THE PEOPLES OF THE GREAT FOREST
The voyage up the river was exciting, if not particularly comfortable.
The Lukenye is narrow and very tortuous, with an extremely violent
current, which renders navigation very dangerous. Just at the Government
station at Kole its width is nearly two hundred yards, but here the
banks have been considerably worn away by a whirlpool which exists just
below some rocks, between which the stream rushes with great force. This
whirlpool has its uses, for by pushing a large canoe from the slack water
by the bank into the course of the whirlpool the vessel is set in motion
and carried in a semi-circular course towards the opposite shore, upon
approaching which a few strokes of the paddles will drive it out of the
current into the still water under the bank; in this way one paddler can
take across the river a canoe which it would necessitate, under ordinary
circumstances, three or four men to move. I once shot a duck in the
evening, which fell into this whirlpool; next day we retrieved the bird,
which had been floating round in a circle all night.
Above Kole the Lukenye soon becomes much narrower, until at Lodja its
width is not more than about thirty yards. The vessel which occasionally
makes the journey is a stout little tug, driven by a propeller instead
of the usual stern wheel, to either side of which iron lighters are
attached to carry cargo. The boat was commanded by a native mechanic,
who hailed from Sierra Leone. In addition to the numerous sharp bends,
often considerably exceeding a right angle, with which the course of the
Lukenye abounds, many submerged rocks and “snags” formed by fallen trees
add greatly to the danger of navigation. As the steamer slowly forces
her way against the stream, often progressing but a few yards to the
minute, the crew sit in the lighters waiting, with knives in their hands,
to cut them adrift should either the steamer or one of the lighters
themselves strike a “snag” and commence to founder; for if any one of
the three vessels were to fill with water she must inevitably drag the
others down with her. The striking of a snag is no uncommon occurrence,
but the boats are stoutly built, and, while advancing slowly against
the stream, collisions with a sunken tree are less dangerous than in
descending the river, when they are swept onward at a great pace by the
current. Any one who allows himself to think of unpleasant subjects will
find plenty of food for reflection during a six days’ voyage from Kole
to Lodja. If he looks at the course of the river he can scarcely fail to
begin to calculate his chances of coming out of it alive if the steamer
should chance to strike the next snag rather more forcibly than the
last one; he will soon satisfy himself that these chances are not worth
much consideration, and will, perhaps, turn his attention to the native
crew. He will find the men busily occupied in catching tsetse-flies
upon one another’s backs—for never have I seen so many of these pests
as upon the Lukenye—and his thoughts will turn to sleeping sickness.
Having pondered sufficiently upon the curse of the Dark Continent he may
turn his attention to the machinery, but a glance at the pressure gauge
will only serve to remind him that a boiler explosion is another of the
little accidents which appear likely to occur at any moment, for enormous
pressures have to be maintained in order to make any headway against
the stream. On the whole, it is better for one’s peace of mind to take
one’s gun and keep a sharp look-out for duck, or for some strange monkey
which swarm in the forests on the shores, until a bump reminds one of the
snags, the prick of a tsetse fly recalls the sleeping sickness, or some
weird noise in the machinery produces an outburst of English swearing
from the mechanic and causes one to think once again of the boiler. The
tug was so small that we had to sit on one little bench in front of
the engines all day long, unable to move a step, there being only just
sufficient room to enable us to occasionally stand up to stretch our
limbs; immediately in front of us was the helmsman, upon whose back we
amused ourselves by killing tsetses with a little whisk made of thin
strips of palm leaf, to his great satisfaction, for whether or not the
natives connect the fly with the sleeping sickness, they have a great
horror of the insect. Certainly upon the Lukenye one sees forest scenery
at its best. The swiftly rushing river winding in and out between banks
clothed with impenetrable forest, the vegetation often rising in solid
walls from the water’s edge; the varying greens of the foliage, broken
here and there by patches of white or red of some flowering shrub; the
graceful creeper palms, all combine to make up a picture very pleasing
to the eye, but conveying, I think, an impression of the forest which
closer acquaintance, in the form of marching through the woods, very
soon dispels. Owing to the strength of the stream we saw very few canoes
upon the Lukenye, but about midway between Kole and Lodja we came across
some very primitive craft. These consisted solely of three parallel
logs lashed together at the ends with vines, which were paddled in a
sitting position by almost naked men. Of course the water swept freely
all over these little rafts. At night we camped upon the shores, which
were usually low lying and swampy, for the dry season (or what passes
for a dry season in the forest) was now in full swing, and the river
had receded considerably, leaving muddy spaces beneath the trees where
stagnant water had been a few months before. It was in such spots as
this that we had to pitch our tents, so it may well be imagined that the
mosquitos, the damp, and the evil smells of the woods were not conducive
to late hours; we used to turn in as soon as we had partaken of a hastily
prepared supper. Once or twice we encamped in the neighbourhood of
villages which lay a little way inland, and here the natives, primitive
Batetela of the forest, used to come and sell us eggs, poultry, and
plantains, receiving us in a very different manner from the inhospitable
Bankutu.
