INTRODUCTION
When living at San Salvador, in what is now known as the Portuguese Congo, in the early eighties of last century, the writer frequently conversed with the natives about the inhabitants of the far interior who occupied the banks of the Great Congo River and its tributaries. The San Salvador folk assured him that the natives of the mysterious hinterland were “half fish and half human”; that “from the navel upwards they were human, and downwards they were fish.” No arguments would alter their opinion, and no amount of good-natured raillery would shift them from their position; and they generally clinched the matter by saying: “You have never seen these people; but some of our grandfathers saw them, and told our fathers about them.”
One night this general belief that up-river folk were “half fish and half human,” received a severe shock from which, I think, it never recovered. A caravan that had been trading towards Stanley Pool returned to San Salvador bringing with it a slave woman from far up the river. About midnight I was aroused to go and see this woman. No one understood her language; but she was making vigorous signs, and her owner was not sure whether the gestures indicated hunger, fatigue, or illness; so there was nothing for it but to “call the white man to interpret the signs,” or, perchance to talk with her, “for these white men know everything, therefore let us send for one residing in our town.”
On arriving at the hut we saw, by the flickering blaze of the fire, a fine, well-proportioned woman of splendid physique. Her hair was arranged in a coiffure, coloured, stiffened, and kept in shape by being plastered with palm-oil, and the powder of burnt pea-nuts, or soot. It looked as though she wore a shining black fez on her head, slightly tilted backwards. She was probably a Bambala, or a Kiteke woman of that branch of the tribe that lived behind the riverine folk three hundred miles above Stanley Pool.
The signs were interpreted as denoting some stomach trouble, and after a little medicine had been given we heard no more about it. During the short time she remained in the town she was the observed of all observers—a curiosity from afar; but her appearance killed once for all “the half human and half fish” theory the San Salvador natives had so fondly held respecting the inhabitants of the Upper Congo.
When in later years I went to live among the Bangalas on the Upper River, I found that they held as strange theories about the remoter peoples higher up, or north and south of them. They would tell of monsters down south whose chief was a woman[1] with a white skin that shone so fiercely that the eyes of those who looked on her were scorched; or of people away north who lived in trees and ate raw flesh, etc., because they did not know how to make a fire; or of folk far away in the watery west who lived half their time in the water and had webbed feet like ducks. It would seem as though folk of all climes, of all ages, and of all degrees of civilization have amused themselves by peopling unknown regions with mythical monsters—Cyclops, men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders, centaurs, mermaids, etc., and that even the savages of barbarous Africa beguiled the long evenings around their fires by conjuring up freaks in nature, like the more learned ancients, to inhabit the countries beyond their ken.
1. Had the fact that some portions of South Africa were governed by a woman—Queen Victoria—filtered through the tribes in this distorted fashion?
There is another peculiarity of the natives, worthy, perhaps, of notice in this connection: those who live on the coast always refer to the hinterland folk in contemptuous terms as “bush-people,” i.e. ignorant, dull, slow in the up-take, or as we say, country yokels, clod-hoppers. When you arrive in the hinterland you find that dwellers in the large towns speak of those who live in the villages and hamlets as “bush-people,” and they put into their tones such contempt that one is surprised to find that they belong to the same tribe and speak the same language.
Arriving on the Upper River you find also that all riverine peoples speak of the interior folk—those living away from the river—as “bush-people,” and utterly beneath their notice. There is no more opprobrious phrase that can be flung at a native than to call him a “bush-man” in a language that he understands. He will resent it, and if there is the slightest chance of success he will fight over it.
In June, 1890, after having lived on the Lower Congo at San Salvador and Matadi for nine years, I started for the Upper Congo for the purpose of seeking out a new site for missionary effort amongst the natives of a new tribe and language. Between the last navigable point on the Lower Congo, Matadi, and the commencement of the navigable water on the Upper Congo, Stanley Pool, there were 240 miles of very bad, rough road.
