Religion
Central Africa may be said to have no religion, if by that we understand
belief in a God. It has produced no Buddha or Mahommed to make known
to its people some revelation of a deity, neither has it possessed any
ancient writings that a Confucius could bind together as a foundation
to a nation’s creed. In its belief we see the most pitiable product
of a dark, ignorant, and degraded mind, that, left to itself, has
worked out some antidote for that which is inherent in every man—an
indefinable longing after the spiritual. Its faith bears in it the seeds
of inevitable decay, for in its tenets can be found no trace of truth,
purity, or holiness, which, varying however much they may in degree,
hold together the great religious systems of the world. It might be
described briefly as Devil-worship or the Propitiation of Evil Spirits;
it differs in its rites and rituals among the various tribes. In Uganda
the practices of the people were more extreme, perhaps, but certainly
less torturing than in the Western Provinces of the Protectorate, where
superstition led to the most barbarous infliction of human suffering from
the cradle to the grave. For every real or imaginary evil and sickness
that fell upon the individual, family, or community, branding, cutting,
and mutilation of the body took place; while, without exception, all
the front teeth in the lower jaw were extracted as soon as ever they
appeared.
These customs, practised for so many generations, have had a very
deteriorating effect on the physical constitution of the people. The
strength of the natives has been sapped, their minds degraded, and their
energies crushed. They possess very small physical resources, and fall an
easy prey to any sickness that visits their district.
A few years ago, before the teachers of Christianity reached their
country, tiny devil temples, made of grass and twigs, stood in the
courtyards of the houses, and in these were placed, from time to time,
offerings of cowrie shells or food. One day there was brought to me at
the dispensary a child who was said to be devil-possessed. The physic
prescribed was so far successful that the grateful mother brought a
little thank-offering. It consisted of ten cowrie shells tied round a
small piece of papyrus stalk. When the child had fallen ill, the mother
had tied one of these shells to the strip of grass and given it as a
propitiatory offering to the devil; as the sickness increased, each day
another shell was added, until, finding her child become rather worse
than better, she brought her down to the dispensary. And as the European
had done what the devil refused to do, the woman took the shells away
from him and gave them to the white lady!
Generally speaking, the people are in partial or total ignorance of their
belief; they have never been taught it, and practise the rituals from
habit without realising their significance. The priests prescribe what
form the offerings shall take and their claims are never questioned;
besides this, they extort heavy fees each time they are consulted. They
profess to divine the will of the evil spirit by means of charms made of
sticks, hide, horns, and the entrails of fowls and goats. When Kasagama
was brought from Budu by Sir Frederick Lugard to be re-installed in his
kingdom of Toro, from which he had fled, as a young prince, from the
raiding bands of Bunyoro under King Kabarega, a white fowl was killed
and examined. The priest declared the omen augured that success and peace
should attend his reign. But Kasagama, being unacquainted with what they
had done, nearly brought upon himself the worst misfortune by approaching
near to the grave of the fowl. Had not his attendants just stopped him
from walking over the grave a moral offence would have been perpetrated
upon the body of the fowl and its spirit would have avenged the wrong!
By carefully clearing away the accumulated legends of centuries, one
finds, however, faint suggestions of a purer belief, which reminds one of
a saying by an Indian monarch, who lived in the 3rd century B.C., “The
sap of all religions is alike.”
There are a few Batoro whose memory recalls their primitive belief,
which, despite the contortions which time and repetition have effected,
bear a recognisable similarity to Old Testament revelations.
At the beginning of all history they say God and his brother Nkya were in
the world and made all things. Nkya had three sons whom he brought to God
to be named, and in order to do so He proved the heart of each man. When
the sons were brought in at night, to each of the sons was given a pot
full of milk and God ordered them to take care of it until the morning.
At midnight the youngest dozed and some of his milk got spilled; then he
turned to his brothers and asked them to fill up his pot with a little
from each of theirs, and this they did. After a short time the elder son
knocked over his pot and all the milk was spilled out. Then he begged the
others to give him of theirs, but they refused, saying, “And what shall
we do?” When the night had passed God came and uncovered each of the milk
pots. To the second son he said, “Where is your milk?” And he answered,
“The youngest’s milk was spilled and I filled up his pot.” And to the
eldest God said, “And yours?” He replied, “I slept and mine was all upset
and I asked my brothers to give me of theirs but they refused.” Then God
cursed him and called him Kairu (a little servant), saying that he should
become his brothers’ servant. And God said to the youngest, “You shall
be called Kakama (Little King), you shall rule all people, you shall be
King, and your second brother shall live with you and be your minister.”
After this God took counsel with his brother that they should leave the
world and go to their home in heaven, for there was very great sin in the
world, and God did not wish to kill man whom he had created. So God and
Nkya left the world and Kakama was left to rule the people. The Bunyoro
trace all their Kings back to this great Monarch.
Their fifth King was named Kantu, who they say brought punishment and
death into the world. Like his predecessors, he disappeared suddenly, and
is believed to have gone up to God to beg that disease and death might
visit the people. God then spoke with Nkya, his brother, and said it
was well people should die and come to life again after four days. But
Nkya said, “Let them die absolutely.” After this the little son of the
reigning king became ill and died, and the King Isaza sent to God and
said, “My son will not wake up.” God said, “What is his sleep like?” And
he replied, “Since lying down to sleep he will not move and he does not
breathe.” Then God sent to Isaza and told him to dig a hole and bury the
child. But the King did not understand what death was, and as he sat in
his house he sought for his son and ordered for him to be brought. But
his people told him that he would never again see his son; hearing this
the King lifted up his hands and as he stood over the grave he cursed
all men for the death of his child. For this God plagued his people with
sickness, but Isaza remained unsoftened, so God sent death to his second
son.
