The Heart of the Dark Continent
Watchman, what of the night?
The Watchman said, The morning cometh.
ISAIAH.
The night is far spent and the day is at hand.
ST. PAUL.
After four and a-half months spent in South Africa, where the Native
Church has been planted for a century, I proceeded north to Central
Africa, where missionary work is in its early stages and the Native
Church in its infancy. Leaving Tiger Kloof towards the end of March,
I travelled by the Cape-to-Cairo Railway through the Protectorate and
Southern Rhodesia, and was joined by the other member of the Central
African Deputation, Mr. Houghton, at the Victoria Falls. The Railway
took us to Ndola, 1,373 miles north of Tiger Kloof. There we were met
by Mr. Nutter, of Mbereshi, in our Central Africa Mission, and over 100
native carriers who were to be our companions for many a day to come.
Before attempting any description of travel in Central Africa it will
be well to say something about the country itself.
[Illustration: MAP OF CENTRAL AFRICA, SHOWING L. M. S. MISSION STATIONS.
(Kambole should be west, and not south of Kafukula).]
As late as the middle of last century maps of Africa described the
central regions of the Dark Continent as unexplored. The labours
of Livingstone, his contemporaries and successors have revealed to
the peoples of the West a vast area as extensive as Europe which is
somewhat vaguely described as Central Africa. Towards the end of
the century this great expanse of country had been parcelled out
amongst the great Powers of Europe. Internal peace has taken the
place of tribal warfare, and the land has been thrown open to Western
colonization. Foremost amongst the pioneers of civilization has been
the Christian Missionary, and one of the earliest Societies to enter
the field was our own. A remarkable and immediate result of the
travels of Livingstone was the occupation of Central Africa by some
of the missionary organizations of Britain. The work commenced by our
own Society, the Church Missionary Society, the Universities’ Mission
and the Presbyterian Missions was due directly or indirectly to the
influence of that great Missionary explorer--David Livingstone.
Central Africa exercises a singular fascination on those who visit it.
Its great lakes, its mighty rivers, its boundless forests, its glorious
sunshine, the black races which inhabit it, all combine to make travel
in that region a unique and delightful experience. In our case that
travel was made the more pleasant by the company of one and another of
our missionaries on our journeys, and the great privilege we enjoyed
of fellowship with them and their families in their homes, and the
opportunities afforded us of seeing something of the work which they
are carrying on amongst the people of the land.
One of the first impressions a traveller receives is that of the
vastness of the territory and the comparative sparseness of the
population. These facts, together with the want of facilities for rapid
travel, constitute serious difficulties in carrying on missionary work.
My colleague and I were the first Deputation from the Society to
visit Central Africa. As long ago as 1879 the Directors accepted an
offer from the Society’s Foreign Secretary, Dr. Mullens, to visit the
Mission. He proceeded to Zanzibar and started on his journey to Lake
Tanganyika, but died at Chakombe in July of that year and was buried
in the C. M. S. cemetery at Mpwapwa, between Tabora and Dar-es-Salaam.
Since that day conditions of travel and of life in Northern Rhodesia
(which is the part of Central Africa in which the L. M. S. carries on
nearly all its work) have completely changed. No more striking evidence
of the change can be afforded than a comparison between the experiences
of the early missionaries and of their successors, twenty-five years
later. The average term of service for the first ten missionaries
who served in Central Africa was well under three years. The ten
missionaries at present on the field have already to their credit an
average term of service of thirteen years, and the majority of them are
still under forty years of age. Moreover, in the first ten years of the
Mission eleven missionaries died on the field, and six were invalided
home, and (with one exception) did not return. During the last ten
years not a single missionary has died on the field, and no missionary
has retired on account of ill-health.
It was our good fortune to visit Central Africa during its winter, and
our experience of the climate was altogether delightful. Even during
the hot season the heat is not so extreme as might be expected from
the geographical position of the country. At the Society’s stations
the thermometer seldom, if ever, reaches 100° Fahrenheit during the
hottest season--a point often exceeded further south. Nevertheless,
Central Africa is still a trying place for many people. The liability
to malarial fever, dysentery, and cognate diseases is considerable.
