PART I

DAWN IN DARKEST AFRICA

[Illustration: MUSHAMALENGI, “A ROYAL PRINCE” OF THE BAKUBA KINGDOM IN

THE UPPER KASAI.

_Frontispiece._]

DAWN IN DARKEST

AFRICA

BY

JOHN H. HARRIS

WITH AN INTRODUCTION

BY

THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CROMER

O.M., G.C.B., G.C.M.G., K.C.S.I.

_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP_

LONDON

SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE

1912

_All rights reserved_

PRINTED BY

WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED

LONDON AND BECCLES

INTRODUCTION

BY THE EARL OF CROMER

I have been asked to write a short introduction to this book, and I have

no hesitation in complying with the request.

Although the high motives and disinterested devotion which inspire

missionary and philanthropic effort are very generally recognized, there

is often a predisposition—more frequently felt than expressed—not only

amongst responsible officials but also in the minds of no inconsiderable

portion of the public to accept with some reserve both the accuracy of

the facts and the soundness of the conclusions emanating wholly from

these sources. This scepticism, provided it be not allowed to degenerate

into unworthy prejudice, is not merely healthy but even commendable. I

could mention cases within my own knowledge where missionary zeal was

certainly allowed to outrun discretion. It is the duty of responsible

officials to be sceptical in such matters. Whilst sympathizing with

humanitarians they should endeavour to remedy whatever of quixotism is

to be found in their suggestions; and to guide those from whom those

suggestions emanate along a path calculated to ensure the achievement

of their objects by the adoption of practical methods which will be

consonant with the moral and material interests of the Empire at large.

Occasional errors, the result of unchecked enthusiasm in a noble cause,

cannot, however, for one moment be allowed to outweigh the immense

benefits conferred on civilization by missionary and philanthropic

agencies. Nowhere have these benefits been more conspicuous than in the

case of the Congo.

The fact that but a few years ago the administration of the Congo was a

disgrace to civilized Europe is now so fully recognized, not only in this

country, but also—to the honour of the Belgians be it said—in Belgium

itself, that it is scarcely necessary to labour the point. One startling

fact is sufficient to demonstrate its true character. According to an

estimate made by Sir Reginald Wingate,[1] the population of the Soudan

under the Mahdi’s rule was reduced from 8,525,000 to 1,870,500 persons;

in other words over 75 per cent. of the inhabitants died from disease

or were killed in external or internal wars. The civilized European who

for some years presided over the destinies of the Congo was no more

merciful, save as a matter of percentage, than the ignorant and fanatical

Dervish at Khartoum. Mr. Harris states (p. 208) that, under the régime

of King Leopold, the Congo population was reduced from 20,000,000 to

8,000,000.[2] More than this. It is generally impossible in the long run

to pronounce a complete divorce between moral and material interests. It

will, therefore, be no matter for surprise that the Leopoldian policy was

as unsuccessful from an economic as it was from an humanitarian point

of view. It is now clear that unbridled company-mongering has gone far

to destroy the sources of wealth to which it owed its birth. Mr. Harris

tells a piteous tale of the manner in which the rubber vines have been

handled, and, generally of the condition of the plantations. Neither,

having regard to the wanton destruction of elephants (p. 213) does ivory

appear to have been much more tenderly treated than rubber.

Even the most hardened sceptic as regards the utility of missionary

enterprise will not, I think, be prepared to deny that to the

Missionaries, in conjunction with Mr. Morel, the main credit accrues

of having brought home to the British public, and eventually to the

public of Europe, the iniquities which, but a short time ago, were being

practised under European sanction in the heart of Africa.

Amongst this devoted band, many of whom have paid with their lives the

heavy toll which cruel Africa exacts, none have been more steadfast in

their determination to insist on the reform of the Congo administration

than the writer of this book—Mr. Harris. None, moreover, have brought

a more evenly-balanced mind to bear on the numerous problems which

perplex the African administrator. Mr. Harris may be an enthusiast,

but of this I am well convinced—both by frequent personal intercourse

and from a careful perusal of his work—that his enthusiasm is tempered

by reason and by a solid appreciation of the difference between the

ideal and the practical. He wisely (p. 35) deprecates undue Missionary

interference with local customs. He has even something (pp. 58-60) to say

in palliation of polygamy, and if I rightly understand his remarks on p.

154, he does not utterly exclude a resort to forced labour under certain

conditions and under certain circumstances.

Moreover, in so far as my experience enables me to form an opinion, Mr.

Harris has acquired a firm grasp of the main principles which should

guide Europeans who are called upon to rule over a backward and primitive

society, and of the fact that prolonged neglect of those principles

must sooner or later lead to failure or even disaster. He writes as a

fair-minded and thoroughly well-informed observer. Throughout his pages

may be found many acute observations on the various problems which, in

forms more or less identical, tax the ingenuity of the governing race

wherever the white and the coloured man meet as ruler and subject.

Notably Mr. Harris dwells (p. 67) on the great influence exerted by the

example set by officials; this example, he thinks—most rightly in my

opinion—is more important than the issue of laws and decrees. Here, he

says—and I quote the passage with regret—“is where the Belgian and French

Congo officials have failed so utterly.” To put the matter in another,

and somewhat mathematical, form, I have always held that 75 per cent. of

the influence of British officials for good depends on character, and

only 25 per cent. on brains. Mistakes arising from defective intelligence

will generally admit to being rectified. Those which are due to defects

of character are more often irremediable. My belief is that the great

and well-deserved success which has attended Sir Reginald Wingate’s

administration of the Soudan arises in no small degree from a recognition

of this common-place, and from its practical application in the choice

of officials. I am not sure that its importance is always adequately

recognized in London. It is well to encourage the importation of cocoa

and palm oil into the London market. But it is better to acquire the

reputation, which (p. 280) Mr. Harris says has passed into a proverb in

the Congo, that “the Englishman never lies.”

For these reasons I have no hesitation in recommending this book to the

public. Mr. Harris’ facts may perhaps be called in question by others

possessing greater local knowledge than any to which I can pretend. His

conclusions—notably those in his final chapter in which he re-arranges

the map of Africa in a somewhat daring spirit—manifestly admit of wide

differences of opinion. But he speaks with a unique knowledge of his

subject. The opportunities which, with praiseworthy zeal, he and his

devoted companion made for themselves to acquire a real knowledge of

African affairs has been exceptional. He has thus produced a book in

which the ordinary reader cannot fail to be interested if it is only by

reason of the vivid and picturesque account it gives of African life and

travel, and in which those who have paid special attention to African

administration will find many useful indications of the directions in

which their efforts towards reform may best be applied. Whatever may

be thought of some of Mr. Harris’ suggestions, it cannot but be an

advantage, more especially now that attention is being more and more

drawn to African affairs, that the Government, Parliament, and the

general public should learn what one so eminently qualified as Mr. Harris

to instruct them in the facts of the case has to say on the subject.

Mr. Harris is not sparing in his criticisms, neither does he withhold

praise when he considers it is due. Whilst strongly condemning the

slavery—for such it virtually is—that the Government of Portugal permits

in its Colonies, he dwells (p. 296) on the “kindly nature” of the

Portuguese themselves, and significantly adds “there is no colour-bar

in the Portuguese dominions.”[3] He appears to find little to commend

in French administration, and much (pp. 90 and 91) to condemn in their

commercial policy. He does justice (p. 88) to the thoroughness and

wisdom of the Germans in all matters connected with trade, and does not,

as I venture to think, detract from the merits of the liberal policy

which they have adopted by alluding to the fact that it is based on

self-interested motives. On the other hand, he strongly condemns (p.

142) the German treatment of the natives. He dwells (p. 92) on the petty

and vexatious obstacles placed in the way of a trade by the Belgian

officials of the Congo, of which “even Belgian merchants complain,” and

he has, of course, little to say in favor of Belgian administration in

other respects. But he has the fairness to admit (p. 209) that since

the annexation of the Congo by Belgium the death rate has diminished

and the birth rate increased—a fact which, after the experiences of the

Leopoldian régime, appears to me to be very eloquent, and to reflect much

credit on the Belgian Government. Moreover, he tells us that “wherever

the Belgian reforms have been most completely applied, there the ravages

of sleeping sickness appear to be more or less checked.”

These observations are interesting, as they enable a comparison to be

made with the results obtained under different systems of government, but

they deal with matters for which—save to a limited degree in the Congo,

and also perhaps to some slight extent as regards the continuance of

slavery in the Portuguese possessions—neither the British Government nor

the British nation are in any degree responsible. The internal policy to

be adopted in the African territories possessed by France and Germany is

a matter solely for the consideration of Frenchmen and Germans. But Mr.

Harris has a good deal to say about the conduct of affairs in British

African possessions, and it will be well if public attention is directed

to his remarks in this connection, lest having preached to others we may

ourselves become castaways.

Mr. Harris’ position is so completely detached that he may, without

the least hesitation, be acquitted of any desire to exalt unduly the

achievements of his own countrymen. The spirit in which he writes is

not national, but cosmopolitan. Moreover, he is manifestly not greatly

enamoured of the proceedings of some, at all events, of the British

officials. For these reasons his testimony is all the more valuable when

he speaks, as is frequently the case, in terms of warm praise of the

successful results which have been attained under British administration.

He says it is not only the best in West Central Africa, but that the

natives themselves recognize that it is the best. This testimony is

all the more satisfactory because the excellence of British rule has

not been always fully recognized in those circles in which Mr. Harris

principally moves. “With inherent instinct,” he says (p. 257), “the

British Government recognizes that the real asset of the Colony (_i.e._

the Gold Coast Colony) is the indigenous inhabitant, whose material and

moral progress is not only the first, but the truest interest of the

State.” It is by proceeding on this sound principle that the natives

have been kept in possession of the land. “The almost phenomenal success

of the cocoa industry in the British Colony of the Gold Coast,” Mr.

Harris says (p. 161), “is due entirely to the fact that the natives are

the proprietors of the cocoa farms.” It is also by the adoption of this

principle that it has been possible to solve the thorny labour question.

“The native farmers of Southern Nigeria and the Gold Coast employ a good

deal of native labour and generally speaking find little difficulty in

obtaining all they want” (p. 262).[4] Mr. Harris claims (p. 264) that

the economic will be no less satisfactory than the moral results of the

liberal policy which has been adopted by Great Britain, and that “the

indigenous industry of the British Colonies working in its own interests,

unencumbered by the heavy cost of European supervision and the drawbacks

of imported contract labour, will, under the guidance of a paternal and

sympathetic administration, certainly outdistance and leave far behind in

the race of supremacy such systems as those which prevail in San Thomé

and Principe.” I trust, and I also believe, that Mr. Harris will prove to

be a true prophet.

It is, moreover, the adoption of the principle to which I have alluded

above which enabled an American Bishop (p. 109) to characterize as “just

marvellous” the way in which the English are “covering the Continent with

educated natives,” and I am particularly glad he was able to add “with

carpenters, bricklayers, and engineers.”

In spite, however, of the unstinted praise which Mr. Harris has to bestow

and which makes it clear that, broadly speaking, we may legitimately

be proud of what our countrymen, both official and non-official, have

accomplished in Western Africa, he indicates certain defects in the

administration, some of which appear to me to be well worthy of the

attention of the responsible authorities.

In the first place, he says (p. 125) that “between the British official

class and the merchant community a great gulf is fixed.”[5] If this is

the case, there would certainly appear to be something wrong. There ought

to be no such gulf. But as I presume there is an official side to the

case, which I have never heard, I do not presume to pronounce any opinion

on the merits of the point at issue. Neither is it altogether pleasant

to read the episode related on p. 151. It is clearly not right to march

into a church whilst service is going on, impound a number of carriers

and “insist on a native clergyman carrying a box containing whisky.” One

may charitably hope that the facts of the case were not quite accurately

reported to Mr. Harris.

In the absence of adequate local knowledge I cannot pursue the discussion

of this branch of the subject any further, but there is one observation

I should wish to make. There cannot be a greater mistake than to employ

underpaid officials in the outlying dominions of the Crown. We do not

want the worst, or even the second best of our race to prosecute the

Imperial policy to which we are wedded as a necessity of our national

existence. The work presents so many difficulties of various descriptions

that if we are to succeed we must impound into the British service the

best elements which our race can produce, and, as I am well aware, even

when their services are obtained and every care has been taken, mistakes

will sometimes occur in making appointments. And if we want the best

material we must pay the best price for it. Men of the required type

will not submit to all the privations and discomforts, not to speak of

the dangers of an African career unless they are adequately remunerated.

I know well from bitter experience the difficulties attendant on paying

high salaries out of an impoverished, and even out of a semi-bankrupt

Treasury. And I also know the criticisms to which, notably in these

democratic days, the payment of high salaries is exposed. My answer to

the first of these objections is that if the Treasury cannot afford to

give adequate salaries to its European agents it is, on all grounds,

wiser to diminish the amount of European agency, or even to dispense with

it altogether. My own experience has led me to prefer infinitely the

employment of two efficient men on £500 a year to that of four doubtfully

efficient men on £250. My answer to the second objection is that those

who plead against high salaries are generally very ill-informed of the

facts with which they are dealing, and that, if ever there was a case

when Government, being better informed, should resist a hasty expression

of public opinion, it is this.

Are the British agents employed in subordinate positions in Africa

adequately paid? From all I have heard I have considerable doubts whether

they are so. In dealing with this subject, I have heard it sometimes

said: “Candidates are plentiful. If we can get a man on £250 a year or

less, why should we give him £500?” I consider this argument not merely

pernicious but ridiculous. It would never be used by any one who has

been brought face to face with the difficulties which have actually

to be encountered. Its application in practice is liable to lead to

very serious consequences in the shape of loss of national credit, and

possibly in other and even more serious directions.

Turning to another point, I notice (p. 120) that Mr. Harris states that

coloured men are practically debarred from entering the medical service

in the West African Colonies, and absolutely in the Gold Coast. If so,

I can only say that this regulation contrasts unfavourably with the

procedure adopted in other British possessions of which the inhabitants

are coloured, and adopted, moreover, without, so far as I am aware, the

production of any inconvenience. Possibly there are some special reasons,

with which I am unacquainted, which apply to West Africa, but they must

be very strong to justify a course so little in harmony with the general

practice and policy of the British Government elsewhere.

Mr. Harris deals fully with the subject of education, and in his fifth

chapter chivalrously defends the cause of that much-abused individual

the “educated native,” whose merits and demerits seem to present a

striking identity of character whether his residence be on the banks of

the Ganges, the Nile, or the Congo. The old complaint with which Indian

administrators are so familiar, that the education afforded is too purely

literary, re-appears in West Africa. Mr. Harris, however, dwells with

justifiable pride (p. 109) on the number of carpenters, bricklayers and

other mechanics turned out of the Mission Schools, and (p. 112) he most

rightly insists on the importance of extending “that largely neglected

branch of education—practical agriculture.” He suggests that a Commission

should be appointed “to study the whole question of the education of the

African peoples in British Equatorial possessions, with the object of

ascertaining how far the Government may be able to secure a more even

balance between the literary and technical training of natives, and how

far it may be possible to so re-adjust existing systems as to avoid

denationalization.”

My confidence in the results obtained by appointing Royal Commissions is

limited, but they afford a useful machinery for classifying facts and

sifting evidence, and thus provide some safeguard against the risk, which

is nowhere more conspicuous than in dealing with educational subjects, of

generalizing from imperfect or incorrect data. Mr. Harris’ suggestion on

this point will, I trust, receive due consideration.

Mr. Harris also dwells (pp. 113, 114) on the results which ensue when

young Africans are sent to England to obtain legal or medical education.

