CUSTOMS: SOME CURIOUS AND SOME CRUEL
Stopping the rain—Causing the river to subside—Appeasing
water-spirits—Saved by his wit—Debit and credit in killing—Methods
of drinking—Purification by fire—Preventing spirits following their
relatives—Burying women alive with their husband’s corpse—Killing a
man for a feast—Honouring the dead—Ceremonies at a grave—A monument
to a chief.
It was raining one day for about three hours when I noticed a
rain-doctor standing on our beach trying to stop the continuous
downpour. He was a tall, upright, old man of very kindly disposition,
and we had often had joking conversations on this very subject of his
power to stop the rain. He had frequently, with much emphasis, asserted
his possession of such a power, and assured me that one day he would
prove it to me. It was now raining one of those kinds of rain that seem
as if it had begun at the Creation and would continue to the crack of
doom. From the verandah of my house I saw the rain-doctor pluck a leaf,
and going to the bank of the river, he placed the leaf on the closed
fist of his left hand, and after extending the arm towards the quarter
from which the wind was blowing, he waved it to and fro in a semicircle,
and then struck the leaf with the open palm of his right hand. This
operation he repeated several times, and at the end of an hour or so the
rain began to abate and at last ceased. He then came smilingly up to my
house, and said, “You see, white man, I can stop the rain.”
Of course he could when there was no more rain to fall. I reminded him
of his many failures, and the frequency with which he himself had been
caught in the rain; but such reminders neither shook his own faith, nor
the people’s, in his power to stop the rain.
If a family were troubled with much sickness, and a witch-doctor said it
was due to the dissatisfaction of So-and-so’s spirit (mentioning the
name of an important and recently deceased member of the family),
because no offering had lately been made to him, then the family would
kill a slave and send him with a message to their troublesome deceased
relative, requesting that he would not cause them any further
misfortune. If the deceased belonged to a “bush” or inland tribe, the
slave would be killed and buried; but if the departed one was a member
of a riverine tribe, then the slave was tied up and thrown into the
river. We induced them to stop this custom, but the more timorous ones
for a time compromised the matter either by burying brass rods, equal to
the price of a slave, in the grave, or scattering them in the river.
The occasion was as follows: The river was rising rapidly and flooding
the low-lying town of Monsembe, and as the water rose higher and higher
the head-men met together to decide what was to be done to cause the
river to subside. Passing that way at the time and hearing the subject
of their discussion, I listened to the conference, which lasted about
three hours. They suggested one reason after another for the flood, but
at last they were unanimously of the opinion that the father of one of
the men present was angry with his family for slighting him so long, and
to show his disapprobation, he had caused the river (River Congo) thus
to rise, and the only method of securing its subsidence was to throw a
human sacrifice into the river.
When they arrived at this decision I asked for permission to speak,
which was readily granted. With my walking-stick I drew an outline of
the Congo River, and, putting in some of the larger tributaries, I told
them how the rain was falling incessantly in those parts, and that if
they wanted to keep the river from rising, the best way was to send
their rain-doctor to Stanley Falls to stop the rain, and thus end their
anxiety. And as I spoke I pointed to the old man who was sitting among
the other head-men.
“Oh,” they exclaimed in chorus, “our rain-doctor can stop the rain
falling in these parts; but his powers will not act in another district.
Our only remedy is to throw an old man into the river.” Old men were
cheaper than young ones.
“Well,” I replied, “old Mata Bwata (the old chief who was credited with
the rise of the river) was a little man, and I am a big man; but one day
I shall die and shall be buried here in Monsembe, and if so little a man
can cause the river to rise so much because he is angry with you about a
ceremony, how high do you think I shall cause the water to rise when I
shall be angry with you about murdering men and women in this manner?”
“Why,” they answered, “you will be able to make the water come right
above our heads, and we shall all be drowned. All right, white man,”
they continued, “we know what you mean, and we promise not to throw
anyone into the river.”
We found afterwards that they compromised the matter, for when they held
a mimic “naval” battle (with canoes) in honour of Mata Bwata’s memory,
to appease his dissatisfied spirit, they scattered six hundred brass
rods in the river—the price of a slave—in lieu of a human sacrifice.
While on this subject of appeasing water-spirits I may relate a very
amusing incident that came to my knowledge, the chief actor in which was
well known to me. The folk in the Bombilinga district had been very
unsuccessful in their fishing, and putting the cause of their
non-success down to the wrath of the water-spirits who had turned aside
the fish from their traps and nets, they desired to conciliate them.
With this object they decided to buy a man and throw him into the river.
