CHAPTER XII

NATIVE GOVERNMENT AND THE NATIVES

No paramount chiefs—Head-man rules his own family—Stanley’s “Lord of

many guns”—_Monanga_, a term of respect—The alien is robbed—The

guest protected—Arrival of canoes—Estimation of native

character—Good memories—Learning to read pictures—Timid and

superstitious—Lack of reverence—Pride—Greedy and mean.

Among the Boloki there are no paramount chiefs. Each town has its set of

families that prefer living together, and each family has its head

called _mata_, who is the eldest son, and who as eldest takes the title

and the largest share of the estate. At any time a family is at liberty

to break away from the rest and live by itself on a new site. The _mata_

may be a man with wives, slaves, and followers numbering from 200 to 300

and even more, or the _mata_ may not be able to muster more than fifteen

or twenty people; yet as head of his family he possesses the same title

(_mata_) as the more powerful ones.

Stanley in his books on the Congo uses many phrases about Mata Bwiki of

Diboko (now Nouvelles Anvers) that favour the idea that he was an

overlord, or lord paramount of the district; but that was not so. _Mata

bwiki_ simply means Head-man Plenty, or Plentifulness. Stanley, I think,

gives as its meaning, “Lord of Many Guns,” but his name then should have

been, _Monanga wa bibau biki_ = lord of guns many. Stanley on his

memorable journey happened to go ashore at the landing-place belonging

to Bwiki’s family, and he as head of his family took the lead in

Stanley’s reception. If Stanley had landed half a mile above or half a

mile below that particular spot he might never have heard of Mata Bwiki.

The word _monanga_ is used in a restricted way as meaning a free-born

person, either male or female. It also is employed as a term of respect

and means “lord,” and frequently is equivalent to Mr., Monsieur, etc. It

is attached to the name of any man to whom or of whom you wish to speak

with deference and respect. We are always addressed as _monanga_, but

never as _mata_; and many of the more wealthy natives who are not _mata_

are spoken of as _monanga_, and all who are entitled to be called _mata_

have a right to be addressed as _monanga_, but they prefer the former

title. _Mata_ is distinctly the hereditary designation of the eldest son

and points to him as the head of his family, and _monanga_ a courtesy

title of respect.

The _mata_ then governs all matters relating to his own family, and from

his decisions there is no appeal. Undoubtedly he calls together the

elder folk of his family to counsel him on important affairs; and these

head-men of the village meet under the wild fig tree, or in the palaver

house, and decide village matters as between family and family, and also

their policy towards other villages in the district. There is an

unwritten code of laws dealing with most offences, and by these the

heads of the families judge each other and the members of their own

families.

The status of a person in the family and town council depends on whether

he is entirely free-born, or slave-born, or partly so. A child of slaves

is a slave, and as such his advice is never sought; a child of a slave

father by a free woman, or of a slave woman by a free father, is a

semi-slave (_mbotela_), but the position of the latter in the family

life is much higher than that of the slave, yet of course he does not

rank so high as the child born of free parents. Birth alone constitutes

membership of the family and tribe. A slave who redeems himself (a very

rare occurrence, for all that a slave earns belongs to his master) will

be tolerated in his attempts to pass himself off as a member of the

tribe; he may affect the tribal mark, and also plait his beard, etc.,

and his wealth may win respect, but being of no family he will have no

influence in the palavers of the village.

In dealing with an alien it is not considered wrong to rob, beat, abuse,

or even murder him, unless he has come on a visit, for trade or other

purposes, to someone in the town. He will then be under the protection

of his host, and receiving the hospitality of his host he will also

receive the hospitality of the town and neighbourhood. The host will

have a _casus belli_ against anyone who molests his guest; and a

village, on the other hand, will hold a host responsible for the

offensive actions of his guest. Men and women travelling alone, or in

twos and threes in places where they are not known, run the risk of

being captured. Such defenceless travellers hide by day and travel by

night to their destinations.