Nor must it be forgotten that all our stations are necessarily at a
high altitude above sea level. The lowest of them--Kafukula--is nearly
as high as the top of Snowdon, while all the remaining stations are
between 4,700 and 5,600 feet up, except Mbereshi, the altitude of which
is 3,900 feet. Life at this altitude is often trying to the nerves and
heart, and the strain is all the more severe owing to the impossibility
of securing a substantial change of altitude without great expenditure
of time and money. The distance to the coast is so great, the travel
is so trying, and the cost is so heavy that it is practically
impossible for our missionaries and their families to obtain a complete
change--either as a mid-term furlough or otherwise.
Perhaps the best indication of the changed conditions of life and the
improved health of the Mission in these later days is afforded by the
splendid health enjoyed by the missionaries’ children. The picture
facing this page speaks for itself.
But there is an aspect of life in Central Africa which must not be
over-looked, namely its isolation. At only one of our stations is
any other white man in residence. There are less than a dozen white
people--officials and a trader--at Kawambwa, the Government station
twenty miles from Mbereshi, and about a dozen at Abercorn--the
Metropolis, as it is called, of the white people in the Society’s
area--ten miles from Kawimbe.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_Bernard Turner._
Hilda. Gay. Kenneth. Ethel. Dennis. Sylvia. Hope. Monica. Marjorie.
Franklin.
HEALTHY MISSIONARY CHILDREN IN CENTRAL AFRICA.]
The exercise of a little imagination will enable the reader to realise
something of the loneliness of men and women living in a country
where there are so few people of their own race. Moreover, the Mission
stations are widely separated from each other. Mbereshi is five days’
journey from Mpolokoso, eight days’ journey from Kambole, nine and
a-half days’ journey from Kafukula, and eleven days’ journey from
Kawimbe.
For the greater part of the three months following our departure from
the railway at Ndola we lived in tents, and travelled through the
great Central African forest, which in fact extended nearly all the
way from Bulawayo, the capital of Southern Rhodesia, to Dar-es-Salaam,
the capital of German East Africa, situated on the east coast of
the Continent, 80 miles south of Zanzibar. Almost the whole of this
country is a plateau from 4,000 to 6,000 feet above the level of the
sea. The southern part of this forest is traversed by the Zambesi,
and the western portion is bounded by the Congo, there known as the
Luapula, while situated on the table-land there are the great lakes of
Bangweolo, Mweru and Tanganyika, the two last of which we visited. In
travelling through the forest one day’s journey is very like another,
although each day abounds with a variety of incidents and new sights
and new experiences for one who visits the country for the first time.
A general description of the means and conditions of travel will
suffice.
We were almost wholly dependent upon native carriers. With the
exception of bicycles and single-wheeled bush-cars there is no wheeled
traffic in Northern Rhodesia. There are practically no roads in our
meaning of that term. The travel-routes are native paths--often very
narrow and overgrown. In the long grass, which is a remarkable feature
of the country, the path often cannot be seen, but can only be felt by
the feet. There are no inns or rest-houses. Tents, bedding, cooking
utensils, food, etc., must all be carried everywhere. The minimum
number of carriers required by one person on a short journey is about
twelve if a bicycle is used, or eighteen to twenty if a machila is the
means of conveyance. A machila is a chair slung between two poles and
carried by four men. For longer journeys extra men are needed to carry
supplies, or in case of sickness among the carriers. Should native food
not be easily obtained--as at certain seasons is the case everywhere,
and along many of the main travel-routes, more or less constantly all
the year round--five more men are needed for each week that food has
to be carried. Carriers cost about 1s. 6d. per man per week away from
their homes. The general practice is to pay 1s. a week in cash on
discharge, and the balance in calico, cash, salt or food, weekly in
advance. The speed of travel is, of course, dependent on the ability
of the carriers, and the nature of the country traversed, but it may
be taken as about seventeen or eighteen miles a day, or three miles
an hour, including rests. Sometimes over thirty miles is accomplished
with loads, or even more with a letter only. Our average day’s travel
from Ndola to Mbereshi was just under twenty miles, but on two days we
covered over thirty miles.
