SETTLING AT MONSEMBE
Moral way of procuring land—Ground measured—Price asked—Amount
accepted—Signing the agreement—Buying a house—An exorbitant price—A
house for five shillings and a penny—Well-populated hut—Making
ourselves comfortable—Cooking difficulties overcome—Present of two
goats—Inveterate thieves—Afraid of our “books.”
The authorities of the Congo Free State had informed us that we could
take possession of any plot of land in the district that we cared to
select. We did not, however, believe in accepting from a State that
which they had no moral right to give, but in buying from the people the
ground _they only_ had a right to sell us for our station. A few hours
after our return to Monsembe we measured out a piece of land one hundred
paces along the river front by three hundred paces deep, and said that
in the morning we would buy it of them.
Next morning at six o’clock we found a large crowd gathered to witness
the novel transaction of buying and selling land. They formed a motley
assemblage. Most of the men had two or more spears gripped tightly in
their hands, and broad-bladed, ugly knives of various shapes were
strapped in sheaths around their chests with the handles level with the
breast-bone. Some wore gaudy cloths, while others had bark-cloth or rags
that scarcely covered their nakedness. The women were dressed in
petticoats made from palm fibres, and these fringes were so numerous and
short that the wearers had every appearance of black ballet girls. Their
faces were streaked with different coloured pigments, or dusted with
camwood powder; and their bodies were rubbed with palm-oil. Beneath the
paint, the powder, and the grease one found agreeable faces often lit up
with really pleasant smiles.
We asked them how much they wanted for the piece of land, and without
hesitation they replied, “Five thousand brass rods.”
“No,” we said, “we cannot pay you so large a sum as that, but we will
give you one thousand rods now, and another five hundred in six months’
time, if you behave yourselves.”
The head-men consulted apart for a time, and then their spokesman said:
“We will accept your offer of one thousand rods now and another five
hundred in six months’ time, if you will put on top some bottles, some
knives, spoons, tin plates, looking-glasses, forks, cowries, beads,
cloth, fish-hooks,” etc. etc., in fact samples of everything they had
either ever heard about or could recall to mind at so short a notice.
Unfortunately for them we had not such a variety of barter goods as they
demanded, and we frankly told them so; but we promised to add some of
the articles we did have with us. We cut and counted out the thousand
rods,[5] tied them up in bundles of one hundred each, and then raked out
two empty pickle bottles from our store and, putting some fathoms of
cloth, a packet of brass chair nails, a few iron spoons, some trade
knives, a dozen zinc-framed looking-glasses, a few empty meat tins, the
ground became the property of our Society for about 38s. worth of goods,
reckoning them at invoice price.
Footnote 5:
_Brass rods._ A brass rod at Monsembe at that time was 15 inches long,
and not quite so thick as a slate pencil. These rods were the currency
of the district and, in fact, of the whole of the Upper Congo.
Everything had its price in brass rods—one egg = one brass rod; a fowl
= ten brass rods; two yards of cloth = twenty brass rods; a male slave
= 600 brass rods; and a female slave = 2500 brass rods. The brass wire
for these rods was originally melted down for their brass
ornaments—anklets, necklaces, armlets, leg rings, hafts of spears,
paddles, and handles of knives, etc. It was using the brass for this
purpose that first gave it any real value to them; and then they
exchanged certain lengths of the brass wire at a fixed price—so many
fathoms for a goat, etc.; and gradually the lengths of brass wire
became the medium of exchange, the unit of value, the currency of the
country. In 1890 the brass rods still retained their value not so much
as a medium of barter, although they were convenient for that purpose,
but as the metal from which they made their most popular ornaments. It
is quite possible that the rods changed hands in fathom lengths, and
those who came into possession of these lengths, each cut off a little
piece to procure a bit of brass for nothing, and hence the length was
gradually shortened, until in 1890 it was 15 inches. The process of
shortening continued, and in 1905 the standard length was only 11
inches. In Bolobo it was about 9½ inches, and on the Lower Congo,
where brass wire was used long before it filtered through to the
tribes on the Upper Congo, it was from four to five inches only in
1905. Of course, with the shortening of the rod, a larger number was
given for the article to be purchased. Every white man imported his
brass wire in coils, and cut the rod to the length used in the
district where he resided. Brass rods are now almost a drug in the
market, for not only have they been poured into the country in a
steady stream for the last thirty years, but the custom of melting
down brass for the manufacture of ornaments has been slowly dying out
during the last ten years. They desire other things than simply
ornaments now.