They bought a man with one eye, who, on account of that deformity, was
sold cheap, and, tying him, as they thought, securely, they hurled him
from a canoe into the river.
By some means, however, he got loose and swam ashore, and on his landing
the surprised people asked him why he had returned after being
sacrificed to the water-spirits. His smart reply was: “The water-spirits
did not want any one-eyed folk down there, so they loosened the ropes
and sent me ashore.” By his wit he saved his life, but another and more
perfectly formed person was bought and thrown into the river in his
stead. This happened some years before we went to live in the district,
but the one-eyed man I knew very well, and more than one person told me
of the incident.
Up to the early months of 1890 eight brothers lived at Bonjoko—a town
three miles below Monsembe. For some unknown reason their slaves beat to
death the chief of that town. Now slave-owners were held responsible for
the actions of their slaves, so the brothers had to flee for their
lives; but one of them was killed before he could escape, and the others
came to Monsembe and built a set of houses with a strong palisade round
them. They lived thus for nine months in apparent security. A chief,
however, is worth two ordinary men, and the family of the murdered
head-man did not forget that one more life was owing to them, but they
waited their time and opportunity.
Some nine months afterwards a Monsembe slave fell from a palm tree and
was picked up dead. All that day and the next the other slaves of the
town danced and sang at the funeral festivities of the dead man, and
during the noise of their crying and chanting dirges some Bonjoko people
entered the town, rushed into the stockade, and, killing one of the
brothers there, they cut open the head of another, and chased a third
one into the bush, where they speared him to death.
If only one brother had been killed the feud would have ended, and
reconciliation between the families would have followed; but in affairs
of this kind they have a credit and debit side, i.e. the chief of
Bonjoko was a great man, so it needed two deaths to expiate his. The
Bonjoko people had killed one brother before the family had escaped from
the town, and now they desired to kill one other only to square the
account; but being divided in their attack into two or three parties,
acting independently, neither knew what the other had done or was doing,
two brothers were killed, during the raid, instead of one. Thus the
Bonjoko family owed one life to the brothers, and according to custom
they should not have stopped hostilities until there was a clear
balance-sheet. The remnant of the brothers could move about freely, and
needed no longer to live enclosed in a stockade. It was now the turn of
the other family to go in fear of their lives. The brothers took the
bodies of their slain relatives to Bonjoko for burial; and a short time
afterwards made blood-brotherhood with the other family, and the blood
feud was thus finished.
It leaked out eventually that the Monsembe head-men, who had little or
no sympathy with the brothers, had received 1000 brass rods not to
oppose the Bonjoko family when they came for vengeance, although the
head-men had accepted large presents from the brothers on the promise of
protection and the right of asylum in their town. This treachery was
condemned by public opinion, but those who condemned it only did so
because they had had no share of the spoils.
The principal drink, apart from water, was _manga_ = sugar-cane wine.
The canes were cut into two-feet lengths and the outside skin peeled
off. The juicy pith was put into a long, strong, canoe-shaped trough,
where it was pounded into pulp with heavy pestles. By the side of the
trough was a strong cross-stick fixed to two stout uprights, and from
the cross-stick was suspended by many loops a cord-plaited mat about 16
inches wide and 2 feet 6 inches long. At the lower end of the mat was a
stout stick hanging from the bottom loops of the mat. The operator took
a large handful of crushed fibre from the trough, and placing it on the
mat he gave a twist to the lower stick, folding the mat over on to the
fibre, then with both hands he turned the lower stick again and again,
until no more juice could be pressed from the enclosed fibre. The juice
ran from the rope mat into a conduit below, and on into a large jar at
the bottom. This process was repeated until all the crushed fibre had
been pressed in the mat. This operation was generally begun about 4 a.m.
and completed by 8 or 9 a.m. A little old sugar-cane wine was added to
the new, and by 3 or 4 p.m. the whole jar, containing from eight to
twelve gallons, would be fizzing with fermentation. A jar of four
gallons could be bought for two yards of calico.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. C. D. Dodds_
A BOLOKI DRINKING-BOUT
Sugar-cane wine is made early in the morning, and by the afternoon it
is well fermented. A native bell, or drum, is sounded, and the folk
gather for the carouse. When a drinking-bout lasts several days the
men have leaves fastened in their hair.
]
A man would buy a jar of wine and beat his drum in a certain way to call
his friends, who, after a few minutes, began to gather from various
parts of the town, each followed by a wife carrying a stool and some
article out of which her husband was to drink. One had a bottle, another
a saucepan, another an old coffee-pot, another a jug, another a glass or
an enamel mug. A man was chosen to dole out the wine with a small wooden
bailer, and no matter how large the vessel offered, the recipient only
received so many dips of the bailer, and thus all shared alike.
