PART III
| I. | —Labour—Supply and Demand. |
| II. | —Land and its Relation to Labour. |
| III. | —Portuguese Slavery. |
| IV. | —The Future of Belgian Congo. |
I
LABOUR—SUPPLY AND DEMAND
Everywhere in West Africa the cry goes up, “Give us more labour.” The British, German, Portuguese and French merchants all declare that if only they could get the labour, they might put a different face on the whole of the problems of production in West Africa. The principal reason for this shortage is unquestionably the fact that West Africa is sparsely populated, but this one fact does not, by any means, explain the situation. In Liberia alone does there appear to be any appreciable quantity of surplus labour, and upon its resources considerable demands are made by other colonies. This surplus obviously arises from the fact that Liberia is completely undeveloped, but if in the near future some energetic power should take charge of that territory, a period would certainly be put to indiscriminate recruiting amongst the native tribes.
It is true that in some territories in West Africa there is an increase in the population, but taking the whole areas into review, the labour force has seriously decreased within recent years. Statistics, though at present little more than estimates, go to prove that in several colonies this falling off is becoming a grave question. Recently the religious denominations in Lagos have been holding “intercessions” with reference to the high rate of mortality. If this intercession should lead the natives from faith to works, we may still hope to see the abandonment of those European customs which are doing untold harm to the physique of the native women and children.
The causes of decrease in the population, generally speaking, are beyond human ken and one can only express opinions which someone else will promptly contradict. For example, almost every traveller wrecks his reputation on that old-time rock of controversy—polygamy. Sir Harry Johnston mentions in one of his books the case of a polygamist with 700 children, but the greatest polygamist I have ever met in Africa possessed 1000 wives, yet he had no children! Argument based upon two such instances, however, is profoundly unsatisfactory, because with so large a company of wives in one case, and children in the other, it is obvious that many other considerations repose beneath the surface. There is one outstanding fact which everyone knows, but few speak about except in whispers; human nature is pretty positive in West Africa, no matter of what hue the skin, and scientists may argue until eternity upon the relative effects of polygamy and monogamy on the birth rate, but all their deductions are wide of the mark whilst they have so little actual monogamy anywhere in West Africa.
SLEEPING SICKNESS AND LABOUR
Sleeping sickness has made the most terrible ravages wherever it has established a firm hold on the tribes, but this scourge would seem to be spending its force. Seven years ago Uganda recorded over 8000 deaths from sleeping sickness within twelve months, and the latest Government report shows that there has been a gradual reduction until in the year 1910 there were only 1546. Happily this encouraging feature is present on the West Coast also. The Congo suffered more than any other colony, due, probably to a large extent, to the systematic oppression under which the population groaned during the Leopoldian régime. Now, however, the absence of the scourge in many of the old districts is quite noticeable. Villages that we knew to be swept by this plague ten years ago are once more flourishing, and in some cases where the birth rate was almost nil the villages are again joyous with the laughter of little children.
The worst sleeping sickness areas remaining in West Africa appeared to me to be the Bangalla region of the Congo and the Portuguese island of Principe. In the latter it has reached such proportions that the whites are leaving the island. The Portuguese still keep a considerable number of slaves on the cocoa farms, all of them either infected or exposed to the disease. As one passes from roça to roça, these slaves, stricken with disease, with emaciated bodies and gaunt features, stare piteously at the passer-by from eyes that seem to stand out from their heads, mutely appealing for the freedom of their distant village homes on the mainland. Looking at the matter from the materialistic standpoint of labour-supply, but makes this ruinous conduct on the part of the Portuguese appear doubly reprehensible.
“Civilization,” too, has contributed to a decrease in the working population, but in a varying degree. All the Powers have sinned in this respect. I never read of punitive expeditions with “many natives killed” without inwardly fuming at the folly of the administration which should know how precious from an economic standpoint alone, is the life of every single native. Yet in some places the tribes are hustled, tormented and even butchered in a manner little realized as yet by the European public. Think of the loss of life by violent death in both Belgian and French Congo, and in German West Africa! Think of the countless thousands of bleaching bones scattered over the highways through Portuguese Angola!
Within the last twenty-five years well over 60,000 slaves have been shipped to San Thomé alone; add to this the thousands sold and still in slavery on the mainland, and you probably have a total of over 100,000 slaves passing into the possession of the whites in Portuguese West Africa. That stream of human merchandize involved a wastage of another 100,000 lives, for a Portuguese slave-trader once admitted that if he got half his total gang to the coast, he was lucky, but that generally he could not deliver more than three out of ten!
It is a haunting thought that since the “85” scramble for Africa, the civilized Powers who rearranged the map of the African continent, ostensibly in the interests and for the well-being of the natives, have passively allowed the premature destruction of not less than ten millions of people. Now these Powers complain bitterly that they are short of labour and jump at any expedient which presents itself to obtain labour for their hustling developments.
COCOA FARM, BELGIAN CONGO.
The sins of King Leopold are visiting themselves upon his successors in every part of the Congo basin. The prospective gold mines, the cocoa farms, the public departments, all of them are handicapped owing to lack of an adequate labour force. If only the Belgians could restore to life an odd million of the able-bodied men and women done to death under the régime of their late sovereign, what a different outlook their colony would possess!
The Belgians now propose bringing Chinese for the Katanga Mines, but seeing that their former experience of Chinese coolies was not a happy one, and considering other drawbacks, I very much doubt whether they will ultimately launch the experiment of bringing thousands of Chinese across Africa. The original idea of the Belgian Government was that of bringing the coolies into the Congo under a regulation which would secure their repatriation at the termination of the contracts, coupling that regulation with others similar to those adopted by Great Britain in South Africa. Mr. R. C. Hawkin,[8] whose knowledge of South African politics is not only wide, but intimate, at once pointed out that the Belgian Administration was restricted by the Berlin and Brussels Acts. This opened up a situation so obviously awkward that nothing more has been heard about the introduction of Chinese labour into the Congo, at least for the present.
WHAT GERMANY LACKS
Germany, like Belgium, differs from France and England in that she has no other colonies from which to draw a labour force. Quite recently her colonists, at their wit’s end for labour, passed a resolution agreeing to import 1000 Indian coolies for labour in the mines. It had not occurred to them that the British India Office might object. How much trouble, to say nothing of expense, they would have saved themselves if only they had asked the office-boy in Downing Street!—they need have gone no higher.
This is another instance of the strange features which now and again attend German colonization, good as well as bad. Their authorities had apparently entirely forgotten the regrettable Wilhelmsthal affair, but probably the real reason was that this incident (which many Englishmen will not readily forget) was regarded by them as altogether too trivial to be noticed. This unfortunate affair—though in some respects comparatively unimportant, yet in reality a grave matter—certainly merits a permanent record in some form, because it is just one of those blundering incidents which bring in their train a whole crop of labour difficulties.
AN ANGLO-GERMAN INCIDENT
A German Railway Construction Company had been allowed to recruit British Kaffir subjects from South Africa. In the autumn of 1910 trouble arose because deductions were made from the labourers’ wages, and they further complained of bad food and housing. The Railway authorities seem to have then embittered the situation by refusing to allow the men food and water. This conduct in a tropical country was little, if at all, short of inhuman, and the labourers naturally struck work and apparently assumed a somewhat threatening attitude. The situation was then handled in a style characteristically German. The Company itself, ignoring the civil authorities, called in the troops, who shot seven of these British subjects in cold blood and wounded several others. How one-sided the whole affair was is demonstrated by the fact that not a single German soldier was even injured. This incident, from every point of view an outrage, was regarded as so trivial that no one appears to have been punished, nor so far as we know has any compensation been paid to the wounded or to the relatives of the murdered Kaffirs.
German colonial knowledge of British public opinion cannot be of a very far-reaching nature when it ignores this incident in asking for British labour to develop its colonies. To Englishmen it cannot be a matter of surprise that the India Office has not yet granted permission to recruit labour from the Indian Empire.
Germany and Belgium are the only two Powers in West Africa which do not possess colonies in other parts of the world from which to recruit labour, hence they are dependent upon other Powers. To the proud German Empire, this situation is irritating, while Great Britain, France, and also Portugal, to a limited extent, can each of them augment the labour force of any given colony by recruiting from their other colonial possessions.
The Portuguese colonies of Angola, San Thomé and Principe, which comprise the major portion of Portuguese West Africa, experience the greatest difficulty in obtaining labour. It is perfectly true that during the last half-century, close on a hundred thousand labourers have left the shores of Angola for the cocoa islands and other places, but these it must be remembered were almost exclusively slaves which had been bought or captured in the remoter regions of Angola, Rhodesia, Barotseland, and, more especially, the Congo Free State. The Portuguese colonists of Angola are so pressed for labour that they started some years ago an “anti-slavery” movement against the Portuguese planters of the islands. No doubt there was an honest element in this movement, but it is equally beyond question that the mainspring of the movement was local anxiety to keep all the slaves in the Angola colony, which is to this moment rotten with slavery. If Angola, a territory more than twice the size of France, were properly developed, it would require first of all a complete abolition of slavery, and then an immense augmentation of the labour supply. When we were at Lobito, the Robert Williams Railway Company and the Electrical Syndicate between them were at their wit’s end for two thousand more men, but these could not be obtained.
The two colonies of San Thomé and Principe are by far the most serious problem. The area of the two islands is not large—only 400 square miles together—but they are extraordinarily fertile; the very air seems to intoxicate with abounding fertility; everything flourishes, cocoa, sisal and rubber; everything multiplies and replenishes on the earth, but man; for some reason there appears to be a curse upon those islands, they are almost without an indigenous population and the wretched slaves imported to fill the ranks die off like flies. The future of the Portuguese cocoa colonies is doubtful because it is obvious that they cannot be run permanently by a temporary solution of the labour question.
THE BRITISH DEMAND
Both France and England at present manage their labour difficulties with greater ease than any of the other Powers, and this because both have a floating supply in their colonies, which, owing to the high standard of colonial development as expressed in railways and steamers, motors and good roads, is readily transferred to the more needy districts. At the same time every now and then we hear laments that expansion is rendered impossible owing to the lack of men.
When Lord Sanderson’s Commission took up the study of contract coolie labour, the areas appealing for labour included the Gold Coast colony, and the Government Secretary of the mines, Mr. Cogill, put in a plea that the colony should be allowed to recruit labour for its mines from India. In this plea he was supported by Sir John Rodger and the Acting-Governor, Major Bryan. This application is not easy to understand, for everyone knows, or should know, that Indian labour generally is unsuited to mining work. There is, however, some reason to believe that the inspiration of this plea came from sources requiring indentured labour from other parts of the world, and that the demand for Indian coolie labour was put forth in the hope of establishing necessity and thereby paving the way for a less acceptable demand.
The bulk of labour in West Africa is employed under indenture or contract, the majority of the latter being for three years, but a great deal of unskilled labour is employed on a yearly, or in some colonies—particularly the Portuguese—a five years’ contract. The latter are paper contracts, and in practice may mean anything or nothing at all. Very few unskilled labourers in Africa are prepared to accept willingly a single contract of longer duration than one or at the most two years, and if a contract system exists whereby labourers are bound for longer periods at a single service, it may be generally assumed that some form of pressure or intrigue has been at work.
Now that public attention is being focussed upon labour conditions, it becomes increasingly imperative that Governments should lay down the broad lines upon which they are prepared to allow contract labour. Nor must the labourer only be considered, the employer has the right to be heard in framing such conditions. In spite of much evidence to the contrary, I am still inclined to the belief that, as a class, the employers of labour everywhere in Africa detest as much as anyone labour conditions which are unfair. Even the Portuguese planters of San Thomé hate the slavery they practice, but by a long series of blunders they have been led into their present position.
The greatest care requires to be exercised if contract labour is to be kept free from the taint of slavery. The Indian authorities, in spite of every precaution, frequently find that the most reprehensible practices attach to the recruitment of labour for the East and West Indies. In the African continent, where domestic slavery is so widely prevalent, the need for watchfulness is a hundredfold greater.
RECRUITING
The conditions which govern the immigration of indentured labour should differ but little from those which cover local contracts, with the one exception that local labour contracts should always be of short duration—never longer than a year. Contracts for over-sea labour must be longer to cover the cost of transport, but even these are seldom satisfactory to either employer or employee for a period longer than three years. The Jamaican and Fiji indenture, which in practice involves a contract of ten years, is for many reasons highly objectionable.
The chief danger is beyond question with the recruiters. In India these men according to Mr. Broun,—an Indian Civil servant of large experience—“are the worst kind of men they could possibly have. They are generally very low class men.” They seem to bribe, deceive and bully by turns, anything indeed to bring the Indian coolie into their toils. In Portuguese West Africa the recruiter has for years been a slave-trader pure and simple, purchasing slaves from the Congo rebels, and also from the chiefs in the Rhodesian borderland. The Portuguese Government has now issued a regulation that all such recruiters must be duly licensed. In Belgian, German and French colonies, recruiting is undertaken very largely by Government officials.
Recruiting—whether by the irresponsible recruiter, the licensed agent, or by the Government official—calls for the closest attention of the Administration. The official will demand from a chief, the unofficial recruiter will bribe him for a given number of labourers; in the former case the chief fears to refuse, in the latter he becomes a party to a form of slavery.
The German official carries this operation through with the least amount of sentiment. I asked a planter in the Cameroons whether he obtained all the labour he wanted with a fair amount of ease. He looked at me in astonishment, and replied, “With ease, of course. I only notify the Government that I want labour and they bring it to me!” On another occasion, when I was discussing Portuguese administration with a French cotton planter from the Cunene, he began roundly abusing the Portuguese Government, and upon my inquiring wherein they differed from the German administration across the river, he replied, “The Germans stand no nonsense over labour. If the native villages are small and distant from the planters, they just burn down the villages and drive the natives nearer the planters. The Government can then quite easily make a list of the able-bodied men and supply them as they are required.” How far this may be a general characteristic of German treatment of native races, I cannot say, but what I have seen of German colonial methods does not impress me that their occupation is far removed from a sort of military despotism. In the matter of official recruitment of labour, the Germans are by far the most vigorous of any of the West African Powers. In this official recruitment the individual labourer concerned has very little say indeed; that he should desire to enjoy his freedom is apparently no concern of anyone, all he knows is that he has to work for the white man for a given period, and in German South West Africa the “contract” must be made “as long as possible.”
DOMESTIC SLAVERY
The hardships of contract labour are greatly increased by the prevalence of domestic slavery. We are sometimes told that domestic slavery is inseparable from native social life, and that from time immemorial it has been an integral part of African law and custom. For that matter so has cannibalism! There are many apologists for domestic slavery, including students of such eminence as Mr. R. E. Dennett and the Editor of the African Mail; the latter considers it would be foolish to abolish the House Rule Ordinance—or in other words the legalization of domestic slavery in Southern Nigeria. It is difficult to understand how a man with Mr. Dennett’s experience could possibly write the paper on this question which was reprinted in a journal of the Royal Colonial Institute. Mr. Dennett knows, or should know, that the horrors of early history in the middle Congo, the blood-curdling stories of Kumasi, the present-day slavery of the Portuguese colonies and a thousand other labour scandals rested and still rest in the ultimate resort upon domestic slavery. The cheap sneers at the sentimentalist, the innuendo that they are mere stay-at-home critics is entirely misplaced and no one knows this better than Mr. R. E. Dennett.
Domestic slavery is slavery pure and simple, although I agree that under the African chiefs it may not be so bad as under the old planter systems. Front rank statesmen with large administrative experience have recorded the lamentable results attaching to domestic slavery, and so recently as 1906 Africa’s greatest constructive Administrator—the Earl of Cromer—penned the following significant passage:—
“If the utility of the Soudan, considered on its own productive and economic merits, is not already proved to the satisfaction of the world—if it is not already clear that the reoccupation of the country has inflicted, more perhaps than any other event of modern times, a deadly blow to the abominable traffic in slaves, and to the institution of domestic slavery, which is only one degree less hateful than that traffic—it may confidently be asserted that we are on the threshold of convincing proof.”[9]
The broad lines of domestic slavery are common throughout West Central Africa. The slave becomes the property of the head of the house or chief, who can “contract” him to third parties without reference to the one primarily concerned, that is to say the slave himself, who in turn cannot hire out his labour without the consent of his master, and he may also be transferred in payment of debt. Upon the death of the owner, the slaves with their families—who are the property of the chief—are divided amongst the heirs with other goods and chattels of the deceased. The domestic slave can by native law everywhere, and by European law in some parts, be recaptured if he runs away. According to British law the slave becomes the property of the master in Southern Nigeria “by birth or in any other manner.” This only legalizes native law, it is true, but “in any other manner” throws the door widely open to a transfer of human beings in a way highly repugnant to British sentiment.
A REVOLTING CUSTOM
In the middle Congo a system is rapidly extending which violates every moral code in that it is none other than a wholesale prostitution. Under this custom, known locally as that of the “Basamba,” a man hires out a proportion of his wives on a monthly or yearly agreement. The basis is the principle of absolute ownership; a weekly or a monthly “hire” in cash, or its equivalent, is paid, and all the offspring handed over to the husband and owner. Thus the owner, or husband, obtains first a financial return for the hire of his surplus wives, and secondly he claims the offspring. In the event of males, they become domestic slaves, with which the chief may satisfy administrative and other demands for labour; while in the case of girls the chief possesses a further source of revenue either by hiring them out to “temporary husbands,” or by purchasing other and older women for the same purpose. This method of increasing the number of wives and slaves is by no means limited to the middle Congo, but in no other part of West Africa were we able to find it carried on so extensively. In those regions it is quite common to find men with ten wives hired out in the different villages, and a few cases exist of men who now carry on their trade with no less than fifty, and even one hundred, such surplus wives!
A CONGO CHIEF WITH SOME OF HIS WIVES AND “BASAMBA” CONCUBINES.
There are other means of obtaining domestic slaves. Many of them are, of course, “inherited,” and not a few are passed over as part dowry with a wife; others are taken for debt and some are captured in tribal warfare.
The relation between contract labour and domestic slavery is more intimate than appears on the surface. In West African practice an employer desiring a given number of labourers invites or “calls” the chief whom he informs of his requirements; if a merchant, he generally accompanies his request for boys with a gift; if a Government official, the demand more often than not is accompanied by a threat. At a later date the chief returns with the required number of labourers. If asked whether they are willing to work, they generally assent, for they fear to oppose their chief who, even if European prestige were not behind him, still possesses all the power of native law and customs—to say nothing of the awe-inspiring fetish.
Admittedly, however, normal domestic slavery in Africa is widely removed from predial slavery with which our school books made us familiar. Eliminating from domestic slavery the sacrifices for which slaves were always, and in some places are still, reserved; eliminating also European demands for labour, the system is not everything that is bad, nor are the chiefs invariably cruel and despotic towards their slaves. It is nevertheless equally true that the frequency of “palavers” which deal with escaping slaves is an evidence that the yoke of slavery is often intolerable, and that in spite of native law, in spite of European law and practice, and still more in spite of the fetish, the slaves attempt, and sometimes make good their escape.
SLAVE CAPTURE
Over large areas in the British colony of Southern Nigeria the police can, and do, recapture and restore such slaves to their owners, and two years ago it came as a shock to many that an escaping slave seeking refuge on the deck of a British Government ship could be forcibly recaptured and restored to his master; not only so, but he was actually flogged by British police for running away! It is, however, not altogether an easy matter to secure recapture of runaway slaves under British law, and therefore to the charge of “running away” is sometimes added larceny—the theft of a canoe or a cloth; the canoe, of course, being the boat by which the wretched slave made good his escape, and the cloth that which he uses to cover his nakedness. The following is a fair specimen of the warrants issued for the recapture of slaves in Southern Nigeria:—
COPY.
| No. | 1881 |
| 74 |
Warrant To Arrest Accused.
Form 2.
In the Native Council of Warri, Southern Nigeria. To..............................Officer of Court.
Whereas Joe of Lagos is accused of the offence of (1) running away from the Head of his House two years ago; (2) Larceny of cloth value 16s., two handkerchiefs, and a canoe. You are hereby commanded to arrest the said Joe of Lagos and to bring him before this Court to answer the said charge.
Issued at Warri, the 28th day of November, 1910.
(Signed): PERCY GORDON,
Senior Member of Court.
The British Government alone amongst the Powers in West Africa really dislikes this system and shows some inclination to secure its abolition. The Portuguese like it, and in the main descend to the level of it, manipulating the system to suit, so far as possible, their labour requirements. The Belgians cannot recognize it without violating the Berlin and Brussels Acts, so they leave it alone to bring forth a whole crop of abuses.
A HUNTER’S “LUCKY” FETISH.
The Lieutenant-Governor of French Guinea has recently taken a strong line upon the question of domestic slavery, which other Governments might emulate. He has issued instructions to all his subordinate officials in which he says:—
“We cannot allow the system of captivity to continue any longer; it is a matter of duty as well as of dignity to put an end to the present situation.... You are to profit by every occasion which offers for making the captives understand that it is immoral for one man to possess another.... Whenever you or your colleagues make a journey you are to gather the natives together and explain to them our wish.... In all cases which are brought before you, you are resolutely to refuse to examine those which relate to master and slave; make them understand that for us there are no slaves, and that in justice and law we only admit the relations of employer and employee. You are to follow up with the utmost rigour all crimes committed against human liberty, and to employ all the severity of the laws against barbarous masters or slave-traders who are still too numerous on the frontiers of neighbouring colonies.... Every captive who appeals to your authority is to be welcomed by you and protected against every abuse of force. You will disregard every stipulation which in civil contracts, wills, etc., would postulate the condition of family captivity.... There are no longer any captives in Guinea—such is the formula which must rule your conduct.”
If transfer to French Congo is a promotion, the quicker the French Government promotes this enlightened official to that sphere, the better for French reputation in that unhappy region.
FORCED LABOUR
In Africa forced labour, like contract labour, rests very largely upon domestic slavery. What is generally understood by forced labour is indistinguishable from the corvée of Germany, or from that which obtained in earlier times in Prussia and France. It is simply a communal undertaking upon works of general welfare, mainly roads from town to town, although the word corvée was also applied to all feudal demands, but in those cases some wages were given in return for the labour.
The old African communities exacted, and in many cases still exact, labour from their domestic and agricultural slaves for which they were and are paid, according to the whim or the benevolence of the chief. This labour was, and is, devoted to the clearing of paths, keeping bridges in repair, gathering harvests, porterage, canoeing, boat-building, and indeed any undertaking which involves a considerable labour force. These exactions, however, are always made at a time which avoids interference with agricultural necessities; moreover, in the nature of the case, the labour was never used very far from the village.
European administrations have stepped into West Africa, and have taken the place of the chiefs, and in so doing have adopted corvée under the plea of works of public utility—a blessed phrase which covers a multitude of questionable “necessities.”
In the Gambia every able-bodied male is compelled under the penalty of a fine, or six months’ imprisonment, to give labour for the construction of roads, bridges, wells and clearings round the villages in his own district. They must also provide carriers when required. Apparently the Governor is the only arbiter of the time to be given to such works and whether or not any remuneration may be made. In Southern Nigeria the Governor may call up all able-bodied males between 15 and 50, and all able-bodied women between 15 and 40, to give labour upon road-making and creek-clearing for a period of six days each quarter. Refusal to obey involves a fine of £1 or imprisonment not exceeding one month. Similar regulations prevail in Northern Nigeria.
In German Togoland the natives must give twelve days a year, or commute this by paying six marks; but the labour can only be used upon roads and bridges in the district in which the labourers reside. Almost identical regulations prevail in the French and Portuguese Congo. These regulations—qua regulations—are unobjectionable and, after all, only assume powers exercised for generations by the chiefs. In practice, however, under the term works of “public utility,” frequent and irregular demands are constantly being made to the irritation of the people. Think of what a single punitive expedition involves—no matter on how small a scale. Modern weapons of warfare, ammunition, tent kits, provisions and the thousand and one odds and ends of the modern paraphernalia of war, all this is carried in the main by forced labour. I shall doubtless be reminded that the chiefs always exacted labour for war. That I admit, but “civilized warfare” is so infinitely more elaborate than the simple native spear and arrow warfare, that they are not to be put in the same category.
