The Equator District.
Coquilhatville, the capital of this important District is the largest
town in the Upper Congo. The roads are formed by bamboos laid in rows,
upon which sand and mud are placed the whole forming an effective
pavement for foot passengers and no other is required for there are no
carriages and only a few horses. All the officers don white uniforms
with full dress, badges and medals, and together we proceed to make a
formal call on Captain Stevens, the Commissaire of the District with
whom is staying Mr. Malfeyt, Commissaire du Roi. Some of the officers
take their dogs with them, which at once make a furious onslaught on
the numerous cats of the Commissaire and have to be suppressed. Mgr.
Derikx places a particularly pugnacious fox-terrier under the basket
work of his chair the little animal being literally sat upon by the
dignitary of the Church.
The Residency is a large brick building situated on a low hill and
raised above the ground, the space beneath being enclosed and
loop-holed, thus forming a small fort. The gardens are particularly
pretty and well kept. Beer is handed round and we sit chatting on the
verandah until Mr. Grenfell, the head of the Baptist Mission, arrives.
He has travelled up the river in the Mission Steamer from Bolobo and was
on his way when we stopped at that place. As he has been in the Congo
for more than twenty years, he knows the country well and thus speaks
with authority. He thinks the system of Government excellent, but that
it is administered better in the Lower than the Upper Congo, because
there are not enough officials in the latter. He is convinced the
population has greatly decreased on the riverside of the Bangala
District, and attributes it chiefly to Sleeping Sickness for he cannot
say if emigration to the French Congo has been extensive or not. No case
of ill-treatment of natives has come to his notice during the last three
years, but he thinks the State does not give them enough work to do. He
has seen natives without hands, but does not believe that any atrocities
have occurred for many years. Generally speaking, he thinks it would be
better if the State acquired all the property of the Companies. Although
he does not know of any definite cases of ill-treatment, he has heard
reports and thinks there is "no smoke without fire." However, he is
quite prepared to agree that a very little fire in the Congo makes a
great deal of smoke. Altogether, Mr. Grenfell spoke very calmly, and is
evidently not carried away by emotionalism or strong prejudice against
the State.
At Coquilhatville, as elsewhere in the State, the prisoners are given
useful work to do. Near by a party were digging a hole by the roadway.
They were chained together but the chain was so long that it did not
hamper their movements. Two policemen were on guard, but the whole gang
were evidently taking matters very easily.
In the evening we dine with the Commissaire and a party of sixteen or
eighteen, including many of our fellow travellers, Mr. Grenfell and Dr.
Button, of the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine, who is here
studying the Sleeping Sickness. Everyone we meet who has travelled in
other countries and also visited the Congo, is astonished at the
wonderful development of the place. It is indeed becoming more and more
apparent that the State has gone ahead very fast and that the stress has
been great, both for Europeans and natives. Probably, now the machine is
fairly set rolling, it will proceed more steadily in the future.
Next day we decide to leave the _Flandre_ and stay for a week or so at
Coquilhatville. Commandant Ankström, the Adjoint Superieur to the
Commissaire, kindly lends us his house and we at once move in, glad to
leave the mosquitoes of the river and to sleep in a room once more.
Everything in the house and garden is scrupulously clean and tidy,
characteristics which I may add were found in nearly every Post and
house in the whole country. The sanitary arrangements are the
perfection of simplicity. There are no drains, but simple receptables
which are emptied and cleaned every morning while carbolic acid is used
liberally. This admirable system is carried out in every Post, however
large or small, and I never once found it unobserved. The natives
themselves are also very cleanly in their habits, so that although the
heat is great and decomposition proceeds very rapidly, bad smells are
absolutely unknown. Near the residency is a well kept farm and the
mutton tasted particularly nice after the diet of goat on the steamer.
The effect of the climate on my digestion is curious. In Europe all
forms of starch and sugar give me indigestion and I have therefore to
avoid bread, potatoes, jam, sugar and kindred substances. Here however,
I have a craving for these things and never have indigestion. I mention
this personal trait, because many other travellers in the tropics have
often stated that they could march on rice and jam for days without
desiring meat of any kind. No doubt the system is working at, so to
speak, high pressure, but it is curious that a complete change in one's
idiosyncrasies should take place even in the first month.