“No strong and friendly hand is outstretched to help them, no responsible

person comes forward to take them by the hand and bring them in touch

with the better elements of our national life.... Who can be surprised if

the only seeds they carry back to the Colonies are those evil ones which

produce a crop of tares to the embarrassment of Governments?”

If the Colonial Office and the Missionary Societies, acting either

independently or in unison with each other, can devise any satisfactory

solution of this very important and also extremely difficult problem,

they will earn the gratitude of all who are interested in the well-being

of our Asiatic and African dominions. Palliatives for the evils which

most assuredly arise under the existing system have been tried by the

Governments of India and Egypt, but so far as I know the success of these

efforts has not been very marked. I may mention that, so convinced was I

that the harm done by sending young Egyptians to England for purposes of

education more than counterbalanced the advantages which were obtained

that at the cost of a good deal of misrepresentation—which was quite

natural under the circumstances—I persistently discouraged the practice,

and urged that a preferable system was so to improve higher and technical

education on the spot as to render the despatch of students to Europe

no longer necessary. I fear, however, my efforts in this respect were

not altogether successful, for although higher education in Egypt has

unquestionably been much improved, the idea that European attainments

can best be cultivated in Europe itself has taken so strong a hold both

on Egyptian parents and on the Egyptian governing classes, that it is

well-nigh impossible to eradicate it.

By far, however, the most interesting and also the most important part

of Mr. Harris’ work is that in which he deals with the future of the

African possessions of Belgium and Portugal respectively. Even if I had

at my disposal all the information necessary to a thorough treatment

of these questions, it would not be possible to deal adequately with

the grave issues raised by Mr. Harris within the limits of the present

introduction. I confine myself, therefore, to a very few observations.

As regards the Congo, if I understand Mr. Harris’ view correctly, the

situation, broadly speaking, is somewhat as follows. Reforms have been

executed, and a serious effort, the sincerity of which he does not call

in question, has been made to rectify abuses for which neither the

Belgian Parliament nor the Belgian nation are in any degree responsible.

But although abuses have been checked, the main cause from which they

originally sprung has not yet been entirely removed. That cause is

that the Government, whose functions should be mainly confined to

administration, is still largely interested in commercial enterprises.

The State has not yet completely divorced itself from the production of

rubber for sale in the European markets. Moreover, the old officials, who

are tainted with Leopoldian practices, are still employed. Mr. Harris

even goes so far (p. 221) as to state that their presence acts as a

deterrent to the employment of Belgian officials of a higher type.[6] Mr.

Harris thinks—and, for my own part, I do not doubt rightly thinks—that

so long as this defective system[7] exists, radical reform of the Congo

administration will remain incomplete. But radical reform can only be

carried out at a very heavy cost, which the Belgian taxpayers, more

especially after the assurances which have been given to them, will

be unwilling to bear, and possibly incapable of bearing. Mn Harris,

therefore, thinks that the Belgian people will be unable to perform the

heavy task which, from no fault of their own, has been thrust upon them.

“There are reasons,” he says (p. 298), “for believing that the extensive

Congo territories are too heavy a responsibility for Belgium.”

It is very possible that Mr. Harris’ diagnosis is correct. But what is

to be the remedy? The remedy which he suggests is that Germany should

take over the greater part of the Belgian and a portion of the French

Congo, and (p. 302) should concede “an adequate _quid pro quo_” to

France. I will not attempt to discuss fully this suggestion which, to

the diplomatic mind, is somewhat startling. I will only say that I very

greatly doubt the feasibility of arranging any such “adequate _quid pro

quo_” for France as Mr. Harris seems to contemplate. The British attitude

in connection with any transfer of the Congo State from its present

rulers to Germany appears to me, however, to be abundantly clear. If any

amicable arrangement could be made by which Germany should enter into

possession of the Congo, we may regard it, from the point of view of

British interests, without the least shadow of disfavour or jealousy,

but—and this point appears to me to be essential—it must be of such a

nature as will not in any degree impair the very friendly relations which

now fortunately exist between our own country and France. The well-being

of the Congo State, however deserving of consideration, must be rated

second in importance to the steadfast maintenance of an arrangement

fraught with the utmost benefit not merely to France and England, but to

the world in general.

Failing any such rather heroic measures as those proposed by Mr. Harris,

the only alternative would appear to be to rely on Belgian action, and

to exercise continuous but steady and very friendly pressure in the

direction of crowning the work of the Congo reformers. It would be unjust

not to recognize the great difficulties which a series of untoward events

has created for Belgium. It may well be that if this course is adopted

the progress of reform will be relatively slow, and that in the end it

will be less effective than that which would be secured by an immediate

and radical change of system. But I rise from a perusal of Mr. Harris’

pages with a feeling that Congo reformers have no cause for despair,

albeit their ideals may be impossible of realization in the immediate

future.

The case of Portugal is, from the British point of view, if not less

difficult, certainly far more simple than that of the Congo. If one-half

of what Mr. Harris says is correct—and I see no reason whatever to doubt

the accuracy of his facts—two points are abundantly clear. The first is

that however it may be disguised by an euphemistic nomenclature, slavery

virtually exists in the African possessions of Portugal. The second is

that the methods adopted in the repatriation of the slaves are open to

very strong and very legitimate criticism. The process of dumping down

a number of starving blacks on the coast of the mainland and leaving

them to find their own way to their distant homes in Central Africa can

scarcely be justified.

Portugal is justly proud of her historical connection with Africa and

wishes to retain her African possessions. We may heartily sympathize

with this honourable wish. I know of no adequate reasons for supposing

that the present political status of those possessions is threatened.

But, I venture to think, it would be a mistaken kindness to leave the

Portuguese under any delusion on one point. There are some things which

no British Government, however powerful otherwise, can undertake to

perform. First and foremost amongst those things is the use of the

warlike strength of the British Empire to maintain a slave State. In

spite of the long-standing friendship between the two countries, in spite

of historical associations which are endeared to all Englishmen, and

in spite of the apparently unequivocal nature of treaty engagements,

it would, I feel assured, be quite impossible, should the African

possessions of Portugal be seriously menaced, for British arms to be

employed in order to retain them under the uncontrolled possession of

Portugal, so long as slavery is permitted. It is earnestly to be hoped

that, before any such contingency can arise, the Portuguese Government

will have removed the barrier which now exists by totally abolishing a

system which is worthy of condemnation alike on economic and on moral

grounds.

One further incident in connection with the general question is worthy

of notice. Mr. Harris says (p. 200) that a small number of the slaves

now employed at San Thomé are British subjects. There ought surely to be

no great difficulty in dealing with this class. African experts would

probably be able to say whether the claim to British nationality was

justified or the reverse. If justified, it seems to me that the British

Government should send a ship to San Thomé, embark the men, and, after

having landed them at the most convenient ports on the mainland, make

suitable arrangements for despatching them to their respective homes.

CROMER.

36, WIMPOLE STREET, _October, 1912_.

AUTHOR’S PREFACE

It has become the custom in recent years for writers, particularly those

recording their travels in semi-civilized regions, to disclaim in advance

any title to literary merit. I do not propose to make any exception

to this rule and would plead in lieu of literary style a sincerity of

purpose, which I beg my literary critics and superiors to accept. If

they feel that the facts and incidents set forth suffer from any lack of

literary ability, I can only hope that they will take the information

supplied upon some of the existing problems of West Africa and use it in

their own skilful way with the object of helping forward the march of

progress in West Central Africa.

The information contained in this book is drawn from an experience

of West Africa dating back to the year 1898 and in particular during

a recent journey of something like 5000 miles through the western

Equatorial regions. The principal questions under review, are those which

affect in the main the conventional basin of the Congo and the Colonies

of the Gulf of Guinea.

It has always been my endeavour to get to know the mind of natives and

merchants outside the circle of “the authorities,” a habit which I feel

has sometimes entailed the appearance of discourtesy, but I know how

reticent are the merchant communities, no less than the native tribes,

even the most untutored of them, if they see a man or woman holding

friendly relations with the powers that be. This method of investigation

I have always pursued, with the result that information of the utmost

value has frequently been supplied. Whilst, however, I have felt this

to be the best course to follow I have, at the same time, tried to

place myself in the position of a responsible minister of the Crown,

a governor, an official and even a planter, in order that so far as

possible I may look at things from their standpoint.

The question may be raised by some of my readers how a man who has spent

so many years of his life in distinctly religious work can presume to

write upon commercial and political problems. I would make no excuse

for so doing, but in justification would say that prior to preparation

for missionary work, it is well-known by many of my friends that I held

a responsible position in one of the leading commercial houses of the

city of London, which, amongst other advantages, gave me a large insight

into foreign and colonial questions. My experience of the Congo and

cognate questions early brought me into touch with eminent statesmen

and well-known public men, including President Roosevelt, Lord Cromer,

Sir Edward Grey, Lord Fitzmaurice, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sir

Charles Dilke, Sir Francis Hyde Villiers, Sir Arthur Hardinge, Sir Harry

Johnston, Sir Valentine Chirol, Mr. St. Loe Strachey, Dr. Thomas Hodgkin,

and my friends Travers Buxton, E. D. Morel and Harold Spender. It is

impossible to enjoy frequent discussions with men of such breadth of

knowledge, wide experience and high ideals, without considerable profit,

and at least some qualification for a responsible position. If there

is one to whom I am more deeply indebted than another, it is to Lord

Fitzmaurice, whose friendship and counsel I have been privileged to enjoy

in an increasing measure for nearly twelve years.

My thanks are due to the Editors of _The Times_, _The Manchester

Guardian_, _The Nation_, _The Daily Chronicle_, _The Daily News and

Leader_, and the _Contemporary Review_ for permission to use material

which has already appeared in their columns. To Mr. Hamel Smith, the

Editor of _Tropical Life_, the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce, Messrs.

John Holt, F. A. Swanzy and Elder Dempster, for the information and

help they have so kindly supplied to me, and also to my wife for the

assistance rendered to me in the preparation of the manuscript.

_October, 1912._

TO

MY DEVOTED COMPANION

WHO HAS SO PATIENTLY BORNE THE HARDSHIPS

OF TRAVEL AND THE LONG STRAIN OF OUR

LABOURS FOR THE NATIVE RACES

THESE PAGES ARE

DEDICATED

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION BY THE EARL OF CROMER v

AUTHOR’S PREFACE xxiii

FOREWORD xxxiii

PART I

I. THE AFRICAN “PORTER” 3

II. THE PADDLER AND HIS CANOE 10

III. THE AFRICAN FOREST 17

IV. A MEDLEY OF CUSTOMS 23

(_a_) CICATRIZATION 26

(_b_) PERSONAL ADORNMENT 31

(_c_) THE ANGEL OF DEATH 36

(_d_) PEACE AND ARBITRATION 40

V. THE NATIVE AS A MONEY MAKER 45

VI. THE AFRICAN WOMAN 52

PART II

CIVILIZATION AND THE AFRICAN

I. THE WHITE MAN’S BURDEN 75

II. LIGHTENING THE WHITE MAN’S BURDEN 81

III. GOVERNMENTS AND COMMERCE 87

IV. THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC 98

V. THE EDUCATED NATIVE 106

VI. JUSTICE AND THE AFRICAN 116

VII. RACE PREJUDICE 122

PART III

I. LABOUR—SUPPLY AND DEMAND 131

II. LAND AND ITS RELATION TO LABOUR 157

III. PORTUGUESE SLAVERY 168

IV. THE FUTURE OF BELGIAN CONGO 203

PART IV

MORAL AND MATERIAL PROGRESS

I. THE PRODUCTS OF THE OIL PALM 225

II. THE PRODUCTION OF RUBBER 235

III. THE PRODUCTION OF COCOA 246

IV. THE PROGRESS OF CHRISTIAN MISSIONS 265

PART V

I. THE MAP OF AFRICA RE-ARRANGED 293

INDEX 305

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

MUSHAMALENGI, “A ROYAL PRINCE” OF THE BAKUBA KINGDOM IN

THE UPPER KASAI _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

A LIGHT-HEARTED CARRIER 4

THE CANOE SINGER 4

THE VINES OF THE TROPICAL FOREST 8

MRS. HARRIS CANOEING ON THE ARUWIMI, UPPER CONGO 12

A RICKETY DUG-OUT 12

WILD FOREST FRUIT 18

THE “ELEPHANT EAR” IN THE WET SEASON 20

WILD FOREST FRUIT 20

THE “HEALING” FETISH 24

THE BAKETI MEMORIAL GROUND. TREES UPROOTED AND PLANTED BRANCHES

DOWNWARDS IN MEMORY OF THE DEAD 24

THE SWASTIKA CICATRICE 26

THE OYSTER SHELL CICATRICE 26

CICATRICED WOMEN OF EQUATORVILLE 28

THE BANGALLA “RASP” CICATRICE 28

BANGALLA CHIEF WITH HEAD TIGHTLY BOUND FROM BIRTH 32

BANGALLA BABE WITH HEAD TIGHTLY BOUND 32

A FIVE-FOOT BEARD 34

STYLES OF ARUWIMI HEAD-DRESS 34

THE WITCH 38

SLAVE GRAVEYARD ON THE ISLAND OF SAN THOMÉ 38

THE WITCH DOCTOR WITH HIS CHARMS FOR EVERY ILL 40

A NATIVE PLANTER IN HIS FUNTUMIA PLANTATION, SOUTHERN NIGERIA 50

RUBBER COLLECTORS, KASAI RIVER, UPPER CONGO 50

WOMEN POUNDING OIL PALM NUTS 54

GRINDING CORN ON THE KASAI, UPPER CONGO 56

A CHRISTIAN COUPLE RETURNING FROM THE GARDENS TOWARDS SUNSET 58

WEAVING CLOTH IN THE KASAI, UPPER CONGO 58

“TWIN POTS” HOISTED ON FORKED STICKS EITHER SIDE OF PATHWAY IN

HONOUR OF NEWLY BORN TWINS, BANGALLA, CONGO 70

WILD FLOWERS GROWING ON TRUNK OF FOREST TREE 78

“THE STORY THE GRAVEYARDS TELL” 78

CATARACT REGION BELOW STANLEY POOL, BELGIAN CONGO 94

DR. SAPARA OF LAGOS, A MEDICAL MAN IN THE SERVICE OF THE BRITISH

GOVERNMENT 110

COCOA FARM, BELGIAN CONGO 134

A CONGO CHIEF WITH SOME OF HIS WIVES AND “BASAMBA” CONCUBINES 144

A HUNTER’S “LUCKY” FETISH 146

PRINCE ELEKO AND COUNCIL, SOUTHERN NIGERIA 168

LAND FORMATION, LOANDA, PORTUGUESE ANGOLA 170

CHANCEL AND NORTH WALL OF DISUSED DUTCH CHURCH, LOANDA (see

page 171) 172

COCOA CARRYING, BELGIAN CONGO 174

ENTRANCE TO COCOA ROÇA, PRINCIPE ISLAND (PORTUGUESE) 174

SLAVES ON SAN THOMÉ 180

DISUSED SLAVE COMPOUND IN REAR OF HOUSE, CATUMBELLA 180

SLAVES ON COCOA ROÇA, PRINCIPE ISLAND 184

THE END OF THE SLAVE. TWO SLAVES CARRYING DEAD COMRADE IN SACK

TO BURIAL 184

GUM COPAL FOR SALE, UPPER CONGO 214

GOVERNMENT IVORY AND RUBBER, UPPER CONGO 214

AN AVENUE OF OIL PALMS: TEN YEARS’ GROWTH 226

“WALKING” UP TO GATHER FRUIT. WEAVER BIRDS’ NESTS ON THE PALM

FRONDS 230

HEADS OF OIL PALM FRUIT 230

THE OIL PALM IN THE GRIP OF ITS PARASITIC ENEMY:—

THE CREEPER AT AN EARLY STAGE 232

ROOT AND BRANCH IN DEADLY GRIP 232

FINE HEADS OF OIL PALM FRUIT 234

CARRYING RUBBER VINES TO VILLAGE 240

EXTRACTING RUBBER, KASAI RIVER, UPPER CONGO 240

COCOA ON SAN THOMÉ. TERMITE TRACK VISIBLE ON THE TRUNK OF TREE 246

COCOA DRYING IN SUN 256

THE CRUCIFIX IN AFRICAN FETISH HUT ON THE ISLAND OF SAN THOMÉ 272

RUIN OF ONCE IMPOSING CHURCH ON THE ISLAND OF PRINCIPE 272

INTERIOR OF MISSIONARIES’ HOUSE. BASEL INDUSTRIAL MISSION

FURNITURE MADE BY GOLD COAST INDUSTRIAL SCHOLARS 284

MAP OF CENTRAL AND SOUTH AFRICAN COLONIES WITH “MOTHER

COUNTRIES” DRAWN TO SAME SCALE _at end of text_

FOREWORD

WEST AFRICA

West Africa, as some of us have known her, is rapidly changing. Within

the memory of most men, there were deserts uncrossed, forests unexplored,

tribes of people unknown. To-day every desert has been traversed; to-day

we know not only the forests, but nearly every species of tree they

contain; we know, and can locate, almost every African tribe, and almost

every foot of territory has passed under the control, for the time being

at least, of some alien Power.

