January 23, 1907.
HAVING some of the more marked characteristics of the Bantu in mind,
let us consider the conditions and circumstances of the white men in the
Congo. There are, of course, but three classes—state officials,
traders, and missionaries. Practically, the state officials and the
traders are in the same condition; the missionary is so differently
circumstanced that he must be considered independently.
Few persons can imagine the trying climate and the serious diseases of
the Congo region. It is claimed that Nigeria is worse. It may be, but,
if so, I should wish to keep away from Nigeria. Fever, of course,
abounds in all the Lower Congo districts. If one escapes it for a time
it is so much the worse for him when finally he succumbs to the
infliction. It is only malaria, but it is malaria of the most insidious
and weakening sort. A man is up and working in the early morning; at
noonday he takes to his bed with fever; at night or next morning he may
again be at his daily work.
It seems a trifling thing—a disease which often lasts less than a day.
But the man is left weak and nerveless. The next attack continues the
weakening process. Finally, with blood impoverished and strength
exhausted, he dies. Of course, the remedy is quinine. Careful people
going into the Congo begin to take their daily dose of this specific at
the beginning of their journey, so that they may be fortified against
attack before arrival. For the most part the English missionaries take
two, three, five, or six grains daily throughout the period of their
stay. Some foreigners prefer ten grain doses on the 1st, 11th, and 21st
of every month. Few really refuse to take it, and such usually find an
early grave.
The disadvantage of this constant dosing with quinine is the danger of
the dreaded hæmaturic fever. This dread disease rarely attacks a person
until he has been a year in the Congo. It is commonly attributed to the
system being loaded up with quinine. The instant that its symptoms
develop, the order to cease taking quinine is promptly issued. Among the
European population of the Congo, hæmaturic fever is regularly expected
to have a fatal issue. It is more than probable that the use of wines,
beers, and liquors predisposes the system to a fatal result. Plenty of
missionaries die of hæmaturic fever also, but the appearance of the
disease among them by no means produces the panic which it does among
continentals. Perhaps one in five or six cases dies, two of the
remainder flee to Europe, the other three recover. But the disease is no
trifling matter, and must be seriously taken.
Few persons realize the frightful effect of the tropical sun in Central
Africa. When Jameson came down the river from the ill-fated Yambuya
camp, natives on the shore sent a flight of arrows against his paddlers,
not knowing that a white man was present with them in the canoe. To show
them that such was the case and prevent further attack Jameson stood in
his canoe and waved his hat at the assailants. It is unlikely that he
had it from his head more than a minute or two, but in that time he was
stricken with the fever which a few days later caused his death.
Glave, after spending six years in Africa at the state post of Lukolela,
returned in safety to his native land. After some years he revisited the
scene of his earlier labors, entering the continent on the east coast
and passing in safety to Matadi. While waiting for a steamer he was
making a short journey on the river in a canoe. His head was exposed for
a mere instant to the sun, and Glave was shortly a dead man.
One who has been on three different occasions in the Congo once remarked
to me that he could see no reason for the strange and frightful modes of
suicide adopted by Europeans who wished to end their lives. All that
would be necessary is to seat oneself upon a chair or stool in the open
sunshine for a brief period. Yet the Bantu goes out every day with no
hat upon his head, and with no apparent bad results. And when he has the
fever one of his quickest means of restoration is to seat himself in the
open sunshine. Of course, the Bantu does not have the fever as
frequently or as severely as the white man.
The Bantu suffers much, however, from sleeping-sickness. For a long time
it was believed that this strange disease was peculiar to the dark
populations of Africa. The disease formerly was local, and while
frightful in its ravages, was not a serious matter. To-day, however, it
is extending up and down the whole length of the main river and
throughout the area drained by many of its main tributaries.
In its approach it is slow and insidious. The saddest cases are those
where the victim attacked was notably intelligent and quick. The subject
becomes at first a little moody, and from time to time has outbursts of
petulance and anger out of proportion to the exciting cause. These
outbursts become more and more common, and assume the character of true
mania, during which the person may attack those around him, even though
they are his best and dearest friends. It is frequently necessary to tie
him, in order to prevent injury to others. Presently the person is
affected with stupor, shows a tendency to sleep, even at his work; this
increases until at last he is practically sleeping, or in a comatose
condition, all the time. In this latter stage of the disease he loses
flesh with great rapidity, and presently is naught but skin and bones.