On August 5th the _Flandre_ proceeds up the river, and we bid farewell
to our travelling companions, who seem to have become old friends in the
last six weeks. Everyone, is always most kind and courteous, and not
only gives every information, but also the benefit of his experience,
and thus affords much valuable assistance. The town of Coquilhatville
consists of rows of brick houses standing in their own gardens and
fronting on avenues. It may seem that one insists unnecessarily on the
fact that the houses are brick in all the towns, a fact which the
European would accept as a matter of course. The traveller however knows
that in most tropical countries, wood is usually employed instead, as
being easier to obtain and work. Indeed in the United States, the
country seats of even the very wealthy are generally constructed chiefly
of that substance. Bricks however, are by no means easily made in the
Congo, for in many places the soil is very sandy and it is therefore
difficult to make the brick bind. Again, lime is very scarce and all
manner of substances are used to make mortar. Among these the ant hills
are much in favour, for it has been observed that these structures which
are often thirty feet high and in proportion great in diameter, never
disintegrate in the heaviest rain. When dug out and mixed with sand
their substance makes an excellent mortar. Again, the shells of oysters,
which abound in some parts of the river are also used to make mortar
with good results. The roofs are thatched with palm leaves wherever
obtainable, and if well constructed are quite water tight. Glass windows
are not much used, for as much air as possible is desirable and the
verandahs are so broad that rain rarely enters. The openings are thus
closed only by shutters or by wire gauze to keep out the numerous
insects.
Living here is very expensive. The usual money is the mitako, but the
native likes salt and will sometimes take cloth if he fancies it. He is
however, very independent, and on one occasion a native refused 14/- in
cloth for a single duck. Fowls and eggs are about the same price as in
the West End of London, but the latter are very scarce. Fruit is
however, cheap, as it is abundant. Near the town is a large coffee and
cocoa plantation arranged in square fields, separated by avenues of
palms, which both form grateful shade and yield much palm oil. On each
field is a large board on which is painted the number of bushes. Papye,
coeur de boeuf, bananas and pineapples abound.
The system of work in every Post is exactly the same, so that a
description of it as witnessed in Coquilhatville would equally do for
every place in the Congo. At 5.30 a.m. reveille and at 6 a.m. roll call
of all the Europeans and native workers who then, led by a bugler, march
off to their respective duties. At 11.15 a.m. bugle call and all the
natives march to the river and bathe. At 11.30 a.m. bathing ceases and
they march off behind the bugler to dinner and rest. At 2.30 p.m. they
assemble again and at 5.30 p.m. finish for the day. The native thus
works eight hours and a half and rests in the hottest portion of the
day. The workers in the plantations are entirely volunteers and so do
not come under the 40 hours' rule, which is only applied to those who
live in the villages and are not in the State service. The women do the
light work in the plantations and thus fare much better, than when
forced to do all the work by their husbands, which happens in all the
villages. It is curious to see them brushing the roads with palm leaves.
Six or eight women walk abreast and push away the dust and dead leaves
which are then collected in baskets and thrown into the river.
As our house looks into the square where the Force Publique drill, we
witness the methods employed. At first the recruit is taught which is
right and which is left. _Droite_ and up goes the right hand, _gauche_
and the left follows. The native corporal, however, has corrupted these
words into _hi hoo_ so that, as is usual in military commands, no mere
civilian can possibly understand them. Afterwards when he comes to mount
guard and relieve sentries, the order _présentez armes!_ might be
anything from the sound.
The band practices also close at hand. First the cornet picks out some
air he has heard, note by note, and like a child who is learning the
piano, always goes back to the beginning of the piece when he strikes a
false note. After many trials the whole air is discovered. Then the
trombones and bass instruments put in the accompaniment also by
experiment, and in the end the result is really quite good for Africans
unlike Asiatics, take kindly to European music.
The method of moving heavy weights is necessarily very primitive, for,
with the exception of a few wheel-barrows, there are no vehicles of any
kind here. A huge tree trunk was carried into the square one day; pieces
of wood had been lashed across it about two feet apart throughout its
length. One or two men on each side of each piece then lifted it and the
whole eighty or hundred men marched the trunk along with ease at a jog
trot. It would indeed be impossible to use heavy trolleys in this part
of the Congo, for the roads are sandy and the wheels would at once sink
deeply into them.
