of men coming across the valley could be seen, the
foremost of whom was Dimbula, and behind him came a neighbouring chief
carrying on his shoulders a _white_ goat. Dimbula took the _white_ goat,
and kneeling in front of Satu, said: “I do not want any more fighting,
and in token of my submission I offer you this _white_ goat.”

Satu accepted the goat, and said: “I am glad to receive your _white_
goat of submission; but I cannot promise you a lasting peace until you
have: First, paid homage to me as a noble of rank; secondly, compensated
my head man for a slave killed in the fight; and lastly, paid one
hundred kegs of gunpowder and fifty pieces of cloth to compensate us.”

Dimbula begged for better terms, and pleaded poverty, stating truly that
he had not the powder and cloth. All the swaggering arrogance of the
bully had gone out of his tone and demeanour as he cringed on the ground
before his conqueror; and as he crouched there he was seen in his true
character--a coward.

To him Satu replied: “The homage you can pay now while you are kneeling
before me; the slave you can also repay at once to my head man, for I
know you have slaves; and for the rest you can hand over one of your
brothers and two of your nephews for me to hold in pawn until you have
paid the agreed price. This is fair, and I have only one mouth.”

Dimbula knew that it would be waste of time to plead further, and in his
heart he was surprised that the conditions were so generous; so
swallowing his pride he paid homage to his victor as _N gudi a nkama
Katendi_. He then called one of his slaves and offered him to Satu’s
head man, who, being satisfied with his healthy appearance, accepted him
with alacrity. He then called his young brother and two nephews, and,
promising to redeem them as soon as possible, put their hands in Satu’s,
thus completing the conditions of peace.

In the meantime, a _nganga_ was called who came with some stalks, leaves
and palm-wine. He pressed the juice out of the stalks into the wine, and
well mixing them he dipped the leaves in the liquid, touched the chiefs
with the leaves and sprinkled the rest of the mixture indiscriminately
over the fighters and people of both sides. Thus peace was established.
To ensure this peace for all time, so far as these two men were
concerned, the _nganga_ let a little blood from them, and gave each to
drink the blood taken from the other; then two needles were solemnly
buried and the whilom enemies became henceforth staunch friends and
blood brothers.

Down somewhere in Dimbula’s cruel, bullying, arrogant nature was a soft
place for his nephews and brother, for at once he began to trade, nor
did he rest until he had gained sufficient to redeem his relatives by
taking the hundred kegs of powder, the fifty pieces of cloth, and the
necessary three _white_ goats to cleanse them from all taint of slavery.
Besides, he was eager to reinstate himself with the neighbouring chiefs,
among whom he had lost his position as a defeated man too poor to meet
the terms of peace. And Satu, as a proof of his increasing friendship
for Dimbula, gave him back the ridge-pole that had been torn from his
house.




                             Chapter XVIII
               Governing, Marketing, and Trading Customs

The making and enforcing of laws--Fines imposed--Division of
    fines--Congo week of four days probably named after their
    markets--Raids and robberies--Preparing a caravan for the
    road--Rules of the road--Arriving at a trading-station--Mode of
    trading--Goods given and received.


From this time Satu could not engage in trading expeditions, but devoted
himself to governing the country by helping to make new laws or
administering old ones. As a noble of exalted rank he presided over the
chiefs of his district at the big palavers when difficult cases were
judged, or called them together to give their sanction to new
regulations.

Recently there had been much quarrelling on the markets, resulting in
severe wounds and a few deaths. After much thought and many talks with
his head men, Satu determined to stop these fatal fights by making a law
that in future no guns should be carried on a market-place nor force
used during market-time. He therefore sent for all the chiefs of the
district, and on their arrival laid clearly and forcibly before them the
new law and the reasons for it. He also suggested that for every breach
of the law a fine of three pieces of good cloth should be inflicted.

This was discussed, and it was finally settled that for taking a gun on
the market the fine should be two pieces of cloth, and for originating a
quarrel the fine should be five pieces, and the defaulter to pay all the
damages of the disturbance.

As soon as this was settled Old Plaited-Beard was nominated as the _N
enkondo_, or enforcer of the new law; and Satu divided the flesh of
three pigs among the assembled chiefs; and they accepted it as a proof
of their assent to the new law, and their promised aid in enforcing it.
After this the witnessing chiefs went to a cross-road and one of their
number proclaimed the new law. Lying on the ground he rubbed his mouth
in the dirt, and then striking his knees with his hands he called down a
bitter curse on any one who dared to break this edict.

This ceremony has often a very terrifying effect on the people, and he
will be a bold fellow who risks the curse.

Each chief returned to his village or town, and told all his people of
the new law and its penalties; thus, a day or two after the new rule was
made and promulgated at the cross-roads, every one affected by it had
heard of it.

It was now the duty of Old Plaited-Beard to follow up quickly any
infringement of the new command, no matter who the culprit might be; and
it was not long before a slave of a neighbouring chief carried a gun on
to a market and in a drunken quarrel severely wounded a man. Old
Plaited-Beard, the _N enkondo_, had to bestir himself at once to follow
up the man who had broken the law.

This activity was necessitated by a curious view taken by the natives of
laws in general. From the time a law was broken until the breaker of it
was punished, that particular law did not exist, it was broken, dead;
hence, for instance, any man could take a gun on a market and shoot
another person and go unpunished, because the law against that crime was
dead and could not be mended or brought again to life until the first
breaker of it was punished by paying the penalty. This ensured quick
dealing with culprits, and impartial administration of the law, for if a
chief broke the law he was judged immediately like an ordinary man and
paid the penalty, otherwise anarchy reigned until the law was vindicated
by the infliction of the fine on the law-breaker. To neglect to punish
the chief would mean that any one could repeat the crime with impunity,
for the law was dead.

The slave was quickly caught and brought before the chiefs; but as a
master is responsible for the actions of his slave, it was really the
owner who was on his trial and had to pay the fine of five pieces of
cloth and compensate the wounded man. On meeting all the demands the
master received his slave again, and did with him as he liked. The slave
was his property in the same sense as his goats, fowls or pigs, and
after cruelly punishing the man he sold him away from his wife and
children to a distant tribe of people, and we never saw nor heard of him
again.

The fines imposed on law-breakers are periodically divided among the
chiefs of the district. They are one source of their income, and repay
them for the trouble of administering the laws and governing the people.
Satu, of course, took a larger share of the fines than the other chiefs.
He not only presided over the palavers, but he also acted as treasurer
and stored the fines until the time of division, and if he had failed to
give the other chiefs their proper share at stated intervals, they would
have refused to judge cases with him, and the country would have quickly
become unmanageable and disorderly.

A share of the fines, however, would not support Satu as a chief and
noble; consequently he had to turn his attention to trading on the
markets and with the white men down at the coast. Bakula on account of
his smartness was often employed by his chief to sell pigs, cloth,
goats, gunpowder and other goods on the markets.

There are four days in a Congo week--_Konzo_, _N kenge_, _N sona_ and _N
kandu_, and these are also the names of the markets held on those days.
All the markets on a certain day all over our part of the Congo are
called _Konzo_, and all the markets next day are called _N kenge_, and
so on. These markets are all held in different places, _e. g._ all the
_Konzo_ markets are held in different places from all the rest of the
markets on the other three successive days; and these markets are so
arranged that one in four comes within two to five miles of every town
or village on the Lower Congo.

Thus one of the _Konzo_ markets was only four miles from our town; the
nearest _N kenge_ one was nine miles away from us, but near some other
towns, the nearest _N sona_ market was sixteen miles away, and the _N
kandu_ market was nearly twenty miles distant from us, but not far from
some other villages. Again, some of these markets were famous for
certain articles that were always to be found on sale at them. For
instance, at one _N kenge_ a person could always find pigs, and buyers
and sellers of pigs consequently travelled to that particular _N kenge_;
another _N kenge_ was noted for pots, calabashes and sauce-pans. One _N
sona_ would be noted for cloth and another for palm-wine. At all the
markets cassava roots, _kwanga_, or native bread, peanuts, beans and
various other food-stuffs were on sale, besides the speciality of the
market.

There are also five important markets that are held every eight days,
not on the same but on the successive eighth days. These are called _N
kenge_ _Elembelo_, held not far from the King’s town; _Konzo Kinsuka_,
about two days north of the previous one; two days farther north is
_Konzo Kikandikila_; three days north of that is _Konzo Makwekwe_, and
about another two days north, but on the other side of the great river,
is the _N kenge N kila_. Perhaps these great markets are to be found
well established much farther north and south of the points I have
named, and are only limited by the boundaries of the old kingdom of
Congo, which formerly included Landana on the north and Bihe on the
south.

While there were stringent laws against fighting, raiding, quarrelling
and capturing people on the markets, no law could be enforced to guard
small, unprotected parties on the way to or from the markets. Rowdy
rascals would lie in wait and pounce on any defenceless child or adult,
and, hurrying them away to some distant place, sell them into slavery,
to the intense grief of their relatives.

I heard Bakula once tell how his young sister was sent by her mother to
buy a saucepan at a market only four miles from home. She had bought the
vessel and was returning to her town in the company of some neighbours,
when, in a forest, she strayed from the path and was never heard of
again, although the whole town turned out to search the forest.

Now and again some of these daring, reckless scamps were caught, and the
whole countryside would wreak its vengeance on them, for there was
scarcely a family but had lost one or more of its members or some of its
goods by these kidnappings and robberies.

Bakula and some of the men were sent to the various markets far and near
to buy up rubber and tusks of ivory. Sometimes they would take pigs and
goats to sell, and having sold them would then buy what rubber and ivory
there were for sale on the market. At other times they would take cloth
and gunpowder to give in exchange for those products that white men
bought at the coast--rubber and ivory. Occasionally they had to go to
distant markets to buy pigs for cloth, and then travel to another market
to exchange the pigs for rubber, peanuts and tusks.

Thus the rubber and ivory were gradually accumulated by the richer
natives, and when enough were gathered a large caravan of men, from
eighty to a hundred and twenty in number, was dispatched to the trading
houses at the coast. As the natives could neither read nor write, it
needed a clear head and a complicated system of knots and notches to
keep a record of what was spent in pigs, goats, cloth and gunpowder in
buying up the little stores of rubber and ivory on the markets. A man
would tie a knot in a string for every pig sold, another string was used
for every goat, another for every keg of gunpowder, and a notch was cut
in a stick for every piece of cloth. By counting the knots and notches
he knew just how much the ivory, rubber and peanuts had cost him; he
also knew how much each man would “eat” on the road, and therefore he
was quite able to ask of, and only accept from, the white traders a
price that would pay for his stuff, meet the expenses of his carriers,
and leave him a fair margin of profit for his risk of capital and
trouble.

After months of petty trading on the markets, sufficient rubber, peanuts
and ivory were collected to warrant a journey to the coast. Satu himself
could not go, so he sent one of his head men, and told him how much he
wanted for the produce he was sending, which would require forty men to
carry it. Satu’s agent had ten loads, and neighbouring chiefs and head
men joined the caravan with their porters, so that when all were ready
to start there were nearly one hundred and forty men and lads in the
party, and as most had knives, guns or spears they were well able to
protect themselves on the long, wearisome road.

When all was arranged for the journey a “medicine man,” named _N gang’ a
mpungu_, or the Luck-giver, was called. He came with his bag, containing
pieces of leopard’s skin, hyæna’s skin, lion’s skin, and, in fact, a
piece of the skin of every strong animal he could procure, and also some
albino’s hair; and he carried with him his wooden fetish image with
grass tied round its neck, knotted back and front.

The “medicine man” sat in the middle of the caravan, which stood round
him with their bundles tied ready for the journey, and put the fetish
image in front of him. The _nganga_ spoke to the image, telling it to
give the traders good luck on the road and at the trading-station. A man
then held a fowl by the head and the “medicine man” took it by the body
and cut its head off and let the blood drop on the image. After this the
fowl was cooked and eaten outside the houses; and during and after this
ceremony no one could enter a house or turn back from the road.

The fowl having been eaten, a shell was brought containing very small
pieces of everything that was in the fetish bag of charms, and this
shell was placed on the road by which the men had to travel to the
coast. Every one in the caravan had then to step carefully over the
shell, for if any one had touched it he would not have been allowed to
proceed or he would die on the journey. Having passed safely over the
shell of charms, we were not to look back or our luck would have been
destroyed. Bakula performed these various rites in a very half-hearted
manner, for he was losing faith in them.

As we were starting the members of our party shouted to the people left
in the town: “Good health to you, and let no one follow us to give us
bad luck in trading”; and those left behind said: “Good journey to you,
and do not any of you return to bewitch us, or carry us to sell to the
white traders.” The idea behind these requests was that any living
person who is a _ndoki_, or witch, can visit a place by his _nkwiya_, or
evil spirit, and take a person away, or work them great harm by his
witchcraft. Hence they live in constant fear of each other, and all
their charms, fetishes, and witch-doctors are employed in protecting
them from one another. Before Bakula reached the shell his mother came
hurrying towards him, and, pretending to spit on his face, said: “May
you have all that you desire, may you have happiness and good luck, and
may your words find favour with the people.” It was her mode of saying
farewell to her son.

We were now fairly started on the road, and as all the omens were in our
favour and the _nganga_ had performed his ceremonies without the
slightest hitch, everybody was in good spirits, and more ready to laugh
and sing than grumble at the weight of the loads. Many points of
etiquette had to be remembered as we passed through the numerous towns
and villages on our road to the coast.

On passing through a village we were not allowed to let our sticks touch
the ground or we should destroy the luck of that place and that would
mean a heavy fine. While in the open country or bush many of the men
hitched up their cloths (exposing their thighs) to give greater freedom
to their legs; but on passing through a town they dropped their cloths
out of respect to the town, or otherwise they would have been taken to
the chief’s house and well beaten. In passing through any town every
carrier was careful not to put his load on his head, as that was
regarded as an exhibition of insolent pride, and would have aroused the
anger of the towns-people, and a fight, with heavy fines, would have
resulted. If we sat resting on the ground in any town we had to be
careful not to shake off the dust from our cloths until we got outside
the town, as such an action was regarded as putting a curse on the
place.

Tolls had to be paid for using all bridges and canoes in crossing the
larger rivers in our path; and a tax, according to the number of
carriers and the value of their loads, was demanded by the overlords of
the districts through which we passed. The non-observance of these
customs and points of etiquette led sometimes to quarrels and fights
between insolent travellers and insulted townsfolk.

On our arrival at the coast we were met by a native interpreter, who had
visited our town and given Satu twenty pieces of cloth on the
understanding that he was to have the privilege of selling our chief’s
“trade produce” to one of the white traders. This interpreter showed us
much hospitality, hoping thereby to be seller for the whole caravan.

The morning after our arrival we sorted Satu’s stuff into three
lots--ten loads of ivory, eight loads of peanuts, and twenty-two loads
of rubber. It was decided to sell the rubber first, so the men carried
their loads to the trader’s store accompanied by the interpreter. The
following conversation then took place, the white man and the
interpreter talking Portuguese, and the native trader and the
interpreter talking the vernacular--

Interpreter to white man: “How much for this rubber?”

The rubber was carefully examined and weighed.

White man: “I will give 200 pieces of cloth.”

Interpreter to native trader: “He will give you 80 pieces of cloth.”

Native trader: “That is not enough, I want 170 pieces.”

Interpreter to white man: “They want 250 pieces of cloth.”

White man: “That is too much; I will give 210 pieces.”

Interpreter to native trader: “He will give you 90 pieces.”

After much haggling the white man reached his limit of 220 pieces; and
after much talking, lasting nearly the whole day, the native trader
brought his price down to 150 pieces, and the interpreter worked his up
gradually to that amount. Being now agreed, the interpreter told the
white man to take the rubber, and pay 150 pieces to Satu’s agent. Satu
had instructed his agent not to take less than 135 pieces of cloth, and
had also informed him what goods he was to select from the store. Having
received fifteen pieces more than they anticipated, they reckoned that
they had sold to great advantage.

Having settled the price, we went over to the store to draw the goods.
Arranged round the store were the trade goods: cloths of various
colours, lengths and qualities; plates, dishes, basins, ewers, mugs,
cups, glasses, looking-glasses of different sizes, bright beads of
gorgeous colours, machets, knives and guns. In another store was a huge
pile of bags of salt, and isolated from the other houses was a store
full of gunpowder.

Satu’s agent, according to his instructions, picked out fifty pieces of
cloth; gunpowder to the value of fifty pieces, and fifty pieces worth of
beads, mugs, trinkets, rum and gin.

All these articles were carried over to the shed in which we were living
while transacting our business with the trader. Then the ivory was sold
in the same manner, and, the price having been settled, guns, powder,
liquor, blankets, cloth, etc., were selected up to the agreed amount.
The sale of the peanuts was a very simple matter. We put the nuts on the
scale, and salt was weighed against them, and when they balanced a gaudy
coloured plate was put on top and the sale was completed, _i. e._ we
received weight for weight in salt for our peanuts and a make-weight of
a plate on top of each load.

[Illustration: WHITE TRADER AND NATIVE TRADERS AND THEIR PRODUCE.]

Every article in the white man’s store had a price on it. It was either
equivalent to one piece of cloth, or to two or more pieces, or so many
of it equalled the value of one piece. The first kind of cloth taken to
Congo was probably of a common quality worth about 2_s_. for a piece of
twelve yards. By and by other qualities were taken, and they were
reckoned as equal to one and a half, two, or three pieces of the
original quality. Then the natives wanted other things besides cloth,
and as they were introduced the traders put a cloth value on them, _e.
g._ six knives were equal to one piece of cloth, eight looking-glasses
ditto, four strings of one kind of beads, or twenty strings of another
sort, were priced at one piece; and thus through the whole list of goods
stocked by the traders.

If a trader priced his goods high it was quickly known, and his store
was avoided by the natives. They always went to that store where they
received the best prices for their produce, where the articles in the
store were cheapest, and where they were treated properly.

We remained ten days at the coast, selling the rubber, peanuts and ivory
our caravan had brought from the interior. Some of the native traders
were dissatisfied with the prices offered by the white trader, or were
suspicious that the interpreter was retaining too much for himself, and
for these reasons went to other white men and employed other
interpreters; others of our party thought the prices of the store goods
were too high, and went to those traders whom they thought sold their
barter goods at reasonable rates.

It took us, as I have already stated, ten long, wearisome days of
haggling, bargaining and chaffering to dispose of our produce to the
best advantage. During this time our food supply was running low, and we
often had not half enough to eat. Food at the coast was very dear, and
we were all glad when our business was concluded and we could turn our
faces homeward.

The return journey was accomplished without any incident more serious
than the breaking of a few china ornaments belonging to Old
Plaited-Beard, who had seen such things in the King’s house and had
instructed his men to buy him similar ones with some of the produce he
had sent for sale. The man, however, who carried them slipped on some
huge boulders while crossing a river, and down he fell, cutting his own
knees and smashing the fragile contents of his load. The old man, when
he saw the results of the accident, did not blame his carrier of
carelessness, but rather accused some one of bewitching him and thus
causing the destruction of the goods. And with a look of hate in his
eyes and a curse on his lips he threatened to punish the witch.

All the men and lads of our party were glad to be again among their own
families. During the whole journey to and from the coast, and while at
the trading centre, they had eaten very sparingly, as food was heavy to
carry and very dear on the road; but now that they had returned they
made amends for lost time and hungry days. Huge dishes of food quickly
disappeared, and those who had become thin during the twenty-five days
of short rations began to fill out again, and those who were feeling
exhausted by the heavy loads they carried up and down hill and along
rugged, narrow tracks began, after some refreshing, restful sleeps, to
feel strong and active again and ready for the next trading expedition.




                              Chapter XIX
                      An Accusation and the Ordeal

Old Plaited-Beard charges Bakula with stealing--The accusation is
    denied--Bakula declares his disbelief in charms and
    witch-doctors--Satu saves him from immediate death--The missing
    cloth is found in Bakula’s house--Tumbu exposes the accuser’s
    trickery--He is ridiculed--Bakula submits to the ordeal of the
    boiling oil--His arm is badly scalded--During the night Bakula
    escapes to the mission station.


A few days after the return of the trading caravan, the whole town was
startled to hear that some one had stolen two pieces of cloth from Old
Plaited-Beard’s house. He was most emphatic and circumstantial as to
when and where he had left the cloth, and the disappearance of the
pieces. He borrowed a strong fetish from a friend, beat it soundly to
arouse it to action, held it three times above his head that its spirit
might rush through the air in pursuit of the thief, held it also three
times head downwards near the ground to enable the fetish spirit to run
along the earth after the robber, and then hung it by the neck to the
roof of his house. Then the old man waited a day or two, but the cloth
was not returned.

Old Plaited-Beard fumed in pretended rage about the loss of his cloth,
and at last accused Bakula of stealing it. The lad indignantly denied
the charge.

The old man said: “Ever since you met that white man in Tonzeka’s town
you have been a different lad. You do not enter into our fetish
palavers, you laugh at the witch-doctors, you destroyed the power of my
charms so that I did not kill a single animal through the whole of the
hunting season, you bewitched my carrier, thus causing the breaking of
all my crockery ornaments, and now you have stolen my cloth.”

“I am not guilty of any of these charges,” stoutly maintained the lad.
"I have not stolen your cloth! Search my house if you like, for since
our return from the trading journey to the coast I have not been to a
market, nor have I been out of the town except to bathe in the river, so
I have had no opportunity of disposing of the cloth. It is true that
since the white man put medicine on my wound, and talked to me about
God’s palaver I have lost my faith in charms and ‘medicine men.’"

A great crowd by now was surging round the two principal persons in this
strange scene, and a howl of derision went up from scores of throats
when the brave lad daringly avowed his disbelief in charms and
witch-doctors.

“He is a witch! Give him the ordeal!” shouted some. “Kill him!” screamed
others, “or he will bewitch all of us.”

And women held their children tightly to their bosoms, and begged them
not to follow the example of “that wicked boy.”

Satu came hurrying up to learn the cause of all the excitement, and when
the whole case was laid before him he felt a great pity for the lad, and
determined that he should have fair play; for he liked him, and had
admired his smartness in trade, and alertness in games, dancing and
hunting. Besides, he knew that his accuser, Old Plaited-Beard, hated the
boy for some unknown reason.

When, therefore, the mob again demanded either the ordeal or death for
the undaunted boy, the chief at once said: “No, let us search his house
as he desires, and if we find the cloth in it, then we will have a
palaver and punish him according to our laws.”

A rush was instantly made for Bakula’s house, where he lived with his
mother; but no one entered until the chief actors arrived, and then
Satu, Old Plaited-Beard, Bakula, and one or two others entered the
house; and after searching about the hut for a very short time Old
Plaited-Beard pulled the two pieces of cloth from a corner of the roof,
in the dark inner room, where they were concealed by some grass.

The discovery of the cloth was hailed with screams of laughter, shouts
of derision, and whistles of contempt. And if Satu had not been there,
my poor owner, Bakula, would have been torn to pieces by the infuriated
crowd, not because stealing was such a heinous crime in their
eyes--there was not an honest man, woman or youth among the whole mob of
screamers and shouters; but the discovery of the cloth in the house was
taken as a proof of his witchcraft and utter stupidity.

In a very short time Satu was seated with his head men ready to judge
the case. Old Plaited-Beard sat there with a snigger of triumph on his
evil face, and Bakula, crestfallen, confused, but undaunted, stood, the
centre of all eyes, the object of ridicule and contempt.

“Why did he not hide the cloth in the bush? Why was he such a fool as to
leave the cloth in his own house?” were questions everybody was asking.
The crowd derided Bakula for being a fool, rather than blamed him as a
thief.

The court was held on an open space in the centre of the town, beneath
the wide-spreading branches of a wild fig-tree. In a simple case like
this there were no advocates, and no sides taken as in a big law-suit.
Old Plaited-Beard told of the loss of the cloth, of his charging Bakula
with the theft, and the discovery of the cloth by himself in the accused
person’s house.

Bakula strenuously denied the theft, and gave a very clear account of
all that he had done and the people with whom he had been since his
return a few days ago. He appealed to Satu to state how he had accounted
for every yard of cloth he had used when trading on the markets for him,
and finished by saying that for some reason the _Nenkondo_ (the new
title of Old Plaited-Beard) hated him, and had more than once threatened
to do him some harm.

Old Plaited-Beard scornfully asked: “Do you think I should steal my own
cloth and put it in your house?”

Just then a lad, by name Tumbu, asked Satu for permission to speak, and,
trembling with excitement, said: “The other day, when the town was
nearly empty of people, I was lying down in my house, being too ill to
go with Bakula and the other lads to bathe in the river; and while I was
lying there I saw Nenkondo come along, and, after looking around on
every side, enter Bakula’s house, which is right opposite mine. I
watched him, and saw that he had something under his cloth; but when he
came out the something was gone, for his cloth was flat on his thighs.
Why did he go into Bakula’s house? and what did he leave there?”

Old Plaited-Beard was furious, and, choking with rage, he snapped out
the question: “Is Bakula a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” bravely answered the lad. “I am, as you know, a slave, and Bakula
has always been kind to me. He has given me food when I have been
hungry, and defended me from the taunts of the other boys and girls of
the town.”

Bakula, as soon as his friend had finished speaking, instantly sprang
forward, and said: “I accuse Nenkondo of stealing his own cloth and
putting it in my house. Tumbu is my witness to that; but there is no
witness to show that I have been in his house. He is the thief, not I!”

Satu consulted his head men for a considerable time; but at last said:
“There are two persons before us who accuse each other of thieving, and
it is difficult for us to decide. We will therefore call the _nganga_,
and will try the case to-morrow by the ordeal of the boiling oil; and
whichever one is proved guilty must pay a fine of five pieces of cloth.”

After this decision the crowd at once broke up, and that night around
the fires there was much speculation as to which of the two would prove
the guilty one.

Early the next afternoon a _nganga_ arrived with a deep vessel filled
with palm-oil. This was placed on a fire and attended to, while the
_nganga’s_ assistants walked about the town. One of these assistants
called to Bakula and asked him to show the way to the stream. When they
were a little out of the town the assistant turned, and said to Bakula:
“If you will give me fifty brass rods my master will put something on
your hand and arm so that the boiling oil will not burn you, and you
will be proved innocent. Will you pay me the money?”

“No; I am perfectly innocent of the charge,” replied Bakula, “and if
there is any truth in the ordeal, it will show all the people that I am
guiltless. For many moons now I have doubted witch-doctors, and believed
that they tricked us, laughed at us and robbed us.”

“You had better pay the money,” sneeringly retorted the _nganga’s_
assistant, “otherwise you will have to pay the five pieces of cloth.”

“Yes, I know your way,” replied the lad. “It is like this: I promise you
fifty rods, then you go to the other and he promises you sixty, and
after that you come to me and I promise seventy rods, and he offers
eighty, and it is the one who eventually gives you the largest amount
that wins the case by ordeal. No, I will not promise a single brass rod,
for I know I am innocent, and if the ordeal does not prove it I shall
know for a certainty that your _ngangas_ are liars and cheats, and your
ordeals trickeries and swindles.”

The assistant, heaping on him much abuse, and throwing at him many
epithets of reproach, called him an utter fool, and returned to the
town.

Later in the afternoon the drum sounded, and the people hurried to the
judging-place. Women had not been to the farms that day or had returned
very early; the men had not been to either market, forest or bush; and
people had come in from the surrounding villages, for everybody who
could be there was present, because no one wanted to miss so sensational
a sight as the ordeal by boiling oil.

Satu and his head men sat by themselves a few yards from the saucepan of
oil. Bakula and Old Plaited-Beard were at opposite sides of the circle
of people that watched the proceedings intently. Old Plaited-Beard was
called first, and approached the saucepan with a jaunty air, smirking
face, and anticipated triumph in every movement. He submitted his right
hand and arm to be rubbed with some decoction[63] by the _nganga_; a
piece of _kwanga_, or native bread, was dropped in the oil, and then,
with an insolent flourish, Old Plaited-Beard dipped in his hand and arm
and brought out the piece of _kwanga_. His skin was not scalded, he had
passed the ordeal successfully, and was thus proved innocent of the
charge.

Footnote 63:

  See note 51, p. 357.

On the plea that the first ceremonial use of the oil had cooled it too
much to be a proper test, the _nganga_ and his assistants heaped fire
about the pot, and it was not until the oil began to bubble that the
“medicine man” pronounced it ready for the other accused person.

My owner, Bakula, now went forward with set face and steady step to
where the saucepan of oil was sending up jets of steam. I could feel his
chest heaving, his breath coming and going in quick, short gasps, his
body trembling with the excitement of the hour, and his heart pulsating
turbulently.

The tension was great, the sea of faces seemed to crowd about and press
in upon him; and as he drew near the saucepan he could see the glint of
hatred and triumph in the _nganga’s_ eyes, but he answered them with a
look of defiance.

The _nganga_ rubbed something on the lad’s arm and hand, and dropped the
piece of _kwanga_ in the bubbling oil.

Every head in that great crowd was bent forward, and, as a hush fell on
the assembly, every eye was fixed on the lonely, slim, young figure
standing before that saucepan of fiery oil.

Without hesitation, for he was absolutely sure of his guiltlessness,
Bakula boldly dipped his hand in the boiling liquid, but before he could
reach the _kwanga_ at the bottom of the saucepan, a paroxysm of pain
seized him and, with a scream of agony, he fell fainting to the ground.

His friend Tumbu and the chief hurried to him and warded off, by their
bodies, any intended blows upon the prostrate, unconscious lad; and
between them they carried him to his hut.

When Bakula returned to consciousness he was lying on his rough bamboo
bed, and his mother, with unskilled kindness, was trying to bind up that
burning arm in poultices of leaves, and Tumbu was weeping by his side.

Tumbu told his suffering friend that Satu had paid the five pieces of
cloth and the _nganga’s_ fee, and the matter was therefore settled.

“And,” continued he, “although everybody in the town thinks you stole
the cloth, I know you did not.”

Bakula then told his faithful companion how the _nganga’s_ assistant had
come to him before the ordeal, and had asked for money; that there was
no doubt the Nenkondo had given a bribe, and so had passed the ordeal
without a burn; and, emphatically asserted the lad, “After this I will
never again believe in _ngangas_, nor in charms, nor in ordeals. I am
innocent, but look at my arm.”

The two friends sat talking all the evening, and at last Bakula said:
“To-night I am going to escape to the white man’s station. He will heal
my scalded arm, and teach me God’s palaver.”

“Wait until the morning,” pleaded Tumbu. “Don’t travel in the dark, or
the evil spirits will throttle and squeeze the life out of you.”

“Who talks about evil spirits?” asked Bakula. "Only the ‘medicine men,’
and perhaps what they tell us about them is as great a lie as their
charms, fetishes and ordeals. I will test that to-night as I have tested
their other teaching to-day." And a look of undaunted determination came
into the brave fellow’s face, which, being seen by Tumbu in the
flickering firelight, stopped his further arguments.

It was towards midnight that Bakula took farewell of his mother, and
creeping from his house with stealthy steps, passed through the sleeping
town and into the darkness of the silent, tangled, spirit-haunted bush.
What lay before him? Would it always be the darkness, the tangled paths
environed with fearful spirits? Or would he come into the light, that
would show him the straight, clear road, and, chasing away the evil
spirits of darkness, reveal the ministering angels of the white man’s
God?