At the present moment political boundaries are more or less fixed, but

for how long? In Europe certain Powers are, for one reason or another,

seeking opportunities somewhere for colonial expansion, and the moment

seems opportune for a reshuffle of colonial possessions, but where, and

how?

Looking into the Far East, the statesman sees nothing but trouble ahead

in the Celestial Empire, to say nothing of Japan standing sentinel over

the Orient. South America, with its vast resources and possibilities,

might fall an easy prey to an energetic Power, but over every Republic,

Monroe casts his protective declaration which, with the march of time,

fastens itself ever more firmly upon the vitals of the body politic of

the Republican States of South America.

Back to Africa, the searching eye of the statesman returns and rests

to-day. There in the Dark Continent are great territories awaiting

development, there weak administrations are “muddling along” doing

themselves no good, and their neighbours irreparable harm. For those

Powers the hand-writing is on the wall; they must either “get on, or get

out,” otherwise “like a whirlwind” some other Power will come and without

ceremony bundle them out of the path of progress.

In fifty years the map of Africa will bear little resemblance to that

of to-day, but what of the natives? Are they to have no voice in their

destiny? One listens with impatience to the cool and calculating

discussions for a re-arrangement of the map of Africa, which are

being carried on without any reference to the native tribes, without

any reference to treaty obligations, and with little respect for the

fundamental obligations of Christianity, the teaching of which the

European Powers claim as their special monopoly.

Commerce, too, is changing; the kind-hearted merchant of West Africa

going forth at his own charges, trudging from village to village founding

branches, paddling up and down the rivers and planting factories, is

disappearing, and the soulless corporation with directors who are mere

machines for registering dividends, are taking his place. Commerce in

West Africa is rapidly losing all the humanity which was once its driving

force.

The natives are abandoning the old forms of warfare. Denied the weapons

which would give them equal chances in mortal gage, they are astute

enough to refuse to accept mere butchery. They are learning that there

are powers mightier than the sword; education is advancing by leaps and

bounds, and the more virile colonies are producing strong men who will

make themselves felt before many years have passed over our heads. The

African is shaking himself free from the shackles he has worn for so long

and is at last beginning to realize his strength. At present Britain,

with all her shortcomings, leads the way in giving the native the fullest

scope for his abilities. In British and Portuguese Colonies alone in West

Africa has the free native the chance of attaining the full stature of

a man. In German and French tropical territories, the native is there,

not as a citizen, but merely as a necessary adjunct to the production of

wealth for the white man. How long he will be content with this position

is a question, and evidences of a coming change are everywhere apparent.

Soon the Africa we have known—yea, and loved—will have been hustled away.

Its forests, rivers and tribes will possess no more secrets; gone will be

the simple old chief; gone the primitive village untouched by European;

gone the old witch doctor, and gone too, perhaps, that beautiful faith

and trust in the goodness and honesty of the white man—the pity of it all!

Before these changes come, it behoves us to examine closely the great

problems before us—the problems of future political divisions, problems

of labour, and of education in the largest and fullest sense—and so to

readjust our conceptions and laws with an understanding of the natives as

save ourselves from repeating the blunders of the past; blunders which

have cost Africa millions of useful lives; blunders which have indelibly

stained for time and eternity the escutcheon of Christian Europe;

blunders for which recompense can never be adequately made, but which at

least should serve as a warning for the future.

PART I

I.—The African “Porter.”

II.—The Paddler and his Canoe.

III.—The African Forest.

IV.—A Medley of Customs:—

(_a_) Cicatrization.

(_b_) Personal Adornment.

(_c_) “The Angel of Death.”

(_d_) Peace and Arbitration.

V.—The Native as a Money Maker.

VI.—The African Woman.

I

THE AFRICAN “PORTER”

It is almost impossible to exaggerate the part which the African “porter”

or carrier, plays in the history of the Dark Continent. The hinterland

of the vast tropical regions—a death-trap to every beast of burden—has

been opened up by the carrier together with his brother transport

worker—the paddler. The heavier burden has, beyond question, been borne

by the former, by the countless thousands of hard woolly heads which

have sweated under the weight of innumerable bales and cases too often

receiving as a reward of their labour an endless stream of abuse. It

seemed justifiable to murmur when crossing those swamps and fighting

one’s way through impenetrable forest, but at a distance, and with time

for calm reflection, there can surely be no other thought in the mind of

any African traveller than that of admiration, as he pictures those sons

of Africa with heavy and cumbersome loads upon their heads, floundering

through swamps, or toiling up steep hills and along stony paths, cutting

and blistering the feet, while the fierce rays of the tropical sun scorch

every living thing. Yet on that carrier goes, footsore, often foodless,

yet ever ready to renew the march of to-morrow.

Railways and bridges, steamboats and bungalows, engines of war,

machinery for drilling into the bowels of the earth, lofty windmills,

telegraph wires and poles—these and other European conquerors of African

air, land and water have by the thousands of tons found themselves

hundreds of miles in the interior of Africa owing to the infinite

endurance of the African carrier. Abuse him who will, but be sure of one

thing, history will yet give him his due.

The railways, bridges and steamboats, would, so we were told, lessen

the need for carriers. That they have shortened distances we grant, but

so far from the need of the carrier being lessened, economic expansion

has increased the demand. The opening up of the country has brought an

insatiable civilization into close touch with vast uncultivated tracts of

land, with the result that a great impetus has everywhere been given to

agricultural development, which in turns calls for an unceasing stream of

carriers to feed the railways and steam craft.

[Sidenote: THE CARRIER ON THE MARCH]

Thirty years ago the British colony of the Gold Coast possessed no

railways, nor was there any export of cocoa. To-day she exports annually

over a million pounds’ worth of cocoa-beans, requiring in the season

over 100,000 carriers to convey the cocoa harvests to the railways. True

statesmanship must always aim at releasing labour from the unproductive

task of transport, in order that it may till the soil, but it is doubtful

whether the African carrier will ever completely disappear.

Their long procession is never without interest; every man has some

distinguishing mark upon which the white traveller may meditate as he

trudges along, now in front, now in the centre, now again in the rear

of a caravan. What a medley yonder man carries upon his head! There is

the traveller’s “chop” box or his bundle of bedding, to which perhaps is

lashed by means of a piece of forest vine, the sundry goods and chattels

of that simple-hearted carrier—an old salmon tin filled with odd little

packages of salt, chili peppers, bits of string, possibly a piece of

soap, an old knife and the end of a native candle. There is also the

“Sunday best,” whose owner, while looking happy enough in that strip

of loin cloth held in place by a cheap European strap, yet strides the

firmer and prouder because of that old cotton shirt and the patched white

trousers so carefully protected by a bundle of forest leaves. Provisions,

too, are there, carefully pounded, cooked and flavoured by the good wife

at home. Those unsavoury manioca puddings for “her man” are generously

accompanied by her catches of fish, smoked and set aside that he might

each day have an appetizing morsel for his meal.

[Illustration: A LIGHTHEARTED CARRIER.]

[Illustration: THE CANOE SINGER.]

Other carriers are distinguished by the wounds and bruises of their

calling—one limps along with a sore foot, but on he goes until the

journey’s end; others there are with sore skin or nasty wounds, caused by

forest thorns or rough stones, others whose chafed shoulders of yesterday

now gape and become a resting-place for the torment of flies; yet, with

it all, the impatient traveller too frequently falls to scolding and even

cursing them for their “laziness”!

No white man should be allowed to travel beyond a day’s journey with a

caravan unless he has a few medical aids for such bruised and wounded

helpers, and it will repay him if human gratitude can be called a

reward. Cuts and wounds are both the inevitable price of African travel,

and it is a necessity and a duty to carry a few spare bandages and

healing ointments. There is satisfaction too in gathering the sick men

round in the evening and giving them a soothing plaster, ointment or

a bandage. A little human kindness of this nature helps to make the

journey a happier one for all, but alas too often what the Germans call

_tropenkoller_ has no conception of a remedy for complaints beyond the

whip or the boot.

The carrier is no more an angel than other human beings, no matter

whether pink or black; he has all the imperfections and the love of

self-preservation of the brother who calls himself white. I remember once

having all the loads laid out ready for the start and then giving the

order for each man to choose his load. It was evident the carriers had

mentally marked the load each would like to seize, for a dash was made

for a small box only about 18 inches square and having the appearance

of a 20 lb. load—but it was a case of cartridges weighing 80 lbs.! How

promptly they all discarded that box and dashed away for the larger but

lighter loads!

Strangely enough the carrier seldom “pilfers” on a journey. The white

man’s goods may suffer depredations on the steamer or on the train, but

on the march there seems to be a sacred community of interest which

safeguards the goods of most white men as effectively as if protected by

the spirit-haunted herbs and parrot feathers of the witch doctor, but

when civilization, in the shape of steamers and railway trains, enters

barbarous regions away goes the eighth commandment. There is one respect

in which every African traveller invariably suffers—hungry at the mid-day

hour, he calls for “chop”; thirsty, he asks for filtered water; or at

night, dead tired, he looks for his folding bed; he may call in vain,

for either from set purpose with some definite object in view, or from

stupidity, these essentials to the white man are generally “miles behind.”

[Sidenote: THE CARRIER AND NATURE]

Probably the carrier is at his best when travelling through the vast

forests, where, shielded from the sun by the interlacing trees overhead,

it is delightfully cool and the layers of dried leaves render the path

as soft and springy as the richest carpet. Carriers and traveller are

in high mood and as conversation flows freely the traveller realizes

what great students of nature these sons of Africa are. As they walk

along, they will name every tree and almost every plant; they will tell

how many moons elapse before the trees begin to bear; they will give

descriptions of edible fruits, the birds and animals which each kind of

fruit attracts, varying these running comments by periodic dashes through

the undergrowth in search of fruits to illustrate the conversation.

How closely, too, they watch the path for the footprints of animal life,

never at a fault to identify the prints with their owners, or accurately

gauge the time when the creature passed by, begging, if the traces are

recent, to be allowed to track the “meat.” As time does not concern

the hunter, it is generally wise, if there is any reasonable chance of

obtaining food for the caravan, to camp for the night. This knowledge

of forest life stands the natives in good stead, for not infrequently

provisions run out on the long marches and in the absence of human

habitations, the question of feeding the caravan becomes a serious matter.

At one time we had marched for days without any opportunity of obtaining

a supply of food and the carriers were all suffering from hunger; in a

whole day we seldom found more than a small handful of edible fruit. At

last it became almost impossible to push on with the caravan so tired

and hungry: I called together a few of the men and asked what we should

do, whereupon one made the novel suggestion of “calling the meat.” The

proposal was readily taken up and three of us pushed on ahead with guns.

Arriving at a quiet spot, one of the men—a very son of the forest—fell on

his knees, and, placing the tips of two fingers in his nostrils, emitted

a series of calls which made that forest glen echo with, as it were,

the joyous cries of a troop of monkeys! How anxiously the tops of trees

were watched! After repeating these tactics in several places in the

immediate vicinity for about half-an-hour, a man close to me whispered

excitedly “here they come”! In the distance we could see the tree tops

moving, and in a short time a score of monkeys could be seen skipping

from tree to tree towards the inimitable monkey cries of our carrier. New

life was infused into the whole caravan when they saw the gun bring down

four monkeys for the evening meal; lowering countenances were wreathed

with smiles, grumblings and cursings gave place to joyous songs in which

even the sick and lame gladly joined. At dinner that night the men were

so famished that they could not stop to cook the meat, but contented

themselves with merely singeing off the skin and eating the uncooked

flesh.

[Illustration: THE VINES OF THE TROPICAL FOREST.]

[Sidenote: THE CARRIER’S FRIENDS]

To emerge from the forest is generally to enter once more into habitable

country, and there the carriers, no matter how far from home, generally

discover a relative—a brother or a sister, a father or a mother. Their

relationships are strangely elastic, many an African laying claim to as

many mothers as wives, in point of fact the father’s brothers and the

mother’s sisters all rank as the fathers and mothers of the children. The

roving British tar may have a wife in every port, but he is surpassed

by the African carrier who may have not only a wife but a mother and

sometimes a father too in every village!

II

THE PADDLER AND HIS CANOE

Central Africa, the unexplored land of our childhood, is vested with

a charm that never ceases to allure, and reveals her deepest secrets

only to those who dig deep and risk much to discover them. The rivers

with their shifting sandbanks, their treacherous rapids and whirlpools,

entice again and again those whom the miasma has threatened to slay, as

the rushing current threatens the unwary navigator. The native alone is

in any degree immune to the former, and it is he who, with his simple

knowledge of the shoals and currents, may venture with his inimitable

dug-out where scientific navigation is baffled. Inseparable from the

African river is the dug-out, unthinkable are the thousands of miles

of navigable waterway without this primitive, though astonishingly

effective, craft.

Canoeing in Central Africa may be not unpleasant, providing both canoe

and paddlers are amiably inclined. The number of canoes available is

so restricted that there is little choice, and comfort aside it is

wise always to sacrifice size to reputation, for a canoe with a bad

name will dispirit the paddlers. The trimmest and most seasoned craft,

capable of holding twenty to twenty-five paddlers, is the traveller’s

ideal, but the equipment is incomplete without a small pilot boat for

surplus baggage, manned with four or five paddlers, who will keep ahead,

but always in sight, forewarning of rocks, snags, or sandbanks, and

generally discharging the functions of a scout. No less important is the

selection of the crew, and these to complete a harmonious group should

be volunteers—the best plan being that of getting three or four cheery

spirits to select the remainder from amongst their friends.

[Sidenote: THE PADDLER AND MUSIC]

The African paddler readily responds to an appeal for a co-operative

canoe journey, but he dislikes any such undertaking as a mere hired

paddler. Make him part and parcel of the journey and a host of potential

difficulties vanish. Erect in the bows of the canoe a tiny rush shelter

with a bamboo bed for the white man, and only the two final though most

important elements remain—music and provisions—the absence of either

being equally fatal. For the latter, an ample supply of dried fish and

cassava can be stored in the canoe, while a currency in the shape of

beads, salt, cloth, pins and needles will do the rest. Without music the

African can neither live nor die, nor yet be buried; walking, riding,

eating, digging, paddling or dancing, he must have the rhythm of his

music, devoid of charm it may be to the European, but vital to the good

spirits of the African. To the accompaniment of an old biscuit tin or a

couple of sticks, the gunwale of the canoe, or the leaves of the forest,

any or all of which can be made to give forth a sufficiency of barbaric

sounds to set in rhythmic motion the voices and bodies of all within

range.

