WITH THE BANKUTU CANNIBALS
Although we had been able to obtain porters for our journey with the
help of the head of the secret society, the march to the Sankuru was
not without its difficulties. It was full of the little annoyances
inseparable from travel in out-of-the-way places. To begin with, the day
was intensely hot, and the hours of marching through the plains proved
rather trying; in addition to fatigue we were soon inconvenienced by
thirst, for the porter who was carrying our reserve of water had placed
it in a large bottle which contained some dirty oil, thereby rendering it
quite undrinkable, a fact which we did not discover in time to husband
the small supply we were able to carry in our own water-bottles. Then on
arriving at the village of Zappo-Lubumba, where we camped for the night,
there arose a good deal of disputing between our Bushongo porters and
the Basongo-Meno of the village, for the latter flatly declined to sell
our men any food or to show them where clear drinking water could be
obtained. This led to our having rather a stormy interview with Zappo.
We told him that we knew perfectly well there was plenty of food in the
place, and that we were ready to pay a good price for it; he replied
that he had told his people to trade with ours, but they had refused
to do so, and he suggested that we should take the food by force.
This, of course, we could not do, for we should at once have ruined
our reputation as peaceful travellers and should very likely have got
the worst of a “brush-up” with the warlike Basongo-Meno, so we had to
be content with Zappo’s promise that he would do his best to arrange
matters. Meantime we told our Bushongo to be careful to avoid any breach
of the peace. Shortly after we had turned in, Jones aroused us with the
pleasing intelligence that every one of our porters had bolted, leaving
us without a single man to convey our loads the remaining few miles to
the river, entirely-dependent upon the goodwill of the Basongo-Meno,
whose attitude towards us was anything but friendly. Nothing was to
be gained by making a fuss in the middle of the night, so we slept on
till morning, and then once more had a stormy interview with Zappo. We
put the matter straight to him. His people had treated our porters so
badly that they had been obliged to run away, and therefore the people
of Zappo-Lubumba had practically prevented our passage through their
country; this amounted to an act of hostility which would arouse the
ire of the Government; the garrison of Bena Dibele was not far off, and
the soldiers there could easily come to our assistance; we did not want
to get any one into trouble, but we must proceed at once to the river;
what was Zappo prepared to do? Now Zappo himself had never been in the
least unfriendly to us, and I am sure he genuinely regretted the turn
affairs had taken, for he at once promised to do his best, and then
explained to us the difficulty of his own position. As at Misumba so
at Lubumba, the real chief and the chief recognised by the Government
were two different individuals. Zappo was merely an elder who, like
Pongo-Pongo, posed as chief before any white man who might pass through
the village, and possessed no authority over the people whatsoever.
He told us that his position was an impossible one, and begged of us
to set matters right if we met any Government official, for he was
sick of always risking trouble to himself which might at any moment be
brought about by an act of violence on the part of people over whom he
had no control. We told him that he had our fullest sympathy, but that
the matter that really concerned us was how our loads were to get to
the river; when they had been safely carried there we might think more
about Zappo’s troubles than we had time to do at the moment. Zappo then
left us, and after a good deal of talking he induced the people of the
village to carry our baggage on to Gandu, or rather to a point on the
river a little above the fuel-station, whence it was conveyed to its
destination in canoes. With the exception of two straps nothing whatever
was stolen, so we considered that we had come well out of a situation
which might have ended in unpleasantness. The village of Zappo-Lubumba
is too easily reached from the Government post of Bena Dibele for us to
have anticipated any actual attack upon our persons, but the attitude
of the Basongo-Meno clearly showed that only the proximity of troops
prevented them from plundering us and incidentally cutting our throats.
We knew that we might have to wait several days at Gandu for the arrival
of the Kasai Company’s steamer, which was to carry Hardy down-stream to
Dima on his way to the coast, so we settled down to make ourselves as
comfortable as circumstances would permit. The first thing we did was
to rig up a large “dining-room” of mosquito netting, for our previous
visit to the fuel-station had shown us that some such protection was
absolutely necessary. I have never stayed in a place where mosquitoes
are so numerous or so aggressive as at Gandu. To sit out of doors after
sundown would have been quite impossible. Our tents were pitched close
up to the edge of the river bank, which in the rainy season is about
twelve feet high above the water’s edge, and in the mornings the inside
of the ends of the tents which faced the water were simply covered
with swarms of mosquitoes, to avoid disturbing which it was necessary
to dress with caution. We used literally to run from the shelter of
our big net to our tents when we went to bed, and then used to turn in
without lighting a candle for fear that a light might attract still more
of the fever-spreading insects, which must breed in countless millions
in the forest swamps which lie close to the fuel-station. So bad are
the mosquitoes at Gandu that natives staying for a night there who are
unprovided with cotton shelters under which to sleep, often prefer to
find some comparatively dry spot in the forest and lie down out of doors
at the risk of being killed by leopards to being eaten alive by the
mosquitoes in the wood-cutters’ huts by the river. Gandu, therefore, is
by no means pleasant by night, and by day it is scarcely more desirable,
for the tsetse-fly, the bearer of the deadly sleeping sickness, is
very prevalent, and one can hardly avoid being frequently bitten by it
if one does not take advantage of the protection of mosquito nets.
Our net was a large rectangular one, under which several people could
dine, so we spent most of our time beneath it, but the heat at Gandu is
usually very great, and at midday in our mosquito-proof shelter it was
well-nigh unbearable. Our stay at the fuel-station was not a particularly
pleasant one; but although we had no work to prevent us from brooding
over our discomforts, our time was fully occupied in providing fresh
meat for the table, the people of Zappo-Lubumba having declined to sell
us any poultry. We depended entirely upon our guns for our food. The
fuel-station lies in a little clearing about sixty yards square on the
left or south bank of the river, and is surrounded by very dense forest,
in which, as I have said, are a number of swamps. The river is here about
half a mile wide, and in mid-stream there lies an island, half of which
is covered with impenetrable forest for the most part under water, while
the other half consists of a sandbank. Immediately upon our arrival we
inquired of the wood-choppers if any wild-duck frequented this island,
and we were rather unpleasantly surprised to learn that they were only
to be found there at rare intervals although a few could daily be seen
flying up and down the river. We therefore decided to place a wooden
decoy-duck which we had brought with us at the end of the sandbank in
the hope of attracting the birds to the island. We found only one canoe
at Gandu, and that was a small one which leaked badly, while the only
wood-chopper who showed any desire to help us in our shooting was quite
the worst paddler and least intelligent native I have ever had the
misfortune to meet. He contrived to make the canoe roll about to an
incredible extent whenever one wanted to attempt a long shot with a rifle
at a crane or some similar wader, and used to give us advice at the top
of his voice just as we were endeavouring to approach within shot of a
particularly wary bird. We found our decoy-duck a very useful asset. With
its aid we managed to attract quite a number of wild-duck to the island,
and we soon came to the conclusion that the fact that one’s food supply
depends upon one’s shooting considerably increases one’s percentage of
kills. But we were not able to secure duck every day. Often we had to
be content with cranes. The meat from the breasts of these birds is
really not bad, and “crane steaks” became quite a favourite dish with us.
