GOING TO UNKNOWN REGIONS--QUENGUEZA SENDS HIS SON AS A
HOSTAGE--I TAKE HIM ALONG WITH ME--RECEPTION BY THE KING--OUR
SPEECHES--QUENGUEZA AFRAID OF A WITCH--AN INCANTATION SCENE.
Time passed on. It was several years since I left the United States,
but nevertheless I determined to set out for the head waters of the
Fernand-Vaz, and for countries undiscovered as yet by white men.
Quengueza had sent to me his eldest son, named Kombé (the sun), with
a present of ebony wood, and his youngest son, a boy of ten, called
Akounga; and he said I must come and leave Akounga in Ranpano's hands
as a hostage for my safety. "You see," he sent word, "that I am not
afraid of you. You may trust me."
I had to take my big boat, because no canoe would hold all the goods,
powder and shot, guns, provisions, and medicines, I took along. It was
to be a very, very long journey. I was the first white man to venture
up in this direction, and I was anxious to get as far as possible.
We were fifteen in all in my boat. Another canoe, with fifteen more
men, followed us. Quengueza's little boy was with us too. I would never
have thought of such a thing as keeping the poor little fellow away
from his mother and father. I took also the brave little Macondai, whom
I had at first determined to leave behind, as being too small to stand
the fatigues of such a journey. The little fellow entreated so much to
be taken that I at last consented. He behaved like a man. Macondai grew
fast as years went by, and I wish you could have seen him fighting by
my side in Ashango land.
At last, after much fatigue and hard pulling, we reached the village
of Goumbi, the residence of King Quengueza. Here I was received in the
most triumphant manner. I could not make myself heard for the shouts
and firing of guns. The whole population of Goumbi crowded down to the
shore to see me, and I was led up in procession to an immense covered
space, capable of holding at least a thousand people, and surrounded by
seats. I found there strangers from various parts of the interior, who
gazed at me, and especially at my hair, with the greatest wonder.
A large high seat was appointed for me, and another close to it was
for Quengueza, who presently arrived with a face beaming with joy. He
shook hands with me and then seated himself.
There was a dead silence in the vast crowd before us. Quengueza
was an old, white-woolled negro, very tall, spare, and of a severe
countenance, betokening great energy and courage, qualities for which
he was celebrated all over their country. When younger he was the dread
of all, but now that he had become the chief of his clan, and was
getting old, he had grown milder, and become peaceful, to the great
joy of the surrounding villages. He was a very remarkable man for his
opportunities. He made haste to tell me that he was in mourning for his
eldest brother, who had died two years before, and left him chief of
their clan, the Abouya.
Quengueza had on a finely-knit black cap, and a grass body-cloth,
which was black also; both the cap and cloth were of Ashira make, and
were really beautiful. He had no shirt; that article is not allowed to
mourners; but he wore an American coat which was too small for him.
After the king had done welcoming me, I called his little son, Akounga.
When he had come forward, I said to the king in a loud voice, that the
people might hear: "You sent your son to me to keep, so that I might
feel safe to come to you. I am not afraid. I like you, and can trust
you. Therefore I have brought your little son back to you. I do not
want him as a hostage for my safety. Let him remain by the side of his
mother."
At this there was a tremendous shouting, and the people seemed
overjoyed.
The king rose to reply. There was immediately a dead silence; for
Quengueza was greatly reverenced by his people. The king said: "This is
my _ntangani_ (white man), he has come from a far country to see me. I
went down to beg him to come up to me. Now he has come. Let no one do
harm to his people; for him I need not speak. Give food to his people.
Treat them well. Do not steal anything. If you do not do as I say, A
BIG PALAVER WILL COME UPON YOU!" This last sentence he uttered in a
tremendous voice.
Then he addressed himself to the Ashira and Bakalai who were present,
saying,: "Beware! Do not steal my white man, for if you should make the
attempt, I will sell you all."
Then loads of plantains and sugar-canes, together with a hundred fowls,
and several goats, were presented to me by the king, and this closed
the ceremony.
The longer I stayed with Quengueza, the more I loved him; I was only
sorry that he was so curiously superstitious. For a year he had not
passed down the street which led most directly to the water, but had
gone always by a roundabout way, because, when he came to the throne,
this street was pronounced bewitched by a secret enemy of his; and
he was persuaded that if he passed by it, he would surely die. This
superstitious notion had originated in a dream of the king's which had
been interpreted in that way.
Several times efforts had been made by distinguished doctors to
drive away the _aniemba_ (witch), which there lay in wait; but the
king, though he believed in sorcery, did not have much faith in the
exorcisers or doctors. He thought that, perhaps, the aniemba had not
gone, and that it was better to be on the safe side, which was not to
go on the road at all. But his subjects felt very much troubled about
this matter; for they wanted their king to pass through their street
sometimes.
Once more a last attempt was made to drive off the aniemba, or witch.
A famous doctor from the far-off Bakalai country had been brought down
to perform this act. His name was Aquailai.
In the evening the people gathered in great numbers under the immense
_hangar_, or covered space in which I had been received, and there lit
fires, around which they sat. The space thus covered was one hundred
and fifty feet long by forty wide, and was roofed with palm branches
and leaves.
About ten o'clock, when it was pitch dark, the doctor commenced
operations by singing some boastful songs, recounting his power over
witches. Immediately all the people gathered into their houses, and
with such great haste, that two women failing to get home, and afraid
to go farther through the streets, took refuge in my house. Then all
the fires in the houses were carefully extinguished, those under the
hangar having been already put out; and, in about an hour more, there
was not a light of any kind in the whole town except mine. They had
only asked of me that I should shut my door. The most pitchy darkness
and the most complete silence reigned everywhere. No voice could
be heard, even in a whisper, among the several thousands of people
gathered in the gloom.
At last the silence was broken by the doctor, who, standing in the
centre of the town, began some loud babbling, of which I could not make
out the meaning. From time to time the people answered him in chorus.
This went on for an hour, and was really one of the strangest scenes I
ever took part in. I could see nothing but the faces of the two women
in my house, who were badly frightened, poor things, as, in fact,
all the people were. The hollow voice of the witch-doctor resounded
curiously through the silence; and when the answer of many mingled
voices came through the darkness, the ceremony really assumed the air
of a poet's incantation scene.
At last, just at midnight by my watch, I heard the doctor approach. He
had bells girded about him, which he jingled as he walked. He went to
every family in the town, successively, and asked if to them belonged
the aniemba (witch) that obstructed the king's highway. Of course, all
answered no. Then he began to run up and down the bewitched street,
calling out loudly for the witch to go off. Presently he came back and
announced that he could no longer see the aniemba, which had doubtless
gone, never to come back. At this, all the people rushed out of their
houses, and shouted, "Go away! go away! and never come back to hurt our
king!"
Then fires were lit, and all sat down to eat. This done, all the fires
were once more extinguished; and the people sung wild songs until four
o'clock. Then the fires were lit again.
At sunrise the whole population gathered to accompany their king down
the dreaded street to the water. Quengueza, I know, was brave as a
hunter and as a warrior. He was also very intelligent about many things
regarding which his people were very stupid; but the poor old king
was now horribly afraid. He was assured that the aniemba was gone;
but he evidently thought that he was walking to almost certain death.
He hesitated; but at last he determined to face his fate, and walked
manfully down to the river and back, amidst the plaudits of his loyal
subjects. So ended the ceremony; but Quengueza never went again on that
road; his dread of it still remained.
[Illustration]