A walk through the plantation, which extends over some square miles, is
very pleasant, as the palms spread their leaves across the avenues until
they nearly touch each other thus forming beautiful shady groves. Ferns
grow round the stems and the whole is extremely pretty and
cool-looking. Beyond the plantation is the cemetery for the whites. Each
grave is covered with bricks and has a wooden cross at the head on which
is inscribed the name and date of death. The age however, is omitted and
this is perhaps as well, for the Congo exacts a heavy toll of young
lives and new comers are often depressed already by the accounts of the
climate which have reached Europe.
Further on is a forest through which runs a narrow native tract. This
demonstrates well the extreme indolence of the native. If a small branch
of a tree falls across the path, he steps over it, if a large one, he
walks round it. Time is no object, so the length of the road is
immaterial. No attempt is made to form bridges, for the streams are not
deep and are easily fordable, nor even to break off the branches of
trees which obstruct the way. It is easier to stoop and pass beneath.
The forest paths have indeed been made simply by the pressure of bare
feet on the soil and undergrowth. A few monkeys and parrots chatter
overhead and an occasional pigeon coos, but the chief forms of animal
life here, are thousands of the most lovely butterflies. These are
coloured to suit the surroundings and are therefore usually of subdued
tints. Occasionally however, a great insect nearly as large as one's
hand, flies by exhibiting the most vivid greens, reds, and blues.
Bananas, rubber plants, palms and acacias crowd each other in the forest
through which we walk for three or four miles, until we reach a native
village consisting of a few square huts in a clearing. A handsome
looking fellow comes up to us, salutes and desires to know if we wish to
buy anything. Having neither mitakos, salt, nor cloth except the
pyjamas we are wearing, we cannot deal and leave the man wondering
probably--if the native ever does wonder--why we walked all that
distance if we did not require anything.
On August 8th we visit the Botanical Gardens at Eala, which is about
three miles from Coquilhatville. Mr. Pinard, the Director of the
Gardens, shows us the various plants indigenous and imported which he
has collected, and although the place has only been formed for three
years, almost everything which could possibly grow has been planted. The
soil is sandy, the altitude about 1100 feet above sea level and the
temperature is about 90° F. Numerous varieties of rubber plants are
arranged here for experimental purposes, and gutta percha also is slowly
attaining maturity. Bushes which yield acid, suitable for coagulating
the milk of the rubber plant, grow alongside. Cotton does not do well
here owing to the scarcity of rain, but coffee and tea flourish. All the
palms, many ferns and orchids and nearly every fruit and vegetable,
European as well as tropical, grow in great profusion while the melons,
vegetable marrows, beans, peas, potatoes, lettuces, cucumbers and
tomatoes look healthy. Croton, belladonna and other medicinal herbs are
cultivated and there are many beautiful flowers, whose use is chiefly
ornamental. The gardens are of great extent, well laid out and
beautifully kept, so that it is difficult to believe that four years ago
this site was wild forest.
Adjoining the gardens is a large farm in which cattle, resembling those
of the Lower Congo, look well. It is however, unfortunate that the cows
only give sufficient milk to rear their calves. Horses, asses and pigs
live healthily and the native sheep thrive, but are very thin. Although
wheat will not grow, maize is easily raised and the grass, if coarse
looking, is good for grazing. The farm buildings are kept most
scrupulously clean, for the slightest neglect would probably occasion an
epidemic of trichinosis among the pigs.
The villages in the neighbourhood of Coquilhatville seem very populous
and prosperous. Any morning early whole families can be met--father,
mother and children, with bundles of manioc fastened on their backs by
broad grass fibres--going to the town. Everywhere the natives seem
contented and happy. When not working, they sit in the roads and dye
their skins or have their hair dressed, while the children play around
with bows and arrows or other pugnacious kind of toys. The wealthy wear
heavy brass rings extending from the ankle to the knee and the
discomfort must be very great, but as is proved by the tatouage, the
natives will bear much pain in order to beautify themselves. Before
leaving Coquilhatville, we send for the boy Epondo, who was rendered
famous as an example of an atrocity by Mr. Casement, the late British
Consul at Boma. Epondo is now employed as a gardener by the Commissaire
of the District and is always at hand when visitors desire to see him.