Neither Torday nor I are great anglers, but Luchima, our Batetela cook,
used occasionally to catch some fish, though he complained bitterly of
my tackle, saying that he would much prefer a primitive native hook to
those which had been supplied by a well-known London shop. His method
of fishing was to tie his line to a stout stick and attempt to jerk the
fish on to the bank directly he felt a “bite”; another way of catching
the larger varieties of fish is to fix the end of the line (a stout one)
to a strong but pliable sapling growing at the water’s edge; the hook is
then thrown out into the stream baited with the entrails of a bird. When
the fish takes the hook the bendable tree gives sufficiently to his pull
to prevent the line being broken by the jerk, and in this way one man can
look after several lines.
[Illustration: A BASONGO-MENO WARRIOR.]
[Illustration: OUR CAMP AT GANDU.]
There is no lack of animal and bird life at Gandu. Elephants are said to
visit the Sankuru at this point during the dry season, when the swamps
inland are practically dried up, and hippopotami are to be found at no
great distance from the wood post. Curiously enough we did not see a
single crocodile in the neighbourhood, although the word “Gandu” means
crocodile in the Chituba trade-language. Pigs are very frequently to be
heard by night splashing through the swamps close to the fuel-stations,
but owing to the density of the forest it is almost impossible to
approach these animals; leopards exist in the forest, but are not very
numerous. Upon the island opposite to our camp we saw a number of tracks
of the sitatunga antelope, but we never succeeded in getting a shot at
this somewhat rare beast. The natives assured us that the animals were
in the habit of swimming over from the right bank of the river to the
island, where it is possible that they may have found a certain herb
with a salt taste, in search of which I have known buffaloes to swim the
Sankuru. Monkeys of several varieties are, of course, very plentiful in
the woods, and we used to shoot specimens of them, both for the sake of
collecting their skins and in order to supply our boys with their meat,
of which most natives are very fond; but Gandu is richer in birds than in
beasts. Most of the varieties of aquatic birds that frequent the Sankuru
are to be seen in a day at Gandu. Cranes, storks, herons, marabouts,
egrets, spur-winged plovers, duck, moor-fowl, ibis, and brilliantly
coloured kingfishers are only a few of the many species that are to
be found on the island or along the river banks, while the woods are
swarming with countless feathered inhabitants. We therefore spent our
time, when not actually shooting for the pot, in preparing the skins of
birds to be sent home. After a few days’ stay at Gandu our old friend
the _Velde_ appeared on her way down-stream, and Hardy left us to begin
his journey home. He had seen a good deal of native life, and took with
him a great number of sketches and notes of people and scenery to be
worked up into finished pictures in Europe. He much regretted, I think,
that circumstances would not permit him to stay on and undertake with us
a journey in the equatorial forest; but he had not been in particularly
good health, and, on the whole, perhaps it is a good thing for him that
he was unable to remain and have to endure the effects of bad climate and
shortage of food which we were to go through before the end of the year.
Several days elapsed before a steamer going up-river arrived to take
Torday and me to Bena Dibele. During these days we managed to induce one
or two Basongo-Meno fishermen to visit our camp, and even to take us out
shooting in their canoes. Zappo himself came several times to see us, and
upon one occasion took us out to shoot a hippopotamus. His paddling was
of a very different kind to that of the Baluba wood-chopper who usually
acted as our ferryman. Zappo was absolutely at home in his canoe. The
craft was a small one, and when Torday and I both accompanied Zappo her
gunwale was very little above the water; but with such a paddler we had
no fear of a ducking. In common with all the natives of the Sankuru,
Zappo propelled his canoe in a standing position, keeping her level with
the pressure of his feet. As he approached the hippo he kept his boat
absolutely steady, sending her forward swiftly yet so smoothly that one
could scarcely distinguish the strokes of the paddle that moved her. In
addition to this Zappo was as cool as one could possibly wish, and one
was never worried with the thought that he would spoil one’s chances by
talking or moving just as one was about to take a shot. I have never
been out shooting with a better paddler than Zappo. Fortunately we were
able to reward him, for we killed a hippo about two miles above our
camp; but as we shot the animal in the evening we were unable to find it
when it rose to the surface of the water, and the steamer arriving next
morning to take us up the river, we saw no more of the beast, which, we
subsequently learned, was found later in the day by the Basongo-Meno.
The voyage to Bena Dibele passed off without any incident, and we reached
the Government post on the right bank of the Sankuru in the afternoon
of the third day after our start from Gandu. The place is built in
a clearing in the forest on the bank of the river, and is a typical
example of a Congolese military station. It was under the command of a
_sous-officier_ of a Belgian cavalry regiment, who had already served for
several years in the Congo, assisted by a young civilian. The _chef de
poste_ had about forty native soldiers and a similar number of workmen,
who cut up and packed the rubber brought in by the local natives in
payment of taxes; he was in charge of a large district along the shores
of the Sankuru, which extended some distance to the north and south
of the river. The civilian’s duties consisted largely in managing the
transport of stores and rubber to and from the five other Government
posts which lie to the north in the great forest, in the _domaine
privée_ of the King of the Belgians.