                               Chapter XX
                            Bakula at School

After much nursing Bakula recovers--He becomes a school-boy--He
    struggles with the alphabet--He learns to understand
    pictures--Routine life--Bakula itinerates with his white man--He
    does not relish sleeping in the wet bush--He is convicted of sin--He
    inquires the way of salvation--The lads play a trick on a
    witch-doctor--Bakula is received into the Church--He returns to his
    town.


After a long, weary walk Bakula reached his uncle’s town, and, staying
only to tell him the news, and show him his scalded arm, continued his
journey to the mission station. By the time he arrived he was feverish
and his arm very painful. The missionary in charge of the medical work
at once dressed the inflamed arm and put the exhausted lad to bed.

For many days Bakula was delirious, repeating with monotonous
reiteration his innocence and the dipping of his arm in the boiling oil.
At times the missionaries feared he would die; that the strain, the
scalding, and the fatiguing walk would prove too much for him; but at
last he began to recover--skilled treatment, regular food, and careful
attention triumphed; and the lad was in due time walking about, little
the worse, except for the scars on his arm, for the ordeal through which
he had passed.

[Illustration: _Photo_]     THE REV. JOHN H. WEEKS AND HIS
BOYS.      [_Rev. J. H. Weeks._]

Bakula, on his recovery, found himself in a new world. When asked if he
would like to stay on the station and be taught, he, immediately and
gladly, accepted the invitation, and was handed over to the white man in
whose district[64] his town happened to be.

Footnote 64:

  See note 52, p. 357.

Bakula had always thought that “books talked” to the white men. In
common with other natives he had said, when he saw a white man looking
at a book and laughing: “The book is saying something funny to him.” He
was therefore disappointed to find that the white teacher gave him no
“medicine” to cause him to understand “book language,” and performed no
magic over him to open his ears to the “whispers of book talk”; but that
it was a matter of learning properly those curiously twisted and
contorted marks called a, b, d, e; and he also found that so many of
them changed their appearance when _written_, and again altered “their
legs and arms” when they grew into _big_ letters that he was puzzled,
and sometimes feared that he would never know them.

How elusive those letters were! Just as he had mastered them on the
printed sheet they changed themselves on the blackboard; and when he
wanted to write the “full-grown ones,” and drew them as he remembered
them on the sheet, he was told they were wrong, and had to train his
hand to all kinds of curves and scrolls. It was like learning four
alphabets; but by perseverance and attention he conquered them, so that,
no matter what their disguises might be, he recognized them, and would
say: “Oh yes, Mr. S; you can curve your back like this, S, or lean half
yourself on a stick thus, [cursive s], but I know you.”

Meanwhile he had learned to put two letters together and make syllables,
and from that accomplishment he was led on to connect the syllables and
form words; and from that point the school work became more interesting.
Now that the building was showing above the ground he could see the
reason for all the foundation work. By the time he had been in the
school about two years he was nearing the top classes, and, laughing at
the mistakes of newer boys, encouraged them, by his own example, to
conquer their difficulties.

Bakula also found there was another language to learn--that of pictures.
He had seen pictures at a distance in the houses of the traders, and
they had simply been a blurred whole, like the pages of a book written
in unknown characters. In the house of the white man, where he spent
many a pleasant evening, he saw some copies of the _Graphic_.

At first he was unable to take in a picture as a whole. He held the
illustrations upside down, or sideways, and more often the wrong way
than the right one. In time, order seemed to emerge out of the chaos of
marks and lines, then he would pick out a feature and say: “That is a
nose, or a mouth, or an eye,” as the case might be, and thus he traced
out a man or a woman and said: “Why, it is a person!” He did the same
with a house, picking out the details, as a door or window, etc., and
the same with scenery.

Later he could take in all the details at once. He had to learn to
understand pictures by the same method that he learned to read--first
the a, b, d, then the _t a t a_ = tata (or father), and lastly the whole
word or sentence at a glance. Sometimes he had to appeal to the white
man to explain a difficult detail, as a railway, a ship, or a horse; but
gradually the pictures opened up a mine of information, and introduced
him to new worlds of wonder.

A white man laughingly joked him one day about the pain and
inconvenience Congo women suffered in wearing heavy brass collars round
their necks, and on their legs anklets of great weight in order to be in
the fashion; but Bakula quickly turned over the pictures, and finding a
fashion plate that depicted a woman with a very tiny waist, he seriously
asked: “Which is the more ridiculous--to wear a brass collar round the
neck, or to have a waist like a wasp’s?”

During all these months Bakula had worked each day for four hours either
on the farm or in the brick-field--puddling clay, fetching water,
carrying the clay, or, as he became more expert, making bricks.

The life on the station was very regular. At 6 a.m. the boys rose to the
clanging of a bell, and went to work either on the farm, the
brick-field, or in the houses of the missionaries; from 8 to 9.30 was
taken for breakfast and a short service, and then each gang of boys
arranged themselves outside the house of the white man who was working
the district from which they came. They stood in lines according to
ages. At these parades the white man listened to all complaints, settled
all palavers, instructed his group of boys in station matters, taught
them, when necessary, on points of behaviour, and gave them the tickets
for the day’s rations. The hours from 10 to 12 were spent in school, and
from then until 2 p.m. at dinner and play.

Then came two more hours of schooling, and from four o’clock until
sunset at six[65] the boys engaged in farming, brick-making, or working
in their masters’ houses. Thus each day there were four hours for work,
four hours for school, three hours for eating and playing, and one hour
for religious instruction.

Footnote 65:

  See note 53, p. 358.

On Saturdays there was no school, but the boys worked at their various
employments or tidied up the station, except from 8 to 10 a.m., when the
lads had their breakfasts, religious service, and the usual daily parade
outside the houses of their respective white men. At one o’clock the
stop bell rang, and every boy received a piece of soap and went off
after dinner to do his washing and have a swim in a neighbouring river.

Besides the employments already mentioned there were others, as
printing, bookbinding, composing, carpentry, bricklaying, washing and
ironing, cutting out and sewing jackets for the boys on the station,
cooking, and house-cleaning. For these occupations special lads who
showed aptitude were selected and taught, and they received small
rewards according to their skill and industry.

On Sundays there were services, and a Sunday-school on the station, and
all scholars, unless ill, attended them. The missionaries, according to
opportunity, health and weather, visited the neighbouring towns, both on
week-days and Sundays, to hold services in them.

Bakula sometimes accompanied his white man on these preaching journeys
to help in the singing at the services, and to carry a small load. At
one place the people were so hostile that they would not allow the
little party to remain in their village. They were not sufficiently
courageous to demonstrate against the visitors with guns and knives, but
were superstitious enough to drive them out with abuse, the shaking of
their fetishes, and threats of what they would do if the white man and
his boys tried to enter their village. It was a cold, wet evening, and
the party was anything but cheerful sitting there in the bush with the
rain falling in a continuous, monotonous patter about them.

Bakula now knew what it was to be misunderstood, and did not relish the
experience. His intentions were friendly. Why were the people so
foolish! He resented the treatment meted out to him and his white man,
and, turning to the missionary, he said: “God is very strong, ask Him to
punish these people severely for their conduct to us.”

[Illustration: CLOTH WEAVING.]

[Illustration: BLACKSMITHS.]

To him the teacher replied: “Supposing the white man had asked God to
punish you and your people for driving him out of your town. Where would
you be now? Not sitting there, but dead, without an opportunity of
hearing of His great love. We will not ask God to punish them; but we
will pray that He may do for these people what He has done for you,
Satu, and your towns-folk: so change their hearts and superstitious
thoughts about us that another day they will gladly invite us to stay in
their town.”

Before very long the rain had ceased, some grass and wood were
collected, and the white man, soaking a paper with kerosene, and putting
the grass and wood over it, soon had a blazing fire that thawed the
hearts and tongues of the lads. In a few minutes they were laughing and
joking as though they were in their cosy houses on the station, instead
of being in the wet bush outside a hostile, inhospitable village with a
very superstitious people shaking their charms at them not fifty yards
away. Bakula never forgot this incident, and his constant prayer was: “O
God, open the hearts of the people to understand Thy messengers and to
receive Thy message.”

Bakula was a great acquisition to the other boys on the station. He
entered heartily into all their games, was a leader in many of their
sports, and told them many a story around their evening fires. His
humorous, merry ways, his amusing manner in telling a story, his
cheerful, obliging disposition, his common-sense way of looking at
things, his marked ability in school, and his genuine earnestness made
him the favourite of all on the station, both white and black. He had
discarded all his charms and had learned that a lad’s position was not
due to them, but to his own disposition and willingness to oblige
others.

One morning, when Bakula had been on the station about three years, he
heard one of the white men give an address on the Parable of the Ten
Virgins, and the narrative and teaching so stirred his heart with the
fear that he would be left in the outer darkness, that all through the
day he was unusually quiet, and at meal-times scarcely ate anything.

At night he started up more than once from horrid dreams with the awful
words ringing in his ears: “I know you not.” For several days he bore
this soul agony, and at last resolved to lay the whole matter before his
white friend.

It was easy to converse with the white man about pictures, _Mputu_, and
many other palavers when other boys were about, or even alone; but
Bakula shrank from talking about the inmost feelings of his heart,
although he knew he would be listened to kindly and sympathetically.
With much shyness, therefore, he went one evening to his teacher and
asked for a talk with him. He was received with a smile of welcome and
taken into the white man’s room, and the door was shut upon them. The
white man had noticed Bakula’s quietness, had partly surmised the
reason, and was not surprised at the request for a talk on God’s
palaver.

Now that Bakula was sitting there he found it difficult to begin. When
he opened his mouth no sound issued, for a lump seemed to rise in his
throat and block the passage. His friend chatted to him until he felt
more at ease, and then he poured out all the pent-up feelings of his
heart, and gave expression to the thoughts of his long broodings. He
told the white man of the address he had heard, of his dreams, of his
fears that Christ would not know him, and of the many sins of adultery,
robbery, cheating, lying and false accusation of which he had been
guilty. He laid bare his whole previous life in all its ghastly
wickedness until the white man felt it crowding on and pressing down his
own soul.

Tears rolled down the lad’s cheeks as he asked if God’s Son would know
such a guilty one as he, and could He forgive so many sins? The teacher
spoke to him quietly and earnestly, read to him various passages from
God’s own Word, and, after praying with him, dismissed him to his bed
comforted and happy.

It was very late when Bakula left the white man’s house, but it was
quite early when he arose next morning from a refreshing sleep. The sun
was shining not only on the hills and valleys around him, but also into
his heart, and he could not repress one hymn he had learned in school,
though he had never fully realized its beauty and meaning until now:
“Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so.”

The boys who occupied the dormitory with him turned and asked: “What is
the matter with you?”

“Oh, I had a long talk with the white man last night about God’s
palaver,” he answered cheerfully, “and I feel very happy now.” And at
once he told them of the address, and pleaded with them to prepare for
the coming of Christ, so that He might know them on His arrival.

Several months passed, during which time Bakula took part in the prayer
meetings, and at the services of the Christian Band he often gave a
short address. He was eager to accompany the teacher to the various
towns in the neighbourhood, and frequently used the scars on his arm as
a text. He then, with soul-earnestness and much eloquence, declaimed
against the trickery and lies of the witch-doctors, the uselessness of
their charms, and the deception of their ordeals.

On one occasion the white man, Bakula, and some other lads were spending
the evening in a town. The service was over, the teacher had retired to
his hut, and Bakula and his companions had stretched themselves upon
their mats in another hut that had been lent to them. During the night
they were disturbed by the entrance of a witch-doctor, who hid something
in a saucepan. Thinking he was up to one of his tricks, Bakula removed
the thing and put it in another place.

In the morning the _nganga_, who was employed to destroy the power of an
evil spirit that was troubling a family in the town, was up early
shouting at the spirit to desist. He threatened it, fired his gun
repeatedly at it, and after much rushing about and wild gesticulations,
he declared at last that he had caught the evil spirit. He led the
suffering family to the hut he had visited during the previous night,
and entering it triumphantly, prepared his clients, by his boastful
talk, for a great _dénouement_; but, behold, the entrapped spirit was
gone.

When the lads, later in the day, brought out the “something,” they found
it was tied up in imitation of a corpse, and on opening it, discovered
inside a piece of _kwanga_, or native bread, and inside that a fowl’s
bladder full of blood. The lads had a hearty laugh over the incident,
and their disbelief in _ngangas_ was greatly strengthened by this
exposure of their trickery.

If the witch-doctor had found the bundle where he had placed it, he
would, after much incantation and dancing, have pierced it with his
knife, and as the blood flowed from it he would have claimed to have
trapped and killed the evil spirit. The deluded family would have paid
him a large fee, and after a time, feeling no better, would have sent
for another _nganga_ and been deceived in another way. They were saved
at least the payment of one large fee by the lads to whom they had lent
the house.

The white men on the station watched Bakula very carefully, and often
spoke about him to each other as one whose life and conduct showed that
he was fully fit to be a member of the Church that had recently been
formed there. But no pressure was put on him, as it was felt desirable,
on account of the persecution all native Christians then suffered, that
the request for baptism and Church membership should be entirely
spontaneous.

After many months Bakula applied for baptism and entrance to the Church.
He was told of all it might mean to him--persecution, ridicule, and
perhaps death. But his answers were such that he was duly received into
the little Church, and with quivering heart and tears of joyous
amazement in his eyes he partook for the first time of the Lord’s
Supper.

During these years he had paid more than one visit to his home. His
mother had received him with hearty welcomes, Satu had had long and
frequent talks with him about the white men and their teaching, and the
lads and lasses in the town had regarded his accomplishments in reading
and writing with awe, envy, and superstitious fear.

Old Plaited-Beard always looked at him askant, with eyes full of hatred
and malignity; but Tumbu, his slave friend, never left his side during
those visits except to sleep. He followed him like a faithful dog, with
eyes full of admiration and humble love.

The time came at last for Bakula to return to his town and live there.
He asked his white friend for a few slates, pencils, reading-sheets and
spelling-books, as he had decided to start, if possible, a school among
his own people. These were gladly given to him, and, taking farewell of
his many friends, both black and white, he commenced his return journey.

How different was this last going from his first coming! The darkness
had given place to the light, the tangled, crooked path had become
straight, though narrow and rough, and the evil spirits of fetishism no
longer haunted his life with terror and horror, for they had been
displaced by the ministering angels of God.




                              Chapter XXI
                         Bakula’s Work checked

The conservatism of the Congo people--Bakula and his scholars build a
    school-house--A missionary visits his town--He encourages Bakula in
    his work--A “luck fowl” dies--Its death is put to the credit of the
    missionary’s visit and teaching--The school-house is pulled
    down--Satu is afraid to interfere--Native way of punishing an
    unpopular chief.


Bakula had not been back many days before he asked Satu for permission
to open a school for the boys in the town. The chief gave his consent,
but was very doubtful how the townsfolk would regard the innovation.

For untold generations they, their fathers, and their forefathers had
gone on in the same way. They had built their huts with either grass,
mud, or rough plank walls; they had scratched the ground on their farms
with little hoes; and when ill in health, unlucky in fighting, trading,
hunting or in domestic affairs, they had nearly sixty wizards, or
“medicine men,” to reverse their luck by their ceremonies, charms,
fetishes and magical decoctions. They had kept their accounts with knots
tied in strings, or notches cut on tallies; they had always hunted in
the same way, fished in the same way, traded, travelled, lived and died
in the same way. What, therefore, was the use of changing now?

They were a very conservative people that had always killed off the
progressives--those troublesome fellows who wanted to introduce new
methods of building, new articles of trade, new ideas, and new ways of
using old materials. Men who in other countries were called inventive
geniuses were accounted horrible witches in Satu’s town. The man who
discovered the method of tapping palm-trees for palm-wine was killed as
a witch; the men who first traded in rubber and ivory were regarded with
suspicion, and treated as folk full of witchcraft; and the man who took
the first load of gum copal to the traders was told never to take
another, or he “would see plenty trouble.”

It was in the midst of such a people that Bakula started his school.
Tumbu, of course, attended it. Many other boys came out of curiosity,
and finding no magic in it, no short-cut to book learning, their ardour
cooled, and they dropped away; and there were no school inspectors to
inflict fines and penalties for non-attendance. A few had sufficient
courage and perseverance to attend regularly, and these made some
progress in the mastery of their letters and syllables.

Bakula so enthused his few scholars that at the end of the dry season
they decided to band together and build a grass hut in which to hold
their school during the coming rains. It was no small bit of work for a
few lads, with poor tools, to undertake. Rafters, king posts,
stanchions, and wall plates had to be cut in the forests and conveyed
into the town on their heads or shoulders; grass must be cut, dried,
combed and carried from the bush to the site; and string had to be
prepared from forest vines and swamp reeds.

Then there was a floor to be raised and beaten, holes to be dug, and all
the materials fitted and tied together to form the hut. It was a simple
structure with no windows, but a large door that answered all purposes,
and the boys were proud of it. If you had seen it you might have laughed
at it; but could you have built a better one with the same tools and
materials?

Every morning the school was opened with prayer, singing, and the
reading of a portion from the Gospel of Matthew--the only Gospel then
translated into the language of the people. Occasionally men and women
came, and, standing about the door, listened to the simple service. Many
ridiculed the whole palaver; a few, however, were impressed, and came
repeatedly; and, encouraged by them, Bakula started a Sunday service;
but out of more than 1,500 people in the town, only from ten to twenty
attended it.

One day Bakula’s heart was gladdened by the arrival of one of the
missionaries on his way from the Ngombe district to the King’s town. He
was trying to open up the country, visiting the towns and preaching in
them as opportunity offered. Satu welcomed him heartily, and Bakula and
his small class of scholars were delighted to see him. The missionary
examined the school, and by his presence and words of praise encouraged
the teacher and his pupils to continue their efforts.

The white man had long talks with Satu, and suggested that the next day
a crier should be sent through the town to invite the people to come and
hear God’s palaver. The time, however, was not ripe for such a service,
for only a few responded, and they came more to ingratiate themselves
with their chief than to listen to the white man.

This white man was a zealous teacher, thoroughly in earnest and well
acquainted with the people’s language. No opportunity was missed by him
of speaking to the twos and threes. Here he was to be found in
conversation with some swaggering young men, there talking to a few old
men, and again in another place arguing with some of the head men. He
was a man of great attainments and wide knowledge, yet he exhibited no
annoyance as he dealt with their puny reasoning, and unfolded the weak
places in their arguments. He was like a giant handling pigmies,
tenderly and persuasively. Bakula was sorry when his visitor had to pass
on his way to other towns, and to open up the road across country upon
which his heart was set; but the young teacher never forgot the words of
encouragement he received from the white man in their private talks.

A short time after this visit the “luck fowl” (or _nsusu a zumbi_)
belonging to one of the head men died without any apparent reason. It
had probably eaten unwisely, or had been bitten by a snake; but the
owner put it to the credit of the white men who had just visited their
town. Everybody remembered that, immediately after the promised visit of
the white man whom they had previously driven out of the town, a pig
died.

They argued thus: "A white man came to us with God’s palaver, and a pig
died soon after he left; another white man came on the same errand, and
before many days had passed a ‘luck fowl’ died, therefore it was most
foolish to have anything to do with God’s palaver." They conveniently
forgot all the pigs and “luck fowls” that had died before the white men
ever came near them, and only remembered these two that had died after
their visits.

There was a great to-do in the town over the unfortunate death of this
“luck fowl.” The owner raved against the school that had been opened by
Bakula, against the visits of the white men, and against the
introduction of new ideas of any kind. The more superstitious folk in
the place combined to close the school and pull down the school-house.
Many were indifferent to the whole matter, and a few were for letting
the boys alone. There was much discussion; but the party for the
“medicine men,” the fetishes, the charms, and for maintaining the
_status quo_ being the larger, the noisier, and more dominant faction,
gained their point, and, while demolishing the school, destroyed as many
books and slates as fell into their possession.

Poor Bakula was nonplussed by this calamity, and the other boys for a
time were disheartened; but there is a great amount of grit and
determination in the Congo character, and before long the lads were
meeting in Bakula’s house for their lessons and for such teaching as
their young tutor could give them.

Satu, the chief, tried to stem the current of popular feeling and turn
it away from Bakula, but he failed even to save the school-house. Native
chiefs have power only to make the people do what they want to do; and
they generally have to bow their heads before the whirlwinds of popular
sentiment and feeling. This was Satu’s case. Neither his heart nor his
intellect had been awakened by the new teaching, consequently he was not
yet prepared to suffer either abuse or unpopularity for the sake of
God’s palaver and all that it meant.

The natives have a way of their own in punishing an unpopular chief, as
the following incident will show, which I heard a man relate one day to
Bakula with much laughter: There was a chief of a neighbouring village
who treated his people very contemptuously, and was always, on one
pretext or another, exacting fowls, cloth or other goods from them. They
bore patiently with him as long as possible, but at last his
unreasonable demands became too excessive; so one day they bound him
securely, placed him on a shelf in his own house, made a fire under him,
and having sprinkled a quantity of red pepper on the fire, went out and
shut the door.

The chief sneezed tremendously, and would have died if sufficient pepper
had been put on the fire. After a time they took him out of the smoke
and tied his extended arms to a cross-stick, and would have punished him
further; but he paid a heavy fine, and has been much better since the
sneezing cure was tried on him.




                              Chapter XXII
                  Bakula Falsely Accused and Murdered

Failure of various remedies--Witch-doctor engaged--Diagnosing a
    case--Different “medicine men” are called in--Bakula denounces their
    trickery--Suspicion of witchcraft falls on Bakula--Native attempts
    to rid themselves of death, sickness, etc.--Preparing a corpse for
    the grave--Bakula is accused of bewitching his mother to death--He
    is guarded by Old Plaited-Beard through the night--He is taken to
    the hill-top.--He falls and is done to death--Tumbu buries the
    mangled body of his friend.


A few weeks after the closing of the school, as narrated in the
preceding chapter, Bakula’s mother fell seriously ill of a chest
complaint. Many remedies were tried, but failed to relieve her. Some
neighbourly women sat with her by day and attended her at night, and
numberless were the sure cures they recommended; but although applied
they proved utterly futile. Her family at last decided, much against the
wish of Bakula, to send for the “medicine man” who cures by herbs,
fetishes and charms. He was called _ngang’a wuka_.

As already stated,[66] each of these various _ngangas_ (and there are
nearly sixty different kinds) must find his way to the village and to
the house of his client without either guidance or instruction, and he
must also discover the disease from which his patient is suffering or
the cause of death without asking a single direct question.

Footnote 66:

  See Chapter VII.

In due time the “medicine man” arrived in front of his patient’s house,
having reached it by the usual stratagem of his assistant dropping
leaves and twigs to indicate the road. He was a stout man with shrewd,
quick, shifty eyes, and was dressed in the usual fantastic style, and
carried a bag of charms slung from his shoulder. He seated himself
outside the sick woman’s house, and a crowd quickly formed a circle
round him.

The native “doctor” in diagnosing the case could not ask any direct
questions of his patient--in fact she was in the house and he sat
outside; but he met that difficulty thus: He asked a series of indirect
questions, and when those present said “Ndungu” he knew he was on the
wrong tack, and when they replied “Otuama” he knew at once he was
guessing rightly, and the more excitedly they called out the latter word
the nearer he knew he was to the truth, and the more indifferently they
uttered “Ndungu” the farther he understood he was from the real
complaint. Hence he started in this way--

“There are such things as backaches and headaches.” “Ndungu,” quietly
said the folk.

“Sometimes there are pains in the legs.” “Ndungu,” was very coldly
uttered by the crowd. The _nganga_ recognized that he was on the wrong
scent; but still he had managed to narrow the circle of affected parts,
so he began again.

“There are such things as pains in the arms and thighs.” “Ndungu,”
indifferently replied the people.

“Sometimes there are pains in the chest and stomach.” “Otuama,” uttered
the poor folk.

He now knew his patient was suffering either from a bad stomach or
chest, and he continued to narrow it down in this manner until at last
he said: “Ah! her chest is very bad.” The people excitedly shouted,
“Otuama,” snapped their fingers, and looked at the _nganga_ with
awe-filled eyes.

The “doctor” now knew that his patient’s chest was the seat of the
trouble. What are the most common complaints of the chest? Hacking
coughs, asthma, bronchitis, pleurisy, and pneumonia. So he started off
to discover the particular disease from which the woman was suffering
and the part affected. The people coldly said “Ndungu” when he missed
his guess, or frantically called out “Otuama”; by this cunning process
he narrowed the circle smaller and smaller, until at last, to their
astonishment, he said: “The woman is suffering from pleurisy (_ntulu_)
on the right side of the chest.”

The people thought that such a clever man, who had found out all about
the disease without being told and without seeing the patient, was just
the person to cure the complaint. He was consequently engaged at once
and well paid. He made no proper examination of the patient, but took
out some of his herbs and charms, and beating them into a paste told
them to rub the woman’s chest with the preparation.

After two or three days, Bakula’s mother feeling no better, the family
sent to _ngang’ a moko_. The messenger who went to her, for this
witch-doctor is generally a woman, took with him a red bead which he
gave to the _nganga_, who put it under her pillow that she might in a
dream discover the cause of her patient’s complaint--whether it is a
mere ailment, or a bewitchment by some evil spirit.

The _nganga_ received her fee of one good fowl and fifty brass rods, and
that night placed the bead beneath her pillow; but whether she dreamed
or not I do not know. However, in the morning she told the messenger
that the first “doctor” was unable to effect a cure because some one was
bewitching the sick woman, and the family must send for a wizard to kill
the evil spirit that was troubling her, and then she would soon recover
from her complaint.

When the message was delivered Bakula, who was standing by, at once
denounced the cheating trickery of the _ngangas_, and told how he, with
others, had exposed one of these spirit-killing wizards in a certain
town. He explained the whole process even to the piece of _kwanga_
wrapped up to imitate a corpse, with the fowl’s bladder of blood inside.
The people looked at him with horror-stricken eyes, recoiled from him in
terror, and with raised fingers accused him of being a _ndoki_, or evil
spirit, as otherwise he could not have meddled with the _nganga_ and his
things and not have suffered for it.

Bakula denied the cruel charge; but from that day he was regarded by the
people with unfriendly suspicion, and was shunned by them. But for his
slave friend, Tumbu, and his former scholars he would have led a very
lonely life.

The spirit-killing witch-doctor was called, and made the night hideous
with his shouts, threats, screams and gun-firing. He worked hard at his
craft, received his fee and went; but the poor woman still continued
ill, and, in fact, became much worse--the pain at her right side was
acute, the breathing difficult, and the fever high. Her moaning was
continuous, and the women who attended her knew not what to do for her
relief. They were unskilled nurses and lacked knowledge rather than the
feminine qualities of caring for the sick. There were no foods for
invalids, no dainties to tempt a patient’s appetite--the sick had either
to eat what the robust and healthy ate or go without. Many patients have
died of hunger rather than of the diseases from which they suffered.

The practice of the witch-doctor was sheer quackery, and rested more on
the exorcism of evil spirits by magical charms, incantations and
concoctions, than on a knowledge of physiology, disease and medicine.
The wonder was that any one survived the various treatments, and, in
fact, only the fittest and strongest did recover from serious illnesses.

Bakula’s mother continued to grow worse. How he wished they were near
the mission station, where she could have the help of those who cured
his oil-scalded arm and nursed him so carefully; but the station was too
far away! He attended his mother assiduously, and would have done more
for her, but the women drove him out of the hut with jeers and curses,
after his denouncement of the witch-doctor and their tricks. Poor
creatures! they knew no better, they were doing their very best for the
patient. They were simply safeguarding her from one whom they thought
was full of witchcraft.

Another “doctor” was called, among whose outfit were several traps
especially made for catching evil spirits. Having put a little fowl’s
blood into each of the traps, he placed them around the doors of the
house in which the sick woman was tossing in her efforts to breathe
freely. He then pounded some herbs and chalk together, mixed them in
palm-wine, and giving the patient this decoction to drink, sat down to
watch the entrance of any evil spirit into his traps, disguised as
cockroaches or spiders. Although he caught and killed several of the
supposed evil spirits, _i. e._ several spiders and cockroaches, and
therefore, according to his statements, the woman would now recover
quickly, yet she grew worse.

In their desperation the family sent for yet another wizard who had the
power to converse with spirits, and consequently was able to ask them
why they were inflicting so bad an illness on the suffering woman! He
came with his fetish, and, before locking himself in a house, told the
people that they would see the house shake as he talked with the
spirits. The family sat around the place listening and watching
intently.

In a short time they saw the hut quivering and heard the _bitodi_ fetish
speaking and the spirits talking, and the answering voices were male and
female, old and young.

After a long consultation between the _nganga’s_ _bitodi_ fetish and the
spirits (_nkwiya_), the wizard came out, and said: “Some member of the
family is guilty of breaking the country customs, laughing at _ngangas_,
and throwing his (or her) charms away, consequently this sickness has
come as a punishment. This same member has also a _ndoki_ (or evil
spirit), and whoever it is must bless the patient so as to remove the
evil influence from her.”

Suspicion instantly fell on my owner, Bakula, for who else had broken
the country customs but he! Had he not learned to read! Had he not
accepted the white man’s palaver, and renounced his charms! Had he not
laughed at _ngangas_ and denounced their rites and ceremonies as
cheating tricks!

Bakula was dragged into the hut to bless his mother. He solemnly took
her right hand and, pretending to spit on it, said: “May you have
blessing and good fortune.” Then he was hurried out of the room of his
dying mother.

This particular “doctor,” to prove his _bona fides_, had heated a machet
red hot three times, and had drawn it each time across his tongue. What
better proof did the natives need than this of the _nganga’s_ magical
power to converse with spirits? He received a large fee of more than ten
shillings’ worth of trade goods, and went his way, leaving his victim to
bear the brunt of the family’s vengeance.

The _nganga_ had not been gone many hours when the woman breathed her
last, and poor Bakula was left motherless. His neighbours and relatives
eyed his sorrow with contemptuous suspicion, and already began to
whisper among themselves that he was the _ndoki_ (or evil spirit) who
had caused his own mother’s death. They thoughtlessly disregarded the
true affection that the young man had always shown for his mother, his
readiness to help her, and his sincere grief now that she was gone. They
only considered and repeated to each other what the witch-doctor had
said about breaking the country customs, laughing at wizards, and
neglecting his charms. They could regard him in no other light than as
the real cause of his mother’s illness and death.

For generations they and their forefathers had believed that disease and
death were unnatural, and would not exist on the earth for a single day
if there were no wickedly-disposed persons who used evil spirits to kill
their relatives by incurable diseases. They did not know that their
“medicine men” covered their ignorance, quackeries and failures by these
charges of witchcraft. If a patient recovered, then they inflated
themselves with pride and took all the credit of the cure; but if the
patient died, then witchcraft was at work, a _ndoki_ was “eating” up the
patient, or by his evil spirit was throttling the spirit of the sick
one. Rich men had bought expensive charms, had sacrificed goats and
sheep to costly fetishes to keep them strong and alert, to protect their
owners from the evil influences of the _ndoki_, and yet they had died.

