“...I heard of some half-dozen L* who were anxious to visit their old
home, and would be willing to go with me; so, after procuring some
necessary articles in the shape of provisions and barter, I started from
our post at N*. It was the end of the dry season, and many of the
water-courses were quite dry, and during some days we even found the
lack of water somewhat trying. The first two days’ travelling was
through alternating forest and grass plain, our guides, as far as
possible, avoiding the villages.... Getting fresh guides from a little
village, we got into a region almost entirely forested, and later
descended into a gloomy valley still dripping from the rain. According
to our guides we should soon be through this, but it was not until the
afternoon of the second day after entering that we once more emerged
from the gloom. Several times we lost the track, and I had little
inclination to blame the guides, for several times the undergrowth and a
species of thorn palm were trodden down in all directions by the
elephants. It would seem to be a favourite hunting ground of theirs, and
once we got very close to a large herd who went off at a furious pace,
smashing down the small trees, trumpeting, and making altogether a most
terrifying noise. The second night in this forest we came across, when
looking for the track, a little village of runaways from the rubber
district. When assured of our friendliness they took us in and gave us
what shelter they could. During the night another tornado swept the
country and blew down a rotten tree, some branches of which fell in
amongst my tent and the little huts in which some of the boys were
sleeping. It was another most narrow escape.
“Early the next day we were conducted by one of the men of this village
to the right road, and very soon found ourselves travelling along a
track which had evidently been, at only a recent date, opened up by a
number of natives. ‘What was it?’ ‘Oh! it is the road along which we
used to carry rubber to the white men.’ ‘But why used to?’ ‘Oh, all the
people have either run away, or have been killed or died of starvation,
and so there is no one to get rubber any longer.’
“That day we made a very long march, being nearly nine and a-half hours
walking, and passing through several other large depopulated districts.
On all sides were signs of a very recent large population, but all was
as quiet as death, and buffaloes roamed at will amongst the still
growing manioc and bananas. It was a sad day, and when, as the sun was
setting, we came upon a large State post we were plunged into still
greater grief. True, there was a comfortable house at our service, and
houses for all the party; but we had not been long there before we found
that we had reached the centre of what was once a very thickly populated
region, known as C C*, from which many refugees in the neighbourhood of
G* had come. It was here a white man, known by the name of D E,
lived.... He came to the district, and, after seven months of diabolical
work, left it a waste. Some of the stories current about him are not fit
to record here, but the native evidence is so consistent and so
universal that it is difficult to disbelieve that murder and rapine on a
large scale were carried on here. His successor, a man of a different
nature, and much liked by the people, after more than two and a-half
years has succeeded in winning back to the side of the State post a few
natives, and there I saw them in their wretched little huts, hardly able
to call their lives their own in the presence of the new white man
(myself), whose coming among them had set them all a-wondering. From
this there was no fear of losing the track. For many miles it was a
broad road, from 6 to 10 feet in width, and wherever there was a
possibility of water settling logs were laid down. Some of these
viaducts were miles in length, and must have entailed immense labour;
whilst rejoicing in the great facility with which we could continue our
journey, we could not help picturing the many cruel scenes which, in all
probability, were a constant accompaniment to the laying of these huge
logs. I wish to emphasize as much as possible the desolation and
emptiness of the country we passed through. That it was only very
recently a well-populated country, and, as things go out here, rather
more densely than usual, was very evident. After a few hours we came to
a State rubber post. In nearly every instance these posts are most
imposing, some of them giving rise to the supposition that several white
men were residing in them. But in only one did we find a white man--the
successor of D E. At one place I saw lying about in the grass
surrounding the post, which is built on the site of several very large
towns, human bones, skulls, and, in some places, complete skeletons. On
inquiring the reason for this unusual sight: ‘Oh!’ said my informant,
‘When the bambote (soldiers) were sent to make us cut rubber there were
so many killed we got tired of burying, and sometimes when we wanted to
bury we were not allowed to.’
“‘But why did they kill you so?’