We then thought it wise to draw up a paper stating we had bought the
land of the people, the price we had given, and the amount we had
promised in six months’ time. The document was duly written out, and my
colleague and I signed it on behalf of the B.M.S. We then asked two of
their head-men to put their marks against their names on the paper as
witnesses to the fact that we had purchased the ground, so that there
could not be any future possible dispute about our possession of the
site.
At first they demurred greatly to having anything to do with the white
man’s “book”; they were extremely superstitious about the matter; it was
something uncanny, and for all they knew some mysterious evil might be
the result of touching that “book.” It needed much persuasion, and it
was only when we pointed out to them that they would have no proof that
we owed them five hundred rods that their cupidity overcame their fears,
and they consented to put their marks.
Mata Bombo was the first head-man chosen for this onerous duty. He was
the oldest head-man in the town, and had been foremost in the
negotiations for the land, in counting the goods, and most clamorous for
his share of them. The people therefore rightly thought that he should
be the first to undertake the unpleasant duty of putting his mark on the
“book,” so they laughingly pushed him forward much against his will.
When he reached the table he was trembling all over from very fear of
that “book” lying there upon it. His hand shook so much that I had to
put my hand upon his and help him to make his mark. On finishing it he
put the pen down with a dab, drew himself to his full height, carefully
stretched out his arms, and finding that nothing had happened to him, he
went away apparently satisfied that it was possible to have contact with
that mysterious “book” of the white man’s and not suffer for it. The
next witness was a much younger man, who, seeing that nothing had
happened to the first, came forward without any urging, picked up the
pen, made his mark and went his way as though he were used to signing
contracts every day of his life. Thus the land became ours on behalf of
our Society.
Having settled about the site, our next requirement was a house into
which we could move our goods from the steamer, and in which we could
live, for it was necessary that the _Peace_ should return immediately to
Bolobo. Looking over the ground we had bought, we saw a native hut that
would suit us until we could build a larger and better one. We had
purchased the land and the trees upon it; but we had arranged with the
people that all the houses on our newly acquired site should be removed.
To them this was a trifling affair: they ran a knife along a few
strings, a dozen men got under the roof, and in a few minutes you would
see it walking down the road; a few more men shook the walls, uprooted
the posts, and in an hour or so the house was rebuilt on another site.
We called the owner of the house that we thought would temporarily
answer our purpose, and asked him how much he wanted for it. “Five
hundred brass rods,” was his quick reply. Natives generally ask about
two or three times the value of an article, and I fancy this custom is
not altogether peculiar to African people.
“That is too much,” was our answer to his extravagant demand. “We will
give you two hundred rods for the house, and then you will be well
paid.”
He cogitated on our offer for a few minutes, and then lifting his head,
he said: “If you put a tin plate on top of the two hundred rods you can
have the house.” So we paid him two hundred brass rods, and a penny tin
plate; and for the first time in our lives became the owners of house
property.
Directly we had paid the price the man called his wives (he was the
happy (?) possessor of six) to remove their belongings. They brought out
their saucepans, hoes, baskets, mats, drinking-pots, firewood, and the
rest of their miscellaneous effects; the man carried out his paddles,
spears, knives, shield, and a few precious glass bottles that had
contained pickles, lime-juice, and drinks of stronger brew, and then
told us the house was ready for us.
We really could not expect a mansion for the amount we had paid, viz.
5s. 1d.; and we found that in order to enter it we had to stoop low,
lift our feet high, and, being unfortunately stout, we had to turn
sideways to effect an entry. Arriving inside, by putting up the hand we
could touch the ridge-pole, by spreading out the arms and swaying
slightly we could touch both walls, a few paces took us from one end to
the other of the central room, and if we had gone against the wall and
wanted to stand upright we should have had to put our heads through the
roof, for the walls were only just four feet high.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _a Dutch Trader_
GROUP OF MOBEKA MEN
Mobeka is situated at the mouth of the Mungala River, and the
inhabitants of that and many other villages in the vicinity belong
to the Boloki tribe.