Carriers too are demanded in numbers and for distances which violate every native restriction. It is but two years ago that a British official in Southern Nigeria decided to start off upon a journey on Sunday morning, and because the carriers did not come quickly enough, he marched into the two nearest churches and seized the congregations, including the native minister, and to demonstrate further his petty authority and repugnance of loftier ideals, insisted on this native clergyman carrying a box containing his whisky. At this distance it is the ludicrous which probably strikes the imagination, but it is an entirely different matter locally. The missionaries of Southern Nigeria, no matter what their denomination, are of a very devout and noble-minded order; they have instilled into the minds of the natives a deep reverence of all things pertaining to worship, and nothing will ever efface from the native mind that—to say the least—irreverent conduct of the representative of the Christian Government of Great Britain.
It is difficult sometimes to discriminate between contract labour, forced labour and slavery, the boundary lines having been obliterated by vigorous administrations demanding labour for this and that work of public utility, which in reality bear little relation to an enterprise for the general welfare. In Belgian Congo this is carried further than in any other West African colony. The Belgians insist that there is no forced labour in the Congo, and this is perfectly true from the legal point of view, but nevertheless almost the whole administrative machinery and Government undertakings are maintained by forced labour. To roads and bridges Belgium has added telegraphs, mines, plantations, and recruitment for the army; the ranks of both—labourers and soldiers—being filled almost entirely by forced labour.
BELGIAN FORCED LABOUR
Loud were the complaints made to us in our recent journeys through the Congo of the incessant demands for labour by the Administration.
Wearied with a day of struggle through Congo forests and swamp, I was resting one moonlight evening in the centre of a primitive Congo village; a group of native chiefs were sitting round me discussing political conditions. The absence of a certain token led me to question one individual somewhat pointedly as to the cause.
“If I tell you, white man, you won’t betray me?”
“Your chief knows me well enough for that,” I replied.
“Well, there were eight of us,” he explained, “called by Bula Matadi. We were bound to go, bound to leave our wives and our children and go down river several days by steamer. When we arrived, the head white official gave us a ‘book’ (contract) for three years, and sent us to cut a road for the ‘Nsinga’ (telegraph wire). We worked for some days, discussing every night how we could escape. One afternoon the white man went into the forest and four of us who were working together ran down to the river where we found an old canoe and one paddle hidden in the grass. We crowded in and pushed off, one guiding the canoe with the single paddle, whilst the others paddled with their hands. We managed to get into a creek hiding ourselves until the next night, when, with the help of some stout sticks for paddles, we began the long journey home, paddling in the night and hiding ourselves and our canoe during the day. We lived on roots and nuts for eight days, and then, when hiding in the forest, we heard some women talking we ‘frightened’ them and they fled, leaving their baskets behind. These contained palm nuts, on which we lived for another six days. On the fifteenth day we reached home again, but our people did not at first recognize us.”
“Why?”
“Because, white man,” chimed in the old chiefs, “they were so emaciated that the flesh had shrunk from their cheek-bones, their ribs stood out like skeletons, and they could barely speak.”
Such is Belgian forced “Contract Labour” in the Congo.
What are the boundary lines between legitimate forced labour and that which public opinion, as trustee for native rights, should refuse to tolerate?
The broad line of division is unquestionably between genuine works of public utility on the one hand, and profit-bearing works on the other.
Road-making, bridge-building, creek-clearing, are all of them works from which the whole community benefits, but the requisition of this labour should not be left to the arbitrary will of a temporary official, but subject to clearly-defined regulations. Any legislation upon forced labour for works undertaken for the public good should only permit the requisition, in lieu of taxation, as is the case in German Togoland, where the native has the alternative of paying a head tax of six marks per annum or giving his labour for twelve days, subject to the labour being required for the improvement of his own district.
As in Ceylon and other British colonies, the natives should be allowed to commute the labour by a money payment. To labour exacted under these rigid conditions, there can assuredly be no strong objection, and, generally speaking, the native tribes would loyally co-operate in such proposals.
FORCED LABOUR AND PROFITS
To employ forced labour upon any kind of work which carries with it a financial advantage partakes of slavery. A merchant obtaining forced labour at his own price is thereby, in principle, engaging in slavery, and if by obtaining such labour he is able to enter into unfair competition, he is further guilty of doing a gross injustice to his fellow-merchants. The Belgians are extremely prone to this form of labour. In the Congo there is a good deal of State commercial enterprise, which may yet ruin the individual merchant. The Belgian Government is doing the larger proportion of transport on the vast fluvial system of the Congo, and thereby competes with the Dutch House and other transport companies.
These transport steamers are all driven with wood fuel cut from the forests. Every few miles along the banks of the Congo river there may be seen stacks of fire logs cut into lengths of about eighteen inches, which have been either cut by the employees of the Government or by the villagers. No company is permitted to purchase Government wood, and ordinary steamers purchasing from the villagers have to pay 2 francs a fathom for such fuel. Journeying down the Congo a few months ago, three of us carefully examined conditions at one of the wooding posts, manned by twenty-six men and ten women, most of whom had been “demanded” from the chiefs in more distant parts of the Congo, and drafted to the spot in question. Several had already served three years—the nominal term of the contract—but, without any option in the matter, their contracts had been renewed. Each of the men had to cut one fathom of wood per diem; some were paid 7 francs and others only 5 francs a month, with a 3-francs allowance for food. The maximum cost, therefore, was 10 francs for the thirty fathoms of wood cut in the month. Thus the State provides itself with wood at a fraction over threepence per fathom, for which company steamers must pay 2 francs. Under such systems not only are human liberties violated, but commerce suffers prejudice. There is not a little danger that the Belgian authorities intend giving a considerable extension to State enterprises, which in all probability will be prosecuted with this form of forced labour.
The question of State railways and telegraph lines is a difficult one, both partaking of works of public utility, yet both are as a rule profit-bearing. There is the further consideration that all profits go to relieve local taxation. Given representative Government or given even an elective element in the Administration, there may be some justice in imposing this form of forced labour upon the general community, but under the autocratic systems of Crown Colony Administration, large demands for forced labour cause, not unnaturally, widespread disaffection. Fortunately British colonies are almost entirely free from the employment of such labour and to this no doubt is due the excellent management of all railway systems under British control.
The most economic and the most politic line to follow is that of the employment of free labour. Supervision is reduced to a minimum, abuses of authority are rare, the work goes more smoothly, the song takes the place of the boot and the lash, the native labourer goes home when the day’s toil is over vowing vengeance on no one, and the white man returns to his somewhat primitive home with a mind undisturbed by conscious wrong-doing.
II
LAND AND ITS RELATION TO LABOUR
It will not, I think, be contested that throughout West Africa there is no native conception of private ownership of land. This is almost an article of religious faith amongst the African races generally. Let one tribe murder a member of another community and a palaver will be called and compensation paid. If wife-stealing or kidnapping of boys takes place, the tribes involved will remain calm and settle their dispute by making peaceful and honourable amends. Let one tribe exploit the palm, or without leave settle on the lands of another, and, on the instant, the ultimatum is despatched—“Depart forthwith, or accept the alternative!” Indeed the occupation of the communal lands of another tribe is recognized by most tribes as an overt act of warfare, the signal that all negotiations for peace are at an end.
Perhaps no more eloquent testimony of the attachment of native tribes to their lands is to be found anywhere than in the great Equatorial regions of the Congo. The early ’eighties witnessed in the Congo basin three convulsive movements; the entrance of the white man from the west, following on Stanley’s journey across the continent; the incursion of the Arabs from the north, and the Lokele wars towards the south. This latter movement was destined to change the whole situation in the Equatorial regions, south of the main Congo. The Lokeles, probably pressed by the Arabs from the north, started a “land war” with their southern neighbours, the object being to obtain an extension of tribal land. This pressure set in motion a land war, which ultimately extended over an area nearly five times the size of Great Britain and ran right through the south reaching down to the Lukenya river, and in some places even across the greatest of the southern tributaries—the Kasai. Tribes fought each other for the maintenance of their ancient boundaries until the whole of the Equatorial region was in a state of warfare, which only ceased when starvation claimed victims by the thousand. Then only were boundaries re-adjusted by peaceful agreements; even so the whole population for months was in such dire straits for food, that men sold their wives, and mothers their children, for a single basket of manioca. One realizes how passionately the natives are attached to their lands as they recount the horrors of those terrible years. Said one to me recently—“At first we fought to protect our lands, but in the end we had to fight to obtain ‘meat’—human flesh—to stay the pangs of hunger.”
FIXED LAND BOUNDARIES
The native boundaries are almost invisible to the European eye, but to the African student of nature those boundaries are fixed and immovable as the eternal hills. The limits of tribal lands, within the orbit of which the clans may move and hunt whenever they will, are the stream, the palm plantation, the hilly range and the bridges across streams and rivers. Upon the chief and his advisers devolves the sacred duty of maintaining intact these tribal lands, alienation being foreign to the native ideas. So jealously is this guarded that many paramount chiefs in native law have no power to grant even occupancy rights. For six months the cession of Lagos to the British Crown was held up because King Docemo had signed a treaty which appeared to violate this principle of native law. The population declared that the ownership of the land of Lagos was not vested in the paramount chief, but in the seven White Cap chiefs, who, fearing the terrible consequences of alienating the tribal lands, fled to the bush. It became necessary for the British representatives to give the most explicit assurances and sacred promises on the point, in order to secure the ratification of the treaty of cession.
It is perfectly true that titles have been granted to native tribes and to white men, but it is equally true that originally there was never the remotest idea that this involved the European conception of total alienation. In the Holt v. Rex case of Southern Nigeria, the Crown held that “under native law strangers cannot obtain freehold rights—only occupancy rights.” The tribal conception of occupancy rights also carries with it the communal idea; a native clan settling by permission within the territory of another tribe really constitutes the first step in progressive incorporation. In the first instance of white settlers, there are abundant stories of the native interpretation of this principle—some of them distinctly objectionable, although there were pure motives behind them; others are amusing, such as that of the chiefs “borrowing” saws, axes, string, rope, nails and what not. Again and again they have freely and openly helped themselves to palm nuts and other produce from the white man’s ground. No doubt much of what the European calls “pilfering” was really quite innocently founded upon the communal conception of the primitive races.
The impetuous scramble for African territory, which began thirty years ago, made, and continues to make, a considerable breach in this old primitive system. White men, acting through the doubtful medium of interpreters not infrequently corrupted in advance, have secured from chiefs titles to land of all dimensions. These chieftains, as a whole, never fully grasped the meaning of the titles obtained with honeyed words, and which they are now unable to repudiate. That this is so is partly proved by the fact that in some colonies areas have been conceded twice and even three times over. Swaziland is, of course, the most flagrant example, where it will be remembered a situation so complex was created that it ultimately became impossible for any Court to decide as to who were the real owners of specific areas.
In West Africa things are not, and never can be, quite so bad, although in some colonies, the Gold Coast for example, German Cameroons and French Congo, land difficulties are being piled up for the endless confusion of future administrators. In Belgian Congo there is no immediate probability of trouble, due partly to the fact that capital has little confidence in Belgium’s heritage, but more because the major part of the population has disappeared.
LAND AND LABOUR
There is a vital connection between land and labour in all tropical and sub-tropical colonies. The economic future of native races is immobilized in the proportion in which their lands are taken from them. The almost phenomenal success of the cocoa industry in the British colony of the Gold Coast is due entirely to the fact that the natives are the proprietors of the cocoa farms. Throughout the colonial world, there is no more striking contrast between a landed and a landless native community than the British Gold Coast colony and the neighbouring Portuguese colony of San Thomé. In both territories cocoa flourishes, both produce excellent cocoa, in both nature is very kind, but while the one will march on conquering the cocoa markets of the world, the other is doomed to ultimate disaster.
The San Thomé cocoa producer is only a labourer—in fact a slave—and he is perishing at such a rate that the depleted ranks must be filled from outside sources to the number of 3000 to 4000 labourers every year. This constant inflow of labour cannot continue indefinitely, even if European sentiment permitted—which it will not—the revolting concomitants by which this labour has been maintained. The economic future of these colonies from which the supplies are drawn will soon forbid the emigration which at present is necessary to the island of San Thomé The population of the Gold Coast, on the other hand, happy in the enjoyment, in the main, of its own lands, reproduces and to some extent even increases itself every year. The native occupies his rightful place as producer, while the white man finds his true sphere, first as the inspirer of native efforts to place on the market cocoa of increasingly good quality, secondly as the medium by which the cocoa produced is conveyed to the manufacturer, and thirdly that by which surplus European manufactures are brought to the door of the native in exchange for his products.
This relationship of land to labour is receiving increasing recognition by students of colonial policy. The Republican Government of Portugal, finding both labour and land problems in hopeless confusion in the African colonies, has recently introduced a comprehensive measure embracing both factors in the development of African colonies. The ordinance is probably too generous in proportions to be carried through effectively in any colony, and stands little chance of complete application in Portuguese colonies, which suffer already from an excess of legislation, coupled with a rooted contempt for “Lisbon dictation.” This new ordinance, however, is a valuable contribution to West African legal literature.
The Provisional Government first lays down the proposition that every native in the Portuguese colonies is under “a moral and legal obligation to work.” The proposition upon land is in the following terms: “In all the Provinces beyond the seas, wherever there are public lands vacant, uncultivated, and not used for any special purpose, natives may occupy and cultivate them subject to conditions laid down in the present ordinance.”
The native in Portuguese colonies, therefore, must work. The sphere of labour he may choose, but idleness is henceforth a punishable offence.
Women, sick men, minors under fourteen years of age, chiefs and those in regular employment, are either exempt from the operation of the ordinance or deemed to have fulfilled its obligations.
Any native may contract his services, but, in the first instance, for a period limited to two years. The agreement is null and void unless the wages are fixed and recorded in the contract. Any clause giving the employer the right to administer corporal punishment likewise renders the contract invalid. The engagement may be made with or without the assistance of Government officials, but any document signed in the presence of a Government authority carries with it both the right and the responsibility of official intervention in any subsequent dispute between the parties. If, however, the contracting parties enter into the agreement without reference to the authorities, the employer cannot look for official assistance in disputes with the employés, although the latter under all circumstances may rely upon official protection and assistance. All contracts must bear the impress of the labourer’s thumb. Wages may not be withheld, nor may pressure be exerted to force merchandize upon the employé in lieu of wages.
Recruiting agents must obtain a licence from the Governor of the province, and any infraction of this section of the ordinance is punishable by a fine of £100 to £1000. A heavier penalty still awaits any recruiting agent who attempts to contract labourers for prescribed regions: presumably that death-trap of Portuguese colonies, the island of Principe. The punishment for such violation may be imprisonment for one year, a fine of £200, and at the expiration of the term of imprisonment, expulsion from the colony. Similar penalties await any agent contracting labourers beyond the bounds of his judicial area.
The Republican Government evidently realizes that contract labour, however benevolent it may be made to appear on paper, is not always a heavenly condition, and that the labourer may repent of his bargain before expiration. Section 18 provides for almost every concomitant which attaches to restrained labour. The pill, however, is sugared by a preliminary and somewhat unctuous preamble, that the whole trend of employment must be that of “moral education.” In pursuance of this laudable object, powers of arrest are conferred, “precautions” against running away are permitted, and if a second offence occurs, the offender, “when caught,” may be taken to the authorities “to be chastised.” There are, however, certain limits to these powers, for the employer may neither shackle nor chain an employé, nor may he deprive the labourers of food, nor impose any fines which involve deductions from wages.
If the native of the Portuguese colonies dislikes the yoke of any master, he may, like Adam, “till the soil,” for, as already stated, all vacant public and uncultivated lands are at the disposal of the colonists. The first general restriction is that this liberty is only open to those “who do not possess immovable property to the value of £10.” The object of this restriction is nowhere elucidated, but apparently it is that of fixing the population upon definite areas.
LEASEHOLD BECOMES FREEHOLD
If, then, the native does not possess immovable property to that amount, he may occupy a piece of land measuring 2¼ acres for himself, and an additional acre for every member of his family with the exception of males above fourteen years of age.
A man with two wives, a mother, three daughters, and also three sons under fourteen years of age, could occupy under this regulation a little over ten acres, but the occupation must be an effective one. A dwelling-house must be erected, and two-thirds of the area must be under cultivation, otherwise the title becomes void, and the authorities will expel the occupants. The right of occupancy is inalienable.
During the first five years of occupation, the colonist is exempt from all dues, but at the close of this period taxation is levied and may be paid either in cash or kind. Failure to pay these dues renders the occupier liable to eviction without any compensation for improvements.
After an occupation of twenty years, characterized by the fulfilment of all legal responsibilities, the occupier automatically acquires the freehold. These cultivators or small holders are exempt from serving either in the army or the police; they are likewise freed from any form of forced labour, hammock carrying, or paddling, but they are not exempt from taking part in military operations with their respective chiefs, when such expeditions are undertaken by command of the authorities.
District commissioners, civil and military officials are urged to induce natives to avail themselves of the land provisions, and are empowered to assign them plots of land. They are also instructed to prepare local regulations safeguarding the rights of the colonists, compile land registers, etc., for which no fees are to be exacted from the natives.
If a native will not labour for another, if he will not sow a field or trade in produce, if in short he is only prepared to stretch forth an unwashed hand and mutter “Matabeesh, Senhor!” then the official representative of the Government will deal with him. The danger is that other than “wastrels” may be swept into the official net, particularly whilst such operations are so highly profitable to the Portuguese colonies.
First the delinquent is summoned to answer the charge of idling without visible means of support; then the paternal authorities are to read him a homily on “moral education,” and forthwith despatch him to a place where work is waiting for him. If he still refuses to work he may be sent to “correctional labour.” There he will receive food and lodging and be given one-third the market rate of wages. “Correctional labourers” may, according to Section 58, be hired out by private persons upon the same terms as the prisoners of State. Such persons willing to employ “correctional labourers” are requested to make formal application, but only those are eligible to receive such labourers who have never been convicted in any court. If they receive such labourers a given sum per capita must be paid to the State and a fine of £20 paid for any shortage in “returns” alive or dead, the number hired out must be returned to the Authorities. If, however, escape is feared, the correctional labourers may be returned to State prisons each night.
If the whole ordinance is to be applied to the Portuguese colonies in a measure of completeness hitherto foreign to the Portuguese possessions, then there is some hope that even the leopard may be able to change his spots.
HUMAN VALUES
There is little likelihood that the Portuguese land laws will be rendered effective on the spot, especially when we remember that many thousands of miles throughout which such laws are intended to operate are not yet under any sort of administrative control. The step which is finding most favour in British West African colonies is that of declaring all lands, whether occupied or not, as native land under some sort of ultimate trusteeship of the Governor for the benefit of the natives. No purpose can be served by denying that this would place very large powers in the hands of a single individual, even though the powers so conferred may only be exercised “in accordance with native law and custom.” It would beyond question give to the Governor powers which in the hands of some individuals might be exceedingly dangerous.
The majority of British Governors of Crown colonies could undoubtedly be allowed to supersede the paramount chiefs in every respect, providing the constitution of the Crown colonies permitted the bringing into full play of this one vital condition, viz. that his actions would always be “in accordance with native law and custom,” but Crown Colony government excludes at present any form of representative government which is the unwritten law of every African tribe.
Docemo, and his successor Prince Eleko, in Southern Nigeria, exacted, and exact to-day, an abject obeisance from their counsellors, which, if demanded by a British Governor, would secure his prompt recall. No chieftain, whether he be Mohammedan or Pagan, ever enters the presence of the native Council Chamber of Lagos without prostrating himself flat upon the ground and kissing it three times before receiving permission to sit down. Yet this paramount chief could not alienate a square yard of land without the sanction of his advisers.
No British Governor is at present in this position. In practice, his powers under Crown Colony government are in the ultimate resort absolute and uncontrolled, except by question, answer and debate, in the British House of Commons. When, however, the subject-matter reaches this stage, the man on the spot has probably already committed the Government, and the department is therefore bound to defend him.
Admittedly, somebody must protect the native from the wiles of unscrupulous white speculators, no less than from the subtle and treacherous conduct of individual natives. It is the duty of the Governor, as the responsible authority of the Crown and trustee of native welfare, to do this; let him by all means have power to prevent the alienation of land and to grant occupancy rights, but under a system of government which will give the natives themselves that which they possess by native law and custom—a collective voice in such decisions. It should not be beyond the wit of man to frame a system of governmental control over native tribal lands which would satisfy the great mass of the people, for let it never be forgotten that Africans in the aggregate are reasonable and by no means difficult to deal with along lines which are demonstrably equitable.
PRINCE ELEKO AND COUNCIL, SOUTHERN NIGERIA.
III
PORTUGUESE SLAVERY
In Portuguese West Africa one sees the best and the worst treatment of native races. The best for the free native, the best for the educated coloured man and the best for the coloured woman. In every other colony—and in this respect British colonies are becoming the worst—race prejudice not only prevails but is on the increase. In the Portuguese colonies there is a pleasing absence of race prejudice; natives of equal social status are as freely admitted to Portuguese institutions as white men; the hotels, the railways, the parks and roads possess no colour-bar, and if the Portuguese colonies could be purged of their foul blot of slavery, the natives of other African colonies might well envy their fellows in Portuguese Africa. Alongside intimate social relations with the native is a widespread plantation slavery in Angola, San Thomé and Principe.
ANGOLA
Angola, one of the largest political divisions of West Africa, is bounded on the north by the Congo, the east by Rhodesia and on the south by German Damaraland; a considerable section of the northern territory, including the whole Lunda country, comes within the operations of the General Act of Berlin. Apart from the Lunda province and strips of land bordering the rivers, the colony cannot be said to give any promise of an agricultural future, although if one nation is adept over all others in turning wastes into gardens, that nation is the Portuguese, to whom gardens and plantations are second nature. A Portuguese house without its shady vinery, its delicate fernery and luxuriant kitchen garden is unthinkable; even the little children in the streets, instead of building castles and grottos, find infinite delight in laying out miniature gardens, in which they arrange flowers and ferns with artistic taste.
Economically, however, Angola does not pay, its finances are like many of its old houses—very unstable and subject to leakage. Walk its streets, visit its families, Government departments or merchants’ houses, and certain it is that every other man you meet will remind you forcibly of Micawber. The Portuguese community in any part of Angola can be roughly classed as the Moneylenders and Borrowers. Each, however, appears to be supremely happy and lives in absolute assurance that something will turn up every day to render life more agreeable.
Loanda, the capital, is a strange admixture of ancient and modern dwellings, old churches, a roofless theatre and dilapidated bull-rings. But despite its shortcomings, the Portuguese have made Loanda the most restful health-restoring sea-port in West Africa. Boma, the capital of the Congo, is distant only twenty-four hours’ steam, but it is surely the most unhealthy and the most foodless place in Africa. The Belgians, if they liked, might supply fresh provisions to its starving and dying population,—for everyone in Boma is dying, it is only a question of time. In Boma, fowls, eggs, fruit, fish and vegetables are priceless, while every day shiploads can be purchased very cheaply in Loanda, and if shipped twice a week to the Lower Congo, would at least make life, though short, more comfortable.
LAND FORMATION, LOANDA, PORTUGUESE ANGOLA.
There is one place every visitor to Loanda should inspect—the old Dutch Church dedicated to “The Lady of our Salvation.” Some American dollars would be well spent in preserving this relic, for it is one of the many instances which demonstrate that slaving was a pious occupation in the early seventeenth century. The whole of the interior was once composed of blue and white tiles of pictorial design, and one on the north wall of the chancel is still complete; this apparently represents the conquest of Angola by the Dutch, who are seen in broad-brimmed hats, braided coat-tails and parade boots, fighting and slaughtering the hosts of savages. The whole operation against the unfortunate infidels is being directed, and presumably blessed, by the Lady of our Salvation enthroned in the clouds.