Upon the sixth day after leaving Kole we arrived at the Government
station at Lodja. We found there a civilian as _chef de poste_, and
a European N.C.O. in command of the forty or fifty soldiers that
constituted the garrison of the place. The first thing we did was to
inquire of the _chef de poste_ if carriers were easily obtainable in
the neighbourhood, for we had dismissed those who had brought our loads
from Bena Dibele immediately upon arriving at Kole, and we learned that
among the more civilised Batetela, who occupy the country to the north of
Lodja, porters were always to be found; so we sent off a small caravan to
the Kasai Company’s post of Idanga, on the Sankuru, to purchase a fresh
supply of trade goods, for the articles we had bought among the Bankutu
had cost us much more than we had expected, and our store of goods was
already at a very low ebb. Meantime we pitched our tents at Lodja and
awaited the return of these porters. Lodja lies on the right bank of
the Lukenye in a small clearing in the forest, and it is, I think, a
less unhealthy post than Kole, for it is scarcely so damp, and the mists
at night are neither so dense nor so slow in rising in the mornings.
It was now the so-called dry season, but in the forest at such a short
distance from the equator—a little more than three degrees to the south
of the line—rain falls pretty frequently, even during the driest months,
and the country never presents the parched appearance of the southern
plains during the summer. We spent our time at Lodja in studying the
natives that lived quite near to the station on the southern side of the
river, and in collecting specimens of the numerous small and beautifully
coloured birds that existed in great numbers in the plantation of
Lodja. We also assisted in the organisation of some sports, wherewith
to celebrate the anniversary of the foundation of the Independent State
of the Congo. The State was still in existence so far as we in the
forest could know, but we knew that the annexation by Belgium was being
considered in Europe. These sports afforded us quite a lot of amusement,
and for a day diverted our thoughts from the sterner and more unpleasant
side of life, of which we had seen quite sufficient at Kole. The two
white officials and ourselves turned over our personal property and
selected such articles of clothing, &c., as we could spare to be offered
as prizes for the various competitions, and in this we got a certain
amount of amusement out of our hosts. The civilian _chef de poste_ called
us secretly aside and extolled the virtues of his military colleague,
than whom, he declared, a nicer companion could not be desired, but at
the same time he was, perhaps, a little inclined to show undue partiality
to his soldiers whenever there was anything to be given away; it had been
decided to keep the events in the sports for the soldiers and the workmen
quite distinct, and would we, therefore, in offering our prizes remember
that the workmen were always busy, whereas the soldiers at Lodja had a
very easy life, and would we be sure to allot the greater share of our
prizes to the events restricted to non-combatants. A few minutes later
the military officer found an opportunity of having a private talk to
us. No one, he assured us, could wish to serve in the same place with a
more delightful companion than the _chef de poste_, but he had one little
failing—he could never realise how much more important were the soldiers,
upon whose presence the safety of the station depended, than the mere
workmen who cut up and packed rubber for despatch to the river; would
we, therefore, be sure to insist that the major portion of our prizes
should be given for events open only to the soldiers. Needless to say, we
divided our goods equally between the two sections of the community, and
the games passed off without any friction whatever. The sports were an
unqualified success; every one in the place, white man and black, soldier
and civilian, all worked their hardest to make things go. We erected a
greasy pole, and measured off a course for foot races; the shooting range
was cleared of grass to allow a good view of the butts, and new targets
were improvised.
A start was made after the midday meal, the natives having devoted the
morning to their ablutions and to attiring themselves in all the finery
in the way of coloured European cottons that they could lay their hands
on. Firstly, we all marched behind the bugler to the range, where the
soldiers shot for prizes with their Albinis, and we attempted to give an
exhibition of markmanship with our Mannlichers and express rifle; after
this we returned to the station (still marching behind the bugler), and
the sports began. The greasy pole competition resulted in a victory for
the village blacksmith, whose repeated attempts to scale the pole at
length wore off most of the palm oil with which it had been greased,
and rendered the ascent less difficult than it had been at first,
when frequent failures had induced the other competitors to abandon
the task. Foot races were of three kinds, namely, ordinary 200 yard
sprints, “pig-a-back” races, and a race for teams of three natives who
ran side by side, the middle man having each of his legs tied to a leg
of his companions. These events produced a lot of merriment among the
spectators, for falls were numerous and disputes arose between members
of the various teams when failure to “keep step” carried the middle man
off his feet, but the distribution of prizes for the races caused some
little heart-burning as some of the losers claimed a reward for having,
as they said, run just as far as the winners. In addition to these
events, various foolish games were indulged in, such as blindfolded men
endeavouring to feed each other with spoonsful of cassava porridge, all
of which caused the greatest delight to the crowd, some of the spectators
rolling upon the ground in paroxysms of mirth, while I must say that we,
the white men of the party, enjoyed ourselves as thoroughly as children
at a school treat. Little things please little minds, and one’s mind
becomes very small in the forest.
