CHAPTER VIII

INTO THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY

As soon as our loads and a European mail—the last which we should see for

some time to come—had arrived from Kikwit, we engaged a number of Babunda

porters and started off to the Kasai Company’s factory of Dumba upon the

banks of the Lubue, a journey which we accomplished in two long stages.

Upon the morning of the second day we crossed the Lubue, and then turned

northwards, following its right bank to the factory. The river where we

crossed it is only about thirty yards wide, and is broken up into rapids

by great masses of rock in its bed, over which a rough bridge of poles

has been erected. When we reached the valley of the Lubue we left the

high plateau which exists between that river and the Kwilu and entered a

very hilly country. At Dumba the Lubue is about forty yards in width, and

there is no strip of forest upon its banks. The hills rise sheer from the

water’s edge to a height of three or four hundred feet above the river,

and behind them the steep undulations attain a height of fully twelve

hundred feet above the stream. The country here consists of grass land

studded with large numbers of those stunted trees which around Alela are

conspicuous by their absence. Between Dumba and the point where the Lubue

falls into the Kasai the river is unbroken by rapids, so that a canoe

or iron whale boat can ply between Dumba and the factory called Lubue

upon the Kasai, but the stream is so strong that it takes a well-manned

boat eight days to reach Dumba from the main river, and the journey is

by no means a pleasant one, for the Badinga, who inhabit the country

near to the Kasai, are very hostile to the white man, and will not sell

any food to a traveller ascending or descending the Lubue; in addition

to this there is always quite a possibility that they might attack him.

The factory of Dumba lies upon the bank of the river closely surrounded

by hills, and owing to this enclosed situation the heat there is far

more oppressive than upon the wind-swept uplands of Alela, and although

the Kasai Company have been installed there only four years, two little

crosses in a neatly kept space just outside the factory indicate that

the place is unhealthy for the white man. But excepting for the climate

the post of Dumba appeared to us to be just what a Congolese factory

should be; this is owing to the untiring energy of the agent who was in

charge of it at the time of our visit. Monsieur Bombeecke is one of those

happily constituted people who can make himself comfortable and contented

under any circumstances, and he has rendered Dumba quite the neatest

and most comfortable factory that we visited. He always has one or two

European agents living with him. One of these, who had just left previous

to our arrival, had been by trade a carpenter, and Monsieur Bombeecke had

caused him to instruct several natives in this craft, with the result

that in the workshop which he has built all manner of useful articles are

manufactured. Monsieur Bombeecke and his native carpenter had turned out

a very neat and ingenious wooden letter-press to replace the iron one

belonging to the Company, which had been broken, and the chairs, tables,

and other furniture at Dumba, although of course of a somewhat rough

and ready nature, were of a far better quality than one would expect

in so remote a district, and the woodwork of his bungalow was all of

exceptional solidity and neatness; the doors closed properly, the sashes

fitted the windows, and there was a strong and well made flight of steps

leading from the ground to the door.

[Illustration: CROSSING THE LUBUE.]

[Illustration: A BAPENDE DANCE AT DUMBA.]

But perhaps Dumba is most remarkable for its vegetable gardens. Monsieur

Bombeecke thoroughly understands the cultivation of vegetables, and

he had established two gardens at his factory, one for use in the dry

season and the other during the rains, with the result that all the year

round he has so abundant a supply of vegetables that he can send most

welcome presents of them to both his neighbours at Alela and Bienge. Upon

arriving in Africa this enterprising trader had commenced the study of

cookery with the aid of a cookery book, and as a result he had been able

to teach his cook to serve up a dinner which would do credit to any small

country hotel with nothing but the plain stores which the Company issues

to its agents to compose it. Monsieur Bombeecke rightly believes that

in order to maintain one’s strength in Central Africa it is absolutely

necessary to study as much as possible one’s personal comfort, and his

own robust condition testifies to the value of his methods. But it was

not only by the creature comforts of good living that our stay at Dumba

was rendered enjoyable, for we now began to learn something more of the

Bakongo people, and our hope of being able to enter their territory began

to rise by leaps and bounds, for we discovered that Monsieur Bombeecke,

whose popularity among the natives surrounding his factory is very great,

had come into friendly contact with one or two outlying Bakongo villages.

From him we learned that although the main portion of the Bakongo tribe

resides in the unexplored country to the east of the Loange River, there

are a certain number of their villages upon its left or western shore,

dotted about among settlements of the Bapende, with which latter people

Monsieur Bombeecke was on very friendly terms. He suggested to us that

he should accompany us to one of these Bapende villages near the Loange

whose chief he knew to be friendly with the Bakongo, and that having

associated ourselves with this chief we should endeavour to obtain

through him an introduction to the Bakongo. As, thanks to Sam, the only

member of our party who had been with us at Pana, we enjoyed a tremendous

reputation as hunters (I discovered that I myself had shot twenty

buffaloes in a week!), we decided to attempt to enter the unknown country

in the capacity of sportsmen, and to give out that we would be willing to

shoot buffaloes or any other game and supply the villages with meat if

the natives would allow us to stay with them and to slowly make our way

eastwards towards the Kasai. We knew that we should be misunderstood and

almost certainly arouse suspicion if we told the Bakongo, as we had told

the people of the Mushenge, that we had come among them in order to learn

something of their ways; we therefore considered it wiser to keep the

real object of our coming a secret. We could hardly expect to enter the

unknown country as traders, for the Bakongo have never yet traded with

the white man; missionaries have never even been heard of by the natives

of this district, so that we could not appear to pose as such; and indeed

it seemed probable that the capacity of hunters was the only one in which

we could reasonably hope to effect an entry into the Bakongo country.

Monsieur Bombeecke informed us that although he knew next to nothing

about the Bakongo he believed there existed somewhere on the eastern

side of the Loange one great paramount chief of the whole tribe, whose

name he had heard was Goman Vula, a piece of information which seemed

to coincide with what we had heard at the Mushenge of a big chief among

the Bashilele people. We were confident that if once we could visit this

ruler of the Bakongo and establish anything like friendly relations with

him we should be able to make a real study of his tribe, so to find and

make the acquaintance of this man became the object of the early part of

our journey to the Kasai. But although we had now learned that we could

easily get into touch with natives who were friends and neighbours of the

Bakongo, we fully expected to have to spend many weeks in hunting near

the Loange River before we could get to know the Bakongo sufficiently

well for them to allow us to cross the stream and enter the unknown land.

In the immediate neighbourhood of Dumba there are settlements of both the

Bapende and Babunda peoples, so that the days we spent at the factory

were by no means idle, for large numbers of both tribes came to see us,

and upon one occasion the Bapende held a dance in our honour in which

nearly three hundred people took part. The Babunda were not quite so

reticent as those who dwelt around Alela, and Torday was able to amplify

his notes upon that tribe, while I occupied a good deal of my time in

taking and developing photographs of various native types. The Bapende

are much given to the use of the tukula dye, which is so common among

the Bushongo. They wear their hair in little tassels resembling a mop on

the tops of their heads, and it is by no means uncommon to find those

whose hair is not of sufficient length to admit of its being dressed in

this fashion wearing wigs. The Bapende ladies adorn their legs with such

a weight of brass in the shape of anklets, sometimes as many as eight

on each leg, the total weight of which would be about 16 lbs., that

walking is extremely difficult, and they are often to be seen standing

upon one leg and supporting their other foot in their hand, or pausing

and kneeling down or sitting to rest even during quite a short walk. The

most ornamental objects which the Bapende manufacture are small models of

human faces carved out of ivory and worn suspended from a string around

the neck. These little masks are purchased from the medicine-man, and

are considered as infallible charms against various diseases. Our way

from Dumba to the Loange lay entirely through Bapende territory. The day

before we set out on our journey all our Bambala porters came to us in a

body and inquired if it was really true that we still intended to enter

the country of the Bakongo. Upon Torday replying in the affirmative,

our men said that the Baluba employés of the factory had told them

that we should all most certainly be massacred if we made the attempt,

and they requested us to allow them to return to their homes. Torday

immediately acceded to their request, and told them to return to him

at midday to receive their wages and their rations for the journey. We

were now in a most awkward predicament, for we did not know the local

Bapende sufficiently well to be able to induce them to accompany us

upon the journey which they could not but regard as highly dangerous,

and we certainly could not hope to succeed in reaching the Kasai if we

were accompanied by any of the low-class Baluba from the factory, even

if these cowardly people could have been persuaded to go with us. Our

outlook, therefore, was not very bright. Long before midday, however, our

Bambala returned and inquired whether, if they returned to their homes,

we should persist in going on towards the Kasai. Torday assured them that

we should. “Then of course we will go with you,” said the Bambala, and

from that moment not one of our men showed the slightest desire to turn

back. When we left Dumba we marched over a ridge, about 1000 feet above

the level of the river, which ran north and south beside the banks of the

Lubue, forming a barrier between that river and the valley of the Luana,

a stream some fifty yards in width which flows parallel to the Lubue

midway to the Loange and falls into the Lubue a short distance above the

confluence with that river to the Kasai. The Luana flows through a valley

about eight miles wide, and to the east of this valley there lies another

high ridge separating the basin of the Luana from that of the Loange.

