SETTLEMENT AT KIMPESE
A second time Mr. and Mrs. Lewis sailed from Antwerp amid a storm of
music and enthusiasm. The storm was not raised for them, yet none the
less they enjoyed the thrill of it. The voyage was propitious, and in the
quiet resting days their thoughts turned fondly backward to the friends
they had left behind, as well as eagerly forward to the new work they
were about to undertake. In her first letters Mrs. Lewis gives expression
to that feeling of deepened affection for the Church, to which I have
referred, little thinking that those who had become more than ever dear
to her would see her face no more.
“SS. _Bruxellesville_, approaching Teneriffe, June 17, 1908. (To Miss
Taylor.)—I shall very very often be thinking of you all, especially on
Sundays. I shall try to keep in with your prayer circle; for somehow this
time we are more than ever bound up in love and friendship with Camden.
Give our love, too, to the dear friends at Harrow.
“We have had a splendid voyage so far, smooth and fine. There are three
other missionaries on board—a young couple and a single lady, nice quiet
people, ‘Brethren,’ going to Westcotts’ Mission on one of the tributaries
of the Kasai—and we have a table together. Thousands of people gathered
to see us off at Antwerp, as our captain is a Belgian—the first to attain
that dignity. He seems a decent man.
“Matadi, July 8th.—We arrived at Banana ten days ago and found a letter
waiting from Dr. Gamble, saying he was down with his first fever at
Matadi. However, a week yesterday we came to Boma, and soon after
eleven the next morning saw a little boat approaching in which was the
Doctor. We were indeed glad for Miss Spencer’s sake. That day we could
do nothing but make arrangements, as it was a general holiday, flags
flying, a regatta in the afternoon, and a torchlight procession in the
evening, which was very pretty. On Thursday afternoon, July 2nd, we
went ashore—just Dr. Gamble and the bride, with Tom and me. The British
Consul accompanied us in a tram (steam) to the Governor’s house, and the
marriage took place in the Court of Justice, according to Belgian law,
with the British Consul as witness. Then we walked down to the American
Mission, where Tom conducted the religious service. Our other missionary
friends were there from the ship, and the American missionary, his wife,
and another lady. They had prepared a pretty tea, with flowers and a
sugared cake. It was very kind. When we returned to the ship the captain,
who was waiting to congratulate the bride and bridegroom, invited us
to his cabin, and we must needs have tea and cake again. The next day
we came here, where Mr. Phillips and Mr. Norman gave us a most hearty
welcome, and we had letters awaiting us from San Salvador, Kibokolo, and
the Howells, bidding us welcome back to Congo. We have had a pleasant few
days together. The Kasai friends left on Monday, and we saw the young
couple off in the train at six this morning. By the same train went six
nuns bound for San Salvador. I am sorry.
“The news from most of the stations is good, but Mrs. Graham is very
unwell, and we have written urging her to take the doctor’s advice and go
home as soon as the Bowskills arrive. Mr. Graham is not well either, so I
do hope they will go.”
“Matadi, July 8th. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—On Sunday the Commissaire
(that is the magistrate in charge) and his wife from Boma, paid us a
visit. They gave Kimpese a very good character. It is very pretty, with
good water and plenty of fish, good food, &c. In that case we shall be
better off than we expected. I shall be able to write more about this
next mail. There is no lady on this station, so I have been making cakes
and pies since I arrived, of which the gentlemen have been very glad.”
“Kimpese, July 27th. (To Miss Beatrice Percival.)—This is such a
queer place, just a kind of clearing in the bush, and we live in a
one-roomed grass-house. On the opposite hill the Roman Catholics have
an establishment, and we can see and hear the little train as it winds
in and out and goes puffing up the hill. There is a fine range of hills
on one side of us, and we shall look out upon them from our new home.
Uncle is very busy getting the ground and foundations ready, and I am
endeavouring to teach three bush boys housework and cooking, as well as I
can under the circumstances. I have also started to make a little garden
with their help this morning, so that we can get some mustard and cress,
lettuces, &c., before we get into our regular house, and Uncle makes the
proper garden.”
“August 19th.—We are both well I am thankful to say, but one never seems
clean. It is the dry season, and the dust and ‘jiggers’ are dreadful. I
am afraid this is a very bad place for insects. There are no end of flies
now and a good many mosquitoes. What they will be in the rainy season I
don’t know! There is so much bush about. A good deal has already been
cleared, but there is much yet to be done. It is so unfortunate that Tom
has no one to help him responsibly. Of course we have a lot of men, but
they need constant looking after. My boys are just beginning to be of
use, and on Sunday two little girls arrived. They come from Makuta.”
