Satu receives a Title
The King sends for medicine--He is told to apply to St. Catherine--The
King’s promise--Bakula bids farewell to his white friend--King’s
deputy goes with us to Satu’s town--Ceremony of conferring the
title--Killing a leopard--Satu redeems his brother--Releases his
niece from a hateful marriage--A story: "Appearances are sometimes
Deceptive"--A chief asks for Satu’s niece in marriage--Marriage
money is paid--The wedding--Satu gains a new slave.
One day Bakula was chatting with the white man in his house when a head
man arrived from his majesty, saying: “The King has many pains in his
stomach, and he wants some medicine to stop them. Will you send some?”
“No,” replied the white man, “I will not send him any. For several weeks
I attended the King during his severe illness, and immediately on his
recovery he, at the request of the padres, went to their church and
thanked St. Catherine for his restoration to health. Go and tell him
that as he thanked St. Catherine for his recovery, he must now ask St.
Catherine for medicine to stop the pains in his stomach.”
The messenger could hardly repress a smile as he said: “That is only
fair,” and hurried off to deliver his message.
“Will you not send some medicine?” asked the King’s nephew, who was
standing by.
“Yes, perhaps by and by, but not just yet,” replied the white man. “He
has eaten too much, and colic is the result. It will not hurt him to
bear the gripings for a time; and then I will send him some medicine and
advice. You know,” continued the speaker, “that I went at sunrise every
morning for five weeks to wash his foul, sloughing sore, and bind it in
clean bandages; and he was grateful for all that was done for him, and
often said that I had saved his life, and now I want to teach him that
these saints who have rotted away to dust generations ago cannot help
him.”
By now the messenger returned to say that the King will not go to St.
Catherine again if the white man will send him some medicine at once.
To him the missionary replied: “Tell the King he had better wait a
little longer before making such a conditional promise. St. Catherine
may be busy somewhere else, and cannot come to Congo just now, even for
a King. You see, she must have a lot to do in all parts of the world,
and as she is only a saint, and not God, she cannot be everywhere at
once.”
Off went the man with the message, and this time he could not suppress
his laughter.
“Tell the cook-boy to make some hot water quickly,” said the white man
to a boy who was squatting near the door.
The King’s nephew, in apologetic tones, said: "The King’s position is a
very difficult one. He loves Vianga, Yoani, Bentele, Alli[50] and you
very much. You English were the first to bring God’s palaver to him and
his people, every day you cure them of their diseases with your
medicines, and you teach them all kinds of good ways; but the padres
give him bales and bales of cloth and many boxes of beads. You know he
is always greedy for trade goods and fine clothes; and these he receives
in abundance from the Roman Catholic padres, hence when they asked him
to go to their church to thank St. Catherine for his recovery, he was
afraid to refuse them, although he believes in his heart what you
frequently told him: that God blessed your medicine to his restoration.
To show how he loves you English teachers, listen to what happened about
a month ago. All the padres went to the King and told him that he was to
order all his people to attend their church, and never again to go to
your services. They were angry because their church was nearly empty
every Sunday. They threatened to leave the town immediately, and that
would mean a stoppage of all their presents, if he did not issue the
order they requested. The King absolutely refused to command his people
to attend either service, and said: ‘They shall be free to go wherever
they like.’"
Footnote 50:
Revs. T. J. Comber, John Hartland, W. H. Bentley, and H. E.
Crudgington.
“I have always felt sorry for the trying position of the King,” said the
white man, “and fully sympathize with him in his difficulties; but he
is, as we say in English, trying to sit on two stools, and that is
always very uncomfortable to the sitter, and most irritating to the
stools.”
Just then three head men came hurrying into the house to beg again for
some medicine, and to promise on behalf of the King that he would never
again thank St. Catherine for what she did not, and could not
accomplish. So the white man called for the hot water, and, mixing a
glass of physic, sent it to the King.
In a short time the man returned with the report that the King felt
better directly he drank the medicine.
“What was it you gave him?” he asked of the white man.
“Only some peppermint, hot water and sugar,” replied the missionary.