Four inches below the elbow joint of the left arm there are two deeps
scars, three inches apart, which could certainly have been produced by
the bite of an animal of about the size of a wild boar. The stump of the
forearm is covered with irregular scars, such as would remain if the
hand had become gangrenous and fallen away. It was useless asking him
questions, as he had already told two distinct stories which have been
related above.
On August 10th, we leave Coquilhatville and steam down the river to
Irebu, which we reach after a few hours hot journey. Mr. Jeniaux, the
Commandant, has spared no pains to make the camp not only beautiful but
attractive in every way and it has well earned its reputation as one of
the show places of the Congo. Lord Mountmorres is lodged in a spare
house used for guests and Lieutenant Hoyer kindly lends me his during
our stay. The Mess is very comfortably arranged, and the dinner based on
antelope and wild pig is excellent.
Next day I go hunting with Mr. Hoyer in a canoe propelled by twenty
paddlers. These at first keep up a kind of chant to the time of the
paddles which is quite musical and pleasant. As we approach the game
grounds however, they become quite silent. After travelling up stream
for about a mile, we land in a kind of bog which is full of a species of
duck, somewhat resembling a wood-cock. A sergeant of the Force Publique
acts as guide and hunter, and it soon becomes apparent that the native
is in the habit of stalking even birds and shooting them sitting. This
is natural enough for formerly they were armed with bows and arrows, and
now the army of course use only rifles. Shot guns, therefore, are only
known to the boys of the white men, some of whom are very good shots.
The hunter seems quite annoyed because I only shoot at birds on the
wing, but is delighted when one falls. So far indeed, the only
enthusiasm a native has shown, has been while hunting after a successful
shot. The paddlers at once re-enact the scene, put imaginary guns to
their shoulders give a loud bang and then describe circles with their
hands to give a dumb show of the bird falling, laughing and shouting
all the time. They are really just like young children and are easily
pleased by trifles. After walking some distance the sergeant becomes
wildly excited and clutches me violently by the arm but makes no noise.
Looking up I see a large monkey but signify that I will not shoot those
beasts. He then asks permission to fire his rifle and brings it down
with a shot through the head. After this we paddle on to the hippo
ground. After the very first shot at a head fifty yards away, the canoe
suddenly gives a great lurch and as nearly as possible capsizes. Another
great beast had evidently chosen that moment to come up just under it
and if we had not been a heavy load, would undoubtedly have thrown it
high in the air. As it was, beyond a shaking, no one was damaged and we
had excellent sport for a few minutes until the animals made for the
bank and hid themselves in the long grass.
Behind Irebu is a plain, where the grass is really green, the green that
is only seen in the tropics. Here and there are clumps of palms and
patches of forest, the whole giving the appearance of a well kept park.
There are antelope and wild pig here but they are very difficult to
stalk owing to the open character of the ground. There are also a few
red-legged partridges and many pigeons so that one always found
something to shoot.
The native camp here consists of a large square shut off by a wooden
fence. Inside are large huts in which the soldiers live, and oddly
enough, they all prefer to have separate establishments, each woman
preparing the food for her husband. These women also work in the
plantation when they are not concerned with the business of maternity,
which judging by the number of children about, must be very seldom. The
native cemetery is a curious-looking place, for on each grave is placed
the clothes of the dead one and any other belongings he has. No one
knows the origin or object of this custom. They are not for the journey
to the happy hunting ground apparently, for missionaries say they have
never heard the natives speak of any kind of a future state. It may be
that these articles are merely to show the wealth of the departed; they
are however, all broken or torn to shreds, so that no robber should be
tempted to take them. Many of the tribes are said to eat their dead,
except those of high position and those who die of infectious diseases,
and others used to throw the corpses in the river. Some tribes however,
have a very elaborate funeral with much wailing and lamenting and the
departed is interred beneath his own hut, which is never occupied again.
At Irebu, the narrow river from Lake Tumba joins the Congo, and from its
small size is known usually as the canal. The current sometimes flows up
and sometimes down, according to the height of water in the Congo, but
it is obvious that the general direction must be down, as many small
streams flow into the Lake, and all their water is certainly not
dispersed by evaporation. Many crocodiles pass up and down the canal and
it would be easy to shoot them from the windows or verandah of my house,
but it seems to be rather a waste of cartridges which, like most other
things, must be carried the whole tour, for none can be procured in the
Congo. I do not therefore, care to run the risk of running short when
the hunting grounds of Uele are reached.
