AMONG CONGO CANNIBALS
[Illustration:
BOLOKI MAN AND HIS WIFE
Notice the cicatrice on the man’s forehead and on the woman’s stomach.
The brass ring round her neck in some cases weighs as much as 28
lbs. In her hand she is holding a paddle.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
AMONG
CONGO CANNIBALS
EXPERIENCES, IMPRESSIONS, AND ADVENTURES
DURING A THIRTY YEARS’ SOJOURN AMONGST
THE BOLOKI AND OTHER CONGO TRIBES
WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THEIR
CURIOUS HABITS, CUSTOMS
RELIGION, & LAWS
BY
JOHN H. WEEKS
CORRESPONDENT TO THE ROYAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL INSTITUTE AND TO
THE FOLK-LORE SOCIETY
AUTHOR OF “CONGO LIFE AND FOLK-LORE,” &C. &C.
WITH 54 ILLUSTRATIONS & A MAP
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON: SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LTD.
1913
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
The object of the author throughout these pages has been to give an
account of his experiences among the Boloki (or Bangala), and a
description of the manners, habits, customs, etc., of this interesting
people amidst whom he lived in closest intimacy as a missionary. The
author went to the Congo in 1881, hence his residence in what has been
aptly called “Darkest Africa” covers a period of thirty years—fifteen of
which were spent in other parts of the Congo, and fifteen amongst the
Boloki people. These pages, however, are not a record of missionary life
and work, but a description of primitive life and native organizations,
of African mythology, superstition, and witchcraft, and of barbarities
that are the natural outcome of the native’s view of life.
The writer, from the very first days of his life amongst the Boloki
folk, kept extensive and careful notes of all that he saw and heard
around him. The anthropology and folk-lore of the people have always
been interesting subjects to him; and while reducing the language to
writing, a task which demanded a clear understanding of the various
words in use and the customs which they often describe, he was gaining
an insight into the native life and mode of thought only vouchsafed to
those who have won the confidence of a savage people, and are living in
close and sympathetic touch with them.
The author has no particular anthropological axe to grind, but has tried
to give in plain language what he has seen and heard, leaving to the
reader the pleasure of forming his own theories. The reader of these
pages may rest assured that nothing is exaggerated or overcoloured. Had
the writer wished he could have described the appalling corruption of
native morals, the lack of innocency even among the very young, the
absence of virtue among the women, and the bestiality existing among the
men. One often felt the need of a moral bath to cleanse away the filth.
An intimate knowledge of the natives impresses one with this fact: that
the golden age has not yet dawned for them; and that the unsophisticated
savage living a _dolce far niente_ existence in happy surroundings has
not yet been discovered on the Congo.
Had this been a book dealing with missionary effort among the Boloki,
the author would have made due mention of the honoured colleagues who so
unstintingly shared his labours at Monsembe; but as it is an account of
the people themselves, their customs, habits, etc., this must be his
apology for an omission that is due not to forgetfulness of happy years
of comradeship, spent amid many perils and hardships, but simply to the
limited scope of the narrative.
* * * * *
The author is much indebted to the Royal Anthropological Institute of
Great Britain and Ireland for permission to use his articles printed by
them in their Journal; and for a similar kindness extended to him by the
Council of the Folk-Lore Society. His best thanks are also due to his
former colleagues, the Revs. C. J. Dodds and R. H. Kirkland, for their
ready permission to use the photographs bearing their names; to Prof. F.
Starr, of Chicago University, for permitting the cats’ cradles to be
reproduced from the Proceedings of the Davenport Academy of Sciences;
and to Baron Haulleville, Directeur du Musée du Congo Belge, for
permission to reproduce here the plates of some of the Congo Fish which
were made from specimens collected by the author. To A. R. Wright, Esq.,
Editor of _Folk-Lore_, and to the publishers’ Reader, the writer tenders
his hearty thanks for useful criticisms and helpful suggestions.
