“As I write, further bad news has come that three towns which were spared have decided to go away. If so, we shall be left in the midst of a howling wilderness. We can only wait at present and pray for guidance.”
“November 17th.—Tom is very busy building. There seems no end to building of one kind and another. You see here, where our houses only consist of three or four rooms, there are so many outbuildings needed to each house, besides chapel, carpenter’s shed, blacksmith’s shed, and stores. Now he is just going to build a dispensary. The old house which we have been using for that and a store combined, may come down any day in a heavy storm. Mr. Hooper’s house is going on at the same time, and with these wonderfully industrious men I can tell you it is no joke.
“So many sad things seem to be happening everywhere. I am afraid our dear old B.M.S. is getting into hot water over these atrocities. I do think that the Congo State has been too much praised by some; still it is absurd to suppose that any of our missionaries would condone brutality or injustice. Perhaps they have been slow to believe things which they have not seen themselves. Personally I never had any love for King Leopold or the State. I even prefer the easy-going Portuguese.”
“February 20, 1903.—I had to leave off there the other night, so must try to finish now. Since then the old chief of this district came the other day, or rather sent to say that he was outside the station, and wanted Tom to go to him, as he had ‘eaten nkisi’ not to come in. Tom sent word that if he wanted him he must come in, as he had nothing to do with his nkisi palavers. So he and the other men came just inside, to where our new house is, and had a long talk; but there is no doing anything with these people. They wanted us to guarantee that no Makela man should come any nearer than Nkil’a nkosi’s town, and declared there would be no peace until Nkila and Nzanza (his fellow chief) were both killed; that until then they would not settle down, and the country would not be at rest.
“They are brimming over with revenge, and think of nothing else. A man named Luvumbu, the chief of a little town which was burnt, called Wembo, is now the head of all this district. He was the one who refused our ‘chop’ when all the chiefs promised us boys a long time ago when we first settled here. He professed to be tamed as regards having dealings with us, but the other day when Tom offered a tin of sardines each to the three chiefs, he refused one. Nearly everybody here is related to him, and he is the head cook in all witch palavers, so prospects are not very bright. I am afraid there is little chance of the regular people coming back here for a very long time. It is very disheartening, and just now we are so tied with one thing and another. Mr. Hooper is not well, we lack carriers, and the mules are ill, so that we cannot get about to the other towns as we should like to do. Even the nearest towns are difficult to reach this time of the year, as now the people do not clean the roads, and to walk through the wet grass means a good wetting and a good chance of fever. If the mules were well we could get to those near. Then besides, Tom has his hands full with the new house and a brilliant lot of workmen, who mostly do nothing if he is not there; or if they do attempt anything it is pretty sure to have to be undone again. So you can see what a nice hole we are in at present. I hope things will change for the better before long, though as far as we can see they are not likely to.”
“April 18th.—Certainly everything has been so far most disappointing, and disappointment is depressing here, for there is nothing to take it off. As soon as the rains cease and Mr. Bowskill has got into the station work, Tom and I hope to get out to the towns round about. We shall not be able to go far, as Mr. Bowskill will be alone, but there are very many towns we want to visit. We are also anxious to get some more children on the station. Just now the chiefs are at San Salvador, and we are anxiously awaiting their return. If they come back with everything settled we are going to have high jinks, a big feed for them and the station children and workmen. I think I told you J. P. and Mr. H. had a bull and cow between them. Well, the poor bull died, after which the cow took to wandering, and was away quite a long time. The other night she returned. Mr. H. means to shoot her for the feed. I need not say I shall not partake of it; but I suppose every one else will enjoy the beef. I daresay it is the kindest thing to do, for she is very lean, and not very happy, I should say.”
“June 3rd. (Circular letter to children.)—It seems a long time since I wrote to you, but no doubt you have read about us in the Herald, and have heard how all the towns close to our station were burnt down, so that the poor people had to run away. Some had friends in other towns to whom they could go, but many lived in the bush for several months, building themselves little shelters in the tall grass, so that no one might know where they were. A short time ago the Portuguese Governor sent word that they might return and build their towns, and live in peace if they would obey the laws, but the chiefs of the towns must first go to San Salvador and obtain permission of the magistrate there. At first they were very much frightened at the idea and did not like to go, but at last we persuaded the chief of the biggest town, Nzamba, to venture, and when he returned safe and sound the others consented to go also. Now it is the dry season, and they want to begin to build. They were much astonished at all they saw at San Salvador, and very pleased with their visit. All this has greatly interrupted our work. A very few people could come to listen to God’s Word on Sundays, and those in the towns around were so frightened and restless that it was of little use our going to them.
“The witch doctors had passed a law that no children were to come to school, so if we asked any boy to come one day, the next he had run away and was nowhere to be found.
“Now, however, things are beginning to look brighter. When the people said they were coming back, we called the chiefs together and told them they must take away this law about school and allow any one to come who wished. We also said we expected them to keep the promise they made a long time back, to bring us some boys to live on the station so that we might teach them good fashions. After a great deal of talk they agreed, and a few days after came with six boys, such funny little fellows—the eldest about eight, perhaps; but he, poor child, is an orphan and slightly crippled, his feet being deformed. He also has a skin disease which I hope to be able to cure in time. He has been badly neglected. His name is Nsumbi. Next to him is Nekiana; he is about seven, and is a bright, sharp boy, who, I think, will learn very quickly. Then comes Ntambu, about six years old, a good-tempered, lovable little fellow, but a little inclined to be lazy and dirty. The three others are about four and five years of age—such little mites! At first I said they ought to be with their mothers, but when we were told they had none we consented to take them. Their names are Nzingula, Nzuzi, Muntu; their poor little fingers and toes have been badly eaten by ‘jiggers,’ the nasty little insects of which some of you have heard; but I hope soon they will be quite well. You see they are all little, so we hope to be able to teach them many things, and that when they know more about Jesus, they will begin to love Him and try to please Him. They all go to school, and the two elder ones have already learnt their A B C.
“So far I have not been able to get any Zombo girls either to school or to live with us. There are many nice little girls about who come sometimes for medicine, and some of them would like very much to come into the station. A woman told me the other day that her child wanted to come and she would like her to, but I am afraid the man to whom she belongs will not let her. The girls here are betrothed when quite babies to old men who have money to buy them. These men do not like them to learn, because they are afraid if they do they will not want to be their wives when they grow up. No doubt that would be so. However, I am in hopes of getting my first Zombo girl in this week. The chief of Nzamba has promised to bring me some girls, and I believe he is trying to get them; but he owns a number of little girls and does not like to give them up, and the other people are just the same; because in this land little girls are articles that can be bought and sold just like pigs or goats. It seems so sad that nice little children should be sacrificed in this way; that is why we are so anxious to get them to school, so that when they grow up they may know better.