Sunday is usually a very busy day in Irebu. No work is done, but all
the Chiefs come in to call on the Commandant, who is evidently regarded
as a species of parent. Indeed, the nickname of Commandant Jeniaux is
the native word meaning Father. All the sick are brought in and receive
treatment; children are vaccinated, and any little native disputes are
brought before him to settle. These nearly always relate to women. One
man will complain that his wife has not behaved herself properly at
home, that she has not prepared his food nicely, or much more rarely,
that she has run away with another. Sometimes a Chief complains that
another one has stolen some of his women or goats, and then the other
side is heard and the judgment pronounced. These are of course, not
formal trials, and the judgment is more in the shape of advice. It is
however, always acted upon, for the time being at least. Serious cases
are left to the Courts, but this institution of friendly palavers is an
excellent one and establishes confidence and good will among the
natives. It is here indeed, that the personal character of the white man
is put to the test. A calm, just, firm rule will win both the love and
respect of these over-grown children, but an excitable, harsh, uncertain
temper and manner, will only awaken distrust and hatred. The more
popular the head of the Station, the easier it is for him to find
workers in the villages, which in turn affect the general condition of
the country around. Although the system of work is absolutely uniform
and every official is tied in a particular groove, yet the whole
welfare, work, and indeed, appearance of the country and villages, is
good or bad according to the moral character and personality of the
chief white man in the neighbourhood. I would therefore, say, with
however some reserve, that when the natives are discontented and rebel,
it is not because they dislike the system of Government, but are
dissatisfied with the man who administers it.
[Illustration: NATIVE CHIEFS AT COQUILHATVILLE.]
On August 16th, Inspecteur d'Etat Warnant, Commander in-chief of the
Force Publique, arrives at Irebu. He is on a tour of inspection, and has
every reason to be satisfied with the efficiency of the troops. Perfect
discipline and harmony is maintained throughout all ranks and all the
officers are agreed that the troops are perfectly steady when fighting
and never show the least sign of cowardice. Many are very good shots and
their drill certainly leaves nothing to be desired.
On the same day Mr. Joseph Clarke, of the American Baptist Mission at
Ikoko, calls at Irebu and kindly invites me to his house for a few days.
This is situated on the banks of Lake Tumba, or Mantumba or Lac N'Tomba,
whichever you prefer. Lord Mountmorres remains at Irebu, but I leave in
Mr. Clarke's boat, propelled by twenty four paddlers, and journey along
the canal, which twists and turns in all directions. Towards sunset we
land at Boboko where Mr. Clarke buys some ducks and eggs, the price of
the latter being a table-spoonful of salt for each. He arranges also to
sell some nails to the Chief. We then cross the canal to Itutu, a branch
Mission Station conducted by a native who preaches, and is an excellent
carpenter. Here we sleep, Mr. Clarke making up a bed in the boat, while
I occupy a mud hut which however, is scrupulously clean.
Next morning, after a bathe in the canal, in which the water is like
warm, weak coffee, we continue our journey to Ngero, a long straggling
village on the north bank of the Lake. The huts here are oblong and
strongly constructed of hard cane and mud, the roofs being thatched with
dried palm leaves closely interlaced. It is necessary to stoop to enter
them, for the doors are not five feet high, but it is possible to stand
upright within. There is usually a wood fire burning, but no outlet for
the smoke, which slowly finds its way through the roof. The rafters
therefore, are covered with a kind of tar which, undoubtedly, acts as an
antiseptic, and also keeps away the insects. The mosquitoes indeed, will
not face wood smoke, but tobacco smoke is useless as a shield against
their attacks. Both sexes here are practically nude. The men are
fishermen and the women look after the banana-plantations, crush the
palm nuts for oil and do the cooking and housework.
