APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE NATIVES — A MATRIMONIAL SQUABBLE — NATURAL CUNNING OF THE ASHIRA — VARIOUS MODES OF PROCURING FOOD — NATIVE PLANTATIONS — THE CHIEF’S “KOMBO,” OR SALUTATION — ASHIRA ARCHITECTURE — NATIVE AGRICULTURE — SLAVERY AMONG THE ASHIRA — MEDICINE AND SURGERY — AN “HEROIC” TREATMENT — SUPERSTITIONS — HOW TO CATCH GAME — TRIAL OF THE ACCUSED — THE ORDEAL OF THE RING — THE ASHIRA FAREWELL — FUNERAL CEREMONIES — DEATH AND BURIAL OF OLENDA.

The tribe next in order is the Ashira. These people are not so nomad in their habits as the Bakalai, and are therefore more concentrated in one locality. They certainly are apt to forsake a village on some great occasion, but they never move to any great distance, and are not so apt to take flight as the Bakalai. The Ashira are a singularly fine race of men. Their color is usually black, but individuals among them, especially those of high rank, are of a comparatively light hue, being of a dark, warm bronze rather than black. The features of the Ashira are tolerably good.

The dress of the natives has its distinguishing points. The men and married women wear the grass-cloth robe, and the former are fond of covering their heads with a neat cap made of grass. So much stress do they lay on this article of apparel, that the best way of propitiating an Ashira man is to give him one of the scarlet woollen caps so affected by fishermen and yachtsmen of our country. There is nothing which he prizes so highly as this simple article, and even the king himself will think no sacrifice too great provided that he can obtain one of those caps.

The men also carry a little grass bag, which they sling over one shoulder, and which is ornamented with a number of pendent strings or thongs. It answers the purpose of a pocket, and is therefore very useful where the clothing is of so very limited a character. Both sexes wear necklaces, bracelets, and anklets, made of thick copper bars, and they also display some amount of artistic taste in the patterns with which they dye their robes.

The strangest part of Ashira fashion is, that the females wear no clothing of any kind until they are married. They certainly tie a small girdle of grass cloth round the waists, but it is only intended for ornament, not for dress. As is usual in similar cases, the whole of the toilet is confined to the dressing of the hair and painting of the body. The woolly hair is teased out with a skewer, well rubbed with oil and clay, and worked up until it looks something like a cocked hat, rising high on the top of the head and coming to a point before and behind. Mostly, the hair is kept in its position by a number of little sticks or leaves, which are passed through it, and serve as the framework on which it rests. Filing the teeth is practised by the Ashira, though very few of them carry the practice to such an extent as to reduce the teeth to points.

Among the West Africans, the women are not so badly treated as in the south, and indeed, are considered nearly as the equals of men. They can hold property of their own, and are quite aware of the importance which such an arrangement gives them. Máyolo, one of the chiefs, had a most absurd quarrel with his favorite wife, a young woman of twenty years of age, and remarkable for her light-colored skin and hazel eyes. She had contrived either to lose or waste some of his tobacco, and he threatened to punish her by taking away the pipe, which, among these tribes, belongs equally to the husband and wife. She retorted that he could not do so, because the plantain stem of the pipe was cut from one of her own trees, and if he quarrelled with her, she would take away the stem, and not allow him to cut another from the plantain trees, which belonged to her and not to him. The quarrel was soon made up, but the fact that it took place at all shows the position which the women hold in domestic affairs.

As is often the case with savages, the Ashira exhibits a strange mixture of character. Ignorant though he may be, he is possessed of great natural cunning. No man can lie with so innocent a face as the “noble savage,” and no one is more capable of taking care of his own interests. The Ashira porters were a continual source of trouble to Du Chaillu, and laid various deep plans for increase of wages. Those of one clan refused to work in company with those of another, and, on the principle of trades’ unions, struck work unanimously if a man belonging to another clan were permitted to handle a load.

Having thus left the traveller with all his packages in the forest, their next plan was to demand higher wages before they would consent to re-enter the service. In the course of the palaver which ensued on this demand, a curious stroke of diplomacy was discovered. The old men appeared to take his part, declared that the demands of the young men were exorbitant, and aided him in beating them down, asking higher wages for themselves as a percentage on their honorable conduct. When the affair was settled, and the men paid, the young men again struck work, saying that it was not fair for the old men, who had no burdens to carry, to have higher wages than themselves, and demanding that all should be paid alike. In course of investigation it was discovered that this was a deeply-laid scheme, planned by both parties in order to exact higher wages for the whole.

