Bokwala: The Story of a Congo Victim

by Congo resident

But after long time of waiting changes did come once more. Bokakala’s white men of rubber did not come to us any more, but Bula Matadi (the State) himself came and said that now he would send his own white men to us, and that they were good; and there would be no more bad doings in our villages; as they would recall all the sentries and not send any more out to live with us, and oppress and ill-treat us and our families.

And Bula Matadi really came, and since then we have had better times than before. Having no sentries in our villages, but only our own headmen, makes it much better for us, and far [[116]]safer for our wives and families who are left at home when we are away in the forest.

For a little while there was no rubber work; we cut posts and bamboos for building, and firewood for steamers, and there was always the food tax which pressed hard on men and women alike. It always has been a heavy task to supply that, and is still—just as much food is needed, and we are so few, so very few to keep up the quantity.

However, we congratulated ourselves on not having rubber to work, when lo! Bula Matadi himself suddenly ordered us to begin working rubber again!

It seems that there is no way of pleasing a white man except by providing him with rubber. I do not mean the white men of God—they are different. But the others, whether they belong to Bokakala or Bula Matadi, whether they live up-country or down, or away on the big river, they are all alike in feeling a hunger for rubber.

So now we are away in the forest for two months, and in our homes for one. The two months are spent in collecting rubber, and making it into long strips to take to the white man. Each man has to make six [[117]]strips for each month, and take them to the white man once in three months—eighteen strips at a time. Then we get a piece of cloth or a shirt or a plate as payment if the rubber is good and the quantity sufficient; if it is not, then we get very little or no payment, and if the shortage is of frequent occurrence, it may be prison.

We are better off in having a longer time for getting the rubber; but we have long distances to go in order to reach any vines, and then we have to cut them down and sometimes dig up the roots in order to get sufficient of the sap.

And we have more comfort, because, going for a longer time, we make better shelters, and take our hunting-nets and spears with us, and so succeed in getting some fresh animal food. If several of us are in the same part of the forest, it is easy to set up our nets round a herd of wild pigs or some antelopes. Some go in and beat the bush, others wait outside the nets with poised spears, and it is not long before we have some animal for our evening meal.

The people who live on the river bank, and have to be always providing wood for passing [[118]]steamers, or fish and manioca for rations for Bula Matadi’s soldiers and workmen, and fresh meat for his own table, are really worse off in some ways than we who are now on rubber work, because they must take their portion every seven or fifteen days, and if they fail to do so they are imprisoned.

Then demands are made of some villages to supply fowls and eggs at odd times and in varying quantities. We wonder sometimes what the white men do with so many eggs; they seem to be always wanting them. One of our people who has frequently to supply eggs says that he thinks the white men must be under the impression that we black men lay eggs the same as fowls do, for they are always calling for them, whether or not the fowls are laying!