JOHN H. WEEKS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Page
IN SEARCH OF A NEW SITE 27
CHAPTER II
SETTLING AT MONSEMBE 38
CHAPTER III
STRUGGLES WITH THE LANGUAGE 48
CHAPTER IV
EARLY DAYS AT MONSEMBE 65
CHAPTER V
ARTS AND CRAFTS AND NATIVE INDUSTRY 79
CHAPTER VI
CUSTOMS: SOME CURIOUS AND SOME CRUEL 96
CHAPTER VII
SOCIAL LIFE AND ORGANIZATION 107
CHAPTER VIII
MARRIAGE AND CHILD-BEARING 122
CHAPTER IX
NATIVE EDUCATION 140
CHAPTER X
NATIVE GAMES AND PASTIMES 149
CHAPTER XI
A PAGE OF NATIVE HISTORY 159
CHAPTER XII
NATIVE GOVERNMENT AND THE NATIVES 169
CHAPTER XIII
NATIVE LAWS, CRIMES, AND ORDEALS 179
CHAPTER XIV
MYTHOLOGY AND FOLK-LORE 197
CHAPTER XV
WAR 222
CHAPTER XVI
HUNTING 229
CHAPTER XVII
FISHING 235
CHAPTER XVIII
RELIGIOUS BELIEFS 246
CHAPTER XIX
THE BOLOKI WORLD OF SPIRITS 261
CHAPTER XX
MEDICINE MEN AND THEIR MAGIC 276
CHAPTER XXI
TABOOS AND CURSES 294
CHAPTER XXII
NATIVE CHARMS AND THEIR USES 302
CHAPTER XXIII
DEATH AND BURIAL 314
CHAPTER XXIV
NATIVE DISEASES AND THEIR TREATMENT 324
------------------------------------------------------------------------
APPENDIX
NOTE 1.—ON YEASTS, FERMENTS, AND BREAD-MAKING 335
NOTE 2.—ON THE BOLOKI VERB 336
NOTE 3.—ON THE BOLOKI METHOD OF COUNTING 339
NOTE 4.—ON BOLOKI RELATIONS OR KINSHIP 342
NOTE 5.—ON NATIVE DISEASES 345
NOTE 6.—ON THE HEALTH OF WHITE MEN ON THE 346
CONGO
INDEX 350
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Boloki Man and his Wife _Frontispiece_
A Meal “en route” 22
A new type of Native House 22
A Village Street in Monsembe 34
Group of Mobeka Men 42
Looking up Lake Libinza from Bosisera 42
Our Boat and its Crew 76
A Room in the Monsembe House 76
Pots and Saucepans for sale, Libinza Lake 88
A Native Woman of Wealth 90
Burning Grass for making Salt 92
A Boloki Drinking-bout 100
A Boloki Woman and Child 102
A Memorial to a deceased Head-man 104
Boloki Women preparing an Evening Meal 116
Group of Boloki Women at Mobeka 118
Native Carpenter and his Workshop 150
Model of a State Steamer 150
Group of Libinza Folk 156
Mangwende-a typical Boloki Head-man 160
A Monitor 162
A Native Hut 162
White Ants’ Nest 190
Boloki Boys with Wine Jar 200
Huts built for use during War time 222
A Boloki Shield 224
A Boloki Method of Beheading 226
Tetrodon Mbu 236
Gnathonemus Numenius 236
Genyomyrus Donnyi 242
Protopterus Dolloi 242
A Mungala Creek Village 264
A Libinza Charm for protecting a Village 278
A Charm for increasing the Birth-Rate 290
A Bopoto Fetish for ensuring good health to 308
Twins
A method of Beheading on the Upper Congo 316
Head-man and his Wife 320
Method of Securing a Prisoner 326
A Boloki woman dressing her Husband’s Hair 326
The Author doctoring a Crocodile-bitten Hand 332
Map for "Among Congo Cannibals." 353
------------------------------------------------------------------------
AMONG
CONGO CANNIBALS
INTRODUCTION
When living at San Salvador, in what is now known as the Portuguese
Congo, in the early eighties of last century, the writer frequently
conversed with the natives about the inhabitants of the far interior who
occupied the banks of the Great Congo River and its tributaries. The San
Salvador folk assured him that the natives of the mysterious hinterland
were “half fish and half human”; that “from the navel upwards they were
human, and downwards they were fish.” No arguments would alter their
opinion, and no amount of good-natured raillery would shift them from
their position; and they generally clinched the matter by saying: “You
have never seen these people; but some of our grandfathers saw them, and
told our fathers about them.”
One night this general belief that up-river folk were “half fish and
half human,” received a severe shock from which, I think, it never
recovered. A caravan that had been trading towards Stanley Pool returned
to San Salvador bringing with it a slave woman from far up the river.
About midnight I was aroused to go and see this woman. No one understood
her language; but she was making vigorous signs, and her owner was not
sure whether the gestures indicated hunger, fatigue, or illness; so
there was nothing for it but to “call the white man to interpret the
signs,” or, perchance to talk with her, “for these white men know
everything, therefore let us send for one residing in our town.”
On arriving at the hut we saw, by the flickering blaze of the fire, a
fine, well-proportioned woman of splendid physique. Her hair was
arranged in a coiffure, coloured, stiffened, and kept in shape by being
plastered with palm-oil, and the powder of burnt pea-nuts, or soot. It
looked as though she wore a shining black fez on her head, slightly
tilted backwards. She was probably a Bambala, or a Kiteke woman of that
branch of the tribe that lived behind the riverine folk three hundred
miles above Stanley Pool.
The signs were interpreted as denoting some stomach trouble, and after a
little medicine had been given we heard no more about it. During the
short time she remained in the town she was the observed of all
observers—a curiosity from afar; but her appearance killed once for all
“the half human and half fish” theory the San Salvador natives had so
fondly held respecting the inhabitants of the Upper Congo.
When in later years I went to live among the Bangalas on the Upper
River, I found that they held as strange theories about the remoter
peoples higher up, or north and south of them. They would tell of
monsters down south whose chief was a woman[1] with a white skin that
shone so fiercely that the eyes of those who looked on her were
scorched; or of people away north who lived in trees and ate raw flesh,
etc., because they did not know how to make a fire; or of folk far away
in the watery west who lived half their time in the water and had webbed
feet like ducks. It would seem as though folk of all climes, of all
ages, and of all degrees of civilization have amused themselves by
peopling unknown regions with mythical monsters—Cyclops, men whose heads
do grow beneath their shoulders, centaurs, mermaids, etc., and that even
the savages of barbarous Africa beguiled the long evenings around their
fires by conjuring up freaks in nature, like the more learned ancients,
to inhabit the countries beyond their ken.