Green, in his _Shorter History of England_, says that “in ancient times

the painted British savage on approaching a village sounded a horn to

warn the villagers of his coming, otherwise he would have been treated

as an enemy who tried to surprise them by stealth.” Among the Boloki it

is the custom that when a canoe containing six or more men approaches a

town they have to beat a drum and sing to notify the folk of their

coming, otherwise they are treated as enemies and lay themselves open to

an attack. For a canoe of strangers from other towns and districts to

approach a town unannounced by drum and song is regarded as an act of

war. If their coming is peaceful, why are they afraid to drum and sing?

I have seen the crew of such a canoe badly handled for omitting these

courtesies, and but for our presence some of the travellers would have

been speared.

The _mata_ in the performance of his duties as head-man has to guard, in

the interests of his family, all those palm trees and _nsafu_

(_canuarensis_) trees that have been planted by his forebears. The

proprietary rights in these trees are by inheritance, or by planting

them, and the rights in them are handed on from father to son in the

proper line of heirship. They are sources of wealth to a family, and the

members of a family support their chief man when those rights are

infringed.

The head-man in the government of his family holds a very difficult

position when sitting in judgment on a relative, for such is the

character of the family life that if he fines the delinquent he will be

punishing himself indirectly—the family stands or falls together.

Robbery, adultery, wounding, and murder when committed within the limits

of one’s own family will receive the strong disapprobation of the other

members, but there is no punishment that the _mata_ can inflict unless

the offender is a boy, and then a sound thrashing will be administered;

for will they not be punishing themselves if they insist on the

infliction of a fine and to whom can the fine be paid? The fine imposed

would have to be paid by the family to itself. The _mata_, therefore, in

ruling his family exercises his greatest tact in maintaining the various

units of which it is composed in the friendliest relation to each other

and to himself. Then he has to keep a strong hand on the family slaves,

for he and his family will be held responsible for whatever offences

they commit against other families; and if they fight and quarrel

amongst themselves, his only wise course is to sell them and buy others

who may not be so contentious.

I never came across a more democratic form of government on the Congo

than that of the Boloki tribe. There is no prestige of birth to help, as

among the Lower Congo chiefs, for his subjects are of the same blood as

himself—except his slaves, and they are his property and not his

subjects. He has no position of priesthood (as the family “medicine

man”) to inspire with awe those who owe fealty to him as head-man; and

there is no position he can gain in any secret society that will inspire

with fear of him the other members of his family. His position is no

sinecure, and while his trouble is great his perquisites are few.

Perhaps this will be the best place to attempt an estimate of the Boloki

folk who thus live in families each under the rule of a head-man, and in

village communities governed by elders or head-men. Their memories are

exceedingly good respecting the debts owing to them, but with regard to

the debts they owe they have, or pretend to have, very bad memories—it

is for the creditor to keep in mind the debts owing to him, and to bring

the proofs at the proper time.

There are occasionally cases of insanity among them, some caused by

uterine trouble, and others are the results of sleeping-sickness. If

insanity is of long duration and the patients are destructive or

troublesome, they are quietly put out of the way. I only met with one

man who ran amok. He had had a very serious illness, and either the

illness or the decoctions given to him to effect his cure made him

temporarily mad. He cut down all the plantain trees in his path, and

destroyed everything he came near; the people cleared out of his way,

but being a man of importance he got off without any payment of damages.

When I went first to live among the people of Monsembe I had with me a

roughly bound volume of the _Illustrated London News_. It was very

interesting to watch the development of their artistic faculties. At

first they looked at a picture and asked what the marks were; they held

the picture anyhow, and looked at it from any point that might be

convenient to them without any regard to the picture being right side

up, or upside down, or any other way. By and by they began to pick out

the features, one by one, and say, “Why, it is a man!” They would pick

out the doors, windows, walls, etc., and remark, “Why, it is a house!”

After a time they would drop this spelling out, as it were, of the

picture and say, “A man, a woman, a house,” etc., at once. Later on,

they would take in the whole of a picture at a glance. I suppose it is

in this way we learn pictures in our childhood—spell them out. It was

interesting to watch the same process in young men, women, and adults.

I remember one day a man was looking at a picture of the members of the

L.C.C. gathered in their council chamber. He asked what it meant, and I

explained the significance of the assembly. He could only see well with

one eye, and with that one he very carefully scanned the whole of the

picture for two or three minutes, and then he asked in an incredulous

tone of voice: “This is a picture of men met to talk palavers, but where

are their spears and knives?” The natives never talked palavers without

having their spears and knives ready to hand, hence the doubt expressed

in his question and voice.

