Hunting and Bush-burning
Manner of bush-burning--Witch-doctor makes a hunting-charm--Ceremony is
carefully performed--Blazing bush and rushing animals--Satu arranges
with another chief to burn the bush--Dimbula breaks the law and
insults Satu--War is declared--Old Plaited-Beard being unsuccessful
accuses Bakula of bewitching him--He tries to restore his luck.
As the hunting season was drawing near, Satu and his people decided to
engage a _ngang’ a nkongo_, or the “medicine man” of the hunting fetish,
to make for them a powerful charm that would endow them with good luck
in all kinds of hunting. The time for bush-burning had arrived, when the
tall grass in their district would be thoroughly dry by reason of the
long drought, and would burn like prepared tinder. It is during the bush
fires and the two succeeding months that systematic hunts are organized.
It was therefore needful to prepare the charm as quickly as possible.
The first thing that Satu and his people had to do was to burn carefully
a belt of grass, a hundred yards wide, right round their town, lest the
great, uncontrollable bush fires should come roaring up before the wind,
and reducing their dwellings to ashes, destroy also their treasures and
savings at the same time. For the purpose of burning this belt a damp
morning, heavy with dew, was chosen; then the men and women went with
sticks and knives, and cut or pushed down the grass all round the
town--when the stems of grass are damp they are very pliable and are
easily pressed down and will remain down as they dry in the morning sun.
The bush grass is anything from six feet to fifteen feet high, with
stems as thick as a person’s fingers. When they are burning the steam
generated in the stems causes them to explode with loud, gun-like
reports, and the force of the explosions sends the burning grass
hurtling through the air like rockets; hence Satu’s people took care to
push down the grass so that the stalks pointed away from the houses.
After pressing down the grass round the town the wind was watched, and
when it was favourable the broken-down grass was burnt. The men and
lads, armed with branches, controlled and directed the flames; Bakula
and the other lads just delighted in this bush-burning season, and
looked forward to it with eager anticipation of the sport they would
enjoy and the game they would secure. In dreams and talk they killed
many an animal long before the first grass was fired.
Satu sent Bakula and two other lads to call the _nganga_, who made the
hunting charms. On reaching his town they found him engaged in
refreshing and reinvigorating his fetish. He took a large fowl at
sunset, and, turning his face towards the setting sun, cut the throat of
the fowl and let the running blood fall on the fetish, covering it with
the life-blood of the sacrifice. This renewed the strength of the
fetish, and, refreshing it, enabled it to impart power to various
charms.
He then stood his fetish on the ground and surrounded it with several
small heaps of gunpowder--laying a train from one heap to another. When
all was ready he exploded the powder, and blew vigorously on his
whistle--this aroused the fetish, made it alert and active in performing
its work. The _nganga_ had the fowl cooked, and ate the whole of it
himself, for to sell it or to share it with another would nullify its
effect on the fetish as a sacrifice.
Bakula and his companions stood on one side keenly interested in these
ceremonies, for was not their future success in hunting dependent in
some way on these mysterious rites? Bakula, however, since his close
intercourse with the white man, had begun to doubt the pretended powers
of these _ngangas_, so turning to his fellow-messengers he asked: “How
can that wooden image, that has to be refreshed with fowl’s blood and
aroused with explosions of gunpowder, cause us to shoot straight in our
bush lands? And again, how can it make the antelopes and bush pigs come
our way, instead of going off in another direction?”
He then told the lads what he had seen in the King’s town respecting the
_nganga_ with his charm of feathers, and the iron prong hidden in them.
And he concluded by saying: “I begin to think they trick us, take our
money and laugh at us.” The lads could not reply to Bakula’s reasoning,
but they had no doubt that the _nganga_ possessed powerful “medicines,”
and could do anything he liked; and they told Bakula in a friendly way
not to let Old Plaited-Beard hear him talk in this manner, or he would
quickly accuse him of witchcraft.
Early next morning they returned with the “medicine man” to their town;
and immediately on arrival the _nganga_ set to work to make the
necessary charms. It was a busy time with him, and he would not have
come so promptly, but Satu was a great noble and could pay well. The
_nganga_ procured some red camwood powder, some leaves of the
_lupemba-mpemba_-tree, some young spikes of new _nianga_ grass, some
parrot feathers, cowry shells, wood ashes, a fore-leg of a bat, some
small shot, and some native _peppers_. These he thoroughly cut up and
well mixed, and each hunter filled his small horn with the mixture, and
sealed the opening with a little rubber. He then received his fee and
went.
The hunters being now in possession of their charms, went to visit the
grave of a renowned hunter who had died some years previously. It was
the custom that when a great hunter was dying he should draw a thread
from his _mbadi_[58] cloth, and tie it round the forehead or arms of a
young man chosen for the purpose. This person then became the
_Kimpovela_, or the one who speaks on behalf of others, _i. e._ an
advocate; and this advocate was not allowed to marry more than one wife,
and he must never beat her or he would lose his power as an advocate.
