Mengo, Uganda
Judging from the view obtained from this, the native capital of Uganda,
Mengo, the country seems composed of hills. On one of these stands the
cathedral and missionaries’ houses, and the splendid hospital, then just
ready to be opened (but since burnt down), and holding fifty to sixty
beds. The Roman Catholic Mission commands another hill, while on the
highest is the King’s palace. The head man of the district builds at
the top of each hill, and his dependents live round, their site being
determined by their social position. The whole district is densely
populated, but this is difficult at first to see, as the huts harmonize
with the vegetation around, or are hidden by the large banana plantations
that surround each dwelling. What strikes a new arrival are the very
wide, well-made roads that have been cut in various directions, quite a
novel feature for Africa.
Living out here is necessarily very simple. The English houses then
resembled bungalows constructed of poles and light, long reeds sewn
together by means of a black fibre: two layers formed the walls, with
dried leaves stuffed between, the roof being thatched with grass. The
floors were beaten earth, with skins or grass mats thrown down in
place of carpets. There were only outside doors, pieces of terra cotta
coloured bark cloth being hung as curtains between the inside doorways.
The apertures made in the walls for windows were closed in at night
by shutters of sewn reeds. The rooms looked distinctly rural, with
bookshelves, wardrobes, and cabinets made with packing cases of uniform
size stacked one upon another. A few native curios and chairs placed
about were rather more useful than ornamental.
[Illustration: A GROUP OF BAGANDA.
_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]
Each missionary’s house was fitted up with a spare room, but visitors
were expected to bring their own furniture and attendants, even though it
might be but a Saturday till Monday visit. If you were not a bonâ-fide
fresh arrival you had to bring your cow as well. The European’s staff of
domestics consists generally of small boys varying from eight to thirteen
years of age. These cook, wait, clean up, wash, in fact will do anything
you want them to do and a great deal more besides. As we passed the
little cook shed one evening the chef was rubbing up the roast chicken
with his grimy little hands to give the final touch before sending it to
table. The ladies employ female labour, and the girls range from three
to fifteen years of age, after which they marry. One small thing of five
years was “parlourmaid” to their household at the time of our arrival.
At afternoon tea she strolled into the room with the teapot balanced on
her head; in the same exalted position were the vegetables brought in at
dinner served up in a large plaited basket shaped like a Japanese hat,
with leaves placed under the unsweetened cooked bananas or potatoes.
The kitchen, like the servants’ quarters, is built apart from the
houses. There are no ranges or stoves. The cooking-pot, saucepan,
kettle, or frying-pan sits on three bricks or large stones between which
the firewood is rammed. The cooking-pots make successful ovens for
bread-making if a tray of fire is placed on the top.
The day after our arrival being Sunday we had an early opportunity
of witnessing a little of what Christianity has done for Uganda. The
unreached tribes we had passed through in their nakedness and savagery,
propitiating demons, and offering human sacrifices, are what these
people were before the Gospel reached them. Now, as the huge church
drum, echoing from hill to hill, called to morning prayer, a continual
stream of people was seen pouring into the large “basket” cathedral. As
we entered at 9 a.m. what an impressive sight awaited us! Perhaps the
first thing that attracted one’s attention was the veritable forest of
poles that supported the roof; but, then, looking down, the eye travelled
over a sea of black woolly heads—of about two thousand men dressed in
spotless white linen on one side, and of women draped in the bark cloths,
so soft and restful to the eye, on the other. There were no chairs or
pews, but each one brought a goat skin or grass kneeling mat. With no
muffled, inarticulate voice did they join in the service, but as they all
united in the Lord’s Prayer a noise as of thunder sounded throughout the
building. When the time for reading of the Scriptures had come, there
was a general unbandaging of Gospels or Testaments, which their owners
securely bind round in strips of calico to protect them.[2]
In the afternoon we paid a visit to the young king Daudi Chwa. His palace
is approached by passing through an endless number of courtyards formed
by woven cane fencings ten feet high. In some of these are circular
reed houses for his courtiers and servants; the last one is the royal
enclosure. Three round buildings stand here, coloured grass plaitings
over the entrance distinguishing them from others. In one, the audience
chamber, sat the King, then aged four years.