These people can be at the same time dishonest and honorable, hard-hearted and kind, disobedient and faithful. When a number of Ashira porters were accompanying Du Chaillu on his journey, they robbed him shamefully, by some unfortunate coincidence stealing just those articles which could not be of the least use to them, and the loss of which would be simply irreparable. That they should steal his provisions was to be expected, but why they should rob him of his focussing glasses and black curtains of the camera was not so clear. The cunning of the Ashira was as remarkable as their dishonesty. All the villages knew the whole circumstances. They knew who were the thieves, what was stolen, and where the property had been hidden, but the secret was so well kept that not even a child gave the least hint which would lead to the discovery of the stolen goods.

Yet when, in the course of the journey, they were reduced to semi-starvation, on account of the negro habit of only carrying two or three days’ provision, the men happened to kill a couple of monkeys, and offered them both to the leader whom they had been so remorselessly plundering. Even when he refused to take them to himself, they insisted on his retaining the lion’s share, and were as pleasant and agreeable as if no differences had existed.

Next day, however, those impulsive and unreflecting creatures changed their conduct again. They chose to believe, or say they believed, that the expedition would come to harm, and tried to get their pay in advance, for the purpose of running off with it. When this very transparent device was detected, they openly avowed their intention of running away, and threatened to do so even without their pay. Fortunately, the dreaded name of Quengueza had its effect on them, and, as it was represented to them that war would certainly be made on the Ashira by that chief if they dared to forsake the white traveller whom he had committed to their charge, they resumed their burdens. In the course of the day supplies arrived, and all was peace again.

The reason why the natives dislike taking much food with them is that the plantains which form the usual rations are very heavy, and the men would rather trust to the chance of coming on a village than trouble themselves with extra loads. However, there are the koola and mpegai nuts, on which the natives usually live while travelling in the nut season.

The koola is a singularly useful nut. It grows in such abundance on the tree, that when the nuts are ripe, the whole crown of the koola tree appears to be a single mass of fruit. It is round, about as large as a cherry, and the shell is so hard that it has to be broken between two stones. Thirty of these nuts are considered sufficient for a meal, even for a native African, and, as a general rule, the trees are so plentiful that the natives do not trouble themselves about carrying food in the nut season. M. du Chaillu, however, was singularly unfortunate, for he contrived to miss the koola trees on his journey, and hence the whole party suffered great privation.

The wild swine know the value of the koola nuts as well as the natives, and in the season become quite fat and sleek.

The mpegai nut is round, like the koola, but the kernel is three-lobed. It is so full of oil that it is formed into cakes by the simple operation of pounding the kernel, folding the paste in leaves, and smoking them over a wood fire. When thus treated, it can be kept for a considerable time, and is generally eaten with pepper and salt, if these can be obtained. Neither the koola nor the mpegai are cultivated by the improvident natives.

About ten miles from Olenda’s residence was a village belonging to a chief named Angouka, and remarkable for the manner in which the plantain was cultivated. In one plantation there were about thirty thousand trees, set about five feet apart. Each tree produced five or six shoots, but the cultivators cut away all but two or three of the finest, in accordance with true arboricultural principles. On an average, thirty pounds’ weight of fruit were grown on each tree, and the natives managed so as to keep up a tolerably constant supply by planting several varieties of the tree, some bearing fruit in six months after planting, some ten months, and others not until eighteen months, the last being the best and most fertile.

While describing the journeys of certain travellers, mention is frequently made of the porters and their loads. The burdens are carried in rather a peculiar manner. The men have a sort of oblong basket, called “otaitai,” which is made of canes woven closely along the bottom, and loosely along the sides. The elasticity of the sides enables it to accommodate itself to various-sized loads, as they can be drawn together if the loads should be small, or expanded to admit a larger burden. Three broad straps, made of rushes, are fixed to the otaitai, one passing over each shoulder of the porter and the other one over his forehead.

Some of the ceremonies employed by the Ashira are very curious. Each chief has a sort of salutation, called “Kombo,” which he addresses to every one of importance whom he meets for the first time. For example, when M. du Chaillu met Olenda, the head chief of a sub-tribe of the Ashira, a singular scene took place. After waiting for some time, he heard the ringing of the “kando” or sacred bell, which is the emblem of royalty in this land, and which is only sounded on occasions of ceremony.