The buildings at Bena Dibele consisted of the bungalows of the _chef de
poste_ and his assistant, two spare bungalows for officials staying at
the post on their way to stations in the forest, two large rubber-drying
houses, a storehouse for trade goods, a guard-room, and villages for
the soldiers and the workmen. The place was, like nearly all Congolese
stations, very neatly kept, and lying on the shores of a fine open reach
of the Sankuru it is quite picturesque. Its importance arises from the
fact that it is the base whence supplies are sent into the southern
part of the _domaine privée_. The Lukenye River flows parallel with
the Sankuru about five days’ march to the north, and upon this river
are situated the Government posts of Kole, Lodja, and Katako Kombe;
still further to the north are two more posts, Loto and Lomela. A small
steamer plies upon the Lukenye and takes some of the rubber from Kole
and Lodja down to Lac Leopold II.; but all stores are landed at Dibele
and sent up to these places from there, as the steamer service upon the
Sankuru is far safer and more regular than that on the swift and narrow
Lukenye. About three miles above Bena Dibele, also on the right bank of
the river, are situated very extensive rubber plantations belonging to
the Government, and under the control of a white official with an expert
knowledge of rubber planting. For every ton of wild rubber exported from
the _domaine_ a certain number of rubber vines are planted at Dibele,
the object being to compensate for the amount taken out of the country.
The plantations are in the forest, in which long lines of plants are
laid out, the place being cleaned of undergrowth for the purpose. The
number of vines already planted must be enormous, but about twenty years
must elapse, we were told, before any extensive output of rubber can
be expected from them. We were very courteously received by Monsieur
Lardot, the _chef de poste_ at the time of our visit, and although we
had been unable to inform him of our arrival in advance, he was quite
prepared to welcome us and to give us any help that lay in his power.
We therefore soon began to question him about the forest, and to form
plans for our projected journey. We desired to see something of the
Basongo-Meno who inhabit the right bank of the Sankuru, and also of the
Bankutu, a cannibal people of whose ferocity we had heard a great deal,
and who resided in the heart of the forest to the north-west of Dibele;
in addition to this, we wanted to study the primitive Batetela tribes of
the country to the north of the Lubefu River, and thus connect our work
with that already done in the neighbourhood of Mokunji. Monsieur Lardot
informed us that we could make the acquaintance of a Basongo-Meno chief
quite close to Dibele, in fact we could ask him to come and see us in
the station, but that we should have to proceed to the neighbourhood of
Kole in order to find the Bankutu. The road from Bena Dibele to Kole lay
through the country of these cannibals, and although they were quiet at
the time, Monsieur Lardot advised us to be very cautious in our dealings
with them, for they were treacherous in the extreme. He had heard that
around Kole they were worse than to the south of the Lukenye, but of
that part of the country he had no personal knowledge. During our stay at
Bena Dibele we met a young Norwegian artillery officer who had entered
the service of the Congo State, and who was proceeding from Lomela,
where he had been _chef de poste_, to take up an appointment at Lusambo.
This gentleman was able to give us a good deal of information as to the
whereabouts of the Batetela tribes, and he advised us to go on from
Kole to Lodja and there make a tour to the northward in the direction
of Lomela. He told us that we should find near the latter place a tribe
known as the Akela, of whose very existence nothing appears to have been
previously heard among scientists in Europe, so we were naturally anxious
to follow out the suggestion of a trip into their country.
Meantime we had to stay for a week or two at Bena Dibele to await the
arrival of some things we were expecting to reach us from Europe, and
which included a fresh supply of photographic materials without which we
could not well proceed. Torday occupied his time with the Basongo-Meno
chief mentioned to us by the _chef de poste_, but found him a rather
unsatisfactory person, who was usually in a state of intoxication
produced by drinking fermented palm wine. At this time I suffered a great
deal from fever. The climate of the equatorial forest, of which we were
now upon the southern edge, is extremely unhealthy, malaria being very
prevalent. I experienced a very bad attack at Dibele, and I think that
Torday and the _chef de poste_ really believed that they would have to
arrange a funeral, but I managed to shake off the fever, although during
the whole of our wanderings in the forest I was constantly worried by
returns of it. The civilian in charge of the transport at Bena Dibele
was also very ill during our visit, and we heard that one of the two
white men at Kole was at death’s door with black-water fever, but this
turned out to be an exaggeration. Owing to my illness I was unable to get
about much in the neighbourhood, while Torday was engaged upon his study
of the Basongo-Meno, and upon the compilation of some vocabularies of
various tribes which he obtained from the soldiers, most of whom belonged
to distant parts of the Congo territory, for the Government usually
employs its soldiers at some distance from their homes, so that a man
may not be called upon to serve against his own people, in which case he
would most probably desert. Although duiker and other small antelope and
pigs are common in the forest, I was too weak to undertake any shooting
excursions, and had to content myself with collecting one or two monkeys,
which I obtained without going outside the station. Life therefore at
Bena Dibele was not very interesting, and quite devoid of any incident
worth recording. We were able before starting upon our wanderings in
the forest to see matters adjusted with regard to the chieftainship of
Misumba and Zappo-Lubumba. We told the _chef de poste_ that at present
he never dealt directly with the real chief at either of these villages,
and he agreed with us that the arrangement of transacting Government
business with only a simple elder or councillor was unsatisfactory to all
concerned; he therefore summoned the real chiefs and the pseudo-chiefs
of both villages to a meeting at Bena Dibele. They came, accompanied
by a few retainers. The _chef de poste_ addressed them, pointing out
the absurdity of the existing situation, and suggesting that now the
real chiefs should assume their proper responsibility to the Government
for the conduct of their people, and should take over the emblem of
recognised authority—namely, the metal disc worn on a chain around the
neck. No one had the slightest objection to raise to this proposal; in
fact, the delight of Pongo-Pongo and Zappo at thus getting out of a
position which could scarcely fail sooner or later to become impossible,
was very genuine. After the medallions had been handed over to their
rightful owners, the _chef de poste_ began to give a warning to the
people of Zappo-Lubumba to be very careful in their treatment of the
porters of white men who passed through their village; inadvertently he
commenced to address his remarks to Zappo, but the latter stopped him at
once. “Do not caution me,” he said; “there is your recognised chief; deal
with him. I am well out of all these discussions now; I am a nobody.”
The only person who did not seem pleased at the arrangement was the real
chief of Lubumba, who doubtless had enjoyed the opportunity of making
himself disagreeable with no fear of the consequences; Isambula N’Genga
appeared rather gratified than otherwise at receiving the medallion,
which he probably thought would enhance his dignity a little, but, as
usual, he was too bored to take a very lively interest in the proceedings.
