The uncivilized races of men in all countries of the world; vol. 1 of 2 / Being a comprehensive account of their manners and customs, and of their physical, social, mental, moral and religious characteristics

by J. G. Wood

THE APINGI.

Passing westward toward the coast, we come to the Apingi tribe. These people inhabit a tolerably large tract of country, and extend along the west side of a range of hills which separates them from the Ishogo.

The Apingi are not a handsome race. Their skin is black, with a decided tinge of yellow, but this lightness of hue may probably be owing to the mountainous regions which they inhabit. They wear the usual grass cloth round the waist, and the women are restricted to two of the squares, each twenty-four inches long by eighteen wide, as is the custom throughout a large portion of West Africa. They do not, however, look on clothing in the same light as we do, and so the scantiness of their apparel is of no consequence to them.

This was oddly shown by the conduct of the head wife of Remandji, an Apingi chief. She came with her husband to visit M. du Chaillu, who presented her with a piece of light-colored cotton cloth. She was delighted with the present, and, much to her host’s dismay, proceeded to disrobe herself of her ordinary dress, in order to indue the new garment. But, when she had laid aside the grass-cloth petticoat, some object attracted her attention, and she began to inspect it, forgetting all about her dress, chattering and looking about her for some time before she bethought herself of her cotton robe, which she put on quite leisurely.

This woman was rather good-looking, but, as a rule, the Apingi women are exceedingly ugly, and do not improve their beauty by the custom of filing the teeth, and covering themselves with tattooing. This practice is common to both sexes, but the women are fond of one pattern, which makes them look much as if they wore braces, a broad band of tattooed lines passing over each shoulder, and meeting in a V-shape on the breast. From the point of the V, other lines are drawn in a curved form upon the abdomen, and a similar series is carried over the back. The more of these lines a woman can show, the better dressed she is supposed to be.

The grass cloths above-mentioned are all woven by the men, who can make them either plain or colored. A square of the former kind is a day’s work to an Apingi, and a colored cloth requires from two to three days’ labor. But the Apingi, like other savages, is a very slow workman, and has no idea of the determined industry with which an European pursues his daily labor. Time is nothing to him, and whether a grass cloth takes one or two days’ labor is a matter of perfect indifference. He will not dream of setting to work without his pipe, and always has his friends about him, so that he may lighten the labors of the loom by social converse. Generally, a number of looms are set up under the projecting eaves of the houses, so that the weavers can talk as much as they like with each other.

The Apingi are celebrated as weavers, and are said to produce the best cloths in the country. These are held in such estimation that they are sold even on the coast, and are much used as mosquito curtains. The men generally wear a robe made of eight or nine squares. Barter, and not personal use, is the chief object in making these cloths, the Apingi thinking that their tattooing is quite enough clothing for all social purposes. Indeed, they openly say that the tattooing is their mode of dress, and that it is quite as reasonable as covering up the body and limbs with a number of absurd garments, which can have no object but to restrain the movements. Sometimes the Apingi wear a cloth over one shoulder, but this is used as a sign of wealth, and not intended as dress.

Like most tribes which live on the banks of rivers, the Apingi, who inhabit the district watered by the Rembo River, are clever boatmen, and excellent swimmers. The latter accomplishment is a necessity, as the canoes are generally very small and frail, flat-bottomed, and are easily capsized. They draw scarcely any water, this structure being needful on account of the powerful stream of the Rembo, which runs so swiftly that even these practised paddlers can scarcely make more than three or four miles an hour against the stream.

When M. du Chaillu was passing up the Rembo, he met with an accident that showed the strength of the current. An old woman was paddling her boat across the stream, but the light bark was swept down by the stream, and dashed against that of Du Chaillu, so that both upset. As for the old woman, who had a bunch of plantains in her boat, she thought of nothing but her fruit, and swam down the stream bawling out lustily, “Where are my plantains? Give me my plantains!” She soon captured her canoe, took it ashore, emptied out the water, and paddled off again, never ceasing her lamentations about her lost bunch of plantains.

There is a curious matrimonial law among the Apingi, which was accidentally discovered by M. du Chaillu. A young man, who had just married the handsomest woman in the country, showed all the marks of poverty, even his grass cloth dress being ragged and worn out. On being asked the reason of his shabby appearance, he pointed to his young wife, and said that she had quite ruined him. On further interrogation, it was shown that among the Apingi, if a man fell in love with the wife of a neighbor, and she reciprocated the affection, the lover might purchase her from the husband, who was bound to sell her for the same price that he originally paid for her. In the present instance, so large a sum had been paid for the acknowledged belle of the country that the lover had been obliged to part with all his property before he could secure her.

As is often the case in Africa, the slaves are treated very well by their masters. Should a slave be treated harshly, he can at any time escape by means of a curious and most humane law. He finds an opportunity of slipping away, and goes to another village, where he chooses for himself a new master. This is done by “beating bongo,” i. e. by laying the hands on the head and saying, “Father, I wish to serve you. I choose you for my master, and will never go back to my old master.” Such an offer may not be refused, neither can the fugitive slave be reclaimed, unless he should return to the village which he left.

The Apingi are very fond of palm wine, and, like other neighboring tribes, hang calabashes in the trees for the purpose of receiving the juice. Being also rather selfish, they mostly visit their palm trees in the early morning, empty the calabashes into a vessel, and then go off into the woods and drink the wine alone, lest some acquaintance should happen to see them, and ask for a share.

Hospitality is certainly one of the virtues of the Apingi tribe. When M. du Chaillu visited them, the chief Remandji presented him with food, the gift consisting of fowls, cassava, plantains, and a young slave. The latter article was given in accordance with the ordinary negro’s idea, that the white men are cannibals, and purchase black men for the purpose of eating them. “Kill him for your evening meal,” said the hospitable chief; “he is tender and fat, and you must be hungry.” And so deeply was the idea of cannibalism implanted in his mind, that nothing would make this really estimable gentleman comprehend that men could possibly be wanted as laborers, and not as articles of food.

However, a very fair meal (minus the slave) was prepared, and when it was served up, Remandji appeared, and tasted every dish that was placed before his guests. He even drank a little of the water as it was poured out, this custom being followed throughout the tribe, the wives tasting the food set before their husbands, and the men that which they offer to their guests. It is singular to see how ancient and universal is the office of “taster,” and how a custom which still survives in European courts as a piece of state ceremonial is in active operation among the savage tribes of Western Africa.

The religious, or rather the superstitious, system of the Apingi differs little from that which we have seen in other districts, and seems to consist chiefly in a belief in fetishes, and charms of various kinds. For example, when M. du Chaillu told Remandji that he would like to go on a leopard hunt, the chief sent for a sorcerer, or “ouganga,” who knew a charm which enabled him to kill any number of leopards without danger to himself. The wizard came, and went through his ceremonies, remarking that the white man might laugh as much as he please, but that on the next day he would see that his charm (monda) would bring a leopard.

On the following morning he started into the woods, and in the afternoon returned with a fine leopard which he had killed. He asked such an exorbitant price for the skin that the purchase was declined, and the skin was therefore put to its principal use, namely, making fetish belts for warriors. A strip of skin is cut from the head to the tail, and is then charmed by the ouganga, whose incantations are so powerful that neither bullet, arrow, nor spear, can wound the man who wears the belt. Of course such a belt commands a very high price, which accounts for the unwillingness of the sorcerer to part with the skin.

As is usual in many parts of the world, when twins are born, one of them is killed, as an idea prevails that, if both are allowed to live, the mother will die. Only one case was known where twins, boys seven years of age, were allowed to survive, and, as their mother did not die, she was respected as a very remarkable woman.

Seeing the treasures which their white visitor brought among them, the Apingi could not be disabused of the notion that he made, or rather created, them all himself, and that he was able, by his bare word, to make unlimited quantities of the same articles. One day a great consultation was held, and about thirty chiefs, with Remandji at their head, came and preferred the modest request that the white man would make a pile of beads as high as the tallest tree, and another of guns, powder, cloth, brass kettles, and copper rods. Nothing could persuade them that such a feat was impossible, and the refusal to perform the expected miracle was a severe disappointment to the Apingi chiefs, who had come from great distances, each bringing with him a large band of followers. There was even an Ashango chief, who had come from his own country, more than a hundred miles to the eastward, bringing with him a strong party of men to carry away his share of the goods.

This scene appears to have made a great impression on the natives, for when Remandji and his son died, an event which happened not long after Du Chaillu had left the country, the people firmly believed that the latter had killed him on account of his friendship for him, desiring that they should be companions in the spirit land, which they believed was the ordinary habitation of white men.

Their burial customs are rather curious, and not at all agreeable. The body is left in the house where the sick person has died, and is allowed to remain there as long as it can hold together. At last, the nearest relation of the deceased comes and carries off the body on his shoulders, bearing it to some convenient spot at a little distance from the village. No grave is dug, but the corpse is laid on the ground, some pieces of ivory or a few personal ornaments are laid by it, and the funeral ceremony is at an end.

CHAPTER XLVII.
THE BAKALAI.

DISTRICTS INHABITED BY THE BAKALAI — THEIR ROVING AND UNSETTLED HABITS — SKILL IN HUNTING — DIET AND MODE OF COOKING — A FISH BATTUE — CLEANLY HABITS OF THE BAKALAI — FORBIDDEN MEATS — CRUEL TREATMENT OF THE SICK, AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE BAKALAI — THEIR IDOLS — THE WOMEN AND THEIR RELIGIOUS RITES — AN INTRUSION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES — THE “KEEN” OVER A DEAD PERSON.

The large and important tribe of the Bakalai inhabit a considerable tract of country between the Equator and 2° S., and long. 10° to 13° E. The land in which they dwell is not tenanted by themselves alone, but they occupy so much space in it that it may fairly be called by their name. They have a peculiar faculty for colonization, and have extended their settlements in all directions, some being close to the western coast, and others far to the east of the Ashangos. Of course, their habits differ according to the kind of country in which they are placed, but in all situations they are bold and enterprising, and never fail to become masters of the district.

One clan or branch of this tribe, however, has abandoned these roving habits, and has settled permanently at a place called Obindji, after the chief of the clan. Being conveniently situated at the junction of the Onenga and Ofouboa rivers, Obindji has a commanding position for trade, and, having contracted an alliance with the great chief Quengueza, carries on a prosperous commerce, ebony being their special commodity. In concluding his alliance with them, Quengueza showed his wisdom by insisting upon their maintaining peace with all their neighbors, this indeed having been his policy throughout his life.

When Du Chaillu was passing along the Rembo River, Quengueza addressed the porters who carried the goods, and gave them excellent advice, which, if they would only have followed it, would have kept them clear of many subsequent quarrels and misfortunes. He advised them never to pick up bunches of plantain or nuts that might be lying on the road, because those were only placed as a bait. Also, if told to catch and kill goats or fowls, or to pluck fruit, they were to refuse, saying that it was the duty of the host to supply the food, and not to set his guests to fetch it for themselves. They were specially enjoined not to enter other houses but those allotted to them, not to sit on strange seats, and to keep clear of the women.

Obindji’s town showed clearly the character of the inhabitants. Bound to keep the peace by the treaty with Quengueza, they were still prepared against the incursions of inimical tribes. Usually, the houses are made of bamboo, but those of Obindji had regular walls, made of broad strips of bark lashed firmly to the bamboo uprights. When the house is made of bamboo alone, the inhabitants can be seen nearly as well as if they were birds in cages, and consequently the enemy can shoot at them between the bars. In Obindji, however, the houses were not only defended by the bark walls, but were further guarded by being separated into two rooms, the inner chamber being that in which the family sleep. So suspicious are they, that they never spread the couch on the same spot for two successive nights.