Presently the old chief appeared—a man of venerable aspect, and very old indeed. His woolly hair was perfectly white, his body bent almost double with age, and his face one mass of wrinkles. By way of adding to the beauty of his countenance, he had covered one side of his face with red and the other with white stripes. He was so old that he was accompanied by many of his children, all old, white-headed, and wrinkled men. The natives held him in great respect, believing that he had a powerful fetish against death.

As soon as he had recovered from the sight of a clothed man with straight hair, steady eyes, and a white face, he proceeded to make a speech which, when translated, was as follows: “I have no bowels. I am like the Ovenga River: I cannot be cut in two. But also, I am like the Niembai and Ovenga rivers, which unite together. Thus my body is united, and nothing can divide it.” This address was rather puzzling because no sense could be made from it, but the interpreter explained that this was merely the kombo, and that sense was not a necessary ingredient in it.

According to the etiquette of the country, after Olenda had made his salutation, he offered his presents, consisting of three goats, twenty fowls, twenty bunches of plantains, several baskets of ground-nuts, some sugar-cane, and two slaves. That the last-mentioned articles should be declined was a most astonishing phenomenon to the Ashira. This mode of salutation is finely represented in an engraving on the next page.

The villages of the Ashira are singularly neat and cleanly, a most remarkable fact, considering the propensity to removal on the death of an inhabitant. They consist mostly of one long street, the houses being built of bark, and having the ground cleared at the back of the houses as well as in the front,—almost the only example of such industry in this part of Africa. Paths invariably lead from one village to another.

The Ashira are a tolerably industrious tribe, and cultivate the land around their villages, growing tobacco, plantains, yams, sugar-cane, and other plants with much success. The tobacco leaves, when plucked and dried, are plaited together in a sort of flat rope, and are then rolled up tightly, so that a considerable quantity of tobacco is contained in a very small space.

Of course, they drink the palm wine, and, as the method of procuring this universally favorite beverage is rather peculiar, it will be briefly explained. The native, taking with him an empty calabash or two, and a kind of auger, climbs the tree by means of a hoop made of pliant creepers; tying the hoop loosely round the tree, he gets into it, so that his back is pressed against the hoop and his feet against the tree. By a succession off “hitches,” he ascends the tree, much as a chimney-sweep of the old times used to ascend the wide chimneys, which are now superseded by the narrow, machine-swept flues, lifting the hoop at every hitch, and so getting up the tree with wonderful rapidity. When he has reached the top, he takes the auger out of the little bag which is hung round his neck, and bores a deep hole, just below the crown of the palm. A leaf is then plucked, rolled up in a tubular form, and one end inserted into the hole, the calabash being hung just below the other end. During the night the sap runs freely into the calabash, several quarts being procured in a single night. In the morning it is removed and a fresh calabash substituted. Even in its fresh state the juice is a very pleasant drink, but after standing for twenty-four hours it ferments, and then becomes extremely intoxicating, the process of fermentation being generally hastened by adding the remains of the previous day’s brewing. The supply of juice decreases gradually, and, when the native thinks that the tree will produce no more, he plugs up the hole with clay to prevent insects from building their nests in it, and so killing the valuable tree. Three weeks is the average juice-producing time, and if a tree be forced beyond this point it is apt to die.

Besides the tobacco, the Ashira cultivate a plant called the liamba, i. e. Cannabis, or Indian hemp, either the same species from which the far-famed haschish of the East is made, or very closely allied to it. They always choose a rich and moist soil on the sunny side of a hill, as the plant requires both heat and moisture to attain perfection. The natives seem to prefer their liamba even to the tobacco; but there are some doubts whether both these plants have not been imported, the tobacco from America and the liamba from Asia, or more likely from north-western Africa. Du Chaillu says that the Ashira and Apingi are the only tribes who cultivate it. Its effects upon the smokers are terrible, causing them to become for the time insane, rushing into the woods in a frantic state, quarrelling, screaming, and at last falling down in convulsions. Permanent madness is often the result of over-indulgence in this extraordinary luxury.

The above-mentioned traveller met with an idiot among the Ashira. Contrary to the usual development of idiocy among the Africans, the man was lively and jocular, jumping about with all kinds of strange antics, and singing joyous songs. The other inhabitants were very fond of him, and treated him well, and with a sort of reverence, as something above their comprehension. Idiots of the dull kind are treated harshly, and the usual mode of getting rid of them is to sell them as slaves, and so to foist them upon the purchaser before he learns the quality of his bargain.