Despite the hospitable welcome we had received at Bena Dibele, we were
by no means sorry when the arrival of our goods by steamer set us free
to commence our journey into the forest and put an end to the period
of inactivity which we had spent in the Government station. We engaged
only about fifty porters to carry our loads to Kole, and as these
loads consisted to a great extent of trade goods wherewith to purchase
specimens _en route_, we had to reduce our personal baggage to the
smallest amount possible. We left the remainder of our belongings at
Bena Dibele. Knowing that we were about to enter a country where extreme
caution would be necessary in order to avoid hostility on the part of the
natives, we considered it wise to take as small a caravan as possible,
in order that we might be able the more easily to keep our eyes on our
porters and prevent them causing any trouble in the Bankutu villages. As
usual, too, we determined not to be accompanied by any armed followers,
whose presence might easily be taken as a declaration of war by the
suspicious people of the forest; our ten Albini rifles therefore remained
at Bena Dibele, still packed as they had been sent from Europe, and we
took with us no arms other than our shot guns and sporting rifles. We
were determined to endeavour always to spend the nights in the Bankutu
villages, however inhospitably we might be received, for we hoped in this
way to be able to gather a little information about the people, which
we could not hope to obtain by simply passing through their villages
and camping in the forest, although the latter course might possibly be
rather the safer one. We despatched our carriers overland to Pakoba,
a Basongo-Meno village near the Sankuru, about ten miles to the west
of Bena Dibele, while we ourselves proceeded down the river in a large
dug-out, disembarking on the right bank to walk on to Pakoba, which
lies a mile from the water. The bank, although the dry season had really
commenced, for the month of May was now well advanced, was extremely
swampy, but we were met by the chief of Pakoba, who showed us the least
muddy way to the village, and we arrived shortly before sundown, before
several of our loads had come from Dibele. The Basongo-Meno of Pakoba
were about as enthusiastic in their welcome to us as their kinsmen of
Zappo-Lubumba had been. They made excuses to avoid either giving or
selling us any chickens, and took very little interest in our arrival.
The lack of fresh food, however, did not inconvenience us, for we had
brought a crate full of live fowls from Dibele, and our men were all
supplied with a store of provisions, so the surliness of the Basongo-Meno
only resulted in loss of trade to the village, and the night passed
without any unpleasantness or discomfort.
Next day we marched for six hours to the Bankutu village of Twipolo.
The way lay in a northerly direction through forest, with scarcely a
clearing to break the monotony of walking hour after hour in the gloom
of the woods, unable to see ten yards on either hand. The ground was
rather uneven, the road (or rather narrow track) crossing as many as ten
little streams, each being at the bottom of a steep-sided ravine, the
climbing in and out of which was rather trying in the oppressive heat of
the forest, particularly for any one who, like myself, had only partially
recovered from the effects of a very sharp go of fever. On the way we
passed a deserted camp built by Batetela rubber collectors. These people
evidently believe in making themselves at home when out in the forest
in search of rubber. The huts constituting this camp (and several other
similar camps we subsequently passed through) were, of course, only of a
temporary nature, but they must have been quite as weatherproof, before
they had been allowed to fall in, as the houses occupied by the Batetela
in their villages. Each hut had a bed-frame raised several inches from
the ground, upon which mats had been placed to sleep on; and we saw
outside the houses, placed in circles around the spots where fires had
evidently been, stakes driven into the ground and lashed together in an
ingenious imitation of European deck chairs, the seats being made of
roughly plaited vines. But the most remarkable thing about the camp was
a scaffold or tower, about ten or twelve feet in height, situated in the
centre of the group of huts. We soon learned the reason for the existence
of this tower, the like of which we had not previously seen. The Batetela
who used the camps had left their own country, and in their search for
the rubber vine had entered the territory of the Bankutu.
Between the Batetela and the Bankutu a sort of desultory border warfare
is continually taking place, accordingly the Bankutu would be only
too glad of an opportunity to plunder a Batetela camp, killing any
defenceless people they might find therein, and carrying off their bodies
to be eaten in the village. While the Batetela are absent collecting
rubber, a guard is always left in camp, one of whom acts as a sentry
on the top of the scaffold, from which elevated position he can look
down upon the tangle of undergrowth surrounding the camp and, by
detecting the slightest movement of the bushes, apprise his comrades
of the stealthy approach of the Bankutu, which would not be noticed by
sentries standing on the ground before the enemy had come so near as to
be able to use his deadly poisoned arrows from behind the cover of the
underwood. Directly the sentry gives the alarm, the signalling drum,
already mentioned as being used around Mokunji, is beaten, sending the
alarm far away into the forest, and summoning the rubber collectors, who
hasten back to defend their camp. As a rule the Bankutu then make off,
for, as I shall show later on, their method of warfare inclines them more
to sniping and surprising unsuspecting enemies than to risking loss to
themselves in a pitched battle. Obviously the look-out on the tower would
be of little use in the case of a night attack, but, like many negroes,
the Bankutu do not like to move about at night, and, consequently, their
raids on the Batetela are far less serious than they might be. At Twipolo
we entered the first Bankutu village we had seen. These villages lie in
the heart of the forest, so closely surrounded by the woods that the one
street, bordered on each side by huts, of which they consist, is rather
a mere widening of the track than a clearing in the forest. One comes
upon the villages quite suddenly, and unless one has heard the crowing
of a cock or the whistling of the emerald cuckoo (a bird which is seldom
to be found unless there be a clearing of some sort close at hand),
one steps out of the forest into the village before one has realised
that there is a human habitation within miles. The villages themselves
though small and, usually on the approach of strangers, practically
deserted, are neat and very picturesque. The houses are rectangular, and
are built of the bark of trees neatly fastened to a framework of stakes
and thatched with leaves; next to the pretty decorated houses of the
Bushongo of Misumba, the bark huts of the Bankutu are the neatest we saw
during our wanderings in the Kasai. But the people themselves are by no
means so prepossessing. What a contrast they form to the tall dignified
Bushongo of the plains to the south of the Sankuru! Small and very dirty
in appearance, superstitious, timid, and treacherous, they appear to
have been influenced by the oppressive atmosphere and almost ghostly
gloom of their native forest. As some plants require the rays of the sun
and the fresh air to develop them, so it appears to be with the negro.
The Bushongo of the plains are a fine race of men with a dignity and
certain grace of manner which cannot fail to attract the attention of the
European who visits them; they have evolved for themselves a high state
of civilisation before the white man ever set foot in their country; they
have developed to a greater degree than most, if not all, the natives of
equatorial Africa such civilised arts as weaving, embroidery, and wood
carving. The Bankutu, on the other hand, are under-sized and ugly, sullen
and disagreeable in their manner, and, with the exception of the building
of huts, the only art that has been developed to any extent among them is
the art of killing their fellow-men by stealth.
[Illustration: A BANKUTU CANNIBAL.]