Only the man thus selected by the dying hunter could perform the
ceremonies at this grave. When the great hunter died, his hair was cut
off and buried beneath a large stone near his place of burial, that the
natives of the district might always know where the grave was situated.
Satu and his party took with them a calabash of palm-wine and, calling
the _Kimpovela_, passed on to the grave of the renowned hunter. The
Footnote 58:
Cloth made from pine-apple or palm fibre.
advocate went first and kneeled with his back to the grave and his face
towards the hunters, who approached him slowly, stopping every few steps
to clap their hands. When they reached the kneeling man they spread out
and sat round the grave, putting the wine and their guns on the ground
near by. The _Kimpovela_ then turned towards the grave, and shaking his
rattle repeatedly, he thus prayed to the deceased hunter: “You are
blind, but your ears are not deaf. Oh, ears, hear well! we have come to
you, we come kneeling. When you lived in the town you ate and you drank,
now we who are left die of hunger; give us male and female animals.”
When this prayer was finished a man put the calabash of wine on his
shoulder, and the _Kimpovela_, making the sign of the cross,[59] took a
cup of the wine and poured it as an offering on the grave of the great
hunter. The rest of the wine was drunk by the hunters sitting around the
grave.
Footnote 59:
See note 47, p. 356.
After drinking the wine the _Kimpovela_ rubbed a little of the earth wet
with the oblatory wine on the forehead, temples, fore-arms, wrists,
knees and insteps of each hunter; then he took each gun and drew his
fingers up the butt, and reaching the barrel he snapped his fingers and
handed the gun to its owner, who on taking it clapped his hands, sprang
in the air, and holding the gun in front of him walked backwards a
little way, facing the grave, and sat down to wait for the others. When
all had finished they fired a salute and sang a song in praise of the
great hunter to the rubbing, grating noise of the antelope drum. More
palm-wine was drunk, and I am sure that by the time they had exhausted
their wine, if they had seen an antelope not one of them was sober
enough to have fired straight at it.
After these ceremonies were concluded whenever Satu and his people went
hunting they either took their horns of medicine with them, each
carrying his own under his belt, or they wetted the rubber stopper and
rubbed the butt of their guns with a little of the moisture. This gave
them accuracy of aim, or they thought so. By burning the belt of grass
round their town they had secured their houses against fire, and by
their charms and the visit to the grave of the renowned hunter they had
ensured their future success as sportsmen; they were now consequently
able to turn their attention to those parts of the bush where
animals--antelopes, wild pigs and gazelles--were likely to be found.
A breezy day was chosen, and the hunters, taking their places along the
portion of bush to be burned, fired the grass as soon as the night dews
were dried off. Animals browsing were startled by the roar of flames,
rushed bewildered before the oncoming fire, and as they ran past were
shot at by the waiting hunters. While the fire was burning hawks and
fish-eagles circled above the burning bush, not “to drink in the smoke,”
as the natives say, but in search of any hapless rats and snakes cut off
from escape by the raging fire. These birds could be seen swooping down
and carrying off to their lairs such reptiles and rats as their keen,
hungry eyes detected.
These bush fires have taken place annually for generations, and
undoubtedly account for the scarcity of wild game on the Lower Congo,
the absence of large reptiles, the shabby appearance of the trees on the
open veldt--they scarcely recover from one scorching before the dries
are on them and another scorching is due--and the luxuriant grass, for
the burnt remains of one crop enrich the soil to bear another as
stalwart as the first.
During this season it is very weird to see, night after night, great
bush fires blazing in different directions. The sky is aglow with them,
and you smell and breathe a smoky atmosphere for days. Bits of charred
grass are carried by the winds in all directions, and the country looks
dressed in black as though it were mourning with a great sorrow, and the
sun, as though in sympathy with the earth, hides for days behind the
clouds of ascended smoke.
During the hunts men are often wounded, and sometimes killed, by being
mistaken for animals as they push through the rustling grass. Then
follow recriminations, charges of intent to murder, and long law-suits
that ruin the unfortunate family of the man who did not stop to look
before he fired his gun. Sometimes, when a line of men is crawling
through the grass tracking an animal, the trigger of a gun will catch in
the stalks, the gun will explode, there will be a scream of a man in the
agony of death, and the scared owner of the gun will be charged with
murder, for there are no accidents in native law.
The culprit will be fortunate if the deceased is a member of a poor
family, or a slave, for then he will get off with a heavy fine; but if
the dead man is a person of importance his life will be forfeited, or he
will be sold far away into slavery. He will be lucky if he is not
shipped to St. Thomé or to Principe to work on the plantations.