After this the King of Hell sent messages to the King Isaza, tempting
him with gifts to make a covenant with him; and after much hesitation
Isaza yielded and set out with his companion the Moon to visit the King
of Hell. When he had gone some distance the ground suddenly opened, and
Isaza was cast down till he reached the gate of Hell, from whence he
never returned. Whereupon the moon, grieving over the loss of his royal
friend, went up into the sky and has ever remained there.
The method of these people for making a covenant was that of
blood-brotherhood.
Each of the two parties took a coffee bean, dipped it in the blood from
a small incision made in his body, then handed it to his companion to
be eaten. It was a most sacred pledge of indissoluble union, a breach
of which met with immediate death. Whoever the King chose to honour
with blood brotherhood, was raised to the highest position, regardless
of his birth or estate. This has often made clear to them the passage,
“we who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.”
It is said that when the first English official passed through the
neighbouring country of Ankole, the King and people were in a state
of great consternation, speculating as to the purport of his visit.
The explanations of the Englishmen were not sufficient to allay their
suspicions, but on his agreeing to make “blood brotherhood” with the
King an understanding was arrived at and the confidence of the people
established.
Their ideas of an after life seem to have been of the very vaguest.
Their belief that the soul continues to exist after death was evident in
that they had a great fear of the spirits of the departed. A man on the
death of his wife (or one of them) did not marry again till the body had
decayed, for fear of offending the spirit of the dead. Frequently in the
villages are to be seen long zig-zag paths leading to the huts that are
supposed to baulk the spirits which only travel in straight lines.
Burial takes place immediately after death. The body is wrapped round
in bark cloths and with it are buried quantities of white calico, bark
cloths, and blankets, according to the wealth of the chief mourner. When
the head of the household dies he is buried in the courtyard of his
house, after which the hut is removed to another spot, so that the spirit
of the deceased shall not trouble the surviving members of the family.
When the King died the custom was for five women and four men of the
chief families of the land to be taken by force and buried alive with the
King, to complete the number ten, so that he should not be alone. A house
was then erected over the grave, and inside the surrounding fence the
Queen came and lived. Every day at daybreak she went with the keepers of
the tomb to clean it down and sweep out the courtyard. They lived on the
food and cows stolen from folks passing along on the roads. A man had to
forfeit all right to anything claimed for the “Gasani” (the King’s Tomb),
and could look for no reparation.
If a man dies without expressing any wish as to the disposal of his
belongings, his brothers, and not the wife and children, inherit them.
Among the Bahuma tribe the wife is included in the personalty and is
handed over as wife to the brother of the deceased. Our small milk boy,
of about fourteen years of age, came to me one day with a petition for
a rise in his wages, as he found it difficult to support his wife and
children on his present earnings. He then went on to explain that his
brother had died, leaving him to marry the rather elderly wife, who had
two children. I felt the right thing was to sympathise with him, but
quickly learned my mistake, for he was very well pleased with his legacy,
which gave him a wife to cultivate and cook for him without the usual
payment of goats and sheep.
The Batoro have little or no fear of death, in fact some seem rather glad
to create a little sensation among their friends by becoming for the
time the chief object of interest! On one occasion I was called to visit
a dying man in the Namasole’s village. With a little bag of medicine
strapped on to my saddle, I rode out to see if anything could be done.
An unusual stillness had fallen on everyone, for the sick man was none
other than the Katikiro of the place. Suddenly, as I stepped up to the
doorway of the hut, there arose a wild shriek from inside; this was taken
up immediately by everyone around and the air was rent with wailings and
loud, piercing screams—I knew at once my medicine would not be required,
but, entering, tried to quiet the frenzied mourners. I drew out from my
bag the Gospel of St. John, and read the words “I am the Resurrection and
the Life.” Immediately the tumult ceased, and everyone listened to the
message of Life spoken in the presence of Death; and as we all knelt in
prayer one realised perhaps as never before how death hath been swallowed
up in Victory. One of the greatest joys one can know is to wave the torch
of Life and Immortality across the darkness of ages that has never known
a hope beyond the grave.
The result of the people’s belief is stamped unmistakably on almost
everything in the country. With the lack of physical energy has died
the desire to master their country. The rich, productive soil, with its
abnormal generative properties, has been left uncared for and unkempt,
till “thorns also and thistles,” the insignia of a blighted world, cover
a land that might have been a veritable Eden.
Tall, tangled weeds creep up to the very doorways of the houses, while
most of the roads are merely narrow, beaten tracks. Whenever an attempt
is made to tackle an appreciable task, a few days suffices to exhaust
the labourer completely; at the end of that time he may be seen in a
state of total collapse, with a strip of rag bound tightly round the
hand, the outward and visible sign of being _hors de combat_.
In Toro one realises at times the dead weight of life and its
environment. The changes of the seasons—spring with the freshness of
infancy and vitality of youth; summer decked in the exquisite glory of
a new life; autumn and winter folding tired nature up in a long, deep
sleep—are sadly missed where the trees are always green. The sympathy
in nature is lacking; flowers lose their subtle and delicate charm; the
bright, soft sward is there exchanged for the elephant grass with its
saw-like blades. The birds have no song; the voices of music and poetry
have never been heard; and as age after age has rolled by, no lip has
breathed a prayer to its Creator. There are instances when heathenism
seems to surround one with such blackness that the soul stands as if
isolated in a foreign Land, breathing a new atmosphere in which there is
lacking the spiritual ether of one’s native land.