A ROYAL WELCOME.--DEPARTURE FROM GOUMBI.--THE STORY OF NCHANGA AND
ENOMO.--ASCENDING THE OVENGA RIVER.--A HOSTILE BARRIER REMOVED.--THE
ADVICE OF QUENGUEZA.
AFTER a few days we reached the kingdom of Quengueza, and I received
a royal welcome from the sturdy old chief, for he loved me more than
any body else. That evening we remained together all alone, and talked
about my long journey. He said to me, "Chally, every body is afraid;
none of my free men want to follow you. They think they will never come
back; but one of my slaves says he will go with you, and you can depend
upon him.
"To make sure of your success," said the old king, "I want you to go
where you like. I am an old man, but I am strong, and, though more than
forty dry and forty rainy seasons have passed since I have been to the
Ashira country, I will go there with you. I will put you myself in the
hands of my friend Olenda, the Ashira king, and tell him to send you
on."
Thirteen days after my arrival at Goumbi the beating of the kendo (the
royal standard alarum) awoke me just before sunrise, and I heard the
voice of the old chief invoking, in a loud tone, the spirits of his
famous royal ancestors to protect us on our journey. The spirits he
invoked were those of men who had been famous in war or as rulers,
and their names had been handed down from generation to generation.
Igoumbai, Wombi, Rebouka, Ngouva, Ricati, Olenga-Yombi--the skulls of
all these great men were kept in the alumbi house of the king.
Quengueza was prouder than any chief I knew of the powers of his
deceased ancestors, and well might he be, for several had been great
warriors, and some had been wise rulers.
At 10 o'clock on the 28th of October we left Goumbi, followed by a
large array of canoes. We had had some trouble before the start, for
Quengueza's slaves were alarmed, and many had hid in the woods. They
were afraid that their master would give them to me, and they did not
desire to go off into the far country.
"Good-by" shouted the villagers on the shore; "good-by, Chally; come
back to us. Take care of our king; we do not like him to go so far away
with you, for he is old; but he loves you, and will accompany you part
of the way." And just as we disappeared from sight a wild shout rang
through the air. It was the last farewell to me of the Goumbi people.
That evening we reached the junction of the Niembai and Ovenga Rivers,
and resolved to pass the night on the shore. The rivers were low,
for the dry season had been unprecedented in its length--indeed, the
longest that the people could remember. In that country the rainy
season comes from inland, and gradually makes its way to the sea-shore,
while the dry season begins at the sea-shore, and gradually makes its
way inland.
That evening our camp was a merry one, for the men who went out caught
a great many fish (mullets and condos). The number was prodigious, for
at that season of the year these fish ascend the river as the shad do
in spring in America. The smoke of many a camp-fire ascended among the
trees, and jokes, and laughter, and story-telling were carried far into
the night. A negro is never happier than when he has nothing to do and
plenty to eat.
My couch, made of leaves, was by the side of Quengueza's, and my brave
companions were all around us.
Some funny stories were told that night, and one of them I wrote down.
The long dry season was the subject of conversation. A man belonging to
Goumbi got up. Nchanga means the wet, Enomo the dry season. These two
seasons are personified with the African. So the story went:
Nchanga and Enomo had a great dispute as to which was the oldest,
that is to say, which was the first to begin, and finally an assembly
of the people of the air met to decide the question. Nchanga said,
"When I come to a place, rain comes." Enomo retorted, "When I make my
appearance, the rain goes." "Verily, verily," said the people of the
air, who had listened to Enomo and Nchanga, "you must be of the same
age."
These long dry seasons have a special name, and are called _enomo
onguéro_; they last about five months. The showers coming at the close
are very light, and produce no impression on the rivers.
Next morning we ascended the Ovenga, which was very low, being about
twenty feet below the high-water mark. The narrow stream was encumbered
with fallen trees and sand-banks, and the journey was difficult and
slow.