With canoe packed, paddlers in position with their long spear-shaped

paddles and musicians with their instruments, provisions piled high

and carefully covered, the start is made. Farewells are shouted, and

blessings pronounced which if measured by their volume should preserve

the traveller for all time from hippos and snags, storms and mosquitos,

sickness, accident and even death.

[Sidenote: CANOE CHARACTERISTICS]

One sees in the African canoe characteristics as distinct as those of the

paddlers, for with a limited companionship comes a close acquaintance

with nature and things inanimate. There is the leviathan among native

craft shaped by the chief and his followers from a forest giant and

bearing herself with the proud consciousness of regal ownership. In such

a craft the passengers need have no fear for she rides majestically with

her bows reared high, breasting the waves of the tornado-lashed river or

lake, unmoved by the raging of the elements. She is seen at her best as

she glides down stream under the combined influence of the current and

the swinging impetus of her thirty stout paddlers. There is the rickety

old canoe with broken stern and crippled sides, and her leaking bottom

stuffed with clay, but there is life in her yet. She ships water fore and

aft, and amidships too, soaking the traveller’s blankets and provisions,

but her long experience gives her an ease in travel which her younger

though stouter relatives cannot rival. Then there is the lumbering

ungainly dug-out, with crooked nose and knotty sides, unreliable and

ill-balanced, possessing an affinity for every submerged snag. “Hard

on” she frequently goes and every effort to free her threatens to drown

the occupants. Sandbanks she seeks out too and obstinately refuses to

“jump” them. The paddlers will haul her off and curse her roundly for her

crooked ways,—but as she was hewn so she will remain. At the other end

of the scale is the tiny fishing dug-out of the Niger and the Congo, and

their still smaller sister of Batanga in Spanish Guinea, the latter so

small that the owner may with ease carry on his shoulder both canoe and

fishing tackle, and whilst baiting hooks and catching fish he skilfully

sits astride her and paddles with his feet.

[Illustration: MRS. HARRIS CANOEING ON THE ARUWIMI, UPPER CONGO.]

[Illustration: A RICKETY DUG-OUT.]

Inseparable again from the dug-out is the paddler. Who that travelled

with him can forget him? Humorous as the London Jehu of the twentieth

century, dexterous as his civilized confrères of the ocean, as adaptable

to his surroundings as the clay to the potter’s art; at home everywhere

and in all conditions in his native land, swimming or standing, sitting

or lying, squatting or reclining, sleeping as soundly on the nose of the

canoe or the river bank as we in our downiest of feather beds. He is

ready and alert with the earliest peep of dawn, as the mists rise from

the surface of the river, presenting the appearance of a huge boiling

cauldron. Peeping from beneath your mosquito net you see his figure

outlined against the dawning light as he keeps a sharp look-out for

the hidden snag, and shivers with the clinging chilly mist. His powers

of endurance are unequalled, as the rising sun dispels the mists and

mounting higher in the heavens becomes increasingly fierce. He still

swings his paddle with steady persistence till his body steams with

the effort; then after a little halt and refreshment in the friendly

shade of the riverside forest, he will go on until the sun is sinking,

and if need be, still on in the moonlight, singing his monotonous boat

song, occasionally varied by a running commentary from the leader on the

incidents of the journey, the peculiarities of a certain paddler, or the

ways of the white occupants of the canoe.

During the whole day long the paddler will pursue his task, I see him

now almost unconsciously bending his body with each dip of the paddle,

till a sudden slowing down followed by a profound stillness arrests the

attention. I can again hear those whispered voices as the gentle lapping

of the water against the canoe side ceases, and the boat is still. A

monkey has perhaps been seen overhead springing from bough to bough, or

sitting nibbling the fruit of some forest tree, or it may be an edible

bird with flesh as tough as its plumage is gorgeous, that watches us

till the gun booms out and the creature is brought down. For a moment it

struggles in the river, then with a sudden splash, a man is swimming with

powerful strokes towards the prey which he a moment later lands in the

canoe, while the rest look approvingly on at their prospective meal. With

spirits heartened, on they go, singing of their capture and the feast

which is to follow, till turning a bend in the river the destination is

at last in sight.

[Sidenote: A CANOE RACE]

And how they love a race! Let them but see a competitor ahead bound for

the same goal, and despite their long day’s paddle they will redouble

their strokes. Caution is thrown to the winds and the canoe springs in a

mad gallop, rocking to and fro, pitching and tossing against the current

until the rival ahead, scenting a race, enters the competition with keen

zest. At such times I have found all warnings are in vain. With a rapid

girding up of the loin cloths as the boats proceed, a rearranging of the

cargo, children, dogs, fowls, baggage and all—the race begins in real

earnest. With much shouting and good-natured banter the one or the other

will take advantage of every prospect of an up-current; now out again in

midstream to avoid a snag; a paddle breaks in the effort, but is quickly

discarded and another seized without lessening the speed—and on they go,

each determined to win or sink their rival. The boats ship water, but are

made to right themselves with marvellous ingenuity and then both stop

to bale out, while the paddlers exchange good-humoured threats, gibes,

curses and defiance.

On again they go with little advantage to either side, and the word is

passed for the “master stroke.” Madder than ever is the race; the white

man may shout but they pay no heed, for young manhood has lost all sense

of danger. At last the opportunity occurs for the final advantage for the

river must be crossed at yonder point. Often have I tried to avoid this

danger, proceeding first to command, then to plead, but in vain. I might

as effectively have tried to control a hurricane with a feather! To clear

the point with its snags, one canoe must fall behind or cross the rival’s

bows—to give up and fall back is impossible. The attempt is generally

made by the smaller boat to cross the bows of her more powerful rival and

though occasionally successful she is more often struck amidships and

disappears completely—canoe, paddlers and all!

A great shout goes up and the victors splash in to the rescue, seizing

the mats, baskets, provisions and sundries, which float off in every

direction. The crew, as much at home in the water as on land, come up

one by one and others dive to seize the stern of the sunken canoe. With

vigorous pulling and pushing, the water is swished out till she floats

again, and in the vanquished spring, again baling out the remaining water

with their feet, till it is once more fit for occupation, and every one

is prepared for the last lap of the journey. The men take their beating

well, enjoying the laugh against themselves. That night all sleep

together in a friendly fishing encampment, while the white man curls up

in his canoe, and listens to the merry paddlers as they recount with

evident enjoyment the story of their five-mile race.

Who that has found a home and nightly shelter in an African canoe will

not, as he quits it after many days, feel that he is leaving an old

acquaintance behind him. Through the twenty-four hours of sleeping and

waking, the canoe and the traveller have adapted themselves to each

other’s limitations, and the recently vacated canoe speaks as eloquently

of emptiness as the vacant chair.

III

THE AFRICAN FOREST

There can hardly be any experience more exquisitely luxurious than

that of wandering on through the primeval forests of Central Africa.

The traveller whose daily round confines him to the great cities of a

hustling civilization finds himself in perfect solitude, perhaps for the

first time in his life. Every step he takes brings before him some new

wonder in nature’s garden; every hour in the day is alive with fresh

experiences.

Surely there is no language which aptly befits the transcendent beauty

of nature awaking to greet the new-born day. During the night, giant

forms have roamed at will through the silent glades and recesses of the

forests, but with the peep of day they have retired to their lair. Those

feathered sentinels, whose hoarse cry rings through the night hours,

have perforce veiled their eyes at the awakening of their comrades who

strike the sweeter chords befitting the glad hours of day. Throughout the

night the trees made monotonous music by the incessant drip drip of their

tears, but with the morning, the warm sun has bidden those tears begone.

When daylight breaks through the tree tops, the boughs sway here and

there as the monkeys, springing from tree to tree, gambol with their

fellows, only ceasing for a momentary peep at the strange intruders

of their sylvan preserve, as the undergrowth crackles beneath the

travellers’ feet and the squirrels dart across the pathway seeking a

safer retreat. The sight of the white clad figure, moving rapidly through

the mass of undergrowth, startles the mother bird from her nest, and off

she goes shrieking for her mate and warning her fellows. Yet over all, a

silence broods and the traveller falls to constant musing as he wends his

way.

For miles the dense forests will shut out the sun, and then perhaps

where a lofty giant tree has fallen in decay, a slanting ray of sun

will gleam through the leafy roof turning the pathway into a smiling

track of iridescent moss and fern. A few yards further and the path

descends abruptly into a woodland stream, bridged by rustic logs, only

possible of fording in mid-current by creeping warily along the trunk of

a tree which some thoughtful passer-by has felled. The logs and trees

which lie rotting in all directions are the home of shimmering mosses

and tiny fern. Beside the slippery and tottering causeway there shines

many a filigree globe of purest opal and cunning design like a fairy’s

incandescent light guiding the steps of the unwary traveller. They are

but insects’ nests, as fragile as delightsome, crumbling at the touch.

[Sidenote: THE BUSY ANTS]

The traveller can never proceed many miles on his journey without

meeting the dark lines of driver ants. At a distance of fifty yards,

all one sees is a uniform brown line, sometimes two inches wide,

sometimes as many feet. Drawing nearer they are seen to be well-ordered

regiments, thousands strong, with scouts, baggage bearers, captains

and field-marshals. Their enemies have fled at their approach and they

are masters of the field. On they will march, in faultless array, their

countless thousands obediently passing at a double their immovable

field-marshals, and as they proceed every living thing flees before them.

Now perhaps they disappear through some subterranean passage, tunnelled

out by their indomitable energy, to reappear on the surface when it suits

their plan. You may scatter them if you dare, but you can daunt them

never. Sweep them into heaps, kill them by the hundred, burn them by the

thousand, and tens of thousands surge forward, to fill up the ranks, and

remove the dead. Then the regiments will grimly move once more on their

way—an incentive to higher organisms.

[Illustration: WILD FOREST FRUIT.]

The African forests teem with life, for the most part silent; even the

great beasts glide along in perfect quietude—not till you are upon them

do you realize the proximity of the elephants; then, unless the traveller

be a Nimrod, his greatest concern is to avoid a possible encounter. They

love most a quiet glen near the forest stream, where they will plough the

earth in all directions and everywhere leave the impress of their giant

limbs stretched in gymnastics all their own; here and there scattered

over their playground lie scores of trees athwart each other, evidence

of no woodman’s axe, but of the entwining grip of the monster’s trunk,

who in his unrivalled strength delights thus to shew his power in his own

domain. Everywhere, too, the great forest apples lie idle after their

sport, and the natives tell how they spend hours hurling these great

balls at their fellows.

The rivers which everywhere feed the African forest, coupled with the

tropical sun, give luxuriance to all nature. Vines are there as much

as three feet in circumference, moss-grown and gnarled with age, born

perhaps when the parent acorns of our oldest oaks were yet unformed.

Sometimes like huge serpents they coil themselves in a tortuous grip

round two or three trees, each of which may be ten times their own size.

There is beauty too in these silent forests, when at intervals on the

march the traveller, almost unconsciously at first, begins to inhale the

fragrant odour of some delicious perfume sent forth by modest blooms

that shun the gaze of man. A little searching beneath the undergrowth,

or in the tree tops overhead, reveals a bloom upon which the eye gladly

lingers—trails of waxen jasmine hanging from the bush in exquisite

profusion.

[Sidenote: BEAUTY IN DECAY]

There is beauty, too, in the forest decay, in the fallen tree trunk,

whose rotting bark and ugly torn stump are transformed by tufts of

gracefully drooping fern, while tiny rootlets smile from out every

crevice. There is beauty, too, in the fungus growths, tinted and white,

or the perfection of coral, or blooms whose purple depths suggest some

cherished hot-house flower.

The experienced traveller is quick to note signs of a change; the

pathway leads uphill and the absence of giant tree trunks denotes that

he is treading a once cleared and populated region. That hill, whose

summit is capped with foliage, was once a village landmark, beneath it,

myriad termites live and pursue their daily toils through tunnels and

chambers that they have shaped by their countless thousands. Were man’s

three-score years and ten twice told devoted to the study of the ways and

purposes of the unheeded occupants of our earth, he had but then begun to

learn the alphabet of nature’s infinite resources.

[Illustration: THE “ELEPHANT EAR” IN THE WET SEASON.]

[Illustration: WILD FOREST FRUIT.]

Close to the termite hills the half-buried foundations of primitive

dwellings speak of departed life, and in the Congo, hundreds, yea

thousands, of these mark the spot where once the children of nature lived

out their simple life, till civilization strode through the land treading

ruthlessly down the souls of men. They have gone and their haunts lie

deserted, but their monuments remain. The discarded kernels of the

housewives’ palm nuts have taken root and now rear their graceful fronds

on faultless trunks like capitals of Corinthian pillars in some cathedral

aisle. As if by design they ranged themselves thus. In these silent

groves the traveller treads reverently upon the grassy floor; no monk is

here; there is no echo of the choristers’ song, but nature has reared

her temple where myriad voices rejoice and sing their song of praise,

unfettered by the forms and creeds of man.

The long day’s tramp is now over; the sun is setting and the birds are

carolling their evening song, as the traveller emerges into the open

space beside the gleaming river, flowing swiftly onwards with its errand

to the sea. The glow of the departing sun tints the clouds with purple

and gold outshining in glory the loveliness of the morning. Surely the

heavenly regions are not far beyond, and this is a glimpse behind the

veil. The afterglow has departed and the world of man falls asleep till

the twittering of the birds heralds the approach of another day with

another march through the inexhaustible forests of tropical Africa, where

verily

“Earth is crammed with Heaven

And every common bush ablaze with God.”

IV

A MEDLEY OF CUSTOMS

A lifetime spent amongst a single African tribe would scarcely exhaust

its folklore and customs. Awaiting scientific investigation there is

throughout the African continent a wealth of lore and superstition.

To him who would discover the hidden life of the African infinite

patience is essential. It is useless to force information; the best plan

is to wait until the “spirit moves” the old woman or chief to tell you

something of the inner life of the tribe. Perhaps the time and conditions

which most contribute to a flow of talk are a moonlight evening around

the log fires and cooking pots.

I see them now—these simple Africans, seated around the great earthenware

pot awaiting the meal of boiled cassava, pounded leaves or steamed

Indian corn. I hear that grey-headed old chief, with low musical voice,

passing on the traditions of past generations, so “that the boys may

know something of the early history of their race.” All the old stories

familiar to civilization are there. They all know that “man first went

wrong through woman gathering fruit in the forest,” the only variation

is that the kind of fruit differs in different parts of West Africa, but

it is always a forest fruit, always the woman tempted the man; always

man succumbed! Then the old chief will turn to the oft-told story—the

sacrificial efficacy of the young kid. It is remarkable how closely

this custom resembles even to-day that institution of the Pentateuch.

The young kid must be free from all disease, a perfect animal in every

respect. When killed the blood is carefully sprinkled on the lintel

and on each door-post. Other familiar sacred institutions are passed

under review. Then the animal kingdom comes under discussion, and the

whole series of Uncle Remus, with but slight variations, secures the

rapt attention of the listeners. It is at such times as these that the

student gets beneath the surface of polygamy, burial and marriage dances,

cicatrization and the more serious subjects of land tenure, tribal laws,

social ties and domestic slavery.

