Yakoma to Djabir.
Yakoma is built on the banks of the Uele just before it joins with the
Bomu to form the Ubangi. The voyage up that river from its entrance into
the Congo to its source here occupied seven weeks of which half the
time, however, was spent in State Posts. Canoe travelling is terribly
tiring, although one merely sits still in a hammock chair all day, and
it has not been by any means comfortable camping in the forest during or
after the daily tornado. Still the trip has been very interesting for
this is one of the least known parts of the world and the people are
probably the least civilised.
This experience brought home the fact with something like a shock that
human nature is much the same everywhere and that if the savage leads
the life practically of an animal, he is at the same time not very much
unlike modern civilised man. He does not wear clothes, but he is very
vain and adorns himself with beads and bangles, his hair dressing
requiring hours of patient labour. He is often as pleased at being
photographed as a young fashionable beauty and, if a warrior, is as
proud of the paint which shows he has killed some one in battle, as a
soldier is of his medals. He is frankly commercial in his dealings and
as anxious to say what he thinks will please his guest as the most
tactful of society's hostesses. He is as keen to win in a canoe race as
any undergrad in his college boat and is a genuine and true sportsman.
He is very jealous as a husband and devoted as a father, characteristics
common both to animals and to the most intellectual of men. He is, as a
Chief, by no means hard on his subjects although his punishments are
barbarous and his sense of justice not greatly developed. He eats human
flesh but not the diseased livers of geese and he prefers his meat
decomposing as some like their game. He takes no more thought for the
morrow than many civilised people who live from hand to mouth without
considering the future and finally he sees the world from his point of
view and has little desire to discuss that of others. Mr. Van Luttens
the Chef du Poste kindly meets us and places a house at our disposal. We
then read our mail, the first news from home since July, and glance
through the newspapers. The country around Yakoma is flat and as there
is no sign of forest, the plantation consists of rubber bushes only.
Much rice is also grown here and at one time a large amount of coffee
was raised from plants brought from Liberia but these have since died.
The native coffee, however, does well and is certainly as good as any in
the world, so it seems to be wiser to cultivate this and to leave
foreign varieties alone.
This is one of the very few places in the Congo where the cows give
more milk than is required by their calves, and where butter can be
made. The farm is well stocked with horses and cattle for breeding
purposes which function they fulfil very well, the foals and calves
looking strong and healthy. All the Chiefs in the neighbourhood come and
call upon us. They are all very rich, powerful and loyal in this
district and delight in wearing European clothes or uniforms. One of
them was dressed in an old naval uniform with an antique sword and
another as a captain in the State service although he had no right to
wear the uniform of the Force Publique at all. Just opposite Yakoma on
the opposite bank of the Uele is a village for retired soldiers where
they have their own gardens and plantations and live a life of ease but
are not pensioned. The term of service is for three or seven years with
option of signing for another three years after the long period with
increased pay and another three years if desired after that. It is not
at all uncommon to find sergeants who have served ten or twelve years
and they are always very responsible men.
As usual the people offer us many native articles in return for cloth
and we add to our already large collection.
As there is no big game near at hand I decide to make a collection of
small birds, of which there are very many here, with most beautiful
plumage. Unfortunately I have no smaller shot than 5-1/2 and it is
difficult to avoid damaging the smaller varieties. However, by firing
with the full choke barrel at about fifty yards two or three pellets
almost always hit even the smallest birds. A very good method of
preserving them is to inject formol into the bodies which at once
stiffen out and become rigid in any position they are placed. Birds can
thus be set with the wings extended in a flying position or as if
roosting, the effect being much prettier than any which can be obtained
by stuffing. If is however, necessary to arrange them and inject very
soon after they are dead for if rigor mortis once sets in, it is
impossible to alter the position assumed by the head and wings. There
were great numbers of beautiful birds in the plantation and it was easy
to obtain over a dozen different specimens in less than an hour[3].
Red-legged partridges are also found here in the rice, but as in Europe
this variety will not rise and one may walk all day hearing the familiar
call on all sides and only obtain one or two shots.
On October 19th I had my first attack of fever, which was not severe and
soon yielded to phenacetin. It was however, rather a disappointment for
I had taken five grains of quinine regularly every day since arriving in
the Congo. The fever ran the same course that it used to do in India ten
years ago but as it only once appeared in England during that period, I
hoped it had gone for ever. Hundreds of mosquitoes hummed around with
the ambitious idea presumably of carrying the germs to some other
unfortunate.
[Illustration: THE RIVER NEAR BANZYVILLE.]