[Illustration: A BANKUTU VILLAGE.]
When a white man first commences a stay among negroes he usually
considers them all to be ugly, and finds a great difficulty in
distinguishing individuals from one another or in recognising natives
whom he has previously met. As time goes on, however, he becomes so
used to the negro type of countenance that his ideas as to its ugliness
undergo a change, and he soon comes to regard many individuals as quite
handsome; for he begins to judge more by a bright and ready smile or
an open honest countenance than by a European standard of regularity
of feature. I do not think, however, that any one could find much to
admire in the appearance of the Bankutu. They have a “shifty” look about
them—a manner which displays no inclination to trust or to be trusted.
One can readily understand that the people of the plains may regard the
inhabitants of the equatorial forest as of supernatural origin, as the
Bushongo regard the Batwa dwarfs. These dwarfs, whom I have mentioned
in the pages dealing with our stay at Lusambo, must be very similar in
character to the Bankutu, but, having long since been subjugated by
neighbouring tribes, they are split up, and therefore do not constitute
such a menace to the peace of the district as do the people whose country
we were now passing through. The Bankutu do not exactly increase their
beauty by the scars with which both sexes ornament their faces, the women
in particular rendering their countenances more repulsive than nature has
made them by rows of raised scars reaching from the temples across the
cheeks to the jaw-bone. More debased types of the human family than these
women it would be difficult to imagine. The men allow their hair to grow
long, and the care they bestow upon twisting it into innumerable little
tails hanging back from the forehead, saturated with palm oil, is about
all the attention they pay to their toilet, for, unlike most negroes,
the Bankutu _never wash_; when crossing a river they incidentally remove
a little of the filth from their lower limbs, and, I believe, when their
condition has become too awful for words, they will sometimes scrape
themselves with a knife; but washing in the streams is an unknown habit
with them. At Twipolo we were most ungraciously received. We saw very few
people about the village and no one who could possibly have been a man
of importance; no act of violence, however, was attempted against our
carriers, and no objection was raised to our pitching our tents in the
village. Shortly after our arrival we heard some angry discussion taking
place at the entrance to the village, and, fearing that our porters
might have caused trouble with the Bankutu, we hastened to discover what
was the matter. We found that some Batetela porters who had carried
loads from Bena Dibele to Kole were complaining that, upon their return
journey, the Bankutu had placed poisoned spikes in the track, concealed
by leaves, doubtless in order to kill them to serve as food at a cannibal
feast. This sort of occurrence is, I believe, by no means rare, although
the Bankutu living on the way from Dibele to Kole as a rule allow
caravans conveying Government property to pass unmolested. In defence of
their action the Bankutu stated that the Batetela had stolen some poultry
belonging to the village. We were by no means pleased at the possibility
of a breach of the peace, which would almost certainly have led to our
being attacked ourselves, so Torday called the Batetela aside and advised
them to do nothing in the matter on their own account, but to complain
to the _chef de poste_ at Bena Dibele; this they agreed to do, still
bitterly complaining at the treacherous and, according to themselves,
unprovoked attempt which had been made upon them. Early next morning they
departed for Bena Dibele and we commenced a four and a half hours’ march
to the village of Gamba. As a rule, when travelling in the Congo one
allows one’s porters to take their own time over the journey, provided,
of course, that they turn up with their loads in reasonable time at the
village where the night is to be spent. This is far more convenient for
the men, who can rest for a few minutes when they feel inclined, than
for them to march in a body, halting only when the white man, who is not
carrying a load, thinks that he would like to sit down by the wayside
and enjoy a pipe. The porters often prefer to travel much faster than
the white man and then rest for some time, and, very often, bathe in a
stream before continuing the journey. By allowing the men to do this one
certainly contributes to their comfort, and the loads are almost always
brought punctually to their destination. Our men were marching this way
through the Bankutu country, for we knew that Government loads were
allowed by the Bankutu to pass unmolested, and we considered that our men
would be just as safe travelling in this way as if they marched in close
attendance upon ourselves.
As we entered Gamba most of our men had already reached the village, and
one of them was leisurely walking up the street when I noticed a local
native, concealed from the view of our porters by a hut, tentatively
drawing at his bowstring, upon which an arrow was placed, and staring so
longingly at the back of our carrier that he had not heard our approach.
Upon our demanding sharply what he was doing the little man vanished
into the forest behind the houses. He _may_ not have intended to shoot;
but our carrier was a big fleshy man who might well tempt the arrow of
such an insatiable cannibal as the Bankutu. We paid no further attention
to the incident, and no active hostility was shown to us at Gamba. Our
reception was of the kind to which we soon grew accustomed in the Bankutu
country. We found but few people about the village, and were met by an
ill-conditioned youth, who appeared to be in charge of the place. We
inquired if we could see the chief, whereupon the youth informed us that
he was that dignitary. This was so obviously false that we said that we
did not believe it. “The chief is dead,” replied the boy. We inquired for
the elders; they too were dead. We asked if food would be sold to our
porters, but were told that the manioc had all been destroyed by wild
pigs and no food existed in the village. Could we buy any chickens? No
poultry was kept here (and this despite the fact that we could see many
fowls about the place). “Very well,” we said, “we have sufficient for
our men and ourselves to eat; will you show us where to obtain drinking
water.” “We have no water except when it rains,” was the answer. This
reception is typical of the way in which the Bankutu treat visitors to
their country. Needless to say, a clear stream was found by our men in a
very few minutes (one way of finding water being to follow the village
dogs at sundown), and it cannot be imagined that the natives hoped we
could believe such a tale about scarcity of water in so damp a place as
the forest. We were careful never to display annoyance at the treatment
we received, although it is rather trying to one’s temper, never very
good in the terrible forest climate, to be greeted with this sort of
thing when arriving in a village tired after a march, and later on we
managed to induce the youth who posed as chief to come and talk to us. We
began through him to try and buy a few things in the village. We selected
an arrow and offered a high price for it; the offer was refused. We then
steadily raised our offer until it reached quite ridiculous proportions,
but all to no purpose; the Bankutu were evidently determined not to trade
with us. Nor could we obtain any great amount of information at Gamba,
for we had to rely mainly upon our own observation, and therefore could
glean nothing of the social organisation, &c., of the tribe. In the
course of conversation, however, we learned that all the other Bankutu
villages were in the habit of frequently eating human flesh, but were
assured that the people of Gamba were far too virtuous to do anything so
horrible. Curiously enough we heard a similar tale in other villages, the
inhabitants of the place we happened to be in always claiming to be the
only Bankutu who were not cannibals! Later on we found out a good deal
more about these savages, and were able to realise how difficult it is
for the white man to enter into any negotiations with them. I have stated
that we never saw any one whom we really believed to be the chief or even
an elder of a village. It appears that every man of the Bankutu has two
huts, one in the villages such as we have seen, and another some distance
off in the forest; he keeps all his valuables at his forest hut, and near
to it are his plantations. Upon the approach of strangers the people
make off into the woods, and take up their residence in their forest
dwellings which are scattered about, not grouped together in hamlets, and
therefore are extremely difficult to find. The villages, which contain
nothing of value, are left in charge of a few slaves, or of such of the
Bankutu as may care to remain and catch a glimpse of the strangers. The
Bankutu would lose practically nothing were the intruders to burn their
villages to the ground; for the erection of a new settlement would occupy
but little time, and, in the meanwhile, the natives could reside in their
“country houses” in the depth of the forest. Not long before our visit
to this country a Government official had determined by hook or by crook
to become acquainted with the dignitaries of a certain Bankutu village.