Before describing our journey northwards in the great forest, and the
peoples we met with there, I had better give my reader a general idea
of the natives whom we met. One of the objects of our tour from Lodja
was to see the Akela people, of whose existence we had heard at Bena
Dibele, and concerning whose life and origin nothing was known in Europe,
but before reaching the country of the Akela we learned that we should
have to pass through the villages of several other peoples. All these
peoples are Batetela, related more or less closely to the Batetela
whom we had visited at Mokunji. These latter, as I have shown in an
earlier chapter, have already begun to display marked changes in their
customs, &c., owing to the influence of the “civilisation” which first
the Arab and then the white man have introduced into Central Africa,
but the Batetela of the forest are still for the most part in a very
primitive state of culture. But, at the same time, changes are coming
over them, rapidly spreading from the east, and therefore one finds
villages of the more advanced type, planned after the manner of an Arab
or a European settlement, in the heart of the forest surrounded by the
primitive hamlets of those sections of the Batetela who have not yet
learned to imitate foreign ideas of house construction and dress. After
the Arab wars several chiefs migrated into the forest from districts as
far off as the Lomami River, and these more civilised people may now
be found dwelling among their less progressive kinsmen, upon whom they
are beginning to exercise an influence which will soon break down the
conservative spirit in which most negroes view the introduction of new
ideas and ways. Of course, each of the sub-tribes through whose territory
we passed possesses a name; but what I wish to point out is that whether
they call themselves Olemba, Vungi, Okale, or Lohinde Jofu; whether they
are primitive or already influenced by foreigners, all the people I am
about to describe are in reality members of the great Batetela tribe. The
Akela belong to a different part of the Congo altogether, and I shall
give a brief outline of their history when I describe our wanderings
in their country. The Batetela occupying the left bank of the Lukenye
River opposite to the post of Lodja are called the Olemba. They, owing
to the proximity of the white man’s settlement, are fast becoming more
like the people of Mokunji than the simple folk of the forest, but in
many respects they are still very primitive. We paid several visits to
their principal village, Oyumba, and received calls from their real
chief, not the elder who, as in the other places I have mentioned, poses
as chief before the officials. Oyumba lies in a large natural clearing
of the forest, and is a neat, prosperous-looking village surrounded by
extensive cultivation and by groves of plantains, which are very numerous
in all the villages of the forest of Batetela. During one of our visits
to the place we saw a woman whose cheeks were covered with soot and a
man who had applied soot freely to his stomach; this we discovered was a
sign of mourning. Many negro peoples make such outward display of their
sorrow at the death of a relative. We also noticed the curious habit of
bumping noses when an Olemba meets an acquaintance upon the road. From
the chief we learned a good deal about the customs of the people, some
of which are rather curious. For example, they have a way of dealing
with murderers which should certainly act as a deterrent to homicide:
a murderer is compelled to publicly hang himself from a tree! I do not
quite know what is done to him if he declines to voluntarily carry out
the sentence passed upon him, but I should say his wisest course would
certainly be to hang himself at once when told to do so and not to let
the crowd save him the trouble by despatching him in any other way. The
purchase of brides, too, is remarkable. The usual price paid, by the
bridegroom to the lady’s father is about eight copper crosses (a currency
imported from Katanga), thirty-five chickens, and four dogs. But there
is no delicacy whatever displayed in arranging the sum by the young man
and the parent of his charmer. The former often begins by eloping with
the girl, after which the price to be paid is settled at a meeting or
series of meetings with her father. The old man points out the charms
of his daughter, and the advantages which the younger man would derive
from an alliance with so distinguished a family as his own, and demands
an exorbitant sum for the hand of his daughter. The bridegroom then, in
a most ungallant manner, proceeds to call attention to all the demerits
of his loved one and to offer as niggardly a price as possible. As the
discussion proceeds, however, the offer is increased cross by cross, fowl
by fowl, and dog by dog, until at last about the amount mentioned has
been reached, when the deal is concluded. During our subsequent journey
in the forest we noticed that some of our Olemba porters were always
trying to buy dogs in the villages we passed through, and a few of them
came back to Lodja leading two or three of these animals by strings;
these gentlemen were contemplating matrimony. We became acquainted with
the principal fetish-man of Oyumba, and we saw him perform a conjuring
trick which would be quite sufficient to endow him with supernatural
powers in the simple minds of his fellow-countrymen. He called upon us
at Lodja one day just as I was about to start upon a ramble in the woods
with my gun. Torday inquired of the wizard if he could supply me with
some charm or fetish which would ensure me success in my search for game.
The man thereupon, without any preliminary preparations whatsoever,
held his hand below his nose and, sneezing, discharged into it from his
nostril a very large seed; so large that it could not possibly have ever
been got into his nose, and yet I am prepared to swear that I saw it come
out of his nostril. The performance reminded me of the Egyptian Hall, and
doubtless is as capable of explanation as the tricks of Messrs. Maskelyne
and Devant. But tricks of this sort go a very long way towards making
a fetish-man a power in the village, a power which can easily cause a
whole tribe to rise against the white man. Having rolled the seed up in
the leaf of some particular shrub, which he obtained in the forest close
at hand, the wizard handed me the “medicine,” informing me that I should
now be sure of obtaining sport. I will not spoil the story by giving any
account whatever of the luck that attended me during my evening ramble;
perhaps lack of faith on my part may have impaired the potence of the
charm.
[Illustration: OUR LOADS IN A FOREST VILLAGE.]
[Illustration: THE DOGS WITH WHICH THE OLEMBA BUY THEIR WIVES.]