A greater portion of this country consists of grass land, but there is

a good deal of wood around the Luana. Monsieur Bombeecke, as he had

promised, accompanied us upon our journey, and, marching by easy stages,

we reached upon the sixth day Kangala, the village of the Bapende chief

who we hoped would introduce us to the Bakongo. The day before reaching

Kangala we caught our first glimpse of a Bakongo village. This lay in

a small clearing in the woods, and was surrounded by a stout stockade

consisting of posts about eight or nine feet high driven firmly into the

ground. Monsieur Bombeecke had passed by this village before, but had

never been invited to enter it, and, knowing the hostility of the Bakongo

to the white man, he had never risked arousing their indignation by

attempting to pass the narrow entrance to the village without a special

invitation from the chief. It had been his custom, however, to halt for

a few minutes under a shed situated outside the walls, and there have a

friendly chat with such of the natives as would come and talk to him.

Upon our arrival a good number of the villagers came out to see us, and

the chief offered us some palm wine in quaintly-carved black wooden cups,

in the manufacture of which the Bakongo are remarkably skilful. Torday

noticed at once a similarity in the patterns with which these cups were

ornamented and those which we had found among the Bushongo, another piece

of evidence to support his theory that these two peoples are nearly

related. We offered a good price for one or two of the cups, and in a few

minutes had succeeded in purchasing several. We then continued our march.

In every village we passed through we took all the opportunities we could

of purchasing curios, among which we secured specimens of the curious

wooden masks and palm cloth dresses in which the Bapende boys array

themselves for the ceremony of initiation when they enter man’s estate.

During this ceremony, which lasts several days, the lads have to spend

all their time in the forest or in the bush, and are obliged to keep out

of sight of other people. The purchase of one of the masks might easily

have led us into trouble, for one of our boys who belonged to another

tribe and was quite unversed in Bapende customs, carried the thing about

the villages exposed to the public gaze, a proceeding which caused a good

deal of indignation on the part of the Bapende, who firmly believe that

if a woman sets eyes on one of these masks she will die. Luckily no women

happened to be passing at the time, so we were soon able to sooth the

ruffled feelings of the natives.

[Illustration: KANGALA.]

[Illustration: BAPENDE BOYS WEARING MASKS.]

The village of Kangala, whose chief was to put us in communication with

the Bakongo, lies in open country upon the ridge which forms the western

or left-hand side of the Loange River. Except that the country around it

consists of grass land, the place is somewhat suggestive of a Saharan

oasis. The huts are dotted about in a veritable forest of palm-trees,

and few if any other kind of trees are to be found within the village.

Everywhere you go you walk in the shade of the palms, and the little

square grass-thatched houses look extremely pretty in so picturesque

an environment. The place is a large one, and crowds of natives can be

seen at all hours of the day manufacturing cloth at looms placed under

the trees, making baskets, or pounding cassava into flour. The chief,

Dilonda, had erected quite a commodious hut for the use of Monsieur

Bombeecke, whom he evidently held in very high esteem, and it was outside

this hut, accompanied by one or two chiefs of lesser importance, that

we found Dilonda waiting for us upon our arrival in the village. He

wore around his neck a great number of charms, such as the little ivory

masks to which I have alluded, similar masks made in metal, leopards’

teeth, whistles, and other objects. He was a big and powerfully-built

man, save that one of his legs appeared to be shrivelled, so that he

was obliged to walk with the aid of a stick. Dilonda received us well,

Monsieur Bombeecke’s introduction evidently being a sufficient guarantee

as to our respectability, and after an interchange of presents (chickens

and a goat on his side, trade cloth, &c., upon ours), we proceeded to

impress the crowd which was assembled by playing a few pieces upon the

phonograph. This, as usual, astonished and delighted the audience, and we

could see that the people were quite prepared to regard us as something

in the way of wizards. Monsieur Bombeecke informed Dilonda that we were

mighty hunters on our way home, that in order to reach our country it

was necessary for us to proceed across the territory of the Bakongo and

Bashilele to the upper waters of the Kasai, and that on our way we were

ready to shoot buffaloes, elephants, hippopotami—in short, any kind

of animal, and give the meat to the natives whose villages we passed

through. He also explained that we wished to purchase all manner of

objects such as the natives had never previously had an opportunity of

selling, and that we had not come in search of rubber, a commodity with

which he well knew the Bakongo would have nothing to do. He then asked

Dilonda if he knew anything of the country around the Loange. We were

considerably surprised when the chief clearly showed us that he knew how

the Kasai took a turn to the westward at its confluence with the Sankuru,

for it is very rare indeed to find a native who knows anything of the

geography of a district so far from his own village. Finding Dilonda

very agreeable we very soon came to the point, and asked him directly

whether he would be prepared, if we gave him a substantial present, to

establish friendly relations between us and the Bakongo. We said that we

had heard that there was a place upon the Loange some few days’ march to

the northward where buffaloes abounded, and we inquired if he would be

willing to accompany us there and to help us to induce the Bakongo to

allow us to hunt in their country.

Now Dilonda was a greedy person, and I am sure that the offer of a

substantial present would lead him to attempt almost anything, but at the

same time Monsieur Bombeecke told us that we could rely upon the man, and

that if he consented to help us we could be assured that he would use his

best endeavours to do so. Dilonda at once showed himself much against our

scheme of going to the north. He told us that although the Bakongo in his

own immediate neighbourhood were sufficiently hostile to the European

to desire to have nothing whatever to do with him, those further to the

north were far more hostile still, and, although it was just possible he

might in time be able to induce them to receive us, it was quite likely

that we should be attacked if we entered their territory. He himself and

his tribe did not desire to enter into any quarrel with the Bashongo, of

whom, I think, they stand in considerable awe, and we had insufficient

men with us to be able to defend ourselves successfully in the event of

trouble breaking out. He therefore considered that our best plan would

be to remain for a day or two in his village while he proceeded to a

small Bakongo settlement called Insashi, which lay upon the left bank

of the Loange only a few miles from Kangala. He explained to us that

the chief of this village was his personal friend, and he had no doubt

that we would be peacefully received there. We therefore decided to take

his advice and to remain for a few days at Kangala. During this time we

showed Dilonda our clockwork elephant, and nothing would satisfy him

but that we should present him with one if he could establish friendly

relations with the Bakongo. The less inclined we were to part with the

elephant the more anxious was he to possess it, and after a time we

became certain that there was very little that he would not do for us in

order to obtain so powerful a fetish. We knew, however, sufficient of the

negro not to part with the coveted toy before Dilonda had fully earned

it, so we agreed with him that should we succeed in reaching the Kasai

we should send the elephant to Monsieur Bombeecke, who undertook to give

it to Dilonda. In the meantime, as an earnest of our good intentions,

we gave him a substantial present of iron and trade cloth. Dilonda told

us that the two commodities which would prove the most saleable in the

country beyond the Loange were machettes and bars of iron. Now those

two commodities are about the most awkward to carry of any of the trade

goods used in the Kasai. The machettes are not so bad as the iron, for

a considerable number of these knives can be made up into a load to be

carried on a pole by two men, but the square or round bars of iron, cut

into lengths of about one foot each, are extremely heavy, and at the

rate at which they are sold it practically means that one has to employ

one man to carry every eight shillings’ worth of this “money” that one

takes. With our very small number of porters the difficulty presented by

this was a considerable one, for it meant that in the unknown country

our own men would have to undertake each stage of the journey at least

twice until the iron was used up, for even if we could persuade the

Bakongo to carry our loads for us, we should certainly not be able to

trust them with a commodity which they covet so strongly. From Kangala

we sent a small caravan back to Dumba, where we purchased from Monsieur

Bombeecke’s assistant a further supply of iron and knives. As we stood

upon the high ground outside Dilonda’s village we could look across the

valley of the Loange, which is here about seven or eight miles wide,

and catch a glimpse of the unknown country which lay before us. We had

heard from other white men that the Bakongo and Bashilele are cannibals

of the most terrible character inhabiting a densely wooded country, and

yet as we gazed across the river, we could see to the eastwards, beyond

a comparatively narrow strip of forest which borders the Loange, great

rolling grassy downs on which scarcely a tree was visible. Evidently the

description of the country which had been given to us was completely

false, and we asked ourselves why should not the ferocity of the

inhabitants also have been much exaggerated? We thought that while we

were at Kangala it would be just as well to shoot a little game, if any

existed, in order to show the natives that we really were hunters, and to

give them some idea of the power of our sporting rifles, but although

there were a few buffaloes in the neighbourhood, we were not able to

obtain a shot at them owing to the anxiety on the part of the Bapende to

obtain a present for discovering where the animals were feeding.