Footnote 1:
Had the fact that some portions of South Africa were governed by a
woman—Queen Victoria—filtered through the tribes in this distorted
fashion?
There is another peculiarity of the natives, worthy, perhaps, of notice
in this connection: those who live on the coast always refer to the
hinterland folk in contemptuous terms as “bush-people,” i.e. ignorant,
dull, slow in the up-take, or as we say, country yokels, clod-hoppers.
When you arrive in the hinterland you find that dwellers in the large
towns speak of those who live in the villages and hamlets as
“bush-people,” and they put into their tones such contempt that one is
surprised to find that they belong to the same tribe and speak the same
language.
Arriving on the Upper River you find also that all riverine peoples
speak of the interior folk—those living away from the river—as
“bush-people,” and utterly beneath their notice. There is no more
opprobrious phrase that can be flung at a native than to call him a
“bush-man” in a language that he understands. He will resent it, and if
there is the slightest chance of success he will fight over it.
In June, 1890, after having lived on the Lower Congo at San Salvador and
Matadi for nine years, I started for the Upper Congo for the purpose of
seeking out a new site for missionary effort amongst the natives of a
new tribe and language. Between the last navigable point on the Lower
Congo, Matadi, and the commencement of the navigable water on the Upper
Congo, Stanley Pool, there were 240 miles of very bad, rough road.
Since those days a Belgian company has built a narrow-gauge railway
running between Matadi and Stanley Pool. I cannot pay too high a tribute
to the splendid courage, persistency and engineering skill exhibited by
the Belgians who surveyed the land for the lines at the cost of many
lives; and built the railway, conquering immense difficulties, and thus
achieving for themselves a great and deserved financial success. If the
Congo Free State had sent men of the same kind and class to govern the
country that the railway company sent, and are sending, to build and
control the railway, we should never have heard about the terrible
atrocities that have taken place, nor should we have heard of
mal-administration, cruel oppression, and the mutilation of wretched,
unprotected natives.
The railway officials treat their native employees honourably and
honestly; and although hundreds of our native Christians work on the
railway as stokers, guards, brakesmen, storekeepers, and stationmasters,
I have never heard a single complaint from them against their white
masters. They have to work hard, but they are treated justly, and they
are sure of their pay; and our native Christians are always ready to
sign contracts with the railway authorities for one or more years.
In the early eighties the road from Matadi to Stanley Pool was thickly
populated, and every hour or two brought the traveller to a large,
decently-kept town; but in 1890 the people were mostly gone, and the few
villages left on that long stretch of road were small and neglected, and
the few remaining people had a wretched, poverty-stricken appearance.
Why this change?
In the meantime the country had become the possession of the African
International Association, which quickly changed into the Congo Free
State with King Leopold II of Belgium as its ruler. Zanzibaris were
imported during this period, armed with rifles, and sent up-country to
found and occupy the State stations on the Upper Congo. These soldiers
no doubt were liberally provided with brass rods to buy native food on
their march to Stanley Pool; but they found a people practically
unarmed, for what were flint-lock guns in the hands of natives—who
depended more on the magic of their “medicine men” for straight shooting
than on the accuracy of their aim—against weapons of precision in the
hands of a trained and unscrupulous soldiery such as were the
Zanzibaris? The results were constant raiding on the part of the
Zanzibaris; looting of unprotected native huts; taking twenty rods’
worth of food and throwing down only two or three rods in payment; and
often when there was a white officer in charge, and he was appealed to,
no redress was obtained by the defrauded native, nor punishment meted
out to the offender; but frequently the accuser was beaten from the
white man’s presence, thus adding physical suffering and insult to the
loss of goods.
There is a probability that the natives were turbulent and swaggering in
their attitude; but it was not until after the first outrages had been
committed by the Zanzibaris that the natives retaliated on every
favourable occasion. From what I know of the folk from thirty years’
experience of them, I feel sure they were not the first aggressors—they
had, and still have, too wholesome a fear of rifles to be that. It was
only when they had been treated like rats, having no rights in their own
country, that at last, like rats, they turned at bay with hearts
inflamed by hatred and revenge. But flint-lock guns could not compete
with rifles; and small, untrained bodies of men lacking leaders and
cohesion could not contend against drilled soldiers who fired bullets
that penetrated two or three men, so there was nothing for them but to
leave their towns on the road, and build away in the forests and valleys
at some distance from the main track running through the country.
Hence what was once a populous trade route, humming with life in the
early eighties, had become by 1890 a desolate track that by its lack of
people disappointed the new-comer, who in Europe had heard of the
teeming millions of the Congo, but could not now in 240 miles of road
find enough people to fill a decent-sized English village. “Where are
the people?” was the frequent question on his lips.
“They have left the trade route, and have rebuilt their towns and
villages in the woods, the valleys, and the bush-lands for peace and
security,” was the repeated answer.
“Why?” was invariably the next question.
