THE RIVER CONGO--BANANA--PORTO DA LENHA--BOMA--MUSSURONGO
TRIBE--PIRATES--MUSHICONGO TRIBE--FISH--PALM CHOP--PALM WINE.
At the mouth of the River Congo and on its north bank a long spit of
sand separates the sea from a small creek or branch of the river. On
this narrow strip, called Banana, are established several factories,
belonging to Dutch, French, and English houses, and serving principally
as depôts for their other factories higher up the river and on the
coast. The Dutch house especially is a large establishment, and it was
in one of their small steamers that my wife and myself ascended the
river in February 1873.
The first place we touched at was Porto da Lenha, about forty or
forty-five miles from Banana. The river banks up to this point are
sheer walls of large mangrove trees rising out of the water; at high
water, particularly, hardly a dry place can be seen where one could
land from a boat or canoe. The natives have, of course, openings known
to themselves, under and through the mangrove, where their little
canoes dart in and out.
Porto da Lenha (Plate II.) consists of half-a-dozen trading factories,
built on ground enclosed from the river by piles, forming quays in
front, where large vessels can discharge and load close alongside.
The wharves are continually sinking, and have to be replaced by
constant addition of new piles and layers of thick fresh-water
bivalve shells, very abundant in the river. We here found growing in
the mud, and with the roots covered by the river at high water, the
lovely orchid “_Lissochilus giganteus_” in full bloom; we collected
some of its roots, which reached England safely, and are now growing
in Kew Gardens. Several fine creepers were also in flower, and we
observed numerous butterflies, which were not easy to capture from the
difficulty of getting at them, as at the back of the houses the dense
bush grows out of swamp, and only those specimens crossing the small
dry space on which the houses are built could be collected. Little
creeks divide one house from another; in some cases a plank bridge
affords communication, but it is mostly effected by boats. A few days
before our arrival a flood had covered the whole of the ground with
several inches of water. Considering the conditions of the place, it
does not seem to be so unhealthy to Europeans as might be expected.
Next day we proceeded to Boma, also situated on the north bank of the
river, about ninety-five miles from Banana.
The scenery completely changes after leaving Porto da Lenha, the
mangrove totally disappears, and several kinds of bright green bushes,
interspersed with different palms and trees, cover the banks for many
miles. Near Boma, however, the banks are higher, and become bare of
trees and shrubs, the whole country being comparatively free of any
other vegetation but high grass; we have arrived, in fact, at the
grass-covered high country before mentioned as beginning at the third
elevation from the coast over the whole of Angola.
We were most hospitably received by a young Portuguese, Senhor Chaves,
in charge of an English factory there, picturesquely situated,
overlooking the banks of the river. A high hill opposite Boma and
across the river is covered from the top right down to the water’s
edge with an impenetrable forest, and it is not easy to explain this
vegetation, as it stands in such singular relief to the comparative
barrenness of the surrounding country, gigantic Baobabs being the great
tree-feature of the place. We crossed the river several times to this
thickly-wooded hill, and were only able to find just sufficient shore
to land under the branches of the trees, one of which (_Lonchocarpus
sericeus_) was in beautiful bloom. The current of the river is so
strong, and the stream so broad, that it took us half-an-hour to get
across in a good boat with ten strong Kroomen paddling.
The view from a high hill on the north bank is magnificent: a
succession of bends of the river, and as far as the sight could reach,
the flat country to the south and west cut into innumerable islands
and creeks, of the brightest green of the water-grass and papyrus
reed, divided by the sunlit and quicksilver-like streams of the vast
rapidly-flowing river.
Boma, as before observed, was formerly the great slave-trade mart,
thousands arriving from all quarters of the interior; they generally
carried a load of provisions, chiefly small beans, a species of the
haricot, for sale to the traders, and on which the slaves were chiefly
fed, in the barracoons and on board the vessels in which they were
shipped, and the Congo used in this way to supply the coast, even to
Loanda, with abundance of beans, mandioca-meal, &c.; but since the
cessation of the slave-trade there has been such great scarcity of
native grown food produce, not only in the river but everywhere on the
coast--the cultivation of other products, such as ground-nuts, being of
greater advantage to the natives--that Europeans are sometimes reduced
to great straits for food for the natives in their service, and even
for the fowls. This is one of the curious changes produced in the
country by the abolition of the slave-trade. A very large trade quickly
sprang up at Boma in ground-nuts, palm-oil, palm-kernels, &c.; but a
foolish competition amongst the white traders has induced them to go
higher up the river to trade; the consequence has been that Boma, so
capitally situated in every way for a trading station, is now nearly
reduced to a depôt for produce brought from farther up the river.