“September 10th. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—Our garden is getting on.
Yesterday Uncle and I put in peas and beans. The melons and cucumbers
are coming up, and the flowers, some of them, will soon be in blossom.
Uncle’s carpenter has turned up ill, and has had to go away for several
days, also one bricklayer. It is very trying, as it keeps everything
back. Mr. Moon arrived on Monday, and to-day, Thursday, he has gone off
to his old station to see about his things. His wife and two children are
left in America. He has his meals with us, and seems a nice quiet man,
and very earnest. The weather is getting very much hotter. Several days
lately it has been 86° or 87° in the shade.”
[Illustration: GRASS HOUSE AT KIMPESE IN WHICH MR. AND MRS. LEWIS LIVED
DURING CONSTRUCTION OF PERMANENT BUILDINGS (1908).]
“October 7th. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—It was too bad to put you all
off last mail with a p.c., wasn’t it? But really I could not help it. I
was so rushed, and in consequence, of course, headachy. On the Sunday
Uncle was very poorly, and I had to take service. He got better, and
managed to finish a classroom he was putting up with iron walls and grass
roof. It is divided by a partition, and we moved into it on Wednesday.
We had just got in, thinking to get everything in readiness for the
visit of the Trustees on Friday, when Mr. Moon came back from Matadi, as
we expected, and with him Mr. Lowrie, from Mabaya, on his way home. We
were very pleased to see him, but of course there had to be a fly round
to get him bed, ‘chop,’ &c. Then just in the middle of the stir Daniel
arrived from Zombo, bringing _Sandy_! He had to be petted and comforted
after his long journey. Mr. L. went off early the next day, and just as
I was making some cakes in readiness for the day following, in walked
Mr. Frame! Another fly round! Then on Friday there was, of course, a big
dinner to prepare for night. They all arrived by midday train, _i.e._,
about half-past two, Mr. and Mrs. Bain, Mr. Phillips, and Dr. Sims....
As my cook is so new, I had to look after everything myself, so that I
could not enjoy their company as I should have liked to do. Mrs. Bain is
a Swede, and very pleasant. Dr. Sims is most kind. I don’t know what we
should do without him.... I can also consult him about the medical work
which I have begun here. I was forced to it. We have so many workmen with
us, and lots of other people come as well. I have only begun regularly
to-day. My garden is doing so well, and looks so pretty; I wish you
could see it.... You would love the pretty little chicks we have now,
such a lot of them. Four broods are out, and two other hens and the
duck sitting. Yesterday men arrived from Kibokolo with sixty fowls; so
you see we have plenty of fresh ‘chop’, and do not need to fall back on
tins, as we did at first. All food is much dearer than at Kibokolo or San
Salvador. Uncle is awfully busy, and Mr. Moon, with the two houses. The
roof of the office is just being put up. By the way, a day or two after
I wrote to Mother, one of our men brought us a fine big fish from the
river, which we enjoyed very much; but we have not seen any since.”
“November 18th. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—It is just pouring with rain
now, and after the frightful heat of the day the rain is quite a relief.
Our house is going up fast. The office outbuilding is nearly finished,
and to-day our two roll-top desks were unpacked so as to keep them from
the white ants. The rest of the house has only a skeleton yet. It will be
delightful when finished. I only wish our friends could see us in it....
The garden is not flourishing quite as well as it did; there is too much
rain for it, and the insects are awful.”
“November 30th. (To Miss Beatrice Percival.)—Uncle is looking for a
snake, a Boa, who came and paid us a visit last evening just as we were
going to tea. Two hens were sitting on one nest. One was killed, the
other they saved and transported to a place of safety, with her eggs,
but in the night the silly thing went back to the place of peril and
was killed by the snake. It was dark yesterday, and while the boys were
getting a light the snake made off, and they cannot find it. But we know
it is about, and are afraid it will kill more fowls, or the ducks. Did I
tell you the duck had a family of fourteen? but there are only ten now.
