Missionary Work
Missionary enterprise in Uganda has been justly described as one of
the greatest modern triumphs of Christianity. Indeed, the record of
its workings read like pages from the annals of the infant Church in
Apostolic days. But, whereas in those times Christianity had to face the
most exclusive and bigoted form of belief, Judaism, the highly developed
intellectual power of Grecian learning, and the shameless profligacy of
civilized Rome, in Uganda it has had no force to contend against save
barbaric ignorance that could not stand before the advent of Truth and
Righteousness. After the missionaries had been working some years in the
country it occurred to them that the most effectual way of reaching the
people was to try and meet their insatiable demand for instruction by
instituting throughout the country little synagogues or reading schools,
where the people could come together daily and be taught to read by
one who had received some training. A little graduated reading sheet,
consisting of the alphabet, syllables, words, the Lord’s Prayer, and a
selection of texts, was circulated by the thousand at a charge of ten
cowrie shells each. By these means within a comparatively short time the
land had been sown with portions of Holy Scripture, which were being
eagerly read by the people, who possessed no other books.
Certainly the success of Christianity in Uganda has been due to the
widespread distribution of the Bible among the people and the remarkable
desire and ability on the part of the Baganda to impart whatever
knowledge they have been able to assimilate. It has been rightly said
that every country must be evangelized by its own people. Certainly this
has been proved to be so in Uganda. A European pioneer missionary is
obliged to travel with a certain number of things, and, however meagre
they may appear in his eyes, yet to these poor Africans they represent
great wealth and create a deal of suspicion. They will gather round him
half timidly and full of curiosity, and while he is endeavouring to
deliver his message to them, their eyes are travelling from his collar
stud to his boots, then from his bath to the frying-pan, and all the time
they are thinking within themselves, “Wonderful, wonderful; the white
man is beyond our understanding quite!” When they, at last, attempt to
listen and find that he is speaking to them in their own tongue, and not
in English, in spite of the slight foreign accent, they are absolutely
incredulous, for they cannot believe that they and the European can have
anything in common. The European is white, he has wisdom—great wisdom—he
is rich, but the African is black and a fool, and a beggar; the white
man worships one great, wonderful Spirit, and the black man worships a
spirit—only it is an evil one. On the other hand, if one of the native
converts goes out on pioneer work, he ties all his possessions in a
sleeping mat, and off he starts with the little bundle on his head.
When he reaches his destination, he creates no suspicion or fear, as he
unrolls his mat, shakes out his bark-cloth covering, and takes a drink
of water from his gourd; they see he possesses nothing beyond what they
themselves own. But as he draws out of a little cotton bag a Book, they
all gather round to inspect the novelty, and he tells them that the Book
is a written voice, and the letters stand for the words uttered; he has
learned to read the signs, and he has come to teach them to do so, for
it is God’s voice that has spoken to them. Immediately their excitement
is aroused, and the teacher from that time has found his pupils. As there
is no house large enough to hold them all, they set to work to build a
reading school, and, as many come from a distance and are anxious not
to arrive late for the day’s lessons, a big drum is hung outside the
building and beaten every morning at 7.0 and 1.0 to warn everybody that
in one hour reading will commence. After a few months, when the European
visits the station on an itinerating tour, he finds a demonstrative
welcome awaiting him. Food is brought and banana juice to show their
gratitude for the teacher having been sent. Then their books are produced
in order that the European may hear the great wisdom they have learned,
and others come with questions about words they have read in their
Gospels and do not understand. Uganda to-day is calling out for European
missionaries more than it ever was, not to evangelise the heathen but to
organise, train and instruct the thousands of Christian men and women,
that they may be capable of taking their place among the civilised
nations of the world, and become a praise and a glory in their land.
It was through two young Baganda teachers that Christianity was first
carried into Toro in the year 1895. At that time the country was in a
very unsettled state. The King, Kasagama, had not long been established
on the throne, and his chiefs were not too eager to own allegiance to
him. Soon after the arrival of these two evangelists, Kasagama was
falsely accused before the British Officer in charge of the Government
Station there, and was thrown into the chain gang. On his release he was
advised to go into Mengo to the Government headquarters and have his case
gone into. His stay there ran into some months. During that time he was
deeply impressed by the change that Christianity had effected in Uganda,
and attended the Church classes daily that he might receive instruction.