“You tell the King from me,” he continued, “that he is not to eat so
much.”
Bakula informed his white friend that he had come to bid him good-bye,
for at “cock-crow” in the morning he and his party would be starting
back for their town.
“Will you not come and live with me, and let me teach you God’s
palaver?” asked the white man of the lad.
“For many reasons,” replied Bakula, “I would like to come and learn to
read, write, do carpentry and hear more about God; but this station is a
long way from my home, and my family will not let me come so far. My
uncle lives in the Ngombe district, and perhaps they will let me go to
the mission school there.”
“Well, you can learn there as well as here; but I should have liked you
to live with me,” and there was a note of tenderness in the teacher’s
voice, and tears were not far from his eyes as he spoke to the lad. And
after a quiet talk with my owner about what he had heard at the
services, and expressing the hope that they would see each other again
soon, the white man and Bakula separated, never to meet again on earth.
Bakula had frequently tried to induce Old Plaited-Beard to have some
conversation with the white man, but had failed every time, not through
lack of earnestness and persistency on Bakula’s part; but because of the
old man’s superstitious fear and hatred of white men. The discussions on
the subject had been long and often loud, and when Old Plaited-Beard was
unsuccessful in proving his charges of witchcraft against the white man,
or failed in proving that the white man bought up dead bodies and sent
them to Mputu, he then fell back on another accusation: that the white
men had come to steal their country from them.
On one occasion Bakula led the white man towards the place where Old
Plaited-Beard was sitting; but no sooner did the superstitious old man
see him coming in the distance than he ran into the inner room of the
nearest house, and would not come out until he was assured that the
white man had gone.
Early next morning Bakula and his party, accompanied by Kapitau and some
followers, started on their return journey. On the road Old
Plaited-Beard and the Kapitau had long talks, and although the
prejudiced views of the old man were received with coldness by the
King’s deputy, yet in one point they agreed, and that was “that the
white man would rob them of their country and make them all slaves.”[51]
Footnote 51:
See note 40, p. 353.
Wherever we stayed for a night the people paid most humble homage to
Kapitau, as representing the King, and supplied him with plenty of food
and palm-wine; consequently every evening was spent in feasting and
drinking, and there was scarcely a night that the elders of the party
went to bed sober.
On arriving at Satu’s town Kapitau and his companions received a great
ovation. The people crowded the road to set eyes on the man who had been
sent by the great King of Congo to confer a title on their own chief.
They vied with each other in shouting, clapping, and beating their
mouths. Drums were thumped, ivory horns blown, and guns fired; and the
din was such that it seemed more like pandemonium let loose for a riot
than a friendly welcome to an honoured visitor and guest. To show due
respect to the King’s deputy a good house was given him, and an abundant
supply of food. In two or three days the party was rested and the
necessary preparations for the ceremony were completed.
On the appointed day a large crowd gathered, composed of Satu’s mother’s
clan, who were especially called. Those members of his father’s clan who
desired to be present were welcomed, but all other clans were carefully
excluded. The assembly formed a large circle, in the centre of which a
leopard’s skin was spread and a seat placed on it.
The Kapitau went up to Satu, who was sitting among his people, and
hooking his index finger in the little finger of Satu’s left hand, led
him up to the leopard’s skin, and walking him round it as far as the
tail, told him to step over it. Then, leading him to the front of the
chair, he seated him in it, whereupon the crowd of onlookers slapped the
loosely closed fists of their left hands with the palms of their right
hands.
The Kapitau put on the new noble’s head some _lemba-lemba_ leaves, and
wetting his hands with palm-wine, pressed them to Satu’s temples, to the
back and front of his head, to his shoulders and to his knees. This was
to make him throb with life, wise in the head, strong in body and legs.
This ceremony was repeated three times, and a blessing was pronounced in
the following words: May you be happy and lucky, and when you speak may
your words be heard (_i. e._ obeyed) by the people. And again the crowd
shouted and clapped.
