THE BAKALAI.
DISTRICTS INHABITED BY THE BAKALAI -- THEIR ROVING AND UNSETTLED
HABITS -- SKILL IN HUNTING -- DIET AND MODE OF COOKING -- A FISH
BATTUE -- CLEANLY HABITS OF THE BAKALAI -- FORBIDDEN MEATS -- CRUEL
TREATMENT OF THE SICK, AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE BAKALAI -- THEIR
IDOLS -- THE WOMEN AND THEIR RELIGIOUS RITES -- AN INTRUSION AND ITS
CONSEQUENCES -- THE “KEEN” OVER A DEAD PERSON.
The large and important tribe of the Bakalai inhabit a considerable
tract of country between the Equator and 2° S., and long. 10° to 13°
E. The land in which they dwell is not tenanted by themselves alone,
but they occupy so much space in it that it may fairly be called by
their name. They have a peculiar faculty for colonization, and have
extended their settlements in all directions, some being close to the
western coast, and others far to the east of the Ashangos. Of course,
their habits differ according to the kind of country in which they are
placed, but in all situations they are bold and enterprising, and never
fail to become masters of the district.
One clan or branch of this tribe, however, has abandoned these roving
habits, and has settled permanently at a place called Obindji, after
the chief of the clan. Being conveniently situated at the junction
of the Onenga and Ofouboa rivers, Obindji has a commanding position
for trade, and, having contracted an alliance with the great chief
Quengueza, carries on a prosperous commerce, ebony being their special
commodity. In concluding his alliance with them, Quengueza showed
his wisdom by insisting upon their maintaining peace with all their
neighbors, this indeed having been his policy throughout his life.
When Du Chaillu was passing along the Rembo River, Quengueza addressed
the porters who carried the goods, and gave them excellent advice,
which, if they would only have followed it, would have kept them clear
of many subsequent quarrels and misfortunes. He advised them never to
pick up bunches of plantain or nuts that might be lying on the road,
because those were only placed as a bait. Also, if told to catch and
kill goats or fowls, or to pluck fruit, they were to refuse, saying
that it was the duty of the host to supply the food, and not to set his
guests to fetch it for themselves. They were specially enjoined not to
enter other houses but those allotted to them, not to sit on strange
seats, and to keep clear of the women.
Obindji’s town showed clearly the character of the inhabitants. Bound
to keep the peace by the treaty with Quengueza, they were still
prepared against the incursions of inimical tribes. Usually, the houses
are made of bamboo, but those of Obindji had regular walls, made of
broad strips of bark lashed firmly to the bamboo uprights. When the
house is made of bamboo alone, the inhabitants can be seen nearly as
well as if they were birds in cages, and consequently the enemy can
shoot at them between the bars. In Obindji, however, the houses were
not only defended by the bark walls, but were further guarded by being
separated into two rooms, the inner chamber being that in which the
family sleep. So suspicious are they, that they never spread the couch
on the same spot for two successive nights.
Their great ambition seems to be the possession of the rivers, by
means of which they can traverse the country, make raids, or plant new
settlements in any promising spot. Thus all along the great river Rembo
are found districts inhabited by Bakalai, and each of the settlements
is sure to be the parent of other colonies on either bank. Moreover,
they are of strangely nomad habits, settling down for a time, and then
suddenly breaking up their village, taking away what portable stores
they can carry, abandoning the rest, and settling down like a flight
of locusts in some fresh spot. The causes for this curious habit are
several, but superstition is at the bottom of them all, as will be seen
when we come to that branch of the subject.
The complexion of the Bakalai is dark, but not black, and, as a rule,
they are of fair height and well made. They wear the usual grass
cloth as long as they cannot procure American or European goods, but,
whenever they can purchase a piece of cotton print, they will wear it
as long as it will hang together. Of washing it they seem to have no
conception, and to rags they have no objection. Neither do the Bakalai
wash themselves. Those who live on the banks of the river swim like
ducks, and, as their aquatic excursions often end in a capsize, they
are perforce washed in the stream. But washing in the light of ablution
is never performed by them, and those who live inland, and have no
river, never know the feeling of water on their oily bodies.
On account of their migratory habits, they have but little personal
property, concentrating all their wealth in the one article of wives.
A Bakalai will go to hunt, an art in which he is very expert, and will
sell the tusks, skins, and horns for European goods. As soon as he has
procured this wealth, he sets off to buy a new wife with it, and is not
very particular about her age, so that she be young. A girl is often
married when quite a child, and in that case she lives with her parents
until she has reached the marriageable age, which in that country is
attained at a very early period.