There was no furniture in the apartment; fine grass was carefully and
uniformly laid on the ground, over which mats were placed on a slightly
elevated reed dais. He was an important-looking little lad; his curious
get-up made him appear twice his age. In spite of the great heat, a man’s
European shirt fell in folds to his feet, and over this was an English
greasy black morning coat, made to fit a man of abnormal proportions.
Five women and two chiefs waited upon him. Not a word did he speak, but
stared uninterruptedly, and when on leaving we had reached the last
courtyard, I was peremptorily recalled. It was my velvet collar band he
wanted to inspect.
The form of native government is very highly developed and remarkable,
for a tribe that had had no contact with the forms of government adopted
by civilized nations. The feudal system is practically that in vogue
throughout the country, which is divided up into shires or districts
placed under a chief called the Saza, who has his own sub-chiefs. He
has the power of settling trifling local questions, but everything of
importance has to be transferred to the King.
The English Government had recently levied upon the whole Protectorate
a hut tax of 3 rupees yearly. This creates a new demand, and has had a
salutary effect on a people whose needs are so few, and these so easily
supplied, that they have had little necessity for learning the dignity of
work.
Tourists could easily spend some days profitably in Mengo, where there is
much of real interest to be seen. I will give my few days of excursion
trips, as there is no Baedeker on the subject.
First day.—Grand reception by natives.
Second day.—Visit to Cathedral, Schools, and Industrial Department of the
Church Missionary Society, open each day from 8.0 to 4.0. Pay respects to
His Majesty Daudi I., King of Uganda.
Third day.—Uganda “Picture Gallery” in the Bishop’s Palace (constructed
of mud and wattle). Every picture produced by the Bishop’s own brush
while journeying through the country. They were so beautiful and give
such a faithful idea of the country I simply longed to despatch the whole
lot home.
Fourth day.—Three miles’ walk to the ruins of Mackay’s Church and house.
Banana plantations now extend over his once carefully cultivated garden,
a few scattered bricks (the first and only introduction of bricks up to
that time in Mengo) point out the place where the foundation of the great
invisible Church of Uganda was laid. As one stood there one almost felt
surrounded by that crowd of witnesses of whom the world was not worthy.
Just to the front is that sacred spot where the first native converts
were martyred for their faith.
Fifth day.—Visit to the Hospital. I went with the doctor to observe and
take notes for future use. The day’s work commenced with a half-hour’s
service held in an open outside court. The gate was closed then against
those who might come for the medicine without the morning prayers. Some
150 patients were seeking attention this day, and they were allowed into
the tiny consulting room five at a time. They evidently have a good idea
of anatomy, for they have a word for nearly every bone and gland. Their
faith in the white doctor speaks eloquently of the cures he has effected.
One man was quite hurt because the surgeon would not take out his liver.
On the same day can be fitted in a bicycle ride to the native potteries.
Outside a small hut we found two men squatted moulding the soft clay
with their hands; a well rounded flint gave a polish to the pot, while a
strand of coarsely plaited grass stamped on the soft clay gave a border
impress. A huge wood furnace was burning in an adjoining court into which
the vessels were placed and baked. We were so interested in this process
that the sun had set before we were aware of it, and our ride home was
in pitch darkness over the deep rutted roads. I had a nasty fall which
suggested that it might be wiser to walk our machines the remainder of
the distance. When we reached Mengo sharp pain and swollen ankle told
of a sprain. This kept me a prisoner for three days. It was rather
providential, for the mail from England came in, and as no letters had
reached us since leaving the home shores, just ten weeks ago, a very big
budget was handed in to me. Only those who have really experienced it can
enter into the awful home-sickness that sometimes a girl feels on her
first long separation from England. After some amount of tossing about
and roughing it, to be suddenly carried back by a letter into the peace
and quiet of the home, and to read all the interesting little natural
bits which make you feel once again among the home circle, for a minute,
when no one is looking, you may behave like a big baby.
The destinations of our party of missionaries were soon definitely fixed;
I was asked to go as one of the first women to Toro, a separate and
independent kingdom nearly 200 miles further inland to the north-west of
Uganda. It involves a journey of 12 to 14 days, as the road is rather
tough and there are no conveyances. The wonderful growth of the work
there dates from the conversion of the King Kasagama at the beginning
of the year 1896, who was the first monarch to be baptized in the whole
Protectorate. In 1897 he wrote the following letter to the C.M.S.:—
TORO, February 1, 1897.