Such deaths did not shake their faith in charms and fetishes, but rather
stimulated them to more careful observance of all the rites and
ceremonies connected with them. They knew no better system than that in
which they had been nurtured.

One night when Bakula was sitting around the fire I heard that two men
many years ago had started a crusade against fetishes and charms. They
preached throughout the Lower Congo that if all fetishes and charms of
every kind were destroyed there would be no more disease and death. So
effective was their condemnation of witchcraft, charms, and fetishes
that whole towns and villages made bonfires of their images and charms,
and children were shaken over the fires to purge them from any charms
concealed about their person.

The deluded natives expected a golden day would now dawn upon them
wherein there would be no sighing, no tears, no weeping, for disease and
death would be banished from their huts; but, alas! sickness soon came
and death quickly followed to disillusion them of their bright hopes.

The only folk who profited by this crusade were the _ngangas_, as they
received large orders for charms and fetishes to replace those that had
been burned. But the preachers were sure of the soundness of their
panacea for the country’s woes, and they could only account for its
failure by charging some of the people with hiding their charms and
fetishes instead of destroying them.

Later still, two other men who were _ngangas_, calling themselves by
some high-sounding titles, started another crusade; this time not
against charms and fetishes, but against evil desires and murderous
thoughts harboured in the hearts of the people. They proclaimed that
every one should confess to them all the witchcraft, hatred, and bad
thoughts they had in their hearts against others, and those thus
confessing should receive a peanut and a sip of palm-wine, and thus
disease and death would pass away from their country.

[Illustration: CAT’S CRADLES.]

[Illustration: A PROTECTIVE FETISH.]

Large numbers flocked to them, paid their fees--five strings of beads
for an adult, and two for a child--confessed their hatred, witchcraft,
and evil thoughts, and received from the hands of the new cult of
“medicine men” the peanut and palm-wine, and yearningly hoped that
sickness had been banished from their district and death destroyed. But
again they were quickly undeceived, for disease continued rampant and
death entered hut after hut. The “medicine men” reaped a great harvest
of beads, swaggered in wealth, and excused the failure of their system
by saying “that the people had not confessed _all_ their witchcraft and
hatred, and consequently, not being cleansed from _all_, the old state
of things had continued, and people suffered and died as before.”

Thus the people had had their hopes again and again dashed to the
ground, and they had been flung back on their old “medicine men” and
their fetishes. It has always been a tenet of their religion that
sickness and death were and are caused by witchcraft, and the most hated
person in all the country is he (or she) who, by the ordeal, is proved
to practise witchcraft. Hold their views, and the tenderest heart will
hate and kill the witch as mercilessly as they did.

There is no doubt but that the _ngangas_ received bribes to render the
ordeal non-effective; that the big men of the town incited the ordinary
folk to bring charges of witchcraft against their enemies, or those whom
they wanted removed from their path; and the witch-doctors themselves,
by the aid of their assistants, fostered and turned suspicion against
those who desired to introduce a new and better state of things into the
country. Their position and gains depended on killing off all such
dangerous people. Hence the ordeal and the charge of witchcraft were
often simply acts of murder, according to the customs of the country if
you like, but nevertheless murder.

The whole of the morning following the death of Bakula’s mother was
spent in decorating the corpse for burial. Beads were twisted round the
toes, feet, legs, body, arms, hands, fingers and neck, thus enswathing
the whole of the deceased in a casing of glass beads. Fold after fold of
trade cloths of different colours and qualities were wound round and
round the body until it was nearly twice its original bulk. At sunset
the corpse was carried to the grave, just outside the town, and laid to
rest with the hum of town life on one side, and the weird, uncanny
noises of the eternal bush on the other; but the soul had gone to that
mysterious spirit town in the great forest where it would utilize all
the cloth and beads in which it had been wrapped.

All through the day women had wailed and chanted mournful dirges, men
had fired off guns amid much laughter and many jokes, and Bakula, with
tearful eyes, had talked in subdued tones to his slave friend.

He had often, in the days gone by, conversed with his mother about the
white man’s palaver concerning God and His great gift of Jesus Christ.
He had poured out his heart to her, had instructed her in all that he
had learned on the station, and had repeated to her portions of God’s
Word.

He now recalled the eagerness with which she had heard the words: “God
so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son”; and, “In My
Father’s house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you”; and
he was hopeful of meeting her, not in the mysterious forest town that
had so many terrors for them, and which was simply a repetition of their
earthly life and its sorrows, but in the Father’s house where all tears
would be wiped away from their eyes, all sin banished from their lives,
and all sorrow from their hearts. He grieved not as one without hope.

Not many days after the funeral the witch-finder arrived, dressed in his
fantastic garb, his body decorated with gaudy paints and pigments, and
his bells tinkling at every movement. A crowd quickly gathered and
formed itself into a long oval, up and down the centre of which he
danced. The whole town, with few exceptions, regarded Bakula as a witch,
and the prancing figure there in the middle knew it. Still, he must give
his employers something for their money, so through the whole long hours
of the afternoon he gyrated perspiringly, threw his arms and legs about
in the most approved fashion, put question after question and elicited
such answers as confirmed his opinion that it would be extremely popular
and safe to charge this ridiculer of witch-doctors, this scorner of
fetishes and charms, this believer in the new religion with the death of
his mother--the woman who had just died.

Bakula was present throughout the whole performance. Hour after hour he
stood calmly there. As a member of the family he was compelled to be
present; but he took no part in answering the crafty questions put by
the grotesque figure dancing before him.

Towards the latter part of the afternoon he noticed that the people were
withdrawing from him; they seemed to shun the spot where he stood, all
except his faithful slave friend. He trembled as he observed these signs
of popular resentment, for he fully recognized their meaning.

Towards sunset the witch-doctor increased his efforts to the admiration
of the spectators. He leaped in the air, gyrated on his heels, flung his
arms and legs about in amazing circles, crouched and jumped, undulated
his body to simulate a python, and in a whirlwind of shaking skins,
twirling arms and legs, and sounding bells he brought himself to a
sudden halt in front of Bakula, and with raised finger accused him of
bewitching his mother to death.

Poor Bakula! although he had fully expected this charge, he was
dumbfounded now he stood accused before all the people. He essayed to
speak, but no words issued from his parched, dry throat, and he would
have fallen if Tumbu had not supported him in his strong arms.

Why had they accused him of killing his mother by witchcraft? Accused
_him_ of _her_ death! It was ridiculous, cruel, wicked! Surely no Congo
mother had ever before been loved by a son as she had been loved! The
very teaching he had imbibed had taught him to honour, reverence and
love his parents. If he had lied, robbed, lived a loose life and treated
his mother with contemptuous indifference like other young men in the
town, he would not have stood there charged with killing his mother by
witchcraft.

The crowd surged around him. What ugly, sinister faces were pushed
jeeringly into his! Sticks were raised and knives drawn to strike down
the witch; but Satu pushed himself in front of the victim, and demanded
that he should not be killed until the ordeal test had been given him.

“He will escape in the night to the white man’s station,” they shouted.

“No, he won’t,” said Old Plaited-Beard, “for I will bind him strongly
and watch him through the night, if you will hand him over to me.”

This met with the instant approval of the crowd, and Bakula was handed
over to the guardianship of his superstitious and merciless enemy.

Old Plaited-Beard, with the help of a few friends, took the accused
youth to his hut, and with strong cords bound his hands, feet and legs.
No tenderness was displayed in the tying; that the cords cut into the
flesh was regarded by the tiers with utter unconcern.

To render escape doubly impossible the prisoner’s neck was securely
fastened in a forked stick.

All through the long night the men took it in turns to watch Bakula,
who, by reason of his strained position and tortured limbs, had no
proper sleep, but dozed fitfully in painful semi-consciousness. Now and
again he sang in a poor quavering voice the hymns he had learned on the
station and had taught his few boys in their little school; occasionally
he prayed for strength and comfort, and once he attempted to speak to
his captors about the great Saviour--God’s wonderful gift to the world.

It was not until they threatened to ram a lighted stick into his
mouth--and held one very near to his lips to emphasize their
threat--that he turned from them to sing: “Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let
me to Thy bosom fly.”

Early the next afternoon Bakula was released from his bonds, and led
away to the top of a neighbouring hill. The rude hut was quickly built,
and the victim placed in it with extended arms. The ordeal-giver ground
the pieces of bark into powder, and fed the young man with them. Before
he had taken many of the powders Bakula began to feel intoxicated by
their narcotic properties. He swayed to and fro like a drunken man, his
vision became blurred, foam came from his mouth, and at last he fell a
writhing heap on the ground. Sticks and knives immediately finished the
cruel, murderous deed, and the corpse, naked, battered and covered with
gaping wounds, was left a prey to wild beasts and ravenous birds.

Again the stars arose and looked with blinking, sorrowful gaze on that
tragic hill-top--the scene of many an ordeal murder, and as they looked
they saw a strange sight: coming across the hill was a lad carrying a
hoe. He carefully scanned every boulder, tuft of grass and shrub, and at
last his eyes fell on the body of the lifeless lad. With a cry he
bounded to its side and sank prostrate to the ground, and grovelled in
heart-stricken sorrow by the side of his murdered friend.

When his grief had somewhat spent itself Tumbu arose and began to dig a
grave for the body of his admired benefactor. It was a fearsome place,
strewn with bones--the remnants of many trials by ordeal; and weird
noises, trying to the stoutest heart, came on the night air from the
near forest. Tumbu started many a time during his self-imposed task, and
fear gripped his heart more than once; but he steadied himself by
driving his hoe deeply into the earth, and working hard to save the body
of his kind friend from the cruel, sharp teeth of savage beasts.

At last the grave was deep enough, and then Tumbu, spreading some cloth
he had brought for the purpose, laid the body of his friend upon it; but
before wrapping it around him he took the Brass Rod from Bakula’s neck,
intending to keep it as a memento of his slain friend.

Tenderly were the remains laid in the grave, and the earth covered all
that was left of my whilom companion and martyred owner.




                             Chapter XXIII
                          I Find many Changes

Mikula while digging the foundations for a brick house discovers me--The
    town is changed--There is daily worship--Observance of the
    sabbath--Sunday service--Collections for support of
    teachers--Christian funeral--Visit to the mission station--Teaching
    teachers--Martyrs for the cause.

[Fifteen years are supposed to have elapsed between the concealment and
the unearthing of the Brass Rod.

The preceding part of this narrative unfolds the prejudices,
superstitions and evil practices rife on the Congo thirty years ago,
while the following chapters indicate the progress that has been made in
christianizing the people and leading them to higher and better things.]


After burying Bakula on that sad night, Tumbu carried me back to his
hut; but being afraid to wear me lest he should be accused of robbing a
dead body, he secretly polished me, and, wrapping me in an old rag,
concealed me beneath the earth in a corner of his house, hoping no doubt
some day, when all fear of detection had passed away, to take me out and
wear me in memory of his friend.

How long I lay buried I know not; but my finder was a sturdily built,
pleasant-faced young man whose name I heard later was Mikula. When he
had rubbed me clean of all my accumulated dirt, and found that I was
good solid brass, he well polished my sides and wound me in graceful
rings round his wrist.

I discovered afterwards that my new owner was digging the foundations of
a brick house when he happened upon me. Mikula had been taught on the
mission station, and had learned there, among other things, the arts of
brickmaking and bricklaying, and now he had returned to his home he was
busy building a brick house into which he hoped to bring his future
wife. He had already made and burnt several thousands of bricks, and was
hurrying forward the building of the walls so as to roof in the house
before the rainy season commenced.

What a change had passed over the town! I scarcely recognized it for the
same place. Here and there were comfortable brick houses, a few plank
ones, and many others of wattle and daub nicely colour-washed, while the
grass huts were larger and very neatly made. And as Mikula walked
through the town that evening I noticed that many of the homes were
lighted either with candles or lamps, and families--father, mother and
children--were sitting around one common table partaking together of
their food; those families that could not afford artificial light sat
together round their fires.

Occasionally we came upon some who maintained the old state of
things--broken up families, the male and female members of which still
sat and ate their food apart from each other.

At six o’clock every morning a small bell rang out, calling the natives
to morning prayers before they started their daily employments. Mikula,
who was a deacon of the Church, had charge of the religious work in his
own town, and performed voluntarily the duties of a pastor of the Church
and teacher of the school.

About a hundred men, women and young people gathered every morning for
worship--a hymn was sung, a portion of the New Testament was read and
commented on, a short prayer was offered either by Mikula or one of the
Christians, and another hymn brought the simple service to a close.
After that the women went to their farms and the men to their various
occupations. Who can measure the influence such services exerted over
the lives of the folk who attended them? Their horizon was no longer
confined to the trivial affairs of their former mean lives, but extended
to the boundless reaches of heaven and God’s own eternity; their
thoughts no longer grovelled in the trough of lustful desires and evil
passions, but were lifted to higher, purer and more spiritual concerns;
and their aims were no longer wholly selfish--set on attaining many
women and much wealth,--but they gave their time, energy and money that
their heathen neighbours might enjoy the same blessings that had come
into their lives, and had transformed them, by a wondrous alchemy, from
base metal to beautiful gold.

On Sundays the Christians refrained from farm work, visiting the
markets, trading, and any other form of labour that would desecrate the
Lord’s day; and a large number of those who were not professing
Christians also observed the day; but there were still many who clung to
the old state of things, who farmed, toiled and traded on that day as
though they had never heard of a day of rest.

During the Sabbath afternoon the bell rang out, and more than three
hundred natives attended the service which was held in a large brick
building that had been raised and paid for by the native Christians
themselves. What a pride they seemed to take in their "House of God"!
The walls were colour-washed and decorated with pictures of the life of
Christ; the doors and windows, which were of native carpentry, were
nicely painted, and the roof was of corrugated iron sheets that they had
bought with their own hard-earned money. There stood their “House of
God” on the finest site, in the very heart of the town.

What a contrast to Bakula’s little grass school-chapel that had been so
ruthlessly destroyed by some of the very people who had laboured to
erect this new building! Yet the latter, and all it stood for, was the
outcome of the former.

That Sunday was a Communion day--the first sabbath of the month. Mikula,
as deacon-pastor, took the service. Native Christians living in the
surrounding villages had walked to this centre to take the Communion.
The meetings in their own villages had been postponed, and, headed by
their teachers, some of them had marched across hills and dales, forded
streams and waded swamps to be present at that service.

Many of them had walked from five to nine hours from the more distant
parts of their district. They were in earnest, and expecting a blessing
they did not return disappointed. The building was not large enough to
contain all who attended, so the overflow sat round the windows and
doors that they might share in the service.

How heartily they sang! What prayers they offered--not wholly for
themselves, but also for their neighbours that they too might be saved.
How attentively they listened to Mikula’s teaching, on “Whatsoever a man
soweth that shall he also reap.” They were an agricultural people, and
knew the truthfulness of the lessons their teacher enforced with
eloquent directness, and wealth of illustration taken from their own
daily work on the farms.

The first service over, those who were not in Church membership left to
make room for those who had come so far to take the Communion. Soon the
place was full again, and Mikula, assisted by the teachers, dispensed
the bread and the cup. Close upon two hundred that afternoon
commemorated the death of their Lord and Saviour.

During the former service the usual collection had been made, and at the
close of the Communion Service the teachers from the various towns
handed over to the deacons the amounts that had been received at the
gatherings during the previous month. Every Church member was expected
to give according to his or her ability for the support of the native
teachers who prosecuted the local missionary work. And the gifts from
the different towns and villages were recorded in the deacons’ books,
and the offerings of the Church members were written in the diaries
Sunday by Sunday by the teachers in charge.

Apparently, from what I heard, two things have been recognized from the
beginning by the white men who founded the work at the various centres:
(1) that Congo is too big a land for white men only to evangelize, hence
the need for an ever-increasing supply of native teachers and preachers;
and (2) that if you want a person to appreciate anything, let them pay
for it, for what costs nothing is very soon valued at about the same
price--nothing; hence every member of the native Church has been taught
to give freely and generously for the propagation of the gospel among
the villages. No native Christian is financially bettered by joining the
Church; but it costs him or her something every week to be a member.
These gifts are the expression of their appreciation of what Christ has
done for them.

I would that Bakula could have attended that Communion Service. He would
have felt well repaid for all his toil, anxieties, disappointments and
death. And who shall say that his spirit was not hovering over and
witnessing the wondrous sight? How I should have liked to have asked
about Old Plaited-Beard, Satu, Tumbu and many another, but the natives
were very reticent in speaking about their dead.

I recognized among the communicants some who had been taught by Bakula
in the old school hut. Of course they were grown into young men, and a
few of them were married and had children toddling about their knees.

Two or three weeks after the Communion described above, a message was
brought to Mikula that an old man, a member of the Church, had just
died, and would he go and bury him. Mikula fully recognized that this
was one of his duties as a deacon of the Church, and readily promised to
conduct the service on the afternoon of the next day.

On arriving in the village of the deceased man, Mikula went straight to
the house of mourning, and spoke a few kindly, comforting words to the
widow who was weeping silently by the corpse of her lost one. A few
young men picked up the body and carried it reverently to the little
chapel.

It was an unpretentious building of wattle and daub, colour-washed and
clean--a house of comfort and strength, a place of worship to the few
souls in that village who professed the Christian faith. In front of the
small platform the body was laid, and over it were spread some
palm-fronds--symbols of joy and victory.

Mikula conducted a simple service, and spoke with much tenderness and
force to the heathen present, on “Father, forgive them; they know not
what they do.” They listened attentively, and more than one man dated
his conversion to that address. At the grave a hymn of triumph was sung,
and then the poor wasted body was laid to rest with these beautiful
words as its shroud: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where
is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who
giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

No drunken orgies, no dissipated feasts, no sensual dances accompanied
this funeral; neither was it followed by any smelling out of witches,
nor charges of witchcraft, nor giving of the ordeal, nor the leaving on
some neighbouring hill-top the stabbed body of a murdered man. Death was
now dressed in another garb, wore a different aspect, for it was now
regarded not as the result of malignant witchcraft, but the call of the
Father to His child to occupy one of the places in the many mansions.
Consequently there were no howls of rage, no wails of despair, no
sinister threats of vengeance over the body of the deceased, but the
palm-fronds, the hymns, the promise of a sure and certain resurrection,
and the assurance that the absent one was present with the Lord--the
dead had received eternal life.

Mikula hurried forward the completion of his house, as he desired to
visit the station for the week of special teaching periodically arranged
for teachers, deacons and Christian workers. Soon after we started on
the road we were joined at different points by teachers and deacons
whose faces, like my owner’s, were turned towards their Jerusalem--the
Mission Station.

We arrived on Saturday afternoon, and were cordially welcomed by the
white men, not one of whom I recognized as being on the station when
Bakula lived there. I heard that some of them had died and were buried
on the hillside overlooking a quiet peaceful valley, and others broken
by health, had been compelled to leave the country; but whether dead or
sick, their work was being prosecuted with zeal by those who had taken
their places.

The foundations so well and truly laid were now receiving the
superstructure, the cornerstone of which was Christ. Other men had
laboured, and these had entered into their labours; would they not all
rejoice together when the topstone was placed amid the shouts of men and
angels?

The lessons began in earnest on Monday morning, and for the next five
days the teachers and others present received five hours a day of
special instruction in such subjects as would help them in their work as
teachers and leaders of the people--sermon-making, pastoral theology,
Church history, hygiene, astronomy, geography, and a thorough study of
one of the Gospels. Each attendant had his exercise-book, and
opportunities were given for taking copious notes. These afterwards
became the bases of many of the addresses they delivered to their people
in the numerous little chapels dotted about the districts.

There were early morning prayer-meetings, the usual morning services,
and public meetings on two or three evenings during the week. Between
the lectures the teachers discussed with the white man who had charge of
their particular district the peculiar difficulties of their spheres of
labour, and sought counsel and guidance on knotty biblical, doctrinal,
or other questions.

It was a busy time for all, white and native teachers alike; but it was
of untold value to the latter, and undoubtedly exerted a great and
beneficial influence on their life and labours. On the Sunday following
the week of lectures, the Communion was taken; and the teachers returned
strengthened, mentally and spiritually, to their work.

[Illustration: 1. TEACHERS WORKING UNDER THE WATHEN CHURCH.]

[Illustration: 2. DEACONS OF THE WATHEN CHURCH.]

On Monday morning my owner, Mikula, bought a supply of various simple
medicines to take back to his town, and he also asked for and received
some slates, pencils, and reading-books to meet the demands of his
numerous scholars. By noon he and the others had said “Good-bye” to
their friends, white and black, and were on the road again with their
faces turned homewards. Mikula moved with a buoyant step, for his heart
was light and happy. His work as a deacon, teacher and preacher had
received the commendation of his white man; and he was returning home to
be married--to take to his house, which had cost him so much time,
thought and labour, the girl of his choice, one who had been taught on
the station, was a member of the Church, and sympathized with him in all
his work.

During the evening, while we were sitting round the fire, the
conversation turned on the days when much superstitious opposition and
prejudice existed against the Christian religion, and witch-doctors and
their followers exerted their combined forces to crush it. Mikula told
of one zealous teacher he knew who travelled the country proclaiming
God’s message of salvation, who was seen to enter a town, but was never
known to leave it. False and misleading reports were spread concerning
him; but after a long period the truth came to light: the evangelist
went into the said town to preach, the people seized him, hurried him
down the long slope to the river, fastened a great stone to his neck,
and, hurling him from the rocks, drowned him in the rushing waters.

“A few months ago,” said one of the teachers sitting round the fire,
“the people in a town I visited caught me and tied me with my arms
extended on a cross in mockery of my Master; then they placed me for
hours out in the broiling sun, so that my mouth and throat became
parched and dry like the bottom of a saucepan. As the sun went down they
set me free, and we have a teacher and some Christians now in that town,
for they were astonished to hear me praying for them instead of abusing
them.”

“Have you heard what happened some months ago in the district next to
ours?” asked another. “An evangelist went into a town, and the natives
took him and stretched him on a cross in imitation of our Saviour, and
then, spearing him, they cut off his head and flung his body into the
bush. Christ suffered much for our salvation, and it is to be expected
that we shall have to suffer a little for Him.”

As they sat there round the fire two or three engaged in prayer, and
singing softly their evening hymn--“Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to
Thy bosom fly,” they rolled themselves in their blankets, and there in
the open around their fires they stretched themselves in sleep.




                              Chapter XXIV
                   A Marriage and a Harvest Festival

A Christian wedding--Grateful offerings--Christianity a great boon to
    the women--Reunion--Various meetings--Lady missionaries conduct
    services--Auction sale of the gifts--Changed lives--Mikula instructs
    a stranger in the way of salvation--Rules for candidates and for
    Church fellowship.


A few days after Mikula’s return he was married to the young woman for
whom he had built the brick house. In honour of the occasion the church
was prettily decorated with flowers, long streamers of vine-like
branches and palm-fronds. A bower was made by arching some palm-fronds,
and beneath this were placed two chairs, tied together, symbolical of
the future state of those who were to sit upon them.

The town was all agog with the excitement of the event, every seat and
standing place was occupied, and the doors and windows were crowded with
black but smiling faces.

This was the first time that a deacon-teacher had been married in their
town, and as the bride-groom was much honoured by Christians and heathen
alike for his happy, kindly, obliging disposition and straightforward,
consistent life among them, they had come in large numbers to his
wedding.

The bride was arrayed in a clean muslin dress of a bright but pretty
pattern--the gift of her white lady teacher as a recognition of her
helpful work among the girls during her stay upon the station. The
bridegroom was dressed in a nice blue loin cloth and white jacket, the
latter being the work of one of his neighbours who was expert with the
needle.

A fellow deacon had come from a neighbouring town to perform the
ceremony. A marriage hymn was sung and was followed by two teachers
asking for God’s blessing on those about to be married; then the deacon
read a translation of the marriage service, during which the bride and
bridegroom took each other’s hand and solemnly pledged themselves to one
another until death. Another hymn and prayer, and the benediction
concluded the simple but impressive service.

No sooner did the newly wedded pair emerge from the church than they
were greeted with cheers, shouts and a salvo of guns. Their progress
home took the form of a triumphal procession, all the folk vying with
each other in their expressions of pleasure, their exclamations of
goodwill, and the guns banged with such tremendous reports of jubilation
that it was a wonder they did not burst their sides.

Mikula invited his friends to a great feast of pig and cassava-flour
puddings, washed down with copious draughts of water, tea and coffee.
There was no wine, no drunkenness, and no debauchery; but a happy
merry-making that left no bad “after palavers,” and no unpleasant
headaches.

About three or four months after the marriage the native Christians in
Mikula’s town and district were very busy in preparing their harvest
thanksgiving offerings. Many of the women had hoed extra patches of
peanuts and cassava gardens, the crops from which, when matured, they
sold on the markets, and the proceeds were given to Mikula for the
coming festival. Mats, baskets and saucepans were made and sold for the
same purpose. The men also put by a certain portion of their “trade,”
and devoted the result to the same object. Others laid aside pieces of
cloth, hats, umbrellas and various other articles to take with them as
their gifts.

Mikula carefully noted all the moneys he received, and everybody
concerned was looking forward with eager interest to the arrival of the
letter that would inform them of the date of the coming religious fête.

At last the messenger arrived, the day was proclaimed, and those members
of the Church and their friends (for everybody--Christian and
non-Christian--was welcome to this festival) prepared their baskets of
food, their offerings, their children and their clothes for the great
event. As they travelled up to the station they met other contingents
coming from various districts, near and far. They chatted about the
news, compared their gifts, and the teachers and deacons consulted and
talked over the progress of “God’s palaver” at the different centres of
work.

Oh! wonder of wonders; the men helped the women in carrying the babies
and the loads of food, etc. A kindly service they never rendered in the
old days, for then the men swaggered along unencumbered, left their
women to trudge after them as best they could with all the impedimenta
on their backs, heads and in their arms--poor beasts of burden.

This Christian religion had certainly wrought a great change for the
better in the condition of the women. Instead of being treated with
contempt as inferiors, they were respected as equals; instead of
receiving the leavings of the men, they now sat at the same table to eat
with them; instead of being regarded as mere chattels to be borrowed and
loaned, ill-treated, cursed and killed, they were cherished as wives;
and instead of being mere children-bearing, farm-making, food-cooking
animals, they were now the companions of their husbands and the sharers
of their sorrows and joys.

It was early on Saturday afternoon when we arrived on the station. There
across the entrance to the ground was a red banner with these letters in
white on it: “TUKAIYISI” (= Welcome); and that was not the only welcome
our party received. The white men and their wives greeted us very
heartily, and showed us houses, and loaned us mats for our use during
our stay. The women quickly gathered about their lady teachers, and
questions, kindly inquiries, and answers were the order of the day. My
owner, Mikula, recognized, greeted and conversed with many of the young
men who were lads at school with him in the old days.

What a happy reunion! How longingly anticipated, and how fully
appreciated! Faces were missed there that were now present in the cool
glades that border the River of Life; and some few were absent, because,
through heinous sin, they had been cut off from the Church, and were
ashamed to show themselves at this Christian festival of gladness and
thanksgiving.

One white man had decorated the church with palm-fronds, plantain-trees,
festoons of creepers, flowers and flags. The station had been thoroughly
swept, the flags streamed from the apex of the church to the ground.
Another white man was looking after the comfort of the numerous
visitors, allotting to them their sleeping-places, mats, and utensils
for fetching water and cooking food. A third was receiving the numerous
gifts, noting the names of the donors and districts, and arranging the
offerings in front and around the platform.

What a miscellaneous assortment of gifts was there! Heaps of pumpkin
seeds and peanuts; numerous bunches of plantains and bananas; a pile of
oranges; pieces of cloth of various colours and qualities; umbrellas,
eggs, glasses, fowls, rabbits, parcels of native tobacco, mats--plain
and ornamented, kwanga loaves of native bread, pumpkins, calabashes,
bundles of native greens, tomatoes, garden eggs, boxes of gun-caps, tins
of gunpowder, and bottles of kerosene. Those who could not give garden
produce or pieces of cloth presented mugs, plates, wash-hand basins,
saucepans of native make, and European enamel-ware; those who had come
too far to carry their offerings in kind, had sold them on the local
markets and brought the results of such sales in francs and brass rods.
Native tailors, who had made jackets, dresses and cloths ready for
wearing, presented them as their share.

[Illustration: A CHRISTIAN WEDDING.]

[Illustration:

  _Photo_]   CHURCH COLLECTION AT WATHEN.   [_Rev. J. H. Weeks_
  The Collection consists of:--Tin of gunpowder, calabash of gunpowder,
    bottle of
  kerosene, eggs, matches, gun caps, a plate, umbrella, mat,
  cloth, francs, brass rods--in all worth about £3.
]

Nothing came amiss, no gift was too small and no article too mean to
find its place among those free-will expressions of a people’s gratitude
to God--for the poor gave to the point of self-sacrifice, and the
comparatively rich gave in proportion to their wealth.

All through Saturday and Sunday every band of new arrivals gave in their
offerings. Some had carried their heavy gifts--weighing from thirty to
forty pounds--over hills, streams and swamps for three and four hours,
and came up smilingly to unload themselves; and with shy, apologetic
words they expressed themselves as sorry that the loads were not
heavier, but that was all they had to bring.

Sunday with its various services passed all too quickly for those who
had come such long distances to attend them. The early morning
prayer-meeting was well supported. A native deacon conducted it, and
very earnest were the prayers for a blessing on the missionary work that
was so zealously maintained in all the districts, nor were other
stations and missions forgotten before the throne of grace.

It was pathetic to hear their pleadings on behalf of relatives and
friends still in the darkness of heathenism; and surely the heart of God
has been very deeply moved by such prayers, for not a year passes
without scores of conversions and additions to the Church.

The afternoon service was crowded, and although the building seated over
seven hundred every place was occupied and the doors and windows were
filled with eager listeners as a slim man of medium height, who had
laboured among them for nearly fifteen years, preached freely and
fluently on their privileges and duties as Christian men and women. In
the evening a deacon-preacher took the service, and very eloquently did
he enforce the lessons given in the afternoon that as redeemed men and
women, ransomed by the precious blood of Christ, heirs of God’s eternal
glory, it should be their gladsome duty to pass on the blessings they
had received to those who were still ignorant of Christ’s salvation.

I ought not to forget the morning service that was conducted by a white
lady--the wife of one of the missionaries, a woman of large experience
in the work, of wide sympathies, and, from what I could hear among the
natives, a woman much beloved by them all for her unstinted labours.

“Why does a white woman take a service every Sunday?” I once heard asked
by a native in whose mental bank there were more sneers than kindly
thoughts.

“Well,” replied a teacher who was sitting by, “the white men practise
what they preach. They tell us to respect and reverence our wives, so
they respect and reverence theirs; they teach us to treat our wives as
equals, so they treat theirs as equals, hence they have arranged for a
white woman to take one of the two principal services every Sunday. We
have therefore always an example of what they inculcate that when God
made woman He took a portion, not from the head of man to show that she
should be over man, nor from the feet of man to show that she should be
under man; but from the middle to teach that she should be equal to
man--from near the heart to show that she should have his affection, and
from under his arm to show she should have his protection. My white man
told me that that was written by one of their famous teachers long ago.
They would have that to be the keynote of our treatment of women as it
is of theirs.”

