Among Congo cannibals

A Congo lad in England—People doing no work—Erroneous views—A condemnation of “niggers”—Its answer—White employers of black labour—Allowances to be made—Leather-work—String making—Bark cloth—Basket-work—Pottery—Dyeing and painting—Working in metal—Aptitude for learning handicrafts.

Many years ago I brought a native lad of quick intelligence from the wilds of Congo to my home in London. He noticed the people crowding the pavements, filling the tram-cars, omnibuses, and trains; and his frequent question was: “How do all these people live, for they seem only to ride and walk about and do no work?” Later he observed that all the articles in the various windows of the different tradespeople had prices marked on them, and that money was necessary with which to buy them. He had tried to procure things himself from the shops, and had learned by sad experience that not only was money needful for that purpose, but the right amount was requisite before he could become the happy possessor of the coveted article so luringly displayed in the window; and then his question was: “How do the people get the money with which to buy all those things?”

“They have to work for their money,” I replied. “Some have to work hard for very little money, others earn more by less laborious work, and others again are fortunate enough to have had fathers who worked hard and have left their sons and daughters so rich that they have no need to work.”

“Work hard!” he exclaimed incredulously. “Why, they only ride, or walk about the streets, or sit in shops eating and drinking. I do not see them at work.”

I fear that if that lad had returned to his country then, he would have carried with him a very poor idea of white folk, and would have regarded us as a lazy lot who only walked or rode about the streets, or sat eating and drinking in shops. It took many a long talk to explain our system, and when later I had the opportunity of taking him behind the scenes into factories, and over buildings in the course of erection, he modified his views and came to understand that the white man works. At the back of his mind was the idea, very prevalent among some of the Congo tribes, that all our articles of barter are manufactured by the blacks, whose dead bodies we have bought in Africa and sent to Mputu (countries of the white people), where by the wonderful magic of the white men the bodies are resurrected, and they are now doing our work for us so that we can walk and ride about with nothing whatever to do. It is the ignorance of one people about another that causes such misunderstandings, prejudices, and erroneous judgments. The lad would never have thought of charging the traders, the missionaries, or Government officials with laziness, for he saw and understood their work; but these white folk who crowded the streets, filled the vehicles and the shops, what work did they do? He could not see it, and his superficial and mistaken opinion was that they were an indolent lot of folk.

Sitting at tea with me one day at Monsembe was the captain of a State steamer. À propos of nothing in particular, he exclaimed: “What lazy fellows these niggers are!”

“To whom are you specially referring?” I inquired of him.

“Well,” he said, “before coming to your house to tea this afternoon I took a walk through the town and saw some men lounging about talking, and others asleep under the shade of some plantain and fig trees.”

“Oh, yes,” I replied; “I know them very well. Some of them have been for several weeks over on the islands, living in rough shanties, fishing all day and smoke-drying their fish over their fires during the evenings. They returned this morning after their long spell on the islands, and they are resting for a few days before starting on another fishing expedition. Another lot of men came in yesterday with that heavy canoe in the rough that you saw on the beach. They were away some weeks felling a huge tree, hollowing it out, and shaping it in the rough with their little axes—a laborious job. Yesterday they floated it home, and are now enjoying a well-earned rest before finishing the canoe and selling it. What you saw was not an exhibition of laziness, but a relaxation after prolonged arduous work.”

Just then a strongly-formed, well-built young man went past the house. “There, do you see him?” asked my visitor; “I saw him asleep in his hammock-chair.”

“Yes, I know him,” was my reply; “he is one of the head-men of this district. His father was wealthy as natives go in this part, and left him enough to give him the equivalent of £300 a year in your money. Would you work if you had £300 a year coming in?”

“By Jove, no!” he quickly replied, slapping his knee at the very idea of possessing £300 a year without working for it. “I would have a nice little house with a fine garden, and I would sit smoking all day in the midst of my flowers.”

“Just so!!!” was my comment.

The natives of Africa live in an enervating climate, with a temperature frequently nearer 95° in the shade than 70°. They dwell in the midst of a prolific nature that supplies their vegetable foods with very little exertion, and in such environments that their needs are few and easily met. In their natural state there are both lazy and industrious folk as in other countries.