When Her Majesty’s Commissioner had heard the charges and exonerated
Kasagama he was told to return to his Kingdom with full power ratified by
the British Government. Before leaving Uganda he begged Bishop Tucker to
be allowed to publicly confess his faith in Christ by Holy Baptism, and
asked that a European missionary might be sent to Toro to help him and
his people to increase in the wisdom of God. Meanwhile there was great
excitement in Toro when the people heard that their king, after such a
long absence, was coming back to them, and they collected together in
hundreds at the capital to welcome him. As he mounted the hill, leading
to his house, the people thronged him, dancing and screaming with joy and
poured into his courtyards. Then, standing up and ordering them to remain
quiet, he delivered his speech to them. He told of all the wonderful
things he had seen in Mengo, of his own confession of Christianity in
the Cathedral, and concluded by saying that he wished his country to go
forward in strength and wisdom, and this could only be obtained from
God, so he called on his people to believe in his God, to stand by him
faithfully in the united desire for the good of their country.
From that day the teachers had as much as they could do to instruct all
those who came forward to be taught; and when Bishop Tucker arrived there
the following year with Mr. Fisher, who was to establish a permanent
station, he found fifteen men and women ready for baptism.
Excepting in the case of old people, everyone in Uganda desirous of being
baptised must first learn to read. When they have passed the standard
required of them and are ready to enter a baptismal class, they are
obliged to bring with them two witnesses or sponsors who can vouch for
the sincerity of their belief by the outward conformity of their lives
to the teaching of Christianity. Then, for from three to six months
instruction is given them for two hours four days a week. At the end
of this course of teaching each candidate is carefully examined, and
should the result be satisfactory the name is read out twice in Church
and anyone is asked to bring forward a reason, if such there be, for
keeping back the candidate from baptism. Thus every care is taken to test
converts thoroughly before admitting them into this sacred rite.
Toro very soon sought to emulate the church in Uganda in recognising its
responsibility to those living in darkness around, and one year after the
founding of the work in the capital, young men came forward and offered
themselves to be trained as teachers to the distant villages. Apart from
an honest desire to enlighten those who have not received the Truth as
it is in Christ Jesus, there is little to tempt men to devote themselves
to this service—the only payment they receive is sufficient unbleached
calico with which to clothe themselves. The people in the villages who
have sent in the pressing request for a teacher are expected to build
their own “synagogue,” as well as house, and feed the teacher sent to
them. In this way the whole native church organisation throughout the
Protectorate is self-supporting. In Toro alone, seven years after the
introduction of Christianity, there were no less than eighty-five mission
stations established throughout the Kingdom, with a staff of one ordained
Muganda deacon and one hundred and five paid men and women teachers, all
supported entirely by the young Christian Church. Besides these there was
a strong band of honorary workers who taught in the capital on weekdays
or went out to the near villages on Sundays.
Once a year there is a “review of the troops,” when all the
teachers—regulars, reservists, and volunteers—come into the capital for
re-equipment and reappointment.
One of these events took place after we had been in the country only a
few months, when we were decidedly new to the way things were managed
out here, and still retained a fair amount of the provincialism of home
training; so when a teachers’ conference was announced we conjured up in
our minds a kind of forthcoming Mildmay or Keswick Convention on a small
scale, but the arrangements took a slightly different form. The first day
opened with a big feast to all the workers. The dispensary was converted
for the day into the banquetting hall; the entrance was draped in gaudy
native cloths, and the floors of the two rooms were carpeted with banana
leaves. The men were allocated to one room and the women to the other.
