January 21, 1907.
LIFE is easy in the tropics. Wants are few. A house to live in can be
built in a few hours. Food can be gathered or produced with little
labor. Dress is needless. Where life is easy there is little impulse to
labor.
The chief incentive to the Bantu to work is to secure the wherewithal to
buy a wife. The boy, who, through a careless, happy childhood, has done
naught but play, begins to think of settling down. But to have a wife he
must have money or its equivalent. So he goes to work. It may require a
year or more before he has the pieces of cloth which are necessary for
the purchase of his desired loved one. The same stimulus which impelled
him to labor for one wife may prod him to efforts for others. But with
the establishment of a home, and the purchase of two or three wives to
care for him and produce him wealth, his work is done. From fourteen
years to twenty-five is his working period. Before that time a child,
after that time he is a man of means. What wealth comes later comes
through the women and their labor, and through trade.
We have already stated that the Bantu is notably acquisitive. Wealth,
apart from women and slaves, is counted mostly in cloth. One of the
chief aims in life is to accumulate cloth, not for use as clothing, but
as evidence of wealth and for the final display when the man dies and is
buried. Among the Lower Congo tribes the dead body is wrapped in piece
after piece of cloth, until the body disappears in a mass of wrappings
made of scores of pieces, each piece consisting of eight or sixteen
yards, as the case may be. Young men have cloth, and it is most
interesting to look through the boxes of the “boys.” At Basoko we were
robbed, and the authorities instituted a search. I was asked to inspect
the boxes of all the workmen on the place. Without warning, every man
and boy had to open his trunk, chest, tin box, or other store. I saw
young fellows of no more than sixteen or seventeen years who had a dozen
pieces of good cloth carefully folded away, watches, jewelry, ornaments,
knives, dishes—every kind of white man’s tradestuff that could be
imagined. When they are thirty those “boys” will be rich men, with
women, slaves, and piles of stuff.
The government of the Free State has issued coins for native use. There
are large coppers of the value of one, two, five, and ten centimes.
There are silver coins of half-franc, franc, two franc, and five franc
value. But these coins have no circulation beyond Leopoldville. In the
Kasai district and the Upper Congo every commercial transaction is done
by barter.
Certain things are so constantly in use as to have fixed values. For
articles of trifling value nothing is so good as salt. A standard which
varies from place to place is the brass rod, or mitaku. This is simply a
piece of brass wire of certain length. The mitaku in the Lower Congo are
short, those in the Upper Congo much longer. Beads have ever been used
in trade, but the wise traveler avoids them, as their value has
dwindled, and the taste not only varies from place to place, but from
time to time. The bead which one traveler found useful in a given
district may have lost its attractiveness before the next traveler,
loaded with a large supply, comes that way.
At Ndombe the brass rod has no vogue. There the cowries (sea shells) are
the standard in small transactions. Cowries were once used in many parts
of Africa, but in most places have ceased to have value. Ndombe,
however, arrogates to himself and family the sole right of wearing brass
arm and leg rings. Hence mitaku are not used, and the old-fashioned
cowry remains. But the chief tradestuff, of course, is cloth. With it
you may buy chickens or goats, pigs or wives. In the Upper Kasai a piece
of cloth means eight yards—“four fathoms.” In the Upper Congo a piece
of cloth is sixteen yards, or eight fathoms. Formerly at Ndombe eight or
ten chickens were given for a piece of cloth, value five francs, or one
dollar in our currency. To-day one must pay a fathom for each fowl.
The attempt to introduce the use of corn among the natives was
unsatisfactory alike to the people and the trader. It has, however,
taken hold strongly in the Lower Congo, and in time the use of true
money must push its way up the river. Curious is the contempt of all for
coppers. Ten centimes in Belgium would give delight to many a boy of
twelve or fifteen years. The Congo native frequently throws it away or
returns it to the person who gave it to him. Nothing less than a
half-franc piece—ten cents—is valued.
I have seen this illustrated many, many times, the first time in my own
case. We were visiting a miserable fishing village of poor Bakongo. As I
entered the village a naked child, no more than two or three years old,
met me. I smiled at him and he at me. I extended my hand, which he
clasped and accompanied me for half an hour as I wandered from house to
house, never once relaxing his hold upon my fingers. It caused great
amusement to the adult portion of the village, as apparently the little
one rarely made such friendships. When I was about to leave I took a ten
centime piece from my pocket and gave it to him. Such a look of disgust
as came over his face would not be expected in any one short of adult
years. It was the last time that I gave a copper to a native.