Our experience of Central African travel was a delightful one. We left
the rail a week or two before the rainy season comes to an end in most
years, and we had been warned that we should probably meet with a good
deal of rain on our way to Mbereshi. We only had two or three showers
the whole way, and with one trifling exception all these fell after we
were in camp. We tasted some of the joys of crossing Central African
swamps, but with the kindly assistance of our carriers, whose backs and
shoulders were always at our service, we were none the worse. Numerous
rivers and streams were crossed in dug-out canoes, on men’s backs and
shoulders, and by means of tree trunks, stones, or bridges made of the
branches of trees. The Luapula (Congo) was crossed in a steel boat.
On the recommendation of the missionaries on the spot we had provided
ourselves with bush-cars as our means of conveyance after leaving the
railway. A bush-car is a seat fixed over a motor-cycle wheel with
steel tube shafts back and front. It is propelled by two men, whereas
a machila requires four men, and thus a bush-car halves the cost of
carriers. Moreover, it is a much quicker means of conveyance than a
machila. The experiment was entirely justified. Some days we were
enabled to travel upwards of thirty miles without undue fatigue.
It may be of interest to describe shortly a typical day’s programme on
“ulendo”--as travel with carriers is universally called in Northern
Rhodesia. We rose at six. Before we had finished dressing a number
of carriers would be besieging our tents to snatch up our boxes and
other luggage in order to make an early start. Within a few minutes
of vacating our tents they would be taken down and made into suitable
loads and our beds and bedding would be packed and carried away. We
breakfasted in the open air about 6.45, and generally by 7.15 or 7.30
we were under way. It was our custom to walk for the first hour or
two in spite of the heavy dew, which during the first part of our
trip covered the giant grass and the trees until the sun was well up.
Fortunately for us the cavalcade of carriers who had gone on ahead
acted as “dew-driers” by brushing the water off the grass as they
passed along.
For the most part our journey lay through forest and bush and tall
grass, along native paths or roads three or four feet wide, which
had been made under the direction of the Government, but were often
overgrown with grass and shrubs except for a narrow track a foot or
eighteen inches in width, which had been kept clear by the constant
passing of natives along it. The greater part of our travel was over
the plateau, on which the paths were fairly level except at the
depressions caused by the numerous streams which drain it. From time
to time, however, there were steep, rocky hills to be surmounted, and
there were occasional swamps. It was not often possible to ride more
than a few miles in the bush-car without alighting and walking for some
distance. A very uncomfortable experience is to travel by bush-car or
on a bicycle along a path over which elephants have passed a short time
before. The sensation of bumping over footprints fifteen inches across
and three or more inches deep, and occupying the whole width of the
path, can be better imagined than described.
We generally took luncheon between twelve and one, at a place where
water was to be found, either in a native village or in the forest. We
often found the table spread and the meal awaiting us, but sometimes we
had to wait long for it if our luncheon box happened to be far behind
us on the road. Then came two or three hours’ further travel before we
finished our journey for the day. Then came a cup of tea, and as soon
as the tents were pitched a bath and change of clothing. We dined about
sunset. Then followed what was to us the most delightful of the day’s
experiences. The rule on “ulendo” is for every man, when he collects
the firewood for his own watch fire, to bring a log for the white
man’s fire. Night after night we had magnificent camp-fires. Often the
missionary accompanying us would gather the men together for a service
round the fire, and sometimes the villagers also came. Those camp-fire
services will long live in my memory. The men would sit round the fire,
most of them naked to the waist, with their faces lit up by the fitful
flames or the light of the moon. They would listen with rapt attention
to the reading of the Scriptures or the words of the missionary, or
would join in prayer, often led by one of themselves, with the utmost
devoutness. But the most impressive part to us of these services was
the hearty and reverent singing of the hymns in the native language to
tunes well-known at home. These people have wonderful verbal memories.