Long before the hour of the feast the guests had arrived and packed
themselves as closely together as was possible in circles of seven or
eight, the King and his chiefs forming one of the groups. An ox had been
killed for the feast; it was boiled in banana leaves and served up with
quantities of unsweetened, cooked bananas. Prodigious piles were placed
in the centre of each circle of guests, and then business began! Off came
their top draperies or coats, and with bare arms all eagerly outstretched
towards the food they dived into their food with astonishing rapidity
and energy. The banana mash was rolled round the fingers into balls and
stuffed down their throats without any regard being given to mastication.
The King and chiefs seemed to momentarily forget their dignity, and ate
till the perspiration rolled down their faces. Tea was served round in
kettles; every available cup, mug, basin and jug on the station had been
collected together for the use of the guests—and the two-quarts jugs were
far more popular than afternoon tea cups.
With no small compunction I submitted myself to the native custom and
joined in the feast. After a series of hand ablutions I sat on the floor
next to the King’s mother, who picked some of the choicest bits of meat
off a bone and set them before me. It was such an effort for 3.0 p.m. in
the tropics, and visions of Mildmay’s shilling tea tent, with its ices
and strawberries, made at least the first stage of the Conference appear
very different.
The King’s band, with its medley of instruments, round drums, cylindrical
drums, squat drums, horns, and reed pipes decorated with monkey tails,
performed boisterous symphonies outside. But when, after the feast, the
people were for the first time introduced to the phonograph, the Toro
band stood still in astonishment, and as an English orchestral band
roared out “Soldiers of the Queen” it felt quite eclipsed and could only
exclaim “Ekyamahano, ekyamahano” (marvellous, truly marvellous).
The following day the real Convention started, and was continued
over three days. The mornings were entirely given over to devotional
meetings, and in the afternoons the workers were asked to bring forward
difficulties met with in their work, and discussions were invited as
to what more effectual measures could be employed in organisation and
in strengthening of the various mission stations. Throughout all the
meetings a deep and earnest interest was evinced by the teachers. It was
most encouraging to watch the enthusiasm gradually growing and to hear
the young teachers talk of their work and their peculiar difficulties
relating to the subject treated.
A specially impressive service was held when all the workers gathered
in from near and far distant heathen districts met together at Holy
Communion.
Before returning to their spheres of service a large missionary meeting
was held in the church, at which most stirring accounts were given of
the victories against the powers of darkness. At the close, a collection
was taken up. For this a large packing case was placed in the centre of
the chancel to receive the larger contributions and a row of baskets for
the smaller offerings. Then the people came up in single file to place
in their gifts; one brought a tusk of ivory, another a huge bundle of
bananas, others beans, potatoes, and sugar cane, the Queen forty yards of
fine white linen, others chickens, and finally a goat was brought up and
tied to the pillar. One little boy, carried away by the impulse of the
moment, put his little fez cap into the basket, and as this was only a
loan it had to be redeemed afterwards.
The sight was very remarkable. It was as if one had been taken back to
the Court of the Tabernacle at the Feast of First fruits. The similarity
of these people’s lives with those of Old and New Testament history is
so strong that it is difficult to convey to the native mind the idea of
distance in time, and often one is asked if Joseph, the son of Jacob, was
the husband of the Virgin Mary, or if Paul before his conversion was the
first King of Israel.
The Toro Church has now reached its sifting time. The excitement and
rash enthusiasm of infancy have matured into the more evenly balanced
judgment of manhood. Its disciples are learning to weigh the demands of
its tenets, its refusal to compromise with sin and with almost everything
that has constituted their existence for centuries past, and its call
for constant activity of heart and hand as opposed to the intolerable
indolence of their nature. All these things must constantly be borne in
mind by the missionary if he is not to be unnecessarily depressed by
occasional failure on the part of the converts. One must not look for
impossibilities, and the growth of past centuries cannot be destroyed in
a day. I am not sure but that too much is expected of the young teachers.
For instance one goes out to the villages when only quite a youth with a
hereditary taint, many generations old, of the worst forms of heathenism
as against two or three years of religious instruction. He is the only
Christian in the village, and, indeed, for miles round; and there he is
surrounded by the old heathen practices and constantly tempted to return
to habits of the past, while he has not the same normal amount of moral
and intellectual strength which nerves an English lad to fight against
these external influences and internal tendencies. And yet only about
twenty per cent. of them really fail.
