I BUILD A VILLAGE, AND CALL IT WASHINGTON--I START FOR THE
INTERIOR--MY SPEECH ON LEAVING--THE PEOPLE APPLAUD ME VOCIFEROUSLY,
AND PROMISE TO BE HONEST--WE REACH ANIAMBIA--THE "BIG KING,"
OLENGA-YOMBI--A ROYAL BALL IN MY HONOUR--THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE
NATIVES--A MAN TOSSED BY A BUFFALO.
I immediately began building a substantial settlement, not an _olako_.
I collected from a kind of palm tree a great many leaves, with which to
cover the roofs of the buildings I had to construct. I gathered also
a great quantity of branches from the same palm trees, and sticks,
and poles, and all that was necessary to make a house; and finally I
succeeded in building quite a village, which I called Washington. My
own house had five rooms; it was forty-five feet long by twenty-five
wide, and cost me about fifty dollars. My kitchen, which stood by
itself, cost four dollars. I had a fowl-house, containing a hundred
chickens (and such nice little tiny chickens they are in that country)
and a dozen ducks. My goat-house contained eighteen goats, and funny
goats they were. You had to milk a dozen of them to get a pint of milk.
I built a powder-house separate, for I do not like to sleep every day
in a place where there is powder. I had a dozen huts for my men.
This was Washington in Africa, a very different place from Washington
in America.
At the back of my village was a wide extent of prairie. In front was
the river Npoulounai winding along; and I could see miles out on the
way which I was soon to explore. The river banks were lined with the
mangrove trees; and, looking up stream, I could at almost any time see
schools of hippopotami tossing and tumbling on the flats or mud banks.
I was now ready to explore the country, and go to Aniambia, where the
big king of the country lived. I bought a splendid canoe, made of
large trees, which I hoped would be serviceable to me in my up-river
explorations. I was now anxious to be off.
Before starting I called Ranpano and all his people together, and said
that I had perfect confidence in them; that I was their white man, and
had come to them through much difficulty and many dangers. (Cheers.)
That Sangala's people wanted me, but I was determined to live with the
honest folks of Biagano (Ranpano's village). (Tremendous applause.)
That I was going away for a few days, and hoped to find my goods all
safe when I came back.
At this, there were great shoutings of "You can go! Do not fear! We
love you! You are our white man! We will take care of you!" and so on;
amid which my sixteen men seized their paddles, and shoved off.
At nine in the evening, the moon rose; and we pulled along through what
seemed a charming scene. The placid stream was shaded by the immense
trees which overhung its banks; and the silence was broken, now and
then, by the screech of some night-prowling blast, or, more frequently,
by the sudden plunge of a playful herd of hippopotami, some of which
came very dangerously near us, and might have upset our canoe.
Towards midnight, my men became very tired, and we went ashore, at a
little village which was nearly deserted. We could find only three
old women, who were fast asleep and were not particularly anxious to
make us welcome. I was too sleepy to stand upon ceremonies, and stowed
myself away under a rough shed without walls. I had scarcely lain down,
when there came up, suddenly, one of those fierce tornadoes which pass
over these countries in the rainy season.
Fortunately, it was a dry tornado. In my half-sleepy state I did not
care to move. As the tornado had unroofed every other shed as well as
mine, nothing would have been gained by moving, even if it had rained.
The next morning we paid for our lodging, not in hard cash, but with
some leaves of tobacco, and up the river we paddled until we reached
a village called Igala Mandé, which is situated on the banks of the
river. In a two hours' walk through grass fields we found numerous
birds. One, in particular, was new to me, the _Mycteria senegalensis_.
It had such long legs that it fairly outwalked me. I tried to catch it;
but, though it would not take to its wings, it kept so far ahead that I
did not even get a fair shot at it. This _Mycteria senegalensis_ is a
beautiful bird, and wanders here through the grass of the prairie.
There were also great flocks of a beautiful bird, whose dark golden
body-plumage and long snow-white downy necks make a very fine and
marked contrast with the green grass. Next to these, in point of
number, was the snow-white _egretta_, which is found in vast flocks all
along this coast.