In consequence of this arrangement, children are eagerly expected, and
joyfully welcomed when they make their appearance. As a rule, African
women are not prolific mothers, so that a wife who has several children
is held in the highest estimation as the producer of valuable property,
and carries things with a high hand over her husband and his other
wives. The ideas of consanguinity are very curious among the Bakalai.
A man will not marry a wife who belongs to the same village or clan as
himself, and yet, if a man dies, his son takes his wives as a matter
of course, and, if he has no son old enough to do so, they pass to
his brother. Slaves also constitute part of a Bakalai’s property, and
are kept, not so much for the purpose of doing their master’s work,
which is little enough, but as live stock, to be sold to the regular
slave-dealers whenever a convenient opportunity may occur.
The principal food of the Bakalai is the cassava or manioc, which is
prepared so that it passes into the acid state of fermentation, and
becomes a sour, but otherwise flavorless mess. The chief advantage of
this mode of preparation is, that it will keep from six weeks or two
months, and at the end of that time is no nastier than it was when
comparatively fresh. They have also a singularly unpleasant article of
diet called njavi oil. It is made from the seeds of the njavi, one of
the large forest trees of the country, and is prepared by first boiling
the seed, then crushing it on a board, and lastly squeezing out the
oil in the hand. Much oil is wasted by this primitive process, and
that which is obtained is very distasteful to European palates, the
flavor resembling that of scorched lard. It is chiefly used in cooking
vegetables, and is also employed for the hair, being mixed with an
odoriferous powder, and plastered liberally on their woolly heads. It
is principally with this oil that the skin is anointed, a process which
is really needful for those who wear no clothing in such a climate.
Palm oil is sometimes employed for the same purpose, but it is too dear
to be in general use. Even the natives cannot endure a very long course
of this manioc, and, when they have been condemned to eat nothing but
vegetable food for several weeks, have a positive craving for meat, and
will do anything to procure it.
This craving after animal food sometimes becomes almost a disease.
It is known by the name of gouamba, and attacks both white and black
men alike. Quengueza himself was occasionally subject to it, and was
actually found weeping with the agony of gouamba, a proceeding which
seems absurd and puerile to those who have never been subjected to the
same affliction. Those who suffer from it become positive wild beasts
at the sight of meat, which they devour with an eagerness that is
horrible to witness. Even M. du Chaillu, with all his guns and other
means of destroying game, occasionally suffered from gouamba, which he
describes as “real and frightful torture.”
The Bakalai do not think of breeding their goats and chickens for food,
their wandering habits precluding them from either agriculture or
pastoral pursuits, and they are obliged, therefore, to look to fishing
and hunting for a supply of animal food. The former of these pursuits
is principally carried on during the dry season, when the waters of the
river have receded, and pools have been left on the plains. To those
pools the Bakalai proceed in numbers, men, women, and children taking
part in the work. Each is furnished with a pot or bowl, with which they
bail out the water until the fish are left struggling in the mud. The
whole party then rush in, secure the fish, and take them home, when a
large portion is consumed on the spot, but the greater quantity dried
in the smoke and laid up for future stores. (See illustration p. 486.)
Savages as they are, the Bakalai are very cleanly in their cooking,
as is mentioned by M. du Chaillu. “The Bakalai were cooking a meal
before setting out on their travels. It is astonishing to see the
neatness with which these savages prepare their food. I watched some
women engaged in boiling plantains, which form the bread of all this
region. One built a bright fire between two stones. The others peeled
the plantains, then carefully washed them--just as a clean white cook
would--and, cutting them in several pieces, put them in the earthen
pot. This was then filled with water, covered over with leaves, over
which were placed the banana peelings, and then the pot was put on
the stones to boil. Meat they had not, but roasted a few ground-nuts
instead; but the boiled plantains they ate with great quantities of
Cayenne pepper.” From this last circumstance, it is evident that the
Bakalai do not share in the superstitious notion about red pepper which
has been lately mentioned.
With all this cleanliness in cooking, they are so fond of animal food
that they will eat it when almost falling to pieces with decomposition.