Upon arriving at the place accompanied by an escort of troops, he found
not a soul in the village. Having plenty of provisions and any amount of
time to spare, he decided to quietly settle down and await the return of
the people. Day after day went by and still the Bankutu failed to put in
an appearance, and at last the official, called away by other duties, was
obliged to leave without so much as setting eyes on a native, although
doubtless his own movements and those of his men were closely watched by
Bankutu concealed in the forest. The white man probably knew nothing of
the existence of other huts in the woods, or he would not have wasted
his time. As I have said one sees no plantations when marching along the
roads, but this is not only the case in the Bankutu country; in many
districts where the natives grow food-stuffs in large quantities the
fields are situated in out-of-the-way places so as to escape the notice
of the passer-by, whereas in other places, which really produce no more,
acre after acre of plantations are to be seen. The best way to gain an
idea of the amount of land under cultivation is to get some local native
to accompany you in search of guinea fowl, for these birds are always
to be found near the fields. The white man who merely passes through a
district and stays only in the villages cannot hope to form any accurate
opinion of the extent to which the natives cultivate their land. After
leaving Gamba we marched through an open space about nine miles long,
but quite narrow, the first piece of really open country we had met with
since leaving the Sankuru, and arrived at a village where we met with a
better reception, although I think it highly improbable that even here,
at Chenjo, we came in contact with the real chief. The Bankutu clearly
could not make us out. We could not be Government officials, as we were
unescorted by troops, and therefore had presumably not come to inquire
into any of the acts of violence towards their neighbours, of which,
no doubt, every hamlet we passed through had been guilty; traders and
missionaries had not, at the time of our visit, entered the country, so
the Bankutu could not have mistaken us for either of the two other kinds
of white men known in the Congo; we bore a good reputation as peaceful
travellers, who appeared to want nothing except to purchase articles
which the natives had never previously had a chance to sell, and we were
prepared to pay exorbitant prices for them. Altogether the reason of our
visit was a mystery to the Bankutu; and very likely the fact that we
aroused their curiosity contributed largely to the safety of our passage
through their territory. At the village of Asenge, only one hour’s march
from the Lukenye River, which we reached after eight hours’ trying walk
through the forest, we were also fairly well received, but we arrived too
late to observe much of our surroundings. One curious thing, however,
we did notice, and that was the presence of a couple of lads, who
continually nodded their heads until it seemed as if they must inevitably
fall from their bodies. Upon inquiring the reason for this extraordinary
proceeding we were told that it was part of a cure for stomach-ache! We
subsequently learned, however, that the lads were apprenticed to the
local witch-doctor, and the necessity for ceaselessly nodding the head
was part of the mystic ceremony connected with their initiation into his
magic art.
The next day we hurried on to Kole, on the shore of the Lukenye River.
The Government station lies upon the right bank, about forty feet above
the water’s edge, and is built in a space cleared of trees, in the midst
of the densest forest, which is just large enough to allow room for
the houses of the two white officials, the rubber houses, stores, and
quarters of the fifty soldiers and the workmen, and a fairly large parade
ground. The bungalows are built of the stems of palm leaves, through
which sufficient air can pass to relieve the oppressive heat in the day
time, but which admit a good deal of damp at night. Upon our arrival
we were welcomed by Lieutenant Peffer, the _chef de poste_, and by his
assistant, the white N.C.O., who had recently been ill with what he
imagined was black-water fever, but which in reality had turned out to be
a severe attack of bilious fever. The _chef de poste_ at once remarked
that he considered we had run a great risk in passing through the Bankutu
villages unattended by an armed force; upon hearing our reasons for
so doing he agreed that we had chosen the wisest course, in fact the
only one open to travellers who wanted to see the Bankutu. Conversation
then turned upon these charming cannibals, and we learned from Monsieur
Peffer something of the difficulties with which a Government official is
surrounded in this district. The people around Kole are so hostile to
the white man that the place is really never free from the possibility
of attack; indeed, so possible is a rising of the natives at any moment
that cassava is planted between the buildings actually within the station
to avoid the loss of men which would ensue were it necessary to go out
into the woods to fetch provisions from plantations situated at even a
little distance from the post, in addition to which women working in
isolated fields would never be safe from the arrows of any Bankutu who
might happen to pass by even in times of so-called peace. The following
incident may give some idea of the treatment white men and their native
employees may expect at the hands of the Bankutu. A few days march from
Kole there exists a section of the Bankutu tribe known as the Tono.
These people had never in any way been subjugated by the white man’s
Government, and had plundered and murdered their neighbours at their
own sweet will. The _chef de poste_ at Kole determined to try and win
their confidence by kindness. He accordingly sent two messengers to them
requesting their chief to call upon him and to make friends with him,
saying that on no account would he demand any taxes, and guaranteeing
the absolute safety of any of the Tono who cared to visit him; he
furthermore promised the chief a good present in trade goods if he cared
to come and fetch it. A few days later the two muzzle-loaders with which
the messengers had been armed were returned to the _chef de poste_ by
a chief who was friendly both with him and with the Bankutu, the Tono
having eaten the envoys and having sent back the guns with a message to
the effect that the firearms would be useless to them, but that the white
man could forward them a fresh supply of messengers as soon as he liked!
[Illustration: BANKUTU BARK HUTS.]
[Illustration: A VILLAGE IN THE EQUATORIAL FOREST.]
