THE COMING OF BOKAKALA
At home again—I choose a wife—How I went courting—And was
married—My visits to the white men—They talk of “one Jesus”—The
other white man, Bokakala—He wants rubber—We are eager to get
it—How rubber was collected—The rubber market—“We did not know.”
After I got back home, it was some little time before we all settled
down again to the old ways. As I said, there was much rejoicing,
accompanied by feasting and dancing, and then when that was over, I had
to visit many friends, while others came to visit me.
We all enjoyed the feasting and soon got strong and well again, some of
us quite stout; but it was not long before we got tired of answering so
many inquiries, and listening to so many comments; so off we went into
the forest to cut bamboos and reeds for thatching, and trees for
building, and set to work to build new houses for ourselves. It was
soon settled that the family who had come with us from the cannibal
country should remain in our village, so the husband started building a
house for them not far from ours.
As time went on I began to think it would be a good thing to get
married, and as my father was quite ready to find the riches I should
need to pass over to the father of my chosen wife, I did not lose any
time in making known my wishes to her.
Her name was Bamatafe, and she was considered very beautiful. Her skin
was of a light brown colour, and decorated all over in various patterns
of cicatrised cuttings, and when well rubbed with palm oil and camwood
powder would shine in the sun. She was usually dressed in a wild-cat
skin and fresh plantain leaves frayed out at the edges and suspended
from a string of blue beads round the waist. Her hair was dressed in
our most beautiful style—called besíngya—that is, all the hair is
divided into very small portions, each of which is rolled in oil
sprinkled plentifully with red camwood powder and another kind of
sweet-smelling powder made from nuts. Her eyes were black, and her
teeth were chiseled to very sharp points.
Such was the girl I loved; and now that you know what she looked like,
can you wonder that I wanted her?
But of course I had to find out if she were willing to come to me, so I
determined to pay a few visits to her home.
On the first occasion I simply passed by and looked at her as she was
sitting in her father’s house; but I went again, and, drawing near, I
said to her, “Bamatafe, o l’eko?” (salutation, “Are you there?”) to
which she answered, “I am there; Are you there?” and I said “O yes!”
I felt very encouraged after that interview, and the next time stayed
and talked with her for a while; then when a few days had passed I
carried her a fine fat hen for a present. When she accepted that I knew
it was all right for me, she was agreeable.
I immediately went and told my father about it, and he arranged with
hers about the amount of riches which was to be paid as pledge money on
the occasion of our marriage. A spear was passed over as earnest of the
other things to come, and that evening I brought home my wife.
Her beauty was greatly admired, and according to our custom I had to
make a lot of presents to the people who admired her so much. Every one
of the young men thought me very fortunate in securing such a beautiful
wife. And I soon found that she was clever also, for she could cook
well; and at once she set about planting a big garden, which showed
that she was industrious.
We settled down to village life then—building houses, making canoes and
other things, getting our knives, spears, and ornaments made by the
village blacksmith, hunting, fishing, palaver talking, paying and
receiving visits, having a good time generally, and feeling so glad to
be really free—free from bondage and servitude.
I often paid visits to the white men of whom we had heard so many
rumours on the other side of the river, and became quite friendly with
them. I could not quite understand them: their words were good
certainly, but they said they had come to our land simply to tell us
those words, and not to get anything from us.
Naturally that seemed strange to me—our people always want to get and
not to give—“but then,” thought I, “there is no accounting for people
who are such freaks as to have white skins; perhaps it is their way;
and if so, what more?” They were always talking about one Jesus, who
was very good and kind and loved us, and who they say died and rose
again and is now alive. That was too much! Who ever saw a person rise
from death, and if He were alive and really cared for us, why did He
himself not come and see us? So we said, “When we see Him, we will
believe.” Of course, it is only nsao (legend or fable).
We went to see them, and took them an egg or a chicken, or perhaps a
little manioca now and then, and listened to their words and heard them
sing, and we always came away thinking what wonderful people they were,
and how much wisdom they had.
And then there came to our district another white man, and he built a
house not far from the compound of these white men of God, and settled
down there. At first we thought that he and the other white men were
brothers: all had white faces and straight hair like monkeys; they
seemed friendly and helped each other, and we never saw them fight or
quarrel as we so often do. But after a while we saw that there was a
difference, for the new white man called a palaver, and our chiefs
gathered together from all the villages around the district, and, of
course, many of us young men went with them to hear what it was all
about.
It was this: the new white man—we called him Bokakala—had come to live
with us because he had heard that in our forest grew the rubber vine in
abundance, and he wanted rubber—plenty of it. Not only so, but would
pay for it—brass rods, beads, salt! Now would the chiefs get it for
him? Would they be willing to send their young men into the forest to
collect the rubber sap? And would the young men go?
Oh, how we laughed! How we danced! Who ever heard of placing any value
on the rubber plant except for the fruit to eat? Fancy getting
salt—white man’s salt—just for bringing rubber! Of course we would go
and get it. Could we not start at once?
Then Bokakala got out some baskets to give us to put the rubber in, and
there was such a scramble for those baskets—we almost fought as to who
should get the first chance of possessing a rubber basket.
The white man seemed pleased, and gave presents to the chiefs; and we
were pleased, anxious to get off at once, at the first possible minute,
to search for rubber, to obtain for ourselves some of that wonderful
salt from Europe. We had already tasted it, and once tasted, there is
nothing else that will satisfy the desire for it.
Away into the forest we went—not far, for there was plenty of rubber in
those days—and were soon busy making incisions in the vines and
catching the drops of sap as they fell in little pots or calabashes
ready to bring it home with us in the evening. There was great rivalry
amongst us as to who could get the largest quantity. Then when we
thought we had sufficient we returned to our homes with it and sought
for the plant with which it must be mixed in order for it to coagulate.
This grows in great quantities near many of our villages, and we call
it bekaaku. Having mixed the two saps they formed a substance solid
enough to make into balls about the size of a rubber fruit. These,
packed into the baskets which the white man had given us, were ready
for carrying to him.
When we took our well-filled baskets and presented them at his house
Bokakala was much pleased, and we wondered that any man should be so
easily satisfied, for we could not understand of what use the rubber
could be to him. However, he gave us salt and beads, and if we gained
by his foolishness, why should we object?
We continued to take him rubber, and in course of time a special day
was set apart (the fifth day of the white man’s week) on which rubber
was to be brought regularly, and that day soon came to be called by us
mbile e’otofe (rubber day), and is so called to the present time.
Week after week the rubber market was held, and Bokakala was good to
us—he gave us salt, cloth, and beads in exchange for what we brought;
he talked and chatted with us, settled our palavers for us, taught us
many things, and even named some of our children after himself and gave
them presents.
In those days we had no palaver with Bokakala; it was after he left us
that trouble began. Many times since we have regretted that we welcomed
Bokakala as we did because of what happened afterwards, but at the
beginning he treated us well, and we did not know what would follow.
Perhaps he did not know either, but it seems to us that we made our
great mistake in accepting his first offers. We were tempted and fell
into a trap; but we say to ourselves over and over again when we think
and speak of those times, “It was all right at first, but WE DID NOT
KNOW.”