Their great ambition seems to be the possession of the rivers, by means of which they can traverse the country, make raids, or plant new settlements in any promising spot. Thus all along the great river Rembo are found districts inhabited by Bakalai, and each of the settlements is sure to be the parent of other colonies on either bank. Moreover, they are of strangely nomad habits, settling down for a time, and then suddenly breaking up their village, taking away what portable stores they can carry, abandoning the rest, and settling down like a flight of locusts in some fresh spot. The causes for this curious habit are several, but superstition is at the bottom of them all, as will be seen when we come to that branch of the subject.

The complexion of the Bakalai is dark, but not black, and, as a rule, they are of fair height and well made. They wear the usual grass cloth as long as they cannot procure American or European goods, but, whenever they can purchase a piece of cotton print, they will wear it as long as it will hang together. Of washing it they seem to have no conception, and to rags they have no objection. Neither do the Bakalai wash themselves. Those who live on the banks of the river swim like ducks, and, as their aquatic excursions often end in a capsize, they are perforce washed in the stream. But washing in the light of ablution is never performed by them, and those who live inland, and have no river, never know the feeling of water on their oily bodies.

On account of their migratory habits, they have but little personal property, concentrating all their wealth in the one article of wives. A Bakalai will go to hunt, an art in which he is very expert, and will sell the tusks, skins, and horns for European goods. As soon as he has procured this wealth, he sets off to buy a new wife with it, and is not very particular about her age, so that she be young. A girl is often married when quite a child, and in that case she lives with her parents until she has reached the marriageable age, which in that country is attained at a very early period.

In consequence of this arrangement, children are eagerly expected, and joyfully welcomed when they make their appearance. As a rule, African women are not prolific mothers, so that a wife who has several children is held in the highest estimation as the producer of valuable property, and carries things with a high hand over her husband and his other wives. The ideas of consanguinity are very curious among the Bakalai. A man will not marry a wife who belongs to the same village or clan as himself, and yet, if a man dies, his son takes his wives as a matter of course, and, if he has no son old enough to do so, they pass to his brother. Slaves also constitute part of a Bakalai’s property, and are kept, not so much for the purpose of doing their master’s work, which is little enough, but as live stock, to be sold to the regular slave-dealers whenever a convenient opportunity may occur.

The principal food of the Bakalai is the cassava or manioc, which is prepared so that it passes into the acid state of fermentation, and becomes a sour, but otherwise flavorless mess. The chief advantage of this mode of preparation is, that it will keep from six weeks or two months, and at the end of that time is no nastier than it was when comparatively fresh. They have also a singularly unpleasant article of diet called njavi oil. It is made from the seeds of the njavi, one of the large forest trees of the country, and is prepared by first boiling the seed, then crushing it on a board, and lastly squeezing out the oil in the hand. Much oil is wasted by this primitive process, and that which is obtained is very distasteful to European palates, the flavor resembling that of scorched lard. It is chiefly used in cooking vegetables, and is also employed for the hair, being mixed with an odoriferous powder, and plastered liberally on their woolly heads. It is principally with this oil that the skin is anointed, a process which is really needful for those who wear no clothing in such a climate. Palm oil is sometimes employed for the same purpose, but it is too dear to be in general use. Even the natives cannot endure a very long course of this manioc, and, when they have been condemned to eat nothing but vegetable food for several weeks, have a positive craving for meat, and will do anything to procure it.

This craving after animal food sometimes becomes almost a disease. It is known by the name of gouamba, and attacks both white and black men alike. Quengueza himself was occasionally subject to it, and was actually found weeping with the agony of gouamba, a proceeding which seems absurd and puerile to those who have never been subjected to the same affliction. Those who suffer from it become positive wild beasts at the sight of meat, which they devour with an eagerness that is horrible to witness. Even M. du Chaillu, with all his guns and other means of destroying game, occasionally suffered from gouamba, which he describes as “real and frightful torture.”

The Bakalai do not think of breeding their goats and chickens for food, their wandering habits precluding them from either agriculture or pastoral pursuits, and they are obliged, therefore, to look to fishing and hunting for a supply of animal food. The former of these pursuits is principally carried on during the dry season, when the waters of the river have receded, and pools have been left on the plains. To those pools the Bakalai proceed in numbers, men, women, and children taking part in the work. Each is furnished with a pot or bowl, with which they bail out the water until the fish are left struggling in the mud. The whole party then rush in, secure the fish, and take them home, when a large portion is consumed on the spot, but the greater quantity dried in the smoke and laid up for future stores. (See [illustration] p. 486.)

Savages as they are, the Bakalai are very cleanly in their cooking, as is mentioned by M. du Chaillu. “The Bakalai were cooking a meal before setting out on their travels. It is astonishing to see the neatness with which these savages prepare their food. I watched some women engaged in boiling plantains, which form the bread of all this region. One built a bright fire between two stones. The others peeled the plantains, then carefully washed them—just as a clean white cook would—and, cutting them in several pieces, put them in the earthen pot. This was then filled with water, covered over with leaves, over which were placed the banana peelings, and then the pot was put on the stones to boil. Meat they had not, but roasted a few ground-nuts instead; but the boiled plantains they ate with great quantities of Cayenne pepper.” From this last circumstance, it is evident that the Bakalai do not share in the superstitious notion about red pepper which has been lately mentioned.

With all this cleanliness in cooking, they are so fond of animal food that they will eat it when almost falling to pieces with decomposition. And, in spite of their love for it, there is scarcely any kind of meat which is not prohibited to one family or another, or at all events to some single individual. For example, when one of the party has shot a wild bull (Bos brachiceros), their principal chief or king refused to touch the flesh, saying that it was “roonda,” or prohibited to himself and his family, because, many generations back, a woman of his family had given birth to a calf. Another family was prohibited from eating the flesh of the crocodile, for similar reasons. So careful are the Bakalai on this subject that even their love for meat fails before their dread of the “roonda,” and a man will sooner die of starvation than eat the prohibited food. Of course, this state of things is singularly inconvenient. The kindred prohibitions of Judaism and Mahometanism are trying enough, especially to travellers, who cannot expect any great choice of food. But, as in the latter cases, the prohibited articles are invariably the same, there is little difficulty about the commissariat.

Among the Bakalai, however, if the traveller should happen to employ a party of twenty men, he may find that each man has some “roonda” which will not permit him to join his comrades at their repast. One man, for example, may not eat monkey’s flesh, while another is prohibited to eat pork, and a third is forbidden to touch the hippopotamus, or some other animal. So strict is the law of “roonda,” that a man will often refuse to eat anything that has been cooked in a kettle which may once have held the forbidden food.

This brings us naturally to other superstitions, in which the Bakalai seem to be either peculiarly rich, or to have betrayed more of their religious system than strangers can generally learn from savages. The usual amount of inconsistency is found in their religion, if we may dignify with such a name a mere string of incongruous superstitions. In the first place, there is nothing which they dread so much as death, which they believe to be the end of all life; and yet they have a nearly equal fear of ghosts and spirits, which they believe to haunt the woods after dark.

This fear of death is one of their principal inducements to shift their dwellings. If any one dies in a village, Death is thought to have taken possession of the place, and the inhabitants at once abandon it, and settle down in another spot. The prevalence of this idea is the cause of much cruelty toward the sick and infirm, who are remorselessly driven from the villages, lest they should die, and so bring death into the place.

M. du Chaillu gives a very forcible illustration of this practice. “I have twice seen old men thus driven out, nor could I persuade any one to give comfort and shelter to these friendless wretches. Once, an old man, poor and naked, lean as death himself, and barely able to walk, hobbled into a Bakalai village, where I was staying. Seeing me, the poor old fellow came to beg some tobacco—their most cherished solace. I asked him where he was going.

“‘I don’t know.’

“‘Where are you from?’

“He mentioned a village a few miles off.

“‘Have you no friends there?’

“‘None.’

“‘No son, no daughter, no brother, no sister?’

“‘None.’

“‘You are sick?’

“‘They drove me away for that.’

“‘What will you do?’

“‘Die!’

“A few women came up to him and gave him water and a little food, but the men saw death in his eyes. They drove him away. He went sadly, as though knowing and submitting to his fate. A few days after, his poor lean body was found in the wood. His troubles were ended.”

This is the “noble savage,” whose unsophisticated virtues have been so often lauded by those who have never seen him, much less lived with him.

The terror which is felt at the least suspicion of witchcraft often leads to bloody and cruel actions. Any one who dies a natural death, or is killed by violence, is thought to have been bewitched, and the first object of his friends is to find out the sorcerer. There was in a Bakalai village a little boy, ten years of age, who was accused of sorcery. The mere accusation of a crime which cannot be disproved is quite enough in this land, and the population of the village rushed on the poor little boy, and cut him to pieces with their knives. They were positively mad with rage, and did not cool down for several hours afterward.

The prevalence of this superstition was a sad trial to M. du Chaillu when he was seized with a fever. He well knew that his black friends would think that he had been bewitched, and, in case of his death, would be sure to pounce upon some unlucky wretch, and put him to a cruel death as a wizard. Indeed, while he was ill one of his men took up the idea of witchcraft, and at night paraded the village, threatening to kill the sorcerer who had bewitched his master.

Idolatry is carried on here, as in most heathen countries, by dancing, drumming, and singing, neither the songs nor dances being very decent in their character. One of the chief idols of the Bakalai was in the keeping of Mbango, the head of a clan. The image is made of wood, and represents a grotesque female figure, nearly of the size of life. Her eyes are copper, her feet are cloven like those of a deer, one cheek is yellow, the other red, and a necklace of leopard’s teeth hangs round her neck. She is a very powerful idol, speaks on great occasions, and now and then signifies approbation by nodding her head. Also she eats meat when it is offered to her, and, when she has exhibited any of those tokens of power, she is taken into the middle of the street, so that all the people may assemble and feast their eyes on the wooden divinity.

Besides the ordinary worship of the idol, the women have religious ceremonies of their own, which strangely remind the reader of the ancient mysteries related by sundry classic authors. To one of these ceremonies M. du Chaillu became a spectator in rather an unexpected manner.

“One day the women began their peculiar worship of Njambai, which it seems is their good spirit: and it is remarkable that all the Bakalai clans, and all the females of tribes I have met during my journeys, worship or venerate a spirit with this same name. Near the sea-shore it is pronounced Njembai, but it is evidently the same.

“This worship of the women is a kind of mystery, no men being admitted to the ceremonies, which are carried on in a house very carefully closed. This house was covered with dry palm and banana leaves, and had not even a door open to the street. To make all close, it was set against two other houses, and the entrance was through one of these. Quengueza and Mbango warned me not to go near this place, as not even they were permitted so much as to take a look. All the women of the village painted their faces and bodies, beat drums, marched about the town, and from time to time entered the idol house, where they danced all one night, and made a more outrageous noise than even the men had made before. They also presented several antelopes to the goddess, and on the fourth all but a few went off into the woods to sing to Njambai.

“I noticed that half-a-dozen remained, and in the course of the morning entered the Njambai house, where they stayed in great silence. Now my curiosity, which had been greatly excited to know what took place in this secret worship, finally overcame me. I determined to see. Walking several times up and down the street past the house to allay suspicion, I at last suddenly pushed aside some of the leaves, and stuck my head through the wall. For a moment I could distinguish nothing in the darkness. Then I beheld three perfectly naked old hags sitting on the clay floor, with an immense bundle of greegrees before them, which they seemed to be silently adoring.