When the white man arrives he engages his native workman, at so much per month, for twelve, eighteen, or twenty-four months. For the first time in his life the native has to work regular hours, starting and leaving off to the deep notes of a bell, or the tap, tap of a drum. At first the experience is novel, and he is most willing and hard-working; but pay-day is a long way off, his enthusiasm cools as the novelty passes away, and then the master will have to look vigilantly and constantly after his hired workman. Give him piece-work and pay him by results and you will see prodigies of labour, for every payment made on those lines is an incentive to further effort. The native as keenly enjoys money and what money brings in extra food, comforts, and prestige as the white man, and is as willing to work for them.

The employer of labour in Africa is the white man, and he desires to get as much work as he can for his money, and the employee tries to give as little of his energy and strength as he can for the pay he is to receive twelve, eighteen, or twenty-four months hence, consequently there is a clash of interests; and while the white man has the opportunity, among his friends, of talking loudly about the “lazy niggers,” let him sit with the natives round the fire one evening, and he may be surprised to learn that there is another point of view, and that not over-flattering to his fairness as a master.

I have frequently asked employers of labour in England whether they were satisfied with the work done for them by their day labourers, and while they readily allowed for exceptions, yet they spoke strongly of such men as “doing as little as possible for their pay.” Every branch of work that it is possible to give out as piece-work is nowadays so arranged. Why? The masters are satisfied, for they get done that for which they pay; the men are better pleased, for they receive what they earn, and the quickest and most industrious man gains the largest pay, and his superior energy is not balanced against the laziest man in the shop. Let us do justice to the black man. He is the only one who in such a climate can work long hours at a time, and for months at a stretch. All the evidences of civilization on the Congo are the results of his energy and endurance directed by his white master. He is, however, no fonder of work than the average white man; but like the latter he is willing to labour to increase his comforts in the house, his prestige in the village, and to meet his obligations as a man, a husband, and a father, for each relationship makes its own demands on his resources.

In 1890 we opened our Mission station at Monsembe, but previous to our arrival the natives had not had sufficient intercourse with white people either to increase their arts and industries or even to modify them by the introduction of new methods or new tools. The natives then were as they had been for many a generation, and their manufactures were limited by the materials at their disposal. In judging of the merits or demerits of the manufactures of a tribe, it is necessary to take into consideration the materials to be obtained in their district and the tools with which they are compelled, by force of circumstances, to do their work. Suppose the Lancashire people were restricted in their manufactures to such material as they could obtain from the surface of their county, and the small supplies that filtered through to them from the adjacent counties by laborious and costly transport over the hills, or by canoes on their rushing streams, we should hear nothing of the cotton mills, the weaving, the iron works, etc., of that industrious and hardy folk. It is what has been brought into the county, what has been dug from the bowels of its land, and the machinery and tools that have been imported into it that have given Lancashire the place it rightly holds in the commercial and industrial world. And what has been written of Lancashire can also be said of many another county in Great Britain, and should be recognized when judging of the merits or demerits of the arts and crafts of an African tribe.

Before the arrival of white men at Monsembe it was the practice of the natives to ornament their saucepans with a herring-bone pattern and with bands; their knives and spears with parallel incised lines, and with herring-bone pattern; their shields being made of basket-work material had often a border of lozenge pattern round the edge. The blades of paddles had parallel incised lines, and their canoes had the same kind of lines along the outer top edge. Handles of knives and hafts of spears were made in various shapes, and studded with brass nails, or bound round with brass ribbon. I never saw any drawings until I had been there a considerable time, and then they took to sketching on the fronts of their houses, and on letters they sent to each other. These sketches were of steamers, houses, and people. The drawings were done in charcoal, and when outlining a figure the cock’s-comb tattoo on the forehead was usually much exaggerated. They had no idea of perspective, but a sense of humour was often exhibited when “taking off” a person.