At last we came to Aniambia. Olenga-Yombi, the king, came in from his
plantation when he heard the joyful news that a white man had arrived.
I paid him a state visit. He was a drunken old wretch, surrounded
by a crowd of the chief men of the town. His majesty had on a thick
overcoat, but no trousers; and, early as it was, he had already taken a
goodly quantity of palm-wine, and was quite drunk. I was invited to sit
at his right hand.
King Olenga-Yombi was one of the ugliest fellows I ever met with. He
always carried with him a long stick; and when drunk he struck at his
people right and left, and shouted, "I am a big king!" Happily, they
managed to keep out of his way.
At nightfall I got a guide, and went out to see if I could get a shot
at something larger than a bird. We had gone but a little way, when
my guide pointed out to me a couple of bright glowing spots, visible
through a piece of thick brush. The fellow trembled, as he whispered
"Leopard!" But I saw at once that it was only the light of a couple
of fireflies which had got in proper position to make a tolerable
resemblance to the glowing eyes of the dreaded leopard.
I did not think much of the bravery of my guide. What a difference
between him and Aboko, Niamkala, or Fasiko! I wished that I had them
with me.
At two o'clock in the morning we at last heard a grunting, which
announced the approach of a herd of wild hogs. I lay in wait for them,
and I was fortunate enough to kill the big boar of the pack. The rest
of the herd made off without showing a desire for fight.
The next day, King Olenga-Yombi held a grand dance in my honour. All
the king's wives, to the number of forty, and all the women in the
town and neighbourhood were present.
Fortunately, the dance was held out in the street, and not in a room,
as at Cape Lopez. The women were ranged on one side, the men opposite.
At the end of the line sat the drummers, beating their huge tom-toms,
which make an infernal din, enough to make one deaf; and, as if for
this occasion the tom-toms were not entirely adequate, there was a
series of old brass kettles, which also were furiously beaten. In
addition, as if the noise was not yet enough, a number of boys sat near
the drummers, and beat on hollow pieces of wood. What beauty they found
in such music I cannot tell. There was of course singing and shouting;
and the more loudly and energetically the horrid drums were beaten, and
the worse the noise on the brass kettles, the wilder were the jumps of
the male Africans, and the more disgusting the contortions of the women.
As may be imagined, to beat the tom-tom is not a labour of love;
the stoutest negro is worn out in an hour; and for such a night's
entertainment as this, a series of drummers was required.
The people enjoyed it vastly; their only regret was that they had not
a barrel of rum in the midst of the street, with which to refresh
themselves in the pauses of the dance; but they managed to get just as
drunk on palm-wine, of which a great quantity was served out.
The excitement became greatest when the king danced. His majesty was
pretty drunk, and his jumps were very highly applauded. His wives
bowed down to his feet while he capered about, and showed towards him
the deepest veneration. The drums and kettles were belaboured more
furiously than ever, and the singing, or rather the shouting, became
stentorian.
Of course I did not think his majesty's party pleasant enough to
detain me all night. I retired, but could not sleep.
Now I think I have given you a sufficient account of a ball at
Aniambia, and of how his majesty Olenga-Yombi danced.
There are two very curious fetich-houses in Aniambia, which enjoy the
protection of two spirits of great power--Abambou and Mbiuri. The
former is an evil spirit, a kind of devil; the latter, as far as I have
been able to ascertain, is beneficent.
The little houses where these spirits sometimes condescend to come and
sleep for the night were about six feet square. In the house of Abambou
I saw a fire, which I was told was never permitted to go out. I saw no
idol, but only a large chest, on the top of which were some white and
red chalk and some red parrot-feathers. The chalk was used to mark the
bodies of the devout.
Abambou is the devil of the Commi people. He is a wicked and
mischievous fellow, who often lives near graves and burial-grounds, and
is most comfortably lodged among the skeletons of the dead. He takes
occasional walks through the country, and, if he gets angry at anyone,
he has the power to cause sickness and death. The Commi people cook
food for him, which is deposited in lonely places in the woods, and
there they address him in a flattering manner, and ask him to be good
to them, and, in consideration of their gifts, and of the great care
they take of him, to let them alone. I was present once at a meeting
where Abambou was being addressed in public. They cried continually:
"Now we are well! Now we are satisfied! Now be our friend, Abambou, and
do not hurt us!"
