CHRISTMAS, 1914
A war-Christmas in the virgin forest! When the candles on the little
palm which served us as Christmas tree had burnt to half their length I
blew them out. "What are you doing?" asked my wife. "They are all we
have," said I, "and we must keep them for next year." "For next year?"
... and she shook her head.
On August 4th, two days after our return from Cape Lopez, I had
prepared some medicine for a lady who was ill there, and sent Joseph to
a store to ask that their steamer might take the packet down there on
its next journey. He brought back a short note: "In Europe they are
mobilising and probably already at war. We must place our steamer at
the disposal of the authorities, and cannot say when it will go next to
Cape Lopez."
[Illustration: ON THE BANK OF THE OGOWE RIVER.]
We needed days to realise that Europe was at war, though it was not
that we had failed to take the possibility of it into account; indeed,
following the advice of an experienced merchant, I had brought with me
a considerable sum in metal money in case it should come about. But
since the beginning of July we had received no news from Europe, and we
knew nothing of the entanglements which finally brought on the fatal
explosion.
[Sidenote: Native impressions regarding the war]
The negroes had, at first, very little understanding of {137} what was
going on. The Catholics among them were more really interested in the
papal election than in the war, during the autumn. "Doctor," said
Joseph to me during a canoe journey, "how do the Cardinals really elect
the Pope; do they take the oldest one, or the most religious, or the
cleverest?" "They take one kind of man this time, and another kind the
next, according to circumstances," was my reply.
At first the black labourers felt the war as by no means a misfortune,
as for several weeks very few were impressed for service. The whites
did little but sit together and discuss the news and the rumours from
Europe. By now, however (Christmas, 1914), the coloured folk are
beginning to learn that the war has consequences which affect them
also. There being a shortage of ships, no timber can be exported, and
therefore the labourers from a distance who had been engaged for a year
are being discharged by the stores, and as, further, there are no
vessels plying on the rivers that could take them back to their homes,
they collect in groups and try to reach the Loango coast, from which
most of them come, on foot.
Again, a sudden rise in the price of tobacco, sugar, rice, kerosene,
and rum, brings home to the negro's consciousness the fact that there
is a war going on, and this rise is what gives them more concern than
anything else for the moment. Not long ago, while we were bandaging
patients, Joseph began to complain of the war, as he had several times
done before, as the cause of this rise in prices, when I said to him:
"Joseph, you mustn't talk like that. Don't you see how troubled the
faces of the doctor and his wife are, and the faces of all the
missionaries? For us the war means very {138} much more than an
unpleasant rise in prices. We are, all of us, anxious about the lives
of so many of our dear fellow-men, and we can hear from far away the
groaning of the wounded and the death rattle of the dying." He looked
up at me with great astonishment at the time, but since then I have
noticed that he now seems to see something that was hidden from him
before.
We are, all of us, conscious that many natives are puzzling over the
question how it can be possible that the whites, who brought them the
Gospel of Love, are now murdering each other, and throwing to the winds
the commands of the Lord Jesus. When they put the question to us we
are helpless. If I am questioned on the subject by negroes who think,
I make no attempt to explain or to extenuate, but say that we are in
"front" of something terrible and incomprehensible. How far the
ethical and religious authority of the white man among these children
of nature is impaired by this war we shall only be able to measure
later on. I fear that the damage done will be very considerable.
In my own house I take care that the blacks learn as little as possible
of the horrors of war. The illustrated papers we receive--for the post
has begun to work again fairly regularly--I must not leave about, lest
the boys, who can read, should absorb both text and pictures and retail
them to others.
Meanwhile the medical work goes on as usual. Every morning when I go
down to the hospital I feel it as an inexpressible mercy that, while so
many men find it their duty to inflict suffering and death on others, I
can be doing good and helping to save human life. This feeling
supports me through all my weariness.
The last ship which left Europe before the declaration {139} of war
brought me several cases of drugs and two of bandages, the last a gift
from a lady supporter, so that I am now provided with what is necessary
for carrying on the hospital for some months. The goods for Africa
which were not sent by this vessel are still lying on the quays of
Havre and Bordeaux. Who knows when they will arrive, or whether they
will get here at all?
* * * * *
I am worried, however, about how to provide food for the sick, for
there is something like a famine in the district--thanks to the
elephants! People in Europe usually imagine that where "civilisation"
comes, the wild animals begin to die out. That may be the case in many
districts, but in others the very opposite happens, and that for three
reasons. First, if, as is often the case, the native population
diminishes, there is less hunting done. Secondly, what hunting is done
is less successful, for the natives have forgotten how to trap the
animals in the primitive but often extremely ingenious manner of their
ancestors, and have got accustomed to hunting them with firearms. But
in view of eventual possibilities it has been for years the policy of
all Governments in Equatorial Africa to allow the natives only small
quantities of gunpowder; nor may they possess modern sporting guns;
they can only have the old flintlocks. Thirdly, the war on the wild
animals is carried on much less energetically because the natives no
longer have the time to devote to it. At timber felling and rafting
they earn more money than they can by hunting, so that the elephants
flourish and increase in numbers almost unhindered, and the results of
this we are now beginning to {140} experience. The banana plantations
of the villages north-west from here, which provide us with so much of
our food, are continually visited by elephants. Twenty of these
creatures are enough to lay waste a whole plantation in a night, and
what they do not eat they trample underfoot.
[Sidenote: Famine, elephants, and hunting]
It is not, however, to the plantations only that the elephants are a
danger. The telegraph line from N'Djôle to the interior knows
something about the damage they do. The long, straight clearing
through the forest which marks its course is in itself a tremendous
attraction to the animals, but the straight, smooth telegraph poles are
irresistible. They seem to have been provided expressly for pachyderms
to rub themselves against! They are not all very firm, and a very
little rubbing brings one of the weaker ones to the ground, but there
is always another like it not very far off. Thus, in a single night
one strong elephant can bring down a big stretch of telegraph line, and
days may pass before the occupants of the nearest guard station have
discovered the damage and repaired it.
Although the elephants that roam the neighbourhood cause me so much
anxiety about the feeding of my patients, I have not yet seen one, and
very probably never shall. During the day they stay in unapproachable
swamps in order to sally out at night and plunder the plantations which
they have reconnoitred beforehand. A native who is here for the
treatment of his wife, who has heart complaint, is a clever
wood-carver, and carved me an elephant. Though I admired this work of
primitive art, I ventured to remark that he seemed not to have got the
body quite right. The artist, insulted, shrugged his shoulders. "Do
you {141} think you can teach me what an elephant looks like? I once
had one on top of me, trying to trample me underfoot." The artist was,
in fact, also a famous elephant hunter. Their method now is to go out
by day and creep to within ten paces of the elephant, when they
discharge their flintlock at him. If the shot is not fatal and they
are discovered by the animal, they are then, of course, in a very
unpleasant position.
Hitherto I have been able to help out the feeding of my sick with rice,
if bananas were short, but I can do so no more. What we still have
left we must keep for ourselves, for whether we shall get any more from
Europe is more than questionable.
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