Hymn books seemed quite superfluous. Many of them knew by heart most
of the hymns in their collection, and it was quite evident that they
much enjoyed singing them. After the men had dispersed to their own
camp-fires came an hour or two’s talk round our fire before we sought
the shelter of our tents and our mosquito nets. It was our practice
to join in English evening prayers immediately after dinner. But
often long before we had left our chairs round the fire our native
servants, and oft-times many of the carriers, would spread their mats,
or, failing mats, lay some grass on the ground, as near the fire as
possible, with their bare feet towards it, and wrap themselves in
blanket or cloth and go to sleep under the stars, grateful for the
genial warmth of the fire in the cold night of a Central African
winter, and for the protection it afforded them against the beasts of
prey who were often prowling near at hand.
Thus we travelled through Northern Rhodesia, visiting the stations of
our Central Africa Mission, calling upon the European Magistrates and
Native Commissioners, meeting Native Head-men and Chiefs, and passing
through numbers of small native villages, at all of which we received
a hearty welcome. When we entered a village, or met native carriers
on the path through the forest, we were greeted with the salutation
“Mutende,” which, being interpreted, means “Peace.” The carriers would
take their loads off their heads or shoulders, squat down on their
haunches, clap their hands and give us their salutation. On leaving
a village we were often accompanied for a mile or two by a running
crowd of natives, consisting for the most part of women with babies
tied upon their backs and laughing children, who would shout and sing
as they ran behind and before the bush-cars or bicycle. We soon got
accustomed to the sight of these natives, nearly all of them naked to
the waist, and many of the children altogether naked. Most of those
whom we saw were smiling, happy-looking people, but that there was
another side to the picture was often painfully apparent. In many
villages the faces of nearly all the adults were marked with small-pox.
We frequently met cripples and lepers. Sore eyes, caused by the smoke
of the wood fires in the huts, for which there is no escape but the
door, were much in evidence, and we heard sad stories of the high rate
of mortality amongst these children of nature. Certain forms of disease
were very prevalent, and laid a heavy toll upon the people. Signs of
the superstition which shadowed their lives, and which is the main
feature of their animistic religions, were abundant. In many a village
the rude “spirit-hut,” with offerings of food spread in front of it was
to be seen, and we heard many sad stories of the influence wielded by
sorcerer and witch-doctor upon the lives of the people.
Everywhere we experienced the good-will and hospitality of the
inhabitants. On arrival at our camping places a dozen women would
appear with brooms made of the twigs of the trees and brushes to sweep
the site of the camp clean before the tents were pitched. Others would
hasten off to the nearest watering-place to get a supply of water in
very large rough clay vessels for ourselves and our men. We often
pitched our camp in the middle of a village, and on these occasions
many of our men slept in the huts of the villagers which had been
willingly vacated to afford this accommodation. Mealies, manioc, and
native flour would be purchased by the missionary in charge of the
expedition for the men, and fowls and eggs for our own larder. Portions
of Scripture and hymn books would be sold by the missionary, and there
were many applications for them. Wherever we went the people were
always most grateful for any recognition of their efforts to show us
hospitality. Their desire for books for themselves and schools for
their children was everywhere apparent; while they were always willing
to come to the open-air services round the camp-fires. In the parts
of Northern Rhodesia through which our journey lay there were but
small indications of the advance of Mohammedanism from the north, of
which we had heard much. In the territory recognised as the Society’s
field of operations we have the country almost to ourselves. But in
the northern part of this territory there were not wanting indications
that the followers of the “false prophet” were already at work. In the
northern part of Central Africa Islam is advancing like a flood, and it
was clear that unless our Society is able effectively to occupy this
territory, we shall before many years be face to face with the growing
forces of Mohammedanism in its most debased form. The light which is
brightening the sky in Central Africa has this background of threatened
cloud and storm.