During the bush-burning Satu and his men killed only three wild pigs and
four gazelles; but they had a very serious quarrel with a neighbouring
chief that developed into a war after the hunting season was over.
[Illustration: NATIVE ROPE BRIDGE.]
[Illustration: NATIVE BRIDGE.]
A part of Satu’s land ran by the side of ground belonging to a
neighbouring chief named Dimbula; and according to custom Satu sent to
Dimbula asking what day would be convenient for burning that part of the
bush where their properties joined each other. After much palavering the
day was fixed; but when Satu and his hunters reached the spot they found
none of Dimbula’s people there.
It was against the law of custom for either party to fire the grass
before the arrival of the other side; consequently Satu and his men sat
waiting all through the long morning, and about noon they decided to
return home--vexed with having wasted a whole morning. They had not gone
very far when they heard shouts, and looking round saw the bush blazing.
On hurrying back to the place they had so recently left, they found
Dimbula and his men there.
Satu said: “We arrived here early this morning according to agreement,
and we waited until midday, but as you and your people did not come, we
did not burn the grass, and were just returning home intending to make a
new appointment with you. Why have you broken the custom by firing the
grass in our absence?”
“You think that because you are _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_ that you can do
and say what you like,” replied Dimbula, with ill-suppressed anger and
bad logic.
“No,” retorted Satu, “that is not so, or I would have lighted the bush
early this morning, and not have sat here half the day waiting for you.”
“Let me tell you,” shouted Dimbula, “that my family had the title when
your family was too poor to assume it, and was glad to sell the use of
it.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Satu, “but that is no reason why you should
burn the grass by yourself when you know my land runs by the side of
yours.”
“You think that because you drove a white man out of your town and
retained my runaway slave, that you can lord it over us,” said Dimbula,
who by now was choking with unreasonable rage. In fact, we heard
afterwards that Dimbula had planned the whole affair as an insult to
Satu, of whom he was jealous, both as a rich man and as a noble of rank;
and he also felt hurt because Satu had kept the “goat” that ran to him
for protection.
Satu put down his gun, and with calmness and dignity went up to Dimbula
and said: “I drove the white man away because I did not know him, and I
accepted your slave according to native custom; but they are no excuses
for insulting me. Listen, I swear by my mother,[60] that if you do not
apologize and pay homage to me by the end of the hunting season I will
fight you”; and turning his back on Dimbula he picked up his gun and
walked away.
Footnote 60:
See note 48, p. 356.
Just as Satu’s party reached the brow of the next hill, Dimbula sprang
forward and shouted in contemptuous and boastful derision: “O mighty
chief Satu, can I lend you twenty kegs of powder for the coming fight?”
The town was all excitement when they heard of the insults that had been
heaped on their chief, and many of the more fiery ones wished to begin
the fight at once; but Satu would not give his consent, and told them to
wait until the hunting was finished.
A few weeks after the fires were over a fine grass covered the
hill-sides and plateaus with such delicious fresh verdure that the
antelopes and gazelles were enticed from the forests where they had fled
from the devouring flames, to browse on it, and so delighted were they
with the new sweet crop that they forgot all dangers, and were easily
surrounded by hunters and shot down.
In these hunts native dogs were used, and a “medicine man” was usually
called to endow them with good tracking powers. The _nganga_ took some
chalk, some different leaves and the head of a viper. These he mixed
thoroughly together and made into a bundle. He then took a small portion
of the bundle and put it in a funnel-twisted leaf, caught a wasp and
pressed its juice into the funnel, put in a little palm-wine, and
squeezed the juice of this mixture into each dog’s nose. They then
became good trackers and hunters. The chalk gave them wisdom, the leaves
gave good health, the portion of viper imparted stealthiness, and just
as a wasp makes straight for its nest, so the dogs would make straight
for the game.
Some of Satu’s people went one day with their dogs to hunt, and had been
gone most of the day when an antelope was seen by Bakula on the side of
a distant hill. They instantly spread, worked to leeward and gradually
bore down on the unsuspecting creature. The nearest man fired[61] and
the poor animal fell mortally wounded. Directly it fell some grass was
cut and spread out, and the antelope was laid on it.
Footnote 61:
See note 49, p. 357.
The hunter who killed it put the butt of his gun to his shoulder and the
muzzle on the carcass. A cross cut was made on the stomach, and the
hunter put his fingers three times to the cut and to his upper lip, then
again three times to the cut, and rubbed his fingers each time on his
gun. The antelope was then removed, and the hunter put the muzzle of his
gun under the grass and turned it over. The animal could not be cut up
until this ceremony was performed, or the hunter would have lost his
“hunting skill,” and, besides, it established beyond a doubt the
ownership of the antelope.
