“We started again at 1 p.m., crossed the Lunda River, where was a bridge of one stick, passed two small towns, and arrived at Kiunga at 2.50. The chief was not ready to receive us, so we sat down outside an empty house and waited patiently. The cause of the delay was the fact that, never having seen a white man in his town before, the chief was much frightened, and sent for his fighting men, who were assisting a neighbouring chief. He appeared at last surrounded by men with guns, but in obvious perplexity as to what our visit could mean.
“He was a most picturesque figure; an oldish man with an extraordinary head-dress, wearing his cloth arranged in a fashion which reminded us of the pictures of Aaron. He quite jumped when Tom offered to shake hands. Tom told him that we had come to speak to him about God, and all that we desired of him was a house to sleep in, and permission to speak to his people. I felt quite sorry for the old man; for between his fear of offending the white man, and his caution against falling into a trap, he did not know what to do. Tom somewhat allayed his fears by pointing to me as a proof that he had come on a peaceful errand. Finally it was agreed that we should have the house we were sitting against, and that the people should come to hear our message when the moon was up.
“At the time appointed the chief and his men came, fully armed, but said that the women were afraid. When we had given our message, they were much relieved, and afterwards a number of women came saying that they wished to hear too; so I sat outside my house for some time talking to them. The next morning chief and people pressed us to stay, and upon learning that we could not do so, said that as none of our party had done any bad palaver they would like to see a white man again. We were much interested in the Kiunga people, but decided that it would be premature to consider the planting of a station there just now.
“It was late and hot when we started, but I was comfortable and well shaded in my hammock. I had to alight twice in this stage of our journey as we came to rivers through which the men could not carry me. One passage was very awkward, the ‘bridge’ consisting of two pieces of stick which extended only half-way across, and that under water instead of over it. I took off shoes and stockings, waded to the end of the bridge, which was frightfully slippery, and was carried on two men’s shoulders the rest of the way. Soon afterwards we reached Lunda.
“This is a large town, but the people are the most unpleasant we have met with—dirty, drunken, very much afraid of us, yet so full of curiosity that they did not leave us for one minute in peace. There are two chiefs here. One had just started out to bury his brother. He was called back, and did not venture forth again until we had gone. In the evening a crowd assembled to hear what we had to say, but our speech made no impression, and they went away, evidently saying in their hearts, ‘Is that all?’ There were about a hundred and fifty present, and many of the men were half drunk. The house they gave us was filthy, and full of cockroaches—you know how I love them—and we were not sorry to depart next morning.
“August 21st.—Our journey to-day was short, and we arrived at Etoto about 11.30. This is a large town for Congo, containing about four hundred inhabitants, nicely situated on the top of a high hill slightly indented in the middle. We waited some little time for the coming of the chief, who seems rather an agreeable man, quiet and less important in his own eyes than most of these petty rulers are. He gave us one of his houses, or rather part of one, built of planks. We ventured to peep in at the other part, and found it full of old chairs, images of nkixi, and dreadful rat-holes, so we thought it expedient not to ask for the loan of that. The rats held high revels at night and seriously disturbed our slumbers.
“We discovered in this place a wife of the King of San Salvador, who was sick, one of my schoolgirls, and two schoolboys, who afforded us something of an introduction. The people were shy but friendly, and we quickly decided that this was the place we were seeking, if only the people were willing. Tom spoke to the chief men about the matter, saying that we should like to come often to teach the children to read, and to give them all some knowledge of God; asking them also if they would be willing for us to build a house for these purposes. At first they could hardly believe him. It seemed too good to be true. But being assured that we were in earnest, they said, in African fashion, that ‘they would drink water,’ i.e., consider the matter, and tell us next day.
“In the morning they declared that they would much like us to come, and we went with the chief to seek a site for our house and school. We chose a good one on the highest point of the hill, with a fine view across country to Arthington Falls. This settled, we returned to our house. I went to visit the King’s wife, and after ‘chop’ I held a large meeting of women outside her house. There were some fifty or sixty present who had remained away from their farms on purpose. Then the men came, desiring to hear, and Tom had a long talk with them. In the evening two women came, asking to hear more, and after discussing matters with Matoko and Kivitidi we went to bed.
“August 24th.—To-day we started homewards, made a long journey, and had much trouble in getting through a very bad marsh. Once I was landed comfortably on the branch of a tree, and my hammock could not be moved one way or the other until Kivitidi came to the rescue with his long arms and legs. Our stray sheep (school-children) came with us from Etoto. We slept at Nkala, a miserable little town, chief away, few people, and no opportunity for speaking. The next morning, August 25th, we left early, made a long march over the hills, and arrived at San Salvador at 11 p.m. We had a warm welcome, and found all well.”