Ngero was the village of the Chief Lokolo Longania, who raised a
rebellion against the State some years ago, and after some trouble was
captured and hanged. Here we buy some fish and eggs and then go on to
Ikoko, the crew singing native songs and Christian hymns as they paddle
along. The Mission house is very prettily situated, and is a wooden
building, with that very rare luxury in the Congo, glass windows. Here
we are met by Mrs. Clarke, who has spent many years with her husband in
Africa. The Mission has a good farm and garden, and since the climate is
not as bad as in many parts, its inmates enjoy fair health. A large
wooden building is used as a chapel and school, and near it is a saw pit
and a carpenter's shop where the boys make furniture and boxes for sale
at Irebu and other Posts in the neighbourhood, for the furniture of the
Ikoko Mission is quite famous. The girls all wear plain, blue frocks
which they make themselves, as well as clothes for sale, and many are
also quite expert at various kinds of fancy needlework. The business has
however, decreased lately owing to the decrease in population. The
Mission bell has been ingeniously fixed in a tree, and it calls to
school, to work and prayer, as regularly as the bugle in the State
Posts.
The village of Ikoko consists of groups of huts separated from each
other by the tall grass, which here is eighteen or twenty feet long, but
as the ends bend over, not above twelve or fifteen feet high. The people
seem idle, contented and happy, the chief industry being fishing and
net-making. Mr. Clarke said the population used to be about 2000 in
number, but many have died of Sleeping Sickness and some have migrated.
This is very evident, for a number of huts are deserted, and the weeds
have grown over them, in some cases entirely blocking the entrances. Out
of curiosity, we have a rough census taken and find there are 138 men in
the village on August 19th. Some no doubt are fishing, and allowing for
these and the women and children, there are probably not more than 1000
to 1200 people now living in the village. The work these do for the
State, consists of supplying 600 rations of fish per week to the
plantation of Bikoro, a ration consisting of a whole, a half, or a
quarter of a fish according to its size. For this they are paid 600
mitakos--or about 23/--. They also supply bamboos and baskets, but it is
very plain that if the people worked hard, they would certainly not
require as long as 40 hours a month to accomplish their tasks. The fish
are caught in nets made of thin bamboo lashed together by a tough
creeper, which are arranged in the lake. Sometimes it happens that the
fishermen are unfortunate and then they buy from their neighbours who
take advantage of the scarcity value and charge them more than they will
receive from the State. A village might thus be out of pocket by the
transaction, but as each one has its turn, probably by the end of the
year no one has lost or gained.
In the Mission school men, women, and children are learning to read and
write the native language, and some have mastered also the rudiments of
arithmetic and French. Some of the classes are held in the school-room
and others under trees near at hand. An assistant missionary, Mr.
Whitman, helps Mr. Clarke, while Mrs. Whitman teaches in the school.
On August 20th we start for Bikoro under a threatening sky. It is indeed
soon apparent that a tornado is crossing the Lake towards us, for great
banks of dense clouds advancing rapidly from the south west now obscure
the sun. It would be impossible to travel through the storm, so we turn
the boat and make for a creek which bounds Ikoko on the east. Only just
in time, we reach a native hut, as a terrific storm bursts overhead.
The rain descends in sheets accompanied by vivid green lightning and
crashes of thunder. Fortunately the roof is water-tight, but the mud
floor of the hut has worn down below the level of the ground outside and
soon the water pours through the door and is nine or ten inches deep
inside. The fire splutters out and the logs float around amid the
crowing of fowls and the cackling of ducks who are quite contented and
happy. Our hostess with a baby strapped on her back in the usual native
fashion, commences to bale out the water with a basket while we sit on
logs in the darkness and try to keep dry. After about an hour the storm
passes and we go back to the Mission, the Lake now appearing like a
small sea.