We were a fortnight at Boma, but were greatly disappointed at the small
number of species of insects we collected, and the poverty in plants
as well. All the lovely coloured finches and other birds of the grassy
regions were here most conspicuous in number and brilliancy, and it
was really beautiful to see the tall grass alive with the brightest
scarlet, yellow, orange, and velvet black of the many different
species, at that season in their full plumage.
We were very much amused at a pretty habit of the males of the tiny
little sky-blue birds (_Estrelda cyanogastra_) that, with other small
birds such as the Spermestes, Estreldas, Pytelias, &c., used to come
down in flocks to feed in the open space round the house. The little
mites would take a grass flower in their beaks, and perform quite a
hoppy dance on any little stick or bush, bobbing their feathery heads
up and down, whilst their tiny throats swelled with the sweetest little
song-notes and trills imaginable. This was their song to the females,
who were feeding about on the ground below them. The long-tailed
little whydah birds (_Vidua principalis_) have a somewhat similar habit
of showing off whilst the hens are feeding on the ground; they keep
hovering in the air about three or four feet above them, twit-twitting
all the time, their long tails rising and falling most gracefully to
the up-and-down motion of their little bodies.
One Sunday during our stay Senhor Chaves organized a pic-nic of the
principal white traders to a native village in the interior, where he
had arranged that the nine kings who govern Boma and receive “customs”
from the traders, should meet us, in order that he might make them
each a “dash,” which he wished my wife to present, in commemoration
of a white woman’s visit. We started in hammocks, and after about two
hours’ journey, arrived at the place of meeting, where a good breakfast
awaited us. Our road was over hilly ground, rough and rocky (mica
schist), and was remarkably bare of vegetation; we passed one or two
large and well-cultivated ravines.
After breakfast the nine kings appeared on the scene, and a miserable
lot they were, with one exception, a fine tall old grizzly negro;
their retinues were of the same description, and wretchedly clad. There
was a big palaver, the customary amount of rum was consumed by them,
and they each received, from my wife, their “dress” of several yards of
cloth, piece of cotton handkerchiefs, red baize sash, and red cotton
nightcap. One old fellow had a very curious old crucifix, which he did
not know the age of; he could only tell that he was the fifth Soba
or king that had inherited it. It had evidently belonged to the old
Catholic Portuguese missionaries of former times.
Crucifixes are often seen as “fetishes” of the kings in Angola. Nothing
will induce them to part with them, as they belong to part of the
“fetishes” that have been handed down from king to king from time
immemorial, and must not be lost or disposed of.
An amusing incident occurred on our way at a large village, where a
great crowd, chiefly of women and children, had collected to cheer the
white woman, seen for the first time in their lives. My hammock was a
little way behind, and on arriving at the village I was met with great
shouts and much shaking of hands; as the other white men had not been
similarly received, I inquired the reason why, and was then informed
that it was to denote their satisfaction at seeing the “proprietor or
owner of the white woman,” as they expressed it.
The natives here, in fact above Porto da Lenha, are Mushicongos, and
are not a bad set of blacks; but, like all this large tribe, are weak
and puny in appearance, dirty in their habits, and scanty of clothing.
They have not as yet allowed white men to pass from Boma, or any
other point of the river, to St. Salvador, and several Portuguese who
have wished to go from St. Salvador to Boma have been dissuaded from
attempting the journey by the king and natives, not from any objection
on their part, but from the certainty that the blacks near the river
would make them turn back.
There is a very great objection on the part of all the tribes of
the interior of Angola, and particularly of those not in the actual
territory held by the Portuguese, to the passage of a white man through
the country. This is due in the first place to the natural distrust
and suspicion of the negro character, and secondly to their fear of
the example of the occupation of Ambriz and the Bembe mines by the
Portuguese. It is impossible for blacks to understand that a white man
will travel for curiosity’s sake; it is perfectly incomprehensible to
them that he should spend money in carriers, making presents, &c.,
only for the pleasure of seeing the country; they are never satisfied
without what they consider a good reason; consequently they always
imagine it must be for the purpose of establishing a factory for
trade, or else to observe the country for its occupation thereafter.
This is the reason why natives will never give reliable information
regarding even the simplest question of direction of roads, rivers,
distances, &c. It is very difficult to obtain exact information, and it
is only after being very well acquainted with them that their natural
suspicions are lulled, and they will freely afford the knowledge
desired.