The native has immense respect for force, but totally despises

gentleness. He likes to be treated with kindness and consideration, but

instead of regarding such treatment as an expression of your goodness he

considers it a sign of your weakness, and will behave accordingly. If

you point out to him that you treat him with kindness and expect some

consideration in return, he will acknowledge that that is fair and

right, and will for a time try to act more thoughtfully, but soon the

better feeling will pass away unless you constantly remind him of his

many deficiencies—of all that he has to learn and all that he needs to

become.

To teach a native that he is your equal in all things is not to incite a

desire on his part to emulate you, but rather tends to cause him to

regard you with disrespect and contempt. The native knows he is not your

equal, and he thinks you must have a despicable twist in your vision,

and some bad, ulterior motive, if you think that he is your equal and

wish him also to believe the same. I teach him that he is a creature of

God as I am, that the Redeemer died as much for him as for me, and that

God will judge him righteously, and will show neither of us favour or

disfavour on account of the colour of our skins. At the same time, the

relation between teacher and taught must be maintained, and he must be

made to understand in how many ways he must be changed—morally,

intellectually, and socially; and that before he can take his place

among civilized and Christian men he must rise out of his degrading

superstitions, control his lusts, govern his passions, and strive after

all that is good, noble, and beautiful. He will admit that you are his

superior in every way, but unless you firmly insist on his taking his

right position as a learner he will conduct himself towards you with

less respect than he pays to the smallest and poorest chief in his

district, and in a short time your influence will be gone and you will

wonder why.

Treat the native with respect, and insist on receiving the same from

him; treat him with firmness, decision, masterfulness, and he will go as

a rule as far as you want him to go. Faithfully keep all your promises

and fulfil all your threats, therefore never make a promise you do not

intend to redeem, and never threaten a thing you are not able, on the

face of it, to perform, i.e. treat the native with gentle firmness,

persuasive force, and masterful consideration, and you will get the best

out of him, and cause him to respect himself while respecting you.

The native can love and he can hate; but he is neither a good lover nor

a strong hater. His affections are neither steady nor permanent. He

will, however, remember a wrong committed against him much longer than a

good deed done to help him. He is moved more by fear of pain, by loss of

material profit, and by public opinion than swayed by principles and

arguments. He will float with the stream rather than continually

struggle against it; but at the same time he can obstinately and

doggedly follow a course that will result in physical pain, financial

loss, and ridicule if he is once persuaded that his ultimate interests

lie in that direction.

He is not lacking in gratitude, but he is afraid of displaying it lest a

favour be asked of him in return. When you visit him he will remind you

of the fact that you mended his broken leg or cured his disease, not to

make it the basis of a generous act towards you, but rather as a plea to

procure something extra out of you by awakening your further interest in

him.

In some districts you will find he is more a liar than a thief, and if

you investigate you will discover that the fines imposed for thieving

are such as to deter him from following his inclination to steal. In

other districts, where the native laws are more lax, he will excel both

in thieving and lying, but he will readily admit they are vices worthy

of stringent punishment, and will express his regret that the thief

stole either from you or from himself, and at the same time he will be

doing his best to rob you.

Before the unknown and mysterious he is timid and very superstitious. He

will regard you as a _god_, and yet try to fight you; he will

superstitiously believe that you have wonderful occult powers that can

stop the rain, cause pestilence and plagues, and yet he will not attempt

to conciliate you, but will savagely shout at you to clear out of his

town and take your witchcraft elsewhere. When fighting with a gun he is

timid, nervous, and apparently very cowardly, because he does not

understand the mysteries of gunpowder; but give him a shield and a spear

and his bravery is evidenced by his boldness in a fight, and his utter

indifference to wounds and death. The mysterious overawes, paralyses

him, but superstitious fears will often arouse the very demon of cruelty

and vindictiveness, and incite to boldness and recklessness.