The hides and skins of animals were employed for various purposes. The skin of the hippopotamus was used for cuirasses; that of the buffalo, antelope, goat, and sheep for belts, basket-straps, and knife sheaths; that of the monkey, sygale, monitor, mongoose and civet cat for hats, belts, small sheaths, and ornamental aprons, or for containing charms; that of the boa constrictor and other large snakes for belts, sheaths, and drum heads. The skin was either stretched and pinned by wooden pegs on the ground, or laced on a frame. The bits of flesh were cut off, some wood ash rubbed on, and then it was left to dry in the sun. If a soft, flexible skin was desired, oil was rubbed into the skin after it was thoroughly dry. It was not the custom to take the hair off any of the skins. Leopard skins were prepared by the above mode, and were usually preserved whole as mats upon which chiefs and head-men sat.

If the owner of an animal wished to sell the flesh in open market the skin was not taken off, but the animal was so cut up that a piece of skin was left on each portion. The buyer could then see the kind of animal flesh offered for sale, and would know for a certainty whether it was tabooed to him or not. Goats, sheep, and dogs were thus cut up and hawked for sale through the villages. This custom of cutting up the animals so that the requirements of taboo might be met accounts for the destruction of a large number of skins in Africa; but when a party of hunters captured an antelope it was skinned, or when a family killed a goat or sheep and did not wish to sell any of it, the animal was skinned whole, and the hide was preserved and utilized. Although the skin of the electric fish (nina) is more than half an inch thick, I never saw it used for any purpose; in fact, the people would not even eat the flesh. I once tried to dry the skin in the hot, strong sun, but it became putrid before the sun had any effect on it.

There was a great demand for string, and it was met in the following way: The bark of a water-plant, called by the natives munkungi, was manufactured into rope and string. The withes were cut into lengths from 3 to 4 feet long and carried into the town, the bark was then peeled off—it strips easily—carefully scraped on both sides by running it between the edge of a knife and a board, and then spread in the sun to dry. The strips were taken in the hand, length by length, and spun by twisting them between the palm of the hand and the thigh of the operator. The different threads were then plaited into a string, and these were twisted together into cords three-eighths of an inch in diameter. Sometimes the palm-frond fibres were employed for making the finer strings and twine.

The strong cords were used for tying up their canoes and bundles; and also plaited into mats about 3 feet long by 1 foot to 1 foot 6 inches wide, for crushing the sugar-cane fibre when making sugar-cane wine. The better-made strings and twines were made into shoulder-bags or satchels, and also into fighting-belts. These belts were from 9 to 12 feet long, and about 4 or 5 inches wide, and were generally well smeared with pipe clay; they were wound round the abdomen just before a fight, and afforded a good protection against spear-thrusts. The string was wound on a wooden spool, and the fish-nets, of all sizes and shapes, were made by the ordinary process of netting, the mesh varying according to the size and purpose of the net.

For some years after we arrived at Monsembe the old folk wore bark cloth. A strip of bark 18 inches long by 5 or 6 inches wide, and 1½ inches thick was taken from the tree—the wild fig tree, or from a tree called ngumbu. The strip of bark was soaked in water for a time, and then beaten with an ivory mallet as it lay across the palm of the hand. The strip of bark gradually widened to 18 inches, and lengthened to 3 or 4 feet. Some cloths were very evenly beaten, so that no holes appeared; others were not so well done, and holes and uneven places showed in the finished cloth. Likuta was the name given to the finished cloth. I never saw any weaving among these Boloki folk, but they told me of an ancient native-made cloth called pelele; but I never saw a specimen of it, and cannot speak of its texture.

Not many baskets were made by the Boloki folk, but the most common was a wedge-shaped basket of medium texture, and with a capacity of about half a bushel, used for carrying home farm produce. This was made of split cane, of the same thickness and style as the seat of a cane chair. It was a large oval at the mouth running down to a small oval at the bottom, and was carried on the back either by a single strap across the chest or forehead, or by two small loops through which the arms were passed. For soaking their cassava roots long conical baskets were used with lids to tie down. Occasionally I saw their large sugar-cane wine-pots covered with stout basket-work, and strong handles plaited on to them. Other kinds of baskets found amongst this tribe were made by slaves captured or bought from neighbouring districts; and their shields of basket-work were, I believe, bought ready-made from other tribes. I never saw one in the making. A very large variety of fish-traps and baskets were made by these folk. Some were over 6 feet in diameter and long in proportion, while others were small enough for a child to handle. They were very dexterous in twisting canes into various shapes for their basket-work, and in making mats from papyrus.