When the folk had exhausted themselves into quietness the Kapitau asked
loudly three times: “Do you know this man’s name?” and the people
replied each time: “No, we do not know his name!” Then the King’s deputy
exclaimed loudly: “It is _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_.” The men and women,
hearing this, rounded their mouths with pursed lips, and beat them with
the extended fingers of their right hands, making thereby a long series
of _Wo! Wo! Wo!_ and again the drums were beaten, guns fired, and ivory
trumpets sounded until the very air seemed to quiver with discordant
noises.
The Kapitau then instructed the new noble how he was to deport himself
as a man of high rank. In future he must not, when walking, visiting,
hunting or trading, carry anything except his walking-stick or gun. In
fact, he was never again to carry anything like a boy or an ordinary
man. Should any person meet him bearing any article, save his stick or
gun, such a person may take away the said article and either keep it for
himself or sell it. Should he shoot any game he must send some one for
it, for if he attempted to bring it into the town himself, the first to
meet him may deprive him of his spoils. He must never, under any
circumstances, gather firewood or fetch water; and, lastly, the new
noble must never beat his wives, and should he so far forget himself as
to do so, he may be mulcted in a fine of several fowls or one goat.
These instructions completed, a bracelet was put on his arm as a sign of
his new and important rank.
Satu gave the Kapitau four pieces of cloth and a pig to compensate him
for his trouble; and a great feast of pigs, goats and palm-wine was
prepared for the people in honour of the occasion. The night was
occupied with gluttony, dancing, immorality and drunkenness, for men and
women, boys and girls were reeling about in maudlin intoxication all
over the town. Fortunately they had nothing but palm-wine to drink,
which never makes the drinkers quarrelsome, like the fiery waters
supplied by traders.
Only chiefs are permitted to own and use leopards’ skins, and when one
of these animals is slain there is considerable local excitement as to
which chief will gain possession of the skin by his largesse to the
fortunate slayer of the brute.
The other week a leopard was killed in our neighbourhood, and the lucky
man who shot it had it carried from chief to chief in the district. The
front and back paws were tied, and a pole was passed through the legs
and hoisted on to the shoulders of some men. In this ignominious
fashion--dangling from a pole--the prize was hawked from place to place.
One chief gave four kegs of gunpowder (worth 16_s_.); another gave seven
blankets (worth 21_s_.); another, who already owned a leopard skin, and
could not afford a second, presented eight looking-glasses (worth
5_s_.); and thus each gave, not knowing what the others had given. Satu
gave four blankets, three kegs of powder, and two rugs (worth in all
30_s_.), and thus exceeded the others in generous presents. Directly it
was known who gave the largest sum to the leopard slayer, Satu went and
put his foot on the beast, and thus established his claim to it. The
animal was removed and in due time skinned. It could not be flayed until
it was trodden on by its future owner.
The leopard after it is killed is always referred to with great respect
as _Mfumu_, or chief; and after the carcass has made the circuit of the
chiefs it is carried back to the hunter’s town, and two or three days
are given wholly to festivities. Guns are fired, drums are beaten, the
people dance and sing songs in honour of the slayer of _Mfumu_, and much
palm-wine is drunk. The leopard is then flayed and eaten. Some ate the
flesh believing they would become lithe, cunning and strong like the
leopard, but others refused to eat it from a superstitious fear of
spots--like the leopard’s--breaking out on their own skins.
The gifts presented by the various chiefs paid the expenses of the
festivities, and Satu sat on this skin when he was invested with the
high rank of a noble. If the skin had been given to a chief out of the
district in which the hunter killed the animal it would have been
resented as an insult, and the towns and villages would have combined to
fight the hunter’s town or enforced the payment of a heavy fine.
Satu’s deceased brother was a very poor trader, and had such frequent
losses on his trading journeys that on one occasion he was compelled to
“pawn” one of his younger brothers to a neighbouring chief to pay his
many debts. He had borrowed fifty pieces of cloth on his brother, and
although he frequently afterwards possessed more than that number, and
in fact died worth more than three hundred pieces, yet he never troubled
to redeem his brother, but left him in servitude. As a “pledge in pawn”
the brother received no pay from the one who held him, no matter how
hard he laboured.