Since those days a Belgian company has built a narrow-gauge railway running between Matadi and Stanley Pool. I cannot pay too high a tribute to the splendid courage, persistency and engineering skill exhibited by the Belgians who surveyed the land for the lines at the cost of many lives; and built the railway, conquering immense difficulties, and thus achieving for themselves a great and deserved financial success. If the Congo Free State had sent men of the same kind and class to govern the country that the railway company sent, and are sending, to build and control the railway, we should never have heard about the terrible atrocities that have taken place, nor should we have heard of mal-administration, cruel oppression, and the mutilation of wretched, unprotected natives.
The railway officials treat their native employees honourably and honestly; and although hundreds of our native Christians work on the railway as stokers, guards, brakesmen, storekeepers, and stationmasters, I have never heard a single complaint from them against their white masters. They have to work hard, but they are treated justly, and they are sure of their pay; and our native Christians are always ready to sign contracts with the railway authorities for one or more years.
In the early eighties the road from Matadi to Stanley Pool was thickly populated, and every hour or two brought the traveller to a large, decently-kept town; but in 1890 the people were mostly gone, and the few villages left on that long stretch of road were small and neglected, and the few remaining people had a wretched, poverty-stricken appearance. Why this change?
In the meantime the country had become the possession of the African International Association, which quickly changed into the Congo Free State with King Leopold II of Belgium as its ruler. Zanzibaris were imported during this period, armed with rifles, and sent up-country to found and occupy the State stations on the Upper Congo. These soldiers no doubt were liberally provided with brass rods to buy native food on their march to Stanley Pool; but they found a people practically unarmed, for what were flint-lock guns in the hands of natives—who depended more on the magic of their “medicine men” for straight shooting than on the accuracy of their aim—against weapons of precision in the hands of a trained and unscrupulous soldiery such as were the Zanzibaris? The results were constant raiding on the part of the Zanzibaris; looting of unprotected native huts; taking twenty rods’ worth of food and throwing down only two or three rods in payment; and often when there was a white officer in charge, and he was appealed to, no redress was obtained by the defrauded native, nor punishment meted out to the offender; but frequently the accuser was beaten from the white man’s presence, thus adding physical suffering and insult to the loss of goods.
There is a probability that the natives were turbulent and swaggering in their attitude; but it was not until after the first outrages had been committed by the Zanzibaris that the natives retaliated on every favourable occasion. From what I know of the folk from thirty years’ experience of them, I feel sure they were not the first aggressors—they had, and still have, too wholesome a fear of rifles to be that. It was only when they had been treated like rats, having no rights in their own country, that at last, like rats, they turned at bay with hearts inflamed by hatred and revenge. But flint-lock guns could not compete with rifles; and small, untrained bodies of men lacking leaders and cohesion could not contend against drilled soldiers who fired bullets that penetrated two or three men, so there was nothing for them but to leave their towns on the road, and build away in the forests and valleys at some distance from the main track running through the country.
Hence what was once a populous trade route, humming with life in the early eighties, had become by 1890 a desolate track that by its lack of people disappointed the new-comer, who in Europe had heard of the teeming millions of the Congo, but could not now in 240 miles of road find enough people to fill a decent-sized English village. “Where are the people?” was the frequent question on his lips.
“They have left the trade route, and have rebuilt their towns and villages in the woods, the valleys, and the bush-lands for peace and security,” was the repeated answer.
“Why?” was invariably the next question.
“Because the land was cursed with a plague of rascally Zanzibaris, and irresponsible white men who feared their soldiers more than they feared God, and who acted unjustly in their dealings with the people.”
Lest some of my readers should think that I am unduly prejudiced in the above statements of what took place on the Stanley Pool road, let me give the history of another trade route in practically the same part of the Congo along which people of the same tribe and language lived, and for the same period of time, viz. 1878-1890.