Not all tribes are equally interesting, probably the Baketi tribes on

the upper reaches of the Kasai river provide the greatest wealth of

interesting customs and folklore. Their grotesque images, carved in

wood, grin at the traveller from the door-posts of the houses, and

passing through the villages one has to be extremely careful not to

tread upon one of the fetishes which are scattered along the walks in

great profusion. One day I saw three separate fetishes within a single

square yard, and these, the father explained to us in his simple way,

he had purchased at, to him, a heavy cost, hoping thereby to restore to

health his only daughter. Not only does the Baketi fill his town with

fetishes and wooden images, but in the forests which separate village

from village, almost every tree along the pathway has rudely carved on

its trunk the grinning face of some impossible human being.

[Sidenote: THE BAKETI FETISH]

The Baketi, too, is probably unique in his memorial grounds. Most African

tribes bury the dead in the heart of the forest, but at the same time

near the village a memorial ground is set apart on which are erected tiny

memorial huts, which the restless spirits of the departed may inhabit

if they so choose. There, when the spirit pays such visits—as all good

spirits do nightly—he finds his loin cloth ready, the spoon with which he

ate his food, the bottle from which he drank, his battle axe and cross

bow which played havoc in many an affray; there is generally too a spread

of Indian corn or other food, which the thoughtful and sorrowing wives

have placed in readiness for his return visit to earth. How safe these

memorial tombs are from desecration may be gathered from the fact that

very frequently considerable sums of native currency are strewn upon the

floor. These little tombs are also surrounded with numerous carved images

erected on poles. The Baketi have another custom which is, I believe,

quite unique in West Central Africa. Outside every village are large

forest clearings covered with grass, and dotted over these meadow-like

lands may be seen the strange sight of trees rooted up and planted

upside down—the branches having been lopped off or the tree trunk cut

through the middle and planted with the roots in the air. The sight of

these clearings, involving a considerable expenditure of labour, covered

with scores—sometimes hundreds—of these symbolic monuments, is most

impressive.

[Illustration: THE “HEALING” FETISH.]

[Illustration: THE BAKETI MEMORIAL GROUND. TREES UPROOTED AND PLANTED

BRANCHES DOWNWARDS IN MEMORY OF THE DEAD.]

The Baketi have elaborate ceremonials at births and marriages. A special

house is always built for the birth of a child, the mother being conveyed

to the dwelling an hour or so before the expected time, as is likewise

the case with a dying person. Another curious custom which prevails

amongst these people, and strangely enough we found precisely the same

custom a thousand miles north amongst the Ngombe tribes of Bopoto, yet

nowhere in the intervening territories, forbids any young woman to

definitely enter into marriage relations until one end of the interior

of her house is closely packed with neatly cut logs of firewood! This

usually means about three hundred logs, measuring eighteen inches in

length and two feet in circumference. The idea appears to be that of

demonstrating the domestic capacity of the bride-elect.

With every West African tribe there are customs peculiar to the

individual community, but they are generally trivial, or variations of

customs prevailing amongst the surrounding tribes. Amongst Congo tribes

only the Baketi apparently possess customs so completely unique.

(_a_) CICATRIZATION

[Sidenote: CICATRIZATION]

Cicatrizing is practised more or less over the whole of West Central

Africa. In some parts like the Bangalla and Equatorial regions of the

Congo, the patterns are extremely elaborate and involve much patient

labour on the part of the artist and prolonged suffering by the

individual.

[Illustration: THE SWASTIKA CICATRICE.]

[Illustration: THE OYSTER SHELL CICATRICE.]

Cicatrizing is often confounded with tattooing, but the latter process

is entirely different, and is of course most largely in vogue amongst

the Maoris and seafaring men. The word cicatrization is derived from

the French medical term which designates the scars left by a healed

wound and implies a raised portion of the flesh, whereas tattooing is

an indentation coupled with the insertion of indelible dyes. Strangely

enough the Baluba tribes south of the Congo tattoo themselves, and in

this respect are unique in West Africa. Both men and women readily

subject themselves to the cicatrizing knife, but generally speaking women

are more liberally marked than men.

In the Bangalla regions of the Congo, the facial markings resemble the

surface of a coarse rasp, whilst the women content themselves with

large shell patterns on the lower part of the stomach. Along the main

Congo and some of the tributaries, the marking which finds most favour

is the “coxcomb” in the centre of the forehead; this is sometimes cut

quite deeply. The hinterland tribes of the Equatorial rivers almost

without exception adopt the oyster shell pattern just below the temple,

but the women, in addition, are prodigally marked with “knobs,” small

“oyster shells” and “bead strings” all over the body, particularly on

the thighs. Amongst the Batetela, the forearm is usually covered with a

pattern identical with the Cornish “one and all” motto, often also with

a sunflower pattern running from the navel up to the shoulder, sometimes

to the right, but more often to the left. In the Kasai territories there

is first the one general cicatrice imposed on the people by the historic

northern conqueror Wuta, a “white” chieftain of prodigious valour and

energy, who, apparently more than five hundred years ago, swept through

the whole region founding new dynasties and placing the tribes under

tribute of soldiers and money. This hustling personage, it is said,

reached what is now Rhodesia, but so great was, and is, the fear of his

spirit that everyone to-day bears his cicatrice. The Bakuba, Bashilele,

Baketi, Bushongos and Lulua, all bear their distinctive marks, many of

the women having the whole thigh covered with a “herring bone,” and

the men carrying a mark similar to the Grecian “key” pattern. In the

Portuguese Enclave and the Mayumbe territory of the Congo, the whole of

the back is frequently covered by a single pattern and on the back of one

woman we found a marking which is clearly the Swastika.

[Sidenote: THE ARTIST IN BLOOD]

The operation is, of course, distinctly painful. The subject sits on the

ground or on a log of wood, whilst the operator cuts deeply into the

flesh with the knife held at such an angle that a considerable wound

will result. Think of sitting still whilst this crude hand-made piece of

native steel is dug into the flesh something like twenty or thirty times

within half an hour! Once I was able to watch the process; the woman

desired a “lace pattern” made from the shoulder blades to the waist,

involving altogether four lines, which meant nearly two hundred cuts. She

sat outside her hut, and bending down slightly to stretch the skin, the

intended pattern was marked in chalk, and then the operator, taking his

small cicatrizing knife in his right hand, proceeded to grasp between

the thumb and forefinger of the left successive small portions of flesh,

gashing each till the blood flowed freely. Then he started the other side

of the body, returning again to cut the third line, and back to the

second to link the pattern up with the fourth.

I watched the woman closely, and as the knife dipped into the flesh she

made a grimace, but between the cuts, laughingly and with considerable

spirit replied to my comments. At the conclusion of the operation, she

calmly walked to the nearest tree and gathered a few leaves to wipe up

the blood which by this time was streaming down her body. The operator,

according to custom, threw over the wounds a handful of powdered camwood

which, however, has less antiseptic than drying properties.

[Illustration: CICATRICED WOMEN OF EQUATORVILLE.]

[Illustration: THE BANGALLA “RASP” CICATRICE.]

It is not easy to light upon such operations, which are generally carried

out more or less privately, and in all my years of residence in Africa,

this was the only occasion on which I have been able to watch throughout

an elaborate cicatrization. It is, however, a familiar sight to meet

natives with their bodies newly cut. On the day after the incisions have

been made the wounds swell and suppurate, greatly to the delight of the

hosts of insect life which swarm everywhere in Central Africa. These

surround the wounded body of the native and only by a continuous flicking

of grass or twig brushes can the suffering victim obtain even comparative

freedom from the tortures which every movement of the body imposes, but

in the course of a few months the pattern originally cut in the body

stands out firm and clear. In those cases where still more emphatic

designs are desired, the cicatrice will be re-opened and raised higher

still until the prominence is quite pronounced, in others, after a lapse

of a few months, still more lines and still more “knobs” will be added

until the age of twenty to thirty. After this the desire for adornment

ceases and the body rests from its tortures.

What is it that attracts? What power is it which buoys up the spirit

under these painful operations? What is the secret which gives this

insatiable desire for fleshy adornment?—a desire firmly rooted in the

breast of every section of the community and shared by young and old

alike. I well remember an orphan child, of about three summers, standing

in the roadway crying bitterly, and upon my asking the cause, she told me

that being an orphan no one had enough interest in her to cut a “coxcomb”

on her forehead. Secreting a small bottle of red ink, I told her to sit

on the table, and by a series of pinchings and finger-nail marks on

her forehead, coupled with a smearing of red ink over my white hands,

calmed the little mite into the belief that her heart’s desire was being

gratified. After about ten minutes she was supremely happy in the thought

that she too possessed a “coxcomb.” Her delight was unbounded, until the

little mischief caught sight of her natural forehead in a mirror!

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE AND TRIBAL MARKINGS]

No doubt the principal motive for this passion is the love of personal

adornment, of which the African assuredly does not retain a monopoly.

Hitherto the hinterland tribes have had no access to those artificial

aids to personal adornment, which are laid so temptingly before the youth

of civilization. They will tell you they have had no alternative but to

“adorn” their only garb—nature’s dusky skin, and none would deny, that

there is a certain beauty even in these barbarous forms of embellishment.

The critic may observe that the beauty of womanhood is obviously not

enhanced by the bold use of the cicatrizing knife, but I would remind

that critic that the wife without a body fairly well covered with

cicatrization finds but scant favour with the other sex. In Africa the

European youths of fashion have their counterpart, and in the direction

of the most daintily cicatrized maiden, are cast the most amorous

glances, and offers of handsome dowries to the admiring parents for the

hand of their captivating daughter.

Other reasons doubtless play a part, among them the question of tribal

ownership of wives, and the necessity of placing a distinctive and

indelible mark upon the body. Constant internecine warfare, too, demanded

a mark which would make easy the task of discriminating the warriors of

the respective combatants.

Patriotism, relationship and love of adornment, combine in giving to

the African the extraordinary fortitude which this prolonged operation

demands, but the disappearance of internal warfare, the increasing

importation of cheap jewellery and gaudy clothing, and the advance of

Christian civilization, is robbing this custom of its _raison d’être_,

and in another generation the little African boys and girls will only

learn from books of this curious custom of their grandfathers and

grandmothers, for cicatrization, as practised to-day, will have perished

within another twenty-five years.

(_b_) PERSONAL ADORNMENT

Left to nature, the African, dissatisfied with his personal charms, looks

about him for some means for adding adornment to his body. In the absence

of finely woven cloths and silks, he covers his person with ornamental

markings, and his woolly hair he makes to take the place of head-gear.

In two respects only his tastes accord with those of the European—metal

ornaments and rouge powder.

Most African tribes wear some cloth. The wild Ngombe on the southern

banks of the main Congo, skilled in ironwork but ignorant of weaving,

wear a vegetable cloth which they strip from the inner side of the

coarse bark of a forest tree. Many of their women content themselves

with only a few cicatrized patterns, and this is most noticeable in the

hinterland of Bangalla, north of the Congo. A peculiar feature, however,

is that all these women, though completely nude, wear a thin piece of

string round the loins. When photographing a group, I suggested the

removal of these strings, because they seemed to imply that normally a

cloth or leaf was thereby suspended; but the women, at this, to me, most

innocent suggestion, all became exceedingly angry and threatened to run

away. Finally, I managed to restore good relations, and we succeeded

in obtaining an excellent photograph. It was evident that some deep

significance attached to wearing this almost invisible cord, but what

that significance was I could not discover.

[Sidenote: HAIRDRESSING]

Hairdressing ranks almost equal in importance with cicatrization, and

practically any day the traveller passing through the villages may see

some native stretched lazily upon a mat on the ground, the head resting

on the lap of the hairdresser—generally one of the opposite sex. In

Spanish Guinea, and on the islands off Batanga, the style of hairdressing

is that of long plaits, sometimes a dozen in number, running out in

all directions from the top of the head. In French and Belgian Congo

the style most favoured is the helmet and in some cases the mitre form;

in these the hair is braided up until it adds apparently about five or

six inches to the stature. In many parts of the Cameroons, as well as

in French and Belgian Congo, the hair thus built up is covered with a

mixture of oil and camwood powder, and thus offers a solid protection

against the fierce rays of the tropical sun.

[Illustration: BANGALLA CHIEF WITH HEAD TIGHTLY BOUND FROM BIRTH.]

[Illustration: BANGALLA BABE WITH HEAD TIGHTLY BOUND.]

Amongst the Boela people of Bangalla, the custom prevails of binding

the crown of an infant’s head with tough cord soon after birth, and

this head-binding is maintained throughout life. The effect is that of

an elongated or sugar-loaf skull which is greatly emphasized when the

hair is prominently braided around it. We observed men of all ages with

their heads bound in this manner, but they did not appear to suffer any

discomfort, and the mental powers of the tribe were in no sense below the

average.

Rouge finds great favour in the personal adornment of the African.

The powder is obtained from the camwood tree, and in almost every

well-regulated household in the forest regions may be seen let into the

ground a log of wood some eighteen inches in diameter, while a piece of

smaller dimensions lies near at hand. The housewife, in order to obtain

the colouring, rubs—or more correctly grinds—one piece on the other,

which, with the aid of either water or oil, causes a thick red paste

to exude, which is then made into cones and placed in the sun. When

thoroughly dry, it is either pressed into a powder and sprinkled over

the body, or the person is anointed with a mixture of the powder and palm

oil; in either case imparting a bright red appearance.

In war times, at festivals, and on feast days, an enormous amount of

rouge is used, and the red bodies of the tribes are rendered extremely

grotesque by the addition of white clay markings which stand out very

clearly on the red background.

[Illustration: A FIVE FOOT BEARD.]

[Illustration: STYLES OF ARUWIMI HEAD-DRESS.]

For the most part the West African tribes extract all the hair from the

body with the exception of the head, the beard and moustache. The task is

almost a daily one, and in the case of a man is generally undertaken by

one or more of his wives. Little boys and girls submit willingly to the

removal of their eyebrows and eyelashes.

Brass anklets and necklaces are much prized by the natives throughout

West Africa. The Mongo tribes of the Congo wear anklets weighing

sometimes 10 pounds on each ankle, and the whole set of ornaments,

including the collar, will turn the scale at 35 pounds. In the Leopoldian

régime these valuable ornaments were a contributory cause to the

atrocities, for the rubber soldiery would always seek out the women in

possession of such anklets and collars, and, as they were welded on the

body, would not hesitate to chop off the foot, the hand, or even the head

in order to obtain the ornaments.

[Sidenote: THE PRICE OF ADORNMENT]

I once heard a neat retort from an African woman. The questioner was a

white lady who had been pointing out the pain caused by wearing these

heavy articles of adornment. The dialogue ran as follows:—

_White Woman_: Why do you wear anklets which cause you so much

pain? _African Woman_: Beauty is worth pain.

_White Woman_: Surely you do not suffer such torture in order

to appear beautiful?

_African Woman_: Tell me then, white woman, why do you suffer

pain by tying yourself so tightly in the waist, like a woman

suffering the pangs of hunger?

How far these simple customs should be checked has always seemed to me a

matter of doubt, but in the internal government of missions they cause

serious dissensions among the staff. Not a few missionaries, and some

government officials, seem to feel called upon to place these old-time

customs almost on the level of criminal offences.

In one mission no natives may sit down to Holy Communion with their hair

braided and oiled, nor may they enjoy the full privileges of Church

membership if they use camwood powder on their bodies; this is the more

outrageous when, within a few days’ canoe journey, there is another

Christian mission where one lady missionary at least is evidently well

acquainted with the use of delicately scented rouge. In another mission,

cicatrizing, the extraction of the eyelashes, men dressing the hair of

women or vice versâ, are sufficient to warrant suspension from Church

membership.