The _chef de poste_ knew that any attempt at reprisals on his part
could only end in his finding a few deserted villages, and probably in
his losing a number of men in the process, so he could do nothing but
ignore the incident. Time went by, and one day the officer was amazed
to learn from the friendly chief that the Tono were anxious to make his
acquaintance, and if he would agree to let bygones be bygones, they would
call upon him at Kole. He was delighted. He imagined that his patience
with them had touched the heart of the Bankutu, and, no doubt, indulged
in many wild dreams of turning his district into a happy peaceful
country, where murder and cannibalism would be unknown.
Having pledged his word that no harm should befal the Tono chief and his
followers, he appointed a day for a meeting at the Government station.
The natives duly appeared, and, before entering the post, laid down
their bows and arrows beside a little stream, coming unarmed into the
presence of the white man, who, on his side, was careful to avoid any
display of armed force by letting his soldiers be too much in evidence.
The interview was of a highly satisfactory nature; gifts were exchanged,
and the official preached a nice little homily to the Bankutu upon
the desirability of peace, the foolishness of eating messengers, and
the pleasant conditions which would prevail if the natives would only
trust him and come often to visit him. The Tono expressed their regret
at having inconvenienced the white man by dining off his servants, and
promised that they would never transgress again.
Then they departed, leaving the _chef de poste_ very pleased with
his day’s work. On arriving at the brook beside which they had left
their arms the Tono found two or three of the soldiers’ wives washing
clothes; in a moment they had shot them, and, carrying off their bodies,
disappeared into the forest! So much for the good faith of the Bankutu.
Obviously such incorrigible rogues require a severe lesson, and it would
appear that after an outrage such as I have described a strong force
should be sent into their country to administer to them the punishment
that they undoubtedly deserve. But the Bankutu method of making war in
their native forest is such that a military expedition would have but
little chance of dealing a blow at them. The roads leading from village
to village are the merest tracks, so narrow that one’s elbows brush
against the bushes on either hand as one walks along them, while the
forest is so dense that one can scarcely distinguish anything even a few
feet from the wayside. In such a country where any shooting must take
place at the shortest of ranges, the bows of the Bankutu are at least
equal to the rifles of the soldiers, and their poisoned arrows are
certain to kill where a bullet might only effect the slightest of wounds.
It would be perfectly easy for the Bankutu to wait by the side of the
track concealed in the undergrowth and quietly pick off the troops as
they passed in single file, for flanking parties, if thrown out on either
side of the road, would literally have to cut their way through the
tangle of bushes, and would thus render the advance of the whole column
so slow as to destroy any faint hope that might exist of its coming
unexpectedly upon a village and surprising its inhabitants. The forest,
which is almost impassable to troops attired in blouses and breeches, and
encumbered by their accoutrements, scarcely hinders the movements of the
scantily clad Bankutu. But the natives have other methods of warfare,
hardly less effective than ambushing the advancing column, and absolutely
unattended by danger to themselves. In addition to placing little spikes,
steeped in deadly poison, beneath the fallen leaves on the road to wound
the naked feet of the soldiers, one prick from which will often prove
fatal in less than half-an-hour, they dig pits in the track, carefully
concealed with a covering of leaves, at the bottom of which poisoned
stakes are in readiness to impale any one who slips into them. This is
a very common form of trap used in most parts of Africa for the capture
of game, and the existence of which makes it necessary to walk with
great caution when shooting in parts of the forest where such devices
are employed. The Bankutu often dig such pits in their villages before
deserting them at the approach of the troops, and place chickens upon
them in the hope that the soldiers will be entrapped when they attempt
to take the fowls. Another and far more ingenious trap used in war is one
which consists of a bow with a poisoned arrow set, after the manner of a
spring gun, in such a way that the removal of a branch across the roadway
or some similar obstacle will launch forth the arrow upon its errand of
death from beneath the shelter of the underwood. These automatic bow
traps are often set in the deserted huts, so that the pushing aside of
the doors when the soldiers search the village will release the arrows.
Upon one occasion the _chef de poste_ of Kole entered a Bankutu village
accompanied by his troops; as usual, the place was deserted, but the
sound of a child crying attracted the officer’s attention to the edge of
the forest behind the huts, where he saw a tiny baby evidently abandoned
by its mother in her hasty flight into the woods. Filled with pity he
hurried to the spot, and, calling to a soldier to take charge of the
baby, he was about to pick it up when the soldier pulled him forcibly
backwards. The man had noticed a string round the baby’s body which was
connected with the bushes behind it. Examination of the bushes disclosed
a spring-bow trap to which the child had been attached as bait!
These are but a few of the stratagems to which the Bankutu resort not
only in time of actual war, but at any time when dealing with the white
man or his servants. The _chef de poste_ at Kole finds it unwise to go
even the two hours’ march inland to the spot where the Government station
until recently had been situated without ten soldiers to whom ball
cartridges have been served out. It is scarcely astonishing that warfare
in the forest, where the soldiers perish without so much as setting
eyes on an enemy, is extremely trying to the nerves of the troops. The
greatest success which a military expedition could achieve would be
merely the burning of a few villages, which would be rebuilt in no time
without even inconveniencing the natives; and the authorities strictly
prohibit the burning of villages in war. The _chef de poste_ at Kole,
therefore, has about as thankless a task as could fall to the lot of man.
In addition to the difficulty of his work and the risks he runs in the
execution of his duty, his life is rendered miserable, and constantly
threatened by the terrible nature of the climate.
Closely surrounded by the impenetrable forest, there is a lack of air at
Kole which renders the great heat of noonday oppressive in the extreme,
while at dusk a light grey mist descends upon the station, so damp
that one’s clothes become wringing wet if one sits out of doors after
sundown, and the woods emit a fœtid stench of decaying vegetation which
is often nearly sufficient to make one sick if one is out in the forest
as darkness comes on. The grey mist which is, I believe, common to most
parts of the Congo forest, rises again very late in the morning at Kole,
for the steamers which occasionally come up the Lukenye can rarely get
under way before nine or ten o’clock, and I have known the mist over the
parade ground to be so thick as to prevent the soldiers from drilling
before eleven in the morning. Some idea of the amount of moisture in the
air of the forest may be obtained when I say that a gun left uncovered in
one’s tent becomes red with rust in twenty-four hours. In the daytime the
atmosphere of the woods resembles that of a hot-house; at night that of
a well. With a climate like this and swarms of mosquitos it is not to be
wondered at that the white man is continually down with fever, and the
presence of the innumerable tsetse-flies on the Lukenye adds yet another
risk—that of sleeping sickness—to the already sufficient number that
exist owing to the natives and the climate around Kole.