The pioneers of our Mission in 1878 penetrated the interior from Musuku, which is about fifteen miles below Matadi, and used that place as a base for nearly five years. In 1883 a better site for their purpose was found on the top of the hill at Tunduwa (about three miles below Matadi). Our early pioneers[2] found the road between Musuku and San Salvador well populated with hospitable people, with plenty of food, so that there was no need to take rations for men, and very little provisions for themselves, and towns were so numerous that a tent was unnecessary.
2. Messrs. Comber, Bentley, Crudgington, Hartland, and Grenfell.
When we removed our base to Tunduwa the traveller to San Salvador dropped down to Noki in a boat, and in two or three hours from Noki he joined the Musuku to San Salvador route. It was generally a five-days’ journey.
When I left Musuku in January, 1882, for San Salvador, I found just what my predecessors had found—plenty of villages, abundance of supplies (fowls, eggs, goats, vegetables, native bread, etc.), and a hospitable people ever ready to lend us a house in which to pass the night; and for all the eight years I knew the road intimately, and traversed it, the supply of food, the number of villages, and the kindliness of the people remained the same. Yet during that time there was an increase of traffic on the road, for our transport grew as our Mission extended; and in the meantime two trading factories—one French and the other Portuguese—were started and maintained in San Salvador, necessitating a greater number of carriers on the road.
Photo by: Rev. A. Billington
A Meal “en route”
The carriers, tired with a four hours’ journey, on coming to a resting-place, drop their loads and stretch themselves for a good rest. The personal lads prepare a meal, and as there is a white lady in the party a white table-cloth is spread over the rough table in her honour.
Photo by: Rev. C. F. Dodds
A New Type of Native House
These large, airy wattle and daub houses are taking the place of the old-style grass huts that were formerly the usual structures throughout the district. They are more healthy, clean, and comfortable.
What made the striking difference between the two routes—depopulation and poverty on the one, continued prosperity on the other? I have already given the causes for the wretchedness and desolation found on the road to Stanley Pool in 1890 and the succeeding years; now let me state, clearly and briefly, the reasons for the flourishing condition of the San Salvador road. The men used for the transport service on the latter route were natives of San Salvador and district, Kroo boys and Loangos, they travelled unarmed, they bought their food, and so long as they observed the well-known courtesies of the road they moved freely and were unmolested. The carriers thus behaving themselves en route, the natives treated them fairly, and often supplied them with water—a by no means trifling kindness in a country where there are no water-taps in the houses, and the refreshing drink has often to be carried a mile or more.
The inhabitants of the various villages knew that if they overcharged the porters, were extortionate in their demands, and surly in their conduct, the carriers would give them a wide berth and, by making a detour, leave them severely alone; and thus a regular source of their village’s wealth would be cut off. Besides, the natives are fond of social intercourse, giving and receiving news, and these men who passed constantly to and fro between the centre of native life at San Salvador and the outside world as represented by the trading stations on the river, were always full of interesting news, and to turn them aside from a village by outrageous conduct was equal to cutting themselves off from the world, stopping as it were the daily papers and the weekly budgets. This was unthinkable, for natives are sociable folk and like to keep in touch with their fellows.
When any serious cases of dispute arose between the carriers and the natives on the road, they were brought to us at San Salvador, and we settled them impartially, justly, and amicably to the satisfaction of the parties concerned.
The natives who lived near the large rivers that were impassable by fording during the rainy season, built bridges across them, and kept them in repair. We white men at San Salvador acknowledged our indebtedness for this service by paying an understood sum in barter goods—the traders paying a much larger amount than the Missions[3] because their transport was heavier—when we heard they had completed the bridges. It was no easy task to make these bridges long and strong enough, considering the materials and tools the workmen had at their disposal; but it meant for us that the road for our cases, bales, and mails was open all the year round, and also that our carriers and goods ran no risks from swollen, swirling rivers.