Immediately after the service on Monday morning one of the white men
mounted a table and began to sell the various gifts by auction to the
highest bidders. The natives, both males and females, entered most
heartily into the contest. The auctioneer knew the value of the
different articles and was careful to let nothing go under price.

The bids were in brass rods, and the rivalry for possession of the
different articles was very keen. Jokes were cracked, repartees were
exchanged, innocent pleasantries were indulged in, and amid much
laughter one lot after another was knocked down to the successful
bidders. It was a vivacious scene composed of both sexes of all ages,
dressed in variegated colours, topped by smiling, black faces, and
white, gleaming teeth.

The white men took it in turns to act as auctioneers, and at the close
of the sale it was found that the total sum received for the local
missionary work, _i. e._ for the support of native teachers, amounted to
82,095 brass rods (= £34 3_s._ 6_d._). Everybody was pleased, and that
night they sung most heartily, “Praise God, from whom all blessings
flow.” And thus ended the _matondo_, or harvest thanksgiving festival.

Soon after the final service the natives were bidding each other
“good-bye,” and on the road again, with their faces turned homeward. How
safe the roads are compared with the bad, old days! Then natives went
armed with guns and other weapons of defence, now they travel with
nothing but their hymn-books and New Testaments for days without fear of
molestation; woe then to the individual who left his party, for he (or
she) was pounced upon by thievish rascals, and was never heard of again;
then men and women, boys and girls were captured on the slightest
pretext, and even for penny and two-penny debts, and were sold to end
their days in distant, cruel and unremitting toil as slaves; now boys
and girls take long journeys in unmolested safety. The Gospel has taught
the people that God cares for them, hence they are caring more for each
other; that He loves them, and thus they are coming to love one another.

How selfish they used to be! How they grabbed at everything that came in
their way, and held fast to every article they could put their fingers
upon! How generously they now gave out of their comparative poverty,
that the message of God that had transformed their lives, given them
peace now, and hope for the great hereafter, might be proclaimed to
others, that they also might share the same peace and possess the same
buoyant, eternal hope. Then their _neighbours_ were their own kith and
kin only--members of their own families, and they did not hesitate to
cheat, oppress, enslave or kill any one outside the family to benefit
themselves; now they have discovered that their _neighbours_ are the
members of all families, clans and tribes under the sun, and with all
the energy of their renewed natures they are trying to put into daily
practice the golden rule: Do unto others as you would that they should
do unto you. Then they stole, lied, swindled and broke every law of man
and God that they might die wealthy and have a grand funeral that should
be the talk of the countryside; now they walk many a weary mile, cross
many a difficult stream, wade many a nasty swamp, to preach the news of
God’s great salvation, and give generously of their substance to support
teachers. How marvellous are the workings of God’s grace in the hearts
of whilom savages!

Mikula, my owner, and his party arrived home all the stronger in their
Christian faith for the service they had attended; and more determined,
by consecrated lives, by kindly actions, and by trying to live the life
of Jesus Christ in word and daily deed, to win their heathen neighbours
to the better life. At the station they had heard that there were more
than fifteen hundred members belonging to their beloved Wathen Church.
Fifteen hundred! a large number indeed! They would have sung the
Hallelujah Chorus if they had known it. Yet how few fifteen hundred
seemed among the thousands upon thousands in these large districts still
outside the Church.

There was, however, a growing Christian sentiment, and a better-informed
conscience manifesting themselves through the whole district, even among
the heathen; and these are resulting in a keener perception of right and
wrong. These are assets that should be placed to the credit of the
Church, and promise well for its numerical and spiritual prosperity in
the near future.

Had there been any laxity in receiving candidates into the Church the
numbers could have easily been quadrupled; but the greatest care was
exercised, and the strictest investigations made over every application
for Church membership. It was quite possible to impose upon the white
teachers, who could not possibly live in a hundred villages and towns at
once; but the candidate could not deceive his Christian neighbours who
are jealous of the honour of the Church, and who recognize that a pure
Church of true men and women means a strong and an aggressive Church;
whereas a membership of hypocrites would bring upon them the
contemptuous scorn of their heathen neighbours, and would result in a
weak, emasculated, stagnant Church worthy only of ridicule and
extinction.

The natives live open lives in their villages, making their fires in the
streets, cooking their food and eating it in the open, talking, working
and living such unsecluded lives that in a village everybody knows
everything about everybody else and a little more besides--there is no
hiding any fact of life from one another, hence when the name of a
candidate for Church fellowship is submitted there are sure to be
present some who know the life the candidate is living in his or her
town.

One evening, when my owner, Mikula, and his wife were sitting at their
fire, a stranger from a distant village greeted them, and told the
deacon that he had come to converse with him about “God’s palaver.”
Continuing, he said: “I have heard the evangelists preach in the
different villages I have been visiting, about the Saviour Jesus Christ;
and I have listened to the white men more than once, and my heart is
standing up with fear, because I have sinned greatly against God and
broken all His commandments. When I think of my many sins and that God
will surely punish me for them, I cannot sleep at night. Tell me more
about Jesus, the Saviour.” And a look of intense longing came into the
eyes of the inquirer.

Mikula unfolded to him clearly and fully God’s way of salvation. He read
passage after passage from the New Testament to enforce every statement
he made; and Mikula’s wife aided him by holding a candle in one hand and
shading it with the other that the light might fall on the sacred page,
and occasionally she recalled to her husband’s mind such scriptures as
would help their visitor.

Long into the night they sat conversing, fire after fire along the
street died down, and they had heard the good-night greetings of “sleep
well” as their neighbours retired to rest; but they had again and again
replenished their own fire, and had continued their earnest talk on the
greatest of all themes--the way of salvation to a sin-stricken soul. At
last their visitor said: “I see it--Christ died for me, the just for the
unjust, the good one for the bad one, the Son of God in place of me--the
sinner.” And there around the fire the three bowed their heads while
Mikula lifted up his heart in prayer and praise.

The next evening the visitor again took his seat at Mikula’s fire, and
after the usual greetings had been exchanged, said: “I want to join with
you Christians and become a member of the Church. Can I join at once?”

“No,” replied Mikula, “you cannot. You must go back to your village, and
live a Christian life there for many months, and prove by your words and
actions that you are truly sorry for your former bad life, and are now a
follower of Jesus Christ. You must be a total abstainer, and by this you
will avoid the many temptations to drunkenness. If you like you can now
enroll yourself as a member of the Blue Cross Temperance Society.”

“Very well, I will do so now,” assented the visitor. “It will be hard to
give up palm-wine, gin and other drinks, especially at funerals,
marriages and on the markets.”

“Yes, I know it will,” replied Mikula, as he went for the pledge book;
“but there are more than two thousand members of this Temperance
Society, and God will help you to live a sober life.” The visitor put
his mark against his name in the pledge book, and I heard that his name
was Tutula.

“The next thing that you must renounce is dancing,” continued my owner.
"You know our dances lead to adultery, and from that to rows, fights and
murder. Therefore it is a rule of the Church that its members should not
take part in any of the country dances.

“Then again, you must not call in witch-doctors, nor may you employ them
for any purpose whatever. Witchcraft and Christianity cannot mix
together any more than you can mix palm-oil and water. And you must
throw away or destroy all your fetishes and charms--a Christian man
should trust in God, and not in the paltry, stupid messes prepared by
witch-doctors.”

“Yes,” said Tutula, “I can understand that the temptations to a man or
woman engaging in our country dances is very great; and to practise
witchcraft and use fetishes and charms would dishonour God. When I
return home I will destroy my fetishes.” And as he spoke he took from
his neck and wrists some charms and handed them over to his new friend
and teacher, who dropped them into the fire that was blazing between
them.

“How many wives have you?” asked Mikula.

“I have seven,” replied Tutula, “two of them are old, three of them are
young women, and two of them mere girls.”

“Perhaps you have heard,” said Mikula, “that the members of the Church
have given up the practice of marrying many wives, and those who are
married have been wedded to one wife only by holy matrimony. This is the
law of God.” And he opened his New Testament and read the various places
where this law is clearly stated.

“Yes, I know that is the practice of your Christians,” replied Tutula,
"and it will cost me a great amount of money to follow it, for, being a
man of importance in my district, I have had the pick of the females,
and have given large sums in ‘marriage money’ for the women I have
borrowed.[67] Cannot I retain three or four of them?"

Footnote 67:

  See note 54, p. 358.

“No,” answered Mikula, “we deacons and Church members have studied this
point very carefully, and the words of Christ are very strong and
definite on the subject. Is it not better to go to heaven having only
one wife, than to be cast into hell with many women?

“There is one other matter,” continued Mikula, “and I have done: As a
Christian man who has received pardon for your many sins and a hope of
eternal life through Jesus Christ, you should pass these blessings on to
others by giving freely according to your means, and regularly, for the
support of native teachers to proclaim the love of God in Christ Jesus.
I am a teacher, but I do my work as such without any pay, because I am
living in my own town; but there are teachers who are working in towns
and among peoples not their own, and they must be supported, and what
they receive is very little.”

“I thank God in Jesus Christ for all that He has done for me!” fervently
exclaimed Tutula. “And listen! if you will find a good teacher I will
give him a house to live in, and pay half the cost of his support, for I
want the people in my village and neighbourhood to know of God’s love
and pardon.”

In due time a teacher was selected and sent to Tutula’s villages, and he
taught Tutula, among others, to read God’s word for himself. Some months
afterwards I was present with Mikula when Tutula and many of his
neighbours were baptized and received into the Church; counting wine,
women, witchcraft palavers, and native dances as mere dross that they
might win Christ and be found in union with Him.




                              Chapter XXV
                    Mikula at the Christmas Festival

Months glide quickly by while working hard--Deacon’s
    meeting--Church-meeting--The kind of candidates who were
    rejected--Baptismal service--The great meeting of the
    Church--Election of deacons--The balance sheet--A deficit--Native
    Christians wipe out the debt--Local missionary meeting--The great
    communion service.


How quickly the months glided by! Mikula, my owner, was a busy man of
affairs. As deacon and teacher he voluntarily gave many days every month
to his arduous duties--visiting lukewarm members and absentees from
communion, investigating charges brought against such as were accused of
breaking the Church’s rules, examining and instructing candidates for
Church fellowship, receiving the contributions from Church members,
paying the teachers of his district their monthly allowances, performing
the rites of burial and of marriage, preaching in his own town and
frequently visiting other towns and villages to proclaim the Gospel of
Jesus Christ.

Besides all these labours for the Church, he helped his wife by doing
the roughest work on the farm, visited many of the markets for purposes
of trade, for this was his principal means of subsistence--the means by
which he met his various obligations as a man, a husband, and a Church
member.

If he had devoted the whole of his time to trading he would have been a
rich man. He was ’cute, smart, and energetic enough; but he preferred
laying up treasure in heaven where neither white ants, nor rats, nor
mildew could depreciate the value of his wealth.

It was thus the months passed all too quickly, and brought us to the
great Church Festival held at Christmas-time, and the three principal
events of this gathering were the Church-meetings, the baptisms, and the
communion service.

Messengers and letters had been sent to all the deacons and teachers
spread over the three thousand square miles that comprised the parish of
the Wathen missionaries. These letters had informed the officials and
Church members of the date upon which they were to assemble, and urging
them to come in large numbers.

During all the afternoon and evening of the appointed Saturday, groups
of men and women were continually arriving on the station, and the
housing accommodation was taxed to its utmost capacity. The programme
for the meeting had been arranged about a month before, and every male
and female missionary had had their parts apportioned to them; but
unhappily just on the very eve of the meetings two of the white men went
down with very serious fevers, and the depleted little band of white
folk had to work the harder to make up for those unfortunately laid
aside.

At four o’clock on the Saturday afternoon the deacons were assembled,
and the business to be laid before the coming Church meeting was
thoroughly examined, such as cases of discipline, fitness of applicants
for Church membership, the work, pay, and appointments of teachers to
new spheres, or their removal from one place to another, and the many
other points that demanded attention and investigation.

Soon after seven o’clock the bell rang out calling all those concerned
to the Church meeting. About five hundred male and female members
gathered. A hymn was sung, a prayer offered, a portion of Scripture was
read, the minutes of the previous month were read and confirmed, and
then the business of the meeting began--of course, everything was
conducted in the vernacular, consequently everybody present could enter
fully into the matters laid before them. After various items of business
had been voted upon, the claims of candidates for Church membership were
scrutinized and voted upon by those present.

While they were considering Mr. A.’s desire to join the Church, a member
arose and stated that the applicant had a very bad temper, became
enraged at the smallest annoyance, and frequently for no reason at all;
and the speaker thought that the candidate should by properly and
continually controlling his irritable nature get a better temper before
he was received into the Church. The other members thought the same, and
voted that Mr. A. should wait for a few months and be informed of the
reason.

A little later the case of Mr. B. was under consideration, when a native
of his village arose and said that the candidate was a very lazy man,
lounging about the village all day, living on his wife; and he thought
that such a person was undesirable as a Church member. Let him do some
work and be honestly industrious for a year and then apply again. The
vote was taken, and Mr. B. was counted as unworthy of Church membership
until he had changed his lazy habits.

Later still in the evening the name of Mr. D. was mentioned as desirous
of joining the Church, when a neighbour of his jumped to his feet
saying: “Mr. D. is in debt to many people in his village and to others
in the surrounding villages. Now we think that a member of this Church
should not be in debt to any one; let him pay all his debts first and
then apply for membership.” Hence Mr. D. was informed afterwards that he
must go and pay his debts and apply later.

Others were rejected through lack of knowledge of the fundamentals of
the Christian religion; others for using fetishes and charms, thus
showing they were not altogether free of their heathen superstitions;
and others because their lives were not consistent with their Christian
profession. But after all this winnowing there were more than twenty who
were recognized as worthy of joining the Church.

The following day, Sunday, commenced with an early morning prayer and
praise meeting; then at the nine o’clock service the missionary preached
a suitable sermon to the accepted candidates on some of the passages in
Revelation, where the word “overcome” occurs; and at the close the
candidates for baptism arose one by one, and in simple language, and,
often with much nervousness, bore his or her testimony to the pardoning
love of God in Christ Jesus that had called them out of the great
darkness into His marvellous light. And then we adjourned to the place
where the baptismal rite was to be administered.

The place was about a mile from the station, and the baptistery was
formed by the natural widening of the stream into a pool that answered
the purpose as though it had been designed especially. The stream came
from an open valley, and, filling the pool, passed beneath the cool
shelter of some trees that threw a shade over a part of the shore, that
by a steepish slope led down to the water. This incline was covered with
people in their varied coloured dresses and cloths, tier above tier,
that were desirous of witnessing the baptisms. Many lads and young men
had waded across the water, and had seated themselves on the edge of the
farther bank, from which point of advantage they gained an uninterrupted
view of all that took place. Around the nearer side of the pool,
occupying positions right on the very edge of the water, were those who
were to undergo the rite of baptism--the observed of all observers,
nervously conscious of all eyes being fixed upon them.

A baptismal hymn was very heartily sung, two deacons offered prayer, and
then one by one, the women first, and then the men, the candidates
entered the pool and were baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and
Holy Spirit--buried with Him in the waters, a symbol that the old,
heathen life was finished, and raised again--a sign that henceforth they
were to lead new lives of faith, purity and love in Jesus Christ.

Soon after ten o’clock on Monday morning the bell sounded forth its
clamorous call to the great Church meeting. The large building was soon
filled with more than six hundred Church members--male and female, who
had gathered to elect their deacons for the ensuing year, to hear of the
progress of Christ’s kingdom in their large parish, and to have laid
before them a financial statement concerning the income and expenditure
of the closing year.

[Illustration: A NATIVE MARKET.]

[Illustration:

  _Photo_]   BAPTISMAL SERVICE, CHRISTMAS, 1905.   [_J. R. M. Stephens._
]

All deacons, no matter in what month they were elected, relinquished
office automatically at the end of the year, therefore one member of the
Church proposed, and another seconded a resolution of thanks to the
deacons for their work during the past year. This was carried
unanimously with much clapping of hands--a purely native mode of
expressing thanks whether performed by an individual or a crowd. Then
two others proposed and seconded a request that the retiring deacons be
asked to take office again for the coming year, with two exceptions. One
deacon during the year had broken a rule of the Church, and as it was
essential for the welfare of the Church that their deacons should be
blameless in life and character, he was not re-elected. Another deacon
had exhibited much incapacity and such an utter lack of zeal in the
discharge of his important duties, that he was asked to stand on one
side to make room for a better man. The rest were re-elected with
acclamation. Their spokesman replied in a few suitable words, and begged
them to remember their deacons always in prayer that they might perform
their difficult duties worthily of the Master they all desired to serve.

It was felt in consequence of the work extending so rapidly that the
number of deacons should be increased to twenty-five to adequately cope
with the work. Men, therefore, of strong character, of long, faithful
service, and good Christian lives were chosen and voted to the office to
make up the desired number.

Then the missionary who had charge of the Church books wrote on a
black-board the number of members in fellowship at the beginning of the
year, the number of those who had been expelled for inconsistency, the
number who had passed to the eternal home during the twelve months, the
large number that had been baptized on profession of their faith in
Christ, and it was shown that those who were enjoying all the privileges
of Church membership made a grand total of 1674. Here and there over the
building could be heard ejaculations of “Tutondele Mfumu Nzambi!” (“We
thank Thee, Lord God!”)

The white man then put another black-board in position, and wrote on it
all the offerings from the various districts, the amount of the July
Harvest Thanksgiving, and sundry other items to the credit of the Church
accounts--it reached some hundreds of thousands of brass rods. On
another black-board he wrote down the cost of the teachers in the
different districts, and when these were added up there was a large
deficit. What were they to do--leave the Church in debt, or withdraw
some of the teachers? No, they must wipe that debt off!

Another black-board was quickly in position to receive their offerings
for clearing away the deficit. A white teacher present said: “I will
give two thousand rods towards the debt.” But a native deacon arose to
his feet and said: “White man, we thank you for your kind offer to help
us; but this is our work for Jesus Christ, and we intend to do it by
paying that debt ourselves. Christ has done so much for us, that we must
do this little bit of work for Him.”

During the next hour the missionaries were very busy writing down gifts
and promises; and gradually the debt shrank until at last it
disappeared. They had contributed over £180 to meet the entire expenses
of their local missionary work. It was a large sum for poor people; but
it was an expression of their gratitude to God for all the benefits they
had received through the preaching of the Gospel. If it had been
possible to value all the voluntary work done by deacons and Church
members, the above amount would have been more than doubled.

That night a missionary meeting was held. The building was full; bright
and inspiring hymns were sung; and one teacher after another told of the
difficulties and triumphs of the Gospel in his part of the district.
Then two of the white men spoke of the grand results that had attended
the efforts of other missionaries at the various stations on the Upper
and Lower Congo. They summed up by saying: that thirty years ago there
was not a single language that had been reduced to writing, now eight
had been mastered, and into them more or less of God’s Word had been
translated; thirty years ago and there was not a single person on the
Congo who knew how to read or write, now there were thousands of men and
women, boys and girls who were reading God’s Word in their own
languages; thirty years ago there was not a single native teacher on the
Congo, now there were nearly five hundred--two-thirds of whom were
entirely supported by the free-will offerings of the native Christians,
and the other third doing voluntary work in their own towns and
villages; thirty years ago not a solitary brass rod was given to God’s
work--but hundreds of thousands of them were spent on witch-doctors,
fetishes and charms, now over £400 a year are given by native Christians
that others might hear the glad news of Christ’s redemption; thirty
years ago there was not a single Christian throughout the whole length
and breadth of Congoland, now in fellowship with the B. M. S. Churches
alone there are nearly 3500 Church members, and God Himself alone knows
the great number that has already passed from the Church militant on
earth, through faith in Christ, to the Church triumphant in heaven that
is gathering around the great white throne of the Lamb. These are 3500
fulfilments of God’s promises; 3500 encouragements to continue the work
with zeal and aggressiveness; 3500 proofs of the power of the Gospel to
change the hearts, and purify the lives of men and women.

It was about eleven o’clock next morning when that bell called the
Christians and their friends to the last great meeting of the festival.
The building in which the service was held was long, wide and rather
squatty, with no claim to beauty or dignity, and no pretensions to
architectural elegance; and although in the eyes of men it might
honestly be styled ugly, yet in the eyes of angels it must be very
beautiful--for it is the birthplace of many a soul.

It was all too small that day to hold the crowd that pressed into it.
The seats soon filled, and the mats that had been spread on every
available space quickly received more than their full quota of people,
and the doors and windows rapidly filled with folk who listened as
eagerly as those who were inside the building. How heartily they all
entered into the simple service!

The preacher knew their difficulties, their temptations and their
weaknesses; he knew the pit of heathenism from which they had been
digged; and he knew that they were going back to their towns, villages
and homes to live among superstitious heathen neighbours, so he preached
to them with the power born of full and deep conviction from 2 Tim. i.
12; and they by and by returned home strengthened to continue the fight
knowing that God was with them, and, therefore, they were on the winning
side.

The preaching service over, the non-members left the building, and their
places were immediately filled with those Church members who had been
standing round the doors and windows. Over seven hundred persons were
present to take the communion.

The eyes of the white man who officiated dimmed with tears as he looked
over that crowded assembly of communicants. He thought of those who had
borne the heat and burden of the day, those who had toiled and died
without knowing of any results to their labour; he thought of those who,
baffled and defeated by broken health, had been compelled to retire from
the dangerous climate; he thought of those native teachers who had lived
faithfully and worked arduously to bring about this grand gathering; and
he thought also of that vast number of friends in the homeland who by
their labours, gifts and prayers had made this glorious assembly
possible. Surely all would ultimately rejoice together in the great,
glad cry of Harvest Home! Perhaps--who can tell?--the spirits of those
who have passed away, missionaries and supporters--white and black
workers alike, were, some of them, present at that service and were
rejoicing together over so numerous a company of ransomed souls.

It was in a tremulous voice that the white man addressed a few words to
those who were to be received in that day, and then he took each by the
hand and welcomed him and her into fellowship in the name of the Church.
After that a prayer was offered that these new brethren and sisters
might ever remain true witnesses for Christ, the Saviour.

A hymn was then sung that the hearts and thoughts of all present might
be centred on the purpose of their presence in the gathering--to
commemorate the death of their dear Lord until He come.

One of the deacons prayed for a blessing on the “bread,” and it was then
dispensed among the communicants, and after they had partaken of it they
bowed their heads in reverent worship. The cups were then distributed to
every member in that great assembly. Another deacon pleaded with God for
a blessing on the cup; and then the missionary arose, and holding his
cup in his hand, said: “This cup is the New Testament in My blood: this
do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me. For as oft as ye eat
this bread, and drink this cup ye do show the Lord’s death until He
come.”

And as soon as his tones had died away seven hundred cups were raised
and drained to the memory of their Saviour, and seven hundred hearts
bowed in prayer before the Lord. In a little time there arose upon the
air a song of faith. It was a translation of that incomparable hymn--

               "There is a fountain filled with blood,
                 Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
               And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
                 Lose all their guilty stains.

               "Dear dying Lamb! Thy precious blood
                 Shall never lose its power
               Till all the ransomed Church of God
                 Be saved to sin no more.

               “Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
                 I’ll sing Thy power to save,
               When this poor lisping, stammering tongue,
                 Lies silent in the grave.”

                            NOTES TO PART I

1. _Being only eleven inches long_ (page 1).--Over a very large part of
the Congo soft brass wire of 34 gauge is now, and has been for many
years, the currency and the standard of value among the natives. This
wire was probably, in the first instance, introduced and used for
ornamental purposes, as binding round spears and knives, or beaten out
into ribbons of brass for decorating the hafts of their best spears and
paddles. At first the wire was bought in long lengths of so many
fathoms, according to the needs of the buyer and the purchasing power of
the article he offered the trader in exchange for it. Later they found
it more easy of manipulation to have it in lengths of thirty inches, and
these were shortened by those who had large numbers of them cutting off
a half-inch from each one and melting the small pieces down for brass
anklets, necklets, and bracelets, thus procuring their brass for
nothing, _i. e._ cutting off short pieces from each rod and passing the
rods again into currency at their normal value. So much of this was done
that the thirty-inch rod was reduced to twenty-seven inches, and sellers
of goods consequently demanded more rods of the shorter ones than of the
longer lengths.

This process of snipping off little pieces has gone on for thirty years,
and the result is that the brass rod has gradually decreased in length
until now, on the Lower Congo, it is scarcely five inches, and among the
Boloki of the Monsembe district it is only eleven inches, and if the
introduction of money does not displace the rod it will become only four
or five inches in that part also.

Of course, as the rod lessens in length the seller of an article demands
more of them for his goods. Thus an article that once cost three rods of
thirty-inch wire now costs thirty of the five-inch rods; for not only
has the rod shortened in length, but through the introduction of so much
brass wire into the country during the last quarter of a century it has
decreased in value. I hope some day to take the Rod among those people
who use an eleven-inch brass rod as their money.

2. _Kroo boys_ (p. 3).--These were natives procured from the Kroo Coast
to work the cargo on the steamers that ran along the west coast of
Africa. Only sufficient white sailors were carried to work the ship from
starting port to the Kroo country. On arrival there, the ship fired a
gun to intimate its need of a gang of Kroo “boys” to handle the cargo.
These “boys” were any age from about eighteen to fifty, and in a gang
there were generally about forty to fifty “boys” under a head man.

Most captains had a head man who gathered a gang ready by the time his
ship returned from its European port. For example: a ship leaves
Liverpool, and on arriving at the coast picks up its head man and gang
of “boys,” who work the winches, man the boats and handle the cargo all
the way along the coast and back again to their own country, where they
are paid off in barter goods, powder, guns, rum and gin at the rate of
one shilling a day. They then rest after their arduous work until that
ship returns, and they engage themselves for another trip. The Congo
boats now pick up their Kroo “boys” at Sierra Leone on the outward
voyage, and drop them there on the homeward journey, and pay them in
cash at the rate of about one shilling to one and sixpence per day and
their rations.

When not in port these Kroo “boys” polished the brasswork, scraped the
iron, cleaned the paint, holystoned the deck, etc.; but when in port
they went into the holds, tied up the cargo in slings, hoisted it by
winches, put it over the side into boats, and rowed it ashore. They were
hard-working men who toiled from 4 a.m. until 10 or 12 p.m., only
resting for their meals of boiled rice, salt beef or fish, and ship’s
biscuits.

3. _Peasoup_ (p. 4).--When the writer went to Congo first in 1881 there
came on board at the Kroo coast a head man whose name was Peasoup. For
many years he had acted as head man for the captain of that ship, who,
as an acknowledgment of his various good qualities, and as a joke,
presented him with a brass plate to hang round his neck by means of a
chain. The following words were engraved on it--

                                PEASOUP

                       Captain Jolly’s Head Man.
                      A Rogue, Thief, and a Liar.

Peasoup was a tall, thin, grey-headed, bandy-legged man; and I used to
see him polish the plate every morning, hang it across his chest, and
with knock-knees and bandy legs strut the deck and order his men about
as proud as any general with a breast hidden by medals.

Peasoup knew English fairly well, but, of course, could not read it; but
he would never accept as true the accurate rendering of his much-prized
brass plate. Passengers read it correctly to him; but with a laugh he
would retort: "You white men, you no sabbe read them thing properly. Him
live for say: ‘Peasoup, Captain Jolly’s Head Man. Him be plenty, proper,
good man.’"

Since those days Peasoup has passed away, leaving his brass plate as an
heirloom to his family, and if not melted down into a brass ornament, it
may turn up some day as a relic of a joke played by a master on a decent
servant in “the good old days” on the West African Coast.

4. _Riddles and conundrums_ (p. 9) were called _ngwala_; _ta e ngwala_ =
to pour out or ask a riddle; _twasa e ngwala_ = to fetch a riddle here,
_i. e._ give us a riddle; _nua e ngwala_ = give us the answer, or, lit.,
to drink the riddle.

_Ngwala_ also means spirits, rum, gin, from a corruption and a
shortening of the Portuguese word _aguardente_ = _gwaladente_ =
_ngwala_. The “r” is always turned into “l,” and the “g” takes the nasal
“n” before it. It is very probable that they pun on the double meaning
of the word _ngwala_ = riddle, and gin. Hence the usual form of asking a
conundrum is--

_Ngwala yeye_ = here is gin, _i. e._ here is a riddle.

_Ta e ngwala_ = pour out the gin, _i. e._ state the riddle (or _twasa e
ngwala_ = bring the gin here).

If those asked cannot give the answer, they say--

_Nua e ngwala_ = drink the gin, _i. e._ give us the answer yourself, as
we cannot guess it.

The natives of the Lower Congo are very fond of this pastime, but one
needs to understand the customs, language, and surroundings to properly
appreciate the conundrums; consequently only a few almost self-evident
ones, or those easily explained, are put in the text.

5. _It was a fetish_ (p. 12).--The early traders on the Congo placed in
their large stores a fetish to deter the natives from robbing them. It
was generally a large, gaudily-coloured, hideous image put on the top
shelf opposite the door, from which position it was supposed to dominate
and guard the contents of the whole building. Many traders called their
store “the fetish” because of the presence of this ugly figure in it.

This fetish exercised little, if any, deterrent power over the natives
for two reasons: (1) No witch-doctor would waste good “medicine,”
procured with difficulty, on making a fetish powerful for a mere white
man, and the natives knew this; and (2) supposing the witch-doctor put
proper “medicine” into the fetish, yet it needed periodic reinvigorating
at the hands of the witch-doctor, otherwise it became weak and useless;
and it would also require a sacrifice, certainly not less frequently
than once a month, of either a large fowl or a goat, or it would become
sulky and not act on behalf of its owner. Now I never heard of a white
man renewing the energy of his fetish by paying a witch-doctor to
palaver over it at stated intervals, nor did I ever hear of a white man
offering a sacrifice to the fetish in his store; therefore while the
trader was relying on his fetish to guard his goods, his native servants
and workpeople were laughing at it as an ineffective carved figure.

6. _In the sea there is a hole_ (p. 17).--Water sprites are supposed to
make the trade cloth, and as it is so finely woven the natives think
that these particular sprites have only _one eye_, i. e. that the visual
power of two eyes is focussed in one that it may see to do such fine
work.

7. _Some of his companions laughed_ (p. 20).--We are apt to think that
all natives are equally superstitious, but that is not so. A man may be
a devout believer in charms and fetishes, he may decorate his person,
his house, his children, his pigs, his goats and his dogs with as many
charms as he can afford to buy, or he may quietly leave all the charms
and fetishes severely alone, and no one will think the better or worse
of him; but he must believe in witchcraft, in witches and their occult
power, or his life will be made wretched with accusations of witchcraft.
I have known some natives to surround themselves with fetishes and
charms, and most scrupulously observe all rites and ceremonies, and I
have known others to disregard the whole box of tricks and hold them in
contempt.

8. _Burial postponed_ (p. 24).--It is not uncommon to postpone the
funeral of an important person for many months, and even years. The
writer once buried a man who had been dead for nearly fifteen years. The
persons responsible put off the expense as long as possible, and it is
probable they would not then have interred the corpse, but the King
ordered the family “to finish the palaver.” There was another case of a
body being left unburied for over twenty years because the man who was
responsible for the cost of the funeral believed that he would “die the
day after he buried the corpse.” Many thought that this was only an
excuse to avoid the expense. The body was dried, wound in cloth, stored
in a house specially built for the purpose, and guarded by relays of
young women.