Their explanations of our object in collecting insects, birds, and
other objects of natural history were very curious. Our statements that
we did so to show in the white man’s country what plants, insects,
birds, &c., were to be found in Africa, as ours were so different,
never satisfied them; they always thought that the specimens must be
worth a great deal of money amongst the white men, or, as others did
not devote themselves to collecting, it was to make “fetishes” of
them when we got home: some, who considered themselves wiser than the
others, said it was to copy designs for the Manchester prints, and that
they would see the flowers, butterflies, and birds, copied on the trade
cloth as soon as I got back to my country.
Their idea of my manufacturing the specimens into “fetishes” was a
perfectly natural one in my case, as my nickname at Ambriz and on the
coast is “Endoqui,” or fetish man, from my having introduced the new
trade of collecting and pressing the bark of the Adansonia tree, and
from my wonderful performances in working a small steam engine, and
putting up the hydraulic presses and a corrugated iron store, the first
they had seen, and which caused great surprise.
The natives of the Congo River, from its mouth to a little above Porto
da Lenha, belong to the Mussurongo tribe, and are an ill-favoured
set--they are all piratical robbers, never losing an opportunity of
attacking a loaded barge or even ship, unless well armed or keeping
in the centre of the river, where the great current prevents them
from collecting around it in their canoes. These pirates have been
continually attacked by the Portuguese and English men-of-war,
generally after some more than usually daring robbery, and have had
several severe thrashings, but without their taking the slightest
example by them, the next ship or boat that runs aground on the
numerous sandbanks being again immediately attacked. They have taken
several white men prisoners on such occasions, and have exacted a
ransom for their liberation. They have, however, always treated them
well whilst detained in their towns. The principal houses now do their
trade by steamers, which the Mussurongos dare not, of course, attack.
A few years ago, a notorious pirate chief called Manoel Vacca, who had
caused great loss to the traders by his piracy, was captured by them at
Porto da Lenha and delivered to the British Commodore, who, instead of
hanging him at the yard-arm as he deserved, and as an example to the
nest of thieves of which he was the chief, took him to St. Helena, and
after some time brought this savage back carefully to Porto da Lenha to
his disconsolate followers, who had been unable to find a fit leader
for their piratical robberies. Manoel Vacca, of course, quickly forgot
his promises of amendment made whilst on board the British man-of-war,
and again became the pest he had formerly been, and when we were up the
river had exacted, without the slightest pretence but that of revenge,
a large payment from the traders at Porto da Lenha, threatening to stop
all trade, rob all boats, and kill the “cabindas” or crews, on the
river, if not immediately paid, and--on our way from Boma--we narrowly
escaped being involved in a fight there, in consequence of this
scandalous demand, which I afterwards heard had been complied with.
The traders vowed that if ever they caught him again, they would not
deliver him to have his education continued at St. Helena, but would
finish it on the spot.
The Mussurongos are very fond of wearing ankle-rings, which, when of
brass, are Birmingham made, and obtained from the traders, but in many
cases are made by the natives of iron forged by their smiths, and
cast-tin or pewter, which they obtain in trade in the form of little
bars. Those made by the natives are invariably ornamented with one
peculiar design (Plate IV.). These rings are seldom above a few ounces
in weight, and are worn by men and women alike, very different from the
natives of Cabinda, on the north of the River Congo, whose women wear
them as large and heavy as they can be made. I have in my possession
two copper ankle-rings which I purchased for six shawl-handkerchiefs of
a little old Cabinda woman at Ambriz, weighing seven pounds each. It
cost a smith some considerable time and trouble to take them off, as
from their thickness it was very difficult to wedge them open without
injury to the woman’s legs. It seems almost incredible that Fashion
should, even among these uncivilized tribes, compel the dark sex to
follow her arbitrary exactions, to the extent of carrying the enormous
weight of fourteen pounds of solid metal on their naked feet. Till the
ankles become hardened and used to the rings, the wearers are obliged
to tie rags round them, to protect the skin from injury by the heavy
weight.
The River Congo teems with animal life: above Porto da Lenha
hippopotami are very abundant; alligators, of course, swarm, and are
very dangerous.
Of the few small fish that I caught with a line at Boma, no less than
four were new species, and have been named by Dr. A. Günther, of the
British Museum, as the Bryconœthiops microstoma, Alestes holargyreus,
Distichodus affinis, and Mormyrus Monteiri (see ‘Annals and Magazine of
Natural History’ for August, 1873).