3. The Portuguese Roman Catholic Mission settled at San Salvador a year or more after we had begun our Mission.
It will be seen from the above that the natives on the San Salvador road were treated very differently from those on the other trade route under consideration, consequently the villagers of the former maintained the food supply, retained their character for hospitality, and continued to live and thrive on the transport line; while the people on the Stanley Pool route left the track, and starvation, depopulation, and desolation were the results. The Congo natives have a keen sense of justice, and they appreciate straight and honest dealing.
It was my first intention to add a chapter on the results of the Congo Free State’s régime. I refrain, however, from doing so, but desire to touch upon the subject in a few short paragraphs. The charges brought against the Congo Free State during recent years have, unfortunately for the natives, been proved too true. More than that, they were worse than could ever be published in the daily Press, for no self-respecting editor could, or would, have printed in his paper the outrageous and abominable details that were brought to light by those who were living in the midst of them.
We hope, and we trust not in vain, that by the accession of King Albert and his gracious consort, Queen Elizabeth, to the throne of Belgium a better day is dawning for the poor, oppressed and downtrodden natives of the Congo; and the news that has come to us from the reformed part of the Congo indicates greatly improved conditions.
It is tacitly understood just now that we should give the Belgian State an opportunity of carrying out its reforms; and although the agitation is not being prosecuted with its former activity, that does not mean that we are to relax our former vigilance, nor shall we do so until the natives enjoy those rights which are their proper heritage in their own country.
We missionaries are neither ashamed nor repentant, and never will be, of the humanitarian part we played in bringing to light the enormities that came to our notice. We had given up home, the comforts of civilization and, rightly or wrongly, we had devoted our lives to the amelioration of the natives, and we could not as men, as Englishmen, as Christian men, stand by and see those natives, for whom we had given up all, slowly oppressed to death for the sake of a clique of men in Europe who were in a hurry to get rich.
I was among the first to raise my voice against the horrible conditions that prevailed until recently in many parts of the Congo, and my mode of procedure was this: I sent my letter of protest, first to the “Commissaire” of my district; if no investigation into the charges was made, then I forwarded a copy of the letter to the Governor-General at Boma, and then, if after waiting the necessary length of time there was neither inquiry nor redress, the letter, with all particulars, was posted to Mr. Morel for publication in the English Press as the last resort. The State itself forced us to appeal to the public.
The Commission of Inquiry selected by King Leopold himself exonerated us from all blame and thanked us for the part we had taken in the agitation, for on investigation we were able to prove to the very hilt every charge we had brought against the administration of the now defunct Congo Free State. It is too late in the day for travellers to deny that atrocities were committed because natives do not talk to them about such things. Let such travellers thoroughly learn the language of the people and gain their confidence and then listen to their story.
The native does not wear his heart on his sleeve for every crow to peck at, and when he sees a white man, here to-day and gone to-morrow, who knows little or nothing of his language, hob-nobbing with State officials, he is not going to pour out his heart to such and tell what he has suffered at the hands of the traveller’s white friends.
What the Congo needs is a Government not seeking to enrich itself to-day, but with visions of a colony the inhabitants of which, in days to come, shall rise up and call it blessed; it needs civil officers swayed by honourable principles, and controlled by pure, conscientious motives that shall administer impartially righteous laws; it needs traders who shall deal fairly by the people (and some of them do that, we are glad to say), who will exchange the wares, the civilized conveniences (not fiery spirits) of Europe for the labour and produce of the natives as a further incentive for them to work, travel, and trade; it needs the agriculturist to introduce better methods of cultivating the soil and fostering the resources of the country; it needs the mechanic to teach various trades and industries; the educationalist and the Christian teacher to cultivate the mental and spiritual side of the natives—these all working harmoniously together, no one class sneering at the other, no one arrogating to himself the work of another, but respecting each other and co-operating for the uplifting, civilizing, and Christianizing of the Congo people. We shall then see a people not cursing the white man, but blessing him; not cringing before the white master in grovelling fear and hearts bursting with hatred, but standing erect as God intends men to stand; and not downtrodden and oppressed, their lives a misery to them, but free and happy with the joy of life pulsating through their veins.