]
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. R. H. Kirkland_
LOOKING UP LAKE LIBINZA FROM BOSISERA
Lake Libinza is a large sheet of water in the hinterland of Nouvelles
Anvers. It is studded with numerous islands, and is drained by the
Ngiri River, which runs into the Mobangi tributary.
]
The house, however, had the advantage of two small rooms—one at either
end of the larger central room. In one of these small rooms we stored
our tools, nails, and various materials for building our station; into
the other small room we put our barter goods and our scanty stock of
provisions; and in the central room we arranged our two camp bedsteads,
a table, a trunk or two, our chairs, and when we went in ourselves there
was not very much room to spare. That night when we went to bed we
discovered that although the women had removed their pots, hoes, mats,
etc., they had left behind them a large population which we wished they
had also taken with them.
To make our hut more habitable was our first object. We cut away the
high door-sill of sticks, canes, and grass; then in the eaves above the
doorway we made a gap in the roof by shortening a few rafters and
removing the palm-frond thatch—this gave us an easy means of entrance
and exit. Then we placed two poles about eight feet from the front of
our hut, and six feet from each other; a small pole was tied to the
posts about six feet from the ground, and other thin poles were run from
the cross-piece to the roof, and on these we arranged and tied a large
number of fronds from a small species of palm tree—this gave us a fine
shady porch to our house, which we used as dining-room, study, pantry,
and reception-room. We routed out a good percentage of the surplus
population from our hut, and on fine days we were not so uncomfortable
as to have any real ground for complaint.
But alas on wet days! The discomfort of them has left a lasting
impression on my memory. With a tornado the temperature often dropped
from 90° down to 65° in less than two hours; the strong, stormy winds
whistled through the grass walls of our hut; and the rain that fell in
torrents percolated through our roof, and in some places, along the
ridge especially, it ran in gentle cascades, anything but pleasant to
the owners of such house property to behold. To have made a fire in the
house to warm ourselves, as the natives did, would have meant being more
than half choked and blinded by the smoke that would have filled the
chimneyless house. We eventually found that the best way to weather the
storms comfortably was to lie on our camp beds, pull a waterproof sheet
over us, light a candle, and putting it on a dry spot read until the
tornado had spent itself.
There was another difficulty that we had to meet, viz. cooking. It was
easy enough to boil and fry our food; but boiled meat and fowls after a
few weeks somewhat pall; and we had not sufficient fat or lard to fry
much. There was palm-oil in abundance to be bought for a few brass rods,
but we had too frequently watched the natives make it to relish food
fried in it. We therefore bought two native saucepans for a penny each;
these were about 10 inches in diameter, 6 inches deep, and semicircular
in shape. One we stood on three stones, placed an empty sardine tin in
the bottom, and, laying a fowl on a tin dish, arranged it on the sardine
tin, and then turned the second saucepan upside down on the first,
fitting their edges together. Our fowls baked beautifully in this
improvised oven; but the saucepan had a tendency to crack.
Later on we procured an empty paraffin-oil drum, cut out the top with a
hammer and chisel, laid the drum down, and put in a layer of clay along
the bottom side. This clay not only gave us a level surface on which to
stand our dishes, but also kept the food from burning, and retained the
heat. We then nailed some tin, procured by flattening out a few empty
meat tins, over some pieces of wood, and there we had an admirable door
for our new oven. It cooked fowls, puddings, and bread[6] splendidly. No
patent has yet been sought for these inventions, so all those placed in
a similar predicament are free to use them.
Footnote 6:
See Appendix, Note 1, p. 335.
Fowls were plentiful, such as they were; but fresh meat (beef, mutton,
or goat) was a rarity. Consequently we were not at all sorry when two
head-men brought us, one day, a goat each as a present. Up to that time
we had not received a single present from them, not because the natives
had not brought any to us—they would have loaded us with their so-called
gifts—but we had persistently refused them on principle, knowing as we
did that the offerings were simply presented that the givers might
receive two or three times their value in return presents, and we had no
desire to foster such a spirit of selfishness, and no money to waste on
foolish amenities. We had refused so many “gifts” that when these two
head-men brought their goats and offered one to Mr. Stapleton and the
other to myself, we decided to accept them. We had, however, no
enclosure in which to keep goats, so putting a private mark on them we
sent them to herd with the other goats of the town.