As we shall now leave the French frontier and travel altogether in State
territory we send the Senegalese escort down the river back to their
station at Mobaie. The sergeant who was in charge was a most responsible
man and was evidently held in great respect by the Chiefs of the French
villages through which we passed. One day a Chief was greatly
disturbed because two men from his village had migrated into State
territory. Although this is against the law it is apparently not a very
unusual occurrence. Generally these emigrants have committed some crime
and are fleeing from justice. One Chief, however, at Banzyville stated
he had left the State territory because he objected to working rubber
and had returned because he objected still more to paying the tax in the
French Congo. It is impossible indeed to say which side gains by this
emigration but it is very evident that it is not altogether one-sided
and not great enough to affect seriously the size of the population of
either the French or Free State Congo.
In Yakoma the people are paid chiefly by beads and salt and it is
interesting to watch the long string of workers filing to the office of
the Chef du Poste on Saturday, each one carrying a plate, a tin can or
some other receptacle in which to receive his wages.
On October 22nd we decide to pack up and move on. The skins of the
larger birds the toucans, razor-bills and serpent birds are keeping very
badly but those of the monkeys, leopards and antelopes are in better
condition. It is however, doubtful if they will last, for to preserve
them it is necessary to hang them out in the sun every day which is
obviously impossible when travelling. As a small native war is in
progress higher up the Uele, Mr. Van Luttens kindly arranges to
accompany us for the first three days in order to ensure that relays of
paddlers shall be forthcoming for many of those gentlemen have forsaken
the wooden blade for the iron lance. We are therefore a large party on
October 23rd when we leave Yakoma in a drizzling rain, the remains of
the usual nightly tornado. Although the paddlers wear no clothes and do
not hesitate to jump into the water at any moment it is curious that
they dislike rain very much and never work so well as when a hot sun is
shining. The least diminution of temperature indeed affects them very
much and they sit drowsily over the fire hugging themselves, being
aroused to action only with difficulty. We number now about two hundred
including the thirty soldiers and armed capitas, but as the current is
not very strong we make good headway through somewhat flat and
uninteresting country until we arrive at Prekissa, a large village on
the north bank of the Uele.
Here we were received by the Chief of the Abira tribe, a great potentate
who sat in a long hammock chair surrounded by courtiers and ministers
squatting on the ground and holding spears of state on each side of him.
Having welcomed us he escorted us through the village which is of great
extent and well arranged. Opposite his square hut or palace is the Guard
House in which are a few soldiers armed with cap-guns for he has some
independent authority and the power of life and death in certain limited
cases. Behind the palace are many rows of round huts close together. Not
a soul is visible or a sound heard for these are the quarters of the
wives of the Chief and except the official lady who acts as legal queen
none are presented to the white men. The present Chief is a keen
commercial man and understands the advantage of being on good terms with
the Slate for he has a large rubber plantation and also works metals.
The blast furnace is most interesting. It is simply a pit about two
feet wide and deep formed by banking up clay and earth for several feet
around which has been dried by the great heat of the furnace into a hard
stony substance. Indeed at first sight the pit looks like a hole dug in
solid rock. In it is placed iron stone and wood charcoal which is
lighted and a blast made by several pairs of bellows formed of antelope
skins. The molten metal is not run off but remains with the slag in the
pit until it is cool when the latter is chipped away and the shapeless
mass of iron is ready to be worked into spears and lances by the
blacksmiths. Probably this method is a very ancient one indeed, and it
is curious that it should resemble so closely the modern Bessemer
process for making steel. Having walked through the village we return to
our camp on the river bank and the Chief presents spears. He then
proceeds to ask for anything he takes a fancy to in return. We had
already given him cloth much more valuable than his lances when he
suddenly demanded tobacco. I gave him the contents of my pouch and he
then asked for that also. He next asked me to give him my jacket and
finally wished to buy my cap for two ivory finger rings. To receive a
present from a Congo chief is thus a very expensive honour. He then sat
down and smoked while we eat, for it is contrary to custom to ask a
native to dine at the same table as a white man.
We start again next morning at 6 a.m. The banks of the river are now
assuming an equatorial appearance for we are in the third degree of
latitude and palms grow in great profusion but the country is flat and
uninteresting. About midday we land at Gembele, a large village with an
extensive plantation. The Chief is a young, good-looking man with
refined European features and a very gentlemanly manner. He owns a large
island, many iron and copper mines and is very wealthy. When one was
introduced to him he pointed with pride to the State medal he was
wearing round his neck, a medal which is given to all Chiefs of whose
election or succession the Government approves. An important feature of
this village is a round enclosure built of trunks of trees and roofed
with leaves which serves as a Chamber of State wherein discussions take
place and justice is administered. Gembele only succeeded his father a
year ago and among other responsibilities he has to take care of
numerous wives, step mothers and aunts, the legacies of his father and
uncles. They seem, however, to be well-disciplined for they were sunning
themselves when we suddenly appeared round a corner but at a wave of the
hand of the boy of the Chief, they all rushed for cover and not one
turned round to try and catch a glimpse of the white men. Possibly they
have peep-holes in the walls of their huts for it would be too much to
expect them to have no feminine curiosity. Gembele is evidently
respected by his people but he has a somewhat serious look as though he
felt the cares of his position heavily. There is a strong rapid opposite
the village so we allow the canoes to go up empty and enter them again
above it. It is now intensely hot and progress is slow but we reach the
village of Sembile before sundown and pitch our tents in a clearing. The
huts here are still round and the people practically nude but the custom
of wearing beads has disappeared and very few are painted.