The flesh of the animals killed in the hunts is always divided,
according to certain well-recognized rules: the kidneys and strips of
meat from the back were sent to Satu as chief of the town; one hind-leg
was given to the men who were left in the town, and they shared it with
their wives; one fore-quarter was given to the hunters, the heart was
given to the father of the successful hunter, certain portions were sent
to his mother and aunt, and the rest belonged to the man who killed it.
When the antelope was being divided, the bladder was emptied and filled
with blood, and in a day or two it was carried to the _Kimpovela_, or
advocate, in charge of the renowned hunter’s grave. The _Kimpovela_
brought from his house a small wooden cross and fixed it in the grave.
He then put the successful bullet in the prepared hole in the cross and
poured the blood over the cross and the grave as an offering, saying as
he did so: “We thank you for sending us such a fine animal, and hope you
will repeat the favour.” Only the blood of antelopes is given in this
way. Some of the blood was rubbed on their fetish charms, and the end of
the antelope’s tail was stuck in the wall over the doorway of the
successful hunter.
During the hunting season Old Plaited-Beard was unsuccessful in his
hunting--not a single animal fell to his gun, although he had several
fine opportunities. He was exasperated at his failure, and looked around
for the reason why his charms were ineffective. He now recalled to mind
what the boys who accompanied Bakula told him on their return about
their companion’s disparaging remarks concerning the “medicine man,” his
fetish, and his trickery. He also remembered his admiration for the
white man, and the attempts he made to bring about a meeting between
them. Putting all these things together, he came to the conclusion that
Bakula had bewitched him and his charms, and that consequently he was
unable to kill any game.
Old Plaited-Beard sent for Bakula and accused him of destroying the
power in his charms; and when the lad strenuously denied the accusation,
he told him what he had sneeringly said in the _nganga’s_ town about
“medicine men” and their tricks; of his companionship with the white man
in the King’s town; and how he who used to wear so many charms had
thrown nearly all of them away. It seemed a very black indictment.
Bakula admitted that he had lost faith in _ngangas_, and told with
dramatic force of the _nganga’s_ exposed trickery in the King’s town; he
did not deny his liking for the white man, for had he not shown kindness
to him in forgiving him and healing his wound? He assented to the charge
of throwing his charms away, for he could not see that the messes the
witch-doctors put into horns and shells could help them in sickness,
hunting, trading, or anything else.
“Besides,” he said, "if I had power to affect the charms made by the
‘medicine man’ for the town, how is it our people have killed pigs,
gazelles and an antelope?"
“You let them shoot the animals, and took the spirit from my charms, so
that I could not kill any,” unreasonably argued the superstitious old
man.
“I am sorry no game fell to your gun,” soothingly replied the lad, “but
it was through no fault of mine.”
Old Plaited-Beard looked at the apologetic lad suspiciously, and he
thought that his very conciliatory attitude was a sign of his guilt. He
would have understood him better if the spirited boy had burst into
loud, angry abuse, recriminations and counter-charges. However, he only
said: "Don’t do it again. Leave my charms alone and do not laugh at
‘medicine men’ and their fetishes, for you have put me to the expense of
engaging a _nganga_ to renew the power in my hunting charm."
Old Plaited-Beard went next day to the _nganga nkongo_, who made three
plaits of nine pieces of grass in each plait. He then asked for a piece
of the last bird or animal his client had killed. The old man took from
his shoulder-bag the tail of a gazelle that he had brought for the
purpose and handed it over to the “medicine man.”
A hunter always saves a feather or a claw of the last bird he killed, or
the tail or hoof of the last animal he shot, and that is why all these
odds and ends are stuck in the front walls of the houses. At any time he
may repeatedly miss, and may require a piece of the last thing he killed
to restore his luck. The _nganga_ took the gazelle’s tail from Old
Plaited-Beard and put it on the ground; he then made three little heaps
of loose gunpowder round it, and chalked a cross near the powder, and on
the butt of the hunter’s gun. The _nganga_ exploded the powder; a little
gunpowder was then put in the gun, and the hunter, standing a few feet
away, fired at the gazelle’s tail, and blew it from the spot on which it
was resting, thus proving that his hunting skill had returned to him. If
the tail had not been blown out of its position the “medicine man” would
have repeated his ceremonies.
After the old man had knocked the tail away, the _nganga_ took the gun
from him, and put his finger in the dirt where the tail had been, and
rubbed a little of the earth three times on the hunter’s upper lip; the
fourth time he put his fingers on the butt of the gun, and ran them up
the barrel and snapped them in the air. He then loosened the plaits, and
shook the grass about the gun. Old Plaited-Beard stepped forward,
solemnly clapped his hands, took his gun, sprang into the air, and
returned home satisfied that in future he would be more successful. He
had never been a good shot, and this season he failed utterly, and put
all the blame on Bakula, on whom he determined to avenge himself on the
first good opportunity.