“Because the land was cursed with a plague of rascally Zanzibaris, and
irresponsible white men who feared their soldiers more than they feared
God, and who acted unjustly in their dealings with the people.”
Lest some of my readers should think that I am unduly prejudiced in the
above statements of what took place on the Stanley Pool road, let me
give the history of another trade route in practically the same part of
the Congo along which people of the same tribe and language lived, and
for the same period of time, viz. 1878-1890.
The pioneers of our Mission in 1878 penetrated the interior from Musuku,
which is about fifteen miles below Matadi, and used that place as a base
for nearly five years. In 1883 a better site for their purpose was found
on the top of the hill at Tunduwa (about three miles below Matadi). Our
early pioneers[2] found the road between Musuku and San Salvador well
populated with hospitable people, with plenty of food, so that there was
no need to take rations for men, and very little provisions for
themselves, and towns were so numerous that a tent was unnecessary.
Footnote 2:
Messrs. Comber, Bentley, Crudgington, Hartland, and Grenfell.
When we removed our base to Tunduwa the traveller to San Salvador
dropped down to Noki in a boat, and in two or three hours from Noki he
joined the Musuku to San Salvador route. It was generally a five-days’
journey.
When I left Musuku in January, 1882, for San Salvador, I found just what
my predecessors had found—plenty of villages, abundance of supplies
(fowls, eggs, goats, vegetables, native bread, etc.), and a hospitable
people ever ready to lend us a house in which to pass the night; and for
all the eight years I knew the road intimately, and traversed it, the
supply of food, the number of villages, and the kindliness of the people
remained the same. Yet during that time there was an increase of traffic
on the road, for our transport grew as our Mission extended; and in the
meantime two trading factories—one French and the other Portuguese—were
started and maintained in San Salvador, necessitating a greater number
of carriers on the road.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. A. Billington_
A MEAL “EN ROUTE”
The carriers, tired with a four hours’ journey, on coming to a
resting-place, drop their loads and stretch themselves for a good
rest. The personal lads prepare a meal, and as there is a white lady
in the party a white table-cloth is spread over the rough table in
her honour.
]
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. C. F. Dodds_
A NEW TYPE OF NATIVE HOUSE
These large, airy wattle and daub houses are taking the place of the
old-style grass huts that were formerly the usual structures
throughout the district. They are more healthy, clean, and
comfortable.
]
What made the striking difference between the two routes—depopulation
and poverty on the one, continued prosperity on the other? I have
already given the causes for the wretchedness and desolation found on
the road to Stanley Pool in 1890 and the succeeding years; now let me
state, clearly and briefly, the reasons for the flourishing condition of
the San Salvador road. The men used for the transport service on the
latter route were natives of San Salvador and district, Kroo boys and
Loangos, they travelled unarmed, they bought their food, and so long as
they observed the well-known courtesies of the road they moved freely
and were unmolested. The carriers thus behaving themselves _en route_,
the natives treated them fairly, and often supplied them with water—a by
no means trifling kindness in a country where there are no water-taps in
the houses, and the refreshing drink has often to be carried a mile or
more.
The inhabitants of the various villages knew that if they overcharged
the porters, were extortionate in their demands, and surly in their
conduct, the carriers would give them a wide berth and, by making a
detour, leave them severely alone; and thus a regular source of their
village’s wealth would be cut off. Besides, the natives are fond of
social intercourse, giving and receiving news, and these men who passed
constantly to and fro between the centre of native life at San Salvador
and the outside world as represented by the trading stations on the
river, were always full of interesting news, and to turn them aside from
a village by outrageous conduct was equal to cutting themselves off from
the world, stopping as it were the daily papers and the weekly budgets.
This was unthinkable, for natives are sociable folk and like to keep in
touch with their fellows.
When any serious cases of dispute arose between the carriers and the
natives on the road, they were brought to us at San Salvador, and we
settled them impartially, justly, and amicably to the satisfaction of
the parties concerned.
The natives who lived near the large rivers that were impassable by
fording during the rainy season, built bridges across them, and kept
them in repair. We white men at San Salvador acknowledged our
indebtedness for this service by paying an understood sum in barter
goods—the traders paying a much larger amount than the Missions[3]
because their transport was heavier—when we heard they had completed the
bridges. It was no easy task to make these bridges long and strong
enough, considering the materials and tools the workmen had at their
disposal; but it meant for us that the road for our cases, bales, and
mails was open all the year round, and also that our carriers and goods
ran no risks from swollen, swirling rivers.
Footnote 3:
The Portuguese Roman Catholic Mission settled at San Salvador a year
or more after we had begun our Mission.
It will be seen from the above that the natives on the San Salvador road
were treated very differently from those on the other trade route under
consideration, consequently the villagers of the former maintained the
food supply, retained their character for hospitality, and continued to
live and thrive on the transport line; while the people on the Stanley
Pool route left the track, and starvation, depopulation, and desolation
were the results. The Congo natives have a keen sense of justice, and
they appreciate straight and honest dealing.
It was my first intention to add a chapter on the results of the Congo
Free State’s régime. I refrain, however, from doing so, but desire to
touch upon the subject in a few short paragraphs. The charges brought
against the Congo Free State during recent years have, unfortunately for
the natives, been proved too true. More than that, they were worse than
could ever be published in the daily Press, for no self-respecting
editor could, or would, have printed in his paper the outrageous and
abominable details that were brought to light by those who were living
in the midst of them.