Satu, on the other hand, was a keen, successful trader, and had
accumulated a great amount of native wealth. Consequently, as a rich man
and a noble, he was expected by public opinion to redeem his brother out
of bondage. One of Satu’s first acts after his dignity was conferred on
him was to take the fifty pieces of cloth, a calabash of palm-wine and a
_white_ goat; and, calling Bakula and others to carry the goods and
accompany him as witnesses, went to the town where his brother was held
in slavery.
On reaching the town he sent for the pawnbroker or holder, who came at
once followed by a few friends, who all paid homage to Satu as a great
noble. The natives bowed to the King and rendered homage three times at
each of the three places as they approached; but to Satu they bowed only
once at each place as they drew near.
When all were seated, the calabash of wine was handed round and solemnly
drunk by the two principal men and their witnesses. The fifty pieces of
cloth were counted out and handed over, and the _white_ goat was
presented. This _white gift_ was called _nkusw’ a mpemba_, or a being
rubbed white. On receiving this _white_ goat the man who held the pawn
in pledge arose to his feet and rubbed some chalk with his fingers by
the side of the right ear of the pawn. The ceremony is complete, the
pawn is redeemed, and the chalk is a sign that he is _clean_ from his
bondage, and there is nothing more against him. Satu and his brother
embraced each other and returned together to their town. The slur of
slavery now being wiped out of the family, no one would again taunt them
with it.
Satu now turned his attention to help his only niece. It appears that
when she was a baby only one or two days old, a man of middle age
entered her mother’s house, and dropped a bead into the saucepan that
stood by the fire, and from which the hot water was taken to wash the
baby. The dropping in of the bead gave the man a claim on the girl to
become his wife when old enough. No one else could marry her unless the
girl were released by the payment of a heavy sum for breach of custom.
When the child, Sono, reached the age of seven, her deceased uncle had
acknowledged the claims of the “bead dropper” to his niece’s hand by
asking him to pay ten pieces of cloth as marriage money. He could and
should have asked more, but he was in difficulty, and glad to accept any
sum he could get. As Sono came to realize the small amount that was
given for her, she became angry with her uncle and with the man who
regarded her as his cheaply bought wife; and this feeling was increased
by the girls and boys in her town jeering at her for not being worth
more than the price of two pigs.
When she arrived at a marriageable age she refused to marry the old man,
and had repeatedly begged her uncle to release her by returning the
marriage money and another ten pieces as interest for the use of the
money for the past ten years. Her deceased uncle, who was then the head
of her family, had refused to part with so much cloth merely to gratify
the whim of a girl, and, besides, he always pleaded poverty.
There seemed no prospect of release for her from a very hateful marriage
with an old man who already possessed twelve wives--most of whom had
bad, quarrelsome tempers, and would make her life miserable. She had
determined to kill herself[52] as her only means of escape; but now that
another and richer uncle was head of the family she renewed her appeal
with success.
Footnote 52:
See note 41, p. 354.
The bridegroom-elect was a crafty old man who thoroughly recognized the
advantage of an alliance with so great a family if he could coerce the
girl into marrying him, or the possibility of making some money out of
the breaking of the covenant should her uncle support her in her
continued refusal of him.
He therefore feigned surprise when he was requested to release Sono from
her betrothal to him, and asked in anger: “Was he not great enough to
become a member of Satu’s family! Was he not a great man himself, and
owned twelve wives! What objection had lord Satu to him?”
Satu did not attempt to argue these matters with the old man, but went
straight to the point by asking how much he wanted before he would
release his niece.
“Well,” replied the man, “I paid ten pieces of cloth, besides palm-wine,
and various odds and ends of trade goods, worth in all fifteen pieces,
as marriage money, and your family has had the use of that amount for
ten years; so I shall not take less than one hundred pieces of cloth to
release her from the betrothal.”
“That is a ridiculous price to put on her,” retorted Satu angrily. “I
will give you twenty-five pieces, one pig, one keg of gunpowder, one
calabash of palm-wine, and one soldier’s coat.”