The pottery made by the Boloki women divides itself easily into three kinds: 1. Saucepans of various sizes but only one shape. 2. Wine-pots from 6 inches high to 2 and 3 feet high and broad in proportion. 3.^[11] Firepans or hearths for carrying fire in their canoes when travelling. These latter had three prongs overhanging the top of the saucepan, upon which an ordinary cooking-pot could be placed, and allow of a free passage of air to the fire.

They had no knowledge of a wheel, but built up their pottery on a base by rolling the clay between the palms of the hands into long pencils about the size of a finger, and then welding the strip to the base and flattening it out with the fingers as they worked round the pot. The only decorations I have seen on their pottery are “chevrons” and “herring-bone.”

In baking their pottery no kilns were used, but firewood was laid carefully on the ground, and the pots arranged on the top, and then small firewood, twigs, etc., were thrown over the whole pile and the fire lighted.

On the Mobangi River I saw some varnishing done. When the pots were sufficiently baked, and while still very hot, they were rubbed over with lumps of gum copal. Pots treated in this way were suitable for drinking-vessels, or as dishes in which to place food; but they were unsuitable for cooking purposes, for directly the pot got hot the gum copal caught fire. Some, before being rubbed over with the gum copal, were smeared with arnotto dye, and thus showed red through the glazing.

Iron ore was imported from the upper reaches of the Lulanga River, and smelted in native crucibles. The furnace was a hole about 18 inches deep, about 15 inches in diameter at the top, and 8 to 10 inches at the bottom. Charcoal made from hard woods was the heating medium. The smelting pot with the ore was put in the middle of the furnace, and the blast was furnished by native bellows and conducted to the heart of the furnace by a funnel-shaped tube of burnt clay. The bellows were cut out of a solid block of wood. There were two holes, each from 8 to 12 inches in diameter, which opened below into a common wooden tube which fitted into the above-mentioned clay funnel. Over each of the holes a soft skin was securely tied, and to the centre of each skin was fixed a stick about 3 feet 6 inches long. The operator worked the sticks up and down alternately, and the more vigorously he worked the more powerful the blast.

The native blacksmith made hoes and axes; knives of various shapes and sizes; spear-heads of different kinds, barbed for fishing-spears, small-bladed ones for fighting, or broad-bladed fancy spears for purposes of show when visiting friends and neighbours. He also fashioned large hooks for catching crocodiles, the razors for shaving the head or face, lances for killing hippopotami, knives for household use, gouges and chisels for canoe-making, and piercers for matmaking. Unfortunately the introduction of European knives, hoes, and axes has ruined this native industry.

For some time after we settled at Monsembe the blacksmith would buy up the iron bands from our bales and boxes, and work them up into hoes, knives, axes, and spear-heads. The anvil was a block of hard wood, the hammer was a bar of iron about 8 or 10 inches long, and 1¼ inches square. They had no pincers, but when the piece of iron was too short to hold while working it they made a wooden handle for it, which they slipped on and off as required. They knew the process for making steel, and could put a very fine edge on their razors, spears, and knives.

Large brass rings for the neck were made in the following way: The potato-like substance of the plantain root was cut into shape of the desired circumference and thickness; this model was surrounded with well-kneaded clay, a funnel-shaped opening being made to let off steam, to clear out the charred fibre of the plantain root, and to pour in the molten metal. This mould, when completed, was baked in the fire, and as it baked the plantain-root model inside was burnt; the ashes were cleared out and the liquid brass poured in. When cool, the mould was broken and the brass ring was well polished by scraping and rubbing, and “herring-bone,” and “lozenge” patterns were cut on it.

Small rings were made for the legs and wrists. A ring was put on each leg, resting on the ankles; a year or so later another pair of rings was added to the first pair, and so on, until the rings almost reached the knees. By gradually adding ring to ring the wearer became used to the weight, and the ankles became corneous. I once took more than a dozen rings from the legs of a woman, weighing 60 lbs. in all—30 lbs. of brass on each leg. When these heavy rings had been removed the woman seemed top-heavy; her legs were now so light that apparently she had no control over them, and she crossed our enclosure like a drunken person. I have seen solid brass necklets weighing from 20 to 28 lbs. each. On one occasion, while chatting with a chief, I asked him if he buried the brass rings when his wives died, and he at once replied: “No.”