Slavery exists among the Ashira as among other tribes, but is conducted in so humane a character that it has little connection with the system of slavery as the word is generally understood. Olenda, for example, had great numbers of slaves, and kept them in separate settlements, each consisting of two or three hundred, each such settlement having its chief, himself a slave. One of these slave chiefs was an Ashango, a noble-looking man, with several wives and plenty of children. He exercised quite a patriarchal sway over the people under his charge, and neither he nor the slaves seemed to consider their situation at all degrading, calling themselves the children of Olenda.

This village was remarkably neat, and the houses were better built than those of the Ashira generally. The inhabitants had cleared a large tract of ground, and covered it with the plantains, sugar-canes, and ground-nuts, all of which were thriving wonderfully, and had a most picturesque appearance when contrasted with the wild beauties of the surrounding forest. Most of these slave families had been inherited by Olenda, and many of them had never known any other kind of life.

Medicine and surgery are both practised among the tribes that live along the Rembo, and in a very singular manner. The oddest thing about the practitioner is, that the natives always try to procure one from another tribe, so that an Ashango patient has a Bakalai doctor, and vice versa. The African prophet has little honor in his own country, but, the farther he goes, the more he is respected. Evil spirits that have defied all the exorcisms of home-bred prophets are sure to quail before the greater powers of a sorcerer who lives at a distance; while the same man who has failed at home is tolerably sure to succeed abroad.

The natives have one grand panacea for all kinds of disorders, the same being used for both lumbago and leprosy. This consists of scarifying the afflicted part with a knife, making a great number of slight cuts, and then rubbing in a mixture of pounded capsicum and lime juice. The agony caused by this operation is horrible, and even the blunt nerves of an African can barely endure the pain. If a native is seized with dysentery, the same remedy is applied internally, and the patient will sometimes drink half a tumblerful for a dose. There is some ground for their faith in the capsicum, for it really is beneficial in the West African climate, and if a traveller feels feverish he can generally relieve the malady by taking plenty of red pepper with his food. Sometimes, when the disease will not yield to the lime juice and pepper, stronger remedies are tried. M. du Chaillu saw a curious instance of the manner in which a female practitioner exercised her art on Máyolo, whose quarrel with his wife has already been mentioned.

The patient was seated on the ground, with a genet skin stretched before him, and the woman was kneading his body with her hands, muttering her incantations in a low voice. When she had finished this manipulation, she took a piece of the alumbi chalk, and drew a broad stripe down the middle of his chest and along each arm. Her next process was to chew a quantity of roots and seeds, and to spirt it over the body, directing her heaviest shots at the affected parts. Lastly, she took a bunch of dried grasses, twisted them into a kind of torch, lighted it, and applied the flame to various parts of the body and limbs, beginning at the feet and ending with the head. When the torch had burned itself out, she dashed the glowing end against the patient’s body, and so ended her operations. Máyolo sat perfectly still during the proceedings, looking on with curiosity, and only wincing slightly as the flame scorched his skin. The Africans have a great faith in the efficacy of fire, and seem to think that, when it has been applied, it effectually prevents a recurrence of the disease.

The worship of the Ashira is idolatry of the worst description. One of their ongaras, or idols, named the Housekeeper, was purchased by Du Chaillu. It was, of course, hideously ugly, represented a female figure, and was kept in the house of a chief for the purpose of protecting property. The natives were horribly afraid of it, and, so long as the Housekeeper was in her place, the owner might leave his goods in perfect security, knowing that not a native would dare to touch them.

Skilful hunters as they are, they never start on the chase without preparing themselves by sundry charms. They hang all kinds of strange fetishes about their persons, and cut the backs of their hands for luck, the flowing blood having, according to their ideas, a wonderful efficacy. If they can rub a little powdered sulphur into the cuts, the power of the charm is supposed to be doubled, and any man who has thus prepared himself never misses his aim when he shoots. Painting the face red is also a great assistance in hunting; and, in consequence of these strange beliefs, a party of natives just starting for the chase presents a most absurd appearance.

