Bokwala: The Story of a Congo Victim

by Congo resident

The animals killed in the hunt were first taken to my father to be divided by him, and soon the portions were given round to the women to be cooked, while we youngsters sat about waiting, talked and feasted on the appetising smells emitted from the various boiling pots.

My mother sat and talked with my father; she did no cooking, as she was the favourite wife, and the others cooked for her. In the fruit season we might add our quota to the feast in the form of rubber and other fruits, or [[20]]even caterpillars or palmerworms, and these were greatly enjoyed by all.

When the food was ready the women brought it in hand-baskets to my father, who first helped himself to his share, and passed some to any visitors who might be with him, then he gave the rest to his wives, and each in turn divided it amongst her own children. The slaves were treated much the same as children when food was served out, they received their share.

We had no plates or spoons then, as some of our people who work for the white men now have, leaves served for plates, and twisted into a scoop did equally well for spoons. The chief possessed his own carved ivory spoon, worked from a solid elephant’s tusk, but that was taboo for any but himself. Nowadays we may not work ivory for ourselves, we have to take it to the white men.

As soon as we had all finished eating, and drinking spring water, some of us carefully gathered up all the leaves which we had used, and the peelings and cuttings of the food, and threw them away in the forest, lest some evil-disposed person should get hold of them and by means of them bewitch us. We are all very much afraid of witchcraft, unless we ourselves [[21]]practise it; then, of course, it is for others to fear us.

The meal finished and cleared away, and the leavings tied up to the roof to be served again to-morrow morning, we all gathered round the fires and the old men told stories of their prowess in hunting or in war, or retold to us young ones some of the legends and fables of our ancestors of long ago. Sometimes, on rare occasions, my father would sing to us the legend of Lianza, the ancient warrior and hero of our race. This story takes a long time to tell, and at frequent intervals the whole company would join in singing the choruses, with clapping of hands and great excitement.

This lasted far into the night. And sometimes when the moon shone brightly we would sing and dance and play games, which we enjoyed greatly at the time, although they were not good games, and we generally had to suffer for them afterwards. On the following morning many of us were sick, our heads ached, and we were fit for nothing.

We do not play these games so much now as we used to.

There was just one thing we were always afraid of in those days, and that was an attack [[22]]from our enemies who lived on the other side of the river. They were very bad people, so wicked that they even eat men whom they have killed in battle, or slaves whom they have taken prisoners or bought for the purpose. They were at that time much stronger than we were, and when they attacked us we always got the worst of it. So we dreaded them very much, more even than the wild animals of the forest.

On a certain evening we were sitting talking after having finished our evening meal, and we began to make plans for a fishing expedition to the marsh near the river, and finally decided to start on the next day.