9. _Nkandu_ (p. 25).--See Chapter XVIII on Governing, Marketing, and
Trading (p. 223).

10. _Cassava flour_ (p. 26).--Mandioc (or cassava) was introduced into
Congo from South America about the end of the fifteenth or beginning of
the sixteenth century. Its native name is _madioka_, an evident attempt
at saying mandioc. The roots when matured were soaked for a few days in
pools, or streams, by which time they were soft. They were then peeled,
cut in halves or quarters, and put on stones and small platforms in the
sun until the pieces were quite dry. After this the pieces were laid out
on shelves over their fires until friable, and they were then easily
pounded in a mortar, sifted through a fine sieve, and the result was a
very fine, white flour. Raw mandioc contains prussic acid, but the
poison is eliminated by heat.

11. _Kwanga_ (p. 26).--The cassava root was soaked, peeled, and cored,
as under note 10. Then, instead of being dried, it was thoroughly
kneaded and all lumps removed. The dough-like substance was made into
long sausages of various lengths and thicknesses, according to the
districts, or into balls like suet puddings. I have seen the sausages in
one district twenty feet long and two inches thick, and in another
twelve inches long and four inches thick. But whatever the shape, the
dough was wrapped in palm-leaves, or in leaves like the aspidistra, and
steamed until well cooked. These _kwanga_ would then keep sweet for
several days. They were sold on the markets, and an average price would
be at the rate of four shillings for two cwt.; and four pounds were
quite sufficient for a man per day.

12. _Bolt his food_ (p. 29).--It was not the custom at ordinary meals
for the natives to eat greedily, but on occasions such as this, when all
sorts of folk were thrown together, each one ate as much as he could
get. See paragraph on greediness in the Introduction to the “Folk-Lore
Stories.”

13. _Luku_ (p. 38).--The cassava flour is made as under note 10, and the
_luku_ is prepared in the following way: A saucepan of water is set on
the fire, and when the water boils, the cook takes a basket of the flour
and sprinkles it with one hand in the boiling water and stirs it with a
stick held in the right hand. This process is continued until the
porridge is stiff and can be turned out as one whole pudding from the
saucepan. When a person is eating it, he breaks off a piece, rolls it in
his fingers, dips it in some gravy and then lets it roll down his throat
without masticating, otherwise it will stick to the teeth like toffee.

14. _Glass vessel_ (p. 44).--In the original it is _ekumbi dia pelo_ =
ship of glass; pelo is from the Portuguese _espelho_ = mirror, glass,
etc. Probably glass was first seen by the natives in the form of
looking-glasses, and _ekumbi dia pelo_ might be translated--the mirror
or looking-glass ship.

The introduction of glass, guns, etc., into their stories are indicative
of native readiness to expand their tales by the free assimilation of
new ideas received from contact with foreigners. This has also had a
wide influence on their language and fetish religion. This story I first
heard in 1882 at San Salvador.

15. _Laid beads_ (p. 45).--In San Salvador and district beads form the
currency. They are round blue beads three-eighths of an inch in length
and about a quarter of an inch thick. One hundred of these beads
threaded on a cotton cost, invoice price, one farthing, and one egg cost
one string of beads. It was possible to buy little lots of food for ten
and fifteen beads. The phrase “laid beads” is equal to “laid money.” In
an Upper River story the fowl “laid brass rods,” _i. e._ the currency,
money.

16. _Ndungu_ (p. 52) is equivalent to our phrase “you are becoming
cold,” and the more indifferently it was uttered by the crowd, the more
certain was the witch-doctor that he had guessed wide of the mark. See
next note.

17. _Otuama_ (p. 52) is our way of saying “you are becoming hot,” and by
this the witch-doctor knew he was getting very near in his guesses, and
the more excitedly it was shouted, the nearer the guesser knew he was to
the facts of the case. In Chapter XXII the whole trick is more fully
explained. See also preceding note.

18. _Ran for his gun_ (p. 53).--I was talking in 1908 to a former
witch-doctor, who told me that he had been threatened three times with
guns by those whom he had accused of witchcraft, and if he had not
precipitately fled he would have been shot. Hence those _ngangas_ who
engaged in witch-finding always made sure of their fees first, and sent
them away by their assistants, hurrying off themselves directly they had
accused their man. It was dangerous work.

19. _Mboma_ (pp. 59, 78).--In San Salvador and its neighbourhood this
word meant the south bank of the Congo River from Ennoki to Matadi, or
such trading-stations as existed on that part of the river. This _mboma_
was from eighty to ninety miles from San Salvador, and took a caravan
about five days to traverse it. Special letter carriers would cover the
distance in three days. This word we generally translated “coast.”

20. _Congo dia Ngungu_, or, in its fuller native form, _Ekongo dia
Ngunga_ (p. 60).--Scattered over the country are several Congos (or
Kongos), as _Kongo dia Mpalabala_, _Kongo dia Lembwa_, etc. To
distinguish San Salvador from the other towns bearing the name of Kongo
it was known by the natives either as _Kongo dia Ntotela_ = Kongo of the
King, or _Kongo dia N gunga_ = Kongo of the Bell. The former designation
referred to the town as the capital of the country and the residence of
the King. The latter name is probably due to the fact that the
Portuguese Roman Catholics in the sixteenth century built a cathedral
and monastery there, and used a large bell to call the people to the
services. Such a bell would be a wonder to the natives, and quite
sufficient to cause them to name the town the Kongo of the Bell.

21. _Smell of white man_ (p. 61).--However contemptuously we may talk
about the “smell of niggers” or “of Chinese” and others, there is no
doubt that we of the white race emit an odour that is very noticeable to
other races. Repeated bathing and frequent changes of clothes will not
eradicate the odour, for a black man can tell when another black man has
been within a yard of any white man for a short time. Account for it how
you will, the black, red, yellow and white races each emits an effluvium
peculiarly its own and offensive to the others--we must, therefore, bear
and forbear. We as a white race are used to our own scent and do not
notice it, and when one lives a long time amongst black people he
becomes accustomed to their odour.

Occasionally I have been with a white man who, in spite of scrupulous
cleanliness, was very malodorous through suffering from empyreuma; and I
have met here and there a native whose smell was especially offensive,
and it was as objectionable to his black neighbours as to us. The
natives have a definite word for such malodorous emanations. Some lads
have told me that the perspiration of some white men has made them
vomit.

22. _You white man_ (p. 63).--A native has just as much objection to
being called “a white man” as a white man has to being called “a
nigger.” In both languages it is an insult to be resented.

23. _Screaming_ (p. 64).--In the pioneer years of the mission, when
white folk were seldom seen and were always regarded with superstitious
fear, I was frequently startled out of my sleep by women screaming out:
“The white man has stolen my child!” And I have wondered on more than
one occasion whether the half-sleepy folk would in a stupid panic turn
me out of their town in the middle of the night or do even worse.

24. _Mboma_.--See note 19.

25. _Fines paid for judging_ (p. 92).--All fines received by a native
judge are periodically divided among the chiefs of the district, who
combine to enforce the law. If a pig or a goat is given, then the meat
is shared out or the market value put into the fund. The money or goods
are divided according to the rank and influence of the chiefs, and he
who might be called the chairman, or principal, received twice as much
as any of the others.

26. _No shelves_ (p. 95).--Many years ago, after much persuasion, I
induced some natives from the Zombo country to come into my house at San
Salvador. The first thing they did was to scan with much eagerness the
walls of my rooms, and on asking them what they were looking for, they
replied, “We have always heard and believed that you white men bought up
the dead bodies of the black people, stored them on shelves in your
houses, and on the first good opportunity sent them to Mputu (Europe),
where by your wonderful magic you returned the life of the corpses, and
they then worked for you as slaves; but we cannot see the shelves.”

“But why did you think we bought corpses?” I asked, with much wonder and
amazement.

“We can understand why traders come to this country,” they answered,
“but we cannot understand why your kind of white men come, for you do
not trade, so we think you have some wicked purpose underlying your
presence in our land.”

Believing such ghastly things about us, their opposition to us and
hatred of us were no longer a surprise to me. The wonder is that they
did not murder all of us. We have had to live down their prejudices,
remove their foolish beliefs about us, and turn their suspicions into
confidence and love.

27. _Trade gin_ (p. 99).--Whatever ordinary gin may be, “trade gin” was
the vilest concoction of fusel oil and other ingredients that was ever
put on the market for human consumption. It always made the drinkers mad
drunk, and was responsible for most of the quarrels and much of the
fighting that took place among the natives. I have known a white man
take to drinking it and be dead in less than a week, and undoubtedly it
was the cause of many deaths among the natives. A dozen reputed pints in
bottles, case, packing, etc., cost only half-a-crown the lot.

28. _Law against the sale of spirits_ (p. 102).--Since the time
mentioned in the text a law has been passed limiting the sale of these
“fire waters” within certain boundaries, and restricting the sale of
them, so that neither white nor black can procure them without special
“permits.”

29. _Make them sell it_ (p. 102).--Several traders have told me how much
they hated selling such vile stuff to the natives; how they had
protested against the sale; but that they were compelled to sell them as
they yielded such large profits to their employers. Surely the curse of
both God and man must ever rest on such gains!

30. _His santu_ (p. 111).--All the men and women in and around San
Salvador, and a large proportion of those living in the other districts
of the Lower Congo, have each a _santu_, from the Portuguese word
_sancto_ = a christian, or sacred, name.

At birth a native name is given to the boy (or girl), and later in
life--at twelve or fourteen--the lad can take another name of his own
choice if, for any reason, he is dissatisfied with his birth name, and
allow his first one to be forgotten by disuse. While in their teens they
also select a _santu_ which is a Congoized form of a Portuguese name, as
Manwele = Manuel = Emanuel; Nzwau = Jaõa = John; Petelo = Pedro = Peter,
etc.; and the women take Madia = Maria = Mary, etc. To their _santus_
they prefix “Dom” and “Donna” respectively.

In San Salvador and the near towns every man and woman has a _santu_,
but the farther you travel from San Salvador, the less frequently is the
_santu_ found among the people. Undoubtedly it is a survival of the
_sancto_ given by the Roman Catholics to those who were baptized into
their Church.

Although the possession of “Dom” and “Donna” was so common, yet the use
of them was somewhat restricted to the better class of natives, much the
same as our use of Mr. and Mrs. and Miss. Of some men the natives never
spoke without calling them “Dom,” and to others they never prefixed the
“Dom” except when they wanted to ingratiate themselves or ask a special
favour.

31. _To represent dolls_ (p. 114).--The girls would often procure pieces
of firewood or cassava roots to represent dolls, and play with them as
such, carrying them tied to their backs, or on their hips, by old rags,
just as their mothers carried them when babies. These dolls they washed
in old saucepans, and held them out for a few minutes in the sun to dry,
as they themselves had been washed and dried. Then they dressed them in
strings of beads and a few imitation charms and re-tied them on their
backs.

When I first saw this performance--nearly thirty years ago--I felt great
pity for the wee girls having such poor dolls, and sent home to buy a
few for them. In due time they arrived, and the first girl I met
carrying a cassava root (in shape like a parsnip) I offered her one of
my dolls. She looked at it in great consternation--it was something
uncanny to her. It had legs, arms, body, head and a face just like a
human being. It was only with much persuasion that I prevailed on her to
exchange her root for my doll. A few days afterwards I heard that my
doll was sold on the market at a good price as a white man’s powerful
fetish. The other dolls remained in the box, although there were many
requests for them. We had not gone there to supply fetishes.

32. _Size of the King of San Salvador_ (p. 138).--On August 3, 1882, I
wrote as follows to a friend in England: "I have done a very foolish
thing to-day, for I have promised his majesty that I will ask you to
make him three shirts. I have not given him a personal present yet, and
thought some shirts would be suitable. I want you to buy three different
patterns of good, strong, showy stuff, with plenty of colour. The shirts
must have cuffs, collars and fronts.

"The measurements are as follows--

"Across the shoulders, 2 feet 11 inches.

"Waist, 5 feet 8 inches in circumference.

"Armholes, 23 inches in circumference.

"Round the neck, 20 inches.

"Arm, 1 foot 3 inches, not including the cuff, which is 5 inches long.

"Cuff, 9 inches round.

"From top to bottom, 3 feet 6 inches.

"I should tell you the King is clever with his needle, and his
twenty-two wives are just as clever at farming.

“One boy wants to know what sort of work our Queen does.”

The shirts had to be larger than above measurements to be loose on him.

33. _Driver-ants_ (p. 144), when searching for food, march four or five
abreast in a continuous line across country. I have known them to be
three days and nights hurrying past a given point, and when disturbed
they swarm over the ground. Looking at the crowd of people thrown from
the photographic slide on to the sheet impressed the King, and in
comparing the numbers of people to driver-ants covering the ground, he
used a very good simile.

34. _Dressed worse than slaves_ (p. 147).--Except on very special gala
days, the chiefs, head men, and freemen dressed in a very poor,
unpretentious style. This was to avoid suspicion, jealousy, and the evil
eye. Dressing badly, no one would know that they were rich, and
consequently would not cast the evil eye on them, nor try to render them
unlucky, etc., by the aid of witchcraft. The slaves were known as such,
therefore it did not matter how well they arrayed themselves; no one
would be jealous of them nor try to harm them by paying the fees of
witch-doctors. Thirty years ago the casual visitor would, five times out
of six, mistake the slave for the head man and the chief for a slave, or
poor man, on account of the difference in their garments.

35. _Sleep well_ (p. 148).--The morning greeting was: _Olele kiambote_ =
Have you slept well? The answer was: _Ndele kwame_ = I have slept well.
Good-night was: _Wenda leka kwambote_ = Go and sleep well; and the
answer: _Sala leka kwambote_ = Stay and sleep well. To sleep properly
and soundly was regarded as an infallible sign of good health.

36. _Papyrus string_ (p. 148).--The papyrus (_diwu_) was found very
plentifully in the many swamps around San Salvador, and was cut in
lengths of about nine feet. The outer skin was peeled off, when fresh
and green, in strips of half an inch, one end of the strip was held
between the thumb and index finger of the left hand, and then the right
hand very quickly twisted the strip, and to keep it from untwisting the
two ends were tied together and it was thrown into the sun. When dry the
strip would retain the twist, and, before using, a dozen of the twisted
strips were soaked in water to render them pliable. Such string was
commonly used for tying fences, and would last nearly twelve months, _i.
e._ as long as the other materials in the fence. It was very economical
and durable.

37. _Roasted plantain_ (p. 149).--As a rule, bananas were eaten ripe and
raw, and plantain green and roasted. Peel a nice large plantain, drop it
in the hot ashes, turn it from side to side until done, scrape off the
ash-dirt, then split it, rub in some butter and salt, and with a very
little imagination you have a hot roll.

38. _Portugal, Holland, or England_ (p. 156).--In the long ago, Portugal
was the only white man’s country known to the natives, and it is just
possible that Mputu (native name for all white countries) is a
corruption and a shortening of Portugal. There were more Portuguese
traders in Congo than from any other country; next after them were the
Dutch or Hollandaise, and lastly, in numbers, the English, who at that
time were only known as missionaries. The natives consequently thought
that Portugal was a larger and more populous place than the other
countries, then Holland the next in size, and lastly England, hence
their discussion.

39. _Stretched out the legs in front of a chief_ (p. 163).--To stretch
out the legs (and show the soles of one’s feet) before any one was
regarded as extremely rude, and a mark of disrespect which was resented
by him who had the power. To act so unceremoniously before a king or
great chief was punished by fines, floggings, and sometimes death. It
was worse than a man keeping on his hat in the presence of royalty.

40. _Rob them of their country and make them slaves_ (p. 172).--These
fears were constantly expressed in the early and middle eighties by both
King and people. The following is the true history of how one treaty was
made with a native king--

In 1884, a copy of _Le Mouvement Geographique_ fell into my hands, and
in it was a letter that was said to have been sent by Dom Pedro V, King
of Congo, to the King of Portugal. In it the former acknowledged the
latter as his liege lord and used every expression of fealty, loyalty,
and submission. I remember that the letter was, at the time, put forward
as a proof of the righteousness of the Portuguese claim to the Congo;
and it certainly helped them in gaining a part of what is now called
Portuguese Congo.

Having occasion to speak with the King about that time, I asked him if
he had written the said letter, and I gave him a translation of it. The
old man was sitting in a high-back, embossed, leather chair, and rising
from it, he said, “My brother, the King of Portugal, sent me this chair,
and I sent him a letter thanking him for his gift, and that is the only
letter I ever signed my mark to or ordered to be sent.” He had signed
away his country in saying “thank you for a chair.”

Attached to the letter were the names of the head Portuguese Roman
Catholic priest, a Portuguese trader, and a French trader, as witnesses
to the King’s mark. Shortly after reading this letter I met M. D----,
the French trader, and told him I had just seen the said letter. I
reminded him of its date, and asked, “Why was not I requested to sign
this letter, for all the other white men in San Salvador signed it, and
I was here on that date? Am I not a white man?”

M. D---- answered, “We did not ask you to witness the King’s mark
because we felt sure you would not do it until the King thoroughly
understood the real purport of the letter.”

I thanked M. D---- for his estimate of my character, and gave him my
view of the manner in which they had deceived and defrauded the King.

The King thought he was saying: Thank you for a few presents sent him by
a brother sovereign; but he was signing away his territory to another
power, and in this way he and his people were defrauded of their true
rights. They have every reason to hate white men for robbing them of
their country and reducing them to slavery.

41. _Kill herself_ (p. 181).--Suicide was not uncommon on the Lower
Congo. Both men and women committed it for much the same reason as folk
do in England.

42. _Oily-face_ (p. 183).--A lightish skin (not the colour of a
half-caste or an albino’s skin) and an oily face were signs of beauty,
hence the proverb: “The toad has an oily face where his father’s sister
is,” _i. e._ A person is always beautiful to his own family.

43. _Girl’s father of no importance_ (p. 187).--On the Lower Congo there
is mother-right but no father-right. The children belong to the mother’s
family and not to the father. He has no rights over them, nor does he
arrange for the marriage of his daughters, and he receives a very small
share only of the marriage money paid for his daughters.

44. _Rest claimed by the uncle_ (p. 188).--(See also note 43.) The uncle
was the head of his sisters’ families and the guardian of their
children, _i. e._ of his nieces and nephews. His eldest sister’s eldest
son was his heir. He helped his nephews when starting in life, and
assisted each in paying the marriage money for his first wife, and
arranged for the marriage of his nieces.

He claimed the great bulk of the marriage money for this reason: Suppose
he received £3 for his niece, and after five years she died, her husband
would come to the uncle and say, “I gave you £3 for the loan of your
niece, and she is now dead. I want my money back, and as you have had
the use of it for five years I expect 20_s._ interest on top.” Now
probably the uncle would not be able to pay this relatively large sum,
and in lieu of it would give another woman as a wife to the man. In
another five years, we will say, the second wife dies, and the husband
goes to the uncle and says, “The second woman you let me have is dead,
and as you have had the use of my money for ten years I want it returned
with 40_s._ interest.” (Sometimes they demand the equivalent of 80_s._
to 100_s._ interest.)

The uncle cannot meet so large a demand, so he gives another--the
third--woman, and should she die the husband has no further claim either
for the capital sum, interest, or another woman. Should the husband die,
then his heir has the same claim on the uncle up to three women, or the
money with interest; and if the uncle dies, then his heir who receives
his property is responsible for the claims of the husband or of his heir
up to three women or the money. (See note 54.) As the uncle took the
greater risks, it was only right that he should take most of the money.
Whatever the father received was his absolutely, without any risks.

45. _Girl received little presents_ (p. 188).--After a man has paid a
part or the whole of the marriage money, he will make presents of cloth,
fish, meat and trinkets to his betrothed. Should the negotiations for
her be broken off, he will put an exorbitant value on those presents,
and complicate matters by his demands. An unbetrothed girl would not
receive presents from a young man without the consent of her family, and
if she did do so without such consent, and the young man applied to the
family for her hand in marriage and was refused, he would demand all his
presents back, or in lieu of them a most extortionate price. Hence no
girl would accept a present from a man unless she knew that her uncle
and her family regarded his suit with favour. There are, of course,
untractable nieces on the Congo as there are unreasonable daughters in
Europe.

46. _Girl’s mother agreed_ (p. 188).--Every wise young man would by
various presents gain the goodwill of his future mother-in-law,
otherwise she could, under different pretexts, cause the marriage to be
postponed, and make herself very disagreeable and objectionable when she
could no longer hinder it.

47. _Sign of the cross_ (p. 199).--In the latter part of the fifteenth
century the Portuguese Roman Catholics were present in San Salvador, and
during the next half-century they became predominant in the local,
political, and religious life of the people. They introduced many
superstitions, images, relics and rites. In the early eighties we saw
Romish images used as fetishes, relics and the cross used as charms, and
baptismal rites practised as a superstitious ceremony. The mark of the
cross enters largely into the catalogue of the witch-doctor’s
stock-in-trade.

48. _I swear by my mother_ (p. 205).--In the Congo language there is no
lack of oath phrases. And these may be divided into four classes--

(1) Swearing by one’s relations, as shown in the text. Any near relative
may be substituted for mother. This may be extended into: By my mother,
may I never see her deathbed, or may my mother desert me.

(2) Swearing by a notable person or place: By the great King. By Dom
Alvaro. By the road to Congo. By the path to the tomb of the deceased
King.

(3) Swearing by the fetishes; and this may be divided into two classes:
(_a_) Those who swear by the ordinary fetishes, as: By the lightning
fetishes (_nzaji_), etc., and (_b_) those who have been initiated into
the _ndembo_ guild and swear by the fetishes of this secret society, as:
May the _nkita_ cause me to go mad. By the _ndembo_ enclosure. By
albinos and dwarfs. These latter are all powerful in the _ndembo_ guild.
(See _Folk-Lore_, June 1909, p. 189.)

(4) Swearing by God, as: May God punish me.

49. _Nearest man fired_ (p. 206).--Hunting laws were very stringent and
had to be carefully observed, or the breaker of them would one day find
that no one would accompany him on his hunts nor allow him to join them
in theirs.

If a man fires at an antelope and it rushes away, the hunter looks to
see if any blood has fallen, or any hairs; if not, it is decided that he
has not killed it, although he may have mortally wounded it; if another
man fires and it drops, it is the latter’s animal. If there is any
dispute as to whether it was killed by the first shot or the second, the
one who is positive and over-rides all argument must take the heart of
the antelope and eat it (not raw). If his shot really killed it all is
well, but if not, the eating of the heart will destroy his _kinkongo_,
or hunting skill. Many a man has relinquished his claim to an animal for
fear of spoiling his luck.

50. _Brave_ (p. 218).--When the natives fight with spears, knives and
arrows they are courageous, and, knowing how far their weapons will
carry, they run in to throw them. They will fight foot to foot with
their knives. To them guns are mysterious things--they pull a trigger
and there is a puff, a bang, and a bullet or slug flies out, and the
distance it will travel is, to them, an unknown quantity. They are not
acquainted with the science of firearms, and are so overawed by the
mysteriousness of these weapons that their natural bravery has not full
play.

51. _Some decoction_ (p. 248).--The witch-doctor procures some bark of
the baobab-tree, presses the juice out of it and rubs this on hand and
arm of the accused person who has well paid him. He can then dare the
boiling oil with impunity.

52. _In whose district his town_ (p. 253).--The “parish” of Wathen is
3000 square miles in extent, and is divided into four and sometimes five
districts, according to the strength of the missionary staff for the
time being. Each district is in charge of a white man, and all the boys
attending school on the station from that district are especially in his
charge. He looks after their welfare, cares for them, attends them in
sickness, listens to their palavers, and acts the part of a father to
them. All the girls from the same district are in the special care of
his wife (if he is a married missionary), and she acts as a mother to
them. All matters connected with the Church members and teachers of the
district are taken first to him, and he settles them upon
well-understood principles, and if any extraordinary issue arises he
consults his colleagues, and they jointly come to a decision, so that
all the districts may be governed on uniform lines. He acts also as a
pastor towards all the Church members of his district.

53. _Sunset at six o’clock_ (p. 257).--The nights and days are about
equally divided, as there are only some fifteen minutes’ difference
during the whole year in the time of the sun’s rising and setting.
Certainly on the Congo there is not that sudden darkness at sunset so
frequently stated in books on the tropics, for the twilight lasts from
thirty to forty minutes.

54. _Women I have borrowed_ (p. 324).--The old word on the Congo for
marriage was _sompa nkento_, which means to borrow a woman (see notes 43
and 44), for which loan the man paid something to the girl’s uncle. All
members of the Church are married by Holy Matrimony, and the word
_sompa_ (or to borrow) has given place to _kazala_ (to take as a wife).




                                PART II
                          Congo Folklore Tales

                                   or

                   Stories told round the Congo Fire

                              INTRODUCTION
                         TO THE FOLKLORE TALES




For many years I have been collecting folklore stories such as are told
round the fires of the Congo villages--stories that have been handed
down from generation to generation; and are so well known that sentences
from them are often quoted, and have thus become the proverbs with which
the natives so freely interlard their talk.

To have printed all the stories collected would have meant a bulky
volume; but these selected for publication are typical of those that
remain, although every story has its own peculiarity of plot,
explanation, or teaching.

Between most of the stories told on the Upper Congo and those related on
the Lower Congo there is, as a rule, this marked difference: the former
try to explain why things are as they are, _i. e._ why people steal, lie
and die; why women run away from their husbands; and why some birds have
nests and other birds none: the latter are didactic parables. The former
are explanatory of habits and customs, and the latter contain the wit,
the wisdom and the moral teaching of many generations, and sum up their
view of life--that the cheat will himself be cheated; that the
unreasonable will be outwitted by craftiness; the tyrant and bully will
eventually be punished, and kindness rewarded with timely succour. I am
of opinion that the former--the explanatory--stage indicates a more
primitive state than the latter or teaching stage, still it would be a
very interesting study to decide this point.

These stories belong to the Lower Congo, and more especially to the
districts around San Salvador (Portuguese Congo), and Ngombe Lutete (or
Wathen in Congo Belge). Some of the Upper River stories I hope to
publish on a future occasion.

While living at San Salvador many years ago, the lads and I, on our
recreation evenings, told each other tales, and it was then that I heard
for the first time some of these stories; a few others I have culled
from the pages of a native magazine called _Ngonde ye Ngonde_ (= “Month
by Month”), printed and published by our Mission at San Salvador; but by
far the larger number were written for me by the teachers and boys of
the Wathen Mission School to whom I gave exercise-books with the request
that they would write out such stories as they could remember, or could
gather from their friends.

I never suggested a story nor a plot to them, for to me personally they
would lose their value if they were the result of any such promptings.
It was not until a large number of them had been collected that any idea
of presenting them in this form entered the mind of the collector. And
folklorists may rest assured that the stories here set before them are
genuinely native in plot, situation, explanation and “teaching,” and,
wherever possible, in idiom also.

In these stories the different birds, insects, reptiles and animals
speak, marry, attend markets, transact business and lay their cases for
decision before the elders as though they were human beings. The heroes
among them are endowed with those qualities most admired by the natives,
while those that are “fooled” are the personification of such
characteristics as awaken only their ridicule and contempt. ’Cuteness,
craftiness and wit are at a premium in these stories, and it is curious
to note that these qualities seem to be the peculiar property of the
small animals, such as the gazelle, the mouse, the squirrel, etc.; and
rarely the possession of the larger animals, as the elephant, buffalo
and leopard; or when two species of the same order--the driver-ant and
the small-ant--are brought into rivalry it is the latter that wins; two
birds, as in “The Crow and the Dove,” it is again the weaker one who
triumphs in the end.

On the other hand gullibility, dupability, utter stupidity and lack of
foresight are associated with bulk, _i. e._ the larger animals are, as a
rule, thoroughly fooled. They have laughed many a time at the way the
Gazelle “fooled” the Leopard, yet I do not think there was one who would
not rather have been the Leopard than the Gazelle--they were not so good
as their philosophy.

Greediness in eating is condemned by all natives, and it is interesting
to note that the only time, in these stories, the Gazelle is caught and
punished it is his greediness that leads to his downfall; and, again, in
the story of the Gazelle and the Palm-rat, the latter is choked, not so
much because he broke his promise--that is regarded as ’cuteness by the
natives--but because he refused to share the palm-nuts with his
companion--an act condemned by all natives. This is a trait well marked
in the native character. Any one of them will scramble and wrangle for
as big a portion of anything going as he can get; but once he has it he
will share it with any of his family, or his companions, or even with
strangers who happen to be present when he is eating it.

Again and again, when I have given portions of food or salt to a boy,
the recipient has shared it equally with his comrades. Here is a monkey
to be divided among a dozen boatmen. Two of them will be set to clean it
and divide it into twelve portions, and they will be very careful to
make all the divisions equal, because by an unwritten law, which I have
never seen infringed, the two who apportioned the meat will not take
their shares until the others have selected theirs. This is a guarantee
that all the portions will be alike, otherwise the last would come off
very badly. Each as he chooses will select what he considers to be the
largest heap; but once he has it, he is quite willing to share it with
any or all of his comrades.

There is a delightful absence of proportion in these stories, for in
them mice and birds marry young women; a mouse carries the head of a
leopard in his bag and brags that he has eaten nine leopards, and
although he punishes the elephant and the buffalo he has to cry for help
against the hyena; the gazelle eats whole pigs and goats; and a
chameleon snarls and the elephant, leopard and other animals run away in
terror. Nothing is strange or incongruous in a land where witch-doctors
abounded, and were credited with performing wonders by their supposed
magical powers. If you questioned any feat, you were at once told most
emphatically: “Well, it was done by his magic, or his fetish, or his
charm performed it.”

In all the animal stories in this collection the different animals
mostly address each other as “uncle,” irrespective of sex; but as this
would have been confusing to the reader, I have only retained the term
where it fits the sex of the one addressed. In the Congo language there
is no gender, and the animals belong to various classes (there are
fifteen classes in the Lower Congo language); but directly they are used
in stories, and have human characteristics ascribed to them, they are
removed from their different classes and placed in the first, or
personal, class, e.g. _Nsexi_ is in the second class, and its pronominal
prefix is _i_ singular, and _zi_ plural; but being moved into the first
class it becomes a person, and its prefix is _o_ singular, and _be_
plural--the animal is no longer an “it,” but a “he” or “she.”

Included in this collection are a few stories that are not animal ones,
as "The Water-Fairies save a Child"--a warning to parents not to be
unreasonable in their punishments; "The Story of two Young Women"--a
lesson on vanity, and that wealth does not always bring happiness; and
"The Adventures of the Twins"--a whimsical criticism on how human beings
should be made in order to avoid the inconveniences, limitations and
troubles that attend their present mode of construction.