Upon one occasion two or three of Dilonda’s people, who had gone out to

look for game, came upon some buffaloes lying down in a cassava field,

but the men made such a noise in their dispute as to who should go and

inform us that the animals were there, and so obtain a present, that

the beasts were frightened and took to the forest in the direction of

a Bakongo village, whither it was impossible for us to follow them,

for here, as in most parts of Central Africa, each village has its

own hunting ground, and any attempt at poaching might easily lead to

war. Dilonda himself caused us quite a lot of amusement. Although he

considered himself no small personage, and was evidently the greatest

of all the Bapende chiefs in the neighbourhood, it used to delight

him to sit upon a little stool beside our table and beg for spoonfuls

of mustard. For a time we could not understand his craving for this

delicacy, but Monsieur Bombeecke, who knew him well, explained to us

that he ate the stuff solely with the object of causing a thirst, for

Dilonda was much addicted to palm wine. Not only was he fond of the

mustard, but he was extremely anxious to possess the little earthenware

pot that contained it. It appears that he was in the habit of boasting to

his cronies of the enormous number of cups of palm wine which he could

consume at a sitting, and he thought that if he drank the beverage out

of so small a vessel as a mustard-pot the number of drinks he could

get through would be enormously increased. No doubt he would not have

allowed his boon companions to know the trick he was playing upon them

by using this small cup, and I tremble to think of the results which

might ensue if his friends, using the ordinary sized wooden cup which

would contain about three-quarters of a pint, should attempt to imbibe a

greater number of drinks than Dilonda. Dilonda was for ever attempting

to get something out of us, and with this object he was always pointing

out all the services he was going to render us, and the accuracy of

the information which he imparted to us. He usually ended up every

sentence with the remark, “O, he is no liar is Dilonda.” But although

he was quite ready to accept anything that we offered him, Dilonda was

by no means generous in the presents he offered to us. He possessed a

few of the black and white sheep which are bred by the Badjok near the

Portuguese frontier. The Badjok frequently sent caravans up into this

district and into the country between the Loange and the Kasai in search

of rubber and ivory; in fact we had high hopes of meeting with a caravan

of these people, who are friendly to the European, during the course

of our journey eastwards, for we believed it was quite possible they

might help us to reach our destination. Dilonda had doubtless purchased

his sheep from these traders, but he kept them more as an ornament to

his village than as animals to be killed and eaten. We several times

cast favourable glances upon these animals. With the exception of a

few meals at Dima, four months before, we had not tasted mutton since

the Christmas of 1907, and I think that life in Central Africa tends

to make one greedy, particularly if one is living in districts where

game is so scarce that one has little or no break in the monotony of

meals off skinny chickens and insipid goats’ meat. We therefore hoped

that Dilonda, in exchange for the numerous presents that we made him,

might feel himself bound to offer us a sheep. One day when we made some

remark about his flock, the crafty old chief called us aside and said,

“I think your boys are thieves. When I saw you looking at the sheep, and

I remembered that I had only given you one small goat, shame seized me,

and I said to myself, ‘Dilonda, give the white man one of your sheep’; so

I called your boys and gave them a fine fat animal and told them to take

it to you, but I do not think you have received it. Your boys must have

stolen it and eaten it themselves.” We did not believe this story, of

course, but we made inquiries and discovered that no sheep had ever been

handed over to our servants. When we told Dilonda of this the old ruffian

merely laughed, amused rather than annoyed that his falsehood had been

discovered and his meanness found out. In a few days old Dilonda informed

us that the Bakongo of Insashi would be willing to allow us to visit

their village, and we accordingly started out, accompanied by Monsieur

Bombeecke, Dilonda, and a couple of lesser chiefs, to cover the five or

six miles in the valley of the Loange between Kangala and Insashi. As

we drew near to the Bakongo village, the Bapende warned us to tell our

men to make as little noise as possible so that the Bakongo might not

at the last moment take fright at our approach and either desert their

village or attack us. As we stepped out of the woods into the clearing

in which Insashi stood, we fully expected to find a crowd of curious,

if not hostile people waiting to look at us. To our surprise, however,

the few people whom we saw outside the stockade were all engaged upon

their ordinary daily occupations, such as weaving or wood-carving, and

paid little or no attention to us as we walked to the shed outside the

stockade, which the Bapende informed us had been placed at our disposal.

As we were seated beneath the shade of this structure, the Bakongo chief

came to welcome us. Torday, through the medium of a Bapende interpreter,

explained to this man the object of our visit, laying stress upon the

fact that we only required to go to the Kasai and to spend our time in

hunting upon the journey. He gave the chief a very substantial present,

and asked him if he would allow his people to ferry us across the river

in their canoes. We were a little surprised to learn that there were no

canoes upon the left bank of the river. This is a precaution against

invasion, for the Loange is fully half a mile in width, and its current

is so strong as to preclude the possibility of an enemy crossing it by

swimming; the Bakongo, therefore, by keeping their canoes on the right,

or eastern shore, cause the river to become an insurmountable barrier

to any would-be invader. Should the Bakongo on the left bank desire to

visit their countrymen they have to go down to the water’s edge and shout

until a canoe is sent to them from a village which lies just opposite on

the eastern shore. The chief of Insashi, well pleased with his present,

informed us that he and Dilonda would ask the people of the further bank

to ferry them over on the morrow, and that they would then use their

best endeavours to persuade them to send sufficient canoes to carry us

and our loads. While we were talking to the chief a considerable number

of natives, including many women, crowded round to look at us, and we

purchased several articles from them, always paying very high prices

with the object of inducing them to bring us other things for sale. In

the evening Torday and I thought that it would be as well to shoot a few

monkeys in the forest close at hand in order that we might present their

carcases to the chief as food. We therefore went out and bagged a colobus

and one or two cercopithecus monkeys, with which the chief of Insashi was

greatly pleased. But on the morrow we repented bitterly of having shot

them, for the report of the 12-bore and the crack of the Mannlicher had

been heard across the river, and the chief of Insashi, when he returned

the following evening from his trip to the other bank, informed us that

the Bakongo there had come to the conclusion that we were attacking

Insashi, and that he had had the greatest difficulty in persuading them

to send canoes for us. At last, however, attracted by hearing of the

presents we had given to the chief of Insashi, they had agreed to do so,

but he, the chief, told us that we must not be surprised if at the last

moment they changed their minds. We had not been many hours in Insashi

before we were invited to pass through the entrance of the stockade and

inspect the interior of the village. The houses there resembled those of

the Bushongo, and, each having its own little courtyard, they reminded

us of the huts of the Mushenge. There were certain other evidences as

well, in the character of the weapons used and the various utensils that

we saw about the place, that the Bakongo were in reality related to the

subjects of the Nyimi. In the centre of the village there was an open

space where meetings and dances are held, the huts being built around

this in close proximity to the stockade. Between the buildings and the

wall, however, there was a passage admitting of the defenders hurrying to

and fro in case the village was attacked. The stockade was strongly built

of palm-leaf stems, attaining a height of about ten feet. These stems

are placed so close together as to form a very efficient defence against

an enemy armed only with bows and arrows or spears, and any attempt to

rush these defences across the open space which had been cleared around

them without first breeching the stockade could only result in very heavy

loss to the attacking side if the garrison put up a determined defence.

A modern rifle bullet would, of course, pass through the stockade as

through so much paper, but it would be extremely difficult to observe the

position of the defenders through the fence so as to be able to inflict

any great loss upon them. The gates in the stockade, of which there are

several, are so small as to admit of only one person entering at a time.

[Illustration: A BAKONGO VILLAGE, PHOTOED FROM THE TOP OF ITS STOCKADE.]

[Illustration: A VIEW OF THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY FROM KANGALA.]

For a space of about fifty yards all round the defences, outside the

village, the ground was cleared, and here stood a number of granaries

in which the crops are stored. These granaries are built as neatly as

the dwelling-houses, and stand upon piles in order to keep away mice

and other vermin. It struck us as remarkable that the supply of food

should be kept outside the village, but they are situated well within

arrow-range of the defences, and I think that the reason for building

them apart from the dwelling-houses must be to prevent the food-stuffs

from attracting a large amount of vermin into the village. Also outside

the walls we found a number of sheds, used as shelters from the sun,

in which the Bakongo weave their cloth and pass their time in smoking

and discussing the local gossip, as do the natives of Misumba. We soon

fell to discussing with the chief of Insashi the route we should have

to follow in order to reach the Kasai. We discovered that he knew very

little about it, he never having been so far as the great river himself,

but we did learn from him that, as Monsieur Bombeecke had told us, there

is in reality one great chief of all the Bakongo people. He would say

very little about this great man, and even went so far as to state that

he did not know where his village lay, but by putting together scraps of

information we gathered that it must be situated nearer to the Loange

than to the Kasai, somewhere to the north-east of the point where we

should cross the former river. We told the chief of Insashi that we would

handsomely reward any one who would put us into communication with the

great chief, and that we had some valuable presents for that important

personage if he would deign to receive us. The chief of Insashi promised

us that he would ask his compatriots to help us in this respect, but

the name Goman Vula was always mentioned with bated breath, and we

could clearly see that it would be difficult to obtain access to his

village or, if we failed in this, any precise information about him

or his court. During the couple of days that we spent at Insashi we

employed our followers in the construction of a rough bridge over the

extremely swampy ground which lies in the forest between the village

and the river bank. Nobody in the least objected to our doing this, and

we found ourselves free to do practically what we liked and to wander

about the village without causing any annoyance to anybody; and as the

natives upon the eastern shore had promised to fetch us in their canoes,

we began to think that our journey to the Kasai would after all present

few difficulties, and I remember that we wrote very cheerful letters

home, to be taken back to Dumba by Monsieur Bombeecke when he returned

after seeing us across the Loange. On the 21st of May we bade adieu

to this gentleman, whose popularity with the natives had contributed

so much to the cordiality of the reception we had met with among the

Bapende, and also to our introduction to the Bakongo, and conveyed all

our loads from the village to the waterside. Some canoes appeared under

the bushes of the farther shore and approached us, but the sight of so

many packages led the boatmen to believe that our party must be a very

much larger one than it had been represented to be, and they returned

to their own side of the river in doubt as to our peaceful intentions.