Mr. Clarke lends me a copy of the _Memorial concerning conditions in the
Independent State of the Congo_ which was presented to the American
Senate early in 1904. There seem to be a great many curious errors in
it. It starts with the astounding statement that the Congo Free State
has a sea board of 400 miles along the Atlantic, whereas a glance at the
map will show that it is really about a tenth as long. It estimates the
Force Publique at 30,000 men, rather more than twice its full strength,
and its author is under the impression that the people may not collect
the produce of the land or "barter it for merchandise." It is a little
difficult to understand what the author means here. As a matter of fact,
the people are trading with each other, all day long and with the white
travellers whenever they have the opportunity. They sell food, lances,
native knives and all kinds of curiosities to those who desire them and
are at perfect liberty to barter away all their property if they wish to
do so. They may not of course enter the territories of the State or
Private Companies and take the ivory or rubber, any more than the people
in Europe may walk on to private land and gather the corn or fruit from
it for their own use or profit. The native indeed is in the position of
a farm labourer who gathers the fruits of the soil for his master and is
paid a wage for so doing. On Sunday I attend service in the chapel. A
native from Sierra Leone reads a lesson from the Gospel of St. Matthew,
which has been translated into Bangala and gives a short address on the
subject afterwards. He is evidently much in earnest and talks with that
kind of spirit of conviction frequently to be noticed in street
preachers. Several hymns are sung and then the people pass out, dropping
their mitakos into the plate as they do so. In the afternoon, we walk
round the village. Mr. Clarke notices a boy with a malformation of one
knee and speaks to him. He then explains to me that this is another
atrocity, for the boy said he had been shot by the soldiers of the State
when an infant. An examination of the boy however, showed he was
suffering from a kind of bony tumour. There are several chiefs in Ikoko
and one of them also practises as a doctor. He has cleared a space about
ten feet in diameter and enclosed it for a consulting room, while an
inner chamber, still more closely surrounded, is the secret place where
the infusions are made and the charms and fetishes consulted. Although
many of the drugs used, are efficacious or not, according to the faith
of the patient, as in civilised countries, yet the white people
constantly tell of apparently wonderful cures by native doctors, and it
is certain that the people at present prefer to be treated by those of
their own colour. There is also an old lady in Ikoko, the widow of a
chief, who is reported to be very clever as a healer. This old person
has European features but has an unpleasant expression. The native women
wear nothing but a thin belt with a small piece of cloth attached but
they are covered with brass rings, and the principle wife of an
important chief here was wearing a necklet of solid brass which must
have weighed thirty or forty pounds. This was fixed on and had to be
worn night and day.
[Illustration: THE FARM AT EALA.]
In spite however, of clever doctors, the men do not live to be much over
forty years of age. Perhaps they have too many wives for there are far
more old women than men. On the other hand, as there must be two or
three women to each man, it is only natural to find more of the former
at any given age. The infants are not weaned for three or four years and
during that period the woman it is said refuses to lie with her husband.
Another wife therefore, cohabits with the man while the first rears her
child. Polygamy is thus a custom which the missionaries find very
difficult to change. The State however, refuses to recognise more than
one wife and many of the soldiers are legitimately married by the
officials qualified to perform that office.
Much palm wine is consumed by the natives for its manufacture is very
simple. A gourd is tied to an upper branch of a palm which is then
tapped and the sap drops into the vessel. If this is left all night,
fermentation takes place without artificial aid, and at midday a kind of
highly scented alcoholic cider is produced which however, is acid and
undrinkable by the evening. This natural wine must therefore, be drunk
on the day of fermentation and does not improve on keeping.
What a useful tree the palm is! Its trunk, branches and leaves are fine
building materials; its matting forms beds and furniture; its oil gives
light, acts as butter or lard for cooking, makes soap when mixed with
banana juice or an alkali, and indeed, can be used for all the purposes
of oil; it forms wine, and the heart of the plant is most excellent
eating as a salad. Therefore given meat, the palm tree and the banana,
and a town can be built and its inhabitants fed. Both sexes smoke a
great deal of tobacco and also Indian hemp, which latter has however,
been found so injurious that it is illegal to grow the plant but the
native tobacco is not at all unpleasant when smoked in a pipe.
On August 22nd we take a trip up a small river to the East of Ikoko
which winds through dense forest and is evidently full of fish, for at
intervals, barricades are erected which stretch right across the river,
with the exception of a small space to allow canoes to go up and down.
In the middle or one side however, an opening is left which can be
closed by lowering one of the bamboo nets heavily weighted, vertically
down. Platforms are erected ten or twelve feet high to raise or lower
these nets and the whole structure is ingeniously and strongly put
together. The fish are thus allowed to swim up and are then enclosed in
a section of the river, when they are easily caught in baskets. All the
riverside population engages in fishing. On the way I shot a toucan,
which must have weighed ten or twelve pounds, with number five shot
which happened to be in the gun at the time. The bird however, was hit
in the head and breast. The natives at once plucked it and having
scarcely warmed it at the fire greedily eat it.