The reader must not be surprised to find that some of these stories are
similar to those made famous by Uncle Remus,[68] and the reason is not
far to seek. About three generations ago the Congo natives were
transported in large numbers as slaves to America, and naturally they
carried with them their language and their stories. The _goobah_ in
_Uncle Remus_ is a corruption of _nguba_, the Lower Congo word for
peanut; and Brer Rabbit is the gazelle,[69] Brer Fox is the leopard, and
the Tar-baby is the fetish called _Nkondi_; but in the Tar-baby a
concession is made to civilization, for in Uncle Remus’s account the
image is covered with tar to account for Brer Rabbit sticking to it,
whereas in what I believe to be the original story the _Nkondi_ image
causes the victim to stick by its own inherent fetish power. In “Cunnie
Rabbit, Mr. Spider and the other Beef,” there is a story of a Wax-girl,
which has all the elements of the Tar-baby, and here again the wax that
causes the sticking is a concession, I think, to civilization like the
tar.

Footnote 68:

  C. J. Harris, in his introduction to _Uncle Remus and His Sayings_
  (Ward, Lock and Co., 6_d_. edition) mentions Prof. J. W. Powell, of
  the Smithsonian Institute, and Herbert H. Smith as having found
  similar stories “in a number of languages, and in various modified
  forms.” The former among the North American Indians, and the latter
  among the South American Indians, and one in particular he has traced
  to India, and as far east as Siam. I would refer the reader to that
  Introduction for further details.

Footnote 69:

  It is said there are no true gazelles in Africa, whether that is so or
  not I have found it convenient to translate the Congo word _nsexi_
  uniformly as gazelle. The _nsexi_ is about eighteen inches high, of
  slight body, thin legs, whitey-brown stomach, and brownish-grey back,
  small, sharp-pointed horns, small head, and large pathetic eyes. The
  _nsexi_ is very agile, and I suppose that the slaves from the Congo
  finding no such animal in their new home in America, used the rabbit
  as a substitute--also there are no leopards there, so they transferred
  his gullibility to the fox, wolf and bear.

All raw natives would believe that a fetish by its own magical powers
could hold tightly its victim without the aid of such extraneous things
as tar and wax. It is apparent that the narrators have lost faith in the
magical powers of their fetish, and have introduced the wax and the tar
to render their stories a little more reasonable to themselves. It is
interesting to note that when Brer Rabbit was thrown among the leaves of
the briar bush he unsticks from the Tar-baby, and in the Leopard
sticking to the _Nkondi_ the Gazelle “cuts some leaves and made a charm
to set the Leopard free.” One can discover many similarities between
these stories and those told by Uncle Remus. There is little doubt that
most, if not all, the stories of Remus were told around the Congo
village fires before they delighted the hearts and lightened the burdens
of the negro slaves on the southern plantations of America. Yet is Congo
the original home of these stories? Or have they travelled far by
devious ways, perhaps even doubling back in their course, so that their
real home is now lost in antiquity, and the road to it obliterated by
the swamps of time across which the human family has wandered in its
many journeyings?

The natives in their talk often use phrases from their stories which are
quite sufficient to recall to the hearers the whole fable and its
teaching, as “sour grapes” with us conjures up the fox looking with
longing eyes at the fruit beyond his reach. Many of these concentrated
sentences have become the proverbs of to-day, and the Lower Congo
language is rich in such _mots_, and one could, in fact, gain a very
clear idea of the Congo man’s philosophy from an analysis of the
sentences culled from their stories which have become their maxims.

In these pages will be found some puzzle stories, such as “The Four
Fools” and “The Four Wonders.” These are propounded and cause no end of
discussion as to which has performed the greatest feat of skill, and
thus earned the fowl that laid money (_i. e._ beads); and also who had
committed the greatest wrong against the usual order of mundane affairs,
and thus deserved the most blame. Each fool and each wonder-worker has
his adherents, who will argue in his favour with so much vehemence and
gesticulation that the listener who does not know them will think them
on the verge of a most desperate fight. After long and toilsome journeys
the writer has heard his carriers argue about these problem stories far
into the night; and they would return again and again to the charge,
each individual (or party) supporting his favourite character with all
the natural eloquence at his command. Night after night they would
revert to the same story in order to give expression to the arguments,
in favour of their views, that had come into their minds through the day
while journeying with their loads up and down the hills. One problem
story has furnished them, sometimes, with sufficient discussion to last
four or five nights.

The stories are told round the fire on nights that are too dark for
dancing. The various groups will arrange themselves round the blazing
hearths, and after the news of the day has been exhausted, one will tell
a story suggested by some item of news, or the action of a friend, or
the saying of an enemy. The story is told with dramatic power and
forcible eloquence, the narrator acting the various parts and imitating
the sounds of the different animals. In some of the stories there are
choruses, and these are taken up and sung heartily to the clapping of
their hands.

There is no greater treat than to listen to a Congo story told in the
original by one of these born story-tellers--the lights and shadows
caused by the flickering fire, the swaying body of the narrator, the
fixed attention and grunts of approval of the listeners, the great dark
beyond, the many mystic sounds issuing from the surrounding bush and
forest lend a peculiar weirdness to the story and its teller.

A father correcting his children will tell them a story to enforce his
teaching, and though wise words might be forgotten, the story will
remain in the memory with guiding or deterrent power; sons and daughters
repeat these stories to their parents if they think they are not being
properly treated according to native ideas.

During a lawsuit the native advocates in stating the case for their
clients will tell stories with great effect, or will illustrate a point
against their opponents by relating a parable suitable to the occasion;
and the judge will often give his verdict by recounting a fable, and if
they do not know one appropriate to the case they will invent one, and
should it happen to be a happy invention it will pass from mouth to
mouth, and thus into the folklore of the district; the current stories,
known to all, are a survival of the fittest, and some of them are here
placed before the reader.

                          CONGO FOLKLORE TALES

                                   I
                      How the Fowl evaded his Debt


Once upon a time a cock Fowl and a Leopard began a friendship, and not
very long afterwards the Leopard lent some money to the Fowl. It was
arranged that on a certain day the Leopard should receive the money at
the Fowl’s residence.

On the morning of the appointed day the Fowl ground up some red peppers,
and mixed them with water so that it looked like blood, and when he
heard that the Leopard was on the way to his house he went into his
courtyard and said to his slaves: “When the Leopard arrives and asks for
me, tell him my head has been cut off and carried to the women in the
farms to be combed and cleaned.” Then he hid his head under his wings
and told them to pour some of the pepper water on his neck, which they
did, and it fell to the ground like blood.

The Leopard arrived and asked for his friend the Fowl. The slaves
repeated what they had been told, and, on the Leopard hearing it, he
wished to be allowed a closer view of the marvel, and on beholding the
red-pepper water dropping to the ground, he thought it was all true.

On returning later he asked the Fowl how it was done, and the Fowl
replied: “When you reach your town, you cut off your head, and send it
to the farm to be combed and cleaned, and there you are.”

“Oh! thank you, friend,” said the Leopard, “I will astonish the natives
of my town.”

Away he went to his town, and told all his wives that he had been taught
some wonderful magic by his friend the Fowl.

“What is it?” they asked.

“Well, my head is cut off,” said the Leopard, “and then you take it to
the farm to comb and clean, and then you bring it back.”

“All right,” they cried in chorus.

The Leopard sent messengers to all the towns in his district, inviting
the folk on a certain day to come and see the wonder. On the day a great
crowd of people arrived, and when all was ready the Leopard went into
the centre, and his head was cut off, but his legs gave way, and he fell
down.

The head was returned after being combed and cleaned, but when they put
it on the neck it would not stay there. Thus died the Leopard because of
his conceit in thinking he could do all that others did; and also
because he did not use his common sense to perceive the foolishness of
what the Fowl told him. Do not believe all you see and hear.




                                   II
                    Why the Small-ant was the Winner


One day a fierce Driver-ant[70] and a Small-ant had a long discussion as
to which of them was the stronger. The Driver-ant boasted of his size,
the strength of his mandibles, and the fierceness of his bite.

“Yes, all that may be true,” quietly answered the Small-ant, “and yet
with all your size and strong jaws you cannot do what I can do.”

“What is that?” sneeringly asked the Driver-ant.

“You cannot cut a piece of skin off the back of that man’s hand, and
drop it down here,” replied the Small-ant.

“Can’t I? All of you wait and see,” said the Driver-ant.

Away he climbed up the man until he reached the back of his hand. At the
first bite of the strong mandibles, the man started, and, looking down
at his hand, saw the Driver-ant, picked it off, and dropped it dead at
his feet right among the waiting crowd of ants.

Footnote 70:

  Driver-ant = _Nsongonia_. Small-ant = _Mfitete_.

The Small-ant then climbed to the place, and gently, softly, with great
patience he worked round a piece of skin until it was loose, and he was
able to drop it to the ground. The waiting throng of ants proclaimed him
the winner, for he had done by his gentleness and patience what the
other had failed to do by his strength and fierceness.




                                  III
                  How the Animals imitated the Gazelle
                  and brought Trouble upon Themselves


Once upon a time a Leopard gave birth to seven cubs, and she asked the
Jackal to act as nurse for her while she was away hunting.

Shortly after the departure of the Leopard the Gazelle arrived, and said
to the Jackal: “Let us eat one of the cubs and then you will have six
left.”

“What shall I do when the Leopard returns?” asked the Jackal.

“Oh! I will help you,” quickly promised the Gazelle.

Thereupon the Jackal gave up a cub, and then another, and another, until
at last all the cubs were eaten.

The Gazelle then tied the Jackal to a tree and said: "When you hear the
Leopard coming, shout out loudly, ‘Murder! Thieves!’"

In a little time the Jackal heard the Leopard bounding through the
forest, and he began to cry out: “We are robbed! we are robbed! Help!
Thieves!”

“What is the matter? What are you crying about?” asked the Leopard.

“Oh!” sobbed the Jackal, “I don’t know at all who tied me up, but all of
your children are eaten.” The Leopard, on hearing this, was very angry.

The reckless, daring Gazelle scampered off, and by and by reached a
place where all the animals were gambling with dice. A Pigeon gave him
the dice to throw, and the Gazelle threw a “Leopard” (the name of a
winning throw). “Oh, dear me!” said the Gazelle, when he saw his luck,
“I have eaten seven young leopards, and nothing has happened to me.”

The other animals thought this was a lucky saying, so they repeated the
words every time they threw the dice. The Gazelle warned them not to
imitate the sayings of others, or trouble would come upon them. But
they, thinking he only wanted to keep his good luck to himself, repeated
the words more earnestly. The Gazelle slipped away to call the Leopard,
and begged her not to be angry with what she would hear.

The Leopard went to the games, and when she heard one animal after
another say: “Oh, dear me! I have eaten seven young leopards, and
nothing has happened to me,” she became so angry that she fought with
the different animals and killed them all. As for the Gazelle, he took
himself out of the way. Thus the animals, through apeing others, lost
their lives.




                                   IV
                  Why the Fowls never shut their Doors


There lived once a chief who owned a large number of Fowls. On arising
early one morning he found that the door of their house had been left
open all night. He thereupon woke up the Head Cock and asked why he had
not shut the door.

The Cock replied: “We did not go to sleep very early last night, as we
quarrelled over who should shut the door. I told one to do it, and he
told another, and at last we became so angry with each other that no one
would shut the door, so we went to sleep leaving it open.”

The owner snapped his fingers in speechless surprise at the Fowl’s
excuse, and walked away.

Another day the chief went to see his wives’ farms and found them all
clean and well weeded, but the road leading to the farms, which was
nobody’s work, was choked with tall grass and weeds. That evening the
chief called out loudly so that all the town could hear: “You women, I
went to your farms to-day, and found the road covered with tall grass
and weeds. Truly you are near relatives of the fowls, who sleep with
open door because each tells the other to shut it. To-morrow all of you
go and clear the road.”

When the Fowls heard these remarks they were very vexed, and the Cock
said: “You have heard what our owner has shouted out to the whole town.
He has held us up as a bad example to all in the place, yet when I went
to a neighbouring town the day before yesterday I saw a buffalo rotting
by the roadside.”

“Why was it rotting there?” asked the Black Hen of her husband.

The Cock replied: "When I reached the town the other day I heard that
Don’t-care, who is the son of Peter Pay-if-you-like, went outside his
house and saw a buffalo; he aroused his companions and told them to go
and shoot it; but they said: ‘Go and shoot it yourself.’ ‘What! am I to
see the buffalo and shoot it also?’ he asked. Thereupon Wise-man fired
at the buffalo, and told another to go and see if it were killed. He
came back and said it was wounded; so another went and killed it; but he
would not cut it up; and another went and cut it into pieces. Then each
thought that the other should carry the flesh into the town;
consequently it was left in the bush, and that was why the buffalo meat
rotted at the roadside."

The Black Hen said: “Indeed, is that so?” But the Speckled Hen observed:
“That it would be better for human beings if they looked better after
their own business, instead of poking their noses into affairs belonging
to Fowls, and holding them up as a bad example to their women.”

The Head Cock said: “That from that day neither he, nor his children,
nor his grandchildren should ever shut the doors of their houses, no
matter how cold it might be, or what risks they might run of being eaten
by wild animals.” Thus it is that Fowls never shut their doors at night.
They are angry that human beings, who conduct their own affairs so
badly, should find fault with the way in which Fowls look after theirs.




                                   V
              Why the Dog and the Palm-rat hate each other


One day the Dog, the Palm-rat, the Hawk, and the Eagle arranged to take
a journey together, but before starting they agreed not to thwart each
other in any matter.

They had not gone very far when the Eagle saw a bunch of unripe
palm-nuts, and said: “When these palm-nuts are ripe, and I have eaten
them, then we will proceed on our way.”

They waited many days until the palm-nuts ripened and were eaten by the
Eagle, then they started again, and by and by the Hawk espied the bush
(a great space covered with tall grass, canes, and stunted trees), and
said: “When this bush is burnt, and I have eaten the locusts, and drunk
in the smoke from the fire, then we will go.”

So they waited while the bush dried, and was burnt, and the Hawk ate his
locusts, and drank in the smoke from the burning grass, then they were
ready to start again; but when the Palm-rat saw the bush was burnt, he
said: “We remain here until the grass and canes have grown again, so
that I may eat the young canes, for remember we agreed not to thwart or
oppose each other on this journey.”

They waited there some months until the canes grew again, and the
Palm-rat had eaten them.

Once more they started on their travels, and on reaching a large forest
the Dog said: “Now I will dry my nose.”

His companions answered: “All right, we will go for firewood.”

The Palm-rat and the Hawk fetched the wood, and the Eagle went for the
fire. The Dog put his nose near the fire, but every time it dried he
made it wet again by licking it. They remained a long time in the
forest, but the Dog’s nose never became properly dry: it was an endless
job. His companions became vexed, and the Hawk and the Eagle flew away,
leaving the Palm-rat and the Dog alone. At last the patience of the
Palm-rat was exhausted, and he, too, ran away; but the Dog chased him to
kill him, and this is the reason why the Dog and the Palm-rat hate each
other. He would not wait until the Dog’s nose was dry.




                                   VI
                  The Leopard boils his Mother’s Teeth


One day the Gazelle bought some maize at the market, and while he was
boiling them at home, the Leopard paid him a visit, and asked him:
“Friend Gazelle, what are you boiling in the saucepan?”

The Gazelle replied: “I am boiling my mother’s teeth.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Leopard, “let me taste them.” So the Gazelle
gave him some of the cooked maize, and the Leopard ate them, and thought
them so good that he went home and pulled out all his mother’s teeth,
and put them to boil in a saucepan.

The Gazelle, passing the house, called in, and seeing the saucepan on
the fire, asked the Leopard what he was cooking. “I am cooking my
mother’s teeth, but they don’t get soft,” answered the Leopard.

The Gazelle laughingly said: “I meant maize, and you have pulled out and
are boiling all your mother’s teeth.” The Leopard was so angry at what
he had foolishly done, that he drove the Gazelle off and wanted to kill
him, but the Gazelle ran away and hid in a log of wood.

The Leopard, returning from his pursuit of the Gazelle, saw the firewood
and carried it home, and, as he was splitting it, out jumped a fine dog.
The Leopard admired the dog so much that he told his wives never to beat
it.

One day one of the wives pointed her finger at it, and the dog was so
insulted at having a finger pointed at him that he howled so long and
loudly that the Leopard came and killed his wife for insulting his dog;
and thus he killed them one after the other; and when they were all
dead, the dog changed back into a Gazelle, and ran away laughing at the
Leopard for his foolishness in mistaking maize for teeth, and a Gazelle
for a dog.




                                  VII
                How the Ants saved the Partridge’s Eggs


Once upon a time a Partridge having laid her eggs, was driven from them
by a Python, who took possession of them by coiling herself round and
round the eggs.

The Partridge, seeing she had been deprived of her eggs, began to call
for help. A Buffalo, hearing her, came and asked what was the matter.

The Partridge said: “The Python has rolled herself round my eggs, and I
want a wise body to save them for me.”

“Don’t worry,” said the Buffalo, “I will go and stamp on her.”

“Not you,” cried the Partridge; “while you are stamping on her you will
smash my eggs. I am looking for a _wise body_ to help me.”

The Partridge continued to call, and the Elephant came asking what was
the matter.

“Oh!” sobbed the Partridge, “the Python has curled round my eggs, and I
want a wise body to save them.”

“Never mind,” replied the Elephant, “I will go and smash her to pulp.”

“Not you,” cried the Partridge, “you will break all my eggs.”

So one animal after another offered help, but they were rejected, as
they could not drive the Python away without endangering the eggs. The
poor Partridge was at her wits’ end, when an army of Driver-ants arrived
and inquired the reason of her calling for help. When they heard the
cause they marched right up to where the Python was, and at once began
to nip, nip, nip with their strong mandibles, and the Python unrolled
herself and glided away as fast as she could. Thus the Ants rescued the
stolen eggs that would otherwise have been broken by the clumsy attempts
of the Buffalo and the Elephant.




                                  VIII
                   The Leopard sticks to the _Nkondi_
                             (Wooden Image)


In the long ago both the Leopard and the Gazelle made new maize farms.
When the ground was ready for planting, the Gazelle put some maize in a
saucepan to boil, and hid the rest of his maize in another place. While
the pot was on the fire the Leopard arrived, and asked: “Friend Gazelle,
what are you boiling?”

“Some maize,” said the Gazelle, “and when it is cooked I am going to
plant maize in my farm.”

The Leopard exclaimed, “Indeed! do you plant boiled maize?”

“Yes,” answered the Gazelle. “I boil all my maize, for then it grows
better.”

The Leopard returned home at once and rubbed all his maize off their
cobs, and boiled the maize. The next morning they both went and planted
their maize in their farms. During the following night, however, the
Gazelle went and planted some unboiled maize in the Leopard’s farm.

After a few days they went to have a look at their farms, and in the
Gazelle’s the whole of the maize was sprouting well, but in the
Leopard’s only the raw maize the Gazelle had planted was growing. The
Leopard could not understand it, for he said: “I well boiled all my
maize, and yet it does not grow.”

By and by the maize was ripe for plucking, and the Gazelle and Leopard
went and pulled what they wanted and returned home. For several nights
after that the Leopard went stealing maize in the Gazelle’s farm, and
one day the Gazelle said to him: “Friend Leopard, who is stealing maize
from my farm?”

“I don’t know,” replied the Leopard. The Gazelle carved a wooden fetish
called the _Nkondi_, and put it in his farm.

The next night the Leopard went and stole some more maize, and as he was
leaving the farm the Nkondi said: “Oh, you are the thief, are you?”

“If you talk like that,” growled the Leopard, “I will hit you.”

“Hit me,” said the _Nkondi_. The Leopard hit him, and his paw stuck to
the image.

“Let go,” cried the Leopard, “or I will hit you with my other hand.”

“Hit me,” repeated the _Nkondi_. The Leopard hit him with the other
hand, and that stuck also to the image.

“Let go,” angrily cried the Leopard, “or I will kick and bite you.”
Which he at once did, as the _Nkondi_ would not let him go, and his feet
and mouth stuck to the image; then both the Leopard and the _Nkondi_
fell to the ground together.

By and by the Gazelle arrived, and when he saw the Leopard sticking to
the _Nkondi_ he said: “Oh, you are the thief,” and, having punished him,
he cut some leaves and made a charm to set the Leopard free. After that
the Leopard never again went stealing in the Gazelle’s maize farm.




                                   IX
                       How the Mouse won his Wife


On one occasion a daughter was born to a lonely pair, and the father
said: “Any one who wants to marry my daughter must first cut down the
mahogany tree standing in my garden.” Years passed, and when the father
was dying he sent and told his wife that only he who felled the mahogany
tree could marry his daughter.

By and by an Elephant arrived, and, sitting down in the town, asked the
girl for a drink of water. She poured some water into a calabash and
gave it to him, and he then asked her: “Are you married?” and she
replied: “No, I am not yet married.” The Elephant said: “I will marry
you.” Whereupon the mother called out: “You can marry her; but you must
first cut down the mahogany tree.” The Elephant took an axe and cut,
cut, cut until he was tired, and then went and rested under the eave of
the house so long that when he went again to the tree it was just as it
was before he cut it. When the Elephant saw that, he threw down the axe,
saying: “It is not my wedding, the woman costs too much.”

As the Elephant was going away he met the Buffalo, and told him all
about it, saying: “I came to marry, but I am not able to fell the tree.”
The Buffalo picked up the axe and cut, cut, cut, and then rested under
the verandah of the house. When he returned to the tree he found it had
grown again to its former size. Down he threw the axe and bolted.

As the Buffalo was rushing away a Lion shouted out: “Where have you come
from?” The Buffalo stopped and told him all his troubles. “Oh,” said the
Lion, “give me an axe, I’ll marry her.” But the same thing happened to
him, and to the Hyena, and to the Leopard also. They all cut at the
tree, got tired, rested too long, and each ran away, saying: “I came to
marry, but the girl is not worth the trouble.”

As the Leopard was bounding away, a Mouse asked him: “What is the
matter?” and the Leopard growled out: “I went to marry a woman, but
whoever marries her must fell the mahogany tree.” Thereupon the Mouse
went and gnawed, gnawed, gnawed without stopping, until at last the tree
toppled over and fell to the ground. When the mother saw the tree fall,
she said: “Mouse, you can sleep here, and in the morning take your
wife.”

In the morning they cut up six pigs and twenty loaves, then the Mouse
took his wife, and they started on their journey to his town. They
reached a stream where they camped for a time, and while there the
Elephant arrived, and the Mouse said to him: “See, this is my wife.”

The Elephant would not agree to that, but said: “She is mine, I married
her.”

“No,” said the Mouse, “she is mine. Accept of two pigs for dinner.”

When the Elephant heard that, he began to beat the Mouse, but the Mouse
entered his trunk and gave him such pain that the Elephant cried: “Come
out, and I will give you two pigs.” The Mouse came out, received his two
pigs, and went off with his wife.

They reached another camping-place, and while resting and eating there,
the Buffalo arrived. “Welcome to you, father,” said the Mouse. But the
Buffalo did not want his welcome, and said he had married the woman, and
when the Mouse would not give her up, the Buffalo hit him on the back
with a stick. The Mouse entered the Buffalo’s ear and gave him so much
pain that he bellowed: “Come out, and I will give you five sheep.” The
Mouse came out, received his five sheep, and went away with his wife.

As they journeyed along they met the Hyena, who said: “Why, that is my
wife,” and when the Mouse denied it, the Hyena became very angry, and
beat the Mouse about in his weakness and made him cry. The Mouse called
the Squirrels, who came and fought the Hyena, and while they were
fighting, the Mouse hurried off with his wife.

They travelled until they came to a high plateau, where they met a large
Rat, who said: “Give me that woman.”

To him the Mouse replied: “I cannot give her, for I have had plenty of
trouble to gain her.”

“Very well,” answered the Rat; “let us go to the drinking-booth, and I
will give you some palm-wine.”

While sitting there the Mouse took a rat’s head out of his bag.

“Where did you get that?” asked the Rat.

“Oh,” boasted the Mouse, “I have eaten nine rats, and you will be the
tenth.” So alarmed was the Rat that he ran away and never said
“Good-bye.”

At last the Mouse reached his town and gave his wife a house. There they
feasted on the pigs and sheep they had gained on the road. But one day
the Leopard paid a visit to the Mouse, and said: “Uncle Mouse, let us
jointly make a maize farm.” This they did, and while the Mouse was
watching the maize one day, the Leopard tried to run away with his wife.
The Mouse, hearing this, invited the Leopard to drink wine in his house,
and while they were drinking, the Mouse took out of his bag a Leopard’s
head.

“Where did you get that?” asked the Leopard.

“Down in the drinking-booth I killed and ate nine,” said the Mouse, “and
you will be the tenth.” The Leopard was so frightened at this, that when
the Mouse told him to get into the calabash, he went right in at once.
The Mouse put in the cork, and then put the calabash on the fire, and
thus the Leopard died. The Mouse said: “I will govern in this country,
for there is not another chief left.” Thus was the Mouse rewarded for
his courage, wit, and perseverance.




                                   X
                    The Gazelle outwits the Leopard


Once upon a time a Leopard and a Gazelle lived together with their wives
and families in the same town. One day the Leopard said: “Friend
Gazelle, let us go and buy some drums in the Zombo country.” “All
right,” replied the Gazelle; “but where is the money?” “I have the money
by me,” answered the Leopard.

They started, and when they had walked a little way the Leopard growled
out: “Wait here. I must return to the town, as I have forgotten
something.” The Leopard returned to the town and went to the Gazelle’s
wife and said: “My friend has sent me for his children.” Mrs. Gazelle
gave them to him, and putting them into a bag, he returned to the place
where he left the Gazelle. They started again, and when they had
travelled a long distance the Leopard saw some honey in a hole in one of
the trees, whereupon he said to the Gazelle: “Wait for me here while I
go to eat the honey, but you must not undo the sack.”

The Gazelle was left to guard the sack, which he untied, and looking in,
he exclaimed: “Why, they are my children!” He put the sack on his back
and hurried to the town, gave his children back to his wife, and went to
the Leopard’s house and said: “My friend has sent me for his children.”
Mrs. Leopard gave them to him. He put them in the sack and returned
quickly to the spot where the Leopard had left him. After a time the
Leopard arrived, licking the honey off his lips, and, picking up the
bag, away they went again on their journey. By and by they reached Zombo
and bought some drums, and when the Leopard paid the money for them, he
whispered: “Don’t undo the bag now, there are some gazelles in it.”

As they were returning home they tried the drums. The Leopard beat a
tune and sang: “The stupid people go on foolish journeys.” For the
Leopard thought the Gazelle had helped to sell his own children for
drums. The Gazelle then beat a tune and sang: “At the place where they
ate honey they left their bag of wisdom.” The Leopard did not know he
had exchanged his own children for drums.

On their way home they played and sang in many towns, and received goats
and pigs as presents for their entertainment. On reaching their town the
Gazelle hurried to his house, and sent off his wife and children to
hide.

The Leopard went to his house, and, looking round, he asked his wife:
“Where are my children?” “Why, you sent the Gazelle for them,” she
replied; "and now you ask: ‘Where are the children?’" The Leopard went
in great rage to the Gazelle’s house, but the Gazelle ran away, and as
he was escaping, he cried out: “I am the wise Gazelle who has outwitted
your craftiness.”




                                   XI
       The Gazelle punishes the Palm-rat for breaking his promise


One day a Gazelle, being very hungry, went in search of food, and saw a
fine bunch of palm-nuts hanging from a palm-tree; but having only hoofs
he could not climb the tree. He therefore went in search of his friend
the Palm-rat, and said to him: “I know where there is a fine bunch of
palm-nuts, and if you will promise to give me some I will show you where
it is.”

The Palm-rat readily promised to share the nuts. So together they went
to the forest, and the Gazelle pointed out the nuts to his friend. With
his strong, sharp claws the Palm-rat quickly mounted the palm-tree, and
found there three bunches of palm-nuts; but instead of cutting them
down, he sat on a palm-frond and began to eat them.

After a time the Gazelle shouted out: “Friend Palm-rat, throw me down
some of the nuts according to your promise.”

“Oh,” cried the Palm-rat, “when I am eating I am deaf, and cannot hear
what is said to me.” And he continued to munch away at the nuts.

The Gazelle waited a little, and again called out: “Please throw me some
of the palm-nuts, for I have hoofs, and cannot climb a tree like you.”
But the Palm-rat ate greedily on, and took no notice of his friend’s
request, except to say that he was deaf when eating.

The Gazelle thereupon gathered some leaves, grass, twigs, and stubble,
and made a large fire at the bottom of the palm-tree. In a short time
the Palm-rat called out: “Uncle Gazelle, put out your fire, the heat and
smoke are choking me.”

“Oh,” replied the Gazelle, “when I am warming myself by the fire I
cannot hear what is said to me.” And he heaped more firewood and dried
grass on the fire.

The Palm-rat, choking with the smoke, lost his grip on the tree, and
fell to the ground dead. The Gazelle returned to the town and took
possession of all the goods belonging to the Palm-rat. If you make a
promise, keep it; and if you want a kindness shown to you, you must do
kind things to others.




                                  XII
                   How the Crow cheated the Dove and
                     got into Difficulty through it


A long time ago the Crow and the Dove arranged to go hunting together.
They took with them their guns, charms, dogs, and chief huntsman. The
dogs entered the bush and started an animal which the Dove fired at and
killed. Then up ran the Crow shouting: “It is mine, it is mine.”

“No,” said the Dove; “I killed it.”

“It is mine,” asserted the Crow, and although they tried to argue with
him, he would not listen, but only shouted more loudly: “It is mine.”

At last the Dove gave way, and thus it was every time they went
hunting--the Crow always cheated the Dove out of his game by his loud
blustering cry: “It is mine. It is mine.”

One day, while hunting, the Dove accidentally shot the chief huntsman,
and no sooner did the Crow hear the report of the gun than he came
running and calling out: “It is mine, it is mine. I shot it,” but on
drawing near and seeing the body of the huntsman, he said to the Dove:
“It is yours.”

“No,” replied the Dove; "you have said ‘It is mine’ every time I have
killed game, and now this is yours also." They talked long and loudly
about the matter, and at last they laid the case before the elders in
the town.

The elders said to the Crow: “Yes, it is yours. You have claimed
everything before, now take this also, and bury the body properly, and
pay all the expenses of the funeral.” There are many people like the
Crow, who take all the credit to themselves, and leave the blame to
others.

XIII

How the Civet and the Tortoise lost their Friendship for each other

The Tortoise and the Civet, although they lived in separate towns, had a
great friendship for each other. Their kindness to one another was known
to all the neighbours, for they never refused to help one another in
sickness and trouble.

One day the Civet heard that her friend the Tortoise had given birth to
a child, so at once she got ready to pay the usual visit. On arriving at
the cross-road leading to her friend’s town, she met a Monkey, who asked
her where she was going.

The Civet said: “I am going to visit my friend the Tortoise, who has
given birth to a child.”

Monkey said: "Don’t you go. Her child is very ill, and the “medicine
man” says that he must have the tip of your tail with which to make a
charm to cure the child, and it won’t be better until he has it. Of
course, if you go it is your own affair."

When the Civet heard this she became very angry at the insult, and
returned at once to her own house. The Tortoise was very indignant at
the neglect of her friend the Civet, because from the commencement of
her illness she never received a visit from her. For a very long time
they never visited each other.