The offerings of plantain, bananas, sugar-cane, ground-nuts, etc.,
etc., are wrapped in leaves by the free men, but the slaves lay them
on the bare ground. Sometimes Abambou is entreated to kill the enemies
of him who is making the offering. A bed is made in Abambou's house,
and there he is believed to rest himself sometimes, when he is tired
going up and down the coast in the forest.
Mbiuri, whose house I next visited, is lodged and kept much in the same
way as his rival. He is a good spirit, but his powers are like those
of Abambou, as far as I could make out. Not being wicked, he is less
zealously worshipped.
These Commi people are full of superstition. They believe in a third
and much-dreaded spirit, called Ovengua. This is a terrible catcher
and _eater_ of men. He is not worshipped, and has no power over
disease; but he wanders unceasingly through the forests, and catches
and destroys luckless travellers who cross his path. By day he lives
in dark caverns, but at night he roams freely, and even sometimes gets
into the body of a man, and beats and kills all who come out in the
dark. Sometimes, they relate, such a spirit is met and resisted by a
body of men, who wound him with spears, and even kill him. In this case
the body must be burned, and not even the smallest bone left, lest a
new Ovengua should arise from it. There are many places where no object
in the world would induce a Commi negro to go by night, for fear of
this dreadful monster.
They have a singular belief that when a person dies who has been
bewitched, the bones of his body leave the grave one by one, and form
in a single line united to each other, which line of bones gradually
becomes an Ovengua.
It is not an easy matter to get at the religious notions of these
people. They themselves have no well-defined ideas of them, and on many
points they are not very communicative.
I suppose they think that sometimes the Ovengua is in a man; hence they
kill him and burn his body.
Of course the Commi people, like all other negroes, are firm believers
in witchcraft.
Not very far from Aniambia, there is a place in the forest which is
supposed to be haunted by the spirit of a crazy woman, who, some
hundreds of years ago, left her home. They believe that she cultivates
her plantation in some hidden recess in the forest, and that she often
lies in wait for travellers, whom she beats and kills out of pure
malice.
While at Aniambia I had a great adventure with a _bos brachicheros_,
which might have ended in a terrible way. I started out early one day
to try and get a shot at some buffaloes which were said to be in the
prairie at the back of the town. I had been an hour on the plains
with Ifouta, a hunter, when we came upon a bull feeding in the midst
of a little prairie surrounded by woods, which made an approach easy.
I remember well how beautiful the animal looked. Ifouta walked round
through the jungle opposite to where I lay in wait; for, if the animal
should take fright at him, it might fly towards me. When he reached the
right position, Ifouta began to crawl, in the hunter's fashion, through
the grass towards his prey. All went well till he came near enough for
a shot. Just then, unluckily, the bull saw him. Ifouta immediately
fired. It was a long shot, and he only wounded the beast, which,
quite infuriated, immediately rushed upon him. It was now that poor
Ifouta lost his presence of mind. In such cases, which are continually
happening to those who hunt the _bos brachicheros_, the proper course
for the hunter is to remain perfectly quiet till the beast is within a
jump of him, then to step nimbly to one side, and let him rush past.
But Ifouta got up and ran.
The bull ran faster than he, and in a moment had him on his horns. He
tossed him high into the air, once, twice, thrice, before I could come
up; for, as soon as I saw what had happened, I ran as fast as I could
to the rescue, and my shouts drew the bull's fury upon myself. He left
Ifouta and came rushing at me, thinking that he would serve me as he
had just served Ifouta. Master Bull was sadly mistaken. I took a good
aim, and down came the bull, to rise no more.
Ifouta proved to be considerably bruised; but, on the whole, he was
more scared than hurt. It was fortunate for him that the horns of these
buffaloes slant backwards a good deal, and are curved.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: CAPTURING A YOUNG GORILLA.]