“When they saw me they at once set up a hideous howl of rage, and rushed out to call their companions from the bush; in a few minutes these came hurrying in, crying and lamenting, rushing toward me with gestures of anger, and threatening me for my offence. I quickly reached my house, and, seizing my gun in one hand and a revolver in the other, told them I would shoot the first one that came inside my door. The house was surrounded by above three hundred infuriated women, every one shouting out curses at me, but the sight of my revolver kept them back. They adjourned presently for the Njambai house, and from there sent a deputation of the men, who were to inform me that I must pay for the palaver I had made.

“This I peremptorily refused to do, telling Quengueza and Mbango that I was there a stranger, and must be allowed to do as I pleased, as their rules were nothing to me, who was a white man and did not believe in their idols. In truth, if I had once paid for such a transgression as this, there would have been an end of all travelling for me, as I often broke through their absurd rules without knowing it, and my only course was to declare myself irresponsible.

“However, the women would not give up, but threatened vengeance, not only on me, but on all the men of the town; and, as I positively refused to pay anything, it was at last, to my great surprise, determined by Mbango and his male subjects that they would make up from their own possessions such a sacrifice as the women demanded of me. Accordingly Mbango contributed ten fathoms of native cloth, and the men came one by one and put their offerings on the ground; some plates, some knives, some mugs, some beads, some mats, and various other articles. Mbango came again, and asked if I too would not contribute something, but I refused. In fact, I dared not set such a precedent. So when all had given what they could, the whole amount was taken to the ireful women, to whom Mbango said that I was his and his men’s guest, and that they could not ask me to pay in such a matter, therefore they paid the demand themselves. With this the women were satisfied, and there the quarrel ended. Of course I could not make any further investigations into their mysteries. The Njambai feast lasts about two weeks. I could learn very little about the spirit which they call by this name. Their own ideas are quite vague. They know only that it protects the women against their male enemies, avenges their wrongs, and serves them in various ways if they please it.”

The superstitions concerning death even extend to those cases where a man has been killed by accident. On one occasion, a man had been shot while bathing, whereupon the whole tribe fell into a panic, thought that the village had been attacked by witches, and straightway abandoned it. On their passage to some more favored spot, they halted for the night at another village, and at sunset they all retired to their huts, and began the mournful chant with which they celebrate the loss of their friends. The women were loud in their lamentations, as they poured out a wailing song which is marvellously like the “keen” of the Irish peasantry:—

“You will never speak to us any more!

“We cannot see your face any more!

“You will never walk with us again!

“You will never again settle our palavers for us!”

And so on, ad libitum. In fact, the lives of the Bakalai, which might be so joyous and free of care, are quite embittered by the superstitious fears which assail them on every side.

CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE ASHIRA.

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.

(1.) ASHIRA FAREWELL.
(See [page 502].)

(2.) OLENDA’S SALUTATION TO AN ISHOGO CHIEF.
(See [page 498].)

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.

CHAPTER XLIX.
THE CAMMA, OR COMMI.

THE FERNAND VAZ, OR REMBO RIVER — KING QUENGUEZA AND HIS DOMINIONS — APPEARANCE OF THE CAMMA — CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE AS EXEMPLIFIED BY THEIR KING — THE “PALAVER” AND ITS DISCIPLINE — HONESTY OF THE CAMMA — THE COURSE OF JUSTICE AND LAW OF REPRISAL — CODE OF ETIQUETTE — CAMMA DIGNITY — DANCING AMONG THE CAMMA — THE GORILLA DANCE — SUPERSTITION, ITS USE AND ABUSE — QUENGUEZA’S TEMPLES — HIS PERILOUS WALK — GOOD AND EVIL SPIRITS — THE OVENGUA, OR VAMPIRE — THE TERRORS OF SUPERSTITION — INITIATION INTO THE SACRED MYSTERIES — EXORCISM — THE SELF-DECEIVER — THE GODDESS OF THE SLAVES — THE ORDEAL OF THE MBOUNDOU — A TERRIBLE SCENE — SICKNESS, DEATH, AND BURIAL — DISPOSITION OF THE DEAD — BREAKING UP OF MOURNING — THE WATER CUSTOM.

If the reader will look on the west coast of Africa, just below the Equator, he will see a large and important river called the Fernand Vaz. This river skirts the coast for some distance, and is very wide, but, when it turns eastward, it suddenly narrows its channel, and is known by the name of Rembo. The whole of the district through which the Rembo flows, as far as long. 10° E., is inhabited by the great Camma or Commi tribe, which is evidently another band of the same family that supplies all the tribes along the Rembo.

This tribe is broken up into a vast number of sub-tribes or clans, and each of these clans is ruled by a chief, who acknowledges himself to be a vassal of one great chief or king, named Quengueza. This man was fond of calling himself King of the Rembo, by which we must understand, not that he was king of all the tribes that inhabit its banks, but that he had authority over the river, and could prevent or encourage traffic as he chose. And, as the Rembo is the great highway into Central Africa, his position was necessarily a very important one.

Still, although he was not absolutely the king of these tribes, several of them acknowledged his superiority, and respected him, and respect, as is well said in “Eöthen,” implies the right of the respected person to take the property of those who respect him. Consequently Quengueza had a right—and exercised it—to the wife of any Bakalai or Ashira, and even the chiefs of those tribes thought themselves honored by placing their wives at the disposal of so eminent a personage. And he certainly claimed an authority over the river itself and its traffic. The Bakalai had submitted themselves to him for the sake of alliance with so powerful a chief, and found that he was by no means disposed to content himself with the mere name of sovereignty. On one occasion, when passing along the Rembo, he found that the Bakalai had quarrelled with a neighboring tribe, and had built a fence across the river, leaving only a small gap, which could easily be defended. On coming to this obstacle, Quengueza became very angry, called for axes, and in a minute or two the fence was demolished, and the passage of the river freed. The Bakalai stood on the banks in great numbers, and, although well armed, dared not interfere.

The mode of government which prevails through all these tribes may be called the patriarchal. Each tribe is divided into a number of sub-tribes or clans, each of which resides in a separate locality, that is usually called after the name of the chief or patriarch. This man is always reverenced, because he is sure to be old and rich, and age and wealth are greatly venerated in this part of the world. Their authority, however, is extremely limited, and they are rather the chief advisers of their clan than autocrats. There is no real monarchy, such as is found among the Kaffir tribes, although the most important chief is sometimes greeted with the title of king. The honor, however, is an empty one, as the other chiefs have no idea of submitting themselves to one whom they consider to be but primus inter pares.

The Camma are a fine race of people, and, like the Ashira, are not entirely black, but vary much in hue, some having a decided olive or chocolate tint of skin. Neither are their features those of the true negro, the face of the king Quengueza resembling that of a North American Indian rather than that of an African. The character of the Camma is well typified by that of their chief, Quengueza. He exhibited a singular mixture of nobility, meanness, kindness, cruelty, selfishness, and generosity, as is well shown by the visits of M. du Chaillu and Mr. W. Reade—the former thinking much more highly of him than the latter.

Like other savage chiefs, Quengueza could not bear his white visitors to leave him. He openly thwarted Mr. Reade, and it is evident from M. du Chaillu’s account that, while he was pretending to procure porters for the journey to the Bakalai, he was in reality throwing every obstacle in the way. The possession of a white man is far too valuable to a black chief to be surrendered in a hurry, and Quengueza knew his own interests too well to allow such profitable visitors to leave his land as long as he could detain them in it.

Once Mr. Reade had succeeded in slipping off, in spite of the king’s assertion that he would accompany his “dear friend” and his continual procrastination. He had paddled to some distance, when “suddenly my men stopped, and looked at each other with anxious faces. Lazily raising myself, I looked back, and could see at a great distance a large black spot, and something rising and falling like a streak of light in the sunshine. The men put their hands to their ears: I listened, and could hear now and then a faint note borne toward us on the wind.

“‘What’s that, Mafuk?’

“‘King, sir.’

“‘O, he is coming, is he?’ said I, laughing. ‘Well, he can easily catch us, now he is so near. Kabbi!’ (i. e. Paddle!)

“My stewards gave an uneasy smile, and did not answer me.

“The men dipped their paddles into the water, and that was all. Every man was listening with bent head, as if trying to detect the words, or the tune. I looked round again. I could see that it was a large canoe, manned by about twenty men, with a kind of thatched house in its stern. The song still continued, and could now be heard plainly. My men flung their paddles down, and began to talk to one another in an excited manner.

“‘What is the matter?’ said I, pettishly.

“The sweat was running down Mafuk’s forehead. He knew what he had to fear, if I did not.

“‘It is the war song!’

“On came the canoe, low and dark, black with men, the paddles tossing the white water in the air. On it came, shot swiftly past us, arched round, and came close alongside. Then arose a storm of angry voices, Quengueza’s raised above the rest.

“‘What does he say, Mafuk?’

“‘Says we must go back.’”

And go back they were forced to do, for just at that moment another war-boat came gliding along, and the whole party were taken prisoners, Quengueza embracing his “dear friend,” and being quite lively and jocular by reason of his success in recapturing him. Yet this man, superstitious as he was, and dreading above all things the small-pox, that scourge of savage nations, took into his own hut a favorite little slave, who had been seized with small-pox, laid the boy on a mat close to his own bed, and insisted on nursing him throughout the illness.

Afterward, when the small-pox had swept through the country, and almost desolated it, the sorrow of Quengueza was great and unfeigned. Wives, slaves, and relations had all been carried off by the dreaded plague; the town of Goumbi, where he lived, was deserted; and the poor old chief was obliged to collect the few survivors of his clan, and establish a new settlement on the opposite side of the river. His lamentations had all the sublimity of intense grief, and he sat chanting his monody over the dead, just as Catlin describes a North American chief when his tribe had perished by the same fearful disease.

No malady is so terrible to the savage as small-pox. Scarcely susceptible of bodily pain, enduring the most frightful wounds with quiet composure, and tenacious of life to an astonishing degree, he succumbs instantly to sickness; and an ailment which a white man resists and finally throws off, will in nine cases out of ten be fatal to the black one. Yet for himself Quengueza had no fears, and his sole lamentations were for his friends. “The Bakalai,” said he, “are all gone; the Rembo people are all gone; my beloved Monbou (his head slave) is gone; I am alone in the world.”

In spite of the many barbarous customs of the Camma tribes, they have a code of minutely regulated etiquette. If, for example, the king holds a council, he takes his seat on an elevated throne, and bears in his hand a wooden staff. When he has had his say, he passes the staff to the person who is to speak next, and he in turn to his successor. In such meetings the utmost order is preserved, and no one thinks of interrupting the speaker so long as he has possession of the staff.

It is not every one who has the right of speech in the council. This is a privilege extended to a very few men called Councillors, or Makagas, and only to them does the king hand the staff which gives the permission to speak. They are exceedingly jealous of this honor, and yet it has been conferred upon two white men, one being M. du Chaillu, and the other a Captain Lawlin of New York. The latter individual caused quite a revolution in his district, abolishing the many impediments to trade, indicting severe penalties on quarrelsome chiefs who made warlike aggressions on their neighbors, and establishing a strict code of criminal laws.

Some such arrangements as the possession of the orator’s staff is absolutely necessary for the due regulation of the innumerable “palavers,” or native parliaments, that are continually being held on all sorts of subjects. If one trader overreaches another, and can be detected in time, a palaver is held; and a similar ceremony is gone through if a trader pays for goods in advance and does not receive them. Runaway wives are the most fertile source of palavers, and, if the accused be proved guilty, the penalty is very severe. Generally the offending wife has her nose and ears cut off, and a similar punishment is inflicted on the man with whom she is found; but the latter has the privilege of commuting this sentence for a fine—generally a slave. Murder is a frequent cause of palavers, and it is a rather remarkable fact that the natives draw no distinction between accidental homicide and wilful murder. Death is not necessarily the punishment of homicide, but, as a rule, a heavy fine is substituted for the capital penalty.

