Holy Week. If it had not been for the colour of the congregation kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, you could not have believed you were in Central Africa. The church was filled with flowers, and a large number of people kept coming during the whole time.
We did not know exactly how things were going on at Banalya, but we did hear that our Christians were prosperous and had won over several catechumens. As soon as we came within a distance of about one and a half hours from the place, a number of the village people came out to meet us, laughing, singing, and kneeling in the mud of the marshes for our benediction. They told us that some little catechists, who could hardly read themselves, had managed to teach a number of the others to pray every morning and every evening, and then to teach them some catechism, so when we came over we found that a large number of the people had already been converted. We immediately landed 150 catechumens at Banalya, 80 at Yambuga, and nearly 200 at Basoko, where a young woman, baptised the year before,—although she is unable to read,—superintends morning and evening prayer for the whole village.
Orphans Praying at St. Truden (Kassai).
The following, from the diary of the Rev. Father Wulfers, written at Yanonghi (Romee Mission), June 22, 1902, accurately portrays the hopes and fears, the triumphs and disappointments, which attend the life of a missionary in Central Africa.
Our Station is flourishing. We have a fine spring of rock water near the house, and a beautiful vista across the river, about two miles wide. The coffee groves begin near the house, affording shaded walks for hours. Within a short distance, we find the Arab settlements; and, somewhat further away from the river, immense rice fields. Fruits and agricultural products abound. It is from here that rice is supplied for a number of stations and missions, all the way down to the Falls and Leopoldville. The missionary of Romee supplies our other posts with large quantities of rice, besides the seeds furnished by the State Agricultural Station, and a number of articles which we get from the Arabs in exchange for cotton cloth. Of course everything has to be bought; they will give nothing for nothing. The railroad—Romee-Ponthierville—will start from here. The survey is progressing. That branch will help to avoid the rapids on the river on both sides of Bertha Island and the Lakes, which frequently interfere with navigation. Our situation, therefore, is pretty good from the material point of view; but, of course, we have some troubles. The Arabs are not peaceful, and the State contemplates the establishment of a military post here to protect the whites against them and the Turumbus, who are fierce cannibals. When Monseigneur van Ronslé was here last year, he wanted to establish a mission at Romee, because the State maintains there a force of about 600 men to protect the new rubber plantation. At present there are here about 120 catechumens and 20 Christians. I baptised ten of them last March and three in May. They come to Mass every Sunday, sometimes arriving Saturday evening to sleep here. I expect to have a great many more Christians when the work on the railroad begins. Although the Turumbus are still very savage, I hope to do a good deal with them, for they have already helped me to build my house. Yesterday I gave them some presents. One got a pipe; another a looking-glass; another some cotton cloth, with some rice for their children. They went away very happy, saying the Father is a good man. The people