The chief of Insashi thereupon commenced to shout for them to return.

As the Loange is, at this point, fully eight hundred yards wide, and

as it took quite two hours continuous shouting to produce any signs of

life on the opposite bank, the chief’s voice must have come in for a

pretty considerable strain, but eventually three canoes of moderate size

appeared, and the work of embarking our baggage was begun. Torday crossed

in the first canoe. He was accompanied by a couple of the Bambala, who

habitually acted as gun-bearers to us when out shooting, but he took no

arms with him of any kind, realising that the Bakongo were still highly

suspicious of us, and that the sight of arms might provoke an attack or

cause the boatmen to maroon him upon a sandbank in mid-stream, from which

escape would be quite impossible unless the natives could be persuaded

to return for him with a canoe. As I have said, the Loange at this

point is about eight hundred yards wide. For the greater part of this

distance the water is extremely shallow, so shallow indeed that paddles

are never employed by the boatmen, the canoes being propelled by means

of poles. There is, however, one portion of the river—about fifty yards

in width—where the water is considerably deeper, and here the stream is

so rapid that a canoe upon entering it from the more sluggish water is

swept downwards with most alarming rapidity. For this reason any attempt

to cross the Loange by means of swimming could only end in disaster, and

as the width of the river rendered any kind of bridge impossible, we were

entirely dependent upon the goodwill of the Bakongo boatmen. I watched

Torday’s canoe disappear between the bushes upon the eastern shore

with my field-glasses, and I must confess that the minutes seemed like

hours before I saw the canoe reappear and commence to cross the stream

with the evident intention of ferrying over the remainder of our loads.

The boatmen brought me a note from Torday informing me that everything

had gone well and that all the loads which accompanied him had safely

arrived in the forest on the far shore. This news came as a considerable

relief to my feelings, for had any attempt been made to attack him we

should have been quite unable to render any assistance. The work of

transporting all our goods across the river occupied several hours, but

after a short time one of the canoes brought me over a second note from

Torday saying that he had encountered two or three Bakongo women who had

come down to fetch water, and that these had readily consented to carry

some of our packages up to the village for a liberal wage, to be paid in

salt. This was a highly satisfactory commencement to our journey, and

when I myself came over the river with the last loads at about 5 P.M., I

was delighted and not a little surprised to find that these worthy ladies

had not only carried up the loads given to them, but had returned for

more and brought other people with them, so that all our baggage had been

removed to the village. We ourselves followed just as the sun was going

down. The village in which we spent the night is called Insashi, like

its neighbour on the left bank of the river; it lies on the edge of the

forest belt at a distance of about a mile and a half from the water. It

is quite a small place, and although, like all Bakongo villages, it is

surrounded by a stockade, its defences were in a tumble-down condition,

and except that it is the home of the boatmen who keep up communication

with the outlying villages of the Bakongo on the western side of the

river, the place appears to be of very little importance. We were well

received by the aged chief. This man was an acquaintance of Dilonda, and

evidently had accepted his statements as regards the inoffensive nature

of our visit, for not only did he produce the present of chickens which

is usually offered to the white man upon his arrival in a Congo village,

but he assured us that his people would be willing to convey our

belongings to another village next day, and discussed quite freely with

us the easiest route to the Kasai.

[Illustration: CARVING A WOODEN CUP AT INSASHI.]

[Illustration: THE CHIEF OF INSASHI CALLING FOR CANOES.]

We found that here, as in the village upon the western shore, the natives

in reality knew very little about their country beyond the radius of a

few miles from their homes; in fact there was not one man in the whole

village who had ever been as far as the Kasai. Here, too, the people

spoke of Goman Vula as little as they could, and it was very clear to us

that we should experience great difficulty in making acquaintance with

this great chief.

The Loange River, however, lay behind us, and we had been so far very

well received by the Bakongo, so that we really began to think that, even

if we could not find Goman Vula, our journey across the unknown tract was

likely to present fewer difficulties and dangers than we had expected.

After spending one night at this second village of Insashi we proceeded

about five or six miles in a south-south-easterly direction to Bwabwa,

the people of Insashi eagerly offering their services as porters for the

liberal wage of iron and knives which we agreed to pay them. As the whole

of the country between the Loange and the Kasai was represented by a

blank upon even the best maps of the Congo State, we had determined to do

our best to make some sort of a rough survey of our route with the aid of

a prismatic compass, and this work, commenced at Dumba, we now carried on

as carefully as we possibly could. As we were unable to retrace our steps

over any portion of the journey, we had to content ourselves with taking

such bearings as we could while on the march from village to village.

The map therefore which has resulted from our survey is by no means so

accurate or so complete as it would have been had we been able to devote

some days to going out from each village to map the country round. It

serves to show our route, however, and it is the best we could do under

the circumstances, which were sometimes very trying.

The village of Bwabwa is a new one, and it lies in open country on

the edge of the forest belt which borders the Loange River. As we

approached the village we noticed two peculiar fetishes or charms. The

first of these consisted in a miniature harpoon, a model of those used

for trapping elephants and hippopotami, suspended over the path close

to the entrance to the village. The second one consisted of a high

post placed in the centre of the village, from the top of which hung

creepers extended to each of the four corners of the stockade. This

latter charm, I believe, was considered particularly efficacious against

lightning. Dilonda accompanied us to Bwabwa, with the chief of which

village he was very friendly, and upon his recommendation the natives

received us well. We pitched our camp in the cleared ground outside the

stockade and settled down to make ourselves agreeable. Upon hearing

that we were hunters, the Bakongo at once suggested that we should on

the morrow accompany them to the river and endeavour to shoot some of

the buffalo which come down in the early morning to drink. Next day,

therefore, we started before daybreak together with two or three of our

Bambala and a few of the Bakongo, and having been ferried in a couple

of very small canoes across the Loange, we spent several hours in a

search for game. Although we were not successful in obtaining a shot, we

found fresh tracks of buffalo, elephant, hippopotami, bush-buck, and

sitatunga in large quantities, so that this part of the Loange River

must be considerably richer in game than most of the districts we passed

through. We visited several grassy islands near to the western shore,

and while doing so we came to the conclusion that we had been rather

foolish in allowing the Bakongo to take us there, for should they have

suddenly taken into their heads to get rid of us, nothing would have

been easier than for them to depart in their canoes and thus maroon

us upon the islands, from which, owing to the strength of the stream,

escape would have been quite impossible. When we returned in safety

to Bwabwa, therefore, we determined never again to place ourselves so

completely at the mercy of a people who, although they were friendly at

present, we certainly did not know sufficiently well to trust. Dilonda

stayed a couple of nights at Bwabwa and then returned to his home across

the river. He had certainly been most useful to us, for without his

introduction I have no doubt that it would have taken many weeks for

us to become friendly with the Bakongo upon either bank of the Loange,

and in addition to this he had evidently talked a good deal about our

clockwork elephant, for the natives of Bwabwa were very anxious to

see it. We displayed it once to the chief, but we were very careful

not to allow it to become “cheap” by showing it to any passing native

who might express a desire to look at it. We first noticed at Bwabwa

rather a curious thing about the Bakongo methods of hunting. Like the

Bushongo they employ a number of dogs with rattles strapped around

them to drive small game into nets in the forest, but among the Bakongo

the dogs, although belonging to various individuals, are all under the

care of one man who occupies a position somewhat similar to that of

the “kennel-huntsman” of an English fox-hound pack, and he daily feeds

all the dogs used for hunting. Most of the Bakongo carry little wooden

whistles suspended from a string around the neck, but the dogs appear to

easily distinguish the note of the kennel-man’s whistle, for they come

round him as soon as he sounds it to partake of the cassava dough with

which he feeds them. As a rule the dogs of the Bakongo appear to be very

well kept.