“How do you remove such heavy, strong rings from the neck of a dead woman?” was my next question.

He did not reply in words, but he ran his finger round his own neck, indicating that under such circumstances they cut off the head in order to remove the rings.

Long spiral leg rings were made in the following manner: A bamboo, from 12 to 15 feet long, was split (bamboo, Raphia vinifera, in which there are no nodes). The pith, to the desired depth and width, was taken out of one half and the molten brass^[12] was poured along this channel. This gave the operator a long brass rod about the thickness of the index finger, and this rod was carefully beaten round, scraped, and polished; and starting from the ankle it was wound round and round the leg nearly up to the knee, each circumference of the spiral being made a little larger than the one immediately below it. At the bottom the leglet impinged on the ankle, which bore the whole weight; but at the top it had 2 or 3 inches’ play about the calf of the leg. Brass ribbon was made by beating out the brass rods to the required width, and this ribbon was used for ornamenting spear and knife handles, the hafts of paddles, and knife sheaths.

The social position of a smith among the natives was very high, and he was regarded with as much respect as a professional man is in Europe. The natives thought that the smith was not only wise and skilful, but that he practised witchcraft in order to perform his work properly. No one was allowed to step over a smith’s furnace, nor blow it with his mouth, nor spit into it, as either of these actions would pollute the fire, and thus cause bad workmanship. Any person polluting the fire would have to compensate the smith by the payment of a heavy fine. A smith taught his son or his nephew the trade, but would not take an apprentice on any consideration. He was always known by the name of his trade, and was consequently called motuli = the one who tula, or works in iron.

How did the smith procure his brass for the making of rings, etc.? The currency of the country was the brass rod, and the rods were also used for their brass-work. The brass-worker would collect as many rods as possible, and cut from half an inch to one inch off each rod, and thus get his material for nothing.

Before, and for some time after, the arrival of white men salt^[13] was made by the natives burning two different kinds of vegetation. (1) The thick, succulent stems of a grass^[14] that grew in the water along the banks of the river. This was cut in large quantities and heaped along the bank until dry, when it was carried to the town. (2) It was also made from a small plant from 4 to 5 inches in diameter, with thickish leaves, no stem, rootlets coming straight from the leaves, with the leaves arranged like a rosette. This plant floats on the river in large quantities, being torn from the banks by every storm that ruffles the river. The process of manufacturing salt with either the plants or the grass was the same. A large quantity, say of the succulent grass, or grass and plants mixed, was collected on the bank, turned over from time to time until thoroughly dry; then it was carried to the town, heaped up, and burnt to ashes. A large funnel was made of leaves, folded and plaited together, and suspended from a stick. Into this funnel some ashes were put and water poured on them. The water dissolved the greater part of the ashes and percolated gently through the leaves into a shallow saucepan, where the moisture evaporated, leaving behind a dirty white granulated substance which was used and sold as salt. About a tablespoonful cost 1½d. I knew a semi-mad man who ate two tablespoonfuls of this salt and died in a few hours from the effect of it.

The Boloki were very fond of music, and quickly acquired a new tune. Their voices, as a rule, were loud, clear, steady, and flexible, and they sang from the chest. There were harsh, strident voices among them, but they were the exception, and at certain ages their voices broke and became falsetto. Their singing was mixed, i.e. men and women sang together, and was generally accompanied by an instrument, or by the beating of a stick on a plank, or the clapping of hands to give the time. In some ceremonies the women sang by themselves, at other times the men by themselves, and very often the two sexes together, as when travelling in their canoes. The companies sang in unison, and recitative time. Many of their songs were a combination of solo and chorus.

When paddling their canoes, either a small drum was beaten or a stick struck rhythmically on the edge of the canoe to give time to the stroke of their paddles, and to the rhythm of their songs, solos, and choruses. As a rule one sang a solo, and the others took up the chorus. Their songs were generally topical, and as they paddled up- or down-river they gave all the latest information of interest to the villages as they passed them. I have often been amazed at the rapidity and accuracy with which news was spread in this way. A canoe leaving Nouvelles Anvers (Diboko), where the State had a large station, would carry up or down river all the gossip about the doings and sayings of the white men of the station, accounts of their punitive expeditions, judgments passed on captives and prisoners, their treatment of the natives who had taken the taxes there, what new white folk were expected and who was leaving for Europe, etc. The white officers told their personal boys any item of news, and they passed on the items to their friends; hence in the course of an hour or two everybody on a station was acquainted with all the special bits of information worth knowing.