“‘Oh! sometimes we were ordered to go, and the sentry would find us
preparing food to eat while in the forest, and he would shoot two or
three to hurry us along. Sometimes we would try and do a little work on
our plantations, so that when the harvest time came we should have
something to eat, and the sentry would shoot some of us to teach us that
our business was not to plant but to get rubber. Sometimes we were
driven off to live for a fortnight in the forest without any food and
without anything to make a fire with, and many died of cold and hunger.
Sometimes the quantity brought was not sufficient, and then several
would be killed to frighten us to bring more. Some tried to run away,
and died of hunger and privation in the forest in trying to avoid the
State posts.’
“‘But,’ said I, ‘if the sentries killed you like that, what was the use?
You could not bring more rubber when there were fewer people.’
“‘Oh! as to that, we do not understand it. These are the facts.’
“And looking around on the scene of desolation, on the untended farms
and neglected palms, one could not but believe that in the main the
story was true. From State sentries came confirmation and particulars
even more horrifying, and the evidence of a white man as to the state of
the country--the unspeakable condition of the prisons at the State
posts--all combined to convince me over and over again that, during the
last seven years, this ‘domaine privé’ of King Leopold has been a
veritable ‘hell on earth.’
“The present régime seems to be more tolerable. A small payment is made
for the rubber now brought in. A little salt--say a pennyworth--for 2
kilogrammes of rubber, worth in Europe from 6 to 8 fr. The collection is
still compulsory, but, compared with what has gone before, the natives
consider themselves fairly treated. There is a coming together of
families and communities and the re-establishment of villages; but oh!
in what sadly diminished numbers, and with what terrible gaps in the
families.... Near a large State post we saw the only large and
apparently normal village we came across in all the three weeks we spent
in the district. One was able to form here some estimate of what the
population was before the advent of the white man and the search for
rubber....”
* * * * *
It will be observed that the devastated region whence had come the
refugees I saw at N*, comprises a part of the “Domaine de la Couronne.”
Inclosure 2 in No. 3.
(See p. 29.)
(A.)
_The Rev. J. Whitehead to Governor-General of Congo State._
Dear Sir,
_Baptist Missionary Society, Lukolela, July 28, 1903._
I HAVE the honour to acknowledge the receipt of the Circular and the
List of Questions respecting the sleep sickness sent through the Rev. J.
L. Forfeitt.
I hasten to do my best in reply, for the matter is of paramount
importance, and I trust that if I may seem to trespass beyond my limits
in stating my opinions in reference to this awful sickness and matters
kindred thereto, my zeal may be interpreted as arising from excessive
sorrow and sympathy for a disappearing people. I believe I shall be
discharging my duty to the State and His Majesty King Leopold II, whose
desire for the facts in the interests of humanity have long been
published, if I endeavour to express myself as clearly as I can
regarding the necessities of the natives of Lukolela.
The population of the villages of Lukolela in January 1891 must have
been not less than 6,000 people, but when I counted the whole population
in Lukolela at the end of December 1896 I found it to be only 719, and I
estimated from the decrease, as far as we could count up the number of
known deaths during the year, that at the same rate of decrease in ten
years the people would be reduced to about 400, but judge of my
heartache when on counting them all again on Friday and Saturday last to
find only a population of 352 people, and the death-rate rapidly
increasing. I note also a decrease very appallingly apparent in the
inland districts during the same number of years; three districts are
well-nigh swept out (these are near to the river), and others are
clearly diminished; so that if something is not soon done to give the
people heart and remove their fear and trembling (conditions which
generate fruitfully morbid conditions and proneness to attacks of
disease), doubtless the whole place will be very soon denuded of its
population. The pressure under which they live at present is crushing
them; the food which they sadly need themselves very often must, under
penalty, be carried to the State post, also grass, cane string, baskets
for the “caoutchouc” (the last three items do not appear to be paid
for); the “caoutchouc” must be brought in from the inland districts;
their Chiefs are being weakened in their prestige and physique through
imprisonment, which is often cruel, and thus weakened in their authority
over their own people, they are put into chains for the shortage of
manioc bread and “caoutchouc.”