In discussing our route with the people of Bwabwa it appeared that our

next stage would be to a village named Bishwambura which lay about six

miles to the eastwards, but the people of Bwabwa declined to carry our

loads there, and insisted upon taking us to a small hamlet called Bwao,

situated about three miles to the north. We were not in a position to

insist upon going where we liked, so we had to be content with moving on

to this place, although by going there we were moving very little, if

any, further from the Loange than we were at present, and consequently

were making practically no progress towards the Kasai, and were having

to pay very high wages to the natives for carrying our loads these short

and useless stages. From Bwao, however, we did manage to get on to Bompe,

about four miles to the eastwards, having been warned by the people of

Bwao to be very careful how we treated the Bakongo of Bompe, for we were

assured that the slightest carelessness on our part would probably lead

to our being attacked.

We were, however, received in a most friendly spirit, our iron and knives

evidently being most welcome to the natives. After the village of Bompe

matters became more complicated, for there began to arise a difficulty as

to the form which the payment of the Bakongo who carried for us should

take. Living as they do exactly the same lives which the natives all over

Africa used to live before the white man invaded the Dark Continent, the

Bakongo have no real need for any article imported from Europe, with the

exception of knives or the iron bars from which their smiths can forge

arrow heads, and therefore every porter required to be paid either with

a knife or a 4 lb. bar of iron for carrying a load even the shortest

of stages. It will be understood, therefore, that our expenses were

very heavy and that our limited stock of knives and iron should begin

to dwindle to small proportions, it being quite impossible, now that

the Loange lay behind us, to send a caravan back to Dumba for a further

supply. Even at first when we were able to pay every one in the commodity

he or she required, the work of getting the loads transported was no

light task. As a rule the women were more eager to carry than the men; in

fact I have often given a load to a stalwart Bakongo warrior only to see

him transfer it immediately afterwards to the shoulders of his wife. But

the Bakongo ladies were very trying to deal with when we distributed the

packages in the morning preparatory to starting from a village; they all

preferred a small heavy load to a bulky light one, and whenever a package

could be divided between several people the shrewd matrons would call in

the services of all their children, often arriving at their destination

with four or five individuals carrying portions of one load, and every

one of these people expected to be paid the wage agreed upon for a full

burden. I have known very small children to accompany us carrying a

discarded empty bottle and demand payment at the end of the stage. Of

course it was essential for us to keep our tempers and to humour the

people as much as possible, otherwise we should doubtless have been

unable to move at all, but I can assure my readers that it is by no means

easy to remain unruffled when endeavouring to persuade a Bakongo lady to

carry a certain package when she has determined in her own mind to carry

another one.

One’s most pleasant manner and most inviting smile (a sort of

“do-take-this-one-it’s-quite-light-really” grin) are quite thrown away

on the Bakongo women. However, we tried our best to be agreeable, and

the number of dirty infants whom we daily chucked under the chin with

a view to ultimately securing their fond mothers’ services as porters

must have been very considerable. The fact that we could at first hardly

speak a word of the local language did not make matters much easier, and

altogether we were having a by no means enjoyable time during the early

part of our journey from the Loange to the Kasai. The people of Bompe, in

their anxiety to obtain iron, expressed their willingness to carry our

loads on to Bishwambura; and realising that the natives would, in all

probability, divide their loads up into small portions in the hope of

obtaining full payment for each, Torday decided to go on to Bishwambura

in advance, with most of our Bambala porters carrying the iron and

knives, there to await the arrival of our other baggage, while I was to

remain at Bompe to superintend the departure of the loads, and to give

to each porter who presented himself for service a slip of paper bearing

my initials; upon handing this to Torday at Bishwambura he would receive

the wage agreed upon. We thought that in this way we should be able to

prevent the endless splitting up of loads, but it only served to give the

Bakongo an opportunity of displaying a cunning that I should never have

imagined that they possessed. It so happened that a green canvas sack,

which contained a number of odds and ends left over from other packages,

was torn at the corner, revealing inside a broken packet of Reckitt’s

blue (a dye which was very popular with the natives for ornamenting their

faces). Now although they had never seen writing in any form before our

arrival, the Bakongo conceived the idea of attempting to manufacture the

vouchers for payment which I distributed to the porters. They picked up

scraps of paper which had been left lying about our camping ground, and

with the aid of a stick and Reckitt’s blue they made marks upon them,

fondly imagining that these marks would deceive Torday into paying them

for carrying loads which existed really only in their imagination. Of

course the trick was obvious at once, but Torday’s refusal to pay for

the forgeries caused the natives to mistrust the real vouchers which

I had given them, with the result that many of them threw down their

loads by the wayside and declined to carry them to Bishwambura. Torday

sent back the Bambala porters to assist me to bring on the remainder

of the baggage, and wrote me a note requesting me to come on as soon

as possible, and to have my rifle handy on the way, for he considered

it highly probable that we should have trouble with the disappointed

Bakongo. Our Bambala porters had always behaved in an exemplary manner

during the time they had been with us, and their quiet, inoffensive

manners had caused them to become popular in every village through

which we had passed, but we had never before had such an opportunity

of really testing them as during the march from Bompe to Bishwambura.

When they left Bompe with me they were carrying heavy loads hung upon

a pole between two men, but when we came to some packages abandoned by

the wayside, they cut the loads away from the pole, and, one man taking

what was really a burden for two, they picked up the boxes discarded by

the Bakongo, and proceeded to stagger on with them towards Bishwambura

before I had time even to hint to them that I wished this to be done. Our

Bambala were always ready to voluntarily undertake any extra work, and to

undergo any hardship which was necessary for the success of our journey,

and it is owing to the fact that we were accompanied by such gallant and

devoted followers that we were able to go through the trying times which

were to follow.

When I arrived at Bishwambura I found Torday under a shed outside the

stockade surrounded by an angry crowd of Bakongo all demanding payment

for carrying loads, and it appeared very much as if a breach of the

peace would follow his refusal to give everybody present a wage. He was

adamant, however, and finally the people of Bompe returned home in the

evening, grumbling and discontented, leaving us to get on as best we

could with the people of Bishwambura, whose acquaintance we had thus made

under by no means favourable circumstances. It was not to be expected

that they would be very friendly towards us, for they shared the dislike

which all the other Bakongo felt towards the white man, and our dispute

with the people of Bompe, although unavoidable, was hardly likely to make

them particularly friendly towards us, so that we were not surprised to

find ourselves treated once more in the same way as among the Bankutu

of the equatorial forest. The people would sell us no chickens, and for

some time declined to show us where to obtain good drinking water. Our

men, however, soon found a clear stream, and we had purchased at Bompe

a sufficient supply of living fowls to meet our immediate requirements,

and as the Bakongo were not averse to selling food to the Bambala, our

predicament was not a serious one. The chief difficulty lay in persuading

the natives to carry us on to the next village. They flatly refused to

take us over the rolling grassy plains which lay to the eastward, for

they told us that a party of Badjok traders were encamped in a village

in that direction, and that these Badjok, with whom the Bakongo were

friendly, would not allow the white man to be brought anywhere near them.

This struck us as rather remarkable, for we knew that the Badjok were

enthusiastic traders, who like nothing better than to purchase goods

imported from Europe and to sell ivory and rubber to the white man; we

came to the conclusion, therefore, that this particular party of Badjok

must be engaged in buying slaves from the Bakongo, for in the old days,

before the arrival of the European Government, these people were noted

slave traders, and this unexplored country between the Loange and the

Kasai would be one of the very few remaining places where they might be

able to carry on this trade unpunished. After a good deal of discussion,

the people of Bishwambura agreed to carry our loads on to Kanenenke, some

three miles to the south, having previously ascertained that the natives

of that village would be willing to allow us to visit them. Torday went

on to Kanenenke in advance, leaving me to despatch our baggage with the

local Bakongo. This stage of our journey passed off without any untoward

incident, but when I joined Torday in the evening I found that he had

had rather an amusing experience in the village on his arrival. Upon

approaching the stockade he had found two elderly men sitting smoking

their pipes beneath a shed; as soon as they set eyes upon him they had

jumped up with a squeal, and, carefully keeping the shed between him and

themselves, they had anxiously inquired whether he was a human being or

a ghost. Torday had assured them, in as much of the Bakongo language as

he had been able to learn during our stay in the country, that he was not

only human, but really very inoffensive, and that he had brought with

him a good supply of things which the Bakongo would like to have, and

which he was quite prepared to give them in exchange for food and for

their services as porters when we moved on. In the meantime, a number of

other natives had assembled to look at him, but it took some little time

to persuade them that he really belonged to this world, for I think that

the Bakongo had imagined that a “white” man ought to resemble in colour

the white earth, something like chalk, which exists in small quantities

in this district, so that Torday’s tanned visage by no means came up to

their expectations of a European. At last one man, more courageous than

the rest, had touched him, and, having satisfied himself that Torday was

nothing more than ordinary flesh and blood, had persuaded the others to

lay aside their fears, so that when I arrived Torday had settled down

and was making himself agreeable to the chief of the village. We stayed

some days in Kanenenke, and got on remarkably well with the people

there; we were able to take a great number of photographs, and, by dint

of giving a few pinches of salt as a reward to those who posed for us,

we had no difficulty in obtaining pictures, not only of native types,

but of the people performing their various daily occupations. We took

several photographs of ladies having their eyelashes pulled out, for

no Bakongo lady of fashion would think of appearing with any hair upon

her eyelids. The eyelashes are pulled out by another woman so quickly

and so neatly that the process does not so much as bring water to

their eyes. It was at first somewhat disquieting to observe that after

sundown there was scarcely a sober man to be found at Kanenenke, for the

Bakongo are extremely fond of palm wine, in connection with the drinking

of which there is a curious custom among them. Several times, when

entering Bakongo villages, we noticed, at some little distance from the

villages themselves, two or three logs placed as if to form seats by the

wayside, and we were considerably astonished to find that these marked

the meeting-places of clubs. In the evening the Bakongo men come out

to bring in the wine extracted from the Elais palm, and they carry it

in calabashes to these meeting-places, where groups of friends, to the

number of half-a-dozen or a dozen, sit down, smoke their pipes, and drink

while discussing the local gossip.