If the culprit cannot be captured, the injured husband has a singular mode of procuring a palaver. He goes out and kills the first man he meets, proclaiming that he has done so because some one has run away with his wife. The course of justice then passes out of his hands. The relatives of the murdered man are now bound to take up the quarrel, which they do by killing, not the murderer, but some one of another village. His friends retaliate upon a third village, and so the feud passes from one village to another until the whole district is in arms. The gates are barricaded, no one dares to go out alone, or unarmed, and at last one unfortunate clan has a man murdered and can find no chance of retaliation. The chief of the clan then holds a palaver, and puts forward his claim against the man who ran away with the wife. The chief of the delinquent’s clan then pays a fine, the affair is settled, and peace is restored.

Too often, however, when a wife is, or appears to be, unfaithful, her husband is in collusion with her, for the purpose of extorting money out of some imprudent young man. She gets up a flirtation with the susceptible victim, and appoints a meeting at a spot where the husband has placed himself in concealment. As soon as the couple reach the appointed place, out comes the husband, and threatens a palaver if a fine be not paid at once. The young man knows well enough what the result of the palaver will be to him, and accordingly makes the best of the business and pays his fine. So completely established is this system, that even the most powerful chiefs have been known to purchase pretty wives for the express purpose of using them as traps wherewith to ensnare the young men.

As time is not of the least consequence to the Camma, and they are rather pleased than otherwise when they can find some sort of amusement, a palaver will sometimes expend a week upon a trivial cause. All these palavers are held in the simple buildings erected for the purpose. These edifices are little more than sheds, composed of a roof supported on poles, and open on all sides. The king sits in the middle on an elevated throne made of grass, and covered with leopard skins as emblems of his rank, while all the others are obliged either to stand or to sit on the ground.

When palavers are of no avail, and nothing but war can be the result of the quarrel, both parties try to frighten the enemy by the hideousness of their appearance. They are perfectly aware that they could not withstand a charge, and, knowing that the enemy is not more gifted with courage than themselves, try to inspire terror by their menacing aspect. They paint their faces white, this being the war color, and sometimes add bars and stripes of red paint. The white paint, or chalk, is prepared in their greegree or idol houses, and is thought to be a very powerful charm. They also hang fetishes of various kinds upon their bodies, and then set off in their canoes, yelling, shouting, flourishing their weapons, and trying to intimidate their adversaries, but taking very good care not to come within two hundred yards of the enemy’s boats.

The Camma seem to be a better principled people than the Ashira. When Du Chaillu was troubled with the strikes among his Ashira porters, his Camma men stood by him, and would not consent to his plan of sending them forward with part of the goods. They feared lest he should be poisoned among the Ashira, and insisted on leaving some of their party with their chief.

(1.) CAMMA DANCE.
(See [page 509].)

(2.) QUENGUEZA’S WALK.
(See [page 511].)

The reader may remember that the old chief Olenda was held in great respect by his people. Among the tribes of Equatorial Africa much reverence is paid to age, an old person being looked upon as nearly akin to the spirits into whose land he is soon to enter. Contrary to the usual custom of the South, the young never enter the presence of an old man or woman without bending low, and making a genuine school-girl courtesy. When they seat themselves, it is always at a respectful distance; and if they are asked for a pipe, or for water, they present it on one knee, addressing a man as “Father” and a woman as “Mother.” It is, moreover, contrary to etiquette for a young man to tell bad news to an old one. Even the dead bodies of the old are honored, and the bones and skulls are laid up in little temples made expressly for them. They are usually laid in chalk, which is therefore thought to possess sundry virtues, and with that chalk the relations of the dead man mark their bodies whenever they are about to engage in any important undertaking. The skull is also put to practical uses. If a trader comes to make purchases, the vender always entertains him hospitably, but has a definite purpose in so doing. Before he prepares the banquet, he goes to the fetish house, and scrapes a little powder from the skull. This he mixes with the food, and thus administers it to his guest. The spirit of the dead man is then supposed to enter into the body of the person who has eaten a portion of his skull, and to impress him to make good bargains with his host—in other words, to be cheated.

When a stranger first enters a Camma village, he is rather surprised at the number of boxes which he sees. The fact is, that among the Camma boxes are conventionally held to represent property, the neighbors giving them the credit of being filled with valuables. Consequently it is the ambition of every Camma man to collect as many chests as he can, leaving the chance of filling them to a future opportunity. When his white visitors gave Quengueza their presents, the old chief was quite as much struck with the number of boxes as with their contents, and expressed his gratitude accordingly.

The dances of the Camma have much in common with those of other tribes, but they have one or two peculiarities of their own. A fat old head-chief, or king, as their rulers are generally called—though, by the way, the term “patriarch” would be much more appropriate—gave a grand dinner in honor of his white visitor. Noise is one of the chief elements in a negro’s enjoyment, as it is in the case of a child. The negro, in fact, is the veriest child in many things, and always remains a child. On this occasion the “band” distinguished themselves by making a noise disproportionately loud for their numbers.

There was a row of drummers, each beating his noisy instrument with such energy that a constant succession of drummers took the instruments, the stoutest and strongest being worn out in less than an hour. There were also a number of boys beating with sticks upon hollow pieces of wood, and, as if the drummers and log-beaters did not make sufficient noise, the musicians had hung a row of brass kettles on poles, and were banging them with sticks as if they had been drums. Add to this the shouts and screams of the excited dancers, and the noise may be tolerably well appreciated. The artist has sketched this singular [dance] on the previous page.

Great quantities of palm wine were drunk, and the consequence was, that before very long the whole of the dancers and musicians, including the king himself, were in various stages of intoxication. As to the king, being rather more inebriated than his subjects, he must needs show his own skill in the dance, and therefore jumped and leaped about the ground with great agility for so heavy a man, while his wives bowed down to his feet as he danced, clapped their hands in time to the music, and treated him with the deepest veneration.

As to the dance itself, the less said about it the better. It is as immodest as the unrestrained savage temperament can make it, inflamed by strong drink and by the sound of the drum, which seems to excite the people almost to madness. The songs with which they accompany the dance are of a similar nature, and are worse than the worst specimens of heathen vice as narrated by the classic satirists.

There is, however, one dance in which the immodest element does not exist. It is called the Gorilla Dance, and is performed as a means of propitiating the deities before starting on a gorilla hunt: for this is part of the great gorilla country, in which alone is found that huge and powerful ape which has lately attracted so much attention. An account of a gorilla hunt will be given when we come to the Fan tribe, but at present we will content ourselves with the gorilla dance, as seen by Mr. W. Reade. He had made several unavailing attempts to kill a gorilla, and had begun to despair of success, although the place was a well-known haunt of these animals.

“One morning Etia, the chief hunter of the village, came and told me that he had heard the cry of a njina (i. e. gorilla) close to one of the neighboring plantations. He said that we should certainly be able to kill him next day, and that during the night he and his friends would celebrate the gorilla dance.

“This Etia was a Mchaga slave. His skin, to use Oshupia’s comparison, was like that of an old alligator—all horny and wrinkled; his left hand had been crippled by the teeth of a gorilla; his face was absurdly hideous, and yet reminded me of something which I had seen before. After puzzling myself for a long time, I at last remembered that it was the mask which Mr. Ryder wore in the character of Caliban at the Princess’ which Etia resembled so closely. That night I could have imagined him less man than monster.

“In the house allotted to the slaves three old men, their faces grotesquely chalked, played the drums, the sounding log, and the one-stringed harp. To them danced Etia, imitating the uncouth movements of the gorilla. Then the iron bell was rung, and Ombuiri, the evil spirit, was summoned to attend, and a hoarse rattle mingled with the other sounds. The dancers rushed yelling into the midst, and sprang into the air. Then would be a pause, broken only by the faint slow tinkling of the harp, then the drum would be beaten, and the sticks thundered on the log.

“In another dance Caliban assumed the various attitudes peculiar to the ape. Now he would be seated on the ground, his legs apart, his elbows resting on his knees, his head drooping, and in his face the vacant expression of the brute; sometimes he folded his hands on his forehead. Suddenly he would raise his head with prone ears and flaming eyes, while a loud shout of applause would prove how natural it was. In the chorus all the dancers assumed such postures as these, while Etia, climbing ape-like up the pole which supported the roof, towered above them all.

“In the third dance he imitated the gorilla attacked and being killed. The man, who played the hunter inimitably, acted terror and irresolution before he pulled the trigger of his imaginary gun. Caliban, as gorilla, charged upon all fours, and fell dead at the man’s feet, in the act of attempting to seize him with one hand.

“You may be sure that nothing short of seeing a gorilla in its wild state could have afforded me so much interest or given me so good a clue to the animal’s real habits. For here could be no imposture. It was not an entertainment arranged for my benefit, but a religious festival held on the eve of an enterprise.”

This dance brings us to the religion, or rather the superstition, of the Camma people. Superstition has its estimable, its grotesque, and its dark side, and there is scarcely any people among whom these three phases are more strongly marked.

The estimable side is, of course, the value of superstition as a substitute for true religion—a feeling of which the savage never has the least idea, and which it is almost impossible to make him comprehend. He often takes very kindly to his teacher, picks up with wonderful readiness the phrases which he hears, regulates his external life in accordance with the admonitions he has received; but it is very, very seldom indeed that any real conviction has touched his heart; and, as soon as the direct influence of his teacher is removed, he reverts to his old mode of life. Mr. Reade relates a rather striking example of this tendency. He met a negress on her way to church, accompanied by a beautiful little girl.

Addressing the child, he asked whether she was the woman’s daughter. The mother answered in the affirmative; and, in the same breath, offered to sell her. This was the original negro nature. Just then the bell stopped, and her education made itself apparent. “Hei-gh!” she cried, “you no hear bell stop? Me go now. After church we palaver, give me plenty dash (i. e. presents), den we drink rum, den you take him (i. e. the girl); palaver said.”

Superstition, therefore, takes the place of personal religion, and, in spite of the dread excesses into which it leads the savages, it does at all events keep before them the idea of a spiritual world, and impresses upon them the fact that there exist beings higher and greater than themselves. That their superstitions, debased and gross as they are, have yet the power of impressing the native mind with a feeling of veneration, is evident by the extreme unwillingness of these people to utter the name by which they designate the Great Spirit. Of course their idea of a God is very imperfect, but still it is sufficient to impress them with such awe that they can scarcely be induced to pronounce the sacred name. Only twice did Mr. Reade hear it. Once, when they were in a dangerous storm, the men threw up their arms, and ejaculated the holy name as if it were some great charm; and on another occasion, when a man was asked suddenly what was the native name for God, he pointed upward, and in a low voice uttered the word “Njambi.”

The ceremonies observed at the time of full moon have been several times mentioned in the course of the present work. Du Chaillu gives an account of one of these ceremonies as performed by the Camma, which is useful in showing the precise object of the ceremony.

One day Quengueza sent word that he was ill, and that the people must consult Ilogo, the spirit of the moon, and ask him whether he was bewitched, and how he was to be cured. Accordingly, just before the full moon, a crowd of women assembled in front of Quengueza’s house, accompanied by the drums and the usual noisy appurtenances of a negro festival. They formed themselves into a hollow circle, and sang songs in honor of Ilogo, clapping their hands in unison with the beating of the drums.