As soon as our supply of trade goods arrived from Idanga the _chef
de poste_ engaged about fifty carriers for us, and we started upon
our tour in the north. The first day’s march led us through numerous
hamlets which had sprung up in the neighbourhood of the Government post,
probably with the object of finding a good market for their produce,
to the site of the old station of Lodja; for like Kole, Lodja had only
recently been moved to the banks of the Lukenye from a more open yet
less accessible situation a few hours’ march inland. We passed by the
important “civilised” Batetela village which is under the chieftainship
of a small boy, some twelve years of age, by name Boo. This precocious
youth already possessed five wives, most of them old enough to be his
mother, and was an extremely civilised person as regards his dress. If
there were in the district any white man with sufficient time on his
hands to undertake the education of this young chief, I think that he
could easily be trained to become a really useful and progressive leader
of a people whose natural inclination to accept European ideas makes
them one of the most promising tribes with whom we came in contact; but
unfortunately the training of young chiefs had not, at the time of our
visit to the forest, received much, if any, attention on the part of the
Government. Many of the primitive peoples of the Congo may not yet be
ready to benefit fully by the advice which a tactful white “resident”
would be able to give to their chiefs; but the more civilised portions
of the Batetela tribe certainly are ready, and would, I am convinced,
amply repay, by developing their country, the cost of maintaining white
residents in their midst whose mission would be the introduction of
European methods of agriculture and crafts. We did not spend a night with
Boo, but marched on through an extensive patch of grass land, with the
forest forming the horizon on either hand, to the village of Lumbuli,
the site of the former Government station of Lodja. Upon arriving at the
village we were met by Lumbuli’s drummers and a vast crowd of natives
and were conducted to the chief’s house, and then in and out through the
neat, tidy streets between crowds of natives who had assembled to look
at us. Suddenly it occurred to us we were being shown off by the headman
of our caravan, so we ordered this worthy to lead us at once to the old
Government buildings near which we were to camp; we found that they were
situated close to the point at which we had entered the village. It is
not by any means pleasing to be walked round and round a large village
like a circus procession at the conclusion of a hard day’s march close to
the Equator, and we were considerably annoyed with our headman for thus
dragging our weary steps a mile or two further than necessary; but we
preferred being regarded as a popular side-show than as a nuisance (as
among the Bankutu), so our wrath was not very terrible.
Next day we marched on, still through a strip of open country surrounded
by forest, to the village of an important chief named Kandolo. On the
way we passed through several villages inhabited by civilised Batetela,
at each of which people hurried out to meet us in the hope of being able
to trade, offering us all manner of commodities, from food-stuffs to
parrots, in exchange for our goods. We could not purchase much while on
the march, as of course our supply of cloth, &c. was packed up in bales
and being carried by the porters, but we were able to select a few curios
for the Museum, which were kept for us by their owners until we passed by
again on our return journey. Kandolo’s village forms a striking example
of the prosperity which the more civilised Batetela are introducing into
the forest. One walks for two or three miles through plantations of
millet and cassava before arriving at the place itself, and as one draws
near to the huts one enters a regular forest of plantains and bananas.
Then one proceeds along a street fully twenty yards wide, bordered on
either hand by neat plaster houses between which plantain trees cast an
agreeable shade in the little yards or gardens with which every house is
provided. The street is perfectly straight, and not one ruined nor untidy
hut mars the neatness of its appearance. In the centre of the village
stands the residence of Kandolo, a long plaster house situated at one
side of an open space where dances and other ceremonial proceedings take
place; from this centre other streets, as wide and neat as that by which
one enters the village, radiate through the groves of plantains. Upon
nearing the village we were met by Kandolo’s drummers, who played us up
the street to the spot opposite to his residence where the chief awaited
our arrival. Kandolo has been a soldier, and as soon as we appeared in
sight he stood stiffly at attention by the wayside attired in an old
English infantry tunic, a fine, tall, commanding figure. When we had
reached him he laid aside the soldier and became the chief, stepping up
to us and shaking hands before leading us to the house which he keeps
for any official who may pass by. While we were resting in this clean
and tidy bungalow, while our tents were being pitched outside, Kandolo
learned the reason of our coming and proceeded to make us welcome.
Firstly, he inquired if we wanted chickens, and if so how many. In a
few moments the exact number we named was presented to us. This was a
far more practical way of receiving an honoured guest than we had yet
come across in our wanderings. As a rule a chief who means to receive
you well gives you a far larger present of chickens than you require, in
the hope, of course, of obtaining a correspondingly large gift of trade
goods. Kandolo, however, had seen enough of the white man when on the
march to know that too many chickens are an encumbrance, and he therefore
very wisely asked us to say exactly what we wanted. We named one or two
things such as palm-oil and native tobacco, all of which were at once
forthcoming. The chief then inquired what he could do for us, and we
replied that, as we intended to visit him after our journey to the Akela
country, we would not ask him for any information at the moment with
regard to his people, but we said that we should be glad if he could
let one of his men accompany us to the plantations, where we could try
to obtain a shot at guinea-fowl. Kandolo issued an order, quite after
the manner of a sergeant drilling recruits, and half-a-dozen men started
out at once to look for birds. In an hour one of them returned and led
us straight to a field where we found and shot a few for our supper,
breakfast, and supper on the morrow. Kandolo was evidently master in
his own village, and was just as friendly as he could possibly be. He
presented our carriers with a more than liberal supply of food, and he
instructed his people to bring for our inspection any objects they might
desire to sell. The result was that we did a roaring trade in curios.
The currency most in demand was leather belts, of which we fortunately
had received a good supply from Idanga, but among the civilised Batetela
almost anything emanating from Europe is greedily accepted as money.