[Illustration: GANDU, SON OF THE CHIEF OF KANANEKE.]

[Illustration: REMOVING A LADY’S EYELASHES.]

The habits of the Bakongo at their clubs are certainly not so temperate

as they might be, but we soon found that as a rule they were, when drunk,

more agreeable and more anxious to please us than when sober, so that

although for the first few days we were rather uncertain as to what their

demeanour towards us might be when the liquor got into them, we soon came

to regard the existence of these clubs as rather a help than a hindrance

to our progress. At Kanenenke our men were often invited to partake of

refreshment by the natives, and on one or two occasions we ourselves

were offered a drink by some convivial spirit when we passed the clubs

on our way back from shooting guinea-fowls in the evening. Although

palm wine is generally drunk out of quaintly carved wooden cups, in the

manufacture of which the Bakongo are quite the equal of the Bushongo,

it is very often imbibed from leaves neatly twisted up so as to contain

the liquid, the same leaf never being used for two drinks. The natives

in most parts of the Kasai district are in the habit of thus drinking

water from leaves when they cross a stream upon the march. During our

stay at Kanenenke, although the fact that the little children displayed

no timidity in visiting our camp and playing with us clearly showed that

we were becoming even popular with the natives, our chances of reaching

the Kasai began to appear remarkably small. It seemed that nothing save

iron and knives would induce the Bakongo to carry for us, and our stock

of these commodities was almost at an end. We possessed a fair amount

of salt, which the natives would accept in payment for small services,

and also a quantity of European cotton material, but this latter proved

merely an encumbrance to us, for we learned that Goman Vula had issued

a decree announcing that any one of his subjects found wearing material

of European manufacture would be instantly put to death. We could hardly

expect, therefore, that the Bakongo would carry for us for a wage to be

paid in cloth.

In addition to this, the people of Kanenenke informed us that they and

the inhabitants of the neighbouring villages had had a difference of

opinion with Goman Vula, which, if it had not grown to an open revolt,

had at least put a stop to any intercourse between the natives of the

district in which we now were and the Bakongo who inhabited the immediate

neighbourhood of Goman Vula’s village. The people of Kanenenke plainly

told us that, for this reason, they could not themselves transport our

baggage to the village of the great chief. This story may very likely

have been a lie invented for the purpose of keeping us away from Goman

Vula, for the natives were as mysterious as ever when discussing him,

and we could not find any one who would say that he knew him personally;

but, whether true or false, it seemed highly improbable that we should

either be able to meet Goman Vula or to make our way towards the Kasai.

We were bitterly disappointed, for we had gone to considerable expense

in making our way as far as Kanenenke, and at Kanenenke itself we were

getting on with the natives better than we had any right to expect that

we should, so that Torday was collecting quite an amount of valuable

information concerning the manners and customs of the tribe. In addition

to this, we were particularly anxious to cross this unknown track, a

feat which had been attempted unsuccessfully so often before. We were

convinced that the whole matter was now merely a question of money. Had

we possessed unlimited iron and knives we could doubtless have bribed the

Bakongo to take us anywhere we liked, but such heavy material in large

quantities would have necessitated our bringing with us a very large

number of porters, for it would be quite impossible to trust the Bakongo

themselves to transport loads consisting of the objects which they covet

so much; and had we been followed by a large number of natives from

the Kwilu, the Bakongo of the river bank would certainly have been so

suspicious of us that they would never have ferried us over the Loange.

Had it been possible to employ some other means of transport, such as,

for instance, donkeys, I am convinced that we should have been able to

bring in sufficient iron and knives to bribe the natives into taking

us to Goman Vula’s village, and probably to succeed in establishing

friendly relations with the great chief himself. Although our chances

of being able to reach the Kasai certainly seemed very remote, we could

not bear to turn back and recross the Loange, so that when the people of

Kanenenke began to talk about carrying our loads on for one more stage,

we decided to risk finding ourselves at an end of our supply of currency,

and to proceed as far in an easterly direction as we possibly could. We

made great friends with the chief of Kanenenke, a fine, stalwart old

native, who was in the habit of smoking a pipe, the stem of which was

so long that he required a slave to light it for him, and with his son

Gandu, another fine specimen of a negro, with whom we used to take short

shooting excursions in search of guinea-fowl. During these excursions we

came across many of the hidden plantations of the Bakongo, for on the

march in their country one sees little or no land under cultivation,

the fields generally lying some distance from any main track, hidden in

patches of woodland. The chief and his son were very greatly impressed by

our clockwork elephant.

During our stay in the village Gandu’s wife presented him with a son,

whereupon the young warrior at once came round to see us, and, calling

Torday aside, asked him if he would allow our elephant to predict the

future of the child. This Torday agreed to do, and, having previously

ascertained by his researches among the people that Gandu’s son would be

heir to the chieftainship, and seeing that the baby was a healthy one,

he told the proud father that the elephant foresaw that the child would

grow up into a strong man and become the chief of a village. This was a

fairly safe prophecy, for if the child lived he would certainly become

chief, and there appeared to be no prospect of its dying, at any rate

for the next few days, after which we hoped we should be many miles away

from Kanenenke. At any rate the prediction thoroughly delighted Gandu,

and he offered himself to act as an envoy from us to the people of Kenge,

the next village to the eastwards, if we would send with him one of

our men, Mayuyu, with whom he had struck up a great friendship. Mayuyu

at once expressed his willingness to go, so he and Gandu started off

one morning to assure the people of Kenge of our peaceful intentions,

and to ask them if they had any objection to our visiting them. During

their absence we had little to do, for Gandu was our chief informant

upon all matters connected with his tribe in which we were interested,

so we spent a good deal of our time in playing with the children. While

thus employed Torday one day showed the little ones how to blow an egg.

This was regarded by all the assembled natives as a truly wonderful

performance, so we threaded a piece of cotton through the empty shell and

hung it up to a tree close to our tents, where it was evidently regarded

as a fetish, and accordingly avoided by all passing natives. In an empty

granary just beside the entrance to my tent a Bakongo fetish of a very

different kind was hanging; it was a human thigh-bone; but although this

was rather gruesome, and was no doubt believed to possess considerable

magical powers, I think that our clockwork elephant and our eggshell were

regarded as something far more uncanny than any charm which the natives

themselves possessed, so that we felt quite safe in leaving our goods

about in the shed, where we passed the greater part of our time, and

in going to rest at night without troubling to post sentries over our

belongings.

After a couple of days’ absence Gandu and Mayuyu returned and informed

us that the people of Kenge had expressed their willingness to receive

our visit, and, in fact, had appeared quite anxious to see us. Kenge,

Gandu told us, lay at no great distance from Goman Vula’s village, so

he thought that it was quite possible we might be able to persuade its

inhabitants to take us on to see the great chief. Knowing the state

of our finances as regards iron and knives, however, we ourselves were

very doubtful upon this point. Early in the morning, after the return of

our envoys, Torday proceeded to Kenge, all the inhabitants of Kanenenke

and of one or two neighbouring hamlets turning out to carry our loads,

but although every one appeared anxious to act as porters, we were

unable to secure sufficient people to remove all our baggage from the

village in one day. Accordingly I stayed behind with the remainder of

the baggage to await the return of our Bambala, whom Torday promised to

send back as soon as they were refreshed after their journey. The way

to Kenge occupied about seven hours, so that I had to spend two nights

at Kanenenke before our porters had had time to rest and to return for

me. They brought with them a note from Torday informing me that he had

been received in a friendly fashion by two chiefs who held equal sway at

Kenge, and that these worthies had given him a present of fowls. He said

that he had told the natives that our stock of iron was practically at

an end, but that this fact did not appear to prejudice them against us.

I was somewhat relieved to get this information, for the night before

I left Kanenenke the Bakongo, who had returned from carrying our loads

with Torday, had appeared much less friendly in their manner towards me;

and I gathered from what I could pick up from the remarks I heard made

at a mass meeting held after nightfall within the village that they were

dissatisfied with their pay, evidently expecting to be able to extort

from Torday quite twice the amount that had been agreed upon as their

wages.