In the midst of the circle sat a woman steadfastly gazing at the moon, and waiting for inspiration. Two women tried this post unsuccessfully, but the third soon began to tremble, her limbs to work convulsively, then to stiffen, and at last she fell insensible to the ground. Then arose the chant to Ilogo with redoubled energy, the singers repeating the same words over and over again for about half an hour, until the prostrate form of the woman began to show signs of returning sensibility. On being questioned, she said that she had seen Ilogo, and that he had told her that the king was not bewitched, but that he could be healed by a remedy prepared from a certain plant. She looked utterly prostrated by the inspiration, and not only her hearers, but also herself, thoroughly believed in the truth of her strange statement.

It will be seen that Quengueza was nearly as superstitious as his subjects. He never stirred without his favorite fetish, which was an ugly little wooden image, embellished with a row of four sacred cowries stuck on its abdomen. These cowries are not indigenous to Western Africa, and seem to have been brought from the eastern coast of the continent. Whenever he ate or drank, the fetish always bore him company, and before eating he saluted it by passing the four sacred cowries over his lips. Before drinking he always poured a few drops over the feet of the image by way of a libation.

When travelling, he liked to have with him one of his medicine men, who could charm away rain by blowing with his magic horn. So sure was the doctor of his powers, that on one occasion he would not allow the party to repair a dilapidated hut in which they passed the night. As it happened, a violent shower of rain fell in the middle of the night, and drenched the whole party. The doctor, however, was not at all disconcerted, but said that if he had not blown the horn the rain would have been much heavier. Still his natural strength of mind sometimes asserted itself, and on one remarkable occasion, when the small-pox had destroyed so many people, and the survivors were crying out for vengeance against the sorcerers who had brought the disease upon them, Quengueza forbade any more slaughter. The small-pox, he said, was a wind sent from Njambi (pronounced N’yamyé), who had killed enough people already.

Like most native chiefs, Quengueza had a pet superstition of his own. At his own town of Goumbi (or Ngumbi, as it is sometimes spelt), there was a very convenient and dry path leading from the houses to the river. Quengueza, however, never would use this path, but always embarked or landed at an abominable mud bank, over which it was necessary to run as fast as possible, in order to avoid sinking in the river. The reason was, that when he came to the throne he had been told that an enemy had placed an evil spirit in the path, and that he would die if he went along it. So powerful was this spirit, that several unavailing attempts had been made to drive it away, and at last Quengueza was obliged to send for a renowned Bakalai wizard named Aquilai. This was the same man who was mentioned in [page 502] as the father of the boy who was tried by the ordeal of the hot ring.

“The people gathered in great numbers under the immense hangar or covered space in which I had been received, and there lit fires, round which they sat.... About ten o’clock, when it was pitch dark, the doctor commenced operations by singing some boasting songs recounting his power over witches. This was the signal for all the people to gather into their houses, and about their fires under the hangar. Next, all the fires were carefully extinguished, all the lights put out, and in about an hour more not a light of any kind was in the whole town except mine. I gave notice that white men were exempted from the rule made in such cases, and this was allowed. The most pitchy darkness and the most complete silence reigned everywhere. No voice could be heard, even in a whisper, among the several thousand people gathered in the gloom.

“At last the curious silence was broken by the doctor; who, standing in the centre of the town, began some loud babbling of which I could not make out the meaning. From time to time the people answered him in chorus. This went on for an hour; and was really one of the strangest scenes I ever took part in.... The hollow voice of the witch-doctor resounded curiously through the silence, and when the answer of many mingled voices came through the darkness, it really assumed the air of a serious, old-fashioned incantation scene.

“At last, just at midnight, I heard the doctor approach. He had bells girded about him, which he jingled as he walked. He went separately to every family in the town, and asked if the witch which obstructed the king’s highway belonged to them. Of course all answered ‘No.’ Then he began to run up and down the bewitched street, calling out loudly for the witch to go off. Presently he came back, and announced that he could no longer see the aniemba, and that doubtless she had gone never to come back. At this all the people rushed out and shouted, ‘Go away! go away! and never come back to hurt our king.’ Then fires were lit, and we all sat down to eat. This done, all the fires were again extinguished, and all the people sang wild songs until four o’clock. Then the fires were again lit. At sunrise the whole population gathered to accompany their king down the dreaded street to the water.

“Quengueza, I knew, was brave as a hunter and as a warrior. He was also intelligent in many things where his people were very stupid. But the poor old king was now horribly afraid. He was assured that the witch was gone, but he evidently thought himself walking to almost certain death. He would have refused to go if it had been possible. He hesitated, but at last determined to face his fate, and walked manfully down to the river and back amid the plaudits of his loyal subjects.” The artist has represented [this victory] over superstitious fear, on the 508th page.

Throughout the whole of this land are many of these prohibitory superstitions. When, for example, a woman is about to become a mother, both she and her husband are prohibited from seeing a gorilla, as all the natives firmly believe that, in such a case, the expected child would be a gorilla cub, and not a human baby. Drinking the water of the Rembo is also prohibited, because the bodies of those who are executed for witchcraft are chopped up and flung into it, and the natives imagine that, if they were to drink of the water, they would become sorcerers against their will. Yet, as if to show the inconsistency of superstition, there is a rite, which will be presently mentioned, in which tasting the water is the principal ceremony.

There is a certain island in the Rembo of which the natives have the greatest dread. It is thickly covered with trees, and the people fully believe that in the midst of this island there lives a huge crocodile covered with brass scales. This crocodile is an enchanter, and by his incantations every one who lands on the island either dies suddenly, or goes mad and wanders about until he dies. Du Chaillu of course did land, and traversed the island in different directions. The people were stupefied with astonishment; but even the fact of his safe return made no difference in their belief, because he was white, and the great enchanter had no power over white men.

As to the fetishes, they are innumerable. Weather fetishes are specially plentiful, but, unlike the charms of Southern Africa, they are used to keep off the rain, not to produce it. One fetish gave our traveller a vast amount of trouble. He had purchased, from a petty chief named Rabolo, a small deserted village, and had built a new house. The edifice was completed all but the veranda, when the builders refused to work any longer, as they had come upon a great health fetish that Rabolo had placed there when the village was first built. They flatly refused to touch it until Rabolo came, and, even after his permission had been gained, they were very nervous about the seeming desecration.

The fetish was a good example of such articles. Buried in the sands were two skulls, one of a man and another of a chimpanzee, this combination having a high reputation among the Camma. These were buried at the foot of the two posts that constituted the entrance to the village. Then came a quantity of crockery and broken glass, and then some more chimpanzee skulls, while a couple of wooden idols kept company with the component parts of the charm. A sacred creeper was also planted by the posts, which it had covered with its branches, and the natives believe that as long as the creeper survives, so long does the fetish retain its power. Rabolo was very proud of his health fetish, as no one had died in the village since it had been set up. But, as there had never been more than fifteen inhabitants, the low death-rate is easily accounted for.

From their own accounts, the Camma must have a very unpleasant country. It is overrun with spirits, but the evil far outnumber the good, and, according to the usual custom of ignorant nations, the Camma pay their chief reverence to the former, because they can do the most harm.

As specimens of these spirits, three will be mentioned. The first is a good spirit called Mbuiri, who traverses the country, and occasionally pays a visit to the villages. He has taken under his protection the town of Aniambia, which also has the privilege of being guarded by an evil spirit of equal power, so that the inhabitants enjoy a peace of mind not often to be found in the Camma country. There is only one drawback to the repose of the place, and that is the spirit of an insane woman, who made her habitation outside the village when she was alive, and continues to cultivate her plantation, though she is a spirit. She retains her dislike to human beings, and, if she can catch a man alone, she seizes him, and beats him to death.

The evil spirit which protects Aniambia is a very wicked and mischievous being named Abambou, who lives chiefly in burial-places, and makes his bed of skeletons. In order to propitiate Abambou, offerings are made to him daily, consisting entirely of food. Sometimes the Camma cook the food, and lay it in lonely places in the wood, where Abambou would be sure to find it; and sometimes they propitiate him by offerings of plantains, sugar-cane, and nuts. A prayer accompanies the offering, and is generally couched in the universal form of asking the protecting spirit to help the Camma and destroy inimical tribes. It is rather curious that, when a free man makes an offering to Abambou, he wraps it in leaves; but the slaves are obliged to lay it on the bare ground.

Fetish houses are appropriated to Mbuiri and Abambou, and are placed close to each other. They are little huts, about six feet high and six wide. No image is placed in the huts, but only a fire, which is always kept burning, and a chest, on the top of which are laid some sacred chalk and red parrot’s feathers.

A bed is usually prepared in Abambou’s house, on which he may repose when he is tired of walking up and down the country; and, as the medicine-man takes care that no one but himself shall open the door of the hut, the villagers pass by in awe-struck silence, none knowing whether at that moment the dreadful Abambou may not be sleeping within. Now and then he is addressed publicly, the gist of the speeches being that everybody is quite well and perfectly happy, and hopes that he will not hurt them.

The evil spirit, however, who is most feared by this tribe is the Ovengua or Vampire. It is most surprising to find the Hungarian and Servian superstition about the vampire existing among the savages of Western Africa, and yet it flourishes in all its details along the banks of the Rembo.

No worship is paid to the Ovengua, who is not thought to have any power over diseases, nor to exercise any influence upon the tenor of a man’s life. He is simply a destructive demon, capricious and cruel, murdering without reason, and wandering ceaselessly through the forests in search of victims. By day he hides in dark caverns, so that travellers need not fear him, but at night he comes out, takes a human form, and beats to death all whom he meets. Sometimes when an Ovengua comes across a body of armed men, they resist him, and kill the body in which he has taken up his residence.

When an Ovengua has been thus killed, the conquerors make a fire and burn the body, taking particular care that not a bone shall be left, as from the bones new Ovenguas are made. The natives have a curious idea that, if a person dies from witchcraft, the body decays until the bones are free from flesh. As soon as this is the case, they leave the grave one by one, form themselves end to end into a single line, and then gradually resolve themselves into a new Ovengua. Several places are especially dreaded as being favorite resorts of this horrible demon, and neither bribes, threats, nor persuasions, can induce a Camma to venture near them after nightfall. It is very probable that cunning and revengeful men may take advantage of the belief in the vampire, and, when they have conceived an antipathy against any one, may waylay and murder him treacherously, and then contrive to throw the blame on the Ovengua.

The prevalence of this superstition may perhaps account for much of the cruelty exercised upon those who are suspected of witchcraft, the fear of sorcery being so overwhelming as to overcome all feelings of humanity, and even to harden the heart of the parent against the child. The slightest appearance of disbelief in such an accusation would at once induce the terrified multitude to include both parties in the accusation, and the consequence is that, when any one is suspected of witchcraft, none are so loud and virulent in their execrations as those who ought to be the natural protectors of the accused.

Mr. C. Reade, in his “Savage Africa,” gives an example of the cruelty which is inspired by terror.

A petty chief had been ill for some time, and a woman had been convicted, by her own confession, of having bewitched him. It is true that the confession had been extorted by flogging, but this fact made no difference in the minds of the natives, who had also forced her to accuse her son, a boy only seven years old, of having been an accomplice in the crime. This was done lest he should grow up to manhood, and then avenge his mother’s death upon her murderers.