To my dear Friends the Elders of the Church in Europe.
I greet you very much in our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us
on the cross to make us children of God. How are you, sirs?
I am Daudi (David) Kasagama, King of Toro. The reason why I
commence to tell you that is because I wish you to know me
well.
God our Father gave me the Kingdom of Toro to reign over for
Him, therefore I write to you my brethren to beseech you to
remember me and to pray for me every day, all the days.
I praise my Lord very very much indeed for the words of the
Gospels He brought into my country, and you my brothers I
thank you for sending Teachers to come here to teach us such
beautiful words.
I therefore tell you that I want very much, God giving me
strength, to arrange all the matters of this country for Him
only, that all my people may understand that Christ Jesus He is
the Saviour of all countries, and that He is the King of all
kings. Therefore, sirs, I tell you that I have built a very
large Church in my Capital, and we call it “The Church of St.
John.”
Also that very many people come every day into the Church to
learn the “Words of Life,” perhaps 150, also on Sunday they
are very many who come to worship God our Father in His holy
Church and to praise Him. I also tell you that in the gardens
near here we have built six Churches. The people of this place
have very great hunger indeed for the “Bread of Life,” many
die every day while still in their sins because they do not
hear the Gospel. The teachers are few and those who wish to
read, many. Therefore, sirs, my dear friends, have pity upon
my people, in great darkness; they do not know where they are
going.
Also I want to tell you that there are very many heathen
nations close to my country—Abakonio, Abamba, Abahoko,
Abasagala, Abasongola, Abaega, and many others in darkness.
We heard that now in Uganda there are English ladies; but,
sirs, here is very great need for ladies to come and teach our
ladies. I want very very much that they come.
Also, my friends, help us every day in your prayers. I want my
country to be a strong Lantern that is not put out, in this
land of darkness.
Also I wish to make dear friends in Europe, because we are One
in Christ Jesus Our Saviour. Now good-bye, my dear friends. God
be with you in all your decisions.
I am your friend who loves you in Jesus,
DAUDI KASAGAMA.
How well I remember the deep impression that request made on me as I
read it, little realizing at the time that God would send me out in
answer to it. Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Lloyd were also located to Toro, and
Miss Pike, who had arrived in Uganda six months previously.
As soon as we knew our location we went off to Kampala, the market
place and Government station of Mengo, to lay in a stock of oil, wheat,
matches, bark cloths; also cowrie shells, beads, and calico, which are
the currency of the Toro district. Our purse took the shape of two large
sacks, each weighing 65lbs., and these needed two men to carry them.
Kampala was very different from Namirembe. Swahilis, Indians, Arabs, and
natives crowded the narrow, stuffy street called a market place. Open
booths extended down either side, and on shelves were displayed various
native grains and vegetable produce, while gorgeous coloured prints and
calicoes, beads, and brass wire adorned the outfitters’ shops. As we
passed along, small amused crowds followed us to see the “tall ladies.”
The law court would have shocked the members of the profession of Fleet
Street. It was a barn-like structure built of reeds; there were no
benches and witness boxes, the only official item being a coat of arms
wrought on an enamelled iron plate over the judge’s seat and table.
We heard there was a nice little white-washed mud house awaiting us in
Toro, but there were no windows or doors. The European missionary already
working there promised to make these when we supplied him with wood from
our packing-cases.
Toro was still in its very dark state, but the people were willing and
eager to learn. The Uganda of the present has been the result of years of
labour, the cost of noblest lives, the scenes of grandest heroism, the
patient, untiring, lonely work of such men as Mackay, Pilkington, and
many others. Toro appeared to have few physical dangers, but the moral
and spiritual difficulties were just the same. A fortnight’s journey
seemed a long distance to the nearest European station, especially to
one straight out from the roar and bustle of London life, the noise and
rattle of a large family of brothers and sisters.
We felt very incompetent implements, but remembered the prayers going up
for us in England, and believed that they would have power with the great
Master-Builder, the Architect of the ages—so that the habitation being
builded together for God in Toro might be “all glorious within.”