We hope, and we trust not in vain, that by the accession of King Albert
and his gracious consort, Queen Elizabeth, to the throne of Belgium a
better day is dawning for the poor, oppressed and downtrodden natives of
the Congo; and the news that has come to us from the reformed part of
the Congo indicates greatly improved conditions.
It is tacitly understood just now that we should give the Belgian State
an opportunity of carrying out its reforms; and although the agitation
is not being prosecuted with its former activity, that does not mean
that we are to relax our former vigilance, nor shall we do so until the
natives enjoy those rights which are their proper heritage in their own
country.
We missionaries are neither ashamed nor repentant, and never will be, of
the humanitarian part we played in bringing to light the enormities that
came to our notice. We had given up home, the comforts of civilization
and, rightly or wrongly, we had devoted our lives to the amelioration of
the natives, and we could not as men, as Englishmen, as Christian men,
stand by and see those natives, for whom we had given up all, slowly
oppressed to death for the sake of a clique of men in Europe who were in
a hurry to get rich.
I was among the first to raise my voice against the horrible conditions
that prevailed until recently in many parts of the Congo, and my mode of
procedure was this: I sent my letter of protest, first to the
“Commissaire” of my district; if no investigation into the charges was
made, then I forwarded a copy of the letter to the Governor-General at
Boma, and then, if after waiting the necessary length of time there was
neither inquiry nor redress, the letter, with all particulars, was
posted to Mr. Morel for publication in the English Press as the last
resort. The State itself forced us to appeal to the public.
The Commission of Inquiry selected by King Leopold himself exonerated us
from all blame and thanked us for the part we had taken in the
agitation, for on investigation we were able to prove to the very hilt
every charge we had brought against the administration of the now
defunct Congo Free State. It is too late in the day for travellers to
deny that atrocities were committed because natives do not talk to them
about such things. Let such travellers thoroughly learn the language of
the people and gain their confidence and then listen to their story.
The native does not wear his heart on his sleeve for every crow to peck
at, and when he sees a white man, here to-day and gone to-morrow, who
knows little or nothing of his language, hob-nobbing with State
officials, he is not going to pour out his heart to such and tell what
he has suffered at the hands of the traveller’s white friends.
What the Congo needs is a Government not seeking to enrich itself
to-day, but with visions of a colony the inhabitants of which, in days
to come, shall rise up and call it blessed; it needs civil officers
swayed by honourable principles, and controlled by pure, conscientious
motives that shall administer impartially righteous laws; it needs
traders who shall deal fairly by the people (and some of them do that,
we are glad to say), who will exchange the wares, the civilized
conveniences (not fiery spirits) of Europe for the labour and produce of
the natives as a further incentive for them to work, travel, and trade;
it needs the agriculturist to introduce better methods of cultivating
the soil and fostering the resources of the country; it needs the
mechanic to teach various trades and industries; the educationalist and
the Christian teacher to cultivate the mental and spiritual side of the
natives—these all working harmoniously together, no one class sneering
at the other, no one arrogating to himself the work of another, but
respecting each other and co-operating for the uplifting, civilizing,
and Christianizing of the Congo people. We shall then see a people not
cursing the white man, but blessing him; not cringing before the white
master in grovelling fear and hearts bursting with hatred, but standing
erect as God intends men to stand; and not downtrodden and oppressed,
their lives a misery to them, but free and happy with the joy of life
pulsating through their veins.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I
IN SEARCH OF A NEW SITE
_Peace_—Bangala tribe—Panic in Bungundu towns—People become
friendly—Driven away from Bokomela—Fierce and revengeful
natives—Revisit Bokomela—A cordial welcome—Reason for warlike
attitude—Shooting a native for a wager—Monsembe district—Bumba
people stand to defend their women and children—Quietness dispels
their fears.
During the early days of July, 1890, we were busy at Bolobo station,
preparing for our long journey up-river in search of a new site for a
mission station. The steamer _Peace_, a vessel 70 feet long by 10 feet 6
inches wide, and of very shallow draught, was placed at our disposal.
The Rev. W. H. Stapleton, who had just arrived from England, was
appointed to be my colleague; and as Mr. Silas Field had charge of the
steamer and crew we were without responsibility respecting them, and
were free to land at every available place and investigate its
suitability as a centre for our work.
At this time the Baptist Missionary Society had three stations on the
Upper Congo—one at Bolobo, about 200 miles above Stanley Pool, another
at Lukolele, a little over 100 miles farther on, and the third at
Bopoto, more than 400 miles beyond Lukolele, or 700 miles from Stanley
Pool. It was thought desirable to plant a station among the Bangalas at
a point somewhere midway between Lukolele and Bopoto, and thus occupy a
part of that great unevangelized district inhabited by one of the finest
tribes on the Congo.
The Bangalas were reported to be a strong, warlike, cannibal tribe of
fierce habits, cruel customs, and independent spirit. They would demand
patience, tact, and the facing of many dangers from those who, without
arms and soldiers, went to live among them. Still, such splendid men
were worth winning to better ways, notwithstanding the many possible
risks to be encountered in the work. As savages they were feared by
surrounding tribes, and if won to Christianity their indomitable courage
warranted us in hoping they would become the intrepid heralds of their
new faith.