The idea of these people appears to be to sell their produce no matter
at what price nor for what commodity, but to _sell_. We never met
people so anxious to trade in the whole course of our journey. They are
pre-eminently an agricultural people, and their fields, situated in the
open land in the forest, are extremely fertile; they are ready and eager
to plant anything of value that will grow. It appears, therefore, that
much, very much, could be done to develop the resources of the country
if a European were appointed to give these Batetela a little practical
instruction in farming and to introduce new and useful crops for them to
grow. I am sure that the creation of a post of instructor in agriculture
would be immediately followed by most striking results in the district
just north of Lodja. Even without any direct encouragement from the
Government the people have introduced many new crops, often obtaining
the seeds from the garden of some white official, and everything planted
seems to grow well in the rich soil of their country. In many other ways
the natives of this district display possibilities which ought to be
developed; for example, Kandolo employs a carpenter who turns out quite
useful work with the limited number of European tools at his disposal.
In addition to being prepared to accept the innovations introduced by
the European, the Batetela evidently likes the white man himself; that
is evident from their cheery, genial manner and from the eagerness with
which they crowd round to watch or take part in anything that he may
be doing. Any native will always be only too pleased to accompany the
traveller when he takes a stroll with his gun, whereas among some peoples
it is quite difficult to obtain a companion for an evening’s shooting.
It always appeared to me that when a crowd of Batetela are watching a
white man doing anything, they are looking on with a view to learning
something which may be of use to themselves, and not merely to gratify
an idle curiosity as do many of the more primitive tribes. Kandolo
himself is somewhat of a dandy with regard to his dress. He always wears
European apparel to some extent; and upon the occasion of our visit to
him he changed his garments no less than eight times in one day! Up to
Kandolo’s village our way had lain along the route usually followed by
caravans going to and from the Government station of Lomela from the
Lukenye River, and the country through which we had passed had consisted
of little plains bordered by the forest. These plains may very possibly
have originally been artificial clearings in the woodland made by the
natives for their crops, for the Batetela cultivate so extensively that
their clearings, if the forest should not encroach upon them, would in a
very short time assume the dimensions of a plain; and it appears quite
possible that the forest would not readily spring up again upon a soil
from which much of the goodness has been removed by the cultivation of
cassava, a crop which so impoverishes the ground that it cannot be grown
in the same field for two crops in succession. After Kandolo’s village we
branched off the main track, taking a road to the west of that used by
caravans, and we entered once more a country resembling in all respects,
except the character of its inhabitants, the dense forest around Kole.
Marching in the forest is, in my opinion, far more fatiguing than in the
plains. It is true that one is more or less sheltered from the scorching
rays of the equatorial sun (although it would be courting sunstroke
to dispense with adequate head-gear even in the densest parts of the
woodlands), but one is constantly forced to break the evenness of one’s
stride in order to step over roots or fallen trees, one has frequently to
clamber over logs laid down in some swampy spot to form a sort of bridge,
and often one is obliged to run as hard as one can lay one’s legs to the
ground to avoid a colony of driver ants, which swarm over one’s legs in
a moment and take hold so firmly of the skin that their heads are often
left embedded in it when one endeavours to pull them off. In addition
to this there is an oppressive sensation caused by the lack of air, for
except during a tornado no breeze penetrates the forest. After even a
very brief sojourn in this district one becomes so run down by frequent
fevers that marching under the most pleasant conditions would be trying,
and one wearily drags on mile after mile with leaden feet and aching
head, longing for a breath of the wind that sweeps the plains.
The monotony of forest marching is depressing in the extreme. One
cannot see more than a few feet into the woods on either hand of the
narrow track, and the frequent bends and turns in the way limit one’s
view to a few yards ahead. One plods on hour after hour, day after day,
without coming across any real break in the monotonous gloom of one’s
surroundings. Villages are numerous, but, like those of the Bankutu,
they are situated in clearings so small as to be little else than a
mere widening of the track, and plantations are rarely to be seen by
the wayside. We marched for five days without coming to any break in
the woods other than those afforded by the villages. One rises in the
morning, after a long night’s repose, with a swimming head and a feeling
of lassitude which, if it passes off at all, only leaves one when the day
is well advanced. One is always tired in the forest. When one commences
the day’s march the bushes are so wet that one becomes soaked to the
skin as one brushes them aside where they overhang the track; later in
the day one’s clothes dry on one, only to become wringing with moisture
again when the grey mist descends in the evening, and the huts and
people loom gaunt and ghostlike in the fog. Most Europeans in the Kasai
district are carried in hammocks when on the march, and accordingly
prefer to travel in the shade of the forest; but we invariably walked all
the way during our journey, believing that exercise is a necessity to
health, and both of us are convinced that a march in the forest is more
fatiguing than a stage of similar length in the plains even under the
hottest sun. Of course we always carried with us a hammock for use in an
emergency, but only on one or two occasions were we carried in it, and
then merely because fever or a damaged foot prevented us from walking.
The forest, despite its terrible climate and damp oppressive heat, can be
very attractive so long as one does not spend sufficient time in it to
become depressed by its monotony. Parts of it are extremely beautiful.
The little swamps and pools around the courses of the brooks are often
really lovely to look upon, for the sun shines down upon the still waters
covered with light green weeds and white lilies, forming a brilliant
contrast to the gloom of the surrounding woods. There is much to attract
one’s notice even in the restricted area visible from the road—troops of
monkeys of many varieties crash through the tree-tops at the approach of
the caravan; strange and beautiful birds flit among the branches, giving
one but a glimpse of their brilliant plumage as they go; butterflies
of gorgeous colour are to be seen in countless numbers. All these are
interesting or beautiful, and serve to some extent to relieve the
monotony of a forest journey. If one could only feel fresh and vigorous,
a stay in the forest might therefore prove enjoyable; but, worn out by
fever and fatigue, one fails to appreciate the wonders of the woods and
longs for the open landscape and pure air of the plains.