King Daudi Kasagama once said that the white man could never understand
how fierce was the black man’s conflict with himself at times. The one
has generations of civilization and Christianity as a rear-guard, and the
other, centuries of corruption and self-indulgence. Without trust in a
Divine keeping power, said he, one would inevitably fall. Ten years have
now passed by since the Baganda teachers left for heathen Toro, and in
that time the character of almost the entire country has been practically
transformed. British jurisdiction has established peace throughout the
Kingdom, and now that an end has been put to tribal and civil warfare,
there is nothing to distract the mind of the people from settling down
and learning to improve their land.
In the districts that have come under the influence of Christianity,
heathenism has been abolished, if not absolutely at least in the outward
form of practice. Over three thousand converts have been baptized, and
although this only represents a very small proportion of the inhabitants,
it includes mainly the more influential and leading body of men.
The desire of the Batoro for teaching and their love of reading promise
much for the future of the country if this can be satisfactorily coped
with immediately and not starved by inability on the part of the
missionaries to meet the need. It certainly cannot be said of Uganda
and Toro “of the making of books there is no end.” The Baganda are, I
believe, limited to ten books, namely:—
Holy Bible.
Prayer Book.
Hymn Book.
Oxford Bible Helps.
“Search and Find.”
Geography Book.
“Pilgrim’s Progress.”
“Kings of Uganda.”
English Primer.
Commentaries on three Gospels.
Those of the Batoro who do not understand Luganda and so are confined
to books written in their own language, only possess the New Testament,
Prayer Book, with Psalms and Hymn Book. Through the generous aid of the
British and Foreign Bible Society, the Religious Tract Society, and the
S.P.C.K., which have provided the country with almost the whole of its
literature, these books have been supplied at a cost price, much under
their cost of production and carriage, so as to bring them within the
possible reach of the people, who, as a whole, are exceedingly poor.
But even so, it is generally necessary, in the villages especially, for
the people to make real efforts to supply themselves with books they
require. A curious scene was enacted in the courtyard of our house when
the teachers came in from their stations on the first Monday in every
month to execute the orders for books or stationery entrusted to them
by their people. Our yard was temporarily converted into a live-stock
market, for the purchases were rarely made with cash. The most popular
currency was cowrie shells, which were tied up in bundles by means of
dried banana bark, but when these were beyond the means of the would-be
purchaser, he would send in by his teacher a goat, or chickens, or eggs.
A curious shaped till was needed by the salesman! One of his orders would
be for “One chicken, Matthew,” which being interpreted was “One Gospel of
St. Matthew, price one chicken.”
Another man, after purchasing a hymn book for six eggs, would ask if he
had enough eggs over to buy Bunyan. It frequently happened that a lad
had been carefully collecting the eggs from his one hen for weeks, but
as the hen had not been very obliging by the time the right number was
reached, the salesman was distinctly out of profit through his customer.
Others, who possessed nothing saleable, came in from distances of ten to
fifteen miles and asked to be hired for work during the day, in the late
afternoon they would set off on their journey home the proud owners of
the little hymn book or reading sheet which had been thoroughly earned.
At the close of one of the terms of the teachers’ preparation class,
prizes were to be given for the best answers at their examination, and
the first prize was to be the option of four yards of calico or a Bible.
The one who on this particular occasion stood out preeminently first
was a peasant youth of about eighteen years of age with exceptionally
well-formed and forceful features. His dress consisted of a coarse piece
of the bark-cloth knotted on the shoulder: having come from a distant
district he had never known the luxury of the calico garments worn by the
more fortunate town folk. As he came forward to receive his prize, the
choice between the calico and the Bible was given him. For a while he
stood handling the material, then looked down at his own shabby garment;
but it was only a momentary hesitation—laying aside the calico, he took
up the Bible and clasping it with both hands, said “My master, the Bible
has got the better of the cloth.”