At last death takes him, after he has been useless to himself and others
for a long time.
The sleeping-sickness is not confined to the Congo Free State, and at
the present time its ravages are felt severely in the British district
of Uganda. The disease has been investigated by learned commissions, but
no satisfactory treatment, at least for an advanced stage of the
trouble, has been yet discovered.
There is a tendency among physicians to connect the transmission of the
sleeping-sickness with, the tsetse fly. It is, “of course,” a germ
disease—such being at the present all the fashion. A medical friend in
New York tells me that the Japanese have made recent important
investigations of the sickness, and that their line of treatment gives
greater promise of success than any other. Latterly the disease has
attacked white people, and a number of missionaries have died from it or
been furloughed home for treatment.
Whole districts of Bantu have been depopulated. We were shown the site
of a Catholic mission until lately highly prosperous; the place has been
deserted, all the natives under the influence of the mission having died
of the sleeping-sickness.
Malaria, hæmaturia, sun fevers, and sleeping-sickness are the most
fearful scourges which the white settler in the Congo faces.
We could, of course, extend the list of strange and dreadful diseases,
but have said enough to show that every white man who goes into the
Congo country does so at a serious risk. No one is quite immune, and the
number who even seem to be so is small. No one is ever quite well, and
every one is chronically in a state of physical disorganization.
The climate and the actual diseases are bad enough. They perhaps would
lose a portion of their terror if the food supply were adequate,
wholesome, and nutritious. Even the missionaries use little native food.
The state officer and trader use practically none. The chopbox is an
institution of the country. Its simplest expression is found at the
trading-post of some company where but a single agent is in residence.
Once in three months the steamer of his company brings him his chopbox
outfit. There are usually two long wooden boxes, one of which contains a
great variety of tinned meats, fish, vegetables, and fruit. I never had
the least idea until my African experience how many things were put in
tins. The second box contains flour, oil, vinegar, salt, and spices. The
quantity is held to be sufficient for the three months. In addition to
the actual food supply, there is a quota of wine in demijohns and of gin
in square bottles.
No one who has not had the experience can imagine the frightful satiety
which comes upon one who has fed for weeks from chopboxes.
It is true that “the boy” does his best to serve a palatable dinner. It
is true that sometimes a piece of elephant or hippopotamus, a guinea
fowl or grouse, some buffalo or antelope, or fresh fish or fowls are
brought in by the natives as gifts or trade. But even with this help the
poor company agent has the same food, meal after meal, day after day.
Frequently the tinned stuff is old and really unfit for eating; but the
quota is none too large for his three months’ period. Sometimes the
flour or macaroni is moldy, having been soaked through with water in the
hold of a leaky steamer. The food is not attractive nor substantial. The
state officer, the company agent, in Central Africa, is underfed and
badly nourished.
Not only does the white man in the Congo suffer physical
disorganization; he also suffers mental disintegration. The memory of
white men in the Congo weakens. This is a matter of universal
observation, and my attention has been called to it repeatedly. A
disinclination to any kind of intellectual activity takes possession of
one, and only by the exercise of strong will-power can he accomplish his
daily tasks and plan for the work of the future. There is a total lack
of stimulus.
When to the weakening effects of fever and other illness, and to the
depression caused by innutritious food, we add the influence of constant
dread of coming sickness and of native outbreaks, it is no wonder that
the white man of the Congo is a nervous and mental wreck. At home,
accustomed to wines and spirits at his meals, he finds it difficult to
discontinue their use. Beer ought to be completely avoided in the Congo;
there is no question of its injurious effect upon the liver. Wine may be
taken in the evening, and a very little spirits in the night after
dinner, without noticeable bad results. But many of these lonely men pay
no attention to wise rules of drinking, and through constant dissipation
lay themselves open to disease and death. Nor are they always satisfied
with intoxicating drinks. The use of opium in different forms is common.
Many a time have company agents or state officials come to me and asked
for some remedy from my medicine chest, for sudden and distressing
pains. In every case it has been a preparation of opium which they have
taken.