[Illustration: A VUNGI MOTHER.]
[Illustration: AN AKELA BEAUTY.]
The forest north of Lodja is so densely populated that we were too much
occupied in observing the life of the natives whom we met to give way
to the feeling of slackness which the climate produced. The first of
the primitive Batetela tribes with whom we came in contact were the
Vungi. These people were more scantily attired than any whom we had yet
encountered. The women wore nothing but two bundles, or large tassels,
of vegetable fibre suspended, one in front and one behind, from a girdle
of rope, while the men wore small pieces of native-made cloth or the
skins of tiny antelopes, put on in the same way, leaving the thighs
naked. Their houses were small, and were very remarkable in that a
continuation of their pent-shaped roof formed a verandah at one end of
the building, beneath which the women cooked the meals and the family
spent the day until driven indoors by the damp mist in the evenings. The
houses themselves were constructed of the bark of trees and thatched
with leaves. Most of the men we saw carried smaller bows and arrows
than those we had been accustomed to see in the plains, for the tangle
of undergrowth would render a large bow unwieldy in the forest. In the
first few villages we passed through we came across one or two plaster
houses, and occasionally saw a man wearing some European garment, but as
we advanced northwards these signs of the advance of a change from their
primitive state grew rarer and more rare until, as we neared the Akela
country, they completely disappeared. Among the peoples of this portion
of the forest which I am now describing plantains take the place, to a
great extent, of cassava, millet, or maize in the manufacture of dough,
which constitutes the greater part of a native meal. The insides of the
plantains are pounded into a sort of flour and then steamed or boiled,
and eaten either warm or cold. Although meat is obtainable very easily
in the forest, small antelopes, pigs, and monkeys being very abundant,
the people of the district, in common with most Congo natives, eat very
little of it; a small piece, sometimes eaten in an advanced state of
putrefaction, being considered sufficient to lend a little taste to the
somewhat insipid dough. In all of the numerous villages we passed through
we met with a cordial reception. As we habitually marched by easy stages
our approach was expected by the natives, and at almost every village a
supply of food was laid out upon leaves in the street in readiness for
our men. This pleased us very much at first, for if our carriers found
a meal ready for them on their arrival they would not be likely to get
into any dispute over bargains with the natives; but when we found as
many as three or four villages upon our route, each of which had provided
an enormous quantity of food for the men and whose chiefs naturally
expected a correspondingly large present, we came to the conclusion that
travelling in the forest was rather expensive. At one place, where
the chief was rather more civilised than most of his neighbours and
consequently was determined not to be outdone by them in the cordiality
of his welcome to the white man, no less than five hundred liberal
portions of dough and meat were prepared for our sixty followers! The
food, laid out on plantain leaves in two long lines, reached from one end
of the village to the other. When the last portion had been put in its
place in the line, a bell was rung and two men emerged from the compound
behind the chief’s hut carrying on a pole a freshly killed antelope for
Torday and myself. Of course this kind of reception is extravagantly
lavish, but it shows the spirit in which the Batetela of the forest are
prepared to meet the white man.
When passing through a thickly populated part of this country one can
scarcely fail to offend many chiefs by being obliged to refuse their
food, for one’s men soon receive so much that they not only have more
than they can eat, but more than they can conveniently carry with them.
The Okale occupy the country joining the Vungi territory on the north.
These people are in many respects similar to the Vungi; but their women
wear small fringes around their waists in place of the tassels I have
described. Among the Okale we noticed a similar system of signalling by
means of a gong to that in vogue among the Batetela of Mokunji. In the
forest, however, the gong is usually a fixture in the village, consisting
of a huge log, hollowed out, which is beaten with wooden mallets. We
came across one extremely primitive signal gong; it consisted simply of
two flat pieces of wood, laid across a hole in the ground, upon which
different tones could be produced wherewith to transmit a message.
Cannibalism, once as prevalent among the forest Batetela as among their
neighbours around Kole, appears to be fast dying out even in the most
primitive villages, although no doubt many instances of it still occur
which are kept secret by those concerned in them. A very noticeable
feature in the villages of the Okale are the neat models of houses which
are erected over their tombs. The dead are usually buried in the village,
and the graves are surrounded by a fence to keep off the dogs and goats.