Unquestionably one of the most striking characteristics of the Congo
people is loquacity. Their tongues hang loosely, and wag incessantly.
Anything will do to talk about. Start one and he will talk until you
stop him. Quarrels, troubles, friendships, joys, plans, and
achievements, all are retailed at any hour of the day or night. When
excited, several will talk together with great vivacity, though it is
plain that no one knows what any other is saying.
One of the chief occupations of the man is the palaver. The Portuguese
term applies to any serious consultation on any subject, pleasant or
otherwise. A palaver may be confined to chiefs or it may include
practically all the men of one or more villages. In many towns there is
a place for gathering for palavers under a tree known as the palaver
tree. Those who participate in a palaver bring their chairs or stools or
a roll of skin, which they place upon the ground to sit upon. At the
beginning there is more or less formality, and each one presents his
view decently and in order; sometimes, however, hubbub ensues,
disturbance arises, and the palaver breaks up in disorder. In these
palavers frequently speeches of great length and finished oratory are
delivered. Not only are the emotions played upon by the speaker, but
keen argument is employed, and the appeal is made to the intelligence.
All matters of consequence—tribal, inter-tribal, and dealings with the
white man—are settled in palavers. The white man who knows the natives
is wise to conform to native customs. If he has some difficulty to
settle, some favor to ask, some business to arrange, he will do well to
have a formal palaver called in which he himself participates.
On the occasion of my second visit to Ndombe I found the town in great
excitement. Going to the chief’s headquarters, we found a great palaver
in progress. Our coming was looked upon as a favorable omen, and with
much formality chairs were brought and placed for us in the midst of the
gathering. The remarks were translated to me as they were made.
Ndombe’s town is really an aggregation of villages. Not one but four
different tribes are represented in the population. The central town,
walled and of Bakuba style, was Ndombe’s own. Three or four Bakete towns
were clustered near it. In another direction were several Baluba towns,
and close by them small villages of Batua. These four populations,
though living by themselves, were all subject to Ndombe, and the group
of villages taken together made a town of some pretension.
The day before our visit, there had been a battle with the Bakete in
which several men had been wounded, though none were killed. The trouble
was taxes. The state demanded increased payments. The proud Bakuba
decided that the Bakete should pay the new tax, and so informed them.
Against this there had been a feeling of rebellion, and the Bakete
refused to pay the tax. Hence the battle. All were greatly excited. The
speeches were full of fire. The men—Bakuba—challenged each other to
show mighty deeds of valor; they belittled and derided the unfortunate
Bakete; they drew unpleasant contrasts between themselves and their
vassals.
Many of the speeches were fine efforts, and the words were emphasized by
the most graceful and vigorous gesticulation. Finally an old woman
crowded in from one side where she had been listening to the speeches.
In impassioned language she described the heavy labors which the women
of the tribe already endured. They could stand no more. If the Bakuba
were men let them prove it now or forever after remain silent. Force the
Bakete to work. Put no more heavy tasks upon your mothers, wives, and
sisters. The old woman’s speech stirred the audience, and the meeting
broke up, the men hurrying to prepare themselves for a new battle.
The market was among the most important institutions of the Congo
native. It retains importance to the present day. In the Lower Congo a
week consisted of four days, and market was held at each market-place
once a week. The markets were named from the day of the week on which
they were held. Thus, a Nsona market was a market held on the day of
that name.
To these markets people came in numbers from all the country round, and
it was no uncommon thing to see thousands thus gathered. There were
special places for certain products. Thus, women who brought pottery for
sale occupied a set place; those who brought bananas would be grouped
together in their section; sellers of camwood, sweet potatoes, kwanga
(native cassava bread), palm wine, oil, salt, fowls, pigs, goats—all
occupied places well known to the frequenters of the market. In the
olden times, of course, there was a section devoted to the sale of
slaves.
Such a market presented a scene of active life and movement. Yet order
was preserved. No crime was considered more serious than the disturbance
of a market. Such an act deserved severest punishment, and those in
whose hands the maintenance of order lay never hesitated to kill the
offender at once, and to make a public display of his punishment as a
warning to all.
There is no question that the Congo native is cruel, and this cruelty
shows itself in many ways. The killing of slaves was extremely common.