“But you are now a great chief, and a noble of high rank,” contended the
old man, “and any one will give sixty pieces of cloth for your niece as
marriage money in order to marry into so grand a family. I will not take
a fathom less than ninety pieces. Let me tell you a story of a girl who
refused her betrothed for frivolous reasons, and was badly treated by
her chosen husband.” The old man then related this story, called
“Appearances are Sometimes Deceptive.”
“Once upon a time a girl was betrothed by her parents to a Mr. Hawk, and
for a time she was satisfied with her sweetheart; but by and by she
complained that his face was too black. Her parents tried to teach her
that a man was not to be accepted simply because he had a beautiful
face, nor rejected for only possessing a very plain, black one; but she
would not listen to them.
“One day she put on her ornaments and best cloths, and went to the
market, where she met a young man whose name was Oily-face,[53] because
it was polished so brightly with palm-oil.
Footnote 53:
See note 42, p. 354.
“Mr. Oily-face’s country was a long way off, and when he left home he
had a nasty body covered with pimples and scabs, and his eyes bulged
out. As he passed through the towns he borrowed a face, some hair, new
teeth and a nice skin; consequently when he reached the market he looked
a very pleasant young man.
“This Mr. Oily-face saw the girl standing in the market, and said to
her: ‘I would like to marry you.’ She looked at him, and seeing he had a
beautiful light skin, well-plaited hair, and nice white teeth, she said:
‘All right, come and see my parents.’
“When they reached her town she said to her family: ‘Here is a young man
who wants to marry me.’ Oily-face looked so bashful, and showed such
respect to the girl’s mother, that they were all pleased with him. Very
soon they were married, and shortly after started for Oily-face’s
country.
“They had not gone very far on the road when some one called out:
‘Oily-face, return my hair.’ Another shouted: ‘Give me back my teeth.’
In another town a man requested Oily-face to return the face that he had
lent him; and another said: ‘Give me back my stomach and take your own;
it eats too much.’ Thus at last he was reduced to his own nasty body,
pimply skin and bulging, ugly eyes.
“After walking many days they reached their town, and the people came
round asking Oily-face where he had procured his wife. He told them that
she had come from a far country which was ten days’ journey away. They
welcomed her, but next morning they surrounded the house wishing to eat
her.
“She came outside and said: ‘Wait, don’t eat me yet; but beat your drums
and I will dance.’
“So she danced all day to amuse them, and sang a song about a Mr. Hawk
being very good, with beautiful, curving feathers; and how sorry she was
for not accepting him as her husband. Every morning they wanted to kill
and eat her; but she danced and sang to please them.
“One day Mr. Hawk passed that way, and, looking down, saw the woman,
heard her song, and felt full of pity for her. He told her parents of
their daughter’s danger, and promised to save her. Next day, therefore,
he flew off, swooped down, and carried her back to her own family, who
were glad to receive her amongst them again. After a time she married
Mr. Hawk, and never any more found fault with the colour of his face.”
“There,” continued the narrator, “your niece will be sorry she did not
marry me when she is badly treated by some dandy who has borrowed his
beauty from other people. Give me eighty pieces of cloth and I will
release her.”
To him Satu replied, with a laugh: “I will take care that no such dandy
marries my niece and carries her off to a distant country. Besides, my
niece is not so foolish as to make friends with any swells (_etoko dia
fioti_) on the market.” Satu offered twenty-eight pieces and the other
articles, and asserted that he would not put another fathom on the
price.
They argued about the affair all that afternoon and for the two
succeeding days, and at last it was agreed that Satu should pay
thirty-five pieces of cloth to the old man, one pig, one keg of
gunpowder, one soldier’s coat, one gun, and a calabash of palm-wine, and
thus the palaver was settled to every one’s satisfaction.
A month or two after the release of Sono, a young chief of a
neighbouring village arrived, followed by a man carrying a large
calabash of palm-wine. Bakula greeted him, and walked with him to Satu’s
house. There the young man asked for Satu, who, on appearing, received
homage from the chief and inquired his business.