At a village called Bokoto a boy was brought to me with his right hand
missing, for I was very anxious to see an original of the photos which
are so common in England. I was indeed beginning to despair of finding
one at all for most of the white men had never seen a case, none of the
natives understood what I wished and hitherto no missionary knew where
one was to be found. Here however, was a boy with his right hand missing
and it had evidently been removed by a sharp instrument, but not I think
by a surgeon, for the scars were not such as follow amputation at the
wrist joint. Mr. Clarke acted as interpreter and the following
conversation took place.
--When was this done?
--During the rubber war when the boy was an infant.
--Who did it?
--The soldiers who came from Bofiji.
--Why did they come?
--Because the natives had not collected rubber.
--Where did this take place?
--In the country behind Bikoro and the mother was killed at the same
time as she was carrying away her infant.
Neither the date nor the age of the boy is known, but he appears to be
12 or 13 years of age and his name is Imputela. Although therefore, no
proof can be adduced, for the child of course remembers nothing and only
knows what he has been told, there is a possibility that a native
soldier may have cut off his hand. On the other hand, it may have been
injured or cut by a native chief. I mention this case at length, because
it was the only one I ever found in a tour of several thousand miles in
the interior of the Congo State, although everyone knew I was very
anxious to see such cases. On our way back we call at Inkaka another
fishing village. Behind it a few of the Batoir tribe had temporarily
settled. They are very savage and uncivilised and lead a wandering life,
hunting game. Sometimes they act as professional hunters and are
employed by villagers to find them food. One young fellow was armed
with a bow and wooden arrows poisoned at the tip and carefully wrapped
in a leaf. The poison is simply the decomposing matter of dead men or
animals. As long as this is wet, it is most deadly but loses its
strength when dried. For this reason only is the tip wrapped in a leaf.
Death has followed within a few hours of being struck with a poisoned
arrow and this is only to be expected, for we know how dangerous it is
for surgeons when they wound themselves during an examination of the
dead body. On the way home we found a snake in the water and shot it
just at the very moment it had seized a fish and was holding it in its
mouth. Just as we were picking this out another similar one appeared and
this met the same fate. They were bright green in colour and had small
heads, but one measured 93 and the other 90 inches in length.
On August 23rd we visit Bikoro a large State plantation of coffee, cocoa
and rubber, situated on the bank of the Lake about eight or nine miles
from Ikoko. It is conducted by Mr. Monaie, a Swiss gentleman, who has
had much experience in horticulture. Here nature has been closely
imitated but improved upon. First the undergrowth was cleared from the
forest and then the native rubber vines were planted and have commenced
to climb the trees. These are not tapped until they are ten years old,
for although it is possible to obtain the rubber milk before, the vines
are killed or seriously injured if they are cut when too young. Some
rubber shrubs from Brazil have also been planted, but do not flourish as
well as the native kind. Altogether more than a 1000 hectares have been
planted and the various plantations are connected by well kept paths.
More than three hundred natives are employed and the work in the shade
of the forest must be very pleasant. They are housed in a series of huts
in a clearing, which are kept scrupulously clean. There are fifteen or
twenty soldiers here who act as policemen--for only the big towns have a
separate Police force--and guard the rubber and ivory stores. Gum copal
is also found in the district in large quantities and in various
qualities and colours. The brick houses for the two officials face the
lake and gardens have been laid out which are very neat and tidy, the
whole place, although much smaller, rivalling even Irebu in beauty.
Next day I return to Irebu in the _Florida_ a small stern wheel steamer,
and find a welcome mail from home and also a permit to shoot game from
Boma. This latter is an imposing document of nine articles and gives
permission to shoot adult male animals but not female if accompanied by
their young, or, if possible to distinguish them, even if alone. The
animals named are, _hippopotames, baffles, antilopes, gazelles, ibex,
chevrotains, les divers sangliers, petits singes, outardes, francolains,
perdreaux, pintades_ and other game birds. Permission is also given to
kill _in a scientific manner_. one elephant in the close season. It will
thus be seen that the State is determined to protect the wild animals of
the forest from indiscriminate slaughter and stringent laws regulating
hunting are decreed from time to time.
[Illustration: THE UBANGI RIVER.]