“On the ground in their midst crouched the child, the mark of a severe wound visible on his arm, and his wrists bound together by a piece of withy. I shall never forget that child’s face. It wore that expression of dogged endurance which is one of the traditional characteristics of the savage. While I was there, one of the men held an axe before his eyes—it was the brute’s idea of humor. The child looked at it without showing a spark of emotion. Some, equally fearless of death, would have displayed contempt, anger, or acted curiosity; but he was the perfect stoic. His eye flashed for a moment when his name was first mentioned, but only for a moment. He showed the same indifference when he heard his life being pleaded for, as when, a little while before, he had been taunted with his death.”

Both were killed. The mother was sent to sea in a canoe, killed with an axe, and then thrown overboard. The unfortunate boy was burnt alive, and bags of gunpowder were tied to his legs, which, according to the account of a spectator, “made him jump like a dog.” On being asked why so cruel a death had been inflicted on the poor boy, while the mother was subjected to the comparatively painless death by the axe, the man was quite astounded that any one should draw so subtle a distinction. Death was death in his opinion, however inflicted, and, as the writhing of the tortured child amused the spectators, he could not see why they should deprive themselves of the gratification.

“This explains well enough the cruelty of the negro: it is the cruelty of the boy who spins a cockchafer on a pin; it is the cruelty of ignorance. A twirling cockchafer and a boy who jumps like a dog are ludicrous sights to those who do not possess the sense of sympathy. How useless is it to address such people as these with the logic of reason, religion, and humanity! Such superstitions can only be quelled by laws as ruthless as themselves.”

Another curious example of this lack of feeling is given by the same author. Sometimes a son, who really loves his mother after his own fashion, thinks that she is getting very old, and becoming more infirm and unable to help him. So he kills her, under the idea that she will be more useful to him as a spirit than in bodily form, and, before dismissing her into the next world, charges her with messages to his friends and relatives who have died. The Camma do not think that when they die they are cut off, even from tangible communication with their friends. “The people who are dead,” said one of the men, “when they are tired of staying in the bush (i. e. the burying-ground), then they come for one of their people whom they like. And one ghost will say, ‘I am tired of staying in the bush; please to build a little house for me in the town close to your house.’ He tells the man to dance and sing too; so the men call plenty of women by night to dance and sing.”

In accordance with his request, the people build a miniature hut for the unquiet spirit, then go to the grave and make an idol. They then take the bamboo frame on which the body was carried into the bush, and which is always left on the spot, place on it some dust from the grave, and carry it into the hut, the door of which is closed by a white cloth.

Among the Camma, as with many savage tribes, there is a ceremony of initiation into certain mysteries, through which all have to pass before they can be acknowledged as men and women. These ceremonies are kept profoundly secret from the uninitiated, but Mr. Reade contrived to gain from one of his men some information on the subject.

On the introduction of a novice, he is taken in a fetish house, stripped, severely flogged, and then plastered with goat’s dung, the ceremony being accompanied by music. Then he is taken to a screen, from behind which issues a strange and uncouth sound, supposed to be produced by a spirit named Ukuk. There seems, however, to be a tacit understanding that the spirit is only supposed to be present in a vicarious sense, as the black informant not only said that the noise was made by the fetish man, but showed the instrument with which he produced it. It was a kind of whistle, made of hollowed mangrove wood, and closed at one end by a piece of bat’s wing.

During five days after initiation an apron is worn, made of dry palm leaves. These ceremonies are not restricted to certain times of the year, but seem to be held whenever a few candidates are ready for initiation. Mr. Reade had several times seen lads wearing the mystic apron, but had not known its signification until Mongilomba betrayed the secrets of the lodge. The same man also gave some information regarding the initiation of the females. He was, however, very reticent on the subject, partly, perhaps, because the women kept their secret close, and partly because he was afraid lest they might hear that he had acted the spy upon them, and avenge their insulted rites by mobbing and beating him.

Some of the ceremonies are not concealed very carefully, being performed in the open air. The music is taken in hand by elderly women, called Ngembi, who commence operations by going into the forest and clearing a space. They then return to the village, and build a sacred hut, into which no male is allowed to enter. The novice, or Igonji, is now led to the cleared space—which, by the way, must be a spot which she has never before visited—and there takes her place by a fire which is carefully watched by the presiding Ngembi, and never suffered to go out. For two days and nights a Ngembi sits beside the fire, feeding it with sticks, and continually chanting, “The fire will never die out.” On the third day the novice is rubbed with black, white, and red chalk, and is taken into the sacred hut, where certain unknown ceremonies are performed, the men surrounding it and beating drums, while the novice within continually responds to them by the cry, “Okanda! yo! yo! yo!” which, as Mr. Reade observes, reminds one of the “Evoe!” of the ancient Bacchantes.

The spirit Ukuk only comes to light on such occasions. At other times he lives deep below the surface of the earth in his dark cavern, which is imitated as well as may be by the sacred hut, that is thickly covered with leaves, so that not a ray of light may enter. When he enters the hut, he blows the magic whistle, and on hearing the sound all the initiated repair to the house. As these spirits are so much feared, it is natural that the natives should try to drive them out of every place where they have taken up an unwelcome residence.

With some spirits the favorite spot is the body of a man, who is thereby made ill, and who will die if the spirit be not driven out of him. Now the Camma believe that evil spirits cannot bear noise, especially the beating of drums, and so, at the call of the fetish man, they assemble round the sick man, beat drums and kettles close to his head, sing, dance, and shout with all their might. This hubbub goes on until either the patient dies, as might naturally be expected, or manages to recover in spite of the noise. The people who assist in the operation do so with the greatest vigor, for, by some strange coincidence, it happens that the very things which disgust an evil spirit, such as dancing, singing, drum-beating, and noise-making in general, are just the things which please them best, and so their duties and inclinations are happily found to coincide.

Sometimes the demon takes up his residence in a village, and then there is a vast to-do before he can be induced to go out. A fetish man is brought from a distance—the farther the better—and immediately set to work. His first business is to paint and adorn himself, which he does in such a manner as to look as demoniacal as possible. One of these men, named Damagondai, seen by Du Chaillu, had made himself a horrible object. The artist has pictured the [weird-looking creature] on the 517th page. His face was whitened with chalk, a red circle was drawn on each side of his mouth, a band of the same color surrounded each eye, and another ran from the forehead to the tip of the nose. A white band was drawn from the shoulders to the wrists, and one hand was completely whitened. On his head was a tall plume of black feathers; strips of leopard skin and a variety of charms were hung upon his body; and to his neck was suspended a little box, in which he kept a number of familiar spirits. A string of little bells encircled his waist.

This ghastly figure had seated himself on a stool before another box full of charms, and on the box stood a magic mirror. Had the magician been brought from the inland parts of the country, and away from the river along which all traffic runs, he could not have possessed such an article as a mirror, and would have used instead a bowl of water. By the mirror lay the sacred horn full of the fetish powder, accompanied by a rattle containing snake bones. His assistant stood near him, belaboring a board with two sticks.

After the incantations had been continued for some time, the wizard ordered that the names of all the inhabitants of the village should be called out, and as each name was shouted he looked in the mirror. However, he decided at last that the evil spirit did not live in any of the inhabitants, but had taken up his residence in the village, which he wanted for himself, and that he would be very angry if any one tried to share it with him.

Du Chaillu saw that this was a sly attack on him, as he had just built some comfortable houses in the village. Next morning the people began to evacuate the place. They carried off their property, and tore down the houses, and by nightfall not an inhabitant was left in the village except the white man and two of his attendants, both of whom were in great terror, and wanted to follow the others. Even the chief was obliged to go, and, with many apologies to his guest, built a new house outside the deserted village. Not wishing to give up the houses that had cost so much time and trouble, Du Chaillu tried to induce the natives to rebuild the huts; but not even tobacco could overcome their fear of the evil spirit. However, at last some of the bolder men tried the experiment, and by degrees a new village arose in the place of that which had been destroyed.

The same magician who conducted the above-mentioned ceremony was an unmitigated cheat, and seems to have succeeded in cheating himself as well as his countrymen. He was absurdly afraid of darkness, and as nightfall came on he always began to be frightened, wailing and execrating all sorcerers, witches, and evil spirits, lamenting because he knew that some one was trying to bewitch him, and at last working himself up to such a pitch of excitement that the inhabitants of the village had to turn out of their huts, and begin dancing and singing.

Perhaps this self-deception was involuntary, but Damagondai wilfully cheated the people for his own purposes. In his double capacity as chief and fetish man he had the charge of the village idols. He had a very potent idol of his own, with copper eyes and a sword-shaped protruding tongue. With the eyes she saw coming events, and with the tongue she foretold the future and cut to pieces the enemies of Damagondai’s people. M. du Chaillu wanted to purchase this idol, but her owner refused to sell her. He hinted, however, that for a good price the goddess of the slaves might be bought. Accordingly, a bargain was struck, the idol in question was removed from the hut, packed up, and carried away by the purchaser, while the slaves were away at their work. Damagondai was rather perplexed as to the answer which he would have to give the slaves when they came home and found their idol house empty, but at last he decided to tell them that he had seen the goddess leave her house, and walk away into the woods. The idol in question was an absurd-looking object, something like a compromise between one of the figures out of a “Noah’s Ark” and a Dutch wooden doll.

Various as are all these superstitions, there is one point at which they all converge, namely, the dread Mboundou ordeal, by which all who are accused of witchcraft are tested. The mboundou is a tree belonging to the same group as that from which strychnine is made, and is allied to the scarcely less celebrated “vine” from which the Macoushie Indians prepare the wourali poison. From the root of the mboundou a drink is prepared, which has an intoxicating as well as a poisonous quality, and which is used for two purposes, the one being as an ordeal, and the other as a means of divination.

The medicine men derive most of their importance from their capability of drinking the mboundou without injury to their health; and while in the intoxicated state they utter sentences more or less incoherent, which are taken as revelations from the particular spirit who is consulted. The mode of preparing the poisoned draught is as follows:—A given quantity of the root is scraped and put into a bowl, together with a pint of water. In a minute or so a slight fermentation takes place, and the water is filled with little bubbles, like those of champagne or other sparkling wines. When this has subsided, the water becomes of a pale reddish tint, and the preparation is complete. Its taste is very bitter.

The effects of the mboundou vary greatly in different individuals. There was a hardened old sorcerer, named Olanga, who was greatly respected among his people for his capability of drinking mboundou in large quantities, and without any permanent effect. It is very probable that he may have had some antidote, and prepared himself beforehand, or that his constitution was exceptionally strong, and that he could take with impunity a dose which would kill a weaker man. Olanga was constantly drinking mboundou, using it chiefly as a means of divination. If, for example, a man fell ill, his friends went off to Olanga, and asked him to drink mboundou and find out whether the man had been bewitched. The [illustration No. 2], on the next page, represents such a scene. As soon as he had drunk the poison, the men sat round him, beating the ground with their sticks, and crying out the formula—

“If he is a witch, let the mboundou kill him.

“If he is not, let the mboundou go out.”

In about five minutes symptoms of intoxication showed themselves. The old man began to stagger, his speech grew thick, his eyes became bloodshot, his limbs shook convulsively, and he began to talk incoherently. Now was the time to ask him questions, and accordingly several queries were propounded, some of which he answered: but he soon became too much intoxicated to understand, much less to answer, the questions that were put to him. Sleep then came on, and in less than half an hour Olanga began to recover.

With most persons, however, it has a different and a deadly effect, and M. du Chaillu mentions that he has seen persons fall dead within five minutes of drinking the mboundou, the blood gushing from the mouth, eyes, and nose.