In all conscience there is enough that is evil in humanity, both white

and coloured, to make the decalogue sufficiently hard of attainment,

without human agencies arbitrarily introducing non-essentials which make

it grievous to be borne.

(_c_) “THE ANGEL OF DEATH”

[Sidenote: THE DEATH OF THE AFRICAN]

The wildness of the African hinterland, the frequency of bloody feuds,

the ever present unhealthiness, almost daily materializes the hand of

death. From the moment the traveller touches the coast of Sierra Leone,

he is never far from the tragedy of early and violent deaths, accounts of

which reach him at every port.

The native’s fear of death is immortalized in his many boat songs,

his legends and traditions, as well as in those elaborate systems of

fetishism which are used to ward off the imaginary proximity of Death’s

angel.

This was the feature of African life which so impressed Du Chaillu on his

first visit to West Africa. “Are you ready for death?” he sometimes asked

the natives. “No,” would be the hasty reply, “never speak of that,” and

then, says Du Chaillu, “a dark cloud settled on the poor fellow’s face;

in his sleep that night he had horrid dreams, and for a few days he was

suspicious of all about him, fearing for his poor life lest it should be

attacked by a wizard.”

Cursing in West Africa, which almost invariably takes the form of

invoking death upon some relative, is one of the most frequent causes

of trouble. A curse hurled at himself, the African merely resents, and

returns the compliment, but let a man invoke death upon another’s mother

or sister, and the dagger leaps instantly from its scabbard, or the spear

goes hurtling through the air with deadly precision.

“May you die” is the most common form of cursing, which brings the

sharp retort, “And you also.” The curses, “May the leopard catch your

mother,” “May the crocodile eat your sister,” call forth instant battle.

The explanation of this strong resentment and intensity of feeling is

found in the fact that the African firmly believes that when a curse is

pronounced the unfortunate person is thereby accursed.

No man ever goes on a journey, no matter how short, without a string

of charms about his neck, to ward off the grim form of death, which he

believes lurks in every forest, along every river, in every home. There

is one charm to protect from violent death through wild animals, there is

one to protect from death at the hands of strangers, but chiefest of all

is that little charm stuffed away in the ram’s horn, which is a perfect

safeguard against the death curse of strangers whom the traveller may

meet when on his way from village to village.

The traveller cannot escape the sorrow and despair of death which surely

is nowhere so marked as at the death of the African. For days, maybe,

the sufferer has lain without any perceptible change, either for better

or worse; then, perhaps, the watcher observes a sign which shews that

the end is not far off, and the word goes round the village that Bomolo

cannot live long.

Silently, one after another, the relatives creep into the hut and sit

upon cooking pots, mats, stools and logs of wood, until the hut is

filled with men and women knit together with a common sorrow. The strong

man they have remembered in the sylvan chase, the keen fisherman, or

possibly the courageous warrior they have known and admired, and in their

beautiful simplicity loved, is stretched upon the hard bamboo bed which

his busy hands had made. The watchers can see that it is only a matter

of hours and the general weeping is at first silent, occasionally ceasing

when the sick one speaks or calls for something. The nearer relatives rub

and bathe the limbs which begin to chill; one or two affectionately hold

a foot, a hand, or a finger; the favourite wife, as her right and duty,

tenderly nurses the head.

In proportion as the weakness increases, the crying becomes more audible;

then louder still the women cry, invoking all the spirits of the other

world to surrender their grip and restore to life and vigour their

beloved tribesman. Some momentarily cease crying and call to Bomolo to

“speak words of farewell,” and the fact that the dying man is unable to

reply is a signal for louder wailing still. At last comes the dreadful

moment when their friend ceases to breathe. For the space of a few

seconds, a breathless and awful silence prevails, whilst brother and wife

listen to the heart beat; then, with a terrible shriek which rends the

air, the wife cries, “He is gone!”

Words fail to describe this scene! How can the pen adequately portray the

bursting of the pent-up misery of these scores of relatives as, in their

agony, they twist and writhe in the dust. Wildly despairing, they grasp

in frenzy the corpse or the bed, and then releasing their hold, they

throw up their arms and again roll in the dust, not infrequently into the

log fire which smoulders on the floor of the hut, scattering the embers

amongst the tumbling and twisting mass of wailing humanity. What matter

those burning scars?—the frenzy of a terrible sorrow consumes reason and

chases into oblivion the pains of cut, bruised, scalded and burnt bodies.

[Illustration: THE WITCH.]

[Illustration: SLAVE GRAVEYARD ON THE ISLAND OF SAN THOMÉ.]

An hour later, the storm having spent its fury, the body is washed and

prepared for the grave, but the wailing still goes on rising and falling

in a monotonous cadence like the moan of a dying gale at sea. There is

no escape from that never-ceasing death wail until the body is buried,

which, in most villages, is generally within forty-eight hours. Then the

tide of weeping turns. A reaction sets in and the weird dancing to drive

away the evil spirits continues throughout the night, until mourners and

relatives revive sufficiently for the task of partitioning the wives and

other worldly goods of the deceased.

The death customs differ with almost every tribe. In the watershed of

the Lopori, Aruwimi and Maringa rivers of the Congo towards the Egyptian

and Uganda borders, the corpse is frequently hung for weeks over a fire

and thoroughly smoke dried. A similar custom prevails in certain parts

of the middle and lower Congo. The corpse, however, is dressed in the

best clothes and placed for a day or two in a life-like sitting posture—a

gruesome and unnerving sight for the passing European. A hut in which

a traveller was resting on his journey was seen to have suspended from

the roof a deep wicker basket, from which a dark round object protruded.

This, on inquiry, he found to be the head of a child whose body, after

being smoke-dried, was hung there by the mother that she might look upon

the features of her cherished infant. Amongst the Bakwala tribe, the

custom prevails of smoking the body of a deceased wife who may be the

daughter of a distant tribe, in order that she may be sent home and find

burial amongst her own people.

Some of the Bakuba tribes on the Kasai, before life is actually extinct,

seize the body, bundle it unceremoniously out of the hut, and then

raising it shoulder high rush off to a distant and unoccupied hut that

the spirit may there take flight, and not from the home which they

believe the spirit would henceforward haunt. It is there prepared for

burial, the whole village meanwhile gathering at the house of the

deceased to take part in the general wailing.

(_d_) PEACE AND ARBITRATION

Most African tribes set the civilized world an example in their unwritten

methods of preventing war, or, after war has been declared, of bringing

it to an early termination. If it were possible to exile the Foreign

Ministers of the Great Powers of Europe to the hinterland of their

respective colonies—Sir Edward Grey to remote Barotseland, Baron von

Kilderlen Waechter to the Sanga in German Cameroons, and Monsieur De

Sélves to the Ubangi—where they could divide their time between fishing

and studying the peace principles of barbarous tribes, I have little

doubt they would return to civilization with more practical ideas upon

peace than they will ever learn in the despatch encrusted offices of

London, Berlin and Paris.

[Sidenote: THE “PALAVER”]

The African detests war and will make great sacrifices to prevent the

outbreak of hostilities. The two principal causes of war are (1) land;

(2) wives. Slave raiding does not belong to the African; the Arab

imported it. Before war breaks out there is first the “palaver,” which

may last many days or weeks. In palaver the debates differ but little

from the parliaments of the world, except perhaps that custom keeps

womanhood out of general debates, although where the particular interests

of women are concerned, I have seen them throw themselves into the

debates in a manner no whit less collected and impressive than the men.

[Illustration: THE WITCH DOCTOR WITH HIS CHARMS FOR EVERY ILL.]

The African revels in debate, and possibly this accounts to some extent

for the admitted passion for litigation which now animates the civilized

centres of the African colonies. The orators of the primitive tribes are

no less masters of the art than their eloquent compeers at Lagos and

Freetown. I was once asked to visit a first-class palaver and found a

huge semi-circle of people closely massed together. Soon after my arrival

the chief took his seat and one could almost hear the policemen of St.

Stephen’s calling out, “Speaker in the chair!” for a similar signal was

given for the palaver to commence.

The chief, surrounded by his advisers, called upon the speakers in turn;

first to the right, then to the left, so that all sides might be heard.

The “palaver” had commenced about nine o’clock, and at mid-day sun only

four speakers had been heard. The fifth, who was an orator of some

repute, rose from his stool where he had been reclining, drank from the

calabash of water handed him by his wife, and then adjusting his loin

cloth and picking up his notes—a bundle of twigs as remembrancers of the

various points—he stepped forward. With an air of complete mastery of his

facts, he sped on quietly for the first quarter of an hour; at the close

of every period he turned to his supporters for approving applause,

which was given in a chorus of assenting “Oh’s.” From calm and reasoned

recital of facts, he then passed on to his deductions, and for another

quarter of an hour he drove his points home amid the now increasing

interest and applause of his own side and the derisive laughter of the

opposition.

At the end of half an hour, excitement was beginning to run high. The

orator now threw himself into a final effort; gathering up his facts and

deductions, he charged the other side with every species of deception

and fraud, and as he did so he danced to and fro with his body bathed in

perspiration. Every sentence now was punctuated by the almost frenzied

applause of his supporters. In his concluding sentences he made a fervid

appeal for justice, all the while moving backward towards his expectant

friends and wives. He uttered his concluding sentence with arms waving

aloft and then swooned into the arms of half a dozen wives who emptied

their calabashes over that quivering perspiring body. This man had

never read the trial of Warren Hastings, but I could not help recalling

Sheridan as the African orator lay there apparently in a dead swoon—I

knew of course that he was inwardly rejoicing in his great feat and

in the applause which awoke the echo and re-echo in the great forests

immediately behind us.

If this “full dress” palaver fails to secure an amicable settlement, the

tribes in the Congo basin do not abandon their efforts. They surround the

villages with sentinels and adopt various defensive measures, but before

hostilities actually begin, they select a sort of “daysman,” who, to

act in this capacity, must be of peculiar relationship to both tribes;

that is to say he must be able to claim parentage in both dissentient

communities.

The daysman goes forth wearing a fringed and partially dried plantain

leaf sash thrown over the shoulder so that the sentinels of both tribes

immediately recognize him and his sacred office. It is very seldom this

arbitrator fails to secure a peaceful termination of the dispute. If he

does fail and hostilities break out causing loss of life, he immediately

renews his efforts; indeed he never ceases that constant passing to and

fro on his errand of peace and goodwill.

[Sidenote: PEACE CONFERENCE]

The proposal to sheathe the sword, or, more accurately, to unstring

the bows and cleanse the poisoned arrow heads, is followed by another

palaver. It was once my good fortune to be invited to act as arbitrator

at one of these interesting proceedings.

The drums in all the surrounding country were beaten at cockcrow and

immediately the two tribes, under their respective chiefs and headmen,

began marching towards the rendezvous—a clearing in the forest outside

the village at which we were staying.

I was rather alarmed at the fact that though this was a peace conference,

every member of that great concourse carried not only spears, but bows

and arrows, and I knew that the slightest indiscretion would precipitate

a bloody fight.

All the old history was retailed again through that long and burning hot

day. Once or twice a speaker raised the devil in his opponents; spears

were gripped and arrows snatched from their quivers, but at last better

counsels prevailed and terms were agreed upon. The question at issue was

a boundary dispute, but lives had been lost and prisoners taken on both

sides. The boundary was readjusted to the apparent satisfaction of both

parties, prisoners exchanged and compensation paid for the killed on

either side—this latter surely an advance on “civilized” terms of peace

by the way!

The ceremony of “signing the peace” is not the least interesting part.

First a strip of leopard skin was secured and then a bunch of palm

nuts. The skin was pinned to the ground by a dagger, and each chief and

headman followed me in driving the dagger deeper into the earth. When

it was firmly fixed the leopard skin was drawn first one way, then the

other, until it had been completely severed. A half was given to a young

chieftain of each tribe, and they were instructed to “haste to the river,

young men, throw the separated skins upon the waters that all men may

know the quarrel is now cut in pieces (_i.e._, is destroyed).” This done,

the bunch of palm nuts was taken and a spear from each party driven into

the head of nuts. Two more men were selected, again from each tribe, and

instructed to “Carry that head of nuts carefully, young men, throw them

into the river that all men may know that our spear heads are buried,

that fighting is over and peace made for ever and for ever.”

In this exceptional case the “for ever and for ever” only lasted three

months! but in the great majority of such cases peace though threatened

is maintained for many a year.

V

THE NATIVE AS A MONEY MAKER

If the African woman is a prudent banker, the man is the money maker. The

range of remuneration they receive for their labour is no less divergent

than one finds in Europe. The Sierra Leone native will obligingly row you

ashore to Freetown in fifteen minutes “for two bob, Sah”; but his brother

paddler on the Chiloango, or the Congo, will paddle for you throughout a

week for 5_d._ a day, coupled with a plump bat or the leg of a monkey by

way of rations.

There is one form of money making which is fastening its fell grip ever

more firmly upon the middle-class African—money lending. It is extremely

difficult to deal with this question in West Africa by legislation, but

a good deal can be accomplished in various directions by a watchful

administration. One case brought to my notice was that of a cook who

was compelled to pay £2 10_s._ interest on a loan of £4 for six months.

Another one was that of a teacher who required a loan of £6, for which he

had to pay 12_s._ per month interest. I was also assured that frequently

10_s._ a month interest is exacted for small loans of £1. In some parts

of the Gold Coast borrowers find themselves in such straits that they are

often compelled to pawn their children.

[Sidenote: WAGES AND WIVES]

The wages of agricultural labourers vary very considerably. In Southern

Nigeria labourers working for native employers receive from 15_s._ to

20_s._ per month. The contracted labourers on the islands of the Gulf of

Guinea—that is Fernando Po, San Thomé and Principe—are all “contracted”

at paper wages, varying from 10s. to 15_s._ per month, but neither under

the Spanish or Portuguese Administrations do they receive more than half

their pay when it is due, the other half being placed in the hands of the

Curador. In German Cameroons the wage is seldom more than 10_s._ a month,

and more often the labourers only receive 8_s._ In the hinterland of

Belgian and French Congo, the unskilled labourer receives from 6_s._ to

8_s._ per month. All these wages are exclusive of board and lodging, but

generally a certain amount of clothing is supplied freely. In many parts

of the various colonies, however, stores are opened by the plantation

owners to tempt the labourer into purchasing goods which usually carry a

respectable profit.

The hardest work and the poorest pay falls to the carrier; that patient

burden bearer rarely gets, in any part of Africa, more than about 9_d._

per day for his heavy task. The Upper Congo was thrown open to the

advance forces of civilization by a continuous stream of carriers, who

occupied from a fortnight to three weeks reaching Stanley Pool from

Matadi, a journey for which they seldom received more than a sovereign

a load. “Big money,” however, is earned by the cocoa carriers of the

Gold Coast, but the conditions are entirely abnormal. The cocoa carrying

enterprise as at present organized cannot be other than a temporary

expedient and the general army of African carriers will have to be

content with a wage varying from 4_s._ 6_d._ to 7_s._ a week.

The African is by nature a trader, and no more honest than many Europeans

in his business transactions, and on the whole I am afraid less honest

than the reputable business houses of West Africa. It is only fair

to say that the native merchants trained under the rigid standard of

European firms—particularly the Basel Mission of the Gold Coast—maintain

a standard of honest trading which does credit to the firms under which

they received their commercial education.

The ambition of most young men on the Upper Congo is focussed upon wives.