This singing answered another purpose: it gave warning to the village that a canoe was approaching, and that the folk in it were friendly. A canoe of any size that approached a town without singing and drumming was regarded as an enemy’s canoe, and was treated as such, i.e. spears, stones, etc., would be thrown at the occupants of it.

Occasionally a professional singer would visit our town and teach the young men a new tune. He charged two or three brass rods per person, but would not teach the tune unless he had enough pupils to pay him, and then he would stay a day or two until they had learned the tune perfectly; and when once they had caught it they would set their own words to it. A few years ago I wrote in my notebook as follows: “A professional dancer and singer has recently visited the town, and, like so many of his European brethren, he was marked by some eccentricity in dress. He wore a belt of red and blue baize about 18 inches wide (the usual width is 4 to 8 inches), which made him the observed of all observers. Our professional in walking about the town put on a swagger fully in keeping with his position and dignity—his bells tingled, and his monkey and wild cat skins dangled to and fro. He received a large fee from a mourning family that engaged him to dance and sing in honour of their dead relatives.”

The native songs may be divided into three classes: (a) topical, as sung in canoes while distributing news; (b) local songs, in which the events of the daily life of the village are temporarily recorded, as the bravery, cowardice, unsociability, generosity, meanness, thievishness, etc., of the men and women of village or town. These local songs have a great effect on the people, for they crystallize the public opinion concerning an individual, and the African hates nothing so much as being sung against or ridiculed in a song. (c) Songs at funeral festivities, when the praises of the dead are sung.

They borrowed tunes freely from other tribes, and soon learned to sing all the European tunes we cared to teach them; but I do not think that any sounds affected them like the rhythmical beat of their own drums. To that beat they would paddle vigorously for hours beneath the tropical sun; dance perspiringly through a long afternoon, or through a long night; fight recklessly, or drink their sugar-cane wine until their stomachs were well distended.

They were clever in making canoes, which were cut out of solid trees, sometimes from soft woods, but generally from hard timber, such as cedar, mahogany, and even camwood. These canoes were sometimes small enough to be handled by a child, and carried by one person, and so shallow of draught that they would run easily over a few inches of water; but they were also made large enough to take from 60 to 70 paddlers, and more than half a ton of cargo. The tree was felled and roughly shaped in the forest, and then floated to the town of the maker. It was drawn up out of the river, and a rough shelter built over it to shade the worker and keep the canoe from warping. A piece of Euphorbia candelabra was tied to it, and the maker was not to drink water while working on it, otherwise it would leak; and the charm kept it from cracking and warded off all evil influences from spoiling it.

They were also expert in making paddles, handles for axes and hoes, and in carving out chairs from solid blocks of wood. These latter had four legs and gracefully curving backs, but cost so much that only chiefs and head-men could afford them; and when they went to a drinking-bout at a neighbour’s it was no uncommon sight to see the women carrying the chairs and stools to accommodate their lords and masters in comfort while drinking. The natives, with teaching, made good carpenters, and were always handy with tools. Our advent, with new ideas of building and with many tools the like of which they had never seen before, opened to them fresh channels of industry; and as they lost their fear of the “witch-doctor” and were set free from his accusations of “witchcraft” they gave vent to their skill by imitating our dwellings, our furniture, and other conveniences that they saw about our houses, and had seen us make out of the very materials that they had always had to their hand. They eagerly exchanged fowls and other kinds of food for our tools, and we were always ready to help them. Before our arrival the “witch-doctor,” by threats of “witchcraft,” killed every aspiration of the people and smothered every sign of inventive genius that exhibited itself. To make anything out of the ordinary—any new article—was to be regarded as a “witch,” and trouble was sure to follow any suspicion of that kind. There was no hope for them until they burst the bonds that held them in thraldom to their “witch-doctors”; but once released from those miserable trammels, no limits can be set to their future progress.