It is very seldom that any one but a professional medicine man escapes with life after drinking mboundou. Mostly there is an absence of the peculiar symptoms which show that the poison is working itself out of the system, and in such a case the spectators hasten the work of death by their knives. Sometimes the drinkers rally from the effects of the poison, but with constitutions permanently injured; and in a few cases they escape altogether. Du Chaillu was a witness to such an event. Three young men, who were accused of witchcraft, were adjudged, as usual, to drink the mboundou. They drank it, and boldly stood their ground, surrounded by a yelling multitude, armed with axes, spears, and knives, ready to fall upon the unfortunate victims if they showed symptoms that the draught would be fatal. However, they succeeded in keeping their feet until the effects of the poison had passed off, and were accordingly pronounced innocent. According to custom, the medicine man who prepared the draught finished the ceremony by taking a bowl himself, and while in the stage of intoxication he gladdened the hearts of the people by saying that the wizards did not belong to their village, but came from a distance.

It is evident that those who prepare the mboundou can make the draught stronger or weaker, according to their own caprice, and indeed it is said that, when any one who is personally disliked has to drink the poison, it always proves fatal. The accused persons are not allowed to see that it is prepared fairly, but they are permitted to send two friends for that purpose.

A most terrible scene was once witnessed by Du Chaillu. A chief named Mpomo had died, and the people were in a state of frenzy about it. They could not believe that a young and strong man could be seized with illness and die unless he were bewitched, and accordingly a powerful doctor was brought from a distance, and set to work. For two days the doctor went through a number of ceremonies, like those which have been described at [page 515], for the purpose of driving out the evil spirits, and at last he announced that he was about to name the wizards. The rest must be told in the narrator’s own words:—

“At last, on the third morning, when the excitement of the people was at its height—when old and young, male and female, were frantic with the desire for revenge on the sorcerers—the doctor assembled them about him in the centre of the town, and began his final incantation, which should disclose the names of the murderous sorcerers.

“Every man and boy was armed,—some with spears, some with swords, some with guns and axes; and on every face was shown a determination to wreak bloody revenge on those who should be pointed out as the criminals. The whole town was wrapped in an indescribable fury and horrid thirst for human blood. For the first time, I found my voice without authority in Goumbi. I did not even get a hearing. What I said was passed by as though no one had spoken. As a last threat, when I saw proceedings begun, I said I would make Quengueza punish them for the murders they had done in his absence. But, alas! here they had outwitted me. On the day of Mpomos death they had sent secretly to Quengueza to ask if they could kill the witches. He, poor man—sick himself, and always afraid of the power of sorcerers, and without me to advise him—at once sent word back to kill them all without mercy. So they almost laughed in my face.

(1.) EJECTING A DEMON.
(See [page 515].)

(2.) OLANGA DRINKING MBOUNDOU.
(See [page 516].)

“Finding all my endeavors vain, and that the work of bloodshed was to be carried through to its dreadful end, I determined, at least, to see how all was conducted. At a motion from the doctor, the people became at once quite still. This sudden silence lasted about a minute, when the loud, harsh voice of the doctor was heard: ‘There is a very black woman, who lives in a house’—describing it fully, with its location—‘she bewitched Mpomo.’ Scarce had he ended when the crowd, roaring and screaming like so many hideous beasts, rushed frantically for the place indicated. They seized upon a poor girl named Okandaga, the sister of my good friend and guide Adouma. Waving their weapons over her head, they bore her away toward the water-side. Here she was quickly bound with cords, and then all rushed away to the doctor again.

“As poor Okandaga passed in the hands of her murderers, she saw me, though I thought I had concealed myself from view. I turned my head away, and prayed she might not see me. I could not help her. But presently I heard her cry out, ‘Chally, Chally, do not let me die!’

“It was a moment of terrible agony to me. For a minute I was minded to rush into the crowd, and attempt to rescue the poor victim. But it would have been of not the slightest use; the people were too frantic and crazed to even notice my presence. I should only have sacrificed my own life, without helping her. So I turned away into a corner behind a tree, and—I may confess, I trust—shed bitter tears at my utter powerlessness.

“Presently, silence again fell upon the crowd. Then the harsh voice of the devilish doctor again rang over the town. It seemed to me like the hoarse croak of some death-foretelling raven. ‘There is an old woman in a house’—describing it—‘she also bewitched Mpomo.’

“Again the crowd rushed off. This time they seized a niece of King Quengueza, a noble-hearted and rather majestic old woman. As they crowded about her with flaming eyes and threats of death, she rose proudly from the ground, looked them in the face unflinchingly, and, motioning them to keep their hands off, said, ‘I will drink the mboundou; but woe to my accusers if I do not die.’ Then she, too, was escorted to the river, but without being bound. She submitted to all without a tear, or a murmur for mercy.

“Again, a third time, the dreadful silence fell upon the town, and the doctor’s voice was heard: ‘There is a woman with six children. She lives on a plantation toward the rising sun. She too bewitched Mpomo.’ Again there was a furious shout, and in a few minutes they brought to the river one of Quengueza’s slave-women—a good and much-respected woman—whom also I knew.

“The doctor now approached with the crowd. In a loud voice he recited the crime of which these women were accused. The first taken, Okandaga, had—so he said—some weeks before asked Mpomo for some salt, he being her relative. Salt was scarce, and he had refused her. She had said unpleasant words to him then, and had by sorcery taken his life.

“Then Quengueza’s niece was accused. She was barren, and Mpomo had children. She envied him. Therefore she had bewitched him.

“Quengueza’s slave had asked Mpomo for a looking-glass. He had refused her. Therefore she had killed him with sorcery.

“As each accusation was recited the people broke out into curses. Even the relatives of the poor victims were obliged to join in this. Every one rivalled his neighbor in cursing, each fearful lest lukewarmness in the ceremony should expose him to a like fate.

“Next the victims were put into a large canoe, with the executioners, the doctor, and a number of other people all armed. Then the tam-tams were beaten, and the proper persons prepared the mboundou. Quabi, Mpomo’s eldest brother, held the poisoned cup. At sight of it poor Okandaga began again to cry, and even Quengueza’s niece turned pale in the face—for even the negro face has at such times a pallor, which is quite perceptible. Three other canoes now surrounded that in which the victims were. All were crowded with armed men. Then the mug of mboundou was handed to the old slave-woman, next to the royal niece, and last to Okandaga. As they drank, the multitude shouted: ‘If they are witches, let the mboundou kill them; if they are innocent, let the mboundou go out.’

“It was the most exciting scene of my life. Though horror almost froze my blood, my eyes were riveted upon the spectacle. A dead silence now occurred. Suddenly the slave fell down. She had not touched the boat’s bottom ere her head was hacked off by a dozen rude swords.

“Next came Quengueza’s niece. In an instant her head was off, and the blood was dyeing the waters of the river. Meantime poor Okandaga staggered, and struggled, and cried, vainly resisting the working of the poison in her system. Last of all she fell too, and in an instant her head was hewn off. Then all became confused. An almost random hacking ensued, and in an incredibly short space of time the bodies were cut in small pieces, which were cast into the river.

“When this was done, the crowd dispersed to their houses, and for the rest of the day the town was very silent. Some of these rude people felt that their number, in their already almost extinguished tribe, was becoming less, and the dread of death filled their hearts. In the evening poor Adouma came secretly to my house, to unburden his sorrowing heart to me. He, too, had been compelled to take part in the dreadful scene. He dared not even refrain from joining in the curses heaped upon his poor sister. He dared not mourn publicly for her who was considered so great a criminal.”

The ceremonies which attend the death of members of the Camma tribe are really remarkable. As soon as the end of a man is evidently near, his relations begin to mourn for him, and his head wife, throwing herself on the bed, and encircling the form of her dying husband with her arms, pours out her wailing lamentations, accompanied by the tears and cries of the villagers who assemble round the house. The other wives take their turns in leading the lamentations, and after his death they bewail him in the most pitiful fashion. These pitiful lamentations are partly owing to real sorrow, but there is no doubt that they are also due to the fear lest any one who did not join in the mourning might be accused of having bewitched her husband to death.

For several days they sit on the ground, covered with ashes, their heads shaved, and their clothing torn to rags; and when the body can no longer be kept in the place, the relatives take it to the cemetery, which is usually at some distance down the river. That, for example, of Goumbi was situated at nearly fifty miles from the place. No grave is dug, but the body is laid on the ground, and surrounded with different valuables which belonged to the dead man in his lifetime. The corpses of the chiefs or headmen are placed in rude boxes, but those of ordinary men are not defended in any way whatever.

For at least a year the mourning continues, and, if the dead man has held high rank, it is sometimes continued for two years, during which time the whole tribe wear their worst clothes, and make a point of being very dirty, while the widows retain the shaven head and ashes, and remain in perfect seclusion. At the end of the appointed time, a ceremony called Bola-ivoga is performed, by which the mourning is broken up and the people return to their usual dress.

One of these ceremonies was seen by Du Chaillu. The deceased had been a tolerably rich man, leaving seven wives, a house, a plantation, slaves, and other property, all which was inherited, according to custom, by his elder brother, on whom devolves the task of giving the feast. Great preparations were made for some days previously, large quantities of palm wine being brought to the village, several canoe loads of dried fish prepared, all the best clothes in the village made ready, and every drum, kettle, and anything that could make a noise when beaten being mustered.

On the joyful morning, the widows begin the ceremony by eating a magic porridge, composed by the medicine man, and are then released formally from their widowhood. They then throw off their torn and soiled garments, wash away the ashes with which their bodies had been so long covered, and robe themselves in their best clothes, covering their wrists and ankles with iron and copper jewelry.

While they are adorning their persons, the rest of the people arrange themselves in little groups in front of the houses, and to each group is given an enormous jar of palm wine. At a given signal the drinking begins, and is continued without interruption for some twenty-four hours, during which time dancing, singing, and drum-beating are carried on with furious energy. Next morning comes the final ceremony. A large crowd of men, armed with axes, surround the house formerly occupied by the deceased, and, at a signal from the heir, they rush at once at it, and in a few minutes nothing is left but a heap of fragments. These are heaped up and burned; and when the flames die away, the ceremony is over, and the heir is considered as having entered into possession of the property.

There are one or two miscellaneous customs of the Camma people which are deserving of a brief notice. They seem to be rather quarrelsome among themselves, and when they get into a fight use a most formidable club. This weapon is made of heavy and hard wood, and is nearly seven feet long. The thick end is deeply notched, and a blow from the “tongo,” as it is called, would smash the skull of an European. The native African, however, sustains heavy blows without being much the worse for it; and, although every tongo will be covered with blood and woolly hair, the combatants do not seem to have sustained much injury.

As they fight, they heap on their adversaries every insulting epithet they can think of: “Your chief has the leg of an elephant,” cries one; “Ho! his eldest brother has the neck of a wild ox,” shouts a second; “Ho! you have no food in your village,” bawls a third; and, according to the narrator, the words really seem to do more damage than the blows.

When a canoe starts on a long journey, a curious ceremony is enacted. Each man dips his paddle in the water, slaps it on the surface, raises in the air, and allows one drop of the water to fall into his mouth. After a good deal of singing, shouting, and antic-playing, they settle down to their work, and paddle on steadily for hours. When a chief parts from a guest, he takes his friend’s hands within his own, blows into them, and solemnly invokes the spirits of his ancestors, calling on them to take care of the departing guest.

CHAPTER L.
THE SHEKIANI AND MPONGWÉ.