By and by the Tortoise heard that her friend the Civet had given birth
to a child. The Tortoise said: “Although the Civet never visited me, I
will not treat her in the same way, for I will go to see her.”

She started on her journey, and on reaching the cross-roads she met
Monkey there, who asked her where she was going. On hearing she was on
the way to visit the Civet, Monkey said: "You are truly very stupid. The
Civet’s baby is very ill, and she has sent for the “medicine man,” who
says he cannot possibly cure the child unless he has the shell of the
Tortoise for a charm."

On hearing this the Tortoise was dumbfounded and filled with fear, so
she returned home at once.

After a very long time the Civet and the Tortoise met at the funeral
festivities of a friend, and they frowned at each other and would not
speak. Towards the close of the festivities, the Civet and the Tortoise
told the chief and the elders all about their former love for one
another, and how the friendship had been broken by each hearing what the
other wanted as a charm to cure her child.

The elders restored the love they had for each other, and told the Civet
and the Tortoise that in future they were not to listen to any tales,
but if one did hear anything against the other she was to go and ask her
friend about it, and not keep it in her heart. From that time they
remained fast and true friends.

XIV

The Water-Fairies save a Child

Pedro was a trader in birds, and travelled long distances to buy and
sell them, and as he often had some left he carried them home to keep
until next market day. Pedro had six children, one of whom was a boy
named Yakob, and the others were all girls. When Pedro was leaving the
town one day for a trading journey to a very distant market, he said to
his people: “There are some birds in that house, and if any one lets
them out and loses them I will kill him.”

Soon after his father was gone Yakob thought he would like to look at
the birds, so went and pushed open the door to peep in, and as he did so
the birds flew out and escaped to the forest. Yakob went crying to his
mother, and told her what he had done. His mother chided him for
disobeying his father’s orders.

By and by Pedro returned from his journey, and, going to the house where
he had left his birds, he found they were gone. He was very angry, and
wanted to know who had let his birds out of the house, and on being told
it was Yakob, he took the boy, killed him, and threw his body in the
river. Some Water-fairies found the body and restored it to life, and
nursed the boy, fed him, and kept him with them until he grew to be a
young man.

One day the Water-fairies said to him: “Yakob, you had better go for a
walk and see the country.” So he took his _biti_[71] and went walking
and playing his instrument. He met his sisters, and began to sing: “That
which the father had cut and thought he had killed, stand out of the
way, girls, and let him pass.” But the sisters did not recognize
him--they simply smiled at him for his song. He told them who he was,
and they returned to their town and told their mother and father that
they had seen and spoken with their brother, but their father said: “Oh,
no, it was not your brother, it was only a passer by.”

Footnote 71:

  Musical instrument like a _marimba_.

Yakob went back to his fairy mothers, and told them that he had seen his
sisters, and then he gathered his things together and asked permission
to return to his own people. They gave him some fine cloths to wear, and
various bells, which they tied on him, so that when he walked the bells
tinkled and made a pleasant sound; then they gave him a cane, and said:
“When you reach the stream you hit that place and the other place.”
Yakob said: “I thank you with all my heart.” So, bidding them good-bye,
he started for his town with only three servants.

When Yakob reached the stream he did as he was told, and on beating one
place, out came a band of trumpeters with ivory and brass trumpets. He
hit the other place, and out came a fine hammock and carriers. He got
into the hammock and sent messengers to tell the chief that he was
approaching.

The chief spread his carpet and sat in his chair amid the clapping of
his people, and in a short time the sound of the trumpet was heard and
the carriers trotted up with Yakob’s hammock, spread his carpet and
arranged his chair, and then Yakob alighted from his hammock and sat
down amid the shouting, drumming, and clapping of the people.

On taking his seat, Yakob said: "I am your son whom you killed. What you
threw away the Water-fairies picked up, and they have nursed me and kept
me until this day. There is a proverb which says: ‘If the Leopard gives
birth to a palm-rat he does not eat it.’ You should have punished me for
breaking your law, but you should not have killed me." The father was
astonished, and went and kneeled crying before his son, and said: “My
child, forgive me, for I have done wrong.”

Yakob’s mother was glad to see her son again; he dressed her in fine
cloth, and built his own village close by his parents’.

XV

How the Squirrel repaid a Kindness

There was once a man named Tunga who had a house, a wife, and a nice
little baby. Tunga used to catch partridges, guinea-fowls, palm-rats and
squirrels in his traps, and sometime he would trap three and four of
these at once. One day he caught as many as fifteen partridges, and when
he took them home his wife said: “We will save some of these for another
day, so that our child may not be hungry should you not catch any.” But
Tunga said: “No, we will eat them all now, for I am sure to catch plenty
of meat every day.”

Some time after Tunga went to look at his traps, and found only one
Squirrel in them, and this Squirrel had some bells round its neck, and
just as Tunga was going to kill it, the Squirrel said: “Oh, please don’t
kill me, and I will help you another day.”

Tunga laughed and said: “How can a little thing like you help me?”

But the Squirrel pleaded for his life and promised to help the man
whenever he was in trouble, so at last Tunga let the Squirrel go. He
then plucked some leaves and went home to his wife and told her what he
had done. She was very angry, and quarrelled so much about there being
no food for the baby to eat, that she picked up the child and went off
to her own family, which lived in a distant town.

The man waited some days until he thought his wife’s anger had passed
away, and then he took a large calabash of palm-wine and started for his
wife’s town. On arriving at the cross roads Tunga met an Imp that had
neither arms, legs, nor body, but was all head, like a ball. The Imp
said: “Let me carry your calabash for you. You are a great man and
should not carry it yourself.”

“How can you carry it, when you are all head and no body?” asked Tunga.

“Oh, you will see,” said the Imp, as he took the calabash, balanced it
on his head, and went bounding off along the road in front of Tunga.

After travelling a long way Tunga became very tired, so they sat down
under a tree to rest, and while they were sitting there a Leopard came
up, and noticing the palm-wine, asked for a drink, and the man was too
much afraid to refuse it. When Tunga was going to pour out some of the
palm-wine into a glass, the Leopard said: “I drink out of my own mug,
not yours,” and he brought out of his bag the skull of a man, and said:
“Here is a mug. I have already eaten nine men and you will be the
tenth.”

Poor Tunga was so filled with fear that he did not know what to do; but
by and by a Squirrel arrived, and after exchanging greetings he asked
for some of the palm-wine, and as Tunga was going to pour it out the
Squirrel said: “What! Have you no respect for me? I carry my own mug,”
and putting his hand into his bag, he brought out the head of a Leopard,
and said: “There, I have eaten nine Leopards, and this one here will be
the tenth,” and as he repeated the words again and again very fiercely
the Leopard began to tremble, and go backwards until he was in the road,
and then he turned tail and fled with the Squirrel after him.

Tunga waited, and at last he and the Imp started again on their journey.
He was now glad that he had been kind to the Squirrel and had saved his
life.

On reaching the town, Tunga and the Imp were welcomed by the people, a
good house was given to them, and they were well feasted. After resting
there some days, Tunga and his wife started on their return journey
home, but before leaving the town Mrs. Tunga’s family gave them a goat
as a parting present.

When they reached the cross-roads Tunga said to the Imp: “I will kill
the goat here, and give you your half.”

“All right,” said the Imp; “but you must also give me half of the
woman.”

“No,” replied Tunga; “the woman is my wife, but you shall have half the
goat.”

The Imp became very angry and called to his friends, and a great crowd
of Imps came to fight Tunga.

While they were wrangling, the Squirrel arrived and asked what was the
cause of the row. They told him, and he said: “If we divide the goat and
the woman, how are you going to cook them? You have neither firewood nor
water. Some of you fetch water, and others go for firewood.”

He opened his box and gave to some of them a calabash in which to fetch
water, but while the water was running into the calabash it sung such a
magic tune that the Imps began to dance, and could not stop dancing.

Then the Squirrel opened his box again and let loose a swarm of bees
that stung the other Imps so badly that they all bounded away and never
returned again to trouble Tunga. Then the Squirrel said to Tunga: “You
now see that if you had not been merciful to me I should not have been
able to save you from the Leopard and the Imps. Your kindness to me has
saved your own life and your wife’s.” Tunga thanked him for his help and
went his way home.

XVI

The Kingfisher deceives the Owl

One day the Owl and the Kingfisher had a long discussion as to which of
them could go longest without food. The Owl proposed that they should
try for ten days, and the Kingfisher agreed to it.

They tied a rope across a stream, and both birds sat on the middle of it
looking down into the water. On the third day the Kingfisher began to
feel hungry, and observing a fish in the water just below him, he
pretended to fall, caught and gobbled the fish, but as he came up to the
surface of the water he cried out: “Oh, Uncle Owl, my head turned giddy,
and I fell into the stream.”

The Owl replied: “Never mind, let us persevere with our contest.”

But the Kingfisher continued to have these giddy fits just as fish came
under the perch, and the Owl with his sleepy eyes did not notice the
fish. Before many days had passed the Owl’s body became thin, he lost
his strength, fell into the stream and was drowned; but as for the
Kingfisher he flew away, leaving his dead and cheated rival in the
water.

XVII

How the Tortoise was punished for his Deceit

The Tortoise set his trap, and soon afterwards caught an antelope in it,
whereupon he sat down and began to cry with a loud voice. The Jackal,
hearing his cries, came and asked him what was the matter, and the
Tortoise said: “There is an animal killed in my trap, and I have no one
to take it out.”

The Jackal said: “Never mind, I’ll remove it for you.” So he took out
the animal and set the trap again.

The Tortoise said to him: “Go and get some leaves upon which we can cut
up the meat.” But while the Jackal went for the leaves the Tortoise ran
away with the meat to his hole in the rock.

The Jackal, on his return, called out: “Uncle Tortoise, here are the
leaves;” but the Tortoise rudely cut him short by asking him: “Am I a
relative on your mother’s side or your father’s?”

The Jackal, angry at this insult, cried out: “I will let off your trap;”
and the Tortoise replied: “Touch the spring with your head, for if you
put in either your arm or your leg you will die.”

So the stupid Jackal put his head into the trap and was caught, and when
he cried out with pain the Tortoise took his gun and shot him. In this
way the Civet-cat, the Fox, the rock Rabbit, and the Palm-rat were all
caught and killed by the Tortoise.

One day the Gazelle heard the Tortoise crying, and went and asked him
why he was crying, and the Tortoise said: “Since early morning an animal
has been lying dead in my trap because I have no one to take it out for
me.”

“But who set your trap for you?” asked the Gazelle.

He replied: “A passer-by set it for me.”

“All right,” kindly said the Gazelle, “I’ll take it out for you”; which
he did at once, and setting the trap again he dragged the animal to the
Tortoise.

“Get some plantain leaves that we may divide the meat,” said the
Tortoise; but while he was gone the Tortoise took all the meat to his
hole.

The Gazelle, on returning, called out: “Uncle Tortoise, here are the
leaves,” but the Tortoise laughingly asked him: “Is the Tortoise a
relative on your mother’s side, or your father’s?”

The Gazelle was angry at this insult, and said: “I’ll unset your trap.”

“Very well,” shouted the Tortoise, “only do it with your head, and not
with your hands or your feet, or you will die.”

The Gazelle, however, poked in a stick, and snap went the spring, and
out loudly screamed the Gazelle, so the Tortoise thought he was caught,
and came out of his hole with his gun to shoot him, but the Gazelle
sprang on the Tortoise, took away his gun and killed him, and then,
gathering up the meat, he went off to his own town. The Biter is
eventually bit, and he who deceives others will himself be deceived.

XVIII

How the Frog collected his Debt from the Hawk

The Hawk lived in sky-land and the Frog lived on the earth. One day the
Hawk paid a visit to the Frog, and said to him: “Friend Frog, will you
kindly lend me a thousand brass rods, for I am in difficulty for want of
money?”

The Frog replied: “Your town is up in the sky, and I cannot fly up there
for I have neither feathers nor wings.”

“Oh, you will not need to call for your money, for I will surely bring
it to you down here, so please lend me the brass rods.” The Frog counted
out the thousand rods and handed them to the Hawk.

For six months the Frog heard nothing from the Hawk, neither was any
part of the debt paid, so one day, seeing the Hawk on a low branch he
went to ask for his money, but the Hawk flew away as fast as his wings
would carry him.

Then the Frog heard that the Hawk went every _Nkandu_[72] and
_Nkenge_[72] to market to buy saucepans, so on the following _Nkandu_
the Frog

Footnote 72:

  Names of market days.

started at dawn for the market-place. He hopped and jumped over the
ground and swam the rivers, and, reaching the market early, he hid
himself and waited for the arrival of the Hawk.

In a little time the Hawk alighted on the market, and, putting down his
satchel, he went about buying saucepans. When he had bought a few the
Frog went and hid himself in one of them, and by and by the Hawk,
returning to his town in sky-land, picked up his saucepans, and thus
took the Frog with him.

The Hawk, on arriving home, put his saucepans in the corner of his
house, and when all was quiet and dark the Frog came out of his
hiding-place, and next morning met the Hawk in a casual way and asked
him for his money. The Hawk was so surprised that at first he could not
say a word, but at last he exclaimed: “Friend Frog, how did you get
here, for you have neither feathers nor wings?”

“Never mind how I came,” replied the Frog; “but I want my money.”

The Hawk began to make excuses, and was so sorry because “he really had
not the money just then.”

But the Frog said: “Very well, I shall stay here in your house until you
pay me.”

Then the Hawk remembered that he had just enough to pay him, because he
wanted to get the Frog out of his house.[73]

The Frog, on receiving his money, wondered how he was to return to
earth. He decided to wait until next market-day, and then, creeping into
the Hawk’s satchel, was carried off to the market-place, and on arrival
he hopped out of the satchel and took a walk round the market, and thus
came face to face with the Hawk: “How did you get here?” asked the Hawk
in surprise.

The Frog blinked at him, and said: “Well, I came by the road by which I
travelled.”

“Did you now?” said the Hawk; and then he went on to say: “I borrowed
money of you because, having no feathers and no wings, I thought you
would not worry me for payment, yet you have followed and bothered me,
and I will never borrow of you again.”

The Hawk ruffled his feathers and went, and as the Frog jumped off, he
muttered: “I will never again lend to folk bigger than myself, for if
you ask them for the money they are angry with you, and if you don’t ask
for it they think you silly and laugh at you.”

Footnote 73:

  The creditor would live at the expense of the debtor, hence the Hawk’s
  desire to get rid of the Frog.

XIX

How a Child saved his Mother’s Life

A man, once upon a time, cleared a large piece of bush, and then sent
his wife to plant it with cassava. When the cassava was ready to pull,
the bush-pigs and other animals visited the farm and destroyed the
roots, and it seemed as though the woman would have her trouble for
nothing. The wife complained about it to her husband, and he went to dig
a large pit in which to trap the wild animals that came stealing in
their farm.

While the man was digging the hole an Imp came out of the forest near by
and asked him what he was doing. Upon hearing he was digging a trap for
animals, the Imp said: “Let me help you.” The man, fearing the Imp would
kill him if he refused, accepted his offer. Thereupon the Imp said: “Let
us make a bargain. All the male animals that fall into the trap are
yours, but all the female ones are mine.” The man agreed to this, and
they then finished the hole together, after which they returned to their
places.

Next morning they went to look at the hole and found one male pig in it,
which the man took according to their agreement. Every morning they went
and it was the same--male pigs, antelopes and buffaloes were in the
trap, never any female ones, sometimes there were two males and
sometimes there were five males. The man laughed, and said to the Imp:
“You were foolish to make such a bargain, for did you not know that only
male animals go about in search of food? You are very foolish.”

The man took the animals to his town, and all the way home he was
ridiculing the stupid Imp. The wife said: “Now we have plenty of meat,
but no cassava bread to eat with it. Tomorrow I will go and dig up some
roots in the farm with which to make some bread.”

Early next morning the woman took her basket and her hoe, and went to
the farm, leaving her husband at home to look after their little boy.
When the woman had been gone some time the boy began to cry, so the man
picked him up and followed his wife to the farm to give the child to
her. As he drew near the farm he heard the Imp gleefully singing: “O my,
O my, at last I have a female animal in the trap.”

On reaching the trap the man asked the Imp why he was jumping, dancing
and singing in that joyful fashion, and when he heard that it was
because there was one female animal in the trap, the man laughed at the
Imp for making so much fuss over _one_ animal; but looking into the pit,
and seeing his wife there he began to cry, and contended that the Imp
was cheating him as a woman was not an animal.

They became very angry in their discussion as to whether the woman was
an animal or not, that at last the boy said: “Father, you agreed to the
bargain that you were to have all the male animals, and he was to have
all the female ones that fell into the trap; we have had plenty of
animals out of the hole, but he has not had a single one. Let him take
this one.”

The Imp, admiringly, said: “Is this wise judge only a boy?” and with
that he jumped into the trap to get out his prize, but no sooner had he
done so than the boy called out: “Look, father, there is a male animal
in the trap and it is yours.”

On dropping down into the trap the Imp had become, according to his own
statement, an animal, and consequently belonged to the man. The Imp, to
save himself, had to give up all claim to the woman, and thus the child
by his smartness saved his mother’s life. Never again did the man enter
into an agreement until he properly understood all about the conditions.

XX

How the Gazelle won his Wife

Once upon a time there was a Gazelle that went in search of a wife.
While journeying he met a beautiful girl, and stopped, and said to her:
“Miss So-and-so, have you any water?--if so, please give me a drink, for
I am very thirsty.”

The girl replied: “Yes, sir,” and taking a calabash well ornamented with
rows of brass nails she gave it to him full of water. He drank eagerly,
and as he handed the calabash back, he said: “The water is as nice to
drink as the girl is beautiful.”

The Gazelle inquired of her, and finding she was not married, asked her:
“Will you marry me?”

She answered: “I don’t know, I must ask my mother.”

So together they went to seek the mother’s consent. When she heard all
about the affair, she said: “If you want to marry my daughter you must
first bring me the dried flesh of every animal and bird in the forest.”

The Gazelle was at first disconcerted by such a difficult task, but
said: “All right, I will do it,” and went his way to think out a plan by
which he could win his wife.

The Gazelle thought of first one way and then another, and at last he
sought for and found a shell and filled it with various powerful
“medicines,” and thus, having made a strong fetish, he started for the
forest.

He had not walked very far before a Dove came to him, and said: “Behold,
there are ten animals down there; I fired at them, but did not kill a
single one; if therefore you have a hunting-fetish, teach me how to use
it.”

“Yes, I have the kind of fetish you want,” replied the Gazelle; “but
before you can learn how to use it you must be killed, roasted and
dried, and then I will restore you to life and teach you how to use the
fetish.”

“Very well,” said the Dove, “I am ready to be roasted.” So the Gazelle
killed, roasted and dried the silly Dove and took the flesh to his
store-room, as the first part of the dried meat he had to give to his
future mother-in-law.

Soon after returning to the forest an Antelope came running up to him,
and said: “We hear you have a strong fetish to help hunters to kill
animals. Teach me how to use it, for I have had no success in hunting
for a long time.”

“Well, I have such a fetish,” answered the Gazelle; “but before you can
learn about it I must kill, roast and dry you. Then I bring you to life
again and teach you the use of the fetish.”

“Do with me whatever you like,” said the Antelope, “so long as I get a
fetish with which to kill plenty game.”

The Gazelle drew his knife and told the Antelope to lie down on the
ground.

“What are you going to do with that knife?” cried the Antelope.

“How can you be roasted and dried unless you are first killed?” quietly
asked the Gazelle. So the Antelope stretched himself out, and was soon
killed, dried and carried to the store.

“Well,” ruminated the Gazelle, “I have found a way to win my wife, for
these animals will believe any foolish thing so as to possess power to
kill others. I must now try a big beast.”

Again he went to the forest, but he had not gone very far into it before
he met a Buffalo running. “Where are you going?” asked the Gazelle.

“I am off to look after my farm, for I have no luck in hunting,” replied
the Buffalo.

“I have a strong hunting-fetish,” said the Gazelle; “but before you can
use it I must cut out your heart, and roast and dry you; after that I
call you back to life and teach you my fetish, which will give you
plenty of hunting skill.”

“All right,” said the Buffalo; “but I am a big person and your knife
will not enter my body.” With that he fell on the ground, but directly
the Gazelle had thrust his knife into the body the Buffalo cried out:
“Please stop! do stop!” but the Gazelle said: “Just wait a moment only,”
and he pushed in the knife, and the Buffalo died. In a very short time
the Buffalo’s flesh was roasted, dried and carried to the store.

In this way the Gazelle caught and roasted the Lion, the Leopard, the
Elephant and all the other animals and birds of the forest. By and by he
carried all the dried meat to the mother of the beautiful girl, and said
to her: “My respected mother-in-law, do not be angry because I have been
a long time doing the task you set me. You know all about hunting, and
that it is very slow and laborious work. Sometimes one shoots and does
not kill; however, here is the meat for which you sent me.” The old
woman answered: “I thank you, and now you can take your wife and go your
way.”

XXI

The Gazelle is at last Punished

The Leopard and the Gazelle made a large farm together, and planted
maize, sugarcane, cassava and various other things. To celebrate the
finishing of their big farm they desired to make a feast. The Leopard
wished to buy a goat, but the Gazelle said: “A goat is not big enough,
let us buy a pig.” A large pig was bought, and when it was cooked the
Gazelle said: “Friend Leopard, let us go and bathe first in the river,
and then return to eat our feast slowly and enjoy it.” To this the
Leopard agreed.

When they reached the river’s bank each wanted the other to dive in
first, but at last the Leopard jumped into the water and quickly came
out again.

“You don’t know how to dive,” laughed the Gazelle.

“Very well,” replied the Leopard, “you dive now and show me the way.”

The Gazelle dived into the water, ran along the bottom of the river,
came out near the town, and went quickly and ate up all the boiled pig;
and then, returning to the river, came puffing and blowing out of the
water at the feet of his friend the Leopard. “There,” said the Gazelle,
“that is the way to dive.”

Then they returned together to the town, but when they reached the
Leopard’s house they found the saucepan empty. The Leopard felt very
much ashamed, because the food had been left in his house. He began to
beat his wife for not looking properly after it. Then, turning to the
Gazelle, he said: “Uncle Gazelle, I am very much ashamed because the
cooked meat has been eaten in my house; let us now buy a goat.”

But the Gazelle said: “You must pay for the goat yourself, for the pig
was eaten in your house.”

The Leopard took one of his own goats, and when it was cooked, he said:
“This time let us eat first and bathe afterwards.” But the Gazelle
objected, and would bathe before eating, so the Leopard agreed, and they
went together to the river. The Gazelle played the same trick on the
Leopard, and this he did several times, and each time poor Mrs. Leopard
received a thrashing, and the Leopard killed another goat.

By and by the Leopard bought a fetish called _nkondi_, and hid it in his
house. When the Gazelle arrived next time he found the door fastened,
and on trying to open it the _nkondi_ said: “Oh, you are the rascal who
comes to eat my master’s goat, you thief, get away quickly.”

The Gazelle shouted: “Come out and I’ll hit you.”

The _nkondi_ began to abuse him, saying: “Come into the house, if you
can, you thin-legged one.”

The Gazelle became so angry that he broke open the door, and hit the
_nkondi_ and his hand stuck; he hit him again, and the other hand stuck;
he then kicked him and both his legs stuck fast, and he thereupon butted
him with his head and that also stuck.

The Leopard waited a long time for the Gazelle, and then, thinking he
was drowned, he returned to the town. On drawing near to the house he
heard a great noise, and as he ran he shouted out: “Hold the thief
tightly until I come.”

What was his surprise to find the Gazelle held fast by the _nkondi_.
“Oh, you are the thief, no wonder you wanted to bathe first!” said the
Leopard, as he hit him.

“Unfasten me, Uncle Leopard,” begged the Gazelle.

“No, I am going to eat first and undo you afterwards,” laughed the
Leopard. So he sat down and ate and chuckled, and chuckled and ate,
until all the goat was finished; then he unstuck the Gazelle, and gave
him a good sound thrashing for the tricks he had played on him, and let
him go covered with aches, pains and bruises.

XXII

The Leopard pays Homage to the Goat

The natives say that there was a time when the Leopard paid homage to
the Goat because of his beard and horns, but he discovered the Goat’s
weakness in the following manner--

One day, while the Leopard was cutting a palm-tree for wine, a
Billy-goat arrived at the wine-booth and bleated loudly: “Be--e,
Leopard!”

The Leopard listened, and said, “What great chief is that calling me?”

“Be--e, Leopard,” again cried the Goat.

“Yes, sir,” answered the Leopard, and descending the palm-tree he went
softly and meekly to his wine-booth and found a person there with a long
beard and large horns.

“Pour me out some wine,” said the Goat. This the Leopard did at once.
Pouring the wine into a glass, he knelt and offered it to the Goat, who
drank it off glass after glass as the Leopard crouched in a humble
position before him. This happened several days running--the Goat
ordering the palm-wine and the Leopard offering it on his knees as to a
great chief.

One day, while the Leopard was paying homage in this way to the Goat, a
Gazelle arrived and stared in surprise at what he saw, and after the
Goat had gone, he said to the Leopard: “Uncle Leopard, do you know who
that is?”

“No,” replied the Leopard; “I do not know in the least who it is, but he
has a long beard and big horns.”

“Oh! oh!” laughed the Gazelle; “that is foolish. Do you not see that you
are paying homage to empty size? He has no strong teeth for biting hard
things and for fighting. If you do not believe me, try him to-morrow.”

Next day the Goat came as usual, and demanded his palm-wine. He found
the Leopard and the Gazelle already there in the booth. The Gazelle took
from his bag a kola nut, and, breaking it, he gave one section to the
Goat, another to the Leopard, and took one himself. The Leopard crunched
his section at once with his powerful teeth, and the Gazelle bit his
part to pieces, but the poor Goat, having no strong teeth, turned his
section of the nut over and over in his mouth, first one side and then
the other.

The Gazelle made a sign with his lips to the Leopard, as much as to say:
“Do you see, he has no teeth. I told you so.” The Leopard thereupon
jumped on the Goat and killed him without a struggle, and from that time
the Leopard has never again been afraid of the Goat’s long beard and big
horns. A beard and horns do not make a strong animal, but a powerful
mouth is necessary. Pomposity without real authority will not be
respected for very long.

XXIII

Why the Owls and the Fowls never speak to each other

A Fowl and an Owl became friends, but they built their houses at some
distance from each other. One day the Owl heard that his friend was very
sick, so he gathered some money together and went to pay a visit to the
Fowl. When he arrived he inquired after the health of his friend, and
finding he was still very ill he sent for a “medicine man,” and in due
time his friend the Fowl recovered, and the Owl returned to his town.

By and by the Owl fell ill with a very bad illness, and the news reached
the Fowl that his friend was on the point of death. He gathered some
money and went to visit his friend and give him the best advice about
getting better. He said to the wives of the Owl: “Get ready some very
hot water, and pound up some red peppers.”

The wives did as they were told, and then the Fowl said to the Owl:
“Take off your clothes and get into the saucepan.”

“Won’t it burn me?” asked the Owl.

“No, my friend, it will not hurt you,” deceivingly replied the Fowl.

So he did as his friend bade him, and put himself carefully into the
saucepan of hot water. In a short time the Fowl said to the Owl’s wives:
“Take him out, and pluck his feathers, rub him well with the red pepper,
and put him on a line to dry, and be sure and not take him down until he
is thoroughly dry.” Leaving these directions with them, the Fowl went
home. After he had left, the Owl died, and the family was so angry at
the outrage the Fowl had committed that they desired to punish him.

The family sent word to the Fowl that on a certain day the funeral would
take place, and they invited him to attend it. On the appointed day the
Fowl went with his band and his followers, who were the Leopard, the
Lion, the Dog and the Shrew-mole.

Now the Owl’s family had collected some strong followers who were called
the Fox, the Viper, the Boa, the Elephant, the Antelope, and the
Palm-rat, all of whom were friends of the Owl. By and by they heard the
Fowl’s band playing “The tail of the Owl is very powerful.” This insult
to his dead friend made the Owl’s family very angry, so they arranged
their followers in ambush, and told them to be sure and “catch that
rascal the Fowl.”

As the Fowl’s party drew near to the town, out came the Boa from his
hiding-place to catch the Fowl, but the Shrew-mole squeaked, and the Boa
split all down one side and had to retreat; then came the Fox, but the
Dog fought him and made him run away; then came the Elephant, but the
Lion bit his trunk, and he fled; and the Antelope caught sight of the
Leopard’s marks and bolted. The Fowl at last arrived in the town, and
played at the funeral of the Owl “The tail of the Owl is very powerful,”
and after ridiculing his late friend in this manner, he returned home
with his band and followers. The Owls never speak now to the Fowls.

XXIV

How the Elephant punished the Leopard

The Elephant and the Leopard lived in the same town and married their
wives about the same time. By and by the Leopard’s wife gave birth to
two children, and the Elephant’s wife gave birth to one. Some time after
this happened the Elephant had to go on a trading journey into a distant
country, so he left his son in the care of the Leopard.

One day the Leopard, his sons, and the young Elephant all went hunting
in the big bush. The Leopard showed his sons the animals’ tracks, taught
them where to stand and what to do; but as for the Elephant’s son he
took no notice of him, did not instruct him, and left him to do what he
could.

In a little time an antelope started up, and the Leopard’s first son
fired and missed, and the second son fired and also missed. Then the
antelope ran by where the young Elephant happened to be, and he shot it.
Thereupon the Leopard and his sons ran up and claimed the antelope as
theirs, and as the Elephant had no one to take his side he had to give
way. This occurred three times, and then the young Elephant would not
hunt with them any more.

After some months the old Elephant returned from his long trading
expedition, and his son told him all that had happened to him, and how
he had been cheated by his guardian. When the Elephant heard it he was
very angry, and said: “All right, I will punish the Leopard for
defrauding you.” They then dug a large hole in their house, put some
twigs and branches over it, and spread a mat over the whole. Then they
put the saucepans on the fire, and the Elephant bought some palm-wine
and asked the Leopard to come and drink with him, which invitation he at
once accepted.

When the Leopard arrived they told him to sit on the mat, and as he sat
down the mat gave way under him, and he fell into the deep hole
underneath. The Elephant said: “I left my son with you, and instead of
taking care of him you cheated him every time he went hunting with you,”
and he followed his words by pouring the boiling water over the Leopard.
Thus died the Leopard for being false to his trust.

XXV

How the Leopard tried to deceive the Gazelle

Once the Leopard and the Gazelle had a very bad quarrel, and ever since
then the Leopard has been trying to catch and kill the Gazelle, but has
failed in every attempt.

The Leopard, having tried many other ways of entrapping the Gazelle, at
last pretended to be sick. He rubbed some powdered ironstone on his face
and instructed his wives to send messengers for the Palm-rat, the
Mongoose, and all the other animals, and also for the Gazelle. When they
were all gathered except the Gazelle they went in one by one to see the
Leopard, and he killed them; but he thought that he had all the trouble
for nothing as the Gazelle had not arrived, so he asked his wives what
they were to do now to catch the Gazelle. They advised him to send for a
“medicine man,” and then the Gazelle would be sure to think he was
really ill. While they were searching for a “medicine man” the Gazelle
arrived, but he would not enter the house.

