“As you peeled the tubers, you cut raw slices and ate them, you pounded your greens and as ‘kitowêo,’ you ate them also. These are two instances in which you took poison.
“Now the men from Bolobo had bought the manioc bread from the native women. They had steeped the tubers in the river for four or five or six days until the poison had all been washed away, they had then picked the fibres out, dried the mush, and when dry they had made it into good bread. That was what fed the Bolobo men, and fattened them. But the men of Yambuya had scraped their manioc, and cut the roots for drying in the sun, and as they did so they ate many a piece raw, and before the slices were well dried they had eaten some, because they had no reserve of food, and hunger forced them. Even those of you who put your roots to soak in the water ate many a nice-looking bit, and you bruised and cooked your greens to serve with your badly-prepared bread, and men naturally sickened and died of the poison; and the men of Bolobo, when they came up, did like the men of Yambuya, and by-and-by they fell ill and died also. That is the reason why there are a hundred graves at Yambuya, and that is what ails these sick men here. Not one of the white men died, because they had rice, beans, biscuits and meat of fowl and goat. If it were the climate that had killed your friends, the white men less adapted for it would have died first, as they have done on the lower Congo; but neither the climate nor the camp had anything to do with your mortal sickness—the retching, and quaking of the limbs, the vertigo and pain in the head, the weakening of the knees, and the softening of the muscles, the final loathing, and indifference to life—nothing else than the poison of the bitter manioc.
“What you should have done was to have sent two or three daily out of each mess to gather in the manioc in sufficient quantities and steep it in the river, and have always plenty of prepared flour on hand to make porridge or dumplings when hungry. Had you done so, I should have about 200 sleek and strong men ready for travel with me to Zanzibar.
“Now follow what I say to you now. Eat as little of this manioc as you can. Go, gather plenty of it, put it in the river to steep, and while it is soaking eat your fill of bananas and plantains. In a day or two I will move away from here. The sick shall be carried to a big island a few hours distant, and there you will prepare twenty days’ provisions of flour. Those who cannot get sufficient bananas make gratings over the fire, slice your manioc thin, and let them dry till morning; then pound, and make into flour, and eat what is good for white man as well as black. To-morrow, all of you come back again to me, and you will throw away those filthy rags of clothing into the river, and I shall clothe you anew. Meantime, rejoice, and thank God that we have come to save you from the grave.”
We had brought with us a saving salve for all the despair and discontent that wrought confusion in the minds of those who were herded within the pen of Banalya. The influence of the beauty of the grass-land, its wealth of grains and vegetables, and its stores of food had been impressed so vividly upon the minds of our men of the advance column, that the subject-matter of their revelations excited the dullest mind to a lively hope that good times were come again. The men who had feasted their eyes and glutted their appetites in that glorious land were never tired of relating those details which have such a charm for those who know from bitter experience what it is to hunger. As vivid as the word pictures describing the happy region was the rapture of attention paid to them by the poor emaciates who bore on their faces the unhealthy stain of anæmia. To these it seemed an Eden filled with all manner of pleasant things—abundance of food, grain and meat for strength, milk and millet for nourishment. Slight regard was paid by the narrators to the miserable months to be endured before the Eden could be reached, nor did the eager listeners seem to care to sift the narratives. Their imagination was so engrossed with the bright scenes that quite obscured the stern realities to be borne before they could be attained. I listened to the artless prattle of these adult children, sympathised with their enthusiasm, and pitied them with all my soul. “Inshallah!” said the boys from the Nyanza, with fervid emotion, “We shall feast on beef once again, then you will laugh at the days you fed on manioc roots and greens.”
Was it to be doubted that these seductive visions would lead the sickly ones of Banalya from erring thoughts of desertion? Milk and honey, meat and millet, with wages and bounties, were stronger attractions than the dried fish of Stanley Falls, the cane of the Arab master, and a doubtful future.
The cloud that had weighed down the spirits of the men of the rear column so long was now about to be uplifted. But first it was necessary to remove every one from the immediate vicinity of Banalya, the scene of the tragedy and nursery of vicious moods and mischiefs. The couriers sent on the 17th of August with notice of our arrival to Tippu-Tib must have reached him on the 24th of August. I had stated I should wait for him ten days, and even that period was begrudged by the impatient Nyanza men, who had heard with scorn of his calculating dilatoriness. But this delay was not only needed to give another opportunity to Tippu-Tib, but also to enable Mr. Jameson, who was reported to be at Stanley Falls, to join us, and also to reorganise the Expedition, and re-arrange the goods, which had become terribly deranged by the demands of Tippu-Tib, that they should be reduced to suit mere boy carriers.
1888.
Aug. 21.
Bungangeta.
After three days’ halt at the camp we embarked all the sick and goods in the canoes, and proceeded to Bungangeta Island, which we reached in three hours. All the Manyuema carriers proceeded by land to a camp opposite the island. During our stay at Banalya, Ugarrowwa had descended the river from Wasp Rapids and occupied the larger island; we therefore paddled to another higher up, which in some respects was more suitable for us. The land column straggled into the camp opposite during three successive days, but the rear guard, driving the stragglers, did not reach the landing-place until the evening of the 24th, though the distance was but six miles. Mr. Bonny did not reach until the 22nd. The advance column in 1887 had covered the distance in four hours, but meantime the Arabs had destroyed the large settlements, and the marvellously thriving bush had buried ruins, fields, and plantations under accumulated layers of leafy parasites. This short march, protracted over three days, emphasised the necessity that existed for a complete reorganization and thorough overhaul. We had also lost four half-loads and two rifles through absconding Manyuema. On the whole it was a capital test march, and proves, if any further proof was needed beyond the log-book, the utter unruliness of this mob of slaves, which had half-maddened the officers of the rear column. Without Tippu-Tib, or one of his nephews, such a column could not be taken through the broad extents of wildernesses ahead. At this rate of marching we should be 450 days reaching the Albert Nyanza. Messrs. Jameson and Bonny had been forty-three days going ninety miles. The difficulties which our officers met on the road are but slightly glanced at in the log-book, but the patience with which they had met them was never more manifest. We stayed on our breezy island until the 31st August. Cloth, beads, cowries, and brass rods had been distributed at the rate of five doti or twenty yards, three pounds cowries, one pound beads, and fifteen brass rods per man of the Nyanza force, and half as much to the men of the rear column, equal in value to £760 to the Nyanza force, and £283 to the Banalya men. They all deserved equally, but the latter had already a pretty fair kit, whereas the Nyanza men had been clad in goat skins and strips of bark-cloth. This “pocket-money” to each would enable our men to enjoy perfect rest while Ugarrowwa’s 600 people would only be too happy in preparing flour, making manioc cakes and bread—as reserve provisions—for a fair portion of cloth and other articles.
Besides the work of restoring the baggage into order, which needed my personal supervision, I had to write my reports to the Relief Committee, to the London Royal, and Royal Scottish Geographical Societies, who were contributories to the Relief Fund, to hold my palaver with the Manyuema headmen, who one day vowed strictest fidelity, and the next burdened my ear with complaints of their moody-mad men, losses by disease, desertion, thefts of goods, menaces, &c., &c. But my answer to them all was almost similar in terms to that used in my note to Tippu-Tib on the 17th: “If you decline the journey it is well, if you proceed with me it is well also. Exercise your own free will. I do not need you, but if you like to follow me I can make use of you, and will pay you according to the number of loads you carry.” Some of them understood this as implying leave to proceed upon their own business—that of ravaging and marauding—but three head men volunteered to accompany me. I engaged them on the condition that if they followed me of their own will for thirty days I would after that time trust them with loads.