It is wonderful they have survived; but she is a splendid mother, and
we should be sorry if anything happened to her, poor thing. The snakes
are plentiful about here. Uncle has just returned, but can’t find the
enemy. December 1st.—I am just waiting breakfast, 7.25 a.m. This is our
twenty-second wedding day; just fancy! We have indeed much to be thankful
for. Here we are quite well and very busy—both desirable things. I
believe the ducks and fowls are all right this morning, so I suppose the
Boa has gone elsewhere. The monkeys came the other night and eat up the
maize which the girls had planted. They say there are crowds of them, but
I have not seen them yet. I have told the boys and girls to let me know
next time they appear.”
“December 2nd. (To Miss Taylor.)—”We are still in the classroom, into
which we moved from our grass-house. Our permanent house is getting on,
but the workmen are very slow and very stupid, and Tom cannot do as
much here as in Kibokolo, the atmosphere is so different. I am thankful
to say that for many weeks now we have all been quite well. It will be
nice when we get into our new home and really begin the work of the
Institute. But there is much to be done first, of all sorts.
“We thought of you all very much last week at the Sale time. I trust it
was a great success. I am glad Mr. Parkinson was there.... I wonder where
you are going to spend your Christmas. We expect to go down to Matadi on
the Saturday before Christmas Day, remaining until the Wednesday. Mr.
Phillips is marrying a very nice Swedish lady, a widow, and wishes Tom
to tie the knot. We shall be alone probably on Christmas Day, as our
American colleague, Mr. Moon, is going for a few days to his friends at
Mbanza Manteka, as soon as we return.”
“December 2nd.—Thank you so much for the papers. There seem to be
stirring times just now—what with the unemployed and the suffragists.
The Government strikes me as a bit disappointing. ‘Put not your trust in
princes’—nor in statesmen! That was a charming letter to Dr. Clifford
from the Archbishop; I am very glad he wrote it. I hear they are starting
Study Classes at Camden; I am very glad of that too.”
“December 16th.—It is pouring with rain and is very dark, as I have had
to close the windows, or rather the shutters, and I have only half of
the door open to let in some light. Tom is over at the new house getting
work done inside, as they cannot go on with the roof. But part of it is
up and the office, so he can be there to keep the men at work, which they
think very hard. These people always go to sleep directly there is rain,
and don’t think they ought to work. Seeing that it rains mostly half of
every day now they would have a pretty easy time of it. Since I wrote
last, we have both been ill again. We were in bed together for two or
three days with fever; Tom with his usual gastritis, and I with a very
bad head. It hindered things for a week. The boys and girls were very
good. My cook did everything very nicely, and made us soup and arrowroot,
and the biggest girl waited on us, so we got through. I was well enough
just to say what we wanted and tell them how to do it. Mr. Moon kept
things going on the station, and looked in and out.... We are expecting
to go down to-morrow to Matadi to Mr. Phillips’s wedding. I hope we shall
get there all right. The river is in flood they say, piers covered and
trains running in water. It is an exceptionally wet season.”
“December 16th. (To Miss Beatrice Percival.)—You would have enjoyed
the sight I had recently. At the back of our house at the bottom of a
steep slope runs a stream, thickly wooded, and the other day the girls
called me to see the monkeys. I had planted a little sweet maize as
an experiment, and the girls saw a monkey come right up to within a
few yards. When I went I had a fine view of big and little monkeys,
regular ‘Banderlays,’ running up and down, in and out, among the great
tree-branches. Uncle says they will have to be killed. But I can’t bear
the idea. They do seem like distant relatives, don’t you think? Dear old
Sandy is as sweet as ever. Mr. Moon is going to see to his feeding. He
likes Sandy, as indeed does every one. I wonder how the servant is going
on; I hope she won’t scoot after Christmas. It is such a comfort having
a decent girl who can really do things. That book you sent Uncle by an
American, Mr. Bradford, I like very much. But it does not go far enough.
He is hardly evangelical, I should say. I like that of Rendel Harris
immensely. I am reading now Mr. Grenfell’s Memoir, by Sir H. Johnston. It
is very interesting, but hardly gives a portrait of the man. I expect Mr.
Hawker’s will do that. This is more a series of pictures of the country,
and the people and missions in general, to which the author is most
sympathetic. You would like to read it, I think. Mr. Parkinson sent it to
us.”
“Matadi, December 24th.—Your letters were so sad this time that I hardly
know how to write to you, as I do not know in what circumstances this
letter may find you, but I must write to wish you from us both very
many happy returns of your birthday; and if this birthday is clouded by
anxiety and trouble [occasioned by Mr. Hartland’s grave illness], may
the new year upon which you are entering be bright with the sunshine of
the Master’s presence, and even darkest days and nights be lightened
by His countenance and His help. How I wish I could be with you! I am
afraid your Christmas is a sad and anxious time. We have had a very
queer Christmas, or rather shall have had when it is over. We came down
here on Thursday last, this day week. On Sunday morning we proceeded to
Boma by the French steamer. I was in bed with fever all the time there.