Over the graves are built little houses, often of better construction
than those lived in by the people, in and around which are hung baskets,
cooking pots, and other articles once the property of the man who rests
below. Among people so primitive as the dwellers in the forest it was
not to be expected that we should be able to find any manufactures to
equal in artistic beauty the wood carvings and embroidery of Misumba, but
we procured a fairly large and representative collection of objects in
daily use to be sent to the British Museum. The people, as a rule, were
perfectly willing to sell their belongings (at their own price!), and
only upon one occasion did we meet with a Batetela chief who declined to
sell us curios. This worthy (who was very likely suffering from an attack
of liver, and accordingly not inclined to be amiable) stated that he
would prefer not to sell us anything, but that he would allow his drummer
to perform for us while we sat at dinner in the evening! This honour we
declined; we had all the native music we required when in the forest
without accepting it as a favour from the chiefs. Very often upon our
arrival in a village the local natives would organise a dance, in which
our porters, who, one would have imagined, would be too tired to indulge
in this form of amusement, used to take part, keeping it up sometimes
until far into the night. Upon one occasion, when the women were dancing,
Torday playfully snapped his fingers near the nose of some dusky beauty,
whereupon the chief solemnly requested him to do the same for all the
ladies of the village in order that jealousies might not arise! The old
man evidently believed the gesture to be some magic sign which would
have some good effect upon any one to whom it was shown. Sugarcane is
very extensively eaten in the forest, but the natives, of course, do not
know ordinary “lump” sugar by sight, and we used to get quite a lot of
amusement out of them by offering them pieces of that delicacy from our
table. They invariably believed that we were giving them salt, with which
they were well acquainted, and their grimaces and expressions of disgust
on tasting the sugar were ludicrous to see; although in reality they
dearly love sweet things, the unexpected taste of sugar when they thought
they were eating salt appeared to nearly make them sick. The lump of
sugar would be quickly (and not very delicately) ejected from the mouth,
but when the native had had time to realise what he was eating he would
try it again, and then pass the lump around to the assembled populace,
each of whom licked it until it disappeared.
[Illustration: A PRIMITIVE SIGNALLING GONG.]
[Illustration: A GRAVE-HUT IN THE EQUATORIAL FOREST.]
On the way to the Akela country we found few opportunities for sport.
Stalking is almost impossible in forest so dense as that through which
we were travelling, so that to go out in search of buffalo, antelope, or
pig would really have been a waste of time. Upon two occasions, however,
I did try for a shot at buffalo, which are fairly numerous wherever
there are patches of grass land in this part of the forest. Although I
approached very near indeed to both of the herds I attempted to stalk,
the ferns in which they were concealed were so thick that I could not
obtain a glimpse of the animals before they got my wind, or were alarmed
by the slight noise which I could not avoid making as I progressed. I
cannot help thinking, however, that had I succeeded in bagging one of
these beasts, we should have added a third species of buffalo to the
two of which we obtained specimens later on, and quite possibly the
buffalo from the forest might have turned out to be unknown to science,
as did the animals we shot later on the Kwilu River. Judging by the size
of their tracks, the small impression they made when moving fast upon
soft ground, and the low cover which sufficed to hide them, leads me to
believe that these buffalo are of a smaller and lighter variety than
either the Congo buffalo (_Bos caffer nanus_) which I killed when we were
staying at the Mushenge at the end of the year, or the Kwilu buffalo
(_Bos caffer simpsoni_) which we discovered on the banks of the Kwilu.
One or two single horns which I saw during our journey in the forest
would appear, by their small size, to support this theory. From a few
strips of skin which I found upon drums, &c., I think they must have been
of the same reddish colour as the Congo buffalo, of which male and female
specimens are to be found, stuffed, in the Natural History Museum at
South Kensington. Bush-buck and duikers are very numerous north of Lodja,
as is the ubiquitous red pig; and elephants are to be found in herds
of about a dozen head in the country near the Lomela River. The whole
of this country must be practically a _terra incognita_ to naturalists,
and a visit to it should amply repay the collector who cares to face the
hardships which the bad climate renders unavoidable.
After passing through the country occupied by the primitive Batetela and
their more civilised kinsmen, we came at last, about one hundred miles,
as the crow flies, north of Lodja, to the territory of the Akela, a
people whom we were particularly desirous of visiting, as nothing appears
to have been known about them in Europe previous to our visit. We found
them to be a typical forest people, very primitive in their culture, who
had only arrived in their present territory quite lately, having migrated
from beyond the main stream of the Congo within the memory of the older
men. They are a fine, tall people, whose women enjoy a great reputation
for beauty among the neighbouring tribes. How far this reputation is
justified I should be very sorry to say, for I have long since given up
attempting to judge of the personal appearance of African ladies; but one
thing is clear—if the Akela women are really admired it is for their own
charm, and not for any beauty which their costumes can lend them. They
are more scantily attired than any of the people which we came across,
even in the forest, where costumes are usually sketchy, for they wear no
other garment than a very minute piece of cloth between their legs, which
is supported by strings around their waists. Not only are the garments
so small as to be scarcely visible, but they are extremely rare; in
fact, we could only find one woman in the several villages we visited
who possessed a second “dress” when we were endeavouring to purchase an
example of Akela fashions for the Museum! The men are similarly attired
to the women, but their pieces of cloth are somewhat larger. The men,
too, frequently wear neat caps, made of the skins of monkeys, to prevent
the branches of the trees from disarranging their carefully “frizzed-out”
hair. But the most remarkable thing about the Akela, male and female, is
their lack of teeth. Many, in fact most of the tribes of the southern
Congo knock out one or two teeth when the boy or girl grows up, or else
they file away portions of the front teeth so as to form some definite
tribal design, but the Akela, as soon as they reach marriageable years,
knock out _all their incisor teeth_, in both upper and lower jaws! The
reason for this strange practice appears to be merely the fact that it
is fashionable. The absence of front teeth causes the lips, usually
protruding in the negro race, to recede, so that many Akela have quite a
European type of countenance. The usual means of removing teeth is quite
in accordance with the barbarity of the custom. The village blacksmith
places an iron wedge against the tooth, and hits it with a block of wood!
The tooth is thus broken off short at the gum. A result of the absence
of front teeth is a strange method of eating meat which we found among
the Akela. They cannot, of course, bite off a morsel from a piece of meat
held in the hand, as do most natives when dining, so they hold their
knives, point upwards, between their toes, and cut off mouthfuls of meat
by drawing it along the edges.