If Portuguese enterprise has made Loanda a restful spot for weary travellers, British capital—in the person Robert Williams—has turned an unknown strip of desert land into a nourishing sea-port now known as Lobito Bay. It is from this port, with excellent anchorage and transport facilities, that the West Coast will connect with the Cape railway. This Lobito—Katanga railway, though it has only completed some 450 of the 1200 miles to Katanga, promises commercial success when opened, for it should then constitute the cheapest transport route to Rhodesia and the Congo; that is unless the Portuguese, with their usual short-sighted economic policy, kill the enterprise with tariffs before it has had a real chance of life.
There are only two other ports of any consequence in Portuguese Angola—Mossamedes and Benguella; the latter a harbour with perpetual “rollers” which make a stay on board anything but a comfortable experience. The town itself, like most Portuguese institutions, is going to ruin: the only redeeming feature being the maintenance of its public gardens, fountains and Eucalyptus avenues. Catumbella, an inland town, lies midway between Lobito Bay and Benguella, and with the latter town, constituted the principal centre of the slave-trade. The old slave-compounds and prison-houses confront the traveller in every part of Catumbella and Benguella, and although many have fallen into disuse, some still have the appearance of occasional occupation.
PORTUGUESE “HOTELS”
Loanda, Lobito and Benguella all possess “hotels.” Those of the capital proper are a strange mixture of cleanliness, tobacco-ash and half-hidden dirt, but at least they are free from the presence of those unfortunate white women who intrude themselves with such persistence on the attention or inattention of passing white travellers in Benguella, and live by running accounts paid irregularly by white men in that most loathsome of all towns in West Africa. Those wishing to visit Benguella should order their rooms months ahead and not be surprised if on arrival Senhor has forgotten all about the order and has neither room nor bed at his disposal. A sound and vigorous rating, however, will generally extort a promise of a room somewhere, a promise which will seldom be fulfilled until all other guests have retired to beds severally robbed of one portion or another to make up an incomplete set for the newly-arrived guests. Nor must the tired travellers be surprised if a black boy enters the bedroom, without knocking, and demands the “other master’s pillow,” only to be followed later by another woolly pate thrust round the doorway sleepily requesting the surrender of a counterpane or towel, for yet “another master.”
CHANCEL AND NORTH WALL OF DISUSED DUTCH CHURCH, LOANDA. [See p. 171.]
It is useless to expostulate with the hotel manager, who will reply with a veritable flood of apologies and threaten to break the head, and neck if necessary, of every black boy in the place, and yet the guest knows with mathematical certainty that he will again have to go through the same course of torture before getting a troubled sleep on that straw mattress in yonder whitewashed room. This is the whole trouble with the Portuguese, commercially and diplomatically; their eternal protestations of sincerity, integrity and courtesy on the one hand, and, on the other, a total incapability of observing the most sacred promises. It is an old story, the same which confronted Wellington in the early nineteenth century. The Portuguese is very like the African; you despair of curing him of his weaknesses—which are, after all, seldom intentionally vicious—and yet you love him, because his kindly nature compels you.
The chief interest for the British public in Portuguese colonies arises from two distinct causes—financial interests and treaty obligations. Our financial interests are not large; they involve certain railway schemes, the supply of labour for the Transvaal mines, and a few plantation and merchant enterprises. Our treaty obligations, binding us in definite alliance with Portugal, may at any moment involve Great Britain in a grave international situation. The value, or otherwise, of such an alliance is open to a difference of opinion. It is, however, imperative that our ally should observe all moral standards which the civilized Powers are pledged to maintain with all the forces at their disposal. Travellers, consuls, merchants, sea captains and government officials have repeatedly called attention to the prevailing slavery and slave-trade in Portuguese West Africa; both of which detestable practices are in gross violation of Anglo-Portuguese treaties, the Brussels and Berlin Acts. All, or any, of the civilized Powers can at any moment—and in point of responsibility should—intervene and demand the abolition of slavery in Angola, San Thomé and Principe, and if Portugal continued to beg the question by calling slavery by some other name, that Power, or those Powers, could, if they so desired, shake her out of her indifference by casting the anchor of a battleship in sight of the ports of San Thomé and St. Paul de Loanda. I am not advocating such a course for one moment, but it is vital that the British public should realize that in the event of any Power signatory to anti-slavery Conventions waking up for any reason, disinterested or otherwise, to treaty obligations, and making some effort to discharge those liabilities, such Power would be at once confronted by the possibility of Britain’s navy defending Portuguese colonies, although run by slave labour. A pretty spectacle indeed, Britain’s matchless fleet defending the slaver, only wanting old Jack Hawkins on the Bridge, to complete the picture!
COCOA CARRYING, BELGIAN CONGO.
ENTRANCE TO COCOA ROÇA, PRINCIPE ISLAND. (PORTUGUESE.)
MAINLAND SLAVERY
Portugal shares with every other West African Power the problem of shortage of labour and with it the short-sighted energy of the impatient employer, who, beyond the ken of the official eye, frequently resorts to illegal means for increasing his supply. Domestic slavery survives in Portuguese Angola as well as in Nigeria, and in Belgian and French Congo. One can only estimate very roughly the slave population of Africa, but probably not less than a million human beings are to-day ignorant of the blessings of personal liberty. Mr. Nevinson, in his admirable book on “Modern Slavery,” says of Angola alone, “including the very large number of natives who, by purchase or birth, are the family slaves of the village chiefs and other fairly prosperous natives, we might probably reckon at least half the population as living under some form of slavery.” We cannot acquit many Powers in Africa from the charge of profiting administratively from this form of human chattelage, but when Portugal sets up a tu quoque plea we are compelled to differ. The dividing line between the Powers is that whilst many of them profit by this practice occasionally and for restricted periods, the Portuguese descend to the lowest level, adopt the native practice themselves and thus become not the “hirers,” but the owners. In this way they endeavour to meet their interminable shortage in the labour supply. To what lengths they are prepared to carry this system may be gathered from the report of Professor A. Prister in the Hamburger Fremden-Blatt for 28th July, 1906:—“In Angola, even in San Paolo de Loanda, under the eyes of the Governor, the Bishop and the high officials,” he alleges, are to be found “regular ‘bridewells’ for the production of slaves.” One of these, he says, he visited on the estate of “one of the richest Portuguese,” sixteen miles from Loanda. There he saw a large number of women, with only a few men, at work. “Each woman has a little hut, in a courtyard enclosed by a wall, in which she lives with her young ones. The woman is always pregnant, and carries her last child on her back, during work, in Kaffir manner. The overseer of this plantation, who treated me in every respect with Portuguese friendliness, and took me for a great admirer of his breeding establishment, told me that about four hundred negroes were there, and added with a laugh that he had over a hundred young ones in the compound. This is just as if a cattle-breeder were boasting of the fine increase in his herds. When the young one is so far grown up that he can be put to some use, at from six to eight years of age, he enters into a so-called contract, or he steps quite simply into the place of a dead serviçal. For instance, Joseph is told that his name is no more Joseph but Charles, and immediately the dead Charles is replaced. He never fell ill; he never died; he only lives a second life.” It is to be hoped that such incidents are rare even in Angola, but it brings home forcibly to the British mind the sort of colonies the “matchless navy” of Great Britain may be called upon one day to defend.
CONTRACT LABOUR AND SLAVERY
Certain apologists of the Portuguese are very fond of comparing the British indentured labour system with labour conditions on the Angolan mainland and the islands. The labour system of the East and West Indies are by no means ideal, but there is a world of difference, not only in the daily management of this labour, but fundamentally.
In San Thomé the contracted labourer from Angola is a slave: he calls himself a slave, and the Mozambique free man holds him in contempt as a slave; either he was captured, or purchased on the mainland with cash by the plantation owners just as men purchase cattle or capture wild animals. Every single slave with whom I spoke, both on the mainland and on the islands, gave me the clearest account, replete with convincing detail, of the manner in which he or she had been either kidnapped or purchased. Not a few of the slaves had “changed hands” several times before the ultimate sale to the planter.
The Slave’s Case
In the back streets of Angolan ports, on the highways of Lobito and Benguella, and in the shady by-paths of Catumbella, the traveller may at any time penetrate the secrets of the tragedies which attach themselves to the souls of men and women who have lost their freedom. The same tragedies but with attendant secrets darker still, are locked within the breasts of the slaves on the Portuguese cocoa islands in the Gulf of Guinea. There by the roadside, on the banks of crystal streams, up in the cocoa roças, and along the valleys thick with cocoa-trees, the traveller has abundant opportunities for penetrating the secrets of the miserable slaves.
THE VOICE OF THE SLAVE
Behind the mountainous coast of Angola, the town of Novo Redondo hides itself in a hollow, as if ashamed of its history, or perhaps so that its traffic in human beings during past centuries might escape the attention of watchful cruisers. There, amongst a group of slaves and freemen, I met a woman with a story more eloquent than others because it was also so recent, so vivid and so forceful. She had not been long on the coast, for only a few months ago she had for the first time witnessed the Atlantic breakers tossing themselves with their impetuous fury on that strip of rocky shore. The hour was that of the mid-day rest, and the woman was sitting sadly apart from the other labourers. A glance at her attitude, coiffure and other characteristics rendered her a somewhat singular figure in that group of serviçaes, still there was a familiarity which surely could not be mistaken—somewhere in Central Africa those cicatrized arms, that braided head, had a tribal home.
“True, white man, I have come from far; from the land of great rivers and dark forests.”
“How were you enslaved?” I asked.
“They charged me with theft and then sold me to another tribe, and they in turn to a black trader. This man drove me for many ‘moons’ along the great road until a white man at D⸺ bought me and sent me here.”
“Where am I going now? Who can tell? I suppose I shall be sold to a planter.”
There was no need of the slave’s reiterated assertion that she had been nearly ten months marching down to the coast; the locality of her tribe was plainly set forth on the forearm by the indelible cicatrizing knife of her race. The journey from the Batetela tribe of the Congo to the shores of Novo Redondo cannot be much less than 1,500 miles. This was one of the most recent cases we discovered and shows that the slave trade in Portuguese territory is a question of the moment.
Fifty years ago, it is said, a ragged urchin ran the streets of San Thomé, holding sometimes for a five reis piece, sometimes for as many kicks, the heads of mules and horses for the affluent slave-planters of that island. That ragged urchin to-day possesses a mansion in three capitals of Europe, and a stately car rushes to and fro with the sovereign lord of some thousands of slaves. The sycophants, time-servers, and others of the crowd of parasitic admirers, who cluster round this august person, care little for the misery beneath that sordid splendour. His wretched slaves spend their days from 5.30 in the morning until sunset cultivating cocoa, that their master may fare sumptuously every day in Europe, and finance dethroned Royalty which is not ashamed to use these ill-gotten funds in half-hearted endeavours to regain a discredited crown. The slaves know nothing of this; one thing only they know is that when the bell rings at sunrise they must devote their energies to the production of the cocoa bean until sunset, and that this weary monotony has in it not a glimmer of hope of cessation.
Along that picturesque road, known as the Mother of God road (philosophers might give us some reason why the slavers in all history annex the Holy Virgin), we once met a group of slaves with a sadness written on their faces which seemed almost to cry out, “We are lost souls.”
“Are you well fed?”
“Yes, white man, we are fed.”
“Housed?”
“Yes.”
“Are you freemen?”
“No, we are only slaves.”
“Would you like your liberty?”
“Aye, would we not, but Master won’t liberate us.”
Amongst that group was one old man quite grey, who declared he had been on the islands over thirty years, and his conversation so interested me that I asked him to describe his journey to the coast. This, though a story over thirty years old, was full of terrible interest. The old man had by this time gained some confidence, and when speaking of the district where he was first sold I became convinced that his home was in the far hinterland of the Congo. With unexpected suddenness I startled him by uttering one of the rhythmic morning greetings of his native tongue. The old man started at first, as if struck with a whip, then, like a man half awake, he appeared to reach after some unseen thing; then at last it suddenly broke in upon him that the language he had heard was the music of his boyhood; his wrinkled old face was wreathed in smiles, his tired eyes lit up, and then in short animated sentences he poured forth question after question.
“Oh! white man, tell me about Luebo, tell me about Basongo.”
“Tell me is Kalamba still alive?”
The impetuosity of the questions, the lively gestures, the hungering look in those brown eyes showed how the old man thirsted for information of his little village away on the banks of the broad Kasai.
SLAVES ON SAN THOMÉ.
DISUSED SLAVE COMPOUND IN REAR OF HOUSE, CATUMBELLA.
The island of Principe has a horror all its own, for it is infested with the dread sleeping sickness. Conditions are so bad that the Portuguese dare not send the free labourers from Mozambique, lest their current of labour from that part of West Africa should take alarm and cease. White men and women are fleeing from danger, but the authorities still keep slaves within biting distance of the fever impregnated fly. Dr. Correa Mendes, a courageous Portuguese medical authority, has urged that every living animal should be killed as the only hope of saving Principe; but none have yet dared to propose the liberation of the slaves.
The slaves of Principe present an even more melancholy appearance than do those of San Thomé. They appear to possess an instinctive knowledge that they are confined in a death-trap, and their appeals for liberation are piteously violent.
I cannot readily forget a conversation with four young slaves on Principe. Of these, but two had known freedom; the others had been born of slave parents. On the features of one, the traces of sleeping sickness in an advanced stage were plainly marked, and though still labouring at his task, it was plain that death had already marked him for its own.
I asked the usual questions.
“Are you well fed?”
“Yes, Senhor.”
“Clothed and housed?”
“Yes, Senhor.”
“You are not flogged or beaten?”
“Oh! are we not!”
“But I am told the planters never beat you.”
“Tell me then, Senhor, how was this deep wound caused?”
In support of this statement the whole group of slaves chimed in with exclamations and assertions that they were constantly flogged and beaten.
“Do you desire your freedom?”
“Senhor, why taunt us? Did you ever know an African who did not love his home and country?”
“Well, I think there are people in Europe who will endeavour to emancipate you.”
“Senhor, I fear when you get on yonder ocean, you will forget the poor slaves of Principe and San Thomé!”
This latter reply was uttered with so desponding a note that I ventured to make the slaves a promise, which British honour—no less than British responsibility—should see fulfilled.
“Listen, I am now going to Europe and shall soon meet the liberty-loving British people. I know how they detest slavery; I know how they will struggle for your liberty. Take this promise yourselves—and pass the word round the plantations to the other slaves—God helping us, we will set you free within two years.”
The effect of this promise was good to behold, the eyes brightened, there was an elasticity in movement and grateful word of thanks as the slaves resumed their never-ending task. Even the slave in the fell grip of sleeping sickness appeared to share in the joy of a freedom he could not hope to experience.
Not all the slaves are purchased for plantation work, as the following typical instances will shew. Beautiful black women have their price. The day was indeed a hot one as I strolled along the shores of the Atlantic below the mouth of the Congo, when a finely-built young woman met me. Originally captured over 2,000 miles away, her fine figure and bright features had obtained for her captor a high price as “domestic” for the white man. To him it was nothing that she longed to exchange her captive life for that home away in the far interior, or that the roar of the waves was a perpetual reminder of the gentle lappings of the lake shore of Tanganyika. The woman was his slave, purchased with “honest money”—his slave until he ceased to want her, and then—well, he would sell her to the nearest planter and buy another, for healthy young girls are always marketable not only in Portuguese territory but in other parts of West Africa.
Another day two white-clad European travellers might have been seen moving in and out amongst the villages outside a Portuguese town of Angola, exchanging greetings with half-dressed natives. Presently it is realized that this is no casual visit of curious strangers, for it is obvious that the white man’s handshake is but an excuse for a closer scrutiny of the arm, the temple, or the chest, and the natives gather round the travellers as they proceed from group to group. Something now arrests attention, for the white man is sitting down amidst a party of four or five women.
In a few minutes confidence has been gained, and the women submit to an examination of certain marks cut years ago on their arms and foreheads. The white man first tries a sentence in a tongue unknown to the group of interested onlookers, but there is no response from those to whom it was addressed. He tries another, and there is a sudden silence; all eyes are directed to a woman who, after a faint cry of amazement, is gazing fixedly into space, for the white man had by that sentence struck a chord silenced by long years of sorrow and suffering. The woman gazed on silently and intently as if trying to recall a half-forgotten past. She travels in thought back over yonder mountains, across the hot plain, and on by rippling streams and through valleys thick with ripe corn, away across the Cuanza river, on for months to Lake Dilolo, where she sees again as in a vision the white man who bought her from the native slave-trader. In fancy she leaves the cornfields of Angola, crosses the upper Kasai, and is away north beyond Lusambo, and westward to the little Congo village with its deep green plantain groves and manioca fields.
A remark breaks the spell, and she realizes that it was but a dream, for she is still a captive; but the white man speaking her native tongue is no dream—he is still there speaking the language that sounds like the far-off music of another life. The light of hope dawns in her eyes as she turns on the traveller, pleading, “White man, can’t you take me home?”
THE PLANTERS’ CASE
It must not be supposed that all the San Thomé planters on the island believe in, or defend, present conditions, any more than it must be supposed that, without exception, they are habitually guilty of inhuman maltreatment of the slaves. The charge of maintaining slavery most of them emphatically deny, and in support of their contention point to legal contracts which cover the original transaction by which the labour was obtained. They also remind the investigator that the labourers are paid. There are, however, some honest planters who admit that the original “contract” was not altogether genuine, and the statements made by the planters and the slaves respectively with regard to the wages paid, differ so absurdly that one is compelled to dismiss both.
SLAVES ON COCOA ROÇA, PRINCIPE ISLAND.
THE END OF THE SLAVE. TWO SLAVES CARRYING DEAD COMRADE IN SACK TO BURIAL.
To many managers definite acts of cruelty would be highly repulsive. It is furthermore very obvious that not a few owners and planters do everything which science and money can provide to make the lot of the slave a happy one. The planters argue with much warmth and sincerity of conviction that the labourers are better housed, fed, and clothed on the plantations than they would be in their mainland villages. Their melancholy demeanour and their insistent desire for liberty, the low birth rate and frightful mortality amongst the slaves is put down very largely to the gross obstinacy and stupidity of the enslaved negroes.
If the planters are questioned upon the desire of the slaves to regain their liberty they reply that this would be an act of injustice because many of the labourers have forgotten the districts from which they were originally “recruited” and that even if complete repatriation were carried through the men and women repatriated would probably fall a prey to evil influences on the mainland.
The attitude assumed by the Portuguese authorities towards the question of slavery in their West African colonies has hitherto been first of all one of inferential denial that slavery exists, and secondly they call attention to the elaborate regulations framed for protecting the natives from any infringement of their liberties.
On paper, the labourers are contracted for short periods of service in Angola and the cocoa islands; are said to have a happier lot than any other contract labourers in the world; and that any who so desire are free to return to their homes at the termination of their contracts. A great deal more is on paper which, if practices only accorded with the minimum of professions, would assure the cessation of slavery in Portuguese West Africa.
Perhaps nothing written in the earlier days upon this question has brought out so forcibly the “ownership” feature of labour conditions as the disclosures made in the Cadbury—Standard libel action. In that trial Sir Edward Carson called attention to a circular forwarded to Messrs. Cadbury referring to the sale of an estate in San Thomé. The stock enumerated included one item, “Two hundred black labourers ... £3555.” This gives the average price of the slaves as £18 per capita, taking the sick with the healthy and the young with the old. Various prices are quoted as the value of the slaves, but this depends, of course, upon physique, sex and age. Mr. Joseph Burtt, the Commissioner of the cocoa firms, gives £25 to £40, whilst Mr. Consul Nightingale stated £50 as the average price. When in Portuguese West Africa several of the slaves were even able to tell us the prices at which they were purchased by the different middlemen, and occasionally even by Portuguese themselves.
The evidence now to hand of the existence of both the slave-trade and slavery is overwhelming.
SIR EDWARD GREY’S “BEYOND DOUBT”
On November 22nd, 1909, the Portuguese Foreign Minister called upon Sir Edward Grey, apparently with the object of discussing this question, and in conversation the Foreign Minister informed M. Du Bocage that the information he “had received from private sources placed beyond doubt[10] the fact that it had been the custom for natives to be captured in the interior by people who were really slave-dealers; the captured natives were then brought down to the coast and went to work in the Portuguese islands.”
On the 26th of October last, Sir Arthur Hardinge, whose intimate knowledge of slavery questions is probably unequalled, informed the Portuguese Minister for Foreign Affairs that when he was in Brussels, he “had heard serious complaints in official circles at Brussels of the way in which slaves were kidnapped by Angola caravans from the Kasai district of the Congo, which shewed that the charges made did not emanate solely from missionaries or philanthropic sentimentalists.”
In July, 1909, an exhaustive series of regulations were issued from Lisbon. The 139 articles covered almost every actual and conceivable feature of the whole labour question, but as Mr. Consul Mackie pointedly remarked—
“The Angolan native ... is contracted in a wild state under circumstances of doubtful legality, and is so convinced that he is a slave that nothing short of repatriation, which should therefore be compulsory, would serve to persuade him that, at least in the eyes of the law, he is a free agent. It would obviously be useless to argue that the ‘serviçal’ is not a slave merely because he is provided with a legal contract, renewable at the option of his employer, in which he is officially proclaimed to be free.”
The evidence, therefore, that the Portuguese colonial labour systems are pure slavery is confirmed (a) In a British Law Court, (b) by the British Foreign Minister, (c) by the British Consul on the spot, and (d) by Sir Arthur Hardinge. Could anyone desire more emphatic evidence than is now provided? and this does not exhaust the available sources, for even the Portuguese themselves have now been forced to admit that the slave-trade is very much in evidence.
Writing to Sir Arthur Hardinge on October 23rd last, the Portuguese Foreign Minister admitted that there was—
“Slave-traffic with the inhabitants with Luando, in the district of Lunda.... It was ascertained that in reality the Bihean natives were in the habit of settling their debts and disputes by means of ‘serviçaes.’ Two convoys proceeding from Luando were captured, and the serviçaes handed over to the delegate of the Curator concerned, to be retained until claimed by their relatives, to whom the necessary notice was sent.”
It is instructive to note that the Portuguese Minister in this passage makes no distinction between serviçaes and slaves, yet when unofficial critics declare that in practice the terms are indistinguishable, they are condemned for deliberately confusing the public mind. It is also of importance to bear in mind that the Lunda Province is included in the territories which come under the operations of the Berlin Act, whereby every European Power is under the most solemn responsibility to secure throughout these territories the abolition of slavery.
PORTUGUESE OFFICIAL ADMISSION
There is further the evidence, from a Portuguese source, in the fact that in 1911 eleven Portuguese are reported to have been expelled for engaging in the slave-traffic. The Governor of Angola informed Mr. Drummond Hay that nothing severer than the order of expulsion was administered owing to the lack of “conclusive evidence,” but four months later the Portuguese Foreign Minister admitted that the Europeans “by the inquiry were found guilty of acts of slave-traffic.” Sir Arthur Hardinge pointed out that
“the 5th article of the Brussels General Act contemplated severer penalties in the case of persons engaging in the slave-trade than an order of expulsion before trial or a prohibition to return to the colony, which such persons, if convicted of a serious criminal offence there, would hardly need.”
When, therefore, the long stream of unofficial testimony upon the existence of the slave-trade and slavery in the Portuguese colonies is confirmed in turn by the British Minister at Lisbon and by the British Consul of Angola, and moreover when Sir Edward Grey, who always chooses language with exceptional care, officially informs civilization that the charges are proved “beyond doubt,” and finally when the Portuguese authorities are driven to admit it, then surely the time has come to cease gathering evidence and to set about some substantial and far-reaching measures of reform.
To meet a situation which is a grave international scandal and a potential menace to European peace, what do the Portuguese offer to civilization? They claim good treatment of the labourers, humane regulations and repatriation of the slaves.