“I very much wish to marry your niece, Sono,” replied the young man,
“and I have brought a calabash of palm-wine to start the negotiations.
Will you drink it?”
If Satu had refused to drink the wine the young chief would have taken
it away, knowing that there was not the smallest hope of him ever
marrying into Satu’s family; but Satu did not refuse the wine; he
accepted it, and sat down and drank it with the suitor for his niece’s
hand.
Having drunk the wine, Satu sent for some food, so that the young chief
might refresh himself for his return journey; and without giving him a
decided answer he told his niece’s admirer to come back in four days. So
far Satu had not pledged himself, but had simply listened favourably to
the suit.
On the appointed day the chief, carrying more palm-wine, returned to
Satu, who, having drunk the wine, informed the aspirant to his niece’s
hand that he was quite willing to regard him as a suitable husband for
Sono if all other matters could be arranged; and that the marriage money
would be fifty pieces of cloth, two blankets, one pig, fifty brass rods,
and five round looking-glasses.
This large sum was asked on the ground that Satu wanted a guarantee that
the suitor for his niece was wealthy before he would admit him into so
great a family.
The young man was staggered at the price demanded; and tried to reduce
it, without success. He was, however, enamoured of the lady, and at last
promised to collect the various goods. But it required repeated trading
expeditions about the country and to the coast before the young chief
had added sufficient to his savings to pay the marriage money and meet
the expenses of the wedding.
A few months passed, and Satu received word that the young chief had
gathered the cloth and other articles; and requesting him to come and
inspect them. This Satu did, and being satisfied with the quality of the
cloth and the size of the pig, he arranged to return for the goods on a
certain day and to bring the girl’s father[54] to be introduced to him.
Footnote 54:
See note 43, p. 354.
The day arrived, and with it Satu and the girl’s father, accompanied by
a man carrying their calabashes of palm-wine. The young man called some
of his friends to help him drink the wine, and to act as witnesses. The
uncle’s wine was drunk first, as he is always of more importance in
these marriage transactions than the father, mother, or even the girl
herself. After the uncle’s calabash was finished the father’s wine was
drunk. The “money” was then counted, and the two blankets and one or two
pieces of cloth were given to the father, but the rest was claimed[55]
by the uncle.
Footnote 55:
See note 44, p. 355.
Up to the present neither the girl nor her mother are supposed to have
been consulted; but he would be indeed a foolish swain who went far in
the “palaver” without knowing something of the girl’s feelings towards
him, or sending presents to the girl’s mother.
This young man was well acquainted with the girl’s favourable regard for
him, for had she not received little presents[56] from him? He knew,
too, that his future mother-in-law was on his side, for he had acted
generously towards her; hence, when questioned on the matter, she
readily agreed[57] that the marriage could take place at once.
Footnote 56:
See note 45, p. 355.
Footnote 57:
See note 46, p. 356.
The young chief had seven wives already, consequently he was well versed
in the rites and ceremonies of marriage. At these affairs there is
generally a pretence at carrying off the bride; hence on the wedding-day
the bridegroom, accompanied by many friends, went to the bride’s town,
and as they drew near they beat their drums, shouted loudly, fired guns,
and made as much noise as possible, as though they were attacking the
town. There was a sham struggle, and at last the girl was carried off.
This great ado was regarded as an honour to the girl, and a proof of the
bridegroom’s position.
On returning to his own village the bridegroom told his friends to bring
the drums and plenty of palm-wine, and on that and the succeeding three
days goats and pigs were killed and eaten, palm-wine was drunk, and guns
fired. The bride went without food the day before the wedding, and as a
new wife she was not allowed to eat in sight of her husband for three
months.
When the crowd had gone the elders met and gave the girl into the hands
of the young chief, and they taught them both in the presence of
witnesses. To the young woman they said: “You are to respect your
husband and his family; and you are to behave yourself properly in your
house. You have never had thieving or witchcraft palavers in the past;
continue without them, and conduct yourselves properly towards each
other.”
To the young man they said: “You are to respect your wife and her
family; you must not speak harshly to her, nor treat her as a slave, nor
stamp on her things, nor tread her beneath your feet.”