There is a bright moon which acts here as a clock by night as the sun
does by day. As the latter passes practically straight overhead it is
astonishingly easy to tell the time within half an hour after a very
little practice. It is more difficult to use the moon as the point of
the hour-hand and requires some care. This, however, is the only means
the sentry has of determining 5 a.m. when we wish to be roused for he
could not read a watch.
We start again at daylight and ascend the river to Voro where we land
with all baggage for the rapids here are so strong that it is necessary
to walk for several miles. We therefore start in a procession of more
than one hundred people along a narrow foot-path while the crews take up
the empty canoes. The guide leads and I follow next, hoping to shoot any
game that may exist in the neighbourhood before it is disturbed by the
bearers. It is, however, speedily apparent that with the exception of
birds it will not be possible to see any game at all for the grass is
very thick and about eight feet high. After a time my gun weighs heavy
so I give it to a bearer and a moment after two fine pheasants rise a
few yards away. All around is evidence of game. Great tracts through the
grass where the stately elephant has passed to drink at the river, spoor
of buffalo and antelope at every water course and yet not a sign of life
now for the sun is high up and a hundred bearers are yelling and singing
close behind. After walking for about two hours we reach forest and
enter its welcome shade. A small stream prattles cheerfully along under
the trees and as the path several times passes through it we keep our
feet comfortably cool. About 2 p.m. we reach a village beautifully
situated on a slope in the midst of dense forest. This is protected on
all sides by a strong stockade twelve feet high for leopards abound and
when game is difficult to find do not hesitate to enter villages and
carry off people. Here we halt for lunch and then on again through the
forest full of cuckoo pheasants. These are not much more difficult to
shoot than hand reared birds at home although they fly higher to clear
the tall trees. They do not, however, appear to travel very quickly but
this may be a delusion as it is difficult to judge distance in Africa.
No other game birds come within range. Late in the afternoon we reach
Bogosi, a large clean and well arranged village. The Chief is a pleasant
fellow perfectly willing to sell us food for our party; and monkeys,
tortoises or anything else we may desire for ourselves. Here we change
all our paddlers the present ones going back to their villages. As the
tribe is at war with one higher up the river, Mr. Van Luttens thought it
might be difficult to obtain paddlers here and so came himself. With his
aid, however, the difficulty vanished for he arranged with the Chief
that the paddlers who took us to Djabir should not be called upon to do
any more work for the State for nine months. That is to say that the
enforced forty hours a month would work out at six or seven days
paddling in nine months and as each man was liberally paid in cloth no
one could possibly say that he was used hardly. Having bathed in the
swiftly running river we dined in the enclosure which did duty as the
Council Chamber and then thoroughly tired turned in early.
It was not until 9 a.m. in the morning that we could make a start for
all the baggage had to be fitted into the canoes and the paddlers
arranged in their places. The first day with new crews is always a
trouble but this is never repeated for the native has a good memory and
every bale, bag, gun and even small articles like books are taken from
the canoes each evening and put back in identically the same place in
the morning. This is remarkable when one thinks that some hundreds of
separate articles have to be placed in one of seven or eight different
canoes in one particular place.
The river is heavily in flood for this is the end of the wet season and
the current is very strong indeed. Soon we come to the first rapid and
one of the men drops his pole overboard at the critical moment. The
other two, however, hold the canoe up by pressing against the rocks
while the water whirls past within an inch of the edge of the little
craft. At a word from the capita one of the paddlers jumps into the
rushing water, rescues the pole and lands safely with it on the bank,
fifty or sixty yards below. All the Sangos swim like salmon but cannot
of course leap up rapids. They however, swim so powerfully that they
steer clear of the rocks and reach the side even in the swiftest
current. On we go slowly struggling up rapid after rapid and when it is
impossible to paddle and pole the canoes against the stream the crew
stand on the rocks and lift them up. Sometimes the drop is three feet at
one spot and it is perfectly marvellous how these men can thus stand
waist deep in the water. Naturally we ship a good deal of water which
wets everything through and through but the crew take this as a matter
of course and bale it out at intervals while the boys take care the
firearms are not injured. The amount of actual work the crew do must be
enormous yet they never seem fatigued and sing as lustily at the end as
at the beginning of the day. At length we pass the island of Mutemu and
seek for a place for a camp. There is not much choice for the forest is
very dense here and it is necessary in every place to clear the
undergrowth before the tents can be pitched. Then fires are lighted and
all are soon asleep.