It is common ground that the slaves upon the islands are, generally speaking, well fed, housed and fairly well clothed, but the slaves themselves are emphatic in their assertions that they are frequently beaten. This the Portuguese deny, but those who know West Africa are perfectly well aware that it is impossible to keep something like 40,000 slaves working on the cocoa farms at the rate of “a man per hectare” without a considerable amount of “pressure.”
The regulations are exhaustive upon every feature of the labourer’s life except emancipation, from the time he is “recruited” until he is buried, but as Mr. Consul Mackie has recently pointed out, “The absence of any (regulations) for the return journey in the event of the labourer declining to accept the conditions of the contract is somewhat suspicious.” That the keeping of statistical records is part of the ordinary administrative routine is a common-place, but that this elementary duty may be performed, a regulation was issued three years ago, yet to this day that instruction has never been carried out, with the result that no reliable information is possible with regard to the birth and death rates.
MORE REGULATIONS
According to regulations, every labourer’s history is carefully recorded and the fullest details endorsed upon the contract, yet in the case of 135 out of 163 slaves repatriated in the early part of last year it was impossible to state how long they had been upon the islands. This is not only a further evidence of the futility of Portuguese regulations, but it constitutes additional evidence as to the fictitious nature of the supposed “contract systems.”
To the tragedy of slavery on Principe is added the ever present horror of sleeping sickness which is everywhere raging on the island. To the lasting disgrace of the Portuguese Government it still permits the retention of slaves on the island where conditions are so bad that, as I have already pointed out, the eminent Dr. Mendes has advised the killing of all the cattle on the island in the hope of checking the ravages of the disease. Here again the Portuguese Government has been content to meet the situation with paper “regulations,” which would be comic if it were not for the distressing condition of these wretched slaves. According to these regulations all the slaves “must wear trousers to the heel, blouses with sleeves to the wrist, and high collars ... they must wear on their backs a black cloth covered with glue!” It is barely necessary to state that these regulations are openly disregarded in every particular.
Finally the Portuguese point to their highly-regulated system of repatriation. Sir Edward Grey and Sir Arthur Hardinge have emphasized that “one excellent test” of a desire for reform “will be the rate and method of repatriation.” Since the year 1888 some 67,614 slaves are known to have been shipped to San Thomé and Principe from the Angola mainland, but it is also known that a good deal of smuggling has been carried on. Then, too, there are some slaves born on the islands prior to the year 1888, and these are claimed as the property of the planters. At the same time the death rate has been very high and the birth rate extremely low, with the result that the estimate of the slave—or according to the Portuguese the Angola serviçal—population of about 37,000 is probably fairly accurate.
In 1903 a repatriation fund was established with the object of providing the repatriated slaves with a sum of money upon their landing again on the mainland, and there was a further complicated arrangement which could have no chance of being effectively carried out, whereby “recontracted” slaves should receive their bonus in 6 per cent. instalments every quarter. This was no philanthropic contribution, but actually represented a regular deduction of 50 per cent. from the “wages” of the slaves and serviçaes, until May, 1911, when the deduction was raised to two-thirds, leaving the labourer only one-third, and as most of the slaves appear to die prematurely, the benefit they receive from their “wages” is a negligible quantity.
From the year 1903, when this fund was instituted, until 1907 these deductions from wages were actually left in the hands of the planters. In December, 1907, they admitted to holding £100,000—a not inconsiderable capital fund for working their plantations. In 1908 the fund was transferred to the Government bank, but in the autumn of that year it had by some means, yet to be discovered, shrunk to about £62,000. After about nine years’ working this fund stands to-day at approximately £100,000.
METHODS OF EMANCIPATION
In Sir Edward Grey’s despatch to Sir Francis Hyde Villiers of November 3rd, 1910, he pointed out that public opinion would be favourably impressed with a “regular and satisfactory” method of repatriation. During the early part of this year 900 slaves were repatriated to Angola and 500 more were due to leave at the end of June. Probably, therefore, it may be safely estimated that since 1908 something like 2000 will have been returned to the mainland before the close of this year, but even so this still leaves something like 35,000 still in slavery. Though this “rate of repatriation” shews some improvement, it cannot be regarded as satisfactory in view of the fact that unless it is materially accelerated, it will take not less than twenty years to liberate the whole of the slaves on the two islands.
Turning to the method of repatriation, it is clear that this is being carried on in the most inhuman and barbarous manner. When we were at Benguella, the condition of the repatriated slaves was so distressing that we offered the Governor a sum of money to provide the miserable creatures with food and medicine. This His Excellency could not receive, nor could he allow the Curador to accept it.
The planters, realizing that civilization demands that “repatriation” should take place, are just now permitting it, but they are at the same time doing everything in their power to discredit it. There is some evidence that they are only liberating the sick and worn out, for of twenty-eight slaves recently liberated, whose ages were known, Mr. Consul Drummond Hay tells us their average age was forty-two years, and their period of labour on the islands averaged thirty-one years.
The Portuguese journal Reforma in its issue of August 19th, 1911, exposes in convincing language the condition and real objects of this so-called repatriation:—
“The greater part of these ‘serviçaes’ were put on board without being told what their destination was, and without any money.
“The first batches that came here had some money—one of them had 150,030 reis (£30)—but the last lots arrived without any; thus some were expatriated instead of being repatriated.
“These people did not bring a single penny, and it was through charity alone that they received food and shelter. Almost every one of these unfortunate people, who have done twenty years of hard labour, arrived in ruined health, and some of them died shortly after their arrival.
“It is probable that this form of repatriation is a stratagem which will, on account of the protests that will be raised against it in this province, enable the planters to argue that repatriation is unproductive of any good results, and that the truth is, as they have said all along, that people who have once gone to those islands never want to leave them again, well knowing that they could not find a better spot in this world.”
THE “ARRIÈRE PENSÉE”
The Brussels Conference of 1890 foresaw this danger and made provision for it in Articles 52 and 63. The latter stipulated that:—
“Slaves liberated under the provisions of the preceding Article shall, if circumstances permit, be sent back to the country from whence they came. In all cases they shall receive letters of freedom from the competent authorities and shall be entitled to their protection and assistance for the purpose of obtaining means of subsistence.”
Portugal was signatory with other European Powers to the Brussels Act.
Further evidence of the inhuman manner in which the slaves are repatriated appeared in the Portuguese journal, A Capital, of June last. The writer, Hermano Neves, reported that an officer on a Portuguese ship informed him that in one trip there were 269 liberated serviçaes, that of these unfortunate beings landed at Benguella only one was given any money; the remainder, unable to obtain employment and without money to buy food, were left to starve. “A few days later, there lay in the outskirts of Benguella, out in the open, no less than fifty corpses; those who did not or cared not to resort to theft in order to live had simply died of starvation.”
How comes it that in spite of endless “regulations,” almost every line of which boasts humane sentiments, and of a Government in Portugal which blazes upon the housetops its devotion to the cause of human freedom, these deplorable conditions prevail in the West African colonies? The reason has been advanced without any equivocation for years, namely:—the Portuguese colonies are out of control. Portugal may send a shipload of regulations out of the Tagus every week and the planters will welcome them—as waste paper. Some of us have said this for years and have suffered the inevitable abuse, but with the publication of the recent White Book, we actually find this contention corroborated by the Portuguese Government. Senhor Vasconcellos, replying to Sir Arthur Hardinge’s representations upon the abuses, admitted that:—
“The Governors whom he had sent out to give effect to its (the Government’s) instructions had been to a great extent paralysed by the power of vested interests.”
This is, of course, obvious to all those who realize the inner meaning of the fact that within ten years the cocoa islands have had something like twenty-five Governors. An admission of this nature by the responsible Portuguese Minister goes quite as far, if not farther, than the most extreme critic of Portuguese colonial administration.
The existence of slavery and the slave-trade now corroborated by officials of the first rank in London and Lisbon, supported by Consuls, and now by the Portuguese themselves, leaves no longer any need for unofficial persons to spend further efforts in an endeavour to establish the fact. Sir Edward Grey’s “beyond doubt” is in itself sufficient for the great mass of sane men. With the breakdown of the Portuguese regulations and the violation of international treaties, coupled with the Portuguese admission that their colonies are out of hand, what can be done to set free the slave in San Thomé and Angola?
BRITISH SUBJECTS ENSLAVED
The question is frequently asked what would be done if the slaves were set free. We are told that to dump down on the West Coast of Africa 40,000 penniless slaves originally drawn from homes in the far hinterland, might involve great hardship. We all agree, for we now know that thousands of slaves were obtained for Portuguese colonies from Belgian Congo, through the help of the revolted Congo State soldiery—a body of men numbering according to circumstances, from 1000 to 5000, who only kept up their rebellion by purchasing slaves with arms and ammunition from the Portuguese half-castes and natives. Again, no one can read the thrilling story by Colonel Colin Harding in “Remotest Barotseland” without being convinced that the Portuguese obtained many slaves from British territory. Lake Dilolo, the greatest of all the slave-markets, is but a comparatively short march from Rhodesia, and, in view of local conditions, it is inconceivable that natives of British Rhodesia have not been drawn into the slave-traders’ toils in that region. This feature has recently received an emphatic confirmation from Mr. F. Schindler, a missionary of over twenty years’ experience in Angola. He writes:—
“I have seen thousands of slaves coming from the Belgian Congo and Rhodesia being taken westwards by Bihean slave-traders and in some cases by half-caste Portuguese, and both by their tribal mark and by their speech I had no difficulty in recognizing them as belonging to tribes that are not found in Angola.”
How many of these slaves were, and are, enslaved on the mainland, and how many ultimately found their destination to be the cocoa islands, it is impossible to say, but we do know that generally it was the hinterland native which the slave-traders shipped to San Thomé and Principe. Moreover, some of us have seen these people of the Batetela and Kasai tribes on the roads and plantations of the islands, the cicatrized arms, legs, chests and backs plainly indicating their origin.
The first essential, therefore, is that of determining the countries of origin of the slaves on the islands. To whom can this task be assigned? Obviously not to the planters; it might be entrusted to a disinterested Portuguese Commission, but others have responsibilities and vital interests—Great Britain and Belgium would both possess, if not the right of membership, certainly the right to watch proceedings on behalf of any natives whom they had reason to believe had been obtained originally from British or Belgian colonies.
THE APPEAL FOR LIBERTY
The planter holds that the slaves are happier on the islands than they could ever be on the mainland; this interested and ex parte statement cannot obviously be accepted as final. The native, and the native alone, should be allowed to determine his, or her, destiny. I admit it is conceivable that a few slaves, for various reasons, would elect to stay with their owners, and no compulsion should be put upon such to leave the islands, but beyond all question the majority of the 37,000 slaves have a deep-rooted and a passionate desire to return to the homes of their birth. When visiting the cocoa islands in October, 1910, Mr. Consul Drummond Hay sent his interpreter amongst the slaves to ascertain whether they desired their liberty, and in his report to Sir Edward Grey says: “My interpreter went among the Angola ‘serviçaes’ and his inquiries as to whether they wished to be repatriated were mostly answered in the affirmative.” This, be it remembered, was said by the slaves on what are admittedly the show plantations. Take these slaves aside and engage them in conversation, and before many minutes have passed, the appeal will involuntarily burst forth, “White man, give us our liberty!”
Having ascertained the districts of Central Africa of those who desire emancipation and a return to their villages, it should then be the duty of the representatives of Portugal, Britain and Belgium, to see to it that their respective subjects are quickly and safely returned. Much has been made of the difficulties which would attend any schemes of repatriation, but in many quarters these difficulties have been purposely exaggerated. Given an honest desire to repatriate, the task would at once become simple. Take first the Angola natives. The Portuguese could, if they chose, send them back in batches of 50 or 100 for a given district; a body of such dimensions attaching itself to an up-country caravan, travelling under official protection and possibly with a small escort, would present too solid a company to permit of attack. Moreover, officials, traders and missionaries, might all be notified of such companies journeying from the coast and instructed to aid them as far as possible. The Lobito—Katanga Railway Company would doubtless be willing to give cheap passes to batches of slaves originally secured from the different centres through which its line now passes. It would be distinctly to their interest to do so, apart from humanitarian considerations.
We now know that providing the Portuguese Government would set at liberty the slaves originally captured from the upper reaches of the Kasai, the Belgian Government is prepared to send ships to San Thomé to carry them back to the Congo, transfer them to steamboats which would take them back to their homes, or at least within a day or two’s march. This journey could now be accomplished in less than a month, whereas several of the slaves obtained from Belgian territory informed us that their original journey in the chain gang to the coast had involved a tramp of considerably over one year. There is reason to believe that not only would Belgium undertake this task, but she would do so without requiring any financial return whatever.
The third and probably the smallest section of the slaves on the islands—British subjects—can assuredly present no difficulties. Great Britain could with the greatest of ease collect her slaves at San Thomé and transfer them to Rhodesia and Barotseland, via the Cape.
Portugal should be invited to send an international commission to West Africa, composed principally of Portuguese, but with a British and Belgian element, assisted by men experienced in the tribal languages and cicatrices of the hinterland peoples. This commission to be empowered to investigate the whole question and to issue freedom papers to all slaves appealing for liberty. In view of the advertised hatred in which the present Portuguese Government professes to hold every form of servitude, such commission might easily be appointed in friendly co-operation with the Powers primarily concerned. If this were done, the Portuguese Government and nation would at once merit and undoubtedly receive the warm appreciation and support of the civilized world.
A GRAVE STATEMENT
If, however, the Portuguese Government, after admitting their incapacity to control their West African colonies, refuse the co-operation of friendly Powers and maintain a system of labour which violates in several respects international treaty obligations, it is obvious that, however much Great Britain may regret it, she cannot continue an Alliance which may at any moment involve her in a position of the utmost gravity.
It would be idle to overlook the extremely serious nature of the statement made by Sir Edward Grey in the House of Commons on April 3rd, 1912. The Foreign Secretary then declared that the defensive treaty of alliance between Great Britain and Portugal, though it had not been confirmed since 1904, was, like all similar, treaties which, “not being concluded for any specified term, are in their nature perpetual.”
Thus it would seem that if any one or more Powers signatory to the anti-slavery clauses of either the Berlin or Brussels Acts, should awake to their clear rights and solemn responsibilities and proceed by any show of force to insist upon the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in Portuguese colonies, the maritime and land forces of Great Britain could under this Alliance be forthwith summoned to protect these Portuguese colonies against the “Aggressors.”
There are some things impossible to the strongest of Ministers, and the Portuguese Government must realize that the British people, however much they might desire to do so, cannot allow the continuance of an Alliance with a Power which by persistent violation of international obligations exposes not only herself, but her ally, to a defence of slavery and the slave-trade. Now is the time for Portugal to accept the friendly advice and help of Great Britain, but as Mr. St. Loe Strachey has recently said:—
“Either the Portuguese must put an end to slave-owning, slave-trading and slave-raiding in the colonial possessions which we now guarantee to them, or else our guarantee must at once and for ever cease.”
IV
THE FUTURE OF BELGIAN CONGO
Belgium for the time being is in the saddle, but for how long? Will she prove strong enough, wise enough, great enough to bring order out of the chaotic state of affairs into which her late ruler plunged the Congo territories? It would require a bold man to give an unqualified affirmative to this question. Cover several thousand miles of that territory, live for months with the aboriginal tribes, discuss administrative problems with Congo officials, watch the operations, and listen to the conversations of the German and Portuguese merchants—and a permanent Belgian control of the Congo becomes a matter of considerable doubt.
Belgian Congo, the largest single political division of Africa—French Sahara alone excepted—possesses land and climate of distinct features, and, properly administered, could pour into the European markets raw materials now demanded by many of our industries. The total area of the old Congo State was just over 900,000 square miles, or eight times the size of Great Britain and Ireland. A considerable proportion of the territory is covered by a series of gigantic swamps, with ribs of dry land and ironstone ridges dividing rivers and lakes. The whole of these low-lying territories are covered with thick forest undergrowth, which renders them impenetrable except along the native tracks. Throughout the Equatorial regions it would be extremely difficult to discover a single acre of open country, and in the territory covered by the Bangalla and its tributaries it is only with difficulty that even a camping ground can be obtained. Mobeka, the State Post at the confluence with the main Congo, was actually built by gangs of forced labourers carrying baskets of soil in an almost endless stream for a distance of nearly two miles inland. This post was formerly the head-quarters of the notorious Lothaire and it remains to-day a monument to the luxury with which he surrounded himself; the carved woodwork from Europe, the doors and windows, and general upholstery are indicative of the high favour, or fear, in which this gentleman was held by King Leopold. Northward beyond the Aruwimi and southward of the Kasai the character of the country changes considerably. The eternal forests of the Equatorial regions give place to rolling veldt or open plains. Instead of swamps and marshes there are hills and valleys, although, unhappily, neither fertile nor occupied by a virile or extensive population.
ECONOMIC EXHAUSTION
For nearly a quarter of a century the Congo territories have suffered from uncontrolled exploitation. Twenty-five years ago the forests were thick with mature Landolphia rubber vines. This species of rubber is of very slow growth and probably some thousands of the larger vines extend over 100 years. Scientifically tapped in the season, this great vegetable asset would to-day have been almost unimpaired and the Congo could still have continued pouring forth 5000 tons of rubber per annum to Europe. Nothing of the kind was attempted; the stores of vegetable wealth carefully husbanded by nature for generations were exposed to ruthless plunder, the mad scramble for rubber at any cost to humanity and common-sense denuded the forests. The vine growths of a generation were hacked to pieces, and even to-day millions of dead fragments of vine may be seen scattered all over the hinterland forests. Even the roots were not spared, for the unhappy natives, driven to desperation by the white rubber collectors tore up the roots and forced them to disgorge their stores of latex. Rubber is still to be found, but in much smaller quantities, in the Aruwimi district in the north, the Lomame and Lukenya basins in the east, and also in certain districts in the Lake Leopold region, but no merchant should to-day enter the Congo with a view to making money from virgin rubber.
King Leopold knew all along what the Belgian Government now knows—that the greatest economic asset of the Congo would have disappeared by the time the Belgians inherited the colony, and he met the situation by the issue of two decrees: one instructing all agents and Government officials to lay down rubber plantations round every factory, and the other promulgating heavy fines and penalties for the severance of indigenous rubber vines. The latter decree was generally treated by whites and natives alike as an instruction “pour rire”—a fact known and probably anticipated by King Leopold. The instruction to lay down rubber plantations happened to meet to perfection a feature in the system of Congo State exploitation.
In those early days—from about 1897 to 1904—there might be seen at every rubber collecting centre gangs of men, women and even children, chained or roped together by the neck, and these were the hostages which were being held by the “Administration” until a sufficiency of rubber had been brought in to redeem them. Generally these hostages were captured from amongst the old, the sick and afflicted, or even from the women and children, the object being to force the young and able-bodied into the forests to gather the rubber which would “redeem” the father, mother, sister or child.
THE CHAIN GANG
The question which had hitherto confronted the officials was that of finding work for the hostages, for the Royal Rubber Merchant was known to favour every expedient which would strengthen the faith of the natives in the dignity of labour. The instructions, therefore, to lay down rubber plantations exactly met the situation, and the thousands of hostages throughout the Congo were forthwith set to the task of clearing forests and planting rubber. This removed from the wretched hostages their last hope of prolonged liberty, for it became doubly advantageous to capture and retain them. The slightest shortage of rubber was a sufficient pretext for capturing more hostages and thus provide labour for the plantations. A perfect equation was in this way maintained—if less rubber came in from the forests, more hostages would be laying down this new source of potential revenue. Tongue cannot tell, neither can pen portray the miseries involved in the laying down of these plantations, but the sight of the suffering natives can never be effaced from memory. The Congo chain gang respected neither position, age nor sex, sickness or health; it held fast alike the old chief, the weakly man, the young girl and the expectant mother—a terrified mass of humanity trembling under the dreaded crack of the whips. The sentry overseers regarded them as the carrion of the Congo, for their relatives were guilty of the greatest of all offences, inability to satisfy the impossible demands for rubber. The infant in terror clung closer to the mother, as the woman winced under the lash of the whip. The young wife brought forth her first-born in her captivity and was left without any attention to battle with her weakness, or to succumb. To make a recovery was to resume her work of rubber planting within two or three days, with the new-born babe tied to her back. Darker deeds, too, were committed, and some rubber trees of to-day were literally planted in the blood of victims.
A writer, “Father Castelin,” greatly impressed with the wisdom of this undertaking, but apparently caring nothing about its tragedy of human suffering, estimated from documents placed at his disposal that the “new source of revenue” which had been bequeathed to the Belgian nation, provided 13,000,000 rubber trees. This “new source of revenue” could hardly fail to provide an annual return of less than two francs a tree, thus assisting the budget with an asset of more than a million sterling per annum. This alluring prospect so impressed the new Belgian Colonial Minister that he added to his difficult and recently acquired administrative task that of rubber production on a “business basis.”
When Monsieur Renkin introduced his famous Congo reform bill, it contained a proposal to extend the existing plantations by 50,000 acres. This in itself was a serious departure from recognized colonial principles in that it wedded the newly acquired colony, for better or for worse, to commercial undertakings. The whole enterprise from beginning to end is beyond question a miserable fiasco.
In our recent travels we have visited large numbers of these plantations. They are all of them characterized by neglect, the majority have been abandoned and are everywhere falling a prey to rapidly growing forest undergrowth. A considerable proportion of the trees, as if in protest against the violence which their planting involved, are now drying up from the roots. In spite of the millions of rubber trees planted in the Congo, many of these being more than ten years old, no plantation rubber has yet been profitably exported, nor is there any hope entertained by the officials on the spot that plantation rubber will ever be an economic success.
Inseparably interwoven with the exhaustion of the economic resources is the exhaustion of the people themselves and the break up of their social life. Stanley estimated the whole of the Congo population at something over 40,000,000. This was, of course, the merest guess, but probably the Powers at Berlin did commit to the care of King Leopold not less than half that number, i.e. 20,000,000. To-day the official estimate gives the total population at something under 8,000,000. It may be asked whether I should estimate that more than 12,000,000 of people perished under King Leopold’s régime. I can only reply—certainly not less. The only ascertainable data upon which an estimate can be based would amply confirm such a statement. Many towns whose population was known almost to a man twenty-five years ago have disappeared entirely, and there is not one town to-day but has lost over 75 per cent. of its population within the last three decades. There is one redeeming feature, viz., that since Belgian occupation there is some evidence that in several districts the appalling death rate and low birth rate show signs of regaining a more normal standard. This was the most apparent in the old sleeping sickness areas, for we noticed that wherever the Belgian reforms had been most completely applied, there the ravages of sleeping sickness appeared to be more or less checked.
SOME BELGIAN BLUNDERS
When Belgium annexed the Congo, she for many months retained the old Congo State flag; she still retains the sobriquet “Bula Matadi”; she retained, and still retains many of the old Congo officials, and finally she retained her interest in rubber. These indications did not escape the notice of the natives who are never slow to detect circumstantial evidence, to say nothing of the enlightening influence of the old witch doctor! The consequence is that the natives distrust the new “Bula Matadi” as much as they did the old one, for to many of them there is no visible change. Thus Belgium finds herself in possession of a colossal colony whose economic resources are exhausted, whose population has been seriously diminished, and whose native tribes everywhere mistrust her administration.
The foregoing features present Belgium with a problem not to be solved easily by the most experienced and powerful of colonizing Powers. International obligations, too, cannot but make that task more difficult. The Congo must still work out its salvation under the guardian eye of the fourteen signatories to the Berlin Act. It is still the duty of each of these Powers to “watch over the moral and material welfare of the native tribes.” Not only so, but the Congo colony is further restricted by separate treaties with all the Great Powers, which together provide a shoal of difficulties through which it will not be easy to steer the Administration without disaster.
The Congo territories, however, are not without assets, which, in the hands of a bold statesman, are capable of making Central Africa one of the greatest wealth-producing areas of the Continent.