He lacks reverence, but is easily filled with awe and overcome by

wonder. The stars in their courses make for him no song around the

eternal throne; but the smoke ascending from his great bush-fires

forming a halo round the sun will make him quake with fear because it is

an omen of evil. The movements of the sun and the moon awaken no

admiration in him; but exhibit some poor conjuring trick, or a shilling

mechanical toy, and his eyes and mouth are not big enough to express his

wonder.

He is prouder than Lucifer is reputed to be, and will resent the

smallest slight put upon his so-called dignity. In a fit of overweening

vanity he will sacrifice everything he possesses, and destroy all his

future prospects to satisfy the pride of the moment. His family may be

insignificant, his town paltry, himself small and dirty, but touch his

pride and he will act as though he were _un grand seigneur_. He himself

must be the judge of what hurts his pride, not you. He has his own code

of honour and etiquette, difficult at times for you to understand, hence

you wonder at some of the exhibitions of his pride.

His memory is well trained, and his powers of observation keen and

minute; his ability to adapt himself to his surroundings is wonderful,

and his imitative faculties are remarkable; but he lacks power of mental

concentration and logical thought. His physical powers are highly

developed—he will carry a heavy load, from 70 lbs. to 80 lbs., up and

down hill and across broken country, or paddle a heavy canoe hour after

hour, without exhibiting much fatigue; but he cannot, or will not,

follow a line of thought, metaphorically speaking, for twenty yards. His

reasoning and reflective faculties are stunted, undeveloped, for they

have been exercised upon nothing more profound than the very alphabet of

existence. He knows that two and two make four—that certain results

follow certain causes, but that a series of causes will produce a series

of results complicated and wide-spreading in their effect he cannot

grasp. He has no power of deduction, and little or no faculty for

producing a well-developed plot or involved plan.

With those who have a right to a share of meat or cloth, etc., he will

be most scrupulous in dividing the article into equal portions,

forgetting no one; but to those who have no right to a share he will be

niggardly, mean, selfish, and grasping. His apparent generosity is

innate selfishness, for he only gives that he may receive more in

return, and be the giver black or white he will complain bitterly if the

return present is not so large as his greed imagined it should be.

Perhaps this trait in his character may be accounted for by his desire

to have a grand funeral—the talk of the village or the countryside. For

this he will save and scheme, lie and steal, rob his neighbours, his

wives, and his children to hoard up cloth, etc., for his own burial,

that he may have a good start in the spirit-land.

He has a wonderful power of imitation, but he lacks invention and

initiative; but this lack is undoubtedly due to suppression of the

inventive faculty. For generations it has been the custom to charge with

witchcraft anyone who has commenced a new industry or discovered a new

article of barter. The making of anything out of the ordinary has

brought on the maker a charge of witchcraft that again and again has

resulted in death by the ordeal. To know more than others, to be more

skilful than others, more energetic, more acute in business, more smart

in dress, has often caused a charge of witchcraft and death. Therefore

the native to save his life and live in peace has smothered his

inventive faculty, and all spirit of enterprise has been driven out of

him.

In the foregoing sketch I have generalized, and have not allowed for the

exceptions that are always to be found to every rule. Anyone who has

lived among the natives, and has known them intimately, will supply

examples of those who were kind, generous, grateful, of others who were

affectionate, devoted, unselfish, and again of others who were patient,

brave, faithful, and persevering; but these exceptions show that they

are capable of being possessed by the noblest virtues and swayed by the

highest and purest motives. Generations of superstition and moral

degradation have not entirely obliterated from among them examples of

kindness of heart and generosity of feeling, and these examples assure

us that with proper care and cultivation such virtues and graces may

become more widespread.

Those of us who teach the native in the workshop and the school find

through stirring up his moral and mental depths many undesirable

qualities coming to the top, and these we repress; but, on the other

hand, pleasant traits also exhibit themselves, and these we try to

cultivate. The beneficial results may not be obvious to the unseeing eye

in the first generation, and perhaps not in the second, but they will

manifest themselves in due course. The civilization of England is the

outcome of a thousand years’ teaching and training, and you cannot

expect us to attain the same results in a generation or two. It is, at

least, unfair of those who boast of their “superiority” to criticize us

for not accomplishing in a generation with “inferior” material what it

has taken a score of generations to accomplish in their own case.

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Among Congo cannibals · 第 12 / 24 章