We were getting among the Bakalai villages which lined the river banks
from place to place, when suddenly we came to a spot where the river
had been fenced or obstructed right across on account of some petty
trade quarrel which the people of the village opposite had had with
some other village higher up.
As soon as King Quengueza saw this his countenance changed, and wore
the fiercest expression, and for the first time I could see that the
terrible accounts I had heard of his warlike disposition when younger
were true. The face of the man fairly changed its color. He, the King
of the Rembo, traveling with his ntangani (white man), saw that his
river had been barred.
He got up and shouted, "Where are the axes and the cutlasses? where are
the spears and the guns?" and he took up a gun himself, and fired into
the air.
The fence was demolished in a few seconds, and onward we went. Our
canoe took the lead, and just as we turned a bend in the river I saw
five elephants crossing it, and before I had time to get a shot at
them the huge creatures reached the bank and plunged into the forest,
demolishing all the young trees which stood in the way of their flight.
Finally we reached the junction of the Ovenga River and of the Ofoubou,
and set up our camp there. Quengueza immediately dispatched messengers
to the Ashira king, asking him to send us men. Our camp was close by
the village of friend Obindji, with whom you are already acquainted,
who came to see us every day.
You remember the description I gave you of Obindji, and the fierce
witchcraft-palaver that took place at his cabin, Pende, his brother,
having been accused of stealing dead men's bones, etc.
I had brought with me a nice present for Obindji, besides what I had
sent him by Quengueza on my arrival. The good old Bakalai chief was
delighted.
We remained for several days at our encampment here, till at last the
Ashira people, sent by their King Olenda, arrived.
The water was now so low that from the northern bank of the Ovenga, on
which our camp was placed, there stretched a long point of beautiful
sand, upon which turtles would come during the night and lay their eggs.
We soon found that the large number of men Olenda had sent were not
sufficient for repacking our baggage, and I remained behind with
Quengueza.
Three nephews of Quengueza--Adouma, Ouendogo, and Quabi--went with the
Ashira men, taking with them all that the men could carry. When I saw
that I had really too much luggage, I gave to Quengueza nearly all the
salt I had, a great many brass rings, an additional supply of powder,
etc.
After a few days the Ashiras returned, and we concluded to take our
departure the next morning.
Quengueza, besides being an illustrious warrior, was a man who had
a great deal of common sense, and, after every thing was packed and
ready, he ordered my men to come to him. The old chief's countenance
wore a grave aspect, and, after looking in the fire for some time,
smoking all the while as hard as he could, he said, "You are going into
the bush; you will see there no one of your tribe; look up to Chally as
your chief, and obey him. Now listen to what I say. You will visit many
strange tribes. If you see on the road, or in the street of a village,
a fine bunch of plantains, with ground-nuts lying by its side, do not
touch them; leave the village at once; this is a tricky village, for
the people are on the watch to see what you are going to do with them.
"If the people of a village tell you to go and catch fowls or goats,
or cut plantains for yourselves, say to them, 'Strangers do not help
themselves; it is the duty of a host to catch the goat or fowl, and cut
the plantains, and bring the present to the house which has been given
to the strangers.' When a house is given to you in any village, keep
to that house, and go into no other; and if you see a seat, do not sit
upon it, for you know there are seats upon which nobody but the owners
are permitted to sit.
"But, above all, beware of women; do not get in love with any of them,
for you will be strangers in a strange land. I tell you these things
that you may journey in safety; I want you to have a smooth journey,
and get into no trouble. I need not tell you to take care of Chally."
The speech of the old sage was listened to with great attention, and
Igala said, "_Rera_ (father, king), we will follow your advice, for we
know that when salt or food is left on the road-side it is to catch
people; we know that you must not go into other people's houses, for in
some no one but the owner can go; and as for sitting on somebody else's
seat, we know better. We don't want to be made slaves. Rera (father),
we will remember what you have said to us."
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