The first asset is in the riverine system of the Congo. The main river has five large tributaries, each of which provides from 500 to 1000 miles of navigable waterway; the Busira, for example, 200 miles from the mouth gives no soundings at a depth of 1000 feet. Each of these in turn possesses numerous smaller, but still navigable tributaries. Altogether this fluvial system renders water transport possible for over 10,000 miles, whilst for large canoes and launches there is more than twice the waterway. I know of no district, no matter how remote from the great fluvial highway, which is removed more than four days’ march from a river bank. In some parts of the main river the width is considerably over five miles, and in others it takes a canoe nearly half a day to thread its way between the network of islands which cover the river between north and south banks. There is, however, the outstanding drawback that as a commercial asset the whole waterway is blocked at the mouth, strictly speaking ninety miles from the ocean. There the cataract region begins which has hitherto defied engineering skill. Between Matadi and Leopoldville, a distance of just over 350 miles, seven such natural impediments prove an insurmountable barrier to water transport. This distance is covered by a railway which connects the lower river with Stanley Pool, the upper river port. The line is undoubtedly a thing of beauty, but travelling on it is certainly not a “joy for ever,” climbing up almost impossible slopes, skirting ravines and lightly circling mountain ranges—a triumph of engineering skill, whose construction, it is estimated, cost a life a sleeper. Its 2 ft. 6 in. gauge and its miniature rolling stock are, however, totally incapable of dealing with the potential transport of a colony more than half as large as Europe.
THE CONGO RAILWAY
At present transport on the Congo railway is in hopeless confusion and the merchant is fortunate indeed whose goods occupy less than a month traversing that 350 miles, for the bulk of goods require six weeks to reach Leopoldville, the port of Stanley Pool, from Matadi on the lower river. When we were at Matadi there was still 1000 tons awaiting transport, a small task for European and American freight trains, but an entirely different matter on a line where we saw a Congo engine with twenty tons only in her trucks make no less than three attempts up an ordinary incline. The Congo railway, at present the only link between the ocean and the Upper Congo, presents to the Belgian Government a two-fold problem. The first question is whether it is possible to turn the whole track into a broad gauge, capable of bearing heavier rolling stock with reasonable safety—an initial problem of doubtful solution, and with it the second is coupled. If this line were practically rebuilt, at immense cost to the Belgian Exchequer, what reasonable guarantee has Belgium that for all time the French Government will refrain from constructing a railway from the seaboard of French Congo to Kwamouth on the confluence of the Kasai with the main Congo? Given such a condition, it is all over with the Belgian Congo railway. We know that many patriotic and far-sighted Frenchmen are seriously considering this proposition. Then, too, the French are great railway engineers, and I am informed that the physical conditions of the country through which such railway would pass are entirely good. If the French line were built, the Upper Congo would be brought at least five days nearer Europe for passengers and mails, while merchandise would probably save three weeks to a month in reaching its destination.
Even if Belgium provided an unchallengeable connecting link between the lower and upper reaches of the two fluvial systems, the Congo river is beset with political potentialities of no mean order. It remains to-day an international highway which presumably any five European Powers may, if they so choose, bring under the control of a five-Power river board of management. As an asset the Congo river is gravely depreciated by the topographical features from Stanley Pool to the mouth which place the whole Congo colony at the mercy of the Power which holds French Congo, and thereby the highway to the ocean.
Given security of control and also of communication, what economic future, actual and potential, is there for Belgian Congo?
VEGETABLE ASSETS
That rubber of the indigenous kind exists to-day in the recesses of the forest is true. This, as I have said, applies especially to the Aruwimi, Lake Leopold and Kasai regions, but only in comparatively small quantities. This indigenous product finds a sale to-day only because of the high prices which rubber has commanded during recent years. Many manufacturers are now refusing to touch native rubber at all, because it is so full of impurities. There are, indeed, many competent observers who state that when in a few years’ time the yield of cultivated rubber, coupled probably with a successful manufacture of synthetic rubber has forced down the price of the better qualities, then the common and impure varieties from West Africa will be driven out of the market altogether. Of the various classes of rubber, that of the Congo is probably the worst, consequently the future of the colony cannot be based on an exploitation of the indigenous rubber latex.
Ivory has in the past figured largely in the Congo budgets, but the ruthless exploitation of rubber had its counterpart in the wanton destruction of elephants in order to obtain rapidly every tusk of ivory. The old Congo State agents frequently sent out parties of soldiers in search of elephants; to these men ivory took a secondary place to “meat,” naturally, therefore, they cared very little for the ivory, and the results of these battues were frequently deplorable. I remember once witnessing one of these parties return with “meat” from two young female elephants and in the canoes they had also brought with them the dead bodies of two baby elephants which they had deliberately killed.
The two remaining products to-day are gum copal and palm oil. In the closing year of the Congo State the former was certainly exploited en regie, but mainly in those districts where exhaustion was overtaking the rubber forests. The latter produce has never formed any appreciable article of export.
Gum copal is to-day found in almost unlimited quantities in many parts of the Equatorial Zone and throughout the towns and villages the traveller meets natives everywhere engaged in its preparation. The gum taken from the upper part of the tree and near the surface of the earth is excellent in quality and much of it would easily command 1s. a lb. in Birmingham or London. The natives, however, readily accept 2d. per lb. but with any degree of competition prices would of course rise. Several companies are buying to-day faster than they can export.
Whilst passing through the towns, we were frequently assailed with the cry, “White man, won’t you buy our copal?” I questioned some of the merchants upon the possibility of an early exhaustion and was informed that in the Equatorial regions the exudation, if removed, replaced itself within a single season. My observation of some hundreds of copal trees in different areas leads me to regard this as a somewhat optimistic statement. It is certain that considerable profit can be made from the purchase and export of this virgin product, for at the rate now ruling it can be purchased and transported to Europe at an inclusive cost of about 4d. per pound.
Palm oil exists all over the Congo. In many districts the palm forests cover several square miles, but whether it can be produced at a profit is somewhat doubtful.
GUM COPAL FOR SALE, UPPER CONGO.
GOVERNMENT IVORY AND RUBBER, UPPER CONGO.
There remain, therefore, but two actual virgin products possessing any certainty of a future—copal, and the fruit of the palm tree; rubber can only be regarded as an ever decreasing asset.
What, then, are the potential assets?
OTHER ASSETS
In the mineral world there are some possibilities in gold, diamonds and copper, but all these are somewhat doubtful assets and contribute but little to the general welfare of the community which must rest primarily upon agricultural development.
Almost any tropical product will grow in the Congo, for the area is so vast that it provides land suited in one part or another to coffee, cotton, rubber, cocoa, hemp and corn. The product of the future will not be determined only by the nature of the land upon which a given article can be grown, but rather by the one that is most suited to the native agriculturist.
The real difficulty is that few Belgians seem capable of thinking anything beyond rubber on the one hand, and the native as a servile labourer on the other. Colonial opinion in Belgium and on the Congo itself appears to be firmly wedded to this restricted view of colonial expansion. This circumscribed vision can comprehend the serf, the labourer, or the domestic slave, but the free, industrious and successful coloured citizen, carving out an economic future, in which the State can indirectly share, is apparently beyond the mental horizon of most of those who at present control the destinies of the Congo tribes. True statecraft would have placed a halo round Annexation Day, making it one of great rejoicing throughout the Congo by declaring that through the action of a generous Administration rubber collecting by the State would from that date cease for all time. But through lack of colonial imagination this great opportunity for regaining the confidence of the native tribes was thrown away, and the Administration rehoisted the old Congo State flag with a miniature Belgian flag relegated to the corner, at the same time letting it be known that upon rubber production—the synonym of horror to the native mind—the future would depend.
The failure of the rubber cultivation enterprise is complete. Whatever the man in the street may think, the Belgian Government knows that Monsieur Renkin’s scheme for relieving the Belgian Exchequer has utterly failed. The twenty to thirty millions of productive rubber trees dangled before the eyes of the Belgian tax-payer exist only on paper.
Cotton has been proposed, but what possibilities has cotton cultivation, not only in the Congo but anywhere in West Africa, where it comes into competition with cocoa or palm oil? Cotton requires that the worker should toil under the fierce rays of a tropical sun; it demands constant attention if it is to be kept free from weeds and undergrowth, and when the harvest is gathered the native can never receive the financial reward which attaches to palm oil and kernels or to cocoa. In a crude way the West African is a careful mathematician, and though in his primitive condition he knows nothing about square yards, acres and compound interest, he can soon tell what products he can grow most profitably on a given piece of ground—and cotton is not one of them.
CONGO POSSIBILITIES
If the Belgian colonial authorities could divorce themselves from rubber and concentrate on cocoa they might yet turn the Congo wilderness into a garden. A few enterprising Belgians have already seen possibilities in the cocoa bean. Its cultivation is at present undertaken by the Belgian Government, the Roman Catholic Missions, and by a few small companies. The principal area is that of the Mayumbe, a compact territory between the Belgian Congo and the Portuguese river, the Chiloango; there are other plantations a thousand miles from the mouth of the Congo on the banks of the Aruwimi and also of the main Congo, but these latter are characterized by such neglect that no one regards them seriously.
It is difficult to imagine a tract of country more ideally suited to the cultivation of cocoa than that of Mayumbe. The hills and valleys abound in water-courses, the soil is good and the climate reminds the traveller very much of the Gold Coast territories. Some of the plantations run for miles along winding valleys, but the great trouble with Mayumbe is that perpetual nightmare—common to the whole of West Africa—scarcity of labour!
Within three days’ steam of the Congo, the British colony of the Gold Coast has solved the question of labour, has started an industry which gives the native producer a return of over a million and a half sterling per annum, has provided the European consumer with a great cocoa area which twenty-five years ago produced little beyond internecine warfare and jujus, and yet the Belgian Government has never even given a practical consideration to this unique example of colonial expansion which could so easily be applied to the Congo.
Rubber and cotton have but a small future in the Congo. Sisal, gold and copper have a possibility, but cocoa, the products of the palm tree, and any other vegetable oils, give promise of a real future, provided cheap transport and sound statesmanship are forthcoming.
An oppressive sense of hopelessness affects the traveller in the Congo as he speeds up and down those mighty rivers, across the numerous lakes, or tramps through the silent forests. He sees the possibilities of that land, the earth he treads gives forth an intoxicating odour of fertility. The tribes amongst whom he lives and moves are nature’s children and the little incidents of daily travel impress him with the fact that, given a chance, those sturdy bodies and stout limbs could turn Congoland into a paradise of affluence and luxury. Then, as he muses on these things and dreams of ideal homes and villages, and tropical plantations pouring forth exchange values of oil and cocoa for cotton goods and hardware, the practical mind, like Newton’s apple, comes down to earth again and weighs actualities and asks the pertinent question—“Can Belgium do it?”
The Congo demands large financial aid from the Mother country. This is a fact which has never been realized by the ordinary Belgian—and he might object if he knew. Even the British subject, whose colonial conception has grown with him from childhood, has very little idea of the large sums of money which are found by Great Britain towards aiding her Crown colonies along the path of progress. Belgium cannot expect to run the Congo successfully without large drafts from her home Exchequer; her colony, measuring nearly a million square miles, will require at the very least a million pounds sterling per annum for twenty years. Belgium can beyond question find that sum of money, providing her people are prepared to share the black man’s burden which their late Sovereign made so heavy. The difficulty, however, is that King Leopold and his entourage made such prodigious fortunes that the Belgian people have always regarded the Congo as a veritable El Dorado. The Belgian colonial authorities reiterated again and again, until quite a recent date, that the Congo would never involve the nation in financial sacrifices. Couple this impression, so wickedly fostered by politicians who should have known better, with the fact that the Belgian has no colonial conception, and the reader will agree that any statesman will have a difficult task in persuading the Belgian nation to make large and continuous grants from the Home Exchequer.
BRITISH COLONIAL CONCEPTION
The British conception rests upon a profound belief in the old scriptural paradox: “He that loseth his life will save it.” The Colonial Office in Downing Street does not, like its sister bureau—the Foreign Office—display texts of scripture on its ceilings, and the Colonial Secretaries might not in this material age admit scriptural guidance in Imperial affairs, but woven into the fibre of our administration is a basis of Christian philosophy which, though it admits occasional incidents of a regrettable nature, yet pursues in the long run the straight course of sacrificing men and money for backward nations and countries, quite regardless of consequences. The cynic will say, “Yes, with the certainty that the goose well cared for will lay golden eggs.” Certainly, but that is part of the Divine contract for pursuing that which is right. This, however, is what few Belgians understand—or any other colonial Power for that matter—but it is part and parcel of colonial statecraft without which tropical colonies at least can never be a success.
The financial problem, difficult though it may be, is the easiest of solution. That of finding the men is at present insoluble. This is, in part at least, due to another fatal error made by Belgium when she annexed the Congo—the retention in her service of all the old Congo officials. They are there to-day, many of them pressing on to higher positions in the colony. The fact that these men, trained to oppression by King Leopold and openly upholding the old Leopoldian conceptions, are still in high favour does not escape the quick-witted native, and of course tends to alienate still further the native and governing communities.
LACK OF MEN
There are, however, other dangers arising from this situation. These “old hands” are educating the juniors, and in the process are instilling into their young and inexperienced minds a dissatisfaction with present conditions and emphasizing to them that the older system of “teaching the natives the dignity of labour” was better all round. They are always careful to add “without atrocities, of course,” but what they cannot see is that the old Leopoldian system was impossible “without atrocities.” It will be readily agreed that when the burden of the Congo begins to make itself felt upon the Belgian nation these reactionaries—“Men from the spot,” “Men of long experience”—will find a ready echo throughout Belgium. Again, as in the financial position so also in the administrative future of the colony, the call comes for the really bold statesman, strong enough to break completely with the past and to clean out of the Congo these soi dísant administrators, who, incapable of appreciating colonial requirements, should return to their original employments of running music halls, tram driving, breaking stones on the highway, ’bus conductors, waiters, bricklayers, clerks, and so forth.
“How,” I am often asked, “could these men be replaced?” First, the very fact that such men are no longer in the service would undoubtedly attract the better families of Belgium, for it may be remarked that many of the merchant houses are able to obtain an excellent type of man. I asked some of them why they did not enter the Government service, but almost invariably I received this kind of answer: “What! join a service with A⸺ in it!” “What! accept a position under B⸺!” These replies were eloquent and convincing to one who easily realized how utterly impossible it would be for the better type of man to associate with “A⸺” and “B⸺,” their records being so well known in the Congo, however much they might be covered up at home. Here again is further evidence of the lack of colonial imagination amongst the higher officials in Brussels. If Belgium cannot find—as admittedly she cannot—a sufficiency of experienced men in Belgium, cannot she find them in France and England? She can find them, of course, in both countries, but hesitates to employ other nationalities for the higher positions, with the result that very few men are prepared to accept positions with futures “only for Belgians.”
A Scandinavian captain recently gave me a good example of the results of this folly. He informed me that a friend of his reached Stanley Pool one day with his ship after an up-river journey of three weeks. Arriving at “The Pool,” as the upper river port is designated, the then superintendent of the marine—who, it was openly stated, knew more about the manufacture of cheap pickles than stevedoring—instructed him to load up 90 tons of cargo and sail within three hours!
In vain the captain protested that it could not be done in the time, and the only reply he received was a batch of natives hurried down to bundle the cargo pell mell on board; they pitched the cargo into the holds in any order and the captain heaved up his anchor and got away as instructed “within three hours,” but the task of sorting the whole cargo at every little post over that 1000 miles’ run, turned a normal journey of two weeks into one of over a month. I cannot vouch for this incident, but it is typically Congolese.
The Congo territories denuded of their stores of virgin wealth, with no new sources in sight; the people decimated and disheartened; the Home Government possessing no Colonial experience, and still worse no Colonial conception; the local officials still firmly wedded to the old theories, constitute anything but a happy augury for the future. That Belgium possesses many men animated by the loftiest sentiments is beyond question, but mere sentiment does not meet a situation which requires a broad outlook, a large experience and real sacrifice both in men and money.
PART IV
MORAL AND MATERIAL PROGRESS
| I. | —The Products of the Oil Palm. |
| II. | —The Production of Rubber. |
| III. | —The Production of Cocoa. |
| IV. | —The Progress of Christian Missions. |
I
THE PRODUCTS OF THE OIL PALM
With the date palm we have been long familiar, the cocoa-nut palm likewise, and those too which decorate our ball-rooms, galleries and banqueting halls, we greet as delightsome friends, but what is the oil palm—the Eloesis Guineensis of West Africa? It is said that five thousand years ago its sap was used by the Egyptians for the purpose of embalming the bodies of their great dead. To-day by its aid we travel thousands of miles at express rate; it has been so handled by modern science that it enters largely into our diet; the merchants in Hamburg and Liverpool make fortunes out of it; millions of coloured people live by it, and yet it is barely known to the civilized community. A fortnight’s fairly pleasant steam from Liverpool brings the traveller in sight of the high red clay coast line of Sierra Leone, and there the oil palm first greets the traveller in all its luxuriant grandeur.
PROPAGATING THE OIL PALM
From Freetown away down the coast as far as San Paul de Loanda, the traveller is never far from the home of the oil palm—the most valuable tree of West Africa—probably the most prolific source of human sustenance in the world. She greets the traveller everywhere as he steps ashore; she invites him to the cool shade of her avenues leading to some hospitable bungalow; she affords a shelter at intervals along the scorching dusty track—as welcome as an oasis of the desert; she waves at him vigorously from the hill-top like some fluttering banner, or gently nods her graceful plumes in the still valley; she stands as sentinel on the outskirts of the native village, or like some giant memorial column on the plain. All nature strikes the African traveller dumb with admiration, but above all in entrancing loveliness the graceful oil palm reigns supreme.
To the parched and weary she is at once meat and drink and friendly shelter. Her palm cabbage and nut oil are no less palatable than her foaming fresh-drawn wine, and if no other home affords, her branches offer a temporary and not comfortless dwelling. She provides her guest with oil to lubricate his gun, with fibre to plug his boat if it springs a leak; her fronds serve as a weapon to combat the infinite torment of flies, or interlaced as a basket to carry a meal. To her the native goes for a tool or a cooking-utensil, a mat or a loin cloth, a basket or a brush, a fishing net or a rope, a torch or a musical instrument, a roof or a wall. To him she is a necessity, to the traveller a luxury, to the merchant a fortune, to the artist a subject full of charm.
AN AVENUE OF OIL PALMS, 10 YEARS’ GROWTH.
Professor Wyndham Dunstan has stated that the oil palm “does not occur thickly much beyond 200 miles from the coast.” Since those words were written we have learnt that whole forests of the oil palm exist over a thousand miles from the coast. It thrives throughout West Africa wherever the atmosphere is sufficiently humid, but it loves best of all the swampy valleys of Sherboro Island and Nigeria, the cocoa farms of San Thomé, the Gold Coast and the Congo, which are by it provided with the necessary protection from the scorching sun and from the fierce tornadoes which sweep periodically over the land. In the strictest sense the oil palm has never yet been an object of cultivation in West Africa, neither is it in the literal sense self-propagating. The housewife, separating the fibrous pericarp from the nuts, tosses the latter aside or scatters the residue on to the rubbish heap behind the hut, with the inevitable result of an early and vigorous crop of young palms. In the course of time the inhabitants of the village, according to African custom, pick up not only their beds, but also their huts, and walk, perhaps something less than a mile away, where they clear another piece of forest land and build up another village. The old site, thus abandoned to nature, is quickly covered with vigorous growth, but in the race for supremacy the graceful palms lead the way and become the communal property of the former inhabitants.
The screeching grey parrot of West Africa with its horny bill tears the oily fruit from the bunch, after consuming most of the oleaginous fibres of the pericarp, drops the nuts whilst flying, far and wide. These, in turn, add to Africa’s economic wealth, and thus do man and animal join in spreading through ever wider regions the growth of the oil palm.
Within ten years the tree begins to push out its bunches of fruit, beginning with tiny bunches of the size, shape and appearance of an ordinary bunch of black grapes. Some trees bear in eight years, and an earlier date still is claimed for certain varieties, but the fruit at this stage seldom yields any appreciable quantity of oil. From fifteen onwards to a hundred and twenty years, the palm plantations give forth an almost continuous supply of fruit, every tree bearing twice a year. In the rainy season the supply is most abundant, but in the second period, known by many as the “short wet” season there is a fair secondary harvest. All the trees do not, however, bear at the same time, and in many areas of the Equatorial regions where the seasons are not sharply defined or always regular, the supply of nuts is never exhausted.
In appearance a head of fruit resembles a huge bunch of grapes with long protecting thorns protruding between each nut, and a good bunch will contain from 1500 to 2000 nuts. A single fruit in appearance is about the size of a large date, and the pericarp is composed of fibre matted closely together with a yellow solidified oil, which fibrous substance envelops a nut or “stone”; this in turn encloses a kernel of the size and shape of a large hazel kernel, in appearance and composition indistinguishable from the well-known “Brazil nut.” From the fibre a dark reddish oil is obtained, whilst the kernels that are shipped to Europe yield a finer white oil.
COLLECTING THE NUTS
The almost universal practice amongst the natives in harvesting the nuts is to climb the tree by walking up the trunk with the aid of a loop of stout creeper. Arriving at the top at a height of sixty or eighty feet, the man deals a few vigorous blows with an axe which severs the bunch or bunches from the tree and they then fall to the ground. As the whole family usually takes part in the production of oil and in the division of labour, the man, having cut down the fruit, descends the tree, picks up his protective spear or gun, and returns home, closely followed by the wife and daughters, who transport the bunches of nuts in the wicker baskets which they have woven in their spare moments.
In every colony a similar process is adopted to separate the fruit from the parent stem. Until it is over ripe, the fruit not only adheres firmly to its stem but the porcupine thorns sometimes two inches long, make separation anything but a pleasant task. The tribes everywhere collect the clusters or bunches into heaps and cover them with plantain or banana leaves, exposing them to the sun for from three to six days, the effect of which is that the nuts, subjected to the hot rays of a tropical sun and cut off from the refreshing sustenance of the mother tree, lose their tenacious grip and readily drop away from their stem.
The methods adopted to force the oil from the fibrous pericarp differ considerably in the several political divisions of West Africa. Roughly, however, they fall into two divisions: (a) by fermentation; (b) by boiling; and in certain parts of the Kroo Coast by a combination of both methods.
The fermenting process is carried out by placing a large quantity of separated, but hard, nuts into a hole about four feet deep, this having been first lined with plantain leaves. In the regions nearer the coast towns, these pits are either paved or cemented inside and in some cases they are both paved and cemented. The nuts are covered up and then left for some weeks, even months, to ferment thoroughly. They are then either pounded in the pit with wooden pestles, or they may be taken out and treated in prepared wooden mortars.
The process of boiling is more expeditious. The nuts are boiled or steamed until the firmly coagulated fibre shows signs of yielding; then they are placed in an old canoe or large mortar and pounded with wooden pestles. In both processes, whether by fermentation or by boiling, the oily fibre separates itself from the hard inner “stone.” The fibre, which is by this time a tangled mass of yellow and brown, is then taken and squeezed, sometimes with the aid of water, through a woven press and a stream of golden liquid results. Sometimes loads of the oily fibre are thrown pell-mell into a large canoe half filled with water in which the children delight to paddle, causing the oil to rise to the surface, when the elders skim it from the top and carry it in earthenware pots for boiling and straining before sending it on its way to the market and the European consumer.
OIL AND KERNEL TRADE
The oil, however, is but one exportable product of the palm tree; the value of the inner kernel may be gathered from the fact that over four million pounds’ worth of palm kernels are sent to Europe every year. This kernel is encased in an extremely hard shell, which varies so much in size that until quite recently there was no satisfactory “stone” cracking machinery in Africa. There are now several machines on the market, but the old grey-haired lady of the West African kraal, with her primitive upper and nether grind stones, still makes by far the most reliable “cracker.”
“WALKING” UP TO GATHER FRUIT. WEAVER BIRDS’ NESTS ON THE PALM FRONDS.
HEADS OF OIL PALM FRUIT.