During the sugar-cane season drinking-bouts were common and would last
from eight to ten days. Different head-men would buy on succeeding days
large jars of _manga_, and would beat their drums to call their cronies
and friends to the “drink.” They would sit in a circle round the jar of
sugar-cane wine, and one would solemnly ladle it out, but no one would
drink until all were served. Women, who sat behind their husbands at
these carousals, drank only what their husbands gave them, and I have
seen only three drunken women. This was not because the women had any
aversion to drinking or to drunkenness, but because they could not
procure the liquor. The making of the “wine” was a laborious process,
hence, while the women cultivated and prepared the canes, the men made
the wine and took care to drink it. Drinking-bouts were always followed
by a certain amount of sickness, as fever and diarrhœa, and a complete
loss of appetite for a time. I think the rough, sharp pieces of fibre
found in the unstrained wine irritated the bowels and brought on
dysentery; and the irregular lives they lived during these bouts induced
fever.
The majority drank in the ordinary way, but some in a manner peculiar to
themselves. One sucked his wine through a reed; another had a cloth
dropped over his head while drinking; another placed some fine-shredded
grass over the mouth of his bottle and quaffed his wine through that;
another took a piece of plantain leaf and, making a channel down the
middle, put one end into his mouth and poured the wine out of his bottle
on to the top end of his leaf, whence it ran down the groove into his
mouth. All these various modes of drinking are rigidly followed out of
regard to the strict injunctions of some “medicine man,” who has told
them that in order to prevent the return of a sickness from which they
have suffered, or to escape certain diseases, they must drink in such
and such a manner, or not at all. When a man was “on the booze” he stuck
a leaf in his hair to show it, and then no notice was taken of any
stupid or insulting remarks he might make, or of any business
transaction he might enter upon.
One day I saw an old woman whom I knew very well sitting in the centre
of a ring of fire, and upon inquiry I found that she had had much to do
with preparing a corpse for burial, and at the close of the ceremony she
had to be purified. A ring of fire made of small sticks encircled her;
she took a leaf, dried it, crunched it in her fist, and sprinkled it on
the fire, moving her hands, palms downwards, over the fire ring. When
the fire had died out a witch-doctor took hold of the little finger of
her left hand with the little finger of his right hand, and, lifting her
arm, he drew her out of the fire circle purified. She was now supposed
to be cleansed from all contamination with the dead.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. C. J. Dodds_
A BOLOKI WOMAN AND CHILD
The parallel lines of cicatrices running from the neck to the navel
are for ornamentation. The ring of solid brass round the neck weighs
about 12 lbs., but some weigh even 28 lbs.
]
Walking one day in Monsembe I saw an incident that recalled Burns’ “Tam
o’Shanter” to my mind. There had been a death in a family, and the
relatives had just performed all the necessary rites and ceremonies, and
were returning to their homes. A small trench some twenty feet long was
dug with a hoe. The relatives took up their position on the side of the
trench nearest to the grave, the medicine-man stood on the other side,
and his assistant was placed at the end of the trench with a large
calabash of water. At a signal the water was poured into the trench, and
while it was running the medicine-man took each person by the hand, and
mumbling an incantation he pulled him, or her, over the running water.
When all had been pulled over, one by one, the water was allowed to run
until the calabash was empty. I asked the reason of the ceremony, and
they told me it was to keep the spirit of their deceased, and buried,
relative from following them. It was very evident from the rites
observed that they thought the spirits could not cross running water.
One evening I heard a considerable amount of shouting and screaming, and
on going to the scene of the excitement I found two women strongly bound
who were weeping most bitterly, and begging to be set free. I asked them
the reason for being thus tied, and they replied, “You know our husband,
Mangwele, is dead. He is to be buried to-morrow morning, and we are to
be buried alive with his body. Untie us, white man, and save us from
such a death.”
I knew the custom of the district very well, but had never been brought
into contact so closely with it. In every family of importance there
were one or two women called _mwila ndaku_, which meant that when their
husband died they were to be buried alive with his corpse, unless in the
meantime they bore children, when other women took their place. Every
time they heard their name it was a reminder of the awful fate that
awaited them.
From my heart I pitied the women, and turning to the members of the
family I pleaded and remonstrated with them in such a way, and with such
God-given eloquence, that they at last said, “All right, white man, we
will give up this custom.” They untied the women, who at once began to
dance about us, relieved that they had been rescued from such a horrible
fate.