It is true that it was never carried to the extreme in Congoland that it
reached in some true negro kingdoms, as Dahomey and Benin. It was,
however, customary to kill slaves on the occasion of the death of a man
of any consequence. The body of one of the slaves thus killed was placed
first in the grave to serve as a pillow for the dead man. It was a
common practice to preserve the skulls of victims sacrificed on such
occasions as memorials.
Not only were slaves sacrificed to grace the funeral ceremony of chiefs,
but often one or more were killed upon occasions of festivity and joy.
King Ndombe once presented me a skull. It was that of a Batua slave who
had been killed upon the occasion of the chief’s coming into power. In
this case, apparently, judging by the condition of the skull, the victim
had been killed by simply knocking in his head.
Until lately all through the Congo public executions were of a more
formal character than this. At Lake Mantumba we were shown the exact
mode of procedure. A sort of stool or seat was set upon the ground and
sticks were tightly driven in around it, in such a way as to limit the
motions of the victim after he was seated; in fact, to almost prevent
all movement. A sapling was then thrust in the ground. A sort of cage or
framework made of pliant branches was fixed about the head of the
victim. The sapling was then bent over in an arch and firmly fastened to
the cage, thus holding the head firmly and stretching the neck tense and
hard. The hands were tied together, as were the feet. When all was ready
the executioner with his great knife at a single blow struck off the
head.
Enemies killed in battle were often mutilated, and fingers, nails,
bones, or the skulls were treasured as trophies. When the white men
first visited the villages of the Upper Congo there was scarce a house
without its ghastly trophy, and the houses of great chiefs displayed
baskets filled with skulls.
It is doubtful whether the Congo native has as keen a sense of physical
suffering as ourselves. In almost every tribe men and sometimes women,
are marked with tribal marks upon the face or body; thus, among the
Bangala each member of the tribe bears a projection like a cock’s comb
running vertically across the forehead from the nose root to the hair
line. This excrescence is frequently three-quarters of an inch in
breadth and of the same elevation. Its development begins in childhood,
when a series of short but deep horizontal lines are cut in the child’s
forehead; these are irritated to produce swelling; later on they are cut
again, and again, and again, until the full development is produced. We
should certainly find such an operation painful in the extreme. I have
seen women whose entire bodies were masses of raised patterns, produced
by cutting and irritating.
When being operated upon the subject usually squats or lies in front of
the operator, who sits cross-legged on the ground. The head or other
portion of the body which is being cut rests upon the lap or knees of
the cutter. No particular pain is shown by the subject, though the cuts
are often deep and blood flows copiously. A few minutes after the
operation, smeared with fresh oil on the wounds, the scarred person
walks about as if nothing had happened.
The first subject that I saw treated for rheumatism was a young woman.
She was standing before her house door, while the old woman who was
treating her was squatted on the ground before her. In her hand the old
woman had a sharp, native razor, and with it she cut lines several
inches long and to good depth in the fleshy part of the leg of her
standing patient. Not once nor twice, but a dozen times the old woman
cut, and rubbed in medicine in the open wounds. The patient gave but
little signs of pain. Once or twice she winced as the knife went a
little deeper than usual; she held a long staff in her hand, and in the
most serious moments of the cutting she clutched it a little the
tighter. But there were no groans, no cries, nor tears. I have never
seen a white person who could have stood the operation with so little
evidence of suffering.
Part of the time that we were in Ndombe’s district we had charge of an
establishment employing 140 natives, more or less. Among these natives
was one Casati. I think he was a Zappo Zap. Originally a man of
quickness and intelligence, he had become a complete physical wreck
through drink and other forms of dissipation. He boarded with a girl
named Tumba. One afternoon they presented themselves before me with a
palaver. It was some question in regard to payment and service. Like
most Bantu difficulties, its beginning seemed to extend backwards to the
world’s creation.
I knew Tumba to be a worthy and industrious girl; Casati was a miserable
and worthless wretch. I therefore refused to decide the difficulty,
stating that the parties interested must wait until the return of the
true owner of the establishment, who would decide their question. This
was not at all to the satisfaction of Casati, who, merely to show his
dissatisfaction, took a sharp knife and cut three big gashes in his own
shoulder. It seems plain to me, from this apparent lack of pain under
scarring, medical treatment, and self-infliction, that there is a
notable difference between the Bantu and ourselves.
[Illustration: BAKUMU AT EASE: STEAMER CHAIRS AND PIPES FOR THREE]