Along the river Rembo are certain sacred spots, on which the natives think themselves bound to land and dance in honor of the spirit. In one place there is a ceremony analogous to that of “crossing the line” in our own vessels. When any one passes the spot for the first time, he is obliged to disembark, to chant a song in praise of the local deity, to pluck a bough from a tree and plant it in the mud. When Du Chaillu passed the spot, he was requested to follow the usual custom, but refused, on the ground of disbelief in polytheism. As usual, the natives admitted his plea as far as he was concerned. He was a great white man, and one God was enough for the rich and wise white men. But black men were poor and ignorant, and therefore wanted plenty of gods to take care of them.

Many superstitions seem to be connected with trees. There is one magnificent tree called the “oloumi,” perhaps the largest species that is to be found in Western Africa. The bark of the oloumi is said to possess many healing qualities, and, if a man washes himself all over with a decoction of the bark before starting on a trading expedition, he will be sure to make good bargains. Consequently, the oloumi trees (which are rather scarce) are always damaged by the natives, who tear great strips of bark from the trunk for the purpose of making this magic decoction.

A rather remarkable ordeal is in use among the Ashira,—remarkable because it is so exactly like the ordeals of the Middle Ages.

A Bakalai canoe had been injured, and a little boy, son to Aquilai, a far-famed Bakalai sorcerer, said that the damage had been done by one of Quengueza’s men. Of course the man denied the accusation, and called for the ordeal, and, as the matter concerned the Bakalai, an Ashira wizard was summoned, according to the usual custom. He said that “the only way to make the truth appear was by the trial of the ring boiled in oil.” Hereupon the Bakalai and the Goumbi (i. e. Camma) men gathered together, and the trial was at once made.

“The Ashira doctor set three little billets of bar wood in the ground, with their ends together, then piled some smaller pieces between, until all were laid as high as the three pieces. A native pot half full of palm oil was set upon the wood, and the oil was set on fire. When it burned up brightly, a brass ring from the doctor’s hand was cast into the pot. The doctor stood by with a little vase full of grass, soaked in water, of which he threw in now and then some bits. This made the oil burn up afresh. At last all was burnt out, and now came the trial. The accuser, the little boy, was required to take the ring out of the pot. He hesitated, but was pushed on by his father. The people cried out, ‘Let us see if he lied or told truth.’ Finally he put his hand in, seized the redhot ring, but quickly dropped it, having severely burned his fingers. At this there was a shout, ‘He lied! He lied!’ and the Goumbi man was declared innocent.”

The reader will remember that when Du Chaillu visited the Ashira, he was received by the wonderful old chief Olenda, whose salutation was of so extraordinary a character. The mode in which he dismissed his guests was not less curious. Gathering his old and white-haired sons round him, Olenda addressed the travellers, wishing them success, and uttering a sort of benediction. He then took some sugar-cane, bit a piece of the pith out of it, chewed it, and spat a small portion into the hand of each of the travellers, muttering at the same time some words to the effect that he hoped that all things would go pleasantly with them, and be sweet as the breath which he had blown on their hands. The reader will find this “Farewell” illustrated on page 499.

Advanced as was his age, he lived for some years longer, until he succumbed to the small-pox in common with many of his relatives and people. The circumstances attending his death and burial were very characteristic of the people.

First Olenda’s head wife died of it, and then the disease spread with frightful rapidity through the district, the whole of the chief’s wives being taken with it, and Mpoto, his nephew and heir, dying after a very short illness. Then Olenda himself took the disease. Day after day the poor old man’s plaintive voice was heard chanting his song of grief at the pestilence which had destroyed his clan, and one morning he complained of fever and thirst, the sure signs of the disease. On the third day afterward Olenda was dead, having previously exhorted the people that if he died they were not to hold the white man responsible for his death. The exhortation was needful, as they had already begun to accuse him of bringing the small-pox among them.

His body was disposed of in the usual Ashira manner. It was taken to an open place outside the village, dressed in his best clothes, and seated on the earth, surrounded with various articles of property, such as chests, plates, jugs, cooking utensils, pipes, and tobacco. A fire was also made near him, and kept burning for several weeks. As the body was carried to the place of sepulture, the people broke out in wild plaintive cries, addressing the deceased, and asking him why he left his people. Around him were the bones of many other chiefs who had preceded him to the spirit-world; and as the Ashira do not bury their dead, but merely leave them on the surface of the ground, it may be imagined that the place presented a most dismal aspect.

For several days after Olenda’s death the people declared that they had seen their deceased chief walking among them, and saying that he had not left them entirely, but would guard and watch over them, and would return occasionally to see how they were going on.