We start again at daybreak and at once commence the fight with the
rapids. Soon after a Chief appears in a canoe, and having explained that
he is at war with a neighbouring tribe hopes it will not inconvenience
the white man. On being asked why he is fighting he states that he has
lost two women and thinks they have been stolen. I then told him war was
a mistake and I hoped he would make peace as soon as possible, at which
he looked a little surprised and answered that he expected to be
successful and capture several women as well as men.
The navigation of the Uele at this part of its course is so difficult
that there are very few villages on its banks for the native who lives
near a stream hardly ever walks and he will not settle unless he can
travel by canoe. For this reason there is often no pathway at all
between villages only a mile or two apart on the river bank. The few
people there are have probably never seen a white man for as far as one
can ascertain no one has been up here for ten years. However, where
there is a village the Chief comes on board and presents a chicken.
About midday the kitchen canoe paddles by with fire alight and pot
boiling. Soon after Chikaia shouts: _Le cuisinier est tombé dans l'eau_,
and a little way ahead is seen a canoe apparently upside down close to
the bank and twelve or fifteen black heads bobbing up and down in the
water. Mountmorres is just ahead in his canoe and easily within reach
but to my surprise his paddlers suddenly turn away from the bank and
make for mid-stream evidently straining every muscle. Turning round I
order my crew to pull rapidly to the rescue but to my disgust they also
turn into mid-stream and take no notice of my command. Having asked
Chikaia the meaning of this he replied: _La petite bête qui mange
l'homme_. Chikaia's knowledge of zoology and French being somewhat
limited every animal is for him either a _petite_. or a _grande
bête_. The information was therefore not very valuable for it was
impossible to imagine what small beast was in the habit of eating
people. Thinking, however, of a crocodile I took my rifle but Chikaia
laughed and said: "_Non, non, la petite._" By this time we were well out
in mid-stream opposite the kitchen canoe which--to add to the
mystery--was not upset at all. The cook, the crew, the goats and the
fowls were all, however, in the water. No danger was apparent for the
crew were swimming at their ease and hoisting the live stock back into
the canoe. It is useless being astonished at anything in Africa and
there was obviously nothing to do but sit still while the crew raced
along as fast as they could paddle. In a few minutes they pulled into
the bank and there we waited for the kitchen which presently appeared
with the cook reclining in the arms of one of the crew and moaning: "_Je
mart, je mort_." After a rapid examination, however, I could find
nothing at all the matter. At length we discover the truth. His canoe
had run into a large hornet's nest hanging from the branch of a tree and
he had been stung in the head. To avoid further damage, he and the whole
of the crew not only jumped into the water themselves but threw all the
live stock overboard as well, for the natives believe that the sting of
this insect kills and they fear it more than an encounter with a wild
beast. The cook was therefore in a highly hysterical condition and no
doubt in considerable pain also although no mark of a sting could be
discovered, amidst his thick curly black hair. Still I took him into my
canoe, gave him whisky internally and bathed his head with permanganate
of potassium and he was quite well next day. After this delay we
struggle on until just before dark we reached the worst rapid on the
river the Kandoko Falls, up which the canoes are lifted inch by inch.
Everything was already wet so the fact that a terrific tornado burst
before we could pitch the tents added but little to our discomfort.
On again at daybreak and after one or two ineffectual attempts to
negotiate the last strong rapid on this piece of the river we conquer it
and reach smooth water. In the course of the morning a canoe intercepts
us in which is a native dressed as a State capita and armed with a gun.
He says he has been sent by a white man to tell us not to sound our
tom-toms as it will attract the hostile tribe and they will attack our
camp. We ask for the letter for white men never send verbal messages by
natives and when it was not forthcoming became suspicious that our
visitor was spying our strength. We told him that we were peaceful
travellers, that we should beat our tom-toms as much as we liked and
camp where we wished and that if the tribe attacked us we should defend
ourselves. Probably our rifles made an impression for we were not
molested at all during the day and at night camped in the village of the
hostile tribe. Our paddlers indeed fraternised with the enemy, against
whom they would have been fighting if they had not been employed by us.
[Illustration: THE SULTAN OF DJABIR.]
The usual tornado burst in the night and we did not make a start until
7 a.m. when we continued up the river and passed several villages before
2 p.m. when Djabir came in sight. The view of the town from the distance
is very pretty indeed. In the centre is an old fort with four towers now
partly demolished and on each side the houses of the officials
stretching along the river bank. Here we land two hours afterwards and
feel that at last we shall have a night's rest without fear that our
habitation will be blown away or soaked with water.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Now in the British Museum (Natural History).