[Illustration: AN AKELA CUTTING UP HIS FOOD.]
[Illustration: AKELA WARRIORS.]
Their villages are built in just sufficient cleared ground to contain
the number of huts required, and are often very picturesque, for they
frequently contain palm-trees. The huts are made of leaves, and many of
them are so primitive as to lack walls, resembling the sheds under which
the Bangongo work in the daytime at Misumba. But if their dwellings are
of a primitive nature, the houses which, in common with their Batetela
neighbours, they erect over the tombs of their dead are well built, neat,
and tidy. Respect for the graves of the departed is more noticeable among
the peoples of the forest than among any of the other natives we visited.
One often passes deserted villages in this part of the country whose
inhabitants have left them and built another settlement upon the death
of a chief or some other important member of the community. In this the
primitive Batetela differ considerably from their more advanced cousins
of Mokunji, who, the reader will remember, were only too pleased to sell
us the skulls of their dead. We did not collect any skulls in the forest;
to have suggested that any should be brought to us would have grievously
wounded the feelings of the natives. The Akela provide little houses for
their chickens, a luxury to which most Congo fowls are unaccustomed.
In their methods of warfare these immigrants from the north display a
difference from their neighbours, for shields are still in use among
them. These are hewn out of solid wood, but are remarkably light, and are
large enough to afford ample shelter to a man crouching behind them. We
were not so hospitably received by the Akela as by their neighbours, and
even had great difficulty in persuading them to lead us from one village
to another, but no violence was attempted towards us, and the people
appeared to be quite peaceful if not provoked by any act of aggression
on the part of the traveller or his men. On the whole, we were not sorry
when, turning southwards from a point about five-and-twenty miles south
of the Government station of Lomela, and, marching along the well-worn
caravan track which is usually followed from Lodja to Lomela, we at last
reached that land of plenty and hospitable natives, Kandolo’s territory,
and thence retraced our steps to the Lukenye. Our wanderings among the
Batetela had shown us what an extraordinary difference can exist in
manners and customs and in general character in peoples occupying similar
country; for as my narrative, I hope, has shown, no two tribes could
be less alike than the Bankutu and their Batetela neighbours. I have
already stated that when we were leaving the forest an idea was mooted
of colonising the Bankutu country with the captured Batetela mutineers,
and this plan appears to me to be an admirable one. The villages near
Lodja, such as Kandolo, show what Batetela energy can get out of the rich
forest soil, and the rapid spread of civilised ideas, emanating from the
more advanced Batetela, can influence their neighbours. It seems quite
reasonable to hope, therefore, that the colonisation of the Bankutu
country by civilised Batetela will lead to the cannibals around Kole
gradually absorbing the ideas of the new-comers, and thus step by step
advancing from their degraded condition. The Bankutu is too much of a
savage to understand or appreciate any innovations introduced directly
by the European, but he may be able to receive the seed of civilisation
sown by other natives, and soon be ready to receive and even welcome
the changes in his mode of life which the arrival of the white man must
inevitably introduce among the native races over whom he rules. A scheme
for the civilisation of the peoples of the southern portion of the great
equatorial forest would be to introduce any useful innovations that may
be acceptable to the progressive Batetela and allow them to pass them on
to their neighbours; for the primitive peoples of the forest would be
more likely to copy the ways of another native tribe than those of the
white man himself.
We spent some days in Lodja after our journey in the forest, to rest
after the fatigue of almost daily marching, and here our fox-terrier
bitch, which together with a young dog we had brought out with us from
England, presented us with a litter of puppies. With the exception of
one, which died in a few weeks’ time, all the puppies lived and thrived,
an indication that hardy European dogs, such as fox-terriers, can exist
and reproduce even in the bad climate of the forest. We gave away the
father of the litter and all the puppies excepting one to various white
men whom we met, but Sanga, the mother, and Lubudi, the puppy we kept,
stayed with us until our wanderings were at an end, and never were sick
nor sorry for a single day. At the end of our journey, Lubudi was given
to some nuns who were proceeding to a mission station, but Sanga returned
with us to Europe, only to succumb to an abscess on the brain, after
enduring the captivity enforced by the quarantine regulations and the
rigours of one English winter. Poor little Sanga! She was a faithful
companion, and I think that the shooting of her after our return was
far the most unpleasant task I was called upon to perform in connection
with our journey. She is buried in a Kentish garden, quite close to
the cottage where she was born, and a little tombstone marks the last
resting-place of a bitch who travelled far and endured many hardships and
privations. She never loved the natives except our own “boys,” but all
the natives who saw her were most anxious to possess her, and used to
offer us high prices for her. It used to be quite amusing to place her on
a table and promise to give her to any one who would lift her from it.
Several people have approached the table, but no one has dared to touch
her!
Upon leaving Lodja we marched to Idanga, the Kasai Company’s factory, on
the left bank of the Sankuru at the confluence of that river with the
Lubefu. The way lay through several outlying villages of the Bankutu, but
these people were far less disagreeable than their kinsmen around Kole,
and our progress through their country was uneventful. We were delighted
to leave the forest, and, weary and footsore as we were, to reach a place
by the riverside where travelling is done in canoes, and where we could
work up at our leisure the results of our wanderings in the equatorial
forest.