The “medicine man” arrived with his charms, and while he made “medicine”
he sang--

/* “O Gazelle, come where the sick one is, It is your own uncle who is
ill.” */

When the Gazelle heard this he answered by a song--

/* “O uncle, come out of the house, Come out into the daylight now.” */

They tried by every means to persuade the Gazelle to enter the house,
but he remained firm, and refused to listen to all their nice talk, and
at last the Leopard, losing all patience, jumped up and rushed out of
the house; but the Gazelle, noticing his anger, sprang away into the
forest and escaped; but as for all the other silly ones who had been
deceived by the Leopard, they were eaten by him.

The invitations and persuasions of enemies are to be received with
caution.

XXVI

The Story of two Young Women

Once there were two girls whose uncle told them: “You are now old enough
to marry, so you may look out for two young men.” Their hearts were glad
when they received this permission, and very soon they found two lovers.
The elder became engaged to a poor man, and the younger to a rich one.

One day the elder girl paid a visit to her betrothed, and as he was poor
he could only give her a common fish to eat and a mat to lie on for a
bed; but when the younger went to see her rich lover he killed a goat
for her supper, gave her a fine bed spread with blankets, and in the
morning killed a pig for her breakfast; and when she was leaving to
return to her home he gave her a shawl, a fine piece of blue and white
cloth, a necklace of beads, and a looking-glass.

The two sisters happened to meet at the crossroads, and they asked each
other what presents they had received, and when the younger girl saw the
poor gift received by the other, she showed her presents with much
vanity, and laughed at her sister for having such a poor lover. This
occurred every time they visited their young men--the younger sister
laughed to scorn the poverty of the elder sister’s suitor.

After due time the day of their marriage arrived, and the rich man told
all his pedigree, gave a great, fat pig for the feast, and sent his
bride a piece of velvet, a piece of white cloth, and a piece of satin;
but the poor man could only send some fowls for the feast and give his
bride one piece of ordinary cloth. After the marriage festivities were
over the new wives went to live in the houses of their husbands.

Before many days had passed the younger bride committed a small fault,
and her husband in his anger cut off her ears. She cried out for help,
but her family could not help her, as they had consented to the
marriage. In a week he was angry about some other small matter, and he
cut off her nose, and the next time she vexed him with some small
mistake he cut off her head. Thus she did not live long to enjoy her
fine things. As for the poor husband, he said to his wife: “It is not
until death comes to me that we shall separate.” Riches do not always
bring with them happiness and contentment.

XXVII

Why the Chameleon cut off his own Head

One day the Frog, on going to work in her farm, left her two children in
the house with plenty of food to eat. She had not been gone very long
when a Chameleon arrived, and took possession of the house and the
children. She dressed them with knives and bells, and made them dance.
The Frog, returning from her work, found the Chameleon in her house, and
when she attempted to enter, the Chameleon threatened to tread her into
a pulp. The Frog went crying to the Elephant, and he, on hearing her
story, promised to get the Chameleon out of the house with his large
trunk, but when he went to the door of the house, the Chameleon snarled
at him, and he turned and fled.

The Frog then went to the Leopard and told him of her trouble, and he
said: “Don’t worry, I will quickly have her out of the house.” But no
sooner did he show himself at the door than the Chameleon snarled at
him, and he ran away. Thus it was with all the animals. They all boasted
of what they would do, but were all afraid to do it.

As the Frog went crying she met a flock of Sparrows, and said to them:
“Friend Sparrows, go and drive the Chameleon out of my house.” The
Sparrows went in front of the Frog’s house, dried their drums at the
fire, and as they began to dance they chanted a chorus: “Sparrows, when
you dance, don’t dance with your heads on.” Some of the Sparrows then
went forward, and having put their heads under their wings, they began
to dance. The Chameleon, looking out of the door, saw this wonderful
sight, and seeing the Sparrows dancing very nicely without any heads,
she thought they had cut them off, and as she was a great dancer,[74]
and wanted to imitate the Sparrows in their marvellous dance, she cut
off her own head, and fell dead. The Frog thanked the Sparrows for their
help, and went into the house to nurse her children. What the big
animals could not do with all their strength the Sparrows did by their
cleverness.

Footnote 74:

  The natives regard the Chameleon as a great dancer, because while
  standing still it has a peculiar movement, something like a native
  dancing.

XXVIII

Why the Congo Robin has a Red Breast

“Kinsidikiti” is a small bird with red round its mouth and red spots on
its breast. The female has no red spots on the breast, and the following
is the legend accounting for the difference--

One day the Robin and his wife found that they had no red-camwood
powder[75] with which to beautify themselves, so the husband made
preparations for a journey to Stanley Pool to buy some redwood from
those who brought it from the Upper Congo towns to sell at the Pool
markets.

He was a long time on the road, but at last reached the place only to
find that all the redwood for making the powder had been sold to others,
who were before him. He tried one trader after another with no success,
for all had sold out, but

Footnote 75:

  The powder is made by grinding two pieces of the camwood together. The
  red paste resulting from the friction is dried, pounded and put into a
  cloth, and after a person has bathed, and rubbed himself (or herself)
  with oil the cloth is dabbed on the body, and the fine dust comes out
  and over the body. The camwood powder is greatly valued as a cosmetic.

one said: “I have none to sell, but I can give you a small piece, enough
for yourself.”

He gave him a small piece, and for safety the Robin put it in his
throat, as he wanted to take it home to his wife. As he travelled
homeward the redwood melted in his mouth and throat, and came out round
his beak and through his chest to his feathers, and ever since then he
has had a red mouth and breast.


                                  XXIX
             The Leopard tries to steal the Gazelle’s Wife


The Leopard had many wives, but his friend the Gazelle had only one, and
the Leopard desired to procure that one, and very often said to himself:
“I must kill the Gazelle and take his wife for myself.” So he sent a
messenger to call the Gazelle, but he was too wise to go, and sent an
excuse, saying: “You tell the Leopard that I am going to market, and
cannot visit him now.”

In a very short time another messenger arrived and said: “Go to the
Leopard, for he is dead.”

“Oh! oh! that is very strange,” replied the Gazelle, “that you who are a
mourner should be travelling about, but perhaps you are going to buy
pigs for the funeral feast?”

Before he had finished speaking another messenger came and said:
“Gazelle, your uncle the Leopard is dead, go and wrap the cloth round
his body.”

“Yes,” answered the Gazelle, “I will come and bind up the body, but
first I will go and buy some pigs for the funeral festivities.”

When the Leopard heard these answers he rushed after the Gazelle that he
might kill him, but on turning a corner in the road the Leopard met a
beautiful girl; but he did not know that it was the Gazelle who had
changed himself into that form. Of her the Leopard inquired: “Did you
see a Gazelle pass this way?”

“Yes, my lord Leopard, I did,” she replied.

The Leopard then said to her: “Would you like to marry me?”

“Yes,” she said, “I would like to marry you, but you have such sharp
teeth and claws.”

“Very well,” replied the Leopard, “cut them all off.”

So she at once cut off all his claws, and pulled out his teeth.

“Will you marry me now?” asked the Leopard.

“I would like to,” repeated the girl, “but for the marks on your chest
and neck.”

“Oh, all right,” he said; “cut them all out.”

And she cut them away, spot after spot, and mark after mark, and the
Leopard died. The Gazelle changed back to his proper form, and as he
went off he said: “The Leopard tried to rob me of my one wife, but he
has lost his life through his covetousness.”


                                  XXX
  The Gazelle kills the Flies and Mosquitoes, and outwits the Leopard


The Leopard, once upon a time, went cutting the palm-tree for wine, and
started a palm-wine booth in a place infested with mosquitoes and biting
flies of various kinds; and he made a law that any one who brushed the
flies and mosquitoes off their bodies while in his booth should at once
be killed.

The Antelope called at the booth one day and asked for a drink of
palm-wine; but no sooner had he begun to drink it than the mosquitoes
and flies so swarmed round him and irritated him with their bites, that
in brushing them off he killed many of them. When the Leopard saw that,
he became very angry, and said: “I made a law that whoever came to drink
in my booth should not brush the flies and mosquitoes away. You have
broken my law, and killed many of my insects, so now you must die,” and
he jumped on the Antelope and killed him. In this way the Leopard killed
many of the animals.

One morning the Gazelle said to himself: “I must visit my Uncle Leopard,
and ask him for a drink of his palm-wine.” So he started for the booth,
and on his arrival the Leopard greeted him, saying: “How do you do,
Uncle Gazelle?”

“I am quite well,” replied the Gazelle.

“Where are you going?” asked the Leopard.

“Oh, I came to have a drink of your palm-wine,” said the Gazelle.

They at once sat down and began to drink together, but very soon the
flies and mosquitoes came about the Gazelle and sorely worried him; but
the Gazelle remembered the Leopard’s law, and wondered how he could
drive the flies away and not break the law of the booth. After thinking
a little while, he told the Leopard about a fight that had taken place a
few days before. He said: “The other day we went to fight, and we were
all wounded, some in the head,” and he rubbed his hands over his head
and face, “some in the arms,” and he brushed his hands down his arms,
“some in the legs,” and he passed his hands down his legs, and so over
the whole of his body until he had either driven the flies and
mosquitoes away, or had killed them; but he said, as he slapped his
sides: “not one of us was killed.”

In a short time he was again covered with mosquitoes and flies, and
again he told the Leopard of the great fight, and as he did so he
brushed off the irritating flies. The Leopard glared at him, and as he
sprang on him he cried in rage: “You are breaking my law and killing my
insects.”

But as the Gazelle darted away he shouted: “Oh no, I was only telling
you where the people were wounded.”

                                  XXXI
                  The Leopard is Badly Tricked by the
                         Gazelle, Rat and Frog


The Leopard owned a fine plum-tree,[76] and the Gazelle, while out
walking one day, discovered it, and, noticing the fruit was ripe, he
threw up a rope which caught on one of the main branches, and was soon
among the plums. He put some in a bag, and as he turned to descend he
saw a Squirrel and her nest on one of the forks of the tree. The
Squirrel observed the Gazelle, and as she was the Leopard’s watchman she
told the Leopard all about the theft.

Footnote 76:

  The tree in the story is the nsafu (_canuniensis_) the fruit of which
  is date shape, but the tree is like a plum in shape, etc.

As the Gazelle was returning home he saw a Palm-rat weaving, and,
throwing a plum at him, it broke the web, whereupon the Palm-rat turned
angrily on the Gazelle; but on receiving some plums and tasting them his
anger passed away, and he asked where he could procure some more. The
Gazelle told him to make a bag without any bottom to it, and in the
morning he was to come directly he heard his whistle.

The next morning, directly he heard the Gazelle’s whistle, the Palm-rat
picked up his bottomless bag and joined the Gazelle. After a short walk
they reached the plum-tree, and the Gazelle said: “Shut your eyes while
I climb.” The Palm-rat obeyed the order, and the Gazelle went to his
rope and climbed the tree.

The Palm-rat asked: “How am I to climb the tree?”

“Oh, knock your head against the tree, and you will soon be up,” replied
the Gazelle.

So the Palm-rat put his claws into the tree and knocked his head against
it (that is why he has a swollen head), and at last reached the
branches.

The Gazelle told him to pull all the green plums, which he stupidly did,
and when he put them in his bag they fell through to the ground. When
the Gazelle had plucked all the ripe plums he wanted, he said to the
Palm-rat: “Look and see if the Squirrel is on that fork of the tree.”

The Palm-rat saw the Squirrel, and while he was looking the Gazelle
threw a plum at her, and she cried out: “Oh, Leopard, come quickly, the
Gazelle is pulling all your plums!”

When the Leopard heard this he came running to the tree, and called out:
“Come down, and I’ll cure you of your sickness.”

“Thank you,” replied the Gazelle; “my mother has every kind of medicine
in her house.”

“Come down,” shouted the Leopard, “and I’ll cure you of the shakes.”

“My mother has a remedy for that complaint,” responded the Gazelle, but
he continued, “I’ll come down, and when you hear a thud you will know I
have alighted on the ground, but when you hear a patter you will know it
is my bag.”

The Gazelle threw his bag, and it fell with a thud, and the Leopard,
thinking it was the Gazelle, rushed out to find only the bag, while the
Gazelle jumped down the other side and got away.

The Palm-rat tried to follow the tricky example of the Gazelle, but not
being clever threw himself down with a thud, and was caught and punished
by the Leopard. The Gazelle played off this trick on several other
animals, who were caught one by one by the Leopard and punished for
stealing his plums.

One day the Gazelle took the Nkumbi[77] with him to rob the plum-tree.
On reaching it he told the Nkumbi to shut his eyes while he climbed the
tree, but the Nkumbi only pretended to do so, and, seeing the means by
which the Gazelle mounted the tree, he followed in the same way by the
hanging rope.

Footnote 77:

  A very large and clever rat.

The Gazelle tied up the bottom of his bag, the Nkumbi did the same; the
Gazelle plucked the ripe plums, so did the Nkumbi. The ’cuteness of the
Nkumbi was equal to the smartness of the Gazelle.

Says the Gazelle: “Let us throw some plums into that nest.” They did so,
and roused the Squirrel, who cried out to the Leopard. The Leopard came
quickly. “Come down here, and I’ll teach you,” he shouted.

“Oh no,” said the Gazelle, “my mother is able to teach me; but if you
hear a thud, you will know it is I, and if a patter, it is my bag.”

Again the Gazelle escaped by this ruse, leaving the Nkumbi in the
plum-tree. The Nkumbi, however, deceived the Leopard by the same trick,
and got safely out of the tree to the ground; but the Leopard chased him
to the mouth of his hole, and then began to dig the Nkumbi out with his
claws, but was not able to do so; and seeing a Frog he said: “You are
very strong, are you not?”

“Oh yes,” replied the Frog; “I am a very strong person.”

“Very well,” said the Leopard; “just watch this hole, and, whatever you
do, you must not let the Nkumbi get out while I go home for a hoe to dig
him out of his run.”

The Leopard went off, and the Frog sat down on his haunches to watch the
hole. By and by the Nkumbi came to the mouth of the hole eating some
peanuts. “Uncle Nkumbi,” said the Frog, “give me some of what you are
eating.”

“Open your eyes wide, and come close,” replied the Nkumbi, and at once
he changed the peanuts in his mouth for some pepper, and when the Frog
came near enough, he blew the chewed pepper right into his eyes. The
Frog fell over with the pain, and then ran straight to a stream to wash
the pepper-juice out of his eyes.

The Nkumbi took the opportunity to escape from his hole into the forest.
When the Frog had washed the pepper out of his eyes he returned to watch
the empty hole, and shortly after the Leopard arrived with the hoe, and
asked the Frog: “Is he still in there?”

“Yes,” answered the Frog, “but I had a lot of trouble with him, and,
being very strong, I was able to put him back into the hole.”

The Leopard began to dig the hole, and the Frog drew off a little way on
the side nearest the stream. “Here is an opening,” said the Frog.

“Stop it up,” growled the Leopard.

The Frog shifted nearer the water. “Here is another outlet,” said the
Frog.

“Stop that up also,” replied the Leopard.

The Frog jumped nearer still to the stream. “Oh, here is another hole,”
he said, and with that he sprang flop into the water, and cried out: “I
watched the hole, but the Nkumbi blew some pepper into my eyes, and
while I was washing it out of them he escaped.”

When the Leopard heard that he was so angry that he tried to block up
the stream so as to catch the Frog, but the Frog was too quick for him,
and as he escaped down-stream he cried out: “Oh, he threw pepper into my
eyes, and ran off into the forest.”

The big Leopard was fooled all round by the little animals--the Gazelle,
Nkumbi, and Frog. From that day the Frog’s eyes have bulged out, and he
is always trying to wash the pepper out of them in the streams and
rivulets.

XXXII

Why the Small-ants live in the Houses

There are many species of ants in Congo, but there are two kinds--the
Small-ant and the Driver-ant--that have most to do with the people; the
former are to be found in the houses, and it is difficult to keep food
free of them, and the latter are the scavengers that scour the country
in search of carrion; their bite is fierce and tenacious, and is dreaded
by all who come into contact with them. The characteristics of the two
species of ants are turned to account in the story.

One day the Driver-ants and the Small-ants were assembled together, and
the former said: “We will govern the country as chiefs.” But the
Small-ants objected to this arrangement, and asserted that they were
quite able to rule the land. The Driver-ants laughed at them for having
no strength, and while they were discussing the matter an Elder came
along and inquired into the matter, and on being told the whole affair,
he said: “You Driver-ants, and you Small-ants, go, and the first who
brings a piece of the skin of a man shall rule over the country.”

The Driver-ants went off and waited at a crossroad, and directly they
saw a person coming they crowded out and bit his legs. When the man felt
the bites he ran off a little way and pulled the Driver-ants off his
legs and killed them, and consequently they were not able to procure a
piece of skin, although many died in the attempt.

The Small-ants went into a person’s house and sat there quietly waiting;
and by and by a man arrived who, while returning from his work, had hit
his foot against a stone and raised the skin. He took a knife from the
wall and sat down and cut off the loose skin, which he threw away. The
watching Ants soon found the piece of skin, and carried it to the place
where they had held the discussion with the Driver-ants, and gave it to
the Elder as a proof of their wisdom and strength. The Elder gave the
decision in their favour, and told them that they were the rulers of the
land. This is the reason why the Small-ants live in houses, while the
Driver-ants have to live in the bush.

XXXIII

The Son who tried to outwit his Father

A son said to his father one day: “I will hide, and you will not be able
to find me.” The father replied: “Hide wherever you like,” and then he
went into his house to rest.

The son saw a three-kernel peanut, and changed himself into one of the
kernels; a fowl coming along picked up the peanut and swallowed it; and
a wild bush-cat caught and ate the fowl; and a dog met, chased, and ate
the bush-cat. After a little time the dog was swallowed by a python,
that, having eaten its meal, went to the river and was snared in a
fish-trap.

The father searched for his son, and, not seeing him, went to look at
his fish-trap. On pulling it to the riverside he found a large python in
it. He opened it and saw a dog inside, in which he found a bush-cat, and
on opening that he discovered a fowl, from which he took the peanut, and
breaking its shell he there revealed his son. The son was so dumbfounded
that he never tried again to outwit his father.

                                 INDEX
                              (TO PART I)

          A

 Alphabet, native learning the, 254
 Attempts by natives to rid themselves of sickness and death, 283, 284
 Attendants on the King, 145

          B

 Bakula takes a fancy to me, 25;
   his character, 25;
   his charms, 35;
   tells good stories, 39;
   questions the visitors, 59;
   strikes at the white man, 65;
   goes with Satu on a visit, 74;
   is cut in a drunken row, 99;
   wound dressed by white teacher, 100;
   belauds the chief, 105;
   shakes hands with the teacher, 107;
   tells his name to his white friend, 111;
   is astonished at the teaching, 112;
   accompanies an embassy, 131;
   goes to see the white man, 133;
   sees the King of Congo, 137;
   learns about the King’s Court, 145;
   sees the station at work, 148;
   afraid to go into school, 152;
   sees a witch-doctor performing, 158;
   attends the white teacher during the Sunday work, 162;
   exposure of a witch-doctor, 166;
   returns to his town, 171;
   begins to lose faith in fetishes, 197;
   charged with stealing, 241;
   repudiates charms and “medicine men,” 241;
   cloth found in his house, 243;
   refuses to bribe the nganga, 246;
   is burnt by the boiling oil, 248;
   runs away to mission station, 250;
   learns the alphabet, 254;
   turned out of a town, 258;
   prays for the people, 259;
   convicted of sin, 260;
   joins the Church, 264;
   returns to his town, 265;
   starts a school, 268;
   school-house destroyed, 272;
   accused of witchcraft, 289;
   is guarded through the night, 290;
   takes the ordeal, 291;
   murdered, 291;
   is buried by Tumbu, 292
 Baobab bark juice rubbed on by witch-doctor, 248
 Baptismal service, 331
 Bartering for native produce, 235
 Betrothal bonds, releasing from, 179;
   customs connected with, 186
 Brass rod, made in factory, 1;
   shipped to Congo, 2;
   travels up river, 6;
   sold for rubber and ivory, 12;
   travels overland, 13;
   Bakula takes a fancy to it, 25;
   Tumbu takes it from Bakula’s corpse, 293;
   Tumbu buries it, 294;
   Mikula discovers and wears it, 295
 Burial, christian, 201
 Bush-burning, 194;
   guarding a town before the bush is burnt, 195;
   laws relating to, 203;
   Dimbula breaks the law, 203

          C

 Candidates for membership, 319, 321, 329
 Charms, sacrifices to, 26, 36, 70;
   various purposes of, 35
 Chief’s house, 22
 Chief dies, 23;
   orgy at funeral of, 24;
   bearers struggle with corpse, 31;
   buried at sunset, 31;
   barbarity of a, 163;
   way of dealing with a, 273
 Christianity a blessing to women, 310
 Christmas festival, 327
 Church accounts, 334, 336;
   membership, not easily admitted to, 319, 321, 329;
   roll, 318, 334, 336
 Collections at services, 299, 309, 312, 316
 Communion services, 298, 300, 338
 Comparisons--old life and new, 297, 301, 310, 316, 317
 Congo River, its width, 7;
   its current, 7, 11;
   fishing in the, 8
 Conservatism of the Congo people, 267
 Conundrums, various, 9, 124, 125
 Corpse, fighting for, 218

D

 Dance called Sala, 103
 Dangers of the road, 229, 231, 317
 Deacons, election of, 332;
   native, 298, 332, 334, 339
 Death, natives attempt to free themselves of, 283, 284
 Deficit wiped out, 334
 Devil’s Cauldron, 11
 Diagnosing by native “doctor,” 275
 Dimbula breaks the rules about bush-burning, 203;
   insults Satu, 204;
   is boastful, 205;
   accepts the bullet, 213;
   sues for peace, 220;
   pays indemnity, 221
 Drums, electrical effect of, 103
 Drunken bouts, 30, 99

F

 Fighting, mode of, 217
 Fines imposed are shared, 226
 Forest town of spirits, 31, 32
 Funeral orgy, 30

          G

 Games, native, “Antelope” game, 76;
   with the drum Sala, 103;
   make-believe games, 114;
   “Biti” and needle, 115;
   with canna seeds, 116;
   hoop, 118;
   mbele (or knife), 119;
   various, 121
 Generosity of native Christians, 316, 334, 336
 Gifts at a funeral, 27
 Gin and rum, 13
 Goat! Goat! or redeeming a slave, 191
 Governing, 223;
   making a new law, 224
 Greetings, 232

          H

 Harvest home! 338
 Harvest thanksgiving, 309, 312
 Houses, 34
 Hunters take blood of Antelope to the great hunter, 207
 Hunting, 194;
   charm for, 197;
   visit to great hunter, 198

          I

 Interpreter to Trader, 235

          J

 Journey begins, my overland, 12

          K

 King of Congo murders his mother, 106
 King of Congo, 131;
   calls the embassy, 134;
   his courtyard, 135;
   his palace, 136;
   is pleased with the presents, 137;
   his name, 137;
   size of, 138;
   goes to dinner with the white man, 139;
   eats a large dinner, 141;
   sees magic lantern, 143;
   his Majesty’s Court, 145;
   told to go to St. Catherine, 167
 Kroo boys, their work on steamer, 3;
   their curious names, 4;
   give white men names, 4, 7;
   boy tries to steal me, 5;
   carries me out of the store, 5

          L

 Law, making a new, 224;
   peculiarity of native laws, 225;
   fines imposed for breaking a law are shared, 226
 Leopard, ceremony after killing a, 176
 Life, petty and mean native, 58

          M

 Markets, 227;
   risks of attending, 229
 Marriage, Christian, 307;
   releasing a niece from, 179;
   sham struggle at, 189;
   money, paying, 182, 187;
   feast at, 189;
   promises, 189
 Martyrs for the cause, 305, 306
 Mavakala, accused of witchcraft, 52;
   denies his guilt, 52;
   reason of the false charge, 53;
   takes the ordeal, 55;
   vomits it, 56;
   other tests forced on him, 56;
   is murdered, 57;
   carcass left on hilltop, 57
 “Medicine man,” makes fetish for white man, 13;
   visited by Satu, 20;
   makes a charm for Satu, 21;
   fails to cure Satu’s brother, 22;
   searches for the witch, 49;
   mode of procedure, 51;
   accuses Mavakala of witchcraft, 52;
   makes a luck fetish, 69;
   rubs out evil spirits, 158;
   exposure of, 166;
   makes a hunting charm, 197;
   makes a war fetish and charms, 214;
   performs peace rites, 221;
   makes trading charm, 251;
   asks Bakula for a bribe, 247;
   is fooled by school-boys, 263;
   models of diagnosing, 275;
   various kinds of, 274, 277, 280, 281
 Mikula finds the brass rod, 275;
   takes services, 297;
   conducts a funeral, 201;
   his marriage, 307;
   receives the gifts, 309;
   talks to an inquirer, 320.
 Mission station, working of, 148;
   buying food, 149;
   best way of bartering for goods, 150;
   school, 151;
   repairing, 153;
   boys’ work in the garden, 154;
   rules on a, 155;
   talk with the boys, 156;
   Saturday’s work, 157;
   Sunday’s work--Sunday school, 159;
   service, 161;
   visit to a town, 162;
   talk with the King, 164;
   employments, 257
 Missionary meeting, native, 335
 Missionary, their talk about, 17;
   is coming, 60;
   driven from the town, 66;
   is defended by Tonzeka, 93-97;
   dresses the wounds, 100;
   converses with Satu and his followers, 107-110;
   native name for, 90;
   visits Bakula, 270
 Mother of Bakula falls ill, 274

          N

 Names given to Kroo boys, 4;
   white men, 4;
   missionaries, 90
 Ndoki, an evil bewitching spirit, 22, 23, 278, 281, 282, 283
 Nkwiya, spirit that can leave a person and travel without the body,
    232, 281

          O

 Omens, kicking the foot, 19, 85;
   snake on the road, 74;
   cutting ordeal bark, 55
 Out-station work, 296;
   Sunday at an, 297;
   Communion at an, 298

          P

 Pawn, redeeming a, 178
 Peace, ceremony of making, 220
 Pictures, native learns to look at, 255
 Plaited-Beard warns my companions against white men, 16;
   angers the people against the coming white man, 60;
   abuses a visitor, 62;
   accompanies Satu, 74;
   kicks his foot and returns to his town, 85;
   is sent on an embassy, 131;
   refuses to meet the white man, 172;
   is not successful in hunting, 208;
   accuses Bakula, 208;
   reinvigorates his charm, 210;
   is made Nenkondo, 224;
   his crockery is broken, 239;
   charges Bakula with stealing, 241;
   submits to the ordeal, 247;
   guards Bakula during the night, 290
 Prohibition of luck-giver, 71
 Proverbs, 33, 39
 Pudding, way to eat, 38

          R

 Redeeming a pawn, 178;
   a slave, 191
 Riddles, various, 9, 124, 125
 Ridge-pole, taking of chief’s, 219
 Road, dangers of the, 229, 231, 316
 Rules of the road, 234

          S

 Sacrifices to charms, 26, 36, 70
 St. Catherine fails to help the King, 167
 Satu knocks his toes, 19;
   bad omen, 20;
   visits “medicine man,” 20;
   arrives just in time to see his dying brother, 22;
   arranges burial of his brother, 23;
   receives the mourners, 26,
     and their gifts, 27;
   stops a serious quarrel, 63;
   orders a luck fetish, 69;
   goes to visit a chief, 73;
   his toilet and dress, 86;
   visits the white man, 106;
   a long talk, 107-110;
   afraid of witchcraft, 111;
   a title falls to him, 131;
   sends embassy to King, 131;
   receives his title, 173;
   redeems his brother, 178;
   releases his niece from a hateful marriage, 179;
   his quarrel with Dimbula, 203;
   demands an apology, 205;
   goes to war, 212;
   accused of bewitching a slave, 219;
   helps Bakula, 242
 Selfishness, heathen, 317
 Sickness, attempt to clear country of, 283, 284
 Smoking a chief, 273
 Superstitions about white men:
   buying bodies, 16;
   get cloth from the sea, 17;
   wickedness of white teachers, 17, 18;
   a luck-fowl dies, 271

          T

 Teachers, need for native, 300;
   teaching, 303
 Title falls to Satu, 131;
   ceremony of giving the, 174
 Titles of King’s attendants, 145
 Toilet before meals, 28;
   before entering a town, 86
 Tolls for bridges, 234
 Tonzeka receives Satu, 87;
   gives him good entertainment, 90;
   how to settle a palaver, 91;
   defends the white teacher, 93-97;
   is disturbed by the teaching, 95;
   takes Satu to the white teacher, 106
 Trade goods taken for rubber, ivory, etc., 13
 Trading, 230;
   fetish for helping, 231;
   arrival of traders, 234
 Treatment of native chief, 273
 Tumbu sold for food, 43;
   tells a story, 43;
   wounded, 217;
   witnesses for Bakula, 244;
   tries to comfort Bakula, 249;
   buries Bakula, 292;
   takes me from his friend’s body, 293

          V

 Visitors arrive, 59;
   abused by Plaited-Beard, 62

          W

 War fetish is made, 214
 Wardrobes, variegated, 87
 Welcomed to the station, 303, 311
 White men, native talk about, 13
 White man’s fetish, 13;
   puts weight under scale, 14;
   buys banana for rubber, 14;
   cheats in paying out beads, 14;
   is rubbed with cow-itch, 15;
   wants to steal ivory trumpets but is shaved, 32;
   accused of being dirty, 62;
   why they live under the sea, 108;
   will steal our country, 172
 White woman take services, 314
 Witch-doctors, names of--
   Kimbaji-mbaji = to-morrow, 21
   Ngang’a Ngombo = witch-finder, 50, 288
   Ngol’a nkasa = giver of the ordeal, 55;
   ngang’a zumbi = luck-giver, 69;
   ngang’a nkongo = giver of hunting skill, 194, 210
   Kimpovela, one who speaks on behalf of others, 198
     prayer of, 199, 207
   Nganga of war, 214
   Nganga of peace, 221
   Ngang’a mpungu = giver of trading and general good luck, 231
   Nganga who gives oil ordeal, 246
   Nganga to destroy evil spirit, 363
   Nganga a wuka = healer, 274
   Nganga a moko, 277
   Nganga with traps, 280
   Nganga a bitodi who spoke to spirits, 281
   Nganga various, 284
 Women regarded as inferior, 30, 38;
   condition bettered by Christianity, 310;
   white woman takes services, 314

           _Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay._

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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                       ==JAMES CHALMERS==
               ==His Autobiography and Letters.==

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                    LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.


                             Transcriber’s Note

    Endnote 24, which merely cross-references endnote 19, is not
    referred to directly anywhere in the text.

    Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected,
    and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the
    original.

  82.26    [“]Next morning the Wine-gatherer              Added.
  163      Mbumb[u/a]’s record                            Replaced.
  395.6    [“]and you will be the tenth.”                 Added.
  396.8    [“]but where is the money?”                    Added.
  466.3    models of diagno[s]ing                         Inserted.
  467.27   takes [me] from his friend’s body              _sic_