Next morning the men came and asked me to attend the funeral, to see for
myself that they really intended to keep their promise. I went, and for
the first time in the history of that district a man of importance was
buried without living women being inhumed with the corpse. Now I knew
all the wives, children, and slaves of that man, and whenever I asked
for them, they were able to show them—a proof that they had not secretly
buried any after I had left the grave; and as only members of the
family, or slaves owned by the deceased, would follow and attend upon
the spirit of the departed, I felt sure that no outsiders had been
surreptitiously substituted. From that time they used to request that
either I or one of my colleagues would attend important funerals, to see
that they kept their promise. We were exceedingly glad to stop such a
cruel custom.
We were not always successful in our efforts to save life, as the
following incident will show: The people at Bonjoko determined to have a
great feast. They bought as fat a slave as they could procure, broke his
legs and arms, and fed him for three days, while they made a great
quantity of sugar-cane wine. I made every possible endeavour to save
him, but utterly failed to do so, and on the third day he was killed and
the horrible orgy was held. That was in the early years of our Mission;
but in after years they became heartily ashamed of the whole affair.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_: _Rev. R. H. Kirkland_
A MEMORIAL TO A DECEASED HEAD-MAN
A shelter with an open front is erected, and lined with cloth. A rough
table covered with a cloth is arranged, and on it are placed
wash-hand basins, bottles, etc., and under it are put stools, large
wine jars, etc. These things are all “killed,” that their spirits
may go to the spirit-land and be the property of the chief thus
honoured. See page 106.
]
When a man of any position died his wives would throw off their dresses
and wear old rags (sometimes they would go absolutely naked), pick up
anything belonging to him—his chair, spear, pipe, mug, knife, shield, or
blanket—anything that first came to hand, and having covered their
bodies with a coating of clay, they would parade the town in ones, or
twos, or threes, crying bitterly and calling upon him to return to them.
They would stop at times in their crying and say, “He is gone to
So-and-so, we will go and find him,” and away they would start off in a
business-like fashion in their pretended search for him. This parading
they would keep up for a day or two, and then women of the town would
bedeck themselves with climbing plants, vines, leaves, and bunches of
twigs, and forming themselves into a procession they would march through
the town chanting the praises of the deceased. Men would paint and arm
themselves as for a fight, and would imitate the daring acts of the
departed as a warrior; and if he had been remarkable for fighting on the
river, they would arrange a sham canoe fight in his honour. Fifteen or
twenty canoes, filled with men armed with spears, shields, and guns,
would go through all the manœuvres of a mimic river fight, firing their
guns, pretending to throw their spears, or deflect them with their
shields, circling round each other amid shouts of their prowess, or
laughter at those who, losing their balance, fell into the river. Those
ashore would crowd along the bank and yell out directions, approbation,
and encouragement to their friends in the canoes. It was an amusing and
interesting sight, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed both by actors
and spectators alike. They called this praising or honouring the dead.
I was asked on one occasion to attend the burial of a prominent man of
the district, and was interested in seeing the following rites
performed: After the coffin had been lowered into the grave, men came
forward, and, taking a spear, they called upon the spirits of those whom
the deceased had killed in times of war to attend their conqueror in the
spirit-world, and every time a name was mentioned or an order given a
thrust was made with a spear. The deceased had killed seven persons, and
their skulls were arranged round the base of the wild fig tree just in
front of his house. Different men called on the different spirits, and
so far as I could ascertain it was those who knew all the particulars of
the slain, and the circumstances attending their death, that had to call
on them to attend and obey the deceased. It seemed to me that he gave
details of the person killed in order that the spirits should make no
mistake as to who was meant, and described the manner of death that
there might be no misapprehension about a claim on their service being
established. Some spears and knives were put in the coffin, and some
brass rods (the currency) were laid in the grave for the use of the
departed.
Some months later a shelter was built over the grave, with a rough table
under it. On this table mugs, bottles, saucepans, plates, etc., were
arranged; and at the sides, and under the table, stools, chairs, large
wine-jars were put; but everything was “killed,” i.e. broken. All the
natives told me that the articles were “killed” to keep people from
stealing them, yet they had an idea that the things thus displayed not
only served as a memorial to the deceased, but helped him in some
indefinable way in the spirit-land. Undoubtedly they had forgotten the
reason for “killing” the articles. The stealing reason was not
sufficient to meet the case, for there was too wholesome a fear of the
revenge the spirits could inflict, and detection was too easy for anyone
to be so foolhardy as to rob a grave. No, this display of useful goods
served three purposes: it was a “monument” to the important man buried
beneath it; it was a proof of his own, and his family’s, wealth; and
lastly, and probably the original object of the articles being placed on
the grave, they were conveniences to increase his comfort and prestige
in the spirit world to which he had gone.
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