LOCALITY OF THE SHEKIANI — MODE OF GOVERNMENT — SKILL IN HUNTING — SHEKIANI ARCHITECTURE — MEDICAL TREATMENT — NATIVE SORCERERS — FATE OF THE WIZARD — A VICTIM TO SUPERSTITION — TREATMENT OF THE POSSESSED — LOCALITY OF THE MPONGWÉ — NATIVE FASHIONS — MPONGWÉ MOURNING — SKILL IN LANGUAGES — THE SUCCESSFUL TRADER AND HIS RELATIONS — DEATH OF THE MONARCH AND ELECTION OF A NEW KING — A MPONGWÉ CORONATION — OLD KING GLASS AND HIS CHARACTER — HIS SICKNESS, DEATH, BURIAL, AND SUCCESSOR.

Scattered over a considerable track of country between the Muni and Gaboon rivers, on the western coast of Africa, are numerous villages of the Shekiani or Chekiani tribe. The Shekiani are divided into numerous sub-tribes, which speak a common language, but call themselves by various names, such as the Mbondemo, the Mbousha, the Mbicho, &c. Each of these lesser tribes is again subdivided into clans or families, each of which has its own head.

The mode of government is very simple, and indeed scarcely deserves the name; for although the chiefs of the different tribes are often called kings, their titles are but empty honors, and their authority is but partially recognized even by the headmen of the clans. The kings, indeed, are scarcely distinguishable from their so called subjects, their houses being the same, and their mode of living but little superior. Still, they are respected as advisers; and, in cases of difficulty, a few words from one of these kings will often settle a dispute which threatens to be dangerous.

Owing to their proximity to the coast, the Shekiani are great traders, and, in consequence of their contact with the white man, present a most curious mixture of savageness and civilization, the latter being modified in various droll ways. Take, for example, the Shekiani mode of managing fire-arms. When they go to hunt the elephant for the sake of its tusks, they always arm themselves with trade guns, for which they pay seven shillings and sixpence. The quality of these weapons may be easily imagined, and it is really wonderful how the Birmingham manufacturer contrives to furnish for so small a sum a gun that deserves the name.

Of course it is made to suit native ideas, and consequently it is very large and very heavy, a negro contemptuously rejecting a small and light gun which might be worth thirty or forty pounds. Then the mainspring of the lock is of prodigious strength, and the hammer and pan of proportionate size. Inferior, of course, as is the material, the weapon is really a wonderful article; and, if properly handled, is capable of doing good service. But a negro never handles anything carefully. When he cocks his musket, he wrenches back the hammer with a jerk that would break a delicate lock; when he wants to carry home the game that he has killed, he hangs it to the muzzle of the piece, and so slings it over his shoulder, and, as he travels, he allows it to bang against the trees, without the least care for the straightness of the barrel.

But it is in loading the weapon that he most distinguishes himself. First he pours down the barrel a quantity of powder at random, and rams upon it a tuft of dry grass. Upon the grass come some bullets or bits of iron, and then more grass. Then come more powder, grass, and iron as before; and not until then does the negro flatter himself that he has loaded his musket. That a gun should burst after such a method of loading is not surprising, and indeed it is a wonder that it can be fired at all without flying to pieces. But the negro insists on having a big gun, with plenty of powder and shot, and he cares nothing for a weapon unless it goes off with a report like a small cannon, and has a recoil that almost dislocates the shoulder.

The Shekiani are of moderate size, not very dark-colored, and in character are apt to be quarrelsome, passionate, revengeful, and utterly careless of inflicting death or pain. Owing to their unsettled habits, they are but poor agriculturists, leaving all the culture of the ground to the women. Their mode of making a plantation is very simple. When they have fixed upon a suitable spot, they begin to clear it after a very primitive fashion. The men ascend the trees to some ten or twelve feet of height, just where the stem narrows, supporting themselves by a flexible vine branch twisted hoop-fashion round the tree and their waist. They then chop away at the timber, and slip nimbly to the ground just as the upper part of the tree is falling. The trunks and branches are then gathered together until the dry season is just over, when the whole mass is lighted, and on the ground thus cleared of trees and brushwood the women plant their manioc, plantains, and maize.

Their villages are built on one model. The houses are about twelve or fifteen feet in length by eight or ten wide, and are set end to end in a double row, so as to form a long street. The houses have no windows, and only one door, which opens into the street. At night the open ends of the street are barricaded, and it will be seen that each village thus becomes a fortress almost impregnable to the assaults of native warriors. In order to add to the strength of their position, they make their villages on the crests of hills, and contrive, if possible, to build them in the midst of thorn brakes, so that, if they were attacked, the enemy would be exposed to their missiles while engaged in forcing their way through the thorns. When such a natural defence cannot be obtained, they content themselves with blocking up the approaches with cut thorn branches.

The houses are made of the so called bamboo poles, which are stuck in the ground, and lashed to each other with vine ropes. The interior is divided at least into two apartments, one of which is the eating and the other the sleeping chamber. Each Shekiani wife has a separate apartment, with its own door, so that the number of wives may be known by the number of doors opening out of the sitting-room. Although their houses are made with some care, the Shekiani are continually deserting their villages on some absurd pretext, usually of a superstitious character, and, during their travels toward another site, they make temporary encampments in the woods, their rude huts being composed of four sticks planted in the ground, tied together at the top, and then covered with leaves.

It has been mentioned that the Shekiani are careless about inflicting torture. One day M. du Chaillu was staying with one of the so-called Shekiani “kings,” named Njambai; he heard terrible shrieks, and was coolly told that the king was only punishing one of his wives. He ran to the spot, and there found a woman tied by her waist to a stout stake, and her feet to smaller stakes. Cords were tied round her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles, and were being slowly twisted with sticks, cutting into the flesh, and inflicting the most horrible torture. The king was rather sulky at being interrupted in his amusement, but, when his guest threatened instant departure unless the woman were released, he made a present of the victim to her intercessor. The cords had been so tightly knotted and twisted that they could not be untied, and, when they were cut, were found to have been forced deeply into the flesh.

The same traveller gives an account of the cruel manner in which the Shekiani treated an unfortunate man who had been accused of witchcraft. He was an old man belonging to the Mbousha sub-tribe, and was supposed to have bewitched a man who had lately died.

“I heard one day, by accident, that a man had been apprehended on a charge of causing the death of one of the chief men of the village. I went to Dayoko, and asked him about it. He said yes, the man was to be killed; that he was a notorious wizard, and had done much harm. So I begged to see this terrible being. I was taken to a rough hut, within which sat an old, old man, with wool white as snow, wrinkled face, bowed form, and shrunken limbs. His hands were tied behind him, and his feet were placed in a rude kind of stocks. This was the great wizard. Several lazy negroes stood guard over him, and from time to time insulted him with opprobrious epithets and blows, to which the poor old wretch submitted in silence. He was evidently in his dotage.

“I asked him if he had no friends, no relations, no son, or daughter, or wife to take care of him. He said sadly, ‘No one.’

“Now here was the secret of his persecution. They were tired of taking care of the helpless old man, who had lived too long, and a charge of witchcraft by the gree-gree man was a convenient pretext for putting him out of the way. I saw at once that it would be vain to strive to save him. I went, however, to Dayoko, and argued the case with him. I tried to explain the absurdity of charging a harmless old man with supernatural powers; told him that God did not permit witches to exist; and finally made an offer to buy the old wretch, offering to give some pounds of tobacco, one or two coats, and some looking glasses for him—goods which would have bought me an able-bodied slave.

“Dayoko replied that for his part he would be glad to save him, but that the people must decide; that they were much excited against him; but that he would, to please me, try to save his life. During all the night following I heard singing all over the town, and a great uproar. Evidently they were preparing themselves for the murder. Even these savages cannot kill in cold blood, but work themselves into a frenzy of excitement first, and then rush off to do the bloody deed.

“Early in the morning the people gathered together, with the fetish man—the infernal rascal who was at the bottom of the murder—in their midst. His bloodshot eyes glared in savage excitement as he went around from man to man, getting the votes to decide whether the old man should die. In his hands he held a bundle of herbs, with which he sprinkled three times those to whom he spoke. Meantime a man was stationed on the top of a high tree, whence he shouted from time to time in a loud voice, ‘Jocoo! Jocoo!’ at the same time shaking the tree violently. ‘Jocoo’ is devil among the Mbousha, and the business of this man was to drive away the evil spirit, and to give notice to the fetish man of his approach.

“At last the sad vote was taken. It was declared that the old man was a most malignant wizard; that he had already killed a number of people; that he was minded to kill many more; and that he must die. No one would tell me how he was to be killed, and they proposed to defer the execution till my departure, which I was, to tell the truth, rather glad of. The whole scene had considerably agitated me, and I was willing to be spared the end. Tired, and sick at heart, I lay down on my bed about noon to rest, and compose my spirits a little. After a while, I saw a man pass my window almost like a flash, and after him a horde of silent but infuriated men. They ran toward the river. In a little while, I heard a couple of sharp, piercing cries, as of a man in great agony, and then all was still as death.

“I got up, guessing the rascals had killed the poor old man, and, turning my steps toward the river, was met by a crowd returning, every man armed with axe, knife, cutlass, or spear, and these weapons, and their own hands and arms and bodies, all sprinkled with the blood of their victim. In their frenzy they had tied the poor wizard to a log near the river bank, and then deliberately hacked him into many pieces. See the [illustration] on the 526th page. They finished by splitting open his skull, and scattering the brains in the water. Then they returned; and, to see their behavior, it would have seemed as though the country had just been delivered from a great curse. By night the men—whose faces for two days had filled me with loathing and horror, so bloodthirsty and malignant were they—were again as mild as lambs, and as cheerful as though they had never heard of a witch tragedy.”

Once, when shooting in the forest, Du Chaillu came upon a sight which filled him with horror. It was the body of a young woman, with good and pleasant features, tied to a tree and left there. The whole body and limbs were covered with gashes, into which the torturers had rubbed red pepper, thus killing the poor creature with sheer agony.

Among other degrading superstitions, the Shekiani believe that men and women can be changed into certain animals. One man, for example, was said to have been suddenly transformed into a large gorilla as he was walking in the village. The enchanted animal haunted the neighborhood ever afterward, and did great mischief, killing the men, and carrying off the women into the forest. The people often hunted it, but never could manage to catch it. This story is a very popular one, and is found in all parts of the country wherever the gorilla lives.

The Shekiani have another odd belief regarding the transformation of human beings into animals. Seven days after a child is born, the girls of the neighborhood assemble in the house, and keep up singing and dancing all night. They fancy that on the seventh day the woman who waited on the mother would be possessed of an evil spirit, which would change her into an owl, and cause her to suck the blood of the child. Bad spirits, however, cannot endure the sight or sound of human merriment, and so the girls obligingly get up a dance, and baffle the spirit at the same time that they gratify themselves. As in a large village a good many children are born, the girls contrive to insure plenty of dances in the course of the year.

Sometimes an evil spirit takes possession of a man, and is so strong that it cannot be driven away by the usual singing and dancing, the struggles between the exorcisers and the demon being so fierce as to cause the possessed man to fall on the ground, to foam at the mouth, and to writhe about in such powerful convulsions that no one can hold him. In fact, all the symptoms are those which the more prosaic white man attributes to epilepsy.

Such a case offers a good opportunity to the medicine man, who comes to the relief of the patient, attended by his assistant. A hut is built in the middle of the street, and inhabited by the doctor and patient. For a week or ten days high festival is held, and night and day the dance and song are kept up within the hut, not unaccompanied with strong drink. Every one thinks it a point of honor to aid in the demolition of the witch, and, accordingly, every one who can eat gorges himself until he can eat no more; every one who has a drum brings it and beats it, and those who have no musical instruments can at all events shout and sing until they are hoarse. Sometimes the natural result of such a proceeding occurs, the unfortunate patient being fairly driven out of his senses by the ceaseless and deafening uproar, and darting into the forest a confirmed maniac.

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