We succeeded during our stay at this salubrious post in becoming more
or less friendly with one or two individuals of the Bankutu, and from
them we contrived to learn a little about the manners and customs of
that delightful people, in addition to their methods of war which I
have just described. I have said that they are cannibals; but the term
“cannibal,” which is, of course, applicable to people who only partake of
human flesh at the rarest intervals in accordance with some ceremonial
custom, is hardly strong enough to describe the man-eating tendencies
of the Bankutu. They actually stalk and shoot men for food as other
natives hunt animals, and this despite the fact that their country teems
with game. But the most remarkable thing about them is that they _never
bury their slaves_; no matter of what complaint he may have died, a
slave is invariably eaten. The reason for this disgusting practice is
the fear that the ghost of a slave might return to haunt a master who
had ill-treated him, whereas if the body is eaten the Bankutu believe
that the soul cannot return. The habit of eating slaves is carried to
such an extent that a lazy slave is often sold as food, and in a quarrel
between two Bankutu the aggrieved party will frequently kill a slave
belonging to the offender and dine off his body in company with his
friends. It might possibly be imagined that people so debased as the
Bankutu would fall upon a human body like hyenas upon the carcase of an
animal and tear it limb from limb, eating the flesh raw as they rent it
from the bones, yet such is not the case. Great care is exercised upon
the cooking of human meat, and it is even served up in quite a civilised
manner, in little rolls like bacon. I have not given by any means all the
information at my disposal with regard to the cannibalistic habits of
the Bankutu, but I have said enough to show that even to this day there
exists in Central Africa, in the heart of the great equatorial forest, a
people whose daily lives are as wild and whose customs are as disgusting
as those of any savages who figure in a boys’ book of adventure. To many
people in England it may seem incredible that tribes can exist in such
a state of barbarity at the beginning of the twentieth century, but,
despite the opening up of Africa, the mines, the railways, the hundred
and one ways in which European influence has begun to make itself felt
over enormous areas of the dark continent, there are yet a great many
out-of-the-way places where the savage is as much a savage to-day as he
was, say, five hundred years ago. Some day, no doubt, the forest around
Kole may be as peaceful a district as any in Africa, but until the
Bankutu have been completely brought into subjection there can never be
peace in the land. How to deal with such people is one of the hardest
problems the Government has to face. It is, of course, possible that a
given white man, who, possessed of infinite patience and tact, might
by his own personal magnetism influence the Bankutu for good; but the
process would take quite an ordinary lifetime, and lifetimes are very
short in the forest. The only course appears to me to be to encourage
the establishment of settlements in the Bankutu country by some such
friendly and progressive peoples as the Batetela, the excellent results
of whose occupation of the north of the Lodja I shall describe in due
course. I hear that some of the Batetela who mutinied several years ago
when serving in the army, and who, after being a scourge to the southern
part of the Congo, have only recently been captured, are to be allowed
to establish themselves in the district around Kole. The Bankutu are far
too suspicious to combine with the mutineers in any future rising against
the Government, and one may hope that the ex-soldiers may soon be able to
render their villages as prosperous as have their kinsmen farther to the
east.
[Illustration: THE EQUATORIAL FOREST.]
If to no one else, the forest should prove attractive to the naturalist,
although its impenetrable character renders the stalking of game by
a white man almost a waste of time. The woods abound in animal life,
very much of which must be quite unknown to zoologists in Europe, and
which will, in all probability, remain unknown for many years to come
owing to the inhospitable nature of the land and the people. Monkeys
are represented by many species, several of them doubtless undescribed,
while pigs and small antelopes abound. We were lucky enough to obtain
specimens of both male and female of a very small duiker which had not
previously been brought to Europe, and which Mr. Oldfield Thomas has
done me the honour of naming after myself, _cephalophos simpsoni_. This
little antelope is of a vandyke brown colour on the back, passing through
various shades to a light brown on the chest; its horns are very small.
It must exist in considerable numbers around Kole, but one’s chances
of obtaining a shot at the wary little beast are extremely remote. The
antelope family is also represented in this neighbourhood by a bush-buck,
a sitatunga, and at least one other duiker. Elephant and buffalo are not
to be found near Kole, and the Lukenye is too rapid to form a haunt of
hippopotami; large game is therefore conspicuous by its absence. I may
here mention that during our wanderings in the Kasai we never heard of
the existence of any animal which could possibly have been the okapi; but
I should not like to say that it may not exist in the forest to the north
of the Sankuru. Our stay at Kole was not marked by any act of aggression
on the part of the Bankutu, and passed off without any serious discomfort
to ourselves, with the exception of sundry attacks of malaria, to which
I was now very frequently subject. During our sojourn there the _chef
de poste_ received a visit from another official who really belonged to
the administration of the district of Lac Leopold II., but who, finding
himself with his steamer on the Lukenye river within easy reach of
Kole, had continued his voyage to pay a visit to the _chef de poste_.
Upon his return he narrowly escaped drowning, for his vessel was swept
by the force of the stream on to some rocks near Dikese, and sank in a
few moments, the European captain saving himself by swimming, while the
Government official was rescued by one of the native crew. No lives were
lost, but the white men and crew who were thus forced to take shelter in
the forest were lucky to escape being eaten, a fate which overtook the
passengers on the _Ville de Bruxelles_ when that vessel foundered on the
Upper Congo in 1909. We had wished to visit the Tono, whom I have already
mentioned as living a few days’ march from Kole, for this sub-tribe of
the Bankutu were said to manufacture a certain kind of strange currency
of which we were anxious to obtain specimens, but such a journey was
impossible. Lieutenant Peffer told us that we could certainly go if we
wished to do so, but that he himself should insist upon accompanying us
with at least thirty of the fifty soldiers which constituted the garrison
of Kole. To go with the troops meant that we should never behold a native
and would probably be ambushed on the way, so we abandoned all idea of
carrying out an extended tour in the country of the Bankutu, from whom
we could really hope to glean very little information beyond what we had
been able to pick up from a few friendly individuals. We accordingly,
after a little over three weeks spent at Kole, took the opportunity
afforded by the arrival of a small steam tug to proceed up the Lukenye to
Lodja, by no means sorry to leave behind us such treacherous natives as
the Bankutu.