Just as I was leaving the village, the chief came to me and formally

requested me to remove the eggshell which I had inadvertently left

hanging upon its tree. The people evidently imagined that this charm

could have some effect upon them even after our departure if left in

their village. I therefore carefully removed it and started upon my

journey. The way to Kenge lay, after passing through a narrow strip of

woodland close to Kanenenke, over great rolling, grassy downs, almost

devoid of trees, and it was only after covering about eighteen miles of a

winding road that we came upon any woodland, and then only a narrow strip

bordering a brook a mile or so from Kenge. At Kenge we were only about

twenty miles as the crow flies from the Loange River, and the country had

consisted almost entirely of undulating plains, although to the north of

Kenge very extensive woodlands could be seen, and, of course, near to the

Loange patches of forest are to be found in the numerous hollows, through

which flow little streams. On the whole the country here must be said to

consist of plains, and in no way resembles the impenetrable forest which

we had been told we should find between the Loange and the Kasai. Upon

reaching Kenge I found Torday installed under a shed about forty yards

from the stockade which surrounded the village. His tent was pitched a

few yards away, and mine was quickly erected close beside it. Between

the shed and the village the ground had been cleared of grass, and was

covered with cassava bushes about four or five feet in height. A few

yards away from our tents lay the rough grass of the plains. Torday was

talking to several natives, including the two chiefs, when I arrived,

and all these came forward to welcome me. We noticed, however, that they

looked in some surprise on the loads which our Bambala were carrying,

which consisted merely of a few odd and ends. A short time after I had

joined Torday and we were sitting down to a meal, one of the chiefs,

an evil-looking ruffian with a squint, came to speak to us, and it was

evident that his friendly attitude towards us had changed to one of

insolence. He and his people had previously told Torday that they would

not expect to be paid in iron for carrying us on to the next village, for

they had been assured that our stock of iron and knives was nearly at an

end, but now he came and informed us that his people would not carry our

loads until they had received a high wage in iron; nothing else would

satisfy them. Torday once more informed them that it was quite impossible

for us to accede to these demands, whereupon the chief remarked, “Very

well, you can go; if you have no iron, we do not want you here.” Torday

then told him that we asked nothing better than to go, and that if his

people would carry our loads for us at daybreak on the morrow, we should

be delighted to leave his village and continue our journey towards the

Kasai. The chief again assured us that his people would not carry without

iron; and when we remarked that we could not move until they carried for

us, he said, “You must go as best you can yourselves; we will have iron,

or we will have war.” With that he left us.

We learned later on that this, the elder of the two chiefs, rather

fancied himself as a wizard, and doubtless intended to show off his

magical powers before his people by frightening us out of his village.

After a time he returned and told us that as a declaration of war he

intended to steal the chickens which he had just presented to us. We

showed him where they lay, and he thereupon took them, our people, acting

under our order, making no effort to prevent him, for we did not wish

to force on hostilities by any act of violence on our part. For the

rest of the evening no one came near us, and it was noticeable that the

women and children kept within the stockade, while the warriors, who had

previously been walking about unarmed, most of them now carried their

bows and arrows when they passed our camp. Our position was by no means a

comfortable one. I have mentioned that the shed in which our belongings

lay and our tents were closely surrounded by cassava bushes, under cover

of which it would be very easy for a native to creep up unobserved and

shoot us as we sat in our chairs; obviously any attempt on our part to

clear the ground by cutting down their crops could only result in the

Bakongo immediately attacking us. Our camp was situated well within

arrow-range of the stockade, and although the shed beneath which we were

sitting would doubtless keep out any arrows shot from the village, which

at a distance of forty yards would already be beginning to drop, we and

our men would certainly be very much exposed at any time that we left

its shelter. Any attempt at removing our camp to the plains, a little

farther away from the village, would only have been mistaken for flight,

and would have induced the Bakongo to attack us immediately. The only

thing to do was to stay where we were, to avoid any act of aggression,

and to appear as unconcerned as possible. We summoned our Bambala porters

and now informed them for the first time that the two long cases which

we carried with us contained ten rifles; for up to this moment we had

kept our people in ignorance of the fact that we possessed any arms

except our own sporting guns. Upon seeing the rifles, our trusty Bambala

suggested that, instead of issuing these arms to them, we ourselves

should endeavour to shoot such of the Bakongo as carried most arrows

directly hostilities began, so that our people, covered by our firing,

might rush up and take the weapons of the slain, and so be provided with

arms in the use of which they were practised, instead of the rifles with

which they had never learned to shoot. This we decided to attempt as

soon as any hostile move was made by the enemy. Our Bambala porters then

proceeded to dress their hair with oil, and to smear their countenances

with Reckitt’s blue, and, thus beautified, waited calmly for the trouble

to begin. At this crisis, as always, our men behaved in a most exemplary

manner, never causing us a moment’s anxiety as to their loyalty, and

never complicating affairs by an aggressive act or word to the Bakongo.

That night we loaded all our guns before we put them by our bedsides,

and we placed in readiness two boxes of rockets usable in a 12-bore

shot-gun, which, although they were incapable of inflicting any damage,

we thought might possibly strike terror into the hearts of the Bakongo.

After we had turned in we heard a meeting being held within the village,

at which several speakers held forth at great length, but although we

could just make out that war was the subject of discussion, we could not

hear sufficiently well to gather any information as to what the natives

intended to do. We fully expected to be attacked that night, but, as a

matter of fact, the Bakongo never left their village until morning, and

then no one approached our camp. The women and children still kept out of

sight, and we noticed that all of the men carried arms, and many of them

were busily occupied in putting new tips or feathers upon their arrows,

in manufacturing new bows, or in paring down stout creepers with which

to make bow-strings. Our porters had purchased a good deal of food upon

arriving at Kenge when the natives were friendly, so we told them on no

account to accept any eatables from the Bagongo should they offer any

for sale, for we feared that some attempt might be made to poison them;

for ourselves we had plenty of European stores, so that for the time

being we had no need to bother about our food supply. But the outlook was

not a particularly bright one, for it was evident that the Bakongo, if

they did not attack us, would certainly attempt to starve us out, and we

should therefore be eventually compelled to retreat towards the Loange,

in which case it was practically certain that we should find that the

people of Kenge had caused the inhabitants of the villages through which

we had passed previously to rise against us upon our return journey, and

we should therefore be compelled to fight our way to the Loange with

only twenty-four men, many of whom would be occupied in transporting the

objects which we had already bought for the Museum; for we were firmly

determined that, even if we had to abandon the rest of our baggage, we

would do our best to bring away the things which we had procured at a

cost of so much trouble and expense. Even if we could succeed in reaching

the Loange River, we were sure that the natives would have concealed all

the canoes, so that our plight by the riverside would hardly be better

than it was at Kenge. During the day, possibly as a result of advice

given by some speaker at the over-night assembly in the village, the

Bakongo proceeded to _clear away the cassava bushes_ around our camp. A

worse piece of strategy could hardly be imagined, for whereas the bushes

had offered perfect cover for any one who wished to creep up and shoot

at us as we sat at meals or writing in our shed, now that they had been

removed we had an open space around us, in which we should be able to do

some damage with our sporting rifles. Their removal appeared to us to

render our danger far less imminent. Another night passed and we were not

molested. Upon the following morning Torday considered that the time had

arrived for putting our clockwork elephant to the test, and to exhibit

some little black dolls which we had received from London during our last

stay at Dima.

He accordingly tied one of the dolls in a prominent position upon the

ridge pole of his tent, and we soon observed that its presence had been

noticed by the Bakongo. As a rule, when a native is really impressed by

anything that he thinks may be of a supernatural character, he disguises

his feelings, and does not exhibit the great curiosity with which he

usually views any strange thing the white man may show him, and we saw

that the Bakongo were extremely shy of our little “medicine,” as we

called our doll, for no crowd collected round it, but nearly every one

in the place must have had a look at it from a distance, each one soon

passing on silently and with a puzzled expression on his face.

[Illustration: BAKONGO OF KENGE LOOKING AT OUR DOLL.]

[Illustration: THE CLOCKWORK ELEPHANT.]

Later on we saw the second chief of the village loitering near our camp.