At Boma the Koodoo (_Tragelaphus Spekei_, Sclater) antelope must be
very abundant, judging from the number of times that we there ate of
its delicious flesh, brought in for sale by the natives. In my former
visits to Banana I made several shooting excursions to neighbouring
villages of friendly natives, in company with a Portuguese called
Chico, employed at the Dutch factory, who was a keen sportsman: we
generally started in the evening, and slept at a village a few miles
off, rising at daybreak to shoot wild fowl in the lovely creeks and
marshes, before the sun forced us to return to breakfast and the
welcome shade of the palm-trees, under which were the pretty huts of
the village.
Our breakfast invariably consisted of “palm chop,” a delicious dish
when properly prepared, and from the fresh nut. This dish has been
so abused by travellers, who have perhaps hardly tasted it more than
once, and who might have been prejudiced by the colour of the oil,
or the idea that they were eating waggon-grease or palm-soap, that I
must give an accurate description of its preparation and defend its
excellence against its detractors. The nuts of the oil-palm (_Elæis
Guineensis_) are about the size of large chestnuts, the inner part
being excessively hard and stony, and containing an almond (technically
“palm-kernel”). It is enclosed or surrounded by a thin outer mass of
fibre and pulp containing the oil, and covered with a rich red-brown
skin or husk somewhat thinner than that on a chestnut. The pulpy oil
and fibrous portion being separated from the nuts, is melted in a pot
over the fire to further separate all the fibres, and the rich, thick
oily mass is then ready to be added to a dismembered duck or fowl, or
any other kind of meat, and the whole stewed gently together with the
proper amount of water, with the addition of ground green Chili peppers
and salt to taste, until it is quite done, and in appearance like a
rich curry, with which it can best be compared; a squeeze of lime or
lemon is a great improvement. The flavour of this dish is not at all
like what might be expected from the strong smell of the often rancid
palm oil received in this country. It is always eaten with some boiled
preparation of maize flour, or better still of meal from the mandioca
root. A good cook will make a very good “palm chop” with fresh oil, in
the absence of the new nuts.
Another excellent dish is the ordinary haricot bean stewed with palm
oil and Chili peppers till quite tender and thick.
It is from the oil-palm that the finest palm wine is obtained, and it
is curious how few travellers have accurately described this or its
properties. The blacks ascend the trees by the aid of a ring formed
of a stout piece of the stem of a creeper which is excessively strong
and supple: one end is tied into a loop, and the other thrown round
the tree is passed through the loop and bent back (Plate IV.): the end
being secured forms a ready and perfectly safe ring, which the operator
passes over his waist. The stumps of the fallen leaves form projections
which very much assist him in getting up the tree. This is done by
taking hold of the ring with each hand, and by a succession of jerks,
the climber is soon up at the top, with his empty gourds hung round
his neck. With a pointed instrument he taps the tree at the crown, and
attaches the mouth of a gourd to the aperture, or he takes advantage of
the grooved stem of a leaf cut off short to use as a channel for the
sap to flow into the gourd suspended below. This operation is performed
in the evening, and in the early morning the gourds are brought down
with the sap or juice that has collected in them during the night. The
palm wine is now a slightly milky fluid, in appearance as nearly as
possible like the milk in the ordinary cocoa-nut, having very much the
same flavour, only sweeter and more luscious.
When cool in the morning, as brought down fresh from the tree, it is
perfectly delicious, without the slightest trace of fermentation,
and of course not in the least intoxicating; in a few hours, or
very shortly if collected or kept in old gourds in which wine has
previously fermented, it begins to ferment rapidly, becoming acid and
intoxicating; not so much from the quantity of alcohol produced, I
believe, as from its being contained in a strongly effervescent
medium, and being drunk by the natives in the hot time of the day, and
when they are heated by travelling, &c. Even in the morning the wine
has sometimes a slightly acid flavour, if it has been collected in an
old calabash. We used to have new gourds employed for ourselves. The
natives, again, can never be trusted to bring it for sale perfectly
fresh or pure, always mixing it with water or old wine, and of course
spoiling it, and I have known the rascals take water in the calabashes
up the tree to mix with the pure juice, when they thought they should
not have an opportunity of adulterating it before selling it.
[Illustration: PLATE III.
VIEW ON THE CONGO, ABOVE BOMA. _To face page 99._]
The smell of the palm wine, as it dries on the tree tops where they
have been punctured, is very attractive to butterflies, bees, wasps,
and other insects, and these in their turn attract the many species
of insectivorous birds. This is more particularly the case with the
beautiful little sunbirds (_Nectariniæ_), always seen in numbers busily
employed in capturing their insect prey, actively flitting, from top to
top, and darting in and out of the leaf-stems with a little song very
much like that of the cock-robin.