By July 11th we had packed on board our little steamer the nails,
provisions, tools, barter goods, and medicines that could be collected
for our new project. A better outfit would have been welcome; but we
thought it was wiser to start with what we could get together than to
wait an indefinite period for larger supplies.
Two days after leaving Bolobo we arrived at Lukolele, and in due time
Lulanga was reached. Lulanga was a large town at the mouth of the
Lulongo River, a fine tributary of the Congo. There our search began. It
took us fifty minutes to walk through the town, the houses of which were
built closely together. We estimated the population at 3000 people.
There was then less than a mile of bush, and another town of over 1000
inhabitants, and about an hour’s walk back from the river were other
clumps of villages containing, we were informed, more than 2000 persons.
It was a good centre for our purpose; but the Congo Bololo Mission had
established some stations up the Lulongo River, and after consulting
with their senior missionary at Bonginda (30 miles up the Lulongo), we
decided that the town at the mouth of the river they were working should
really be their base of operations, and as they promised to occupy it,
if we did not build there, we left it to them.
At Lulanga we left the south bank of the Congo, and after two hours’
steaming and winding among the numerous islands we had the large
district of Bungundu stretching before us on the north shore of the
river. Picking out the biggest town we could see from the deck of our
steamer, we steered our way towards it, and as we drew near we could see
the women seizing hold of their children and their fowls, and scurrying
away with them into the bush as fast as possible; the men also were
tugging at their goats and sheep to hide them in the bush and woods that
surrounded their town, for it was their unfortunate experience that the
white men who came on steamers took fowls, goats, and sheep without
paying for them.
When we landed we could not see a single person. We walked up and down
the roads calling upon the people to come out of hiding, to come and
talk with us, or sell us some fowls. After a considerable amount of
shouting an old man put his head round a corner of a house and said:
“White men, if you want to buy any fowls of us, sit down where you are,
and send your boys; we will sell to them, but not to you.”
We thereupon handed some looking-glasses, knives, bells, beads, and
cloth to our boys, and told them that after they had bartered for some
fowls they were to try to persuade the people to have some conversation
with us. After buying a few fowls our lads said: “Come and talk with our
white men. See, they are perfectly harmless, for they are sitting down
where you told them. They are not _bula matadi_ (= State officers). They
neither desire to fight you nor tie you up. They are _mindele mia
Njambi_ (= the white men of God, i.e. missionaries). Come and palaver
with them.”
After much hesitation on the part of the native, and much persuasion by
our lads, the old man drew near to us, and as he came closer he put out
his hand to greet us; but on seeing our white hands approaching his,
fear took possession of him, and he drew his hand quickly back. At last,
however, we heartily shook his hand and his courage returned. He then
went over to a large drum, and beating upon it the women quickly
returned from the bush with their children and their fowls, the men came
back with their goats and sheep, and the town resumed its usual lively
appearance.
Directly they learned the purpose of our visit they begged us to live in
their town; they took us up and down the various streets, and pointed
out all the advantages we should enjoy if we would only build amongst
them. We had to allay their importunity by telling them that we could
not decide at once to live in their midst, as we wished to go higher up
the river and visit other towns and tribes; but if we found their town
the most central for our work, we would return to them. And we concluded
by saying: “We do not desire, wherever we go in this district, that the
people should run away from us as you did; cannot you therefore lend us
one or two of your young men to go with us to reassure the people? We
promise to return them safely in due time.”
It was astonishing to us that these nervous, fearful folk who had run
helter-skelter from us about two hours before should bring two of their
young men to us, and in their trustful simplicity place their hands in
ours, saying: “Here are two of our people to accompany you, and when you
have done with them bring them back again.”
After that, whenever we arrived opposite a town, these two men would go
into the bows of the steamer and, shouting loudly to the people ashore,
would tell them not to be afraid, not to run away, that we were good
sort of white men, that we were buying fowls at a very good price, and
if they only stayed they could make some profit out of us. For we were
giving the enormous sum of about threepence each in barter goods for the
fowls, instead of the usual price of twopence.
Throughout the rest of that district we received a hearty welcome from
the people, and many pressing invitations to settle in their midst. We
had no illusions about these invitations. We fully recognized that the
people desired us to live in their towns for reasons quite different
from those that actuated us: our presence would give prestige to their
district, and especially to the town in which we built; we should be,
more or less, a guarantee of security, and freedom from the lootings and
raids of State soldiers who were already beginning to trouble the people
on the Upper Congo; and it would be an immense advantage to them to be
able to exchange their food-stuffs, etc., for barter goods at a store in
their neighbourhood, rather than have such weary journeys to take in
their canoes, or go without the needed articles. We understood perfectly
well that we were not so boisterously invited because of our message,
for of that they knew absolutely nothing, and in their then savage and
ignorant state cared perhaps less than nothing for it.