At Victoria, in German Cameroons, we saw an elaborate set of machinery for dealing in turn with the oily fibrous pericarp of the nut, and later, extracting the kernel from the inner stone. The latter process was that of a general crushing, then throwing the entire mass into a brine bath and so separating the shells from the kernels, which were then taken out and dried in the sun. This process, while being infinitely more expeditious, has the obvious drawback that a large proportion of the kernels are so bruised and broken that it entails a considerable wastage of oil.
The Palm in Tonnage and in Figures Sterling.
Exports in round figures for the year 1911—
| Oil. | Kernels. | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Tons. | Values. | Tons. | Values. | |
| French Senegal | 1 | 36 | 1,418 | 14,300 |
| ” Guinea | 53 | 1,300 | 4,500 | 36,600 |
| ” Ivory Coast | 5,800 | 107,100 | 5,340 | 45,500 |
| ” Dahomey | 14,400 | 254,100 | 34,200 | 400,000 |
| ” Congo | 125 | 3,100 | 570 | 7,600 |
| British Gambia | — | — | 447 | 4,758 |
| ” Sierra Leone | 2,902 | 69,930 | 42,893 | 649,347 |
| ” Gold Coast | 6,441 | 128,916 | 13,254 | 175,891 |
| ” Nigeria | 77,180 | 1,696,875 | 176,390 | 2,574,405 |
| German Cameroons | 3,000 | 63,000 | 13,500 | 177,530 |
| ” Togoland | 3,050 | 61,600 | 8,100 | 101,700 |
| Belgian Congo (approximately) | 700 | 20,000 | 2,500 | 40,000 |
| 113,652 | £2,405,957 | 303,112 | £4,227,631 | |
TOTAL OUTPUT.
| Tons. | Values. | |
|---|---|---|
| Oil | 113,652 | £2,405,957 |
| Kernels | 303,112 | £4,227,631 |
| 416,764 | £6,633,588 |
The proportionate output from the palm trees from the different colonies of West Africa is therefore—
| Square mileage of territories. | Tons. | Values. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| French | 992,000 | 66,407 | £869,636 |
| Belgian | 900,000 | 3,200 | 60,000 |
| British | 454,160 | 319,507 | 5,300,122 |
| German | 224,830 | 27,650 | 403,830 |
Production in figures sterling per square mile under the several colonizing Powers—
| £ | s. | d. | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Great Britain | 11 | 13 | 3 | per square mile |
| Germany | 1 | 16 | 0 | ” ” |
| France | 0 | 17 | 8 | ” ” |
| Belgium | 0 | 1 | 4 | ” ” |
Whilst the palm provides one of the principal exports of West Africa for consumption in Europe, its domestic uses are inseparable from native life. The fruit is used by the natives in many sections of primitive culinary art. Pounded with manioca leaves, Indian corn and red peppers, a savoury pottage is manufactured which is a universal delight. One of the choicest vegetables in the African continent is the pearly white head of the palm, which, in small trees of two years’ growth, weighs about 1 pound, but in trees of many years’ growth, may turn the scale at 56 pounds. The substance of this vegetable differs in appearance and taste but little from the Brazil nut, but when cooked provides a succulent dish not unlike, though superior to, sea kale. The natives cook this in palm oil, but Europeans usually prefer it boiled and served with a white sauce, or baked in a custard. To obtain this vegetable is almost invariably to destroy the tree, consequently it seldom figures on the every-day menu.
THE OIL PALM IN THE GRIP OF ITS PARASITIC ENEMY.
The Creeper at an early stage.
Root and Branch in deadly grip.
OIL AND WINE
Meat, fish and fowl are all of them stewed in palm oil, and, as African meat is deficient in fat, the palm oil makes an excellent and appetizing substitute. I once smelled a very savoury native “hot pot” which, upon examination, revealed a wonderful mixture. The liquid was golden with palm oil, and floating about, adding to the compendium of flavours, I detected bats and beetles, a flat fish “cheek by jowl” with a monkey’s head, caterpillars fitting themselves in with sections of field rats and parrots—altogether a stew delightful to the nostrils, at least of the African boys and girls who squatted around the huge clay cooking pot. The white man, though he usually has no keen appetite for native stews or pottage, lunches and dines off “palm oil chop” with as great a relish as does his Indian confrère upon “curries.” The “chop” may be fish, flesh or fowl, but it all goes by the name “palm oil chop,” which has a happy and almost essential knack in West Africa of hiding a multitude of “foreign bodies.”
No African meal can be regarded as complete without the addition of palm oil, and, as a beverage, palm wine is extensively though moderately consumed. This sparkling beverage closely resembles in appearance the “stone ginger” of civilization. The tribes on the Upper Kasai are probably the greatest consumers of palm wine in Africa. In those parts of the tropics where quantities of sugar cane are cultivated, palm wine competes with a sister product from the cane; the sweet and somewhat insipid taste of the latter being more palatable to some tribes than the sharp flavour of the palm wine. The Eloeis wine is the sap of the palm tree itself, extracted by various means, generally by cutting off the male flower-spike and fixing a calabash to the wound to catch the juice which is removed every morning. Another method is to remove the palm cabbage or head; yet another, to cut down the tree and “dig” a hole in the heart of the trunk, from which the liquid is then scooped into a calabash or earthenware pot. Europeans generally prefer the wine when fresh from the tree, owing to the fact that after a few hours it begins to ferment and loses its sweetness.
The oil palms of West Africa are taking an increasing share in supplying the temporal wants of both the white and the coloured man. It is safe to say that there is no tree in the universe capable of providing to so great and varied an extent, the daily wants of the human organism.
FINE HEADS OF OIL PALM FRUIT.
II
THE PRODUCTION OF RUBBER
Rubber has been known for the last four hundred years, but it is only within the last century, or little more, that it has been put to practical use. Civilization was for nearly three hundred years content with the historical fact of Pincon’s Indians of Brazil playing “ball” with crude lumps of rubber, and then it awoke to the fact that rubber could be used to erase pencil marks. In our boyhood Charles Macintosh had established its use as a protective from rain, but in our manhood the annual demand of Great Britain alone for rubber has grown to nearly 50,000 tons. We have lived through the sensation of a “Rubber Boom” which is only now commencing to exact its toll for the immeasurable folly of the thoughtless investing public.
The native use of rubber in West Africa as also among the Brazilian Indians, was first as an aid to merrymaking, in the form of heads of drum-sticks, and in that capacity evoked harmonious chords from the goat-skins tightly stretched over the hollowed forest log. How little these early Africans dreamed that this simple aid to the charms of music would one day deluge their Continent in human blood! There are to-day very few colonies in West Africa without rubber forests which nature—prodigal here as everywhere with her economic gifts—planted generations ago.
The discovery of the great West African rubber supplies dates back about thirty years, but it is a remarkable fact that Stanley in his books on the Founding of the Congo Free State, laid very little stress upon the future of rubber in the Congo.
In 1882 Sir Alfred Maloney urged Southern Nigeria to wake up to the possibilities of rubber, and in 1894 Sir Gilbert Carter, to whom our Nigeria colony owes so much, invited a party of Gold Coasters to explore the hinterland forests with the result that they discovered an abundance of what appeared to be rubber-bearing plants and trees. The native community then set about vigorously searching for rubber with the result that the “Ireh” tree was discovered, and specimens of its latex forwarded to Kew in 1895. Although it had been discovered in the Gold Coast colony ten years earlier the administration in Nigeria was apparently in ignorance of the fact.
There is some evidence that King Leopold received the first intimation of the almost fabulous stores of rubber in the Congo forests between the years 1888 and 1890, and the alert mind of that astute monarch lost no time in formulating plans for its exploitation in the Congo Free State, and what is less generally recognized in the French Congo also.
Since 1885, when the African product first made its presence felt in the rubber market, the natives of that continent have gathered and sent to Europe over 250,000 tons of rubber, the outstanding fact being that all this latex represents sylvan produce, the replacement of which is extremely doubtful. Dr. Chevalier is of the opinion that the natives themselves received for the total output 500,000,000 francs or approximately 9d. per pound. This I very much doubt, for it must not be forgotten that a large proportion of the rubber was obtained, if not for nothing, then for very little.
WEST AFRICAN VARIETIES
The principal sources of rubber latex are the Funtumia (Ireh) and the Landolphia varieties, which, to the ordinary reader, fall respectively under the classification of trees and vines. The full-grown Funtumia tree measures from 2 ft. 6 in. to 4 ft., or more, in circumference. The growth of the Landolphia is wild and erratic, creeping along the ground sometimes for several yards, then gradually winding its way through the undergrowth and away up the limbs and branches of the firmly rooted forest giants to a height of forty to fifty feet, then in the full enjoyment of light, it becomes vigorously prolific, sending its leafy branches in all directions, and interlacing the trees overhead. Most scientists seem to agree that it is only when the Landolphia emerges into the sunlight at the tree tops that material size is imparted to the main stem. From the economic standpoint it is important to bear in mind that ordinarily a Landolphia vine takes from ten to twenty years to climb its way up the tree trunk of the average forest tree, at which period the main stem of the vine is seldom more than one inch in diameter.
Beyond question by far the larger proportions of rubber from Central Africa have been obtained from the Landolphia vines, that from the Congo basin almost entirely so. Next in order comes the output from Funtumia forests of the more northerly latitudes, and beyond this a certain amount of grass rubber has been obtained, but the results barely justify the trouble involved.
The extraordinary development and almost general investment in the rubber industry have familiarized the public with rubber production. Almost every schoolboy could write an essay upon the herring-bone or half herring-bone tapping, coolie lines, spacing and so forth. The production of rubber conveys to most minds well-ordered estates of upright trees, model workmen’s dwellings, drying and boiling sheds, constructed by skilled Europeans, rolling tables, hot and cold water supplies, all under the control of neatly clad coolies. None of these conditions apply to West Africa, for there everything is to-day primitive.
The larger Funtumia trees are tapped in a very rough “herring-bone” manner and the latex caught either in leaves or in a calabash, and then transferred to a wooden receptacle for coagulation, but large numbers of trees have been bled to death through the almost incessant tapping to which they have been subjected. Funtumia more than any other variety requires carefully-regulated tapping, and it is well-nigh hopeless to expect the native collector in the hinterland regions to exercise that degree of care which the Funtumia tree demands as the price of giving forth a sustained output. The damage done to the bark alone in the rough and ready methods of extraction almost invariably renders the tree unfit for future tapping; the trees will live sometimes for a few years, but before long they perish. Dr. Chevalier, writing of the Ivory Coast, says: “Wherever exploitation has spread it has caused the adult Funtumia trees to disappear very rapidly. Some are cut level with the ground by the natives in order to extract their maximum yield, others, tapped too frequently, die standing, at last there remain only young Funtumia trees, under fifteen years of age.” This is true of the major part of the rubber-bearing regions of West Africa.
METHODS OF EXTRACTION
Several methods are followed in the extraction of the latex from the Landolphia. In every case that has come under our notice the vines were cut down with little thought for the future. Indeed in the upper regions of the Congo the natives sever the vine close to the ground and then tearing it from the trees to which it clings, they cut the vines into lengths of about eighteen inches and pile them into stacks so that from the severed ends the latex may bleed into forest leaves or gourds. Many of the tribes raise the stack of severed creepers upon forked sticks and kindle a slow fire beneath as they assert that the latex flows more freely and completely with the application of heat.
The whole process is beyond question most wasteful, particularly where the natives not only sever the vine, but dig up the roots, compelling these also to yield up their stores of latex. To-day as the traveller marches through the rubber forests of the Congo basin he meets every few yards little heaps of decaying vine from which the rubber has been taken. Frequently too, one sees overhead a tangled mass of dead vine which has withered away through the main stem having been severed. The natives were either in too great a hurry, or else unable to climb for those spreading vines which would often measure some hundreds of yards.
Another method is that adopted by the native tribes in the Kasai River of the Congo, and the Lunda province of Portuguese Angola. Whole families or tribes will make a temporary home in the forest, pitching their little huts on a piece of high ground near a stream. Every day the men will scatter in all directions cutting down and gathering the vines into bundles which they will convey to these little encampments.
The bark of the vines is then stripped off and laid out on blocks of wood, old canoes, boards, or trunks of trees, preparatory to beating it with heavy wooden mallets, which process gradually reduces the bark to a stringy mass not unlike shredded tobacco. It is then threshed with smaller mallets which in time gradually pulverize the wood element into fine powder, leaving “pancakes” of red rubber, about the size of a breakfast plate. These are then cut into thin strips, starting from the outer edge, and wound into balls, just as the manufacturers wind balls of knitting wool. This method though equally wasteful in collection, conserves the whole of the rubber latex.
Travellers in the Kasai territories of the Congo are generally first aware of their approach to human habitation by hearing the distant thud, thud, of the rubber mallets which is a feature of almost every village of that region.
CARRYING RUBBER VINES TO VILLAGE.
EXTRACTING RUBBER, KASAI RIVER, UPPER CONGO.
Hand in hand with the rubber work of the Congo is that of cane basket making, which the busy women weave in all sizes for packing the rubber, thus avoiding the heavy cost of importing “shooks” or barrels from Europe. Every year some hundreds of thousands of these light but very strong hampers are made for conveying the rubber to the buying stations and thence to the European markets.
THE FUTURE
The West African rubber problems of to-day which overshadow all others are those of exhaustion and replenishment. Are the forests denuded of rubber, and if so, is there any probability or possibility, of rubber cultivation to replace the exhausted supply? Both these phases of the question are difficult of complete and categorical answer.
For thirty years now exploitation has been running wild through the forests, and within the last fifteen years the rate and methods of exploitation have from every point of view been ruinous. The Funtumia trees have been ruthlessly cut down and even where tapping has taken place, it has been done at any and every season of the year, and in general practice tapped whenever and wherever the tree would yield an ounce of rubber.
Dr. Chevalier is of the opinion that the Funtumia will replace itself owing to the remarkable habit of self-propagation which the tree possesses. The light feathery seeds are easily carried upon every breeze it is true, but unfortunately there is little hope of preserving these young trees from crude and reckless tapping in the farther recesses of the forests. It is generally accepted that the rubber vine areas are being rapidly exhausted. Mr. Consul Mackie says of the Congo, “Wild rubber in districts in which it has been worked on an extensive scale, is now becoming scarce in places. Many of the large rubber zones have been worked out completely.”
We were informed by natives of the Kasai who were bringing in their rubber to the factories, that whereas ten years ago they had only to go one or two days into the forests before finding rubber, they now have to journey nearly a fortnight before they can locate any appreciable number of vines. Throughout the Equatorial regions of the Congo, the rubber vines and trees are so completely worked out that the natives have given up attempting to collect rubber and devote all their energies to gum copal and palm oil.
Most disinterested “coasters” will support Dr. Christy in the opinion that if the African rubber industry is to depend upon the wild forests there is very little chance of its survival.
CULTIVATION IN THE CONGO
Within the last fifteen years efforts have been made in various colonies to cultivate rubber. The most promising results are certainly in Nigeria, where the Benin communal plantations are proving so successful that villages in other districts are commencing similar plantations. Many thousands of Funtumia trees are now ready for tapping and some of the rubber obtained has secured 6s. 6d. per pound. Individual native farmers are now taking up rubber planting, and in Southern Nigeria we saw some well-ordered plantations under native control, one of which started in 1896 has over 30,000 trees and gives promise of a good output. In the Gold Coast the natives are interspersing Funtumia trees with their cocoa plants, under the instruction of Government advisers. In Belgian Congo vigorous efforts have been made for the last twelve years to cultivate rubber. In the year 1899 a Royal decree was issued requiring that 150 trees or vines should be planted for every ton of rubber exported, and in June, 1902, the number of plants was raised to 500. As a further incentive some of the Concessionnaire Companies gave a bonus to their agents for every tree planted. The ordinary Belgian being very keen on piling up his banking account the planting was pursued with vigour. As, however, the ordinance did not specify the variety to be planted the Agents of the State and Concessionaire Companies planted varieties good and bad, known and unknown! until on paper the total number of trees planted ran into many millions.
Every few months an Inspector was supposed to visit these areas, but as this official usually had an area of about 25,000 square miles under his control, he was seldom able to visit more than one centre every year. Badly paid, with little allowance for provisions, this man usually responded to the warm hospitality of his planter host, and generally did not make exhaustive inquiries into the rubber planting. On one occasion such an inspector visited a district after the Agent had gone to Europe, in order to “check” the trees and vines before the new Agent arrived to take over the stock and plantations. He asked me if I could direct him to one plantation of 60,000 trees and vines of which he possessed a neatly drawn chart. I could only direct him to where the plantation was supposed to exist, and he immediately set off on what I hinted was a useless journey, and as I expected returned in the afternoon without having discovered a single vine!
Apart from these paper plantations there are certainly several millions of rubber trees in the Congo, and every species almost has been tried. At one time the Belgian tax-payer was told that the Manihot Glaziovii was going to provide fabulous returns, but when the floods came and the winds blew, the spreading Manihots caught the force of the elements and toppled over in all directions like ninepins. The Funtumia was then going to save the Congo from financial disaster, but the “borers” took a fancy to the tree and this, coupled with the fact that in the Congo the Funtumia yields but little rubber, all serious attempts at the extension of Funtumia have been abandoned.
Hopes are now being centred upon the Hevea Braziliensis, but though many of these trees are of ten years’ growth the yield is equally disappointing.
In German Cameroons rubber planting is being pushed forward mainly with the Funtumia and Hevea varieties. In Portuguese West Africa hopes are centred upon Manihot and Funtumia.
The best that can be said of the rubber cultivation in West Africa is that it has not yet passed the experimental stage, and that there is some promise of success in the Gold Coast and Southern Nigeria.
RUBBER COMPETITION
There is, however, one other factor which must not be overlooked, Mr. Herbert Wright pointed out last year that cultivated plantation rubber would soon be arriving in quantities which would cause embarrassment to the rubber merchants. It is certain that when this happens prices are bound to fall, perhaps dramatically. The question for the West African rubber planting community to ask is: can they, when prices fall, compete with the West and East Indies, where labour is plentiful and cheap, and where there is practically no costly land transport. A merchant from the Straits Settlements once informed me that West African rubber producers must be prepared to compete with the East—at 9d. per pound. If that prediction should be justified by future events then West Africa will be wise to concentrate upon its trusty friends the Oil Palm and Cocoa Tree.
III
THE PRODUCTION OF COCOA
Cocoa to most individuals is suggestive of carefully and tastefully packed tins, or in chocolate form, of delightful little packages done up in neat silver paper and prettily tied with bows of silk ribbon. To others it means a welcome and fragrant breakfast or supper beverage. To few, indeed, does it represent anything else. The man in the street, if he thinks at all upon investing his savings in cocoa, argues that after all there is a limit to human digestion, particularly where sweetmeats are concerned, consequently he need not trouble himself about “futures” in cocoa for the field is at best a restricted one. It never occurs to him that the demand for every species of vegetable oil and fat is becoming more clamant every day. Somehow he never asks himself why Bournville, York and Bristol cocoa is 2s. 6d. per pound, and Dutch only 1s. per pound. He presumes, and if he tries it he knows, that one quality is better than the other, but it does not occur to him that there is something in the one beverage which is lacking in the other. The butter from the latter—the pure fat too expensive to eat, but not too expensive to incorporate in pomades for personal adornment, has been extracted. There is no more rigid limit to the demand for cocoa than to the demand for rubber; not only so, but nothing has yet appeared even on the horizon of our imagination that can take the place occupied to-day by the cocoa bean, both for internal and external consumption. This cannot be said with regard to rubber, wool or silk.
COCOA ON SAN THOMÉ. TERMITE TRACK VISIBLE ON THE TRUNK OF THE TREE.
COCOA IN CULTIVATION
The total world’s supply is to-day close on a quarter of a million tons of cocoa per annum. The East and West Indies and the great Amazonian Valleys, have for generations poured their supplies into Europe, but it is only within the last thirty years that West Africa has made her influence felt upon the cocoa markets of Europe. It is very difficult to obtain reliable evidence as to the colonists who first introduced cocoa to West Africa, probably the credit for it belongs to the Portuguese, whose love of colonization is everywhere evinced by the plants, fruits and grain which they conveyed in past years from one continent to another.
Given a humid atmosphere, a well-watered land and a tropical sun, cocoa will grow almost anywhere up to a height of nearly 1500 feet. Of such lands enjoying atmospheric conditions highly suitable to the production of cocoa, there are nearly one million square miles in the tropical regions of the West African continent. San Thomé and Principe, with less than 300 square miles under cultivation, supply to the world’s markets over 30,000 tons of cocoa every year; if, therefore, but one quarter of the potential cocoa producing areas of West Africa could be brought under cultivation at the same rate, there could be produced over 25,000,000 tons of cocoa.
To-day cocoa is being cultivated in the German colonies of Togoland and Cameroons; in the Portuguese colonies of Cabenda, San Thomé and Principe; in the Belgian Congo; in the Spanish island of Fernando Po, and in the British colonies of the Gold Coast and Nigeria. In all these the production has distinctive features.
From the standpoint of plantation arrangements and the application of scientific methods, the Portuguese in San Thomé are easily first. This no doubt is due to the fact that for over twenty years the planters have been concentrating all their efforts upon the cocoa bean. Throughout their whole area San Thomé and the sister island of Principe are under cocoa cultivation and the traveller never gets away from the sour odour of fermenting cocoa. A series of high hills and deep valleys with numerous rivulets represent the physical features of the islands. The hill ranges, for the most part, rise tier above tier, until they culminate in the Pico da San Thomé with an altitude of just over 7000 feet. The summit of the peak is seldom seen, for the island lies bathed in mists, which warmed by a tropical sun provide the ideal cocoa-growing climate.
The streams which flow unceasingly down the hillsides are scientifically trenched so that a continuous supply of water traverses the cocoa groves all over the islands, and the farms in the centre of each group of plantations all enjoy a plentiful supply of excellent water.
PORTUGUESE COCOA
The fermenting sheds are all of them organized in an up-to-date manner for which a knowledge of industries in other Portuguese colonies hardly prepares the traveller. Nowhere throughout West Africa are there such scientific and elaborate cocoa drying grounds as one sees on these Portuguese islands. The majority of cocoa planters in West Africa are satisfied with cemented drying grounds in open courtyards. The cocoa is spread out to dry and left in the open not only during the whole day, but throughout the night. On several roças on the cocoa islands, the Portuguese have, at enormous expense, fitted up drying grounds which are mechanically moved into shelter whenever a storm threatens. Doubtless it is due to the great care exercised by the Portuguese in the work of fermenting and drying that their cocoa is so uniformly good.
Altogether there are nearly 300 roças on the two islands and, with one or two exceptions, they are in Portuguese hands; there is a Belgian plantation, and one or two are owned by natives whose ability to make cocoa production a financial success is demonstrated by the fact that one who died recently left £6000 for the education of the children of San Thomé.
The cocoa plantations on these islands are all so compact and within such easy reach of the sea-shore that transport is quite easy. Both horses and mules live fairly well on the islands, and these, coupled with bullock carts and some 1500 kilometres of Decauville railway throughout the islands and running out to the pier, render unnecessary the porterage which constitutes such a problem for the cocoa planters in every other colony in West Africa. It is a melancholy thought that this industry, built up at so great cost to human life—both white and coloured—stands only a bare chance of permanence. The lack of indigenous labour, coupled with the absence of statesmanship on the part of the Home Government, can only lead to irretrievable disaster.
The nearest approach to the Portuguese systems of cocoa production is to be found in Belgian Congo, where physical and climatic conditions are almost identical with those of the Portuguese islands. The first plantations are met with close to the mouth of the river in the Mayumbe country, but before reaching the next one has to traverse nearly a thousand miles. These are situated at the confluence of the Aruwimi river and the main Congo, and there are besides several small plantations on the Aruwimi itself. As cocoa-producing enterprises, the only ones to take into serious consideration are those of the Mayumbe country, south of the Chiloanga—the Portuguese river, which enters the sea at Landana. The plantations are run under three separate interests, and may be classified as State controlled, Roman Catholic and Merchant. The merchants complain that their difficulty in obtaining labour is greatly increased owing to the missions and the State using forced labour for their plantations. It seems incredible that this should be so, but these complaints are neither new nor isolated. The Commission of Enquiry sent to the Congo by King Leopold had evidence before it which shewed that the Mission farms at least were largely staffed with forced labour. The following passage is an extract from the report of that Commission in 1905:
“The greater part of the natives which people the chapel farms are neither orphans nor workmen engaged by contract. They are demanded of the Chiefs, who dare not refuse; and only force, more or less disguised, enables then to be retained.”