This man had always appeared to us to be less inclined for war than

his colleague, the old wizard, so Torday called out to him to come and

talk matters over with us. After a little hesitation he came. Torday

explained to him that although we did not want war, we were by no means

afraid of it, and showed the chief our guns. We also related a few

shooting stories, not all of them, perhaps, strictly true, in which we

dwelt upon the enormous number of buffalo, &c., that daily fell to our

rifles when we took the trouble to go out shooting; and Torday gave the

man to understand that the presence of a great fetish was responsible

for our success in the use of our guns. The chief could not suppress

his curiosity as to the nature of this “fetish,” and Torday, after

pretending that he scarcely dared to worry it by introducing strangers,

finally agreed to show it to him. He entered his tent, and wound up the

clockwork elephant, while I remained outside with the chief. At a word

from Torday I drew back the flap and gently pushed the native in. The

elephant began to move. One glance at the little toy walking along the

top of a gun-case, waving its trunk in the semi-darkness of the tent, was

sufficient for the chief; with a gasp of fear he sprang backward through

the tent door and attempted to bolt. We insisted upon his having another

look, but it was a very brief one, and crying, “I will bring you back

those chickens we have stolen,” the old man rushed off to the village

as hard as his legs would carry him. A stir was immediately noticeable

among the Bakongo, and after some delay a party of them came over to us,

bringing with them the stolen fowls. Torday then gave a discourse upon

the might of our “elephant,” but declined to disturb it again to satisfy

their curiosity; he informed the people, however, that it never slept, so

that any attempt to surprise us could only result in rousing it to anger,

with horrible consequences to the offenders. He then proceeded to set

fire to a little whisky, which, in the darkness, the natives of course

mistook for water, and remarked that the local rivers would blaze up

finely if once we took it into our heads to burn them.

The effect of our game of bluff upon the people of Kenge was greater

than we could ever have hoped it would be. The attitude of the Bakongo

towards us immediately changed. I do not mean to say that their hostility

changed to friendliness, but their desire to attack us, or to starve us

out, gave way to a wish to get rid of us as soon as possible without

arousing the anger of our “fetish.” Upon the day following the exhibition

of our elephant we found the people quite ready to discuss with us the

possibility of our moving on to another village, and the once truculent

chief now informed us that his people would be perfectly willing to

carry our loads on to the village of Makasu, some eight miles as the

crow flies to the north-east, but, bearing in mind the fact that news

travels quickly in Africa, we were anxious to ascertain whether or not

the inhabitants of this latter place would be willing to receive us,

after having heard, as doubtless they already had, of the magical powers

which we were believed to possess. The chief of Kenge offered to send one

of his men as an envoy to them, and Mayuyu, who had performed the same

office for us before our journey from Kanenenke, suggested that he should

accompany him. These two accordingly set out for Makasu, and returned

in the evening with the information that the people there, who we now

learned for the first time were Bashilele, were quite willing to receive

our visit.

We stayed on two or three more days at Kenge, however, employing our time

in taking photographs, for the natives were much too frightened of our

elephant to object to our wandering freely about, and using our cameras

as much as we liked. We learned now that the reason for the hostility of

the Bakongo was that, although they knew that Torday had brought little

or no iron with him, they had always hoped that upon my arrival a further

supply of that commodity would appear, and it was their disappointment,

when they found that I had nothing with me that they wanted, which caused

their friendly attitude to change to one of insolent aggression. During

the period of strained relationship with the natives which I have just

described, Torday and I were both of us confident that, in the event

of hostilities, we should be able to retrace our steps to the Loange,

even if considerably harassed on the way; but when I look back upon the

incident, I do not think that, had the Bakongo decided to attack us, and

to raise the western villages against us, we should any of us have had

the slightest chance of reaching the river alive. I think, therefore,

that it is not too much to claim for the clockwork toy that it prevented

a massacre. It is possible that some of my readers may have imagined

that we contemplated swindling the natives when I stated that we were

prepared to sell one of our elephants for some very valuable curio,

but I think the events at Kenge should prove that the toy possessed a

very real value for the native, and my readers can easily imagine how

much the possession of it would increase the prestige of any chief to

whom we sold one. By our use of the elephant we were certainly taking

advantage of the negro’s ignorance and superstition, but as this course

assuredly prevented bloodshed, I think that we were fully justified in

adopting it. Our envoys having been welcomed at Makasu, we despatched

all but three or four of our Bambala porters in the very early hours of

one morning to carry some of our loads on to that village, ordering them

to return as soon as possible, leaving two or three of their number on

guard over the baggage. From what Mayuyu had told us of the distance

to Makasu, we concluded that our men should have returned to Kenge by

about 11 o’clock in the morning, but it was not until sundown that they

turned up. During these long hours of waiting we endured an agony of

suspense. I have already mentioned that we had been informed of the

presence in the neighbourhood of a party of Badjok traders, and that we

had considered it highly probable that these people were engaged in the

purchase of slaves. Knowing them to be well armed and warlike, we began

to fear that our porters had encountered them and had been captured, to

be hurried off southwards, and sold in the neighbourhood of the Angola

frontier. Such a possibility filled us with horror, for we had a very

real affection for our gallant followers from the Kwilu, and we realised

that, had they been taken prisoners, we should be absolutely powerless to

rescue them, although we were fully determined to start off in pursuit of

the Badjok should we learn that our men had been taken. Such a pursuit

should have been futile, for we could not expect any assistance from

the Bakongo, and the Badjok would certainly march faster than we could

follow. Our feelings, however, were so strong upon the subject that

I have no doubt we should have attempted it. Our relief when our men

turned up safe and sound knew no bounds. It appears that, having started

in the darkness of the early morning under the guidance of Mayuyu,

who had only once traversed the road to Makasu, the Bambala had lost

their way in some woodland, and had taken many hours to reach Makasu,

proceeding by a very circuitous route. Upon their arrival, however,

the Bashilele had received them kindly, and had offered them food and

water, expressing their desire to see us in their village as soon as we

could come along. Next day, therefore, we turned our backs on Kenge,

and proceeded into the country of the Bashilele. I went on in advance,

while Torday remained at Kenge until all the loads had been despatched.

Shortly after leaving the village I came upon quite a considerable river,

known to the natives as the Lumbunji, which is here about sixty yards

in width, with a very strong stream. From what we could gather from the

natives, this river must rise somewhere near to, or just to the south of,

the Angola boundary, and it flows parallel to the Loange, entering the

Kasai a little to the eastward of that river. For a few miles from its

confluence with the Kasai it is navigable for canoes, but at Kenge the

stream is too strong and the river much too littered up with fallen trees

to render the use of boats possible. A rough bridge of logs had existed

across it on the way from Kenge to Makasu, but this had recently been

destroyed by the Bakongo, evidently with the intention of cutting off our

retreat to the eastwards, so that I had to waste some time on the march

while our Bambala felled saplings and reconstructed the bridge.

Upon arriving at Makasu I found all the inhabitants squatting in the shed

beneath the ramparts of the village awaiting my arrival. Not one man was

armed, and I, of course, carefully avoided arousing any suspicion by

appearing in the village with a rifle in my hands or with a gun-bearer

close beside me. The chief greeted me, and took me to a shed outside

the walls where the loads we had despatched the day before had been

deposited. Here I awaited the arrival of the Bakongo, who were bringing

on our belongings from Kenge. They had agreed to accept wages in salt

for this service, but I fully anticipated that some trouble might arise

over their payment. To my astonishment, however, they accepted the amount

of salt agreed upon without a murmur, and by dint of throwing in a few

additional handfuls of that useful commodity to the portions of one or

two women who had volunteered to carry loads, and by giving a little

here and there as presents to children who accompanied their mothers, I

managed to send the majority of the Bakongo back to their homes smiling

and contented. One of our boxes had been broken open on the way. That

box contained the clockwork elephant! The two Bakongo who were carrying

it had turned over some cloth which they found upon opening the lid, in

the hope that there might be some iron or knives concealed beneath it,

and what their feelings were when they discovered that they had disturbed

the dreaded elephant I cannot imagine. At any rate they deposited it at

Makasu and started off for home at a run, without waiting a moment to

receive the payment which I should have been perfectly willing to give

them. Torday came on just before sundown, accompanied by the Bambala,

who had that day accomplished the journey from Kenge twice. An incident

occurred during this march which serves to show the lack of forethought

of the negro. Realising that our men had a hard day’s work before them,

Torday had in the morning issued orders that they should partake of a

hearty meal before starting upon their first journey, and that they

should carry a little food with them on the way. When he arrived in

Makasu all the Bambala excepting one (Moamba, the youth who had joined us

at Luano), accompanied him, and, imagining that he had stopped to wash

himself at some stream, the lad’s absence at first caused us no anxiety,

but when three or four hours later he had not put in an appearance, we

feared that he must have been molested by the Bakongo, or that some

accident might have happened to him. Several of his companions at once

volunteered to return along the road in search of him, and, taking one of

our camp lanterns, they set out. After some time they returned, bringing

with them Moamba, who was in a very exhausted condition. We gave him a

good dose of whisky and water, which we had some difficulty in making

him drink, and some food, and then inquired what had happened to him.

“Hunger seized me,” replied the boy, “so I lay down in the forest.” When

asked what he thought was going to happen to him there, he said that he

did not know. He then informed us that he had forgotten to eat anything

before starting out in the morning, despite our orders that the men were

to partake of a hearty breakfast, and apparently had thrown away the food

he had brought with him for the journey. When he began to feel weak from

the effects of hunger he had ceased to care in the least what happened

to him. A day or two’s rest at Makasu, however, soon set him on his feet

again, and he was quite strong by the time we were ready to move on to

the next village.