Leaving the Bungundu district we steamed for many miles along a
monotonous stretch of forest, and then reached the thickly populated
line of Bokomela towns. Selecting the largest we could see, we turned
our steamer towards it; and, putting our pretty little vessel along the
beach in front of the chosen town, we prepared to go ashore. Through our
glasses we had seen the women and children running hurriedly away, and
the bustling activity of the men who lined the bank and stood on the
trees overhanging the river. Just as we were about to step ashore we
noticed that the men lining the bank above us had raised their spears in
a very threatening attitude, and the old men on the trees had fitted
their arrows to their bows ready to shoot at us. We recognized that we
were in a tight corner; we wondered where the spears and arrows would
strike us. A false movement would have been misunderstood, and a shower
of sharp weapons would have been the result. Our pulses raced
tumultuously, our hearts seemed to thump our ribs; but outwardly we were
calm and self-possessed. We did not know until months later how near we
were to a horrible catastrophe—to being, in fact, the principal dishes
at a cannibal feast.
In the best “trade language” we could muster we told the excited savages
who and what we were. “Go away,” they screamed, “or we will kill you. We
want nothing to do with you white men.”
We tried to explain the purpose of our visit, and asked them to let the
Bungundu men land and talk with them. And all the time we were standing
unarmed within twenty feet of their upraised spears. There was a deadly
silence on the little steamer, and the crew had taken refuge behind any
and every thing that offered protection from those murderous lances and
arrows.
“Go away,” they shouted more fiercely; “we will kill the men if they
come ashore, and all of you afterwards. We’ll have nothing to do with
white men.” And in frantic unison the excited mob took up the cry of
their head-men.
There was nothing for it but to push off our steamer and leave the
place. It was not until we were beyond the reach of their arrows that we
breathed freely, and then fully realizing the whole meaning of the
incident, and its possibilities of death to us and disaster to our
plans, we bowed our heads in prayerful thanks to God for His protecting
care.
Some months after our establishment at Monsembe, I went down to those
districts in a canoe paddled by a few lads; and those same Bokomela
people, hearing, from the song of the lads, that one of the Monsembe
white men was approaching, hurried out in their canoes with fowls in
their hands as tokens of their good-will, and begged me to go ashore.
What was the reason for this strange and pleasant change respecting us?
It was this: In the meantime they had heard of our peaceable lives and
intentions; of our straightforward and honest dealings with the natives
about us; that we neither stole things ourselves, nor allowed our people
to steal; but always bought what we wanted at a proper market value.
These facts coming to their knowledge had entirely altered their
attitude towards us, and had turned former enemies into would-be
friends.
On going ashore they gave me a most cordial welcome, and when quietness
had been restored, I said: “Some months ago we came to you on our little
steamer, and you drove us away with murderous threats of spearing us.
Why was that? We were quiet, peaceable men; why were you in such a
rage?”
An oldish man, sitting quietly on a stool near by, arose and said:
“White man, just before you came to us on your steamer, the white men on
a passing steamer shot our chief and some of our people for no reason at
all. Shot them down while standing quietly on the bank, and for that
reason we swore to kill the next white men that came our way, and you
were the next to come.”
Undoubtedly they would have had their revenge upon us but that God
placed His hand over theirs, so that neither spear nor arrow was hurled
at us. More than once or twice have we seen the spears poised ready for
the throw; and every time we have found that some cowardly, dastardly
white men had been before us and, having shot down the natives for no
reason whatever, had gone off and left the next unsuspecting white men
who went that way to bear the brunt of the natives’ mad, but excusable,
desire for revenge. Legacies of hatred have been unfortunately left by
too many white men among savage peoples, who regard all white folk as
belonging to one tribe, and as one or more of their kinsmen have been
murdered by white men, then to retaliate by killing other white men
will, they think, balance the account.
As illustrative of the preceding remarks the following unvarnished story
is unfortunately too _à propos_: A State steamer in 1890 was proceeding
up a tributary of the Congo, and on its upper deck two white officers
were sitting holding a discussion on marksmanship, when they saw, at
some distance in front of them, a native standing in his canoe paddling
it from one side to the other of the river. The two officers instantly
made a bet as to which of them could knock the man over. Guns were
raised and fired, and Captain X. brought down the poor unsuspecting
wretch and pocketed the stakes;[4] but he left a heritage of hate that
has lasted to this day, if there are still alive in that district any
relatives of the murdered man, or witnesses of the foul murder.
Footnote 4:
In 1890 this incident was common talk in that district. Besides the
two men who laid the wager, there were two other white men on
board—captain of the steamer and the engineer. This incident was more
frequently related as a joke than otherwise.
It seemed to some of us a righteous retribution when a couple of years
later Captain X. himself was shot by his native attendant, whether
accidentally or purposely nobody knew. Let me say, once for all, that
among the State officers there were gentlemen of fine, sterling
character who acted fairly and honourably in all their dealings with the
natives; men whose ideals were high, whose motives were good, and who
desired nothing better than the amelioration of the tribes with which
they came into contact. If such men had been in the majority, and had
had a free hand, the pitiful, horrible story of Congo atrocities would
never have been written.