We arranged that as the goats were of the same size, we would give
exactly the same return presents. We reckoned the goats at fifty brass
rods each—the market value of them; but we decided to give in barter
goods the equivalents of one hundred rods each, which we thought was
sufficiently generous for the occasion.
Mr. Stapleton called Dintela, the head-man who had presented him with
his goat, and spreading out the goods he made the usual speech of
good-will, etc., that the event demanded.
Dintela gave him to understand that the present was too small, that
white men who were so rich should give a much larger quantity of goods,
and that he could not accept such a paltry present. As Mr. Stapleton
would not increase the offering, Dintela demanded the return of the
goat, and tying a string round its neck he led it away, much disgusted
that he had not made so good a bargain out of his present to the white
man as he had anticipated.
A few days later as Bololi, the head-man who had given me the other
goat, was passing across the station I called him into the house, and
spreading out the goods identically the same as my colleague had offered
to his head-man, I asked him to accept them as a token of our
friendliness, etc., in return for his goat. He made some gestures
expressive of his depreciation of the gift, and after a haggling attempt
to procure an increase of goods, he, to my surprise in view of the
action of Dintela, collected the articles, put them in his shoulder
pouch, and went off apparently satisfied. The next day when we wanted to
kill the goat it had disappeared, and we never again set eyes upon it.
Dintela refused the goods and took his goat away; but evidently they had
talked over the matter with the other men in the town, and the result
was that Bololi accepted the articles and afterwards stole the goat,
which in the eyes of the natives was much the smarter action of the two.
After this, when head-men were too pressing in their offers of friendly
presents, we related the story of the two goats, and it never failed to
cure them of their fits of generosity.
We found them at that time, as the above incident of the goats
indicates, most inveterate thieves; but a few years later when three
young men of the town broke into our store and stole goods to the value
of sixteen thousand brass rods, the mass of the people arose in such
indignation on learning the facts that they tied up the thieves,
although they were free men and not slaves, and, bringing them to us
ignominiously bound, laid them at our feet. And public opinion was so
unmistakable in denouncing the act, that the young men and their
families disgorged the whole of what they had stolen from us to the last
brass rod.
At first they absolutely refused to trust us even with the value of an
egg—we had to put the price in their hands as we took the article; but
gradually they became less suspicious of us. During the early months at
Monsembe our steamer failed to arrive at the expected time, consequently
our small supply of barter goods became exhausted; and to be without
these articles of exchange in such a country was like being a foreigner
in a strange land without money. Food, however, was necessary, both for
ourselves and those dependent on us. We told the natives that our store
was practically empty, and that we could not pay them then, but would do
so when we received our goods from down-river. We offered them papers
stating what we had bought, the price agreed upon, the date, and the
seller’s name—a kind of promissory note which we promised to redeem on
the arrival of our steamer.
The natives said: “We will let you have the food supplies that you need,
but we will not accept your books.” They called any piece of paper at
that time a “book.”
“Why will you not take our books?” we inquired; “for we may forget how
much we owe, and to whom we owe it.”
“Oh, you will not forget your debts,” they replied; “and if there were
any fear of that we should not even then accept your books, but should
refuse to let you have the food without the money.”
“Why will you not take our books, then?” we again asked in amazement.
“Well,” they said, “if we were to accept your books, and put them in our
houses, no rain would fall on our farms, and we should all be starved to
death.”
Argue as we would, we could not move them from their superstitious
position in relation to our poor little pieces of paper. By that time
they knew our intentions towards them were good, or they would not have
trusted us with their fowls, eggs, plantain, and native bread without
receiving the barter goods at once, yet they were afraid of the evil
effects our “books” would have on their farms. They thought the magic
was in the “book,” and in spite of our good motives that that magic
would work against them directly the “books” had passed from us into
their possession. While the “books” were in our house we controlled or
nullified their evil magic, but when they had passed out of our hands we
had no further power over their wicked forces, and the natives were
afraid of not being able to counteract their _black art_, hence their
continued refusal to accept them. It was a curious belief that obsessed
them: that men who they firmly believed were kindly disposed towards
them should yet have in their possession such “books” as would work
mischief to those for whom they had nothing but friendly feelings. We
therefore entered their names in a notebook as we bought the food
supplies, and thus keeping an account of what money we owed, and to
whom, we were able to settle our accounts with them at a later date.
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