And, in spite of their love for it, there is scarcely any kind of meat
which is not prohibited to one family or another, or at all events to
some single individual. For example, when one of the party has shot a
wild bull (_Bos brachiceros_), their principal chief or king refused to
touch the flesh, saying that it was “roonda,” or prohibited to himself
and his family, because, many generations back, a woman of his family
had given birth to a calf. Another family was prohibited from eating
the flesh of the crocodile, for similar reasons. So careful are the
Bakalai on this subject that even their love for meat fails before
their dread of the “roonda,” and a man will sooner die of starvation
than eat the prohibited food. Of course, this state of things is
singularly inconvenient. The kindred prohibitions of Judaism and
Mahometanism are trying enough, especially to travellers, who cannot
expect any great choice of food. But, as in the latter cases, the
prohibited articles are invariably the same, there is little difficulty
about the commissariat.
Among the Bakalai, however, if the traveller should happen to employ a
party of twenty men, he may find that each man has some “roonda” which
will not permit him to join his comrades at their repast. One man, for
example, may not eat monkey’s flesh, while another is prohibited to eat
pork, and a third is forbidden to touch the hippopotamus, or some other
animal. So strict is the law of “roonda,” that a man will often refuse
to eat anything that has been cooked in a kettle which may once have
held the forbidden food.
This brings us naturally to other superstitions, in which the Bakalai
seem to be either peculiarly rich, or to have betrayed more of their
religious system than strangers can generally learn from savages. The
usual amount of inconsistency is found in their religion, if we may
dignify with such a name a mere string of incongruous superstitions. In
the first place, there is nothing which they dread so much as death,
which they believe to be the end of all life; and yet they have a
nearly equal fear of ghosts and spirits, which they believe to haunt
the woods after dark.
This fear of death is one of their principal inducements to shift their
dwellings. If any one dies in a village, Death is thought to have taken
possession of the place, and the inhabitants at once abandon it, and
settle down in another spot. The prevalence of this idea is the cause
of much cruelty toward the sick and infirm, who are remorselessly
driven from the villages, lest they should die, and so bring death into
the place.
M. du Chaillu gives a very forcible illustration of this practice. “I
have twice seen old men thus driven out, nor could I persuade any one
to give comfort and shelter to these friendless wretches. Once, an old
man, poor and naked, lean as death himself, and barely able to walk,
hobbled into a Bakalai village, where I was staying. Seeing me, the
poor old fellow came to beg some tobacco--their most cherished solace.
I asked him where he was going.
“‘I don’t know.’
“‘Where are you from?’
“He mentioned a village a few miles off.
“‘Have you no friends there?’
“‘None.’
“‘No son, no daughter, no brother, no sister?’
“‘None.’
“‘You are sick?’
“‘They drove me away for that.’
“‘What will you do?’
“‘Die!’
“A few women came up to him and gave him water and a little food, but
the men saw death in his eyes. They drove him away. He went sadly, as
though knowing and submitting to his fate. A few days after, his poor
lean body was found in the wood. His troubles were ended.”
This is the “noble savage,” whose unsophisticated virtues have been so
often lauded by those who have never seen him, much less lived with him.
The terror which is felt at the least suspicion of witchcraft often
leads to bloody and cruel actions. Any one who dies a natural death,
or is killed by violence, is thought to have been bewitched, and the
first object of his friends is to find out the sorcerer. There was in
a Bakalai village a little boy, ten years of age, who was accused of
sorcery. The mere accusation of a crime which cannot be disproved is
quite enough in this land, and the population of the village rushed on
the poor little boy, and cut him to pieces with their knives. They
were positively mad with rage, and did not cool down for several hours
afterward.
The prevalence of this superstition was a sad trial to M. du Chaillu
when he was seized with a fever. He well knew that his black friends
would think that he had been bewitched, and, in case of his death,
would be sure to pounce upon some unlucky wretch, and put him to a
cruel death as a wizard. Indeed, while he was ill one of his men
took up the idea of witchcraft, and at night paraded the village,
threatening to kill the sorcerer who had bewitched his master.
Idolatry is carried on here, as in most heathen countries, by dancing,
drumming, and singing, neither the songs nor dances being very decent
in their character. One of the chief idols of the Bakalai was in the
keeping of Mbango, the head of a clan. The image is made of wood, and
represents a grotesque female figure, nearly of the size of life. Her
eyes are copper, her feet are cloven like those of a deer, one cheek is
yellow, the other red, and a necklace of leopard’s teeth hangs round
her neck. She is a very powerful idol, speaks on great occasions, and
now and then signifies approbation by nodding her head. Also she eats
meat when it is offered to her, and, when she has exhibited any of
those tokens of power, she is taken into the middle of the street, so
that all the people may assemble and feast their eyes on the wooden
divinity.