Without earthly possessions, their only hope of matrimonial bliss is in

the death of a relative from whom they may “inherit” a partner, if there

is a disparity in age an “exchange” is always possible, subject, of,

course, to an additional dowry. But this chance is remote and the waiting

time is always long, tedious, and full of social complications. One

day a young man in the Congo endowed with more than the usual share of

courage and trading instinct, hit upon a plan which has for years found

increasing favour. The captains of steamers could only with difficulty

work their boats up and down that 2000 miles of waterway between Stanley

Pool and the great tributaries of the Upper Congo, for lack of wood fuel

from the forests. Here, then, was the chance for the enterprising native.

He bargained with the white man upon the following basis. To travel with

him to Stanley Pool and back again, a journey occupying four weeks, to

cut a square yard of wood every night on the journey, and to be allowed

to sleep during the day. The wages for this enterprise to be ten francs

payable at Stanley Pool, and the free transport back again of one bag of

salt and one box of sundries. This suggestion, sound in its common-sense,

giving the white man fuel without trouble, was promptly agreed upon,

and with ten others on the same terms the contract was confirmed. The

white man went to his bunk that night, happy in the thought that for one

journey at least he would be saved the eternal “wooding palaver.” The

native youths, too, went to sleep, and possibly dreamed of the wedded

bliss which was now so unexpectedly within sight.

Four weeks later the “Stern Wheeler” returned and put the respective wood

cutters ashore at their different villages, each with a bag of salt and

a few sundries purchased at Stanley Pool with the 10 francs. The eyes

of certain comely young African women shone brightly that night as they

heard of the brilliant enterprise of their prospective mates. A few days

later two or three parties in small canoes pushed away from the banks

and started on a ten days’ journey up one of the small tributaries which

abound everywhere on the Upper Congo. In each canoe were precious bags

of salt and a tiny spoon for retailing the “white powder” to distant

tribes. A fortnight later family palavers were held and a sufficient

dowry laid at the feet of the damsel’s father. The nightly wood-chopping

enterprise had produced 10 francs which had in turn obtained a bag of

salt, a hundred common safety pins and a cheap mirror. The salt and pins

had disappeared and there lay on the ground in their place the coveted

dowry of £2 sterling in native money for the father, and a mirror for the

mother of the native bride who now gladly joined her husband for better

or for worse. There is your African trading instinct!

Since that day many a young man has followed that example, but with

competition dowries have risen and the value of European produce fallen.

Nevertheless, to-day, many a native on the Congo waterways is cutting

firewood to and from the ports in the hope of raising the wherewithal to

obtain his heart’s desire.

It is said of the Indian coolie that anywhere he will make two blades

grow to the one blade the white man can produce. In this respect the

African follows hard on the heels of his Indian rival. The white man will

often select what seems a most promising piece of land, but for some

reason his crops fail. The native will choose a little out-of-the-way

patch and cultivate it in a style which calls forth a pitying, almost

contemptuous smile from the white, but somehow that native has struck

fertility and his crops flourish amazingly.

[Sidenote: AGRICULTURAL WAGES]

In Southern Nigeria I met several successful native farmers, who seem in

some respects to outdo their friends in the neighbouring colony of the

Gold Coast. One of these had some years ago bought 200 acres of land at

4_s._ per acre, and soon it was discovered that he had obtained a very

fertile patch and he was offered no less than £5 an acre and his crops

at valuation, but Mr. X. has a keen business head upon his shoulders and

finds it more profitable to cultivate cocoa, palm nuts and rubber than to

sell his land even at an enhanced price. Every time he makes a few pounds

he extends his plantation, “pulls down his barns and builds greater.”

This man has now a turnover of nearly £20,000 a year.

[Sidenote: THE KEEN TRADER]

There are scattered all down the coast in British colonies native traders

pressing on to positions of dominating influence. These men can handle

cargoes of four figures and pay at an hour’s notice. They receive regular

cable information of the prices of different commodities on the European

market, and several of them have branches which connect by telephone.

Most of them conduct their business on modern principles with typists,

cashiers, messenger boys and so forth. Not a few of them are frequently

in a financial position to strike a bargain and settle a transaction

before the European firm can get a cable reply from the home directors.

They are up-to-date traders in being able to supply anything which may

be demanded of them, or if not in stock they will promise it—and keep

the promise—on a given day. If an order is specially urgent and has to

come from Europe, a messenger will meet the ship, take off the package

and deliver it to the client within an hour or two of the ship’s arrival.

One of the most interesting transactions I know of occurred in a certain

British colony. A chief, for some reason, was in great need of a large

elephant’s tusk, and after fruitless endeavours to obtain one, a native

trader relieved the old man’s anxiety by offering to deliver a tusk

the required size, to cost about £80, within a month. Promptly to time

the tusk was delivered—the cute trader had cabled to Europe for it!

“Holts,” “Millers,” and other all-wise competitors in that town knew how

imperative it was that this old chief should have a big tusk, and I was

told they tried their “up country” stores, but it never occurred to them

to order from Europe. There again is the African trading instinct, which

put a clear £10 note in the trader’s pocket!

[Illustration: A NATIVE PLANTER IN HIS FUNTUMIA PLANTATION, SOUTHERN

NIGERIA.]

[Illustration: RUBBER COLLECTORS, KASAI RIVER, UPPER CONGO.]

The legal profession is beyond question the most lucrative in West

Africa, but this does not obtain in Africa alone. The mass of the people

have not yet learned to settle their troubles without the aid of the

legal community. The fees paid to the coast barristers are surprising.

I was informed that in one colony more than one native barrister has an

income of close on five figures. I had no reliable evidence upon this

and should think it an exaggeration, but the style in which the coast

barrister lives and moves must certainly require a substantial income.

Certain it is too that none are more generous with their money.

Unlike the medical profession, no colour-bar stands between the barrister

and the free exercise of his ability. Surely the position of these

medical men calls loudly for redress, the profession which, above all

others, is needed in the fever-haunted colonies of Africa, yet between

the increase of these men and the countless sufferers there is firmly

fixed the detestable colour-bar of prejudice.

Though the native has not yet become convinced of the safety of banking,

the sums placed by them on deposit in the three British colonies—Sierra

Leone, the Gold Coast and Nigeria, are nearly £80,000.

When we reflect upon these natives rising to positions of greater power

and influence in British colonies, and when we are prone to criticize

British administrations, it will not hurt any of us, either native or

European, to remember that less than a century ago these centres were

amongst the principal slave markets of the world.

VI

THE AFRICAN WOMAN

There is assuredly no country whose women are more interesting than those

of Central Africa. Certainly there can be no place on the habitable

globe where women are so continuously industrious. Amongst African women

there are no unemployed and no unemployables. In all the hinterland,

the women are the agriculturists. In the early morning, often before

sunrise, they file out of the village to their plots, perhaps a mile

away from the town, where there is always something to do; weeding and

planting being almost an integral part of the daily routine. When the

gardens have received attention, meals must be considered and the woman

proceeds to dig up the manioca tubers, but only to bury them beneath the

water in some forest stream or pool to extract the injurious element. In

a few days hence the load of sodden tubers will be ready for the native

culinary art.

[Sidenote: DAILY BREAD]

Ten minutes in the forest and the woman has gathered the fuel required

for her cooking; then loading her basket with the manioca left to

soak six days before, she places a layer of leaves between it and the

firewood, and shoulders her burden. She steps out brightly for home, in

company with perhaps another twenty matrons.

It is not every day that she is able to finish by noon, for in the

planting season the gardens demand her labour for whole days at a

stretch. Some weeks before the husband has perhaps started a new field

by cutting down at immense labour hundreds of trees, which lie there

scattered in all directions till the tropical sun dries up the leaves

and smaller branches. Then a torch at one end of the clearing starts the

whole area in a blaze.

It is at this stage that the wife comes along with her seeds and

cuttings, digging little mounds all over the area and raising the soil by

heaping upon it the cinders, dead leaves and ash, which provide the only

manure these primitive folk possess. Between the rows of manioca she may

plant gourds, Indian corn and ground nuts, and thus secure a general crop

all over her cultivated field.

From Sierra Leone right away to the north bank of the Kasai, these

domestic crops vary but little, but on arriving at the southern bank of

the Kasai, the change becomes very marked, for the extensive fields of

manioca and cassava give way to mealies as the staple food.

The field is the first charge, so to speak, upon the time of the African

woman, but to her belongs also the major responsibility for providing

the daily meals. The primitive African is almost a vegetarian, though he

dearly loves meat. Trapping edible fish is by no means frequent, and the

wife, knowing with her civilized sister how important it is to feed the

man, will often snatch an hour or two from her busy life and run to the

nearest stream and catch some “small fry,” with which to make savoury

the evening meal of cassava and pottage. In season she will hunt through

the forests for the caterpillars which abound on certain trees and which

by some tribes are regarded as great delicacies, particularly those

tribes inhabiting French and Belgian Congo and the Cameroons. The Gold

Coast people substitute large snails, of which they appear inordinately

fond.

There are four principal dishes which, with slight variations, prevail

throughout Western Africa:—

1. There is the staple food of manioca, which is sometimes boiled and

pounded into puddings, resembling a lump of glazier’s putty. Cassava or

sweet manioca is never soaked, but cooked fresh from the ground and is

much liked by Europeans.

2. The plantain, which is prepared in many forms by roasting, baking,

frying and boiling.

3. There is pottage, the body of which is composed of pounded leaves

from the manioca plant, closely resembling spinach. In most parts of the

tropics, green Indian corn is introduced freely into this dish.

4. There is the palm oil chop, which, as I have shewn in another part of

this book, is not a “chop” at all, but anything from a caterpillar or a

beetle to the leg of a dog or buffalo.

Perhaps next in importance to the position of agriculturist is that of

cook. Give the African woman a clay pot, a pestle and mortar and a few

leaves, and she will produce in quick time a meal which even a European

can relish. She is a trifle too fond of chili peppers and palm oil for

a sensitive palate and fully believes that a fair proportion of earth

and other etceteras add to the flavour and digestibility. Her husband,

with a natural weakness for chili peppers and oil, and himself not averse

to “foreign bodies” in his food, readily consumes nearly two pounds of

prepared manioca and pottage at a single meal.

[Sidenote: THE WOMAN IN THE HOME]

With cockcrow, the woman rises, steps outside the hut and in lieu of

washing herself, yawns two or three times, then stretches herself in

several directions, and is ready for the day’s work. She will first

sweep her hut, open the chicken-house, pluck a few dew-covered leaves

to wipe over the faces of the children, and then pick up her basket and

set out for the gardens. Returning, she will pull the fire logs together

and again shoulder her basket and go off to catch fish, or to hunt

caterpillars. Some of the older wives may stay in the village to fashion

clay cooking pots, weave baskets and mats, or crack palm kernels.

[Illustration: WOMEN POUNDING OIL PALM NUTS.]

About four o’clock, “when the monkeys in the forest begin to chatter,”

the women return to their huts and commence preparing for the principal

meal of the day. Above the hum of conversation, the passing jest, or the

humorous repartee, the clear ringing thud, thud, of pestle and mortar is

distinctly heard. Most dishes at some stage or the other are pounded. The

boiled manioca, the pottage leaves, the palm nuts, the plantains, all

find their way to the mortar, and no doubt the muscular physique of many

of the women is largely the result of the perpetual wielding of the heavy

wooden pestle.

The African woman is at home with any industry, hardly anything comes

strange to those deft fingers and muscular arms. The husband may go on

a journey by canoe, and his wife, or wives, will be there paddling

amidships and cooking the meals at intervals. The husband, however,

always takes the post of danger, which may be bow or stern, according

to the weather, the current, or the district through which they may be

passing.

Much has been written, backed by little knowledge, about the brutality of

man in making the woman carry the loads when on an overland journey. To

the uninitiated European, it may seem callous for a strong able-bodied

man to walk in front of a line of women every one of whom is struggling

along with a 50-pound load on her back. But make them change positions,

force the man to take the load, tell the women to walk in front, and

before you have gone many yards the women will all have bolted into the

bush, for the “Lord Protector” under a load is no longer ready to shield

them from the danger which lurks behind every tree and beneath almost

every leaf in the African forests. The African knows his business when

on a journey, and his first duty, from which no matter what the odds, he

never shrinks, is that of protecting his family from the ravages of wild

animals no less than the violence of hostile tribes. But to do this he

must be unencumbered and alert.

[Sidenote: WOMAN A MONEYMAKER]

The women of West Africa, by reason of their thrifty natures, are

frequently the bankers. To them the husband entrusts the keeping of his

worldly goods, and right sacredly they guard anything placed in their

keeping. Not only are the women trustworthy bankers, but as moneymakers

they are extremely keen. The finest business woman it has been my lot to

meet was a farmer woman of Abeokuta. This old lady could tell at sight,

almost to a penny, the value of a pile of kernels without weighing them.

I fell to discussing with her so technical a question as the possibility

of cotton in Southern Nigeria, and she was adamant in her opinion upon

this: “Unless they can guarantee me 1_d._ per pound for unginned cotton

and 4½_d._ per pound for the ginned, I would even prefer to grow yams.” I

gathered that on the whole she was not likely to become a shareholder in

any cotton producing company.

[Illustration: GRINDING CORN ON THE KASAI, UPPER CONGO.]

In the mart the women excel. It may be in the streets of Accra, Abeokuta,

Freetown, or in that finest of all marts in West Africa—Loanda, or

again in some wayside market of a tributary river in the far distant

hinterland. Wherever you find the market, the women are in control and

right merrily goes the auction. The din amounts to a pandemonium, the

tricks of the trade are to be looked for in every basket of fruit or

pile of vegetables. The eggs are probably old ones, carefully washed

and possibly doctored; that fowl tied by the legs could not walk from

sickness if it were free. Billingsgate, Smithfield, Covent Garden, rolled

into one could not be at once more entertaining, more noisy and more

novel than those African markets where you may buy almost everything you

want, and receive a great deal gratis that is not welcome.

THE AFRICAN WIFE

Is there any feature, social, political or religious so important in West

Africa as the wife and mother? No “teeming millions” are to be found

in the African tropics and every colony is crying out for more native

workers as the development of her industries gets beyond the fringe. As

a wife the African woman is generally but one of a number. In most coast

towns to-day the stress of modern competition has forced up the cost

of living, which together with the absorption of civilized ideas has

made monogamy—oftentimes, alas, only surface monogamy—the passport into

respectable society. But away from the coast towns, though it be only a

few miles away, polygamy is prevalent almost throughout West Africa.

Christian converts profess an abhorrence, and in many cases I am

satisfied a sincere abhorrence, of polygamy, but the fact remains that

this causes more trouble in the Christian Churches in West Africa than

all other evils put together. In the purely pagan areas there is no doubt

that the woman regards polygamy as a desirable condition; she argues

that the position of the husband is gauged by his many possessions—wives

and cattle, and that she prefers being the wife of a great man to that

of some insignificant fellow who can afford to keep but one! Again she

will point out, and with obvious truth, that if a man possesses several

wives, the burden of agriculture, of fishing, of kernel-cracking, and the

domestic duties spread over four, five or more persons is proportionately

lighter upon each individual.

[Illustration: A CHRISTIAN COUPLE RETURNING FROM THE GARDENS TOWARDS

SUNSET.]

[Illustration: WEAVING CLOTH IN THE KASAI, UPPER CONGO.]

Into the sentiment of polygamy there is also the practical consideration

of offspring. No matter how plain the daughters, no matter how slightly

cicatrized they may be, no matter what imperfections the boys may have,

if they are the children of a much married man they are certain to make

“good matches.” The sons may be certain of securing the daughters of

chiefs no less famous than their father; if a girl, her dowry will not

be her intrinsic worth, but will be gauged likewise by the position and

possessions of her father.