In the riverine part of Lukolela we have done our very best as
non-official members of the State to cope with disease in every way
possible to us; but so far the officials of the State have never
attempted even the feeblest effort to assist the natives of Lukolela to
recover themselves or guard themselves in any way from disease. In times
of small-pox, when no time can be lost in the interests of the
community, I have, perhaps, gone sometimes beyond my rights as a private
citizen in dealing with it. But there has always been the greatest
difficulty in getting food for them (the patients) and nurses for them,
even when the people were not compelled to take their food supply to the
State post, but when food supplies and labour are compressed into one
channel all voluntary philanthropy is paralyzed. It is quite in vain for
us to teach these poor people the need of plenty of good food, for we
appear to them as those who mock; they point to the food which must be
taken to the post. A weekly tax of 900 brass rods’ worth of manioc bread
from 160 women, half of whom are not capable of much hard and continuous
work, does not leave much margin for them to listen to teaching
concerning personal attention in matters of food. At present they are
compelled to supply a number of workmen, and some of these are retained
after their terms are completed against their will; the villages need
the presence of their men, there are at present but eighty-two in the
villages of Lukolela, and I can see the shadow of death over nearly
twenty of them.[21]
The inland people and their Chiefs tremble when they must go down to the
river, so much has been done latterly to shake their confidence, and
this fear is not strengthening them physically, but undermining their
constitutions, such as they are. They hate the compulsory “caoutchouc”
business, and they naturally do their best to get away from it. If
something is not quickly done to give these timid and disheartened
people contentment and their home life assured to them, sickness will
speedily remove many, and those who remain will look upon the white man,
of whatever nation or position, as their natural enemy (it is not far
from that now). Some have already sworn to die, be killed, or anything
else rather than be forced to bring in “caoutchouc,” which spells
imprisonment and subsequent death to them; what they hear as having been
done they quite understand can be done to them, so they conclude they
may as well die first as last. The State has fought with them twice
already, if not more; but it is useless, they will not submit. A cave of
Adullam is a thing not always easily reckoned with.
May I be permitted to seize the present opportunity of respectfully
pleading on behalf of this people that their rights be respected, and
that the attention as of a father to his children be sympathetically
shown them? May I also be permitted to place before you a few
suggestions which have been impelled into my mind face to face with this
dying people of what is their need while medical inquiry goes forward,
please God, to master this terrible scourge? I suggest the following as
immediately needful for the riverine people:--
1. That the present small population of Lukolela be requested to vacate
the present site of their dwellings, and form a community on the
somewhat higher ground at present used for gardens, the soil of which
has been impoverished by years of manioc growing. This is known by the
name Ntomba; and that they be requested to clear the undergrowth on the
beach, the sites of their present dwellings, and plant bananas, &c.
2. That no one known to have sleep-sickness be permitted to dwell on the
new site; but all be removed to a site lower down the river; and that it
shall be the duty of the people to supply their sick with the necessary
food and caretakers. The islands are unsuitable, being uninhabitable for
a large part of the year.
3. That they be compelled to bury their dead at a considerable distance
from the dwellings, and to bury them in graves at least a fathom deep,
and not as at present in shallow graves in close proximity to the
houses.
4. That they be encouraged to build higher houses with more apertures
for the ingress of sunshine and air in the daytime, and with floors
considerably raised above the outside ground.
5. That a strong endeavour be made to get them to provide better latrine
arrangements.
6. That they be encouraged to give up eating and drinking together from
the same dish or vessel in common.
7. That the men be encouraged to follow their old practices of hunting,
fishing, blacksmithing, &c., and with the women care for their gardens
and homes, and that they be given every protection in these duties and
in the holding of their property against the State soldiers and workmen
and everybody else that wants to interfere with their rights.
8. All the foregoing they will not be able to do unless the present
compulsory method of acquiring their labour and their food by the State
is exchanged for a voluntary one.
9. That the Chiefs or present chief representatives of the deceased
Chiefs among whom the land was divided before the State came into
existence (I believe about three will be found at Lukolela itself) be
recognized as the executive of these matters, and that they be requested
to devote their levies (restored as of old) made on the produce, &c., of
their lands to the betterment of their towns and district, by making
roads through their lands, &c.
10. To appoint sentries to carry out either the above or any other
beneficent rules in any of the villages would be to endeavour to mend
the present deplorable condition with an evil a hundred-fold worse.
All the above suggestions adjusted to suit the locality are equally
applicable to the inland districts.