If the Belgian Government could concentrate upon a serious development of the Mayumbe country by laying down railways, making roads, building bridges, opening up creeks, and rivers, there is no reason why the Mayumbe country should not increase its yearly output of cocoa by many thousands of tons.
The Spanish contribution to the world’s supply is not yet or ever likely to be anything material, for as colonists in Africa the Spaniards have ceased to count.
GERMAN COCOA
In German colonies cocoa growing is extending rapidly and from a financial point of view satisfactorily. The German Administration in the Cameroons, however, seems to favour such enterprises mainly as European undertakings in which the natives are mere labourers. Within recent years, probably in view of the success of the Gold Coast production, some effort has been made to encourage the natives by gifts of seed and young plants to lay down their own plantations. But the prevailing German opinion has been set forth in a German report, published in Der Tropenpflanzer (No. 1, January, 1912), wherein it is stated:—
“What is required in the Cameroons is a more liberal policy on the part of the German Government towards the plantations, both as regards the terms for acquiring land, and on the part of the district officials to obtain better facilities for getting labour, in order to warrant and make possible a large and profitable extension of the cocoa-planting area. This will mean a material improvement in the prosperity of the colony, for it is evident that what the Gold Coast has achieved by means of an intelligent population, and under suitable climatic conditions, can and will never be done in Cameroons with such material as the Bakwiris, Dualas, etc.”
Whilst colonial Germans take this view, the native certainly will never emulate the Gold Coast tribes, for the African has a habit of acting up, or down, to European expectations. The Editor of Tropical Life truly remarked that whilst these views are held in Berlin, “Germany would never do any good with the Bakwiris and Dualas; neither did she with the Herreros, and so ‘punished’ them because they, poor wretches, could not understand the German method of ruling Africa as do the German Michels at home.”
There is some reason to believe that the cultivation of the cocoa bean began in Cameroons and Victoria some years earlier than that on the Gold Coast, and it is even claimed by some that the phenomenally successful industry of the British colony was commenced with a seed pod obtained from Ambas Bay.
A ROMANCE IN COCOA
There is probably no single feature in colonial enterprise which can compare with the cocoa romance of the British colony of the Gold Coast. The honour of having introduced the industry into that colony is eagerly debated. Everyone agrees that it belongs to either the Basel Mission through their introduction of West Indian Christians, or to a certain native carpenter returning from Ambas Bay, or Victoria. Mr. Tudhope, the Director of Agriculture, is inclined to give credit to the native, but it must be admitted that the Basel Mission authorities possess the most circumstantial evidence in support of their claim. One of their oldest missionaries at Christiansborg states that about the year 1885 he saw the original cocoa tree at Odumase; another, that he saw this tree in full bearing in 1895. It is instructive to recall that the first export, amounting to 80 lbs. weight, was in the year 1891—that is six years after the original tree was seen at Odumase.
The missionaries, however, readily admit that soon after their agents introduced cocoa at Odumase, a native arrived from, the Cameroon colony and planted beans at Mampong. From these two centres, fifteen miles apart, the industry has established itself in every district of the colony and penetrated ten days’ march beyond Kumasi.
The organization is of the simplest kind—purely and solely a native industry, few of the plantations being large ones, none more than about twenty-five to thirty acres and the majority not more than two to five acres. We saw none owned by white men, although I believe there are one or two, which are, however, quite insignificant. The volume of cocoa which pours out from the Gold Coast colony flows almost exclusively from countless small holdings spread all over the hinterland. The farms are not so close together as those of San Thomé, but the traveller cannot walk many miles anywhere without passing through the plantations of cocoa and palm trees.
The atmospheric conditions resemble the Mayumbe country and San Thomé, the rainfall varying between 32.09 and 54.92 per annum, otherwise the territory is not so well watered as the Belgian and Portuguese possessions. In spite of this, the colony can produce a quantity and quality of cocoa that compares well with other areas. When at the Botanical Gardens of Aburi, we saw a plot of cocoa measuring one and two-fifths acres with 259 trees planted fifteen feet apart. The yield from this plot between October 23rd and December 31st, 1909, was 18,200 pods. Mr. Anderson, reporting upon this experimental plantation says, “Such results will not often be exceeded in any cocoa-growing country.”
In the year 1891, we almost see that Gold Coast native offering for sale the first harvest of cocoa. It is only 80 lbs. in weight and with the greatest ease he carries it to the white man’s store. To the amazement of his native friends the grower received £4 for that basket of cocoa!
Twenty years later the export of 80 lbs. weight has grown to nearly 90 millions. Since the day that the native husbandman disposed of his 80 lbs. of cocoa, the industry has never wavered. We were informed by white men who have been long on the coast that when the natives realized the value of cocoa there was an impetuous and overwhelming demand for seed until competition became so keen that a sovereign a bean was the general rate!
In 1902 the export had exceeded £100,000; in 1907 it had passed half-a-million, and in 1911 leaving gold in the rear of competition for first place it raced away beyond the finger post of a million and a half sterling. The whole of this, be it remembered, is a native industry!
The Gold Coast natives are justly proud of their extensive enterprise and assert that they will not cease extending their plantations until every acre they can cultivate and every man they can use is producing cocoa.
THE COCOA CARRIER
Not the least interesting spectacle in the Gold Coast is the transport of cocoa, the bulk of the inland produce being carried by porters to the railhead, and sometimes the roadways as far as the eye can penetrate are one long line of cocoa bags on the heads of hundreds of carriers. This carrying trade has produced an extraordinary flow of free labour into the whole hinterland of the Gold Coast. At Adawso, a buying station nearly fifteen miles from the railhead, one firm alone employs in the season over 3000 carriers who cover the distance to the rail station of Pakro once, frequently twice, a day with a bag of cocoa. The remuneration being according to the quantity carried, there is an eagerness to earn the maximum within the twelve hours of daylight. The men who leave by daybreak will return about three o’clock in the afternoon, often to pick up another load and carry it to the railhead, returning again by moonlight.
The carriers are mostly Hausas, but the fame of the Gold Coast carrier traffic has spread far into the northern regions of Africa with the result that recognized caravan routes now come right down through the northern territories. These carriers, many of them from around and even beyond Lake Chad, drive herds of cattle down to the Gold Coast colony about harvest time. They sell the cattle and then carry cocoa for the season. When the main harvest is over and there is little cocoa carrying, they will purchase loads of kola nuts which they carry back with them to the far interior and sell en route at a considerable profit. Thus they make a threefold financial return—on the sale of cattle, cocoa carrying, and profits on the kola nut trade.
COCOA DRYING IN SUN.
The transport of cocoa is chiefly in the hands of alien labour, and should the flow of this labour cease from any cause whatever, the cocoa industry would suffer a check from which it would take years to recover. The coastal regions are fairly secure, for most of the districts within twenty miles of the coast are reached by a daily service of motor lorries under the management of the European cocoa-buying firms. Many of the native farmers within thirty miles of Accra, however, with true African trading instinct prefer selling their cocoa at a higher price at the port of embarkation, and so have created the interesting system of “barrel rolling.” In the season these strongly bound and ponderous casks are purchased from the European stores, filled with cocoa, and rolled to the sea-shore. Travelling along the somewhat primitive Gold Coast roads one meets at frequent intervals perspiring natives struggling with the barrels which, filled with cocoa, weigh considerably over half-a-ton. They may be “holding on” to a barrel racing down a steep incline, or three of them straining their utmost to force the ponderous weight up a steep hill. Occasionally they come to grief, for we saw more than one cask which had fallen over a cliff into a deep gorge below. Generally speaking, three men will undertake to roll two barrels to the coast, the three concentrating their efforts upon a single barrel going uphill, while on the level road or down hill they control the two barrels between them. We met three such men who had rolled two casks for twenty-five to thirty miles, a task of two days, for which they receive 20s. per cask.
TRANSPORT DIFFICULTIES
The problem which faces administrator, merchant and native producer is that of transport. This threatens to become acute, for we were informed by a merchant who recently journeyed beyond Kumasi that large consignments of cocoa were lost owing to the lack of transport facilities. At the same time, given a fair price for cocoa in the home market, just treatment for transport labourers, the extension of roads and light railways, there is no reason why a single ton of cocoa should fail to reach the coast.
In the Gold Coast colony the white man occupies his normal position in the tropics—the connecting link or middle-man between the European manufacturer and the native producer. The Government very wisely endeavours to keep the industry in the hands of the native farmers and assists them by sending lecturers through the colony, whose duty it is to advise the farmers upon pruning, fermentation, drying, the danger of pests, and the general principles of modern agricultural science. With inherent instinct, the British Government recognizes that the real asset of the colony is the indigenous inhabitant, whose material and moral progress is not only the first, but the truest interest of the State.
The other British colony in which cocoa has a future is Southern Nigeria. To read the Government reports of ten years ago there seemed little hope that the natives of this colony would become cocoa farmers, or indeed that they would ever do much more than vegetate in the agricultural world. Africa is the land of surprises, and more and more the African is surprising Europe by exploding “the lazy nigger theory.”
The Acting Secretary of Southern Nigeria, writing his 1903 report from Old Calabar, said:—
“With every year that passes, it becomes increasingly important that new exports, indicating new areas of work and development, should make an appearance on the export lists of the Protectorate. That ‘Palm Oil’ and ‘Palm Kernels’ will ever cease to be the dominant products is more than unlikely; but these products demand nothing from the native in the way of labour that the veriest bushman cannot carry out. Portions of this Protectorate must be gradually turned over—and education may succeed, where persuasion fails—to the production of other commodities. It is not in the nature of the average West African to lay out capital for which there is no immediate return. He can understand the yam growing at his door; he can understand the cask of oil to be filled before his ‘boys’ can return with the required cloth, pipe, or frock-coat, but he will not sow for his son to reap; nor will a village work, of its own initiative, for the benefit of the next generation that is to occupy it. It is this difficulty that has rendered so great the task of encouraging the rubber industry. It is for this reason that cocoa and coffee have never been properly taken up by the natives themselves.”
This is just what the Belgian and German Governments are proclaiming to-day.
DOUBLING THE OUTPUT
At this period cocoa was just beginning to grip the native mind in Southern Nigeria; he had begun to “sow for his son to reap”; he had begun to understand something more “than the yam growing at his door”; he had in fact just dispatched 300,000 lbs. of cocoa to Europe. The very next year the Acting Governor was able to write: “There has been an enormous development in cocoa,” and the Southern Nigeria natives, as if in unconscious protest against the Governor’s 1903 report, poured into the European markets over 1,000,000 lbs. of cocoa beans! Two years later, the export had risen to 1,500,000 lbs. Turning to the Government report three years later again, we find that the export had again doubled itself, and was then over 3,000,000 lbs. “These figures,” said the Colonial Secretary, “indicate the extraordinary expansion that has taken place of late years in the cultivation of this plant.” Finally, turning to the most recent report, we find that the export has again doubled itself in two years, i.e. over 6,000,000 lbs.
The actual figures are as follows:—
| 1903 | 288,614 | lbs. | £3,652 | |
| 1904 | 1,189,460 | ” | £18,874 | |
| 1906 | 1,619,987 | ” | £27,054 | |
| 1908 | 3,060,609 | ” | £50,587 | |
| 1910 | 6,567,181 | ” | £100,000 | (approximately) |
It is somewhat doubtful whether this ratio of doubling the output every two years will be sustained, for it is considerably in excess even of the Gold Coast rates of increase. There are advantages possessed by Southern Nigeria which natural conditions deny to the Gold Coast—the heavy surf, and the lack of good shipping accommodation, tell heavily against the merchants and the native producers of the Gold Coast, whereas it is possible to load and unload cargoes in Lagos without their suffering any damage from sea water. Again, the cocoa areas of Southern Nigeria enjoy in the main a more generous water supply than those of the Gold Coast.
The general statistics of the cocoa trade, compiled upon the materialistic basis of tons and sovereigns, are not without interest to the man outside the cocoa community. For example, the Portuguese at present produce more cocoa on their two little islands of San Thomé and Principe than any other cocoa-producing area in the world. They produce from those 400 square miles of volcanic rocky land more than twice the quantity produced by the Republic of Venezuela with a tropical region of nearly 400,000 square miles. At the same time out of the eighteen cocoa-consuming countries of the world the Portuguese are proportionately the smallest consumers of Linnæus’ “Food of the Gods.” Another interesting feature is the growth of the British export from the West African colonies. Within ten years this has multiplied itself something like twelve times over, i.e. in round figures from about 2500 tons in 1902 to over 30,000 tons to-day.
Cocoa grows apparently with greater ease in West Africa than in any other cocoa-producing area in the world. The elaborate systems of manuring which seem imperative in most tropical colonies never enter the head of the West African producer. He piles the fermenting husks in heaps between the rows of trees and then when thoroughly decayed he throws the refuse round the base of the trees.
Insect pests abound, in fact it is seldom one sees a cocoa tree free from the tunnels of the devouring termite, and the bark-boring beetle too makes his presence felt, particularly in the German Cameroons, but in the great cocoa-producing colonies of the Gold Coast and San Thomé, the natives and the Portuguese are profound believers in the principle of “live and let live,” at least in favour of the insect world. The Germans, in all things scientific, have attempted to deal with the pest-ridden area by manuring with superphosphate and potassium chloride, and a largely increased yield is claimed for areas treated in this manner.
SPACING
In very few plantations that we visited was there any adherence to the wide spacing so strongly advised by expert agriculturists. The British Botanical Gardens of Aburi set an example by laying out experimental plots with cocoa trees fifteen feet apart, but the natives in that colony, and also in Southern Nigeria, ridicule this advice and declare that at such distance they find the rays of the sun are able to penetrate so freely that the ground becomes baked and the roots are robbed of the humidity which is vital to the growth of good cocoa trees. It is noteworthy that on Grenada and other West Indian estates, there is also a tendency to plant more closely than the experts advise. Neither in the Gold Coast nor in Southern Nigeria do many plantations give wider spacing than eight feet apart, and thus many of them crowd from 500 to 700 trees upon a single acre. The plantations in British West Africa being entirely under native control, there are no very reliable statistics upon the annual yield per tree. One official at the Botanical Gardens of Aburi estimated that the natives obtain about 7 lbs. of cocoa per tree per annum; this is a very high average, and I am inclined to think seldom attained, for in Trinidad the annual yield is somewhere about 1 lb. per tree. We visited one large cocoa plantation in Southern Nigeria, where a native had planted 100,000 cocoa trees about one-half of which were already yielding, and from the 50,000 he had obtained within the year 30 tons of cocoa, or an average per tree of a little over 1¼ lbs.
The most important question, that from which the planter is never free, is that of labour. The Germans put the labourers on contracts of twelve months with wages of 8s. to 10s. per month with food, but the conditions of these plantations are not likely to inspire any great enthusiasm amongst humanitarians or economists. The abject fear exhibited by the natives whenever the white man approaches is too eloquent to be mistaken, moreover the whip is carried by the planters as openly as a man in Europe carries a walking-stick. Whips and free contracts seldom go together. Under another section I have dealt with Portuguese labour which in the main is a system of slavery, although it carries with it a paper wage of about 10s. per month and rations.
COST OF LABOUR
The native farmers of Southern Nigeria and the Gold Coast employ a good deal of native labour and generally speaking find little difficulty in obtaining all they want. These native farmers, however, prepare their contracts somewhat differently from the European, generally they are for “twelve months of thirty working days,” and the wages vary from 15s. to 20s. per month, whilst a foreman will get 30s. a month. The labourers are free to go at any time, but those who complete their contracts to the satisfaction of the employer are usually given a bonus.
Cocoa growing is probably the least arduous labour in the tropical world of agriculture, as it involves less exposure and at no stage can it be called dangerous as is the case with copra, palm oil and indigenous rubber. The proportion of labourers employed varies according to the colony and circumstances. In the island of Fernando Po, the planters endeavour to employ one man per acre, but the restricted supply of labour seldom permits so ideal a proportion. In the Portuguese island of San Thomé, one labourer is allowed for each hectare under cultivation, but it must require a good deal of “persuasion” to get a native to control an average of at least 2¼ acres of cocoa.
Concurrently with native labour is the question of white supervision which is necessarily costly. On one cocoa plantation of San Thomé, with a total expenditure of £23,000 no less than £3000 is spent upon white control. Upon those Belgian plantations of Mayumbe which are cultivated by free labour, there is barely any white supervision, whilst on the Portuguese islands the proportion of employés works out at about one white man to every thirty natives.
So far as it is possible at the moment to forecast the future of cocoa production in West Africa, the British system alone rests upon a solid basis, for the obvious reason that all other fields are dependent upon systems of labour supply which have little chance of continuance, much less extension. The indigenous industry of the British colonies working in its own interests, unencumbered by the heavy cost of European supervision and the drawbacks of imported contract labour, will, under the guidance of a paternal and sympathetic administration, certainly outdistance and leave far behind in the race for supremacy such systems as those which prevail in San Thomé and Principe.
This virile British enterprise which is bounding forward throughout the Gold Coast and Southern Nigeria has only one real enemy—the concessionnaire hunter. Fortunately, the British Government is fully alive to the danger and is determined, so far as possible, to keep the agricultural land in the hands of the natives. If this can be secured without placing powers in the hands of the Government which would lead to widespread disaffection and unrest amongst the natives, then the cocoa industry of British West Africa promises to eclipse all other cocoa-producing areas of the world.
IV
THE PROGRESS OF CHRISTIAN MISSIONS
The day has gone by when the world could dismiss Christian missions in West Africa with a contemptuous sneer, for Christian missionary effort with its eloquent facts, definitely established, can no longer be ignored. Of all the forces which have made for real progress in West Africa, Christianity stands some say first, others second, but none can place it last. To it belongs primarily in point of time at least, the economic prosperity of the Gold Coast. To it belongs, almost entirely, the credit for the native clerks and educated men on the coast. To it the natives owe their knowledge of useful crafts. To one section of the Christian Church at least belongs the honour of having on the spot saved the Congo natives from extirpation.
Whilst all missions have much in common, the investigator cannot but observe the fact that administrators and commercial men alike will, in the majority of cases, hold in a measure of contempt the Protestant missionary, whilst they esteem highly his Catholic brethren. One searches for a reason for this attitude, which can neither be found in the devotion of the missionary—for heroes abound in both sections—nor is it to be found in the character and success of their respective missionary labours, for in this particular both sections are witnessing encouraging results. The only answer which the administrator and trader will give is that Father O’Donnell is “a good fellow.” It is difficult to escape from the conclusion that the good father is more “diplomatic” than his bluff and somewhat puritanical Protestant confrère. The Protestant missionaries with greater freedom than that allowed to the Catholic Fathers, criticize administrations, report abuses, and generally give any form of oppression or iniquity a quick, even reckless exposure. The colossal crime of the Congo was exposed on the spot almost entirely by the Protestant missionaries, although far outnumbered by the Catholics. In the French Congo are established several Roman Catholic Orders, yet hardly a priest has raised his voice against the atrocities committed there. The slavery of Angola and San Thomé has been exposed primarily by Protestants, the priests standing by and for the most part content to witness the traffic in human beings without a protest. I do not condemn, but merely state facts. I know too well how the sufferings of native tribes have appealed to generous members of the Roman Catholic Church, but no review of Christian missions in West Africa would be honest or complete without some reference to this fundamental difference between the two great sections of the Christian Church.
MISSIONARIES AND ABUSES.
My chief reason, however, for calling attention to this feature is that the antipathy towards Christian missionaries is hardly likely to become less marked in the near future. The great changes which are taking place may precipitate a grave situation within the next twenty years. The attitude of administrators is no longer the benevolent tutelage of native races. There is an increasing autocracy in most colonies; the martial spirit with its harsh regulations and rigorous discipline, so out of place in nature’s calm paradise, is permeating every department of affairs. This spirit brooks no opposition, knows no sympathy, and sometimes even forgets justice. It blows hot or cold, where and when it listeth, but it tends always towards menacing native peace and progress. High-minded Christian men must be driven by this restless spirit into an increasingly resolute defence of their native communities.
Commercial methods, too, are undergoing a still more far-reaching change. As I have already pointed out, the old-time merchant is giving place to the highly organized syndicate, which possesses neither heart nor conscience and is generally strong enough in influence at home and power abroad to menace any administration, and, if necessary, threaten the various Governments in two, three and even more countries at one time. The missionary, bold in his isolation, knowing no higher earthly authority than his highly tempered conscience, willing, if need be, to suffer any extremity, is bound to find himself more and more in conflict with the exploiting energy of these vigorous dividend seekers. This conflict is of course an excellent tonic for the Church, but it makes the lot of these isolated men and women in Central Africa very much harder to bear.
The forces of Christianity have not yet made much headway in the far hinterland of the Sierra Leone Protectorate, the northern territories of the Gold Coast, nor in Northern Nigeria. In the Sierra Leone colony, where slaves liberated during a period of fifty years were dumped down as they were released by British battleships, Christianity has permeated fairly completely the life and habits of the people; nearly two-thirds of the population are nominally Christian, whilst the Mohammedans number less than one-tenth. In the Gold Coast the traveller may witness some of the most effective missionary work in West Africa. The Basel Mission alone has over 30,000 adherents who find about £5000 a year towards mission expenses. Another notable fact is that the natives have invested in the Mission Savings Bank over £23,000, a sum considerably in excess of the amount deposited with the Government. As was the attitude towards the Quaker bankers of Puritan England, the Christian community of the Gold Coast is regarded by the natives as the safest repository for the wealth of both worlds.
CHRISTIANITY AND MOHAMEDANISM
In Southern Nigeria Christian missionaries find themselves confronted with a firmly entrenched Mohammedan community. Something over fifty per cent. of the population is Mohammedan, and that of a most attractive order. None can meet the leading Mohammedans of that colony without being impressed with their simple piety and their tenacity to what they regard as their invincible faith. Officialdom opposes the advance of the emissaries of Christianity in the more northerly territory, on the ground of trouble with the Moslem community. This attitude is regarded by most Mohammedans as anything but a compliment to their religious faith, holding firmly as they do that the Koran is powerful enough to withstand all the assaults of another creed. Below Nigeria, that is south-east of the Niger delta, Mohammedan influence is left behind, and Christianity is confronted with simple paganism. Not the bloodthirsty and strongly entrenched barbaric paganism which confronted Livingstone in East Africa, Ramseyer at Kumasi, Hannington in Uganda, and Grenfell in the Congo, but a paganism so broken by the forces of civilization, so rent and riven by internal mistrust, that the masses of the people are crying out: “Who will show us any good?”
Efforts to win West Central Africa to Christianity divide themselves into two periods. The first effective efforts were made by the Portuguese and Dutch settlers in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The first period was almost exclusively due to Roman Catholic zeal, which, under the blessing of the Pope, regarded the tropics as a preserve of the Vatican. The nineteenth century witnessed but little advance, until Livingstone’s enthusiasm and his romantic career lighted a flame which spread throughout the civilized world, and Protestantism, awaking to its opportunity, began to pour missionaries into the tropical regions of West Africa. The Basel Mission attempted the Gold Coast, and its first missionaries perished to a man; the Church Missionary Society pushed on its work from Sierra Leone away up the Niger, where men and women did little more for a time than replace the dead and dying; the Methodists, never behind any other denomination in enthusiasm, began work in Sierra Leone, Calabar, and the islands of the Gulf of Guinea; the Baptists established an excellent mission in the Cameroons, where they were “elbowed out” by the Germans, and at a later date commenced their great work in the Congo.