About twenty-five miles above Bokomela we came upon the Monsembe
district. There were three bays crowded with large towns, and only two
miles beyond Monsembe was a long creek teeming with people. We reckoned
also that Bungundu and Bokomela districts would come within the sphere
of our influence; but before fixing on Monsembe as our centre we went
still higher up-river to weigh the possibilities of other places. Town
after town we passed of prosperous, healthy, fierce, and barbarous
savages. Very often we were amongst them and shaking hands with them
before they had decided whether to welcome or fight us; then seeing two
friendly, unarmed white men in their midst they greeted us heartily and
were soon bartering fowls, plantain, and various food-stuffs for empty
bottles, old meat tins, and Manchester goods.
Diboko (or Nouvelles Anvers) was visited; and with our colleagues at
Bopoto we spent a pleasant time. At Bumba we came upon a continuous
stretch of villages for nearly two miles in length. As we steamed close
to the bank we observed that the villages were divided by gullies which
were bridged by old canoe planks. The folk were quiet, and as the place
looked well populated with apparently prosperous people, we decided to
land.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. C. J. Dodds_
A VILLAGE STREET IN MONSEMBE
This row of houses belongs to one man, and while he may have one for
himself, he will also have a wife in each hut. Every marriage means
an additional house, for the Congo native is too cute to put two
women in one house.
]
Arriving at the extreme upper end of the series of Bumba villages, we
tied our steamer to a tree on the bank and went ashore. A few miserable,
half-starved dogs barked at us; but there was no one to greet us, or
object to our landing. We moved slowly forward, and then we noticed that
the virile, young men, armed with spears and shields, were keeping about
fifty yards ahead of us; that the old men and the sick were crouching
over their fires warming their hands and keeping up a constant chatter;
and that there was an absence of women and children in the villages. Now
when there is an absence of women and children in an African town or
village, you may be fairly certain that the men are up to mischief, or
think a fight is to the fore. We walked warily to keep ourselves out of
any possible ambush; and as we came to the gullies dividing the villages
we found the planks had been removed, this necessitated our going down
and up the sides of the gullies. Arriving at the last ditch we started
to cross it as we had done the others, when we observed a rustle in the
tall grass on the further side, and looking closely we saw that the bush
was alive with armed men with spears gripped threateningly. Just beyond
them in the forest were their women and children, and they were standing
between them and possible death or capture as represented, so they
thought, by the two white men on the opposite side of the gully.
To have run away would have meant a shower of spears hurtling through
the air after us from the excited people, so we sat down and parleyed
with them. “Did you ever know,” we asked, “white men coming to fight
without soldiers?”
“No,” was their ready though surly reply.
“Well, we have no soldiers with us,” was our quick rejoinder. That was
self-evident, for there were only a few of our personal lads about us.
With a little more hope in our heart of escaping from another difficult
fix, we began again. “Did you ever know white men to come and fight
without guns and swords?” was our next question.
“No,” again was their reply. This time a little more friendliness in
their tone, for their fears of a fight were, like ours, passing away.
“Well,” we argued, “we are two white men without guns or soldiers, but
with simply walking-sticks in our hands; and are all your men armed with
spears afraid of two white men with walking-sticks? Come and put up the
bridge and help us across.”
After a short consultation among themselves, some young men replaced the
plank and helped us over; and the discreet distribution of a few beads,
spoons, and penny looking-glasses won for us their eternal good-will.
Our return to the steamer was like a triumphal progress. The men shouted
and danced in very revulsion of feeling to find it was a friendly visit
and not a fight. Plank bridges were quickly rearranged, and
outstretched, willing hands steadied us as we crossed them. The old and
sick who had remained around the fires good humouredly chaffed those who
had armed themselves for a battle that never came off. All’s well that
ends well, and the people were as glad as we were that no blood had been
shed and no wrong committed. They begged us very earnestly to come and
live among them.
We went as far as Ngingiri on the River Luika, and then turned the nose
of our steamer down-stream. Monsembe was the best centre for our work
that we had seen in all the long stretch of river we had traversed above
Lulanga. There we should have ample room for expansion, itineration, and
out-posts along the north bank from Bungundu to Likunungu—a distance of
200 miles; we should also have the south bank in our parish from Bolombo
to Bokatalaka Creek—a stretch of 80 miles; and the creek just above our
proposed station site was said to communicate with the Mobangi River. We
estimated the population near to Monsembe, among whom we should be able
to itinerate on Sundays, at 7000, and throughout the district, lining
the river, at 50,000 at the very least. Then there were the hinterland
towns, whose populations were as yet unknown. It was a splendid sphere
of immense possibilities. It was therefore with high hopes and undaunted
hearts that my colleague and I entered upon our labours among the
cannibals of Monsembe.
We returned the men we had borrowed from Bungundu. What a welcome they
had on their arrival home! We had been absent so long that the folk had
almost given up all hope of ever setting eyes again on their townsmen.
They received a suitable reward, strutted about the town in their fine,
brightly-coloured new cloths, and I suppose ever afterwards posed as
widely travelled men whose words in future were to be taken on all
matters relating to riverine geography, tribal marks, and other
subjects. Leaving Bungundu we crossed to Lulanga and, picking up the
goods we had left there in charge of a Dutch trader who treated us with
much kindness and hospitality, we returned to our future home at
Monsembe, which for the next fifteen years was to be the centre of our
world and the scene of many joys and sorrows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------