Then the young man went to one of the witnesses, and taking him by the
wrist, rubbed a bullet on the palm of the witness’s hand, and said: “I
have heard all the words spoken, and if I destroy the marriage may I die
by this bullet.”
The young woman then stepped forward and shyly took the same oath. This
ceremony completed, the witnesses went into Sono’s house and arranged
the hearthstones, and instructed the bride in the duties of a wife.
The young chief, in anticipation of his marriage, had built a house for
his new wife, because every wife had her own house in which to live and
be mistress. The Congo man is too ’cute to put two women in one house;
perhaps he has learned by bitter experience the unwisdom of it, and no
matter how many wives he may be fortunate enough to marry, he builds a
house for each, and one for himself.
Sono, coming as she did from a town which was half a day’s journey from
her new home, had no farm from which she could draw her supplies of food
for herself and husband, in supporting whom she had now to take an
eighth share. So a few days after the marriage she went with the other
women, her fellow-wives, and they helped her to clear a patch of ground,
hoe it, and plant it with seasonable seeds and roots. In return for
their kindness she assisted them in weeding their farms.
It was the custom for the bridegroom to supply his bride with all the
necessary food until her farm was matured and yielding; and from that
time to give her meat and fish as frequently as possible, while she
found her own vegetable food and a share of his. It was also the man’s
duty to present each of his wives with at least one good cloth every
year, and more if he were a wealthy man.
Sono settled down fairly comfortably with her husband and seven
fellow-wives. She had her farm to cultivate, a house of her own, an
occasional bit of meat or fish sent her from her husband; what more
could she want?
One morning our town was aroused by the firing of guns and shouts of
_Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!)
Bakula ran out of the house and joined most vigorously in the shouting.
We saw a man covered with perspiration and panting with running. He
hurried by to the chief’s _lumbu_ or enclosure, and fell at the feet of
Satu, where he paid most humble homage, covering his face with dirt.
As soon as he gained his breath he said: “I have been badly treated by
my master Dimbula, who frequently beat me severely with his whip. See,
here are the marks!” and he showed some deep wales across his back, legs
and chest. “He not only thrashed me,” he continued, “but he robbed me of
the small earnings to which by right of custom I am entitled. I have
therefore run away from him to you. Will you accept of me?” and he
looked beseechingly at Satu, for now his very life depended on the
answer. If Satu refused him, and handed him back to Dimbula as a runaway
slave, it was most probable that his master, in his rage and shame,
would kill him.
Satu considered the matter, and at last, to the relief of the poor
wretch, called for a piece of goat’s flesh, and giving half to the
slave, ate the other half himself.
The crowd that had gathered, directly they saw the piece of goat’s meat
eaten, shouted: _Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!) and fired off a salvo
with their guns.
The slave was practically now a free man. The piece of goat eaten by
Satu was a pledge that he would protect the man who had eaten with him
from ever falling again into the hands of his old master, even though he
had to use the last brass rod, or shed the last drop of blood he
possessed, in so doing. And the slave, by the eating of his piece of
goat, was bound, as long as life lasted, to Satu as _a free man_.
On the next market day Satu took the whilom slave and showed him on the
market as one who had “eaten his goat,” and was now no longer a slave.
Dimbula was present, and was chagrined to witness the whole affair; but
he was compelled by custom to accept from Satu the merely nominal price
of a slave. In selling a slave ordinarily the seller gets as much as he
can, and generally makes a good profit on the exchange; but in a
transaction of this kind he must take what is offered as the equivalent
of a slave, and be satisfied.
Dimbula was a man of ungovernable passions, and it was not the first
time that his slaves had escaped from his cruelty by “eating goat” with
neighbouring chiefs; while, on the other hand, no slaves had ever run to
him for protection or to “eat goat” with him. His fierce, hasty temper
was well known and feared.
Slaves free in this way take the name of _Nkombo_, or Goat; and these
“goats” are very highly prized by chiefs, as they become very faithful
followers of those with whom they have “eaten the goat.”