RELIC WORSHIP
Little remains in the social life of Africa as a result of the work of the early Roman Catholic missionaries. The tribes have no settled church organization based upon the devoted efforts of three centuries ago. Ruins may be seen in several parts and extremely interesting ones too. On the islands of San Thomé and Principe, we frequently saw the partial structure of churches, one of which must have been erected very early in the sixteenth century, for a tomb close to the chancel, grey with age and moss grown, was dated 1542. If the colonists of San Thomé were zealous slavers, they certainly gave much of their ill-gotten gain to the erection of churches. Fragments of these edifices are lying about in the tropical undergrowth and an examination will show that marble pillars, façades, altars, even common stone, had been gathered from the four corners of the earth to build ornate “Houses of God” on these isolated rocks in the Gulf of Guinea. Visiting one of these ruins we were struck by the pathetic reverence with which the natives regarded those crumbling walls; the priest had long since died, and there was none to lead those almost hopeless souls along the path of religious faith. Standing inside those four walls, gazing at the broken altar and the creeper-clad walls, we were forced to keep our heads covered, for the ruin had lost its roof generations before, and the equatorial sun was pouring its direct rays upon us. Directing a question to some of the natives standing near by, we were amazed to find that they refused to answer; two or three times we repeated our questions, but they all maintained immovable positions and refused to utter a single word. A man close at my elbow then informed me that no native could reply whilst the white man kept his hat on his head in the House of God! The silent rebuke of those simple natives forced us to leave the precincts of the old ruin and pass into the little chapel which still remains more or less watertight. Into this place, not more than ten feet square, the natives had moved the images of the Virgin and Apostles, and in the centre of the room a native palm oil lamp sent forth its unpleasant odour. This lamp was half African fetish and half salvation to those natives, for their worship had degenerated into a sort of corrupt Zoroastrianism, and the Alpha and Omega of their religion seemed to be the uninterrupted burning of this light. They were most insistent that since the foundation of the church, between 1500 and 1530, the light had never been allowed to go out!
This, however, was but one testimony to the relic worship of the slave islands. Along the roadsides, in secluded corners of out of the way roças, nestling in plantain groves, the traveller may see miniature chapels constructed from rustic forest tree branches, very similar to the fetish houses of the mainland of Africa. In most of these one also sees little prayer-stools, and in all of them a rude cross roughly cut out with the native axe and the cross pieces bound together with forest vines. Most of these crosses are surrounded by native pagan charms, and thus all that is least essential in Christianity is joined together in native religious fervour with the superstitions of paganism, and this gives a melancholy impression of the result of the years of toil and sacrifice by men and women devoted to the theory of the Christian Faith.
ICHABOD
Ichabod is written along every roadside and in every ruined chapel; the very images in decay seem to utter the word, and the mind is compelled to recall the fact that Christianity in creed only, without Christian practice, is foredoomed. Surely the curse of the miserable slaves of generations ago rests upon everything on those islands; by their agony and bloody sweat they toiled to erect those magnificent churches, the crack of the whip on the slave plantations extorted the gold which purchased the images of the Virgin, to add lustre to countless churches and to purchase images of the compassionate Christ for the cross roads and public places. One wonders what all this parade meant to the slaves at the time. They have long ceased to suffer the bonds of slavery, or the crack of the whip; those slaves whose toil built the churches and bought the crucifixes have gone, and though decay everywhere marks the one-time existence of an unholy Christianity, one element remains and flourishes—a slavery, without any hope beyond that which may be inspired by the hybrid of effete Christianity wedded to African superstition.
THE CRUCIFIX IN AFRICAN FETISH HUT ON THE ISLAND OF SAN THOMÉ.
RUIN OF ONCE IMPOSING CHURCH ON THE ISLAND OF PRINCIPE.
The results accruing to the second period of Christian propaganda have the unmistakable signs of a vitality which will revolutionize Central Africa. Whilst purely missionary zeal centres itself upon the heroic figure of Livingstone, recognition must be given to Henry Stanley, and also—though one hesitates to couple the name with these two heroes—to King Leopold. Looking back upon African history, one fact emerges above all others, that the work of Livingstone and Stanley together had created an international interest in the position of the peoples and the possibilities of the countries in those regions. This condition observed by King Leopold, his master mind promptly seized and exploited it. The crafty Belgian monarch saw that by preaching Christianity and civilization for the African, his long-awaited opportunity for colonial expansion and a place in history would be gratified,—a place in history he has that none assuredly will envy; his people, too, possess a colony, and though they do not see it to-day, they will yet heap their curses upon the sovereign who has fastened the millstone round their necks.
The labours of Livingstone, Stanley, and King Leopold, culminated in the Conference of Berlin, which was unique in that it had for its programme not only the interests of honest commercial expansion, the suppression of the slave-trade, the sale of arms, ammunition and alcohol, but also that of stimulating Christian missionary propaganda, and by its subsequent treaty, missionaries were encouraged to win pagan tribes from barbarism. The immensity of the area which by this historic event was thrown open under international stimulus to the forces of Christianity is not generally realized. The Congo basin extends far beyond the boundaries of the Belgian colony. Its northern frontier reaches the tributaries of the Niger and the Nile, while its eastern border includes a large section of German East Africa, and in the south and west larger areas still of both British Central Africa and Portuguese Angola come under the operations of the Act of Berlin. In and around this great pagan area, almost as large as the European continent, the forces of Christianity have within the last half century been concentrating their energies.
Christian effort in these regions is confined to no single country, and is the monopoly of no single denomination. Great Britain, America, Germany, Sweden, and France have all found devoted men and women, and have all poured forth most generously the necessary funds. Anglicans, Roman Catholics, Free Churchmen, and Lutherans, have all taken their share, selecting spheres which for various reasons they considered themselves best able to manage.
The character of the work, however, differs considerably. At first Protestant missions revolted against the idea of industrial missions; they had, and it must be admitted they still have, a constitutional objection against anything which provides a “return.” It is difficult to find a reason for this, but probably it is due to a revulsion from the practices of Pizarro and his miscreants in Peru, and of the slave-dealing work of the Portuguese, in which the Church of Rome became so deeply involved. This dislike for any other work than that of simple preaching and teaching left to the Roman Catholics the whole field of industrial enterprise and right splendidly they have occupied it. There are many separate features which one dislikes, but looked upon as a complete work the Roman Catholic missionaries are rendering noble service to stable progress. I shall not readily forget visits to their farms on the Congo; to their admirable outfitting, printing, house-building, and wheelwright departments of German Togoland. In Lome we saw a score of lads learning bootmaking under the patient tuition of a lay brother. In the tailoring shop another score were cutting out and making suits of every description, from the cheap 20-mark ducks to the 150-mark dress suit to which the superintending Father was putting finishing touches—and made for a native too!
If in earlier years Protestant missions hesitated to engage in remunerative industrial pursuits, they scored heavily over their Catholic confrères, and continue to score, in medical work. It was at first difficult to make the native see the advisability of even comparative cleanliness, for ablutions of any kind are, with many natives, a degrading practice only fitted for the effeminate white race. “What! I wash?” exclaimed an old chief to us in horror-stricken tones, when once I asked him to take a journey to the river before sitting near our table. However, as he proceeded to do a worse thing—scrape himself—I withdrew and apologized for the insulting suggestion! There is some hope that the medical fraternity will in time bring the natives to realize the value of the bountiful streams which God has given them, though they may retort that the devil has filled them with crocodiles.
THE MEDICAL MISSION
It is, however, certain that the tribes of Africa are beginning to value the generous and devoted medical work of the Protestant missionaries. Journeying up the Congo one day we had on board a chieftain who three months before had left his village for an operation at a mission station hundreds of miles below his home. The senior missionary in this man’s district had persuaded him to take the journey and run the risk. The man had been bedridden for years with an elephantiasis growth; his wives had forsaken him and most of his friends had abandoned him. He had long given an obstinate refusal to the missionary’s proposal, but ultimately he was prevailed upon to make the journey to the distant mission post. The day for departure came, and with it funeral-loving friends, and weeping women who made the track echo with a monotonous death wail as the man was carried on board the steamer,—never, as they believed, to return alive. Two months later the man had come through the operation and seemed to be in perfect health. He boarded the steamer in full vigour, carrying his own box and sundry goods which the travelling native collects from the long-lost brothers and cousins whom they have a habit of discovering in every town. After three weeks’ steam, we were nearing the chieftain’s home; what a dressing of the hair and anointing of the body took place during several hours before the village itself was sighted! Within hail, lusty voices shouted to the villagers that their chief was aboard and was well and strong. The cry passed from lip to lip until the beach was lined with incredulous natives, the most hopeful amongst them anticipating nothing better than that the man would be carried ashore. Fifteen minutes later the ship was at anchor, the “gangway” run ashore and lo! the first man to stride off the ship was the erstwhile bedridden chief! It was too much for the majority who promptly took to their heels and bolted to a safe distance! In a few minutes, however, they realized that it was not a spirit, but the real man returned alive and well. Gradually they surrounded him, questioned him, gesticulated excitedly, rang the drums to inform the countryside that so great a miracle had taken place, and generally made such a din and noise that it was only with difficulty conversation became at all possible. That sort of sermon is far more eloquent to the native than many discourses on Christian ethics preached with the inevitable limitations of a foreign tongue and at the best often misunderstood; moreover, it renders him very receptive to Christian teaching.
MISSIONARIES AND OPPRESSION
The advantage of medical work in Protestant missionary propaganda has indeed been great. But it does not stand alone, for the natives have of recent years witnessed and wondered at another spectacle—to them no less miraculous—white man opposing white man on their behalf. It is a grave misfortune to Christianity, and to the Roman Catholic missionaries themselves, that they have hitherto been unable to make common cause with their Protestant brethren in protecting natives from oppression. There is, however, some hope that this feature is passing away and that the future will witness their co-operation with those who fight and struggle for native freedom, for at present the prestige which accrues to the championship of native rights belongs almost exclusively to the Protestant communities. How powerfully this has operated was brought out in the report of the Commissioners, whom King Leopold was compelled to send to the Congo, in 1904. Writing in this connection, Monsieur Janssens and his Committee said:—
“Often, also, in the regions where evangelical stations are established, the native, instead of going to the magistrate, his natural protector, adopts the habit, when he thinks he has a grievance against an agent or an Executive officer, to confide in the missionary. The latter listens to him, helps him according to his means, and makes himself the echo of all the complaints of a region. Hence the astounding influence which the missionaries possess in some parts of the territory. It exercises itself not only among the natives within the purview of their religious propaganda, but over all the villages whose troubles they have listened to. The missionary becomes, for the native of the region, the only representative of equity and justice; he adds to the ascendency acquired from his religious zeal the prestige which, in the interest of the State itself, should be invested in the magistrates.”
Without doubt the advent of the late King Leopold as an Administrator in Central African affairs was a calamity almost impossible to exaggerate and had his influence continued it would sooner or later have overrun the surrounding territories administered respectively by Britain, France, and Germany. That they indeed suffered contamination was only too clearly demonstrated in the case of French Congo, while German Cameroons was not altogether free from the Leopoldian taint. On the Congo itself, the very name of white man was made to stink in the nostrils of the native tribes for all time, by reason of the enormities in which King Leopold figured as the chief actor. But even that wily monarch outwitted himself; by his protestations of Christianity and Philanthropy he was bound by the clauses of the Berlin and Brussels Acts to countenance and encourage missionary enterprise, and in practice to admit to the vast regions of the Congo Valley the Heralds of the Cross. And this was his undoing, for thereby came those exposures of almost incredible abuses, which shocked the civilized world, and branded the arch culprit for all time as a murderer of millions. The same fatal blunder in his diplomacy worked on the spot salvation for the remnant of the people. They flocked from all quarters to the protection of the missionary, who was to them the personification of justice.
THE “INGLEZA”
What wonder that the word “Ingleza” (English) became a passport to any native community, no matter how wild and how averse to the white man. It is recorded that the Belgian rubber merchants, recognizing this, have sought safety when travelling amongst hostile tribes in adopting the name and manner of the Englishman. A certain Belgian tells how two of his colleagues when travelling were attacked by infuriated natives whose relatives had suffered at the hands of the rubber-mongers, and on being told that it was the natives’ intention to first mutilate them, as they themselves had been mutilated, and then to put them to death, one of them in his extremity sought refuge in the reputation of the missionary and replied, “What, put Ingleza to death!” While stoutly repudiating the assertion that they were English, the natives requested them to sing a hymn, and, fortunately for the desperate men, one of them remembered and sang a verse of a hymn he had learnt somewhere, and so amazed the natives that they let them go unharmed.
“Ingleza nta fombaka” (the Englishman never lies), has passed into a proverb and is spreading not only throughout the Congo, but even into Portuguese Angola. Possessing the unbounded confidence of the native mind, the Christian missionary, reinforced by practical medical work, may, if he desires, possess the vast unoccupied fields of the continent and obtain there an ever firmer foothold.
PROTESTANT EXPENDITURE
Within recent years, however, Protestant missions have taken up with increasing zeal industrial and commercial enterprises in the interests of the natives. We were unfortunate in being unable to visit what I am told is one of the finest industrial enterprises in West Africa—the Scotch Calabar Mission, but apart from those of the Roman Catholics we inspected several Protestant establishments. The British Government, recognizing what is now becoming common ground, that a purely literary and spiritual education does not produce the most robust type of civilized African, is now combining technical training in industries with literary studies, and no longer gives grants of lump sums to missions, but so much per head for the “finished product,” e.g. a native attaining a given literary and technical standard. In the Gold Coast the maximum per annum is 27s. 6d. per capita. In a school at Christiansborg, the annual upkeep of which costs £500, over £170 was earned in one year by the ability of the scholars in this way. The Primitive Methodists have a very effective little Industrial Mission on the Spanish island of Fernando Po. Under the vigorous and enlightened leadership of the Rev. Jabez Bell the mission situated at Bottler Point is now so prosperous that the returns from the cocoa farms together with subscriptions from the native members, more than cover the expenditure. If in any forthcoming rearrangement of the Map of Africa Fernando Po should come under Germany the character of the Primitive Methodist Mission on that island is bound to appeal to the practical-minded Teuton.
The price which Christian missions have paid for religious work amongst the pagan tribes of West Central Africa can never be correctly estimated. In the Congo alone Protestant missions have spent nearly one and a quarter millions sterling within the last twenty-five years. Out of some 550 missionaries, over 170 have gone to an early grave, many not living six months, some only a few days. These men and women were not only the matured youth of their countries, but they were compelled to pass the most rigid medical examination prior to acceptance by the missionary boards. They were indeed the flower of the Christian Church; moreover, the very difficulties and dangers which were known to exist, served to attract none but the strongest characters. Some people, incapable of recognizing sterling qualities in any but themselves, have written and spoken of missionaries as those who could not have made their way in any other sphere of life. Whatever may be true of other mission fields, so far as the missionaries of West Africa are concerned, the majority resigned good and assured positions and accepted a comparative pittance in order that they might serve what surely is the greatest of all causes. I have failed to obtain statistics from the Roman Catholic Church, but the foregoing applies equally to the devoted men of that body. With them, as with the Protestants, it has been via crucis via lucis.
The following statistics, so far as they are a guide to Christian progress, show some of the results achieved by the missionary forces of Protestantism in West Africa:—
| Adherents. | Scholars. | Annual Native Contributions. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Sierra Leone | |||
| Anglican | 12,700 | 3,283 | £7,267 |
| Methodists | 7,584 | 2,665 | — |
| Nigeria | |||
| Anglican | 40,700 | 15,089 | £11,676 |
| United Free Church | 6,431 | 3,675 | £2,834 |
| Methodists, including French Dahomey, German Togoland, and Fernando Po | 7,137 | 3,793 | — |
| Gambia | |||
| Methodists | 1,058 | 594 | — |
| Gold Coast | |||
| Society for the Propagation of the Gospel | 3,273 | — | £677 |
| Methodists | 61,481 | 7,821 | — |
| Basel Mission | 35,000 | — | £9,500 |
| Congo | |||
| Baptists | 4,536 | 11,637 | — |
| American Baptists | 5,230 | 7,500 (est.) | — |
| Presbyterian | 10,000 | 8,000 | — |
| Swedish | 1,821 | 5,721 | — |
| French Protestants | 1,800 | 1,000 | — |
| Angola | |||
| Methodists | 750 | 1,083 | £325 |
| Other Missions in West Africa Estimate | 15,000 | 8,000 | 400 |
| Totals | 214,501 | 79,861 | £32,679 |
From the statistical tables of the Protestant Missions, we have a known membership and communicant list of over 200,000 men and women, and nearly 80,000 scholars under daily Christian instruction. If to this be added an equal number in connection with the Roman Catholic Church—probably a generous estimate—West Central Africa possesses a Christian Church of something approaching half a million strong. This, however, does not take into account the large native interest in Christianity evidenced by the considerable purchase of the Scriptures. Every year the British and Foreign Bible Society ships some thousands of pounds worth of Bibles to the different colonies, the natives contributing an increasing sum to the Bible Society, which gives a “return” in cash from the native Christian community of the Protestant Churches of over £30,000 per annum, or an average contribution of over 4s. 3d. per head throughout the Churches.
INDUSTRIAL RESULTS
The fact that the results of missionary industrial enterprise are hampered by a not unreasonable dislike to “profit-making” prevents embarkation upon those bye-products of industrial activity which render commercial enterprise financially sound. A missionary is usually quite willing to teach men to adze timber, plane boards, square joints, lay bricks, and grow cotton and rubber, but he knows that his Board and its supporters regard “profit” with a very critical eye. Richard Blaize, an educated native of Abeokuta, left his fortune to meet this difficulty and now extensive workshops are erected at Abeokuta, and all the public buildings of that splendid city have been erected “at a profit” by the Christian Industrial School of Abeokuta.
In the Gold Coast the German Basel Mission leads the way with engaging vigour in the matter of industrial missions. The commercial section of the Mission includes industrial training institutes, and nothing could be more pleasing than the interest and energy with which the natives devote themselves to cabinet work, coach-building, and agricultural pursuits; but the main activities of this department are those of the ordinary African merchant with the exception that the agents are forbidden to sell spirituous liquors. This branch of the work, which is conducted by twenty-three “mercantile” missionaries, is in every respect admirable. One of the leading railway managers remarked to me that, “The most business-like commercial house in the colony is the Basel Mission; their men always know how many trucks they will require, their trolleys are to time, their goods properly bagged and labelled, and their whole organization so smart and up-to-date that they never dislocate the traffic.” There can be little doubt that the attention given to business by the representatives of the Mission is due to the type of white men they can command—none are accepted unless they agree to make their employment a matter of conscience, and develop their commercial undertakings with the same motive as that which animates their spiritual brethren, with whom they share all things in common, with the exception of salaries, those of the mercantile brethren being considerably higher and based, to some extent, upon returns. The white agents are assisted by coloured men in charge of branches, many of whom can show a record of service extending from 12 to 15 years, and some of them are now drawing salaries—including commission—of £500 per annum. These men are to be found on Sundays teaching in the Sunday schools, and preaching at the out-stations of the Mission.
INTERIOR OF MISSIONARIES’ HOUSE. BASEL INDUSTRIAL MISSION. FURNITURE MADE BY GOLD COAST MISSION SCHOLARS.
The capital for these operations is derived, in the main, from three sources: (1) the Basel Mission itself; (2) shareholders connected with the Mission, whose dividends are limited to 5 per cent. per annum; (3) from funds in the Mission’s Savings Bank, into which the natives of the colony have placed for security considerably over £20,000 at interest varying from 3½ to 5 per cent.
The results of the Mission’s work can be seen all over the colony; the polite native clerks, the managers of stores, the English-speaking planters, the coloured Government officials have nearly all of them received their training at the Basel Mission schools, and the Acting Governor does not hesitate to recognize that his best officials have been produced by the Mission. Testimony of this nature is unhappily seldom forthcoming from other colonies.
The industrial section usually executes orders to the value of about £4000 per annum; its go-carts, trolleys, traps, and waggonettes are sent into almost every colony from Sierra Leone to German Cameroons. The net profits of this department average slightly over £400 per annum.
The commercial department is certainly one of the most profitable enterprises in the colony, and the stores of the Mission are crowded with purchasers throughout the day. The exigencies of business naturally precluded the possibility of obtaining with any degree of exactness the volume of trade done by the Mission, but some of the figures are eloquent testimony to the confidence the natives have in these mercantile missionaries. In the year 1909-1910, the Mission exported 35 tons of rubber, 14,000,000 lbs. of palm kernels, 600,000 gallons of palm oil, and nearly 17,000,000 lbs. weight of cocoa beans.
The profit-bearing transactions of the Basel Mission cannot be much under £150,000, which on the moderate basis of 8 per cent. net profit would provide the Mission Exchequer with a sum of £12,000 per annum. Government grants-in-aid of educational work amounted in 1910 to £240. There are also periodic collections in aid of Mission funds; the native Church at Nsaba, for example, collected £240 last year. The whole expenditure of this Mission must be almost, if not completely, covered by its income from the various operations.
Whatever the actual financial position of this Mission, its general business operations, splendid educational institutions, its devoutly spiritual atmosphere, combine in forming one of the greatest—if not the greatest—force for progress in the Gold Coast colony. But the price has to be paid, for, according to the report of the Acting Governor, “The highest death-rate was again amongst the missionaries!”
DANGER AHEAD
The future of Christianity in West Africa is hopeful but it has its dangers. First its very success may lead to disastrous consequences. In the early years the mission work was almost entirely in the hands of the extreme evangelical section of the Church, who subordinated everything to the actual work of preaching. We understand and sympathize with the fiery zeal that believes in doing all the preaching, but the native thinks the preacher a strange being, and frequently does not understand two sentences of Anglicized Bantu, or worse still, his Bantuized English! Circumstances have broadened the outlook and men are beginning to realize the value of training the native to do the preaching, contenting themselves with an apparently more restrictive sphere in the class-room and study. The native preacher thus prepared is zealous to a degree, and that he is ready to suffer incredible hardships and even torture, we know from the romantic history of the Uganda Mission. He is willing and able to carry his message further afield than the white man could ever hope to do; he is, moreover, able to present his message through the medium of a complete mastery of the native tongue. The results of this form of propaganda are becoming almost startling. Christian evangelists from one territory are meeting those of far distant regions and in this manner the whole of the riverine systems of Central Africa are coming rapidly under the influence of Christianity. It is in this respect, rather than in tabulated statistics, that one sees the onward march of the Christian Faith. The bush native no longer clings to and prides himself in paganism; if he is not a Mohammedan, he will tell you he is a Christian, even though his life and conduct would shut him out of the formal communion of any Christian Church.
This condition of affairs may lead to a grave situation, for already in several colonies the natives are restive under an inadequate white control or leadership. Educated in the principles of liberty, but without much respect for, or belief in, the nobler tenets of the Christian Faith, they are breaking away from Christian government and forming themselves into Christian communities in which personal desire is never allowed to conflict with accepted standards of ethics. One day I visited a leading “Christian” in a certain colony; he showed me round the district, took me over his delightful little farm, pointed out his model dwellings, machinery houses, and so forth; then I inspected a building with three compartments and was informed that one section was used as a “gin store,” the middle section for prayer meetings, and in the third the man kept his wives! All this he boldly asserted could be justified by reference to the Scriptures. I was not prepared to contest the assertion, because my host claimed his own conscience as the final arbiter of interpretation. The extent to which these secessions may go can be gathered from the fact that one such seceding church in West Africa claims a membership of over 10,000 adults.
THE LIGHT ETERNAL
The missionary societies, unable to supply sufficient men to cope with these vast areas, are forced to leave the movement almost alone and thus it spreads, and will continue to spread, until Central Africa is completely brought under the influence of a form of Christianity which for many years will be a caricature of the religion of Christ. The only hope, and happily a probable development, is that the religious wave, which is now moving irresistibly across the central regions, will be followed by an ethical wave which will give the “Light eternal” to the Dark Continent.