[Sidenote: INHERITED WIVES]

It does not seem to be generally recognized that there is both voluntary

polygamy and in a very real sense obligatory polygamy. A man inherits

wives from his father or uncle, just as he inherits other possessions.

In most cases of course he gladly accepts his inheritance. This, I know,

is a revolting custom to the European, but to the African not merely

desirable but the only honourable future for his father’s wives. His

own mother reigns as a sort of dowager Queen in the household and keeps

order in the harem of her son. I have often discussed this feature with

the women themselves and find that invariably they regard any other

course with the utmost repugnance. Why, they say, should they suffer the

disgrace of being passed on to other husbands; what evil have they done

that their rightful husband should disown them and refuse to accept them

as his wives? his father loved and cherished them, and why should the son

disgrace his father’s name by refusing to follow in his steps!

In one or two cases Christian men have actually put away wives whom

they have inherited in this manner, but the women concerned have always

felt that the shadow of disgrace has fallen upon them and that they are

outcasts from the social life of the tribe.

This custom, like most extreme polygamous concomitants, finds its fullest

development in the upper reaches of the Congo river, but it is also

found practically throughout the whole of the Congo basin.

[Sidenote: CHRISTIANITY AND POLYGAMY]

The general attitude adopted by missionaries in West Africa is that

of rigidly excluding the husband of more than one wife from Church

membership, and this no doubt accounts for the apparent lack of success

which statistics seem at first sight to demonstrate. Almost every

missionary, however, will point out to the traveller, man after man who,

though not a member of his church is, he declares, with a regretful sigh,

“more of a Christian than the majority of our members.” The German Basel

Mission in the Cameroons excludes all polygamists from Church membership

and they have been fortunate in obtaining King Bell as a monogamist

member. In the “oil rivers” of the Niger, the same rigorous position is

taken up by the missionaries.

In not a few churches in Southern Nigeria, polygamists are certainly

admitted to membership of the churches. These men if not openly

polygamous are notoriously so in private life.

The Christian Church has, in polygamy, a problem which at present

defies solution; the custom is so much an integral part of African life

that a conversion to Christianity involves an abrupt termination of

the convert’s former habits, the effects of which reach far beyond the

individual most intimately concerned. One of the greatest difficulties is

that of the outcast wives. In one Mission in Southern Nigeria if a man

becomes a Christian convert he is asked to call his wives together and

explain his position, then to select one, put the others away and provide

for their maintenance. But even this involves a sense of injustice and

is, I am told, fruitful in many cases of deplorable results. The women

thus set aside regard themselves not unnaturally as outcasts, as they

have lost the affection of their husbands and are therefore in disgrace.

In many cases, I am told, these women become either temporarily or

permanently the mistresses of other men who do not hesitate to taunt them

with the fact that they are outcasts from ordinary native society.

No doubt there are exceptional cases where women so put away find mates

amongst the bachelor members of the Christian community, but even these

young fellows—and more particularly their parents—are not always over

anxious to accept as a wife for their son the woman whom another man has

set aside.

The Honourable Sapara Williams, one of the ablest men in West Africa,

expressed the opinion that it is imperative the Christian Church should

find some other solution than exists to-day for this difficulty if it

is to maintain and increase its hold upon the native tribes of tropical

Africa. We see already a native Christian Community in Southern Nigeria

known as the African Church existing avowedly upon a polygamous basis

and growing rapidly in membership and influence. This Church is entirely

self-supporting and is becoming more and more propagandist. In the course

of time it may easily produce what will be called an “African Wesley,”

or an “African Spurgeon,” and the result we can foresee. The African _en

masse_ is inflammable material and intensely patriotic; let such a man

emerge from their ranks and the doctrines he preaches will spread like

wildfire.

It is universally recognized that in case of any modification of the

attitude now adopted by the European government of Christian Churches,

thousands of adherents would be secured in every colony. The heroic

attitude hitherto adopted surrenders to Mohammedanism a potent factor in

the propagation of its beliefs, hence the extraordinary advance made by

the apostles of the prophet.

There is evidence that the position maintained by the Christian Churches

as a whole upon this aspect of its work leads to widespread immorality

amongst Church members, but wherever it becomes too notorious, the

delinquents are, with certain exceptions, excluded from membership.

It will be readily seen therefore that should any single Christian

denomination once lower its standard in this respect, converts would

flock to it in thousands. The African Church does this, and springing

from the people themselves, meets the situation. Its members probably

represent the Christian natives of the near future in Southern Nigeria,

men for the most part commercially successful, boldly solving their own

problems, living an easy-going and comfortable life, their religious

standard lowered to their own desires. Can we criticize them? If we do,

we must beware, for they will tell us that it is more honest to live open

polygamous lives than the fraudulent lives of professing Christians—white

and black—whose hypocritical attitude, particularly on sex questions, is

a by-word on the West Coast of Africa. I fear there is too much truth in

this retort. White men, at least, must hold their peace, and there lies

the greatest danger!

[Sidenote: POLYGAMY AND THE BIRTH RATE]

It is generally accepted that polygamy is productive of a high birth

rate, and Sir William Muir has given this as one reason for the almost

miraculous advance of Mohammedanism. It may have been, and may still be

true to-day of Mohammedanism that polygamy produces a high birth rate,

but that existing polygamists in tropical Africa to-day produce a greater

number of births than monogamists is, I am satisfied, open to serious

question. At the same time I think it is clear that prior to European

occupation, polygamist Africa maintained a higher birth rate than is

possible under modern conditions.

The reason for this is not far to seek, for the chiefs, possessing as

they did unrestricted power over the community, could terrorize into

complete submission every unit of the tribe. Wherever polygamy existed

the wife was kept faithful to the one husband by the knowledge that

unchastity was forthwith rewarded by instant death. The young men also

knew that a _liaison_ meant either that they were sold into slavery,

involving in all probability ultimate sacrifice, or they would be hanged

on the nearest tree.

This is so even to-day amongst those tribes beyond the reach of white

men. One day, when crossing towards the main Congo river, I suddenly

heard wild shrieks from a person evidently in great danger. Rushing to

the spot, I found a woman bound hand and foot, and standing over her was

a burly young chief with an executioner’s knife raised aloft. In a moment

more that woman’s head would have been hacked off had I not promptly

gripped the man’s arm. With a terrible oath he attempted to spring upon

me, but the headmen of the village, who had also hurried to the scene,

fell upon him and wrenched the knife from his hand. For a quarter of an

hour nothing would stay the man’s fury; it took six of us to hold him.

Ultimately, however, he calmed down and explained to me that his wife had

been unfaithful and that she merited the death penalty. I gave him some

presents to appease him further and he agreed to forgive the woman if I

would “reward him.” As the gift he asked was to me a trivial matter, and

the only chance of saving the woman’s life, I gave it to him. The woman

herself, in gratitude, at once wrenched from off her wrists a bracelet

which she presented to me as a keepsake. I fear, however, that after I

left the village, she suffered a cruel death for her unfaithfulness. It

will be readily seen that these conditions are only possible in regions

where there is no restraining hand.

The question of the birth rate under monogamist and polygamist marriages

in West Africa has always been of absorbing interest to me and my diaries

are full of jottings bearing upon the subject, but very few are worth a

permanent record. Amongst the Christians of Accra many monogamists have

considerable families and from personal observation twins appeared to be

fairly frequent. In the hinterland, we were informed, that the “baku”—or

tenth child—is by no means rare amongst the “Twi” people. The largest

family we found amongst the monogamists of the Bangalla region of the

Congo was five children, the average appearing to be three. But West

Africa is very weak in reliable statistics.

In our recent journeys, I selected four areas and obtained with some

accuracy the composition of several groups of villages. It was

impossible to accept the figures from some districts because the people,

fearing there was some subtle move behind our requests, either gave

evasive replies or figures which were obviously inaccurate.

The following six groups, however, are reliable. They were gathered from

areas hundreds, and in one case over a thousand miles apart:—

Average Average Average

woman Offspring. per per

Men. Women. per man. Boys. Girls. Total. man. woman.

_Five Hinterland Villages of the Kasai._

A 241 316 1.315 70 81 151 0.626 0.477

(201 monogamists)

_River-side Villages on the Upper Congo._

B 26 45 1.875 14 15 29 1.115 0.644

C 41 54 1.317 5 4 9 0.222 0.166

D 16 42 2.625 10 6 16 1 0.380

_Hinterland Village, Upper Congo._

E 31 69 2.225 23 20 43 1.387 0.623

_Remote Hinterland Village, Upper Congo._

F 196 319 1.627 171 148 319 1.627 1

In group “C,” the principal polygamist possessed fifteen wives, but only

two children. Sixteen monogamists had no children.

Group “A” is taken from the Kasai, where monogamy most widely prevails,

but of the two hundred and one monogamists, one hundred and three had no

children. The principal polygamists possessed six, eight and thirteen

wives respectively. The two first had no children at all and the chief

with thirteen wives had two boys and three girls.

From these figures no deduction is possible as to the advantage of either

polygamy or monogamy upon the question of birth rate. One deduction only

is clear.

The birth rates in the following order are with estimated distance from

effective civilized Government:—

Average birth-rate Distance from effective

per woman. civilized Government.

Group C 0.166 10 minutes’ walk

” D 0.380 30 ” ”

” A 0.477 1 hour’s ”

” E 0.623 1 ” ”

” B 0.644 1½ ” ”

” F 1 2 days’ ”

The birth rate figures are lamentably low, and being selected from areas

so widely apart give anything but an encouraging indication for the

future of the Congo. The deductions from these figures is unmistakable

and only confirms what one hears everywhere, not only in the Congo but

all over the West Coast of the utter demoralization which is flooding

these territories.

The Congo is by far the worst. Europe was staggered at the Leopoldian

atrocities and they were terrible indeed, but what we, who were behind

the scenes, felt most keenly was the fact that the real catastrophe in

the Congo was desolation and murder in the larger sense. The invasion

of family life, the ruthless destruction of every social barrier, the

shattering of every tribal law, the introduction of criminal practices

which struck the chiefs of the people dumb with horror—in a word, a

veritable avalanche of filth and immorality overwhelmed the Congo tribes.

[Sidenote: THE ONLY HOPE]

To-day one sees the havoc which King Leopold created when he let

loose upon the Congo tribes the scum of Europe. None have escaped the

infection; girls of tender years and even boys not yet in their teens

delight in practices of which in the old days the chiefs would have

kept them in complete ignorance for another five years. Upon the women

the results have been by far the most revolting, for in the Congo the

majority of women have lost their womanhood and have fallen into a daily

condition from which even the beasts of the forest refrain.

The truth is that in the greater part of West Africa neither monogamy nor

polygamy is the prevailing relationship between man and woman. Doctors,

administrators and missionaries all know it, and are all powerless at

present to bring the situation under control. It is useless for the

administration to make laws for practices beneath the surface, the only

thing the officials can do, and should do without delay, is to see to

it that an ever higher example is set to the natives. This is where the

Belgian and French Congo officials have failed so utterly.

The Christian missionary alone touches the evil, and though he is

defeated again and again, he plods steadily on preaching a perfect

chastity—too lofty a standard for most natives at present—but without

doubt gathering round him an ever increasing number not only of men but

of women who, apart from occasional lapses, set a bright example to the

whole countryside.

[Sidenote: MOTHERHOOD]

The birth of children is in primitive Africa rarely attended by anything

abnormal. If a native nurse is confronted with complications, she

immediately throws up the case in despair and appeals to the witch

doctor, but normally the birth of children is taken as quite an ordinary

part of the daily life. One day we were passing through a native village,

and there, lying on a plantain leaf, were two chubby little twin girls

but half-an-hour old; the mother was sitting close by “resting.” This

picture was so beautifully simple that my wife went with a boy to bring

up the camera and plates, but on arriving at the spot in about twenty

minutes the woman had picked up her twins and carried them home! That is

primitive Africa, but in the coast towns where African womanhood delights

in corsets and other European follies, the suffering at childbirth is in

many cases almost as acute as that amongst the European community. With

several Congo tribes, the belief is firmly rooted and put into practice

that in order to change the colostrum flow to that of milk, co-habitation

is essential.

With many tribes throughout West Africa, the period of lactation is

prolonged; frequently the mother nurses the child until it is two, three,

and even four, years old. A case of adultery was brought before the

District Commissioner’s Court at Ikorodu in Southern Nigeria in April

last year, and in the evidence it came out that the accused woman was

suckling a child four years of age. The District Commissioner ordered her

to cease nursing the child within three months.

The death rate amongst the young children in West Africa is very high and

no doubt arises from the deplorable manner in which they are brought up.

There is practically no attention given to diet or cleanliness, with the

result that any disease which attacks a family quickly spreads through

the community.

Amongst the Dagomba of the Northern territories of the Gold Coast colony,

the woman who has given birth to a child leaves her husband’s compound

and goes to that of the father-in-law, taking the child with her, where

they stay for a year. At the end of this period the wife and child return

to the home of the husband and father.

TWINS

[Sidenote: TWINS]

It is a mistake to assume, as some writers do, that the taboo on twins

is a prevailing custom amongst West African tribes. The distribution

of the taboo is extremely erratic. Twins are unwelcome in the Northern

territories of the Gold Coast, yet the reverse is the case amongst the

Egbas of Nigeria. In the Congo territories, twins cause the greatest joy

to a tribe and the mother is lauded wherever she goes, whilst amongst the

tribes of the oil rivers of Nigeria, the birth of twins is regarded as

the most fearful calamity which can fall upon the community.

In the Upper Congo regions, the traveller may frequently see two

earthenware pots hoisted on forked stakes which have been driven in the

ground, one on either side of the path, and these are in honour of twins

born in the nearest compound. Every person passing by those pots will

religiously pluck two leaves and throw one at the foot of each forked

pole as a votive offering to “Bokecu” and “Mboyo,” as all good twins are

named.

The tragedy of the oil rivers is one of the most distressing in West

Africa. Throughout the Eastern, and to a considerable extent of the

Central Province, the cruel custom prevails of putting to death one,

sometimes both twins. The British Government spares no pains in the

effort to combat and overcome these practices, but though much good has

resulted, the custom still holds its own.

Not only are the children killed, but the mother is immediately

driven from home for she is no longer regarded as a chaste woman and

rapidly becomes an outcast from Society, living upon the proceeds of

prostitution. In some districts, however, this custom is less rigorous,

and the mothers of twins are allowed to form isolated villages and to

engage in trade. Some tribes, again, whilst driving them from the homes

of their husbands, permit them to engage in agricultural pursuits upon

the husband’s lands.

The missionaries are doing much towards weaning the tribes from this

murderous practice. One missionary society working amongst the Ibunos,

a tribe of five thousand people, claims that through the conversion to

Christianity of a large section of this tribe, the horrible practice of

murdering the twins and making the women outcasts has ceased. It is of

course difficult to control absolutely a statement of that kind, but it

is only the Christian missionary who can hope to deal effectively and

permanently with a subterranean evil like twin murder.

[Illustration: “TWIN POTS” HOISTED ON FORKED STICKS EITHER SIDE OF

PATHWAY, IN HONOUR OF NEWLY BORN TWINS, BANGALLA, CONGO.]

An interesting custom which survives in the Upper Congo is that a man

may never see or speak to his mother-in-law, and should he by accident

turn a corner in the village compound and meet her face to face, he must

at once send a propitiatory offering. If she should come into the house

where he is sitting, he will promptly raise a mat and hold it between

them, so that they may not see each other.

On the whole the lot of the African woman is a hard one. She has her

occasional pleasures it is true, but from childhood hers is a lifelong

drudgery with, however, the one sure recompense, that in old age it is

the joy and the privilege of the younger generation to support her.