Mr. Phillips was married by the Consul on Monday, and on Tuesday we
came up in the gunboat. I was much better, and was able to attend the
wedding here in the afternoon, and to help in getting the boys’ feast
yesterday. To-day we have been talking and arranging all sorts of things
and packing. To-morrow (25th) we expect to go up to Kimpese. I am pretty
well, though not very strong yet.”
“January 4, 1909. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—I have just read your letters
over, but I am rather in a ‘wigwam’ as to who sent which books. We have
dipped into them all, I think, and Uncle is much taken with ‘Lloyd
George.’ But who sent me ‘The House of the Wolf’? Was it one of you? We
got part of our mail here and part at Matadi: then with the wedding and
my fever I have got regularly mixed. I was interested about your visit
to Mrs. Taylor and should have loved all the dear animals. But I don’t
believe you like them better than the babies! Of course some of those
are not so interesting. As for Sandy, I think you might write that book.
A good idea! I have no time or brains for it. My time seems taken up in
all sorts of mundane ways—cooking, cutting out and machining clothes for
my ten ‘children,’ looking after and growing (and eating) vegetables,
nursing, and so on. Then in a few weeks’ time I shall have three or four
hours’ teaching daily. I don’t know how all is to be squeezed in. Now
I must leave off and go to the garden with one of my girls. I want to
transplant some lettuces and sow some others. We have had lovely cabbages
every day for some time; to-day we had beans again and tomatoes galore.
Yes, I agree with you that I do not like the fowls having to be killed.
Still, I think it much better for them than getting ill, and the hens
and chicks are most interesting, to say nothing of the eggs, which are a
great blessing. The ducks, too, are doing splendidly; the nine ducklings
are growing fast. The old drake eats out of my hands, and the duck is
most friendly, I shan’t make friends with those which have to be killed.
“I wish you could see my convolvuli, they are so lovely, and the French
and African marigolds do splendidly. Uncle, too, has a lot of flowers
coming on. I only wish his health was better.”
“January 28th. (To Miss Taylor.)—I know you will be sorry to hear that
I have had two fevers since the one at Boma, and that Tom is only just
recovering from a nasty fever and gastric attack; so you can imagine
things do not go on very fast. The students (some of them) arrived last
week and are busy building their houses; fortunately Mr. Moon is well.
He is a very hard-working, earnest man. The wives and children are not
to come until March. I do hope we shall be having better health by that
time. We expect to be in our house in a few weeks now. We should have
been there long ago but for these illnesses. We had Mr. Thomas with us
for a week from Wathen. He came to sit for his exam, in the language,
and has come off splendidly. We like him very much. He seems the right
sort of man.... The day after we returned from Matadi we made a sort
of Christmas for the children, and when they were all here inspecting
their presents, with a lot of the workmen and other people looking on, I
brought out _Bella_.[7] You should have seen them. The girl who was with
Mrs. Pinnock rushed at her as an old friend, and the others were lost in
astonishment. They are all delighted to have her, though two of them are
rather old for dolls.”
“February 24th. (To Miss Ethel Percival.)—We are in our new house, or at
least part of it, two rooms and the office, and are enjoying the boarded
floors and the advantage of being able to get to the kitchen without
going out of doors. Of course there is one drawback. The house not being
finished the workmen are busy and the noise is awful. Fortunately I do
not suffer with my head as I used to do, but it rubs up my spine and is
not conducive to comfort. Still, things are getting on, so we are very
glad. The house will be lovely when finished. I have not attempted to
beautify yet. That is to come. The men are here getting their houses
ready. Next week the women and children come, and on the 8th we begin the
real work of the College. Then I shall be very busy, as besides what I
have to do at present I shall have about three hours’ teaching every day
except Saturday. I shall be able to tell you more about that later on.
“Concerning the monkeys! they have mostly gone to another part of our
grounds, and have not troubled us lately. The snakes come after the fowls
and eggs, and that is a real trouble. We are not afraid of them. It is a
strange fact (which Sir H. Johnston mentions in his book, I see) that one
rarely hears of accidents from snake-bites either to the natives or white
people. I don’t know how it is except that one does not go out much at
night when the snakes are most abroad.”