Besides the ordinary worship of the idol, the women have religious
ceremonies of their own, which strangely remind the reader of the
ancient mysteries related by sundry classic authors. To one of these
ceremonies M. du Chaillu became a spectator in rather an unexpected
manner.
“One day the women began their peculiar worship of Njambai, which it
seems is their good spirit: and it is remarkable that all the Bakalai
clans, and all the females of tribes I have met during my journeys,
worship or venerate a spirit with this same name. Near the sea-shore it
is pronounced Njembai, but it is evidently the same.
“This worship of the women is a kind of mystery, no men being admitted
to the ceremonies, which are carried on in a house very carefully
closed. This house was covered with dry palm and banana leaves, and
had not even a door open to the street. To make all close, it was set
against two other houses, and the entrance was through one of these.
Quengueza and Mbango warned me not to go near this place, as not even
they were permitted so much as to take a look. All the women of the
village painted their faces and bodies, beat drums, marched about the
town, and from time to time entered the idol house, where they danced
all one night, and made a more outrageous noise than even the men had
made before. They also presented several antelopes to the goddess, and
on the fourth all but a few went off into the woods to sing to Njambai.
“I noticed that half-a-dozen remained, and in the course of the morning
entered the Njambai house, where they stayed in great silence. Now my
curiosity, which had been greatly excited to know what took place in
this secret worship, finally overcame me. I determined to see. Walking
several times up and down the street past the house to allay suspicion,
I at last suddenly pushed aside some of the leaves, and stuck my head
through the wall. For a moment I could distinguish nothing in the
darkness. Then I beheld three perfectly naked old hags sitting on the
clay floor, with an immense bundle of greegrees before them, which they
seemed to be silently adoring.
“When they saw me they at once set up a hideous howl of rage, and
rushed out to call their companions from the bush; in a few minutes
these came hurrying in, crying and lamenting, rushing toward me with
gestures of anger, and threatening me for my offence. I quickly reached
my house, and, seizing my gun in one hand and a revolver in the other,
told them I would shoot the first one that came inside my door. The
house was surrounded by above three hundred infuriated women, every one
shouting out curses at me, but the sight of my revolver kept them back.
They adjourned presently for the Njambai house, and from there sent a
deputation of the men, who were to inform me that I must pay for the
palaver I had made.
“This I peremptorily refused to do, telling Quengueza and Mbango that I
was there a stranger, and must be allowed to do as I pleased, as their
rules were nothing to me, who was a white man and did not believe in
their idols. In truth, if I had once paid for such a transgression as
this, there would have been an end of all travelling for me, as I often
broke through their absurd rules without knowing it, and my only course
was to declare myself irresponsible.
“However, the women would not give up, but threatened vengeance, not
only on me, but on all the men of the town; and, as I positively
refused to pay anything, it was at last, to my great surprise,
determined by Mbango and his male subjects that they would make up from
their own possessions such a sacrifice as the women demanded of me.
Accordingly Mbango contributed ten fathoms of native cloth, and the men
came one by one and put their offerings on the ground; some plates,
some knives, some mugs, some beads, some mats, and various other
articles. Mbango came again, and asked if I too would not contribute
something, but I refused. In fact, I dared not set such a precedent. So
when all had given what they could, the whole amount was taken to the
ireful women, to whom Mbango said that I was his and his men’s guest,
and that they could not ask me to pay in such a matter, therefore
they paid the demand themselves. With this the women were satisfied,
and there the quarrel ended. Of course I could not make any further
investigations into their mysteries. The Njambai feast lasts about
two weeks. I could learn very little about the spirit which they call
by this name. Their own ideas are quite vague. They know only that it
protects the women against their male enemies, avenges their wrongs,
and serves them in various ways if they please it.”
The superstitions concerning death even extend to those cases where
a man has been killed by accident. On one occasion, a man had been
shot while bathing, whereupon the whole tribe fell into a panic,
thought that the village had been attacked by witches, and straightway
abandoned it. On their passage to some more favored spot, they halted
for the night at another village, and at sunset they all retired to
their huts, and began the mournful chant with which they celebrate the
loss of their friends. The women were loud in their lamentations, as
they poured out a wailing song which is marvellously like the “keen” of
the Irish peasantry:--
“You will never speak to us any more!
“We cannot see your face any more!
“You will never walk with us again!
“You will never again settle our palavers for us!”
And so on, _ad libitum_. In fact, the lives of the Bakalai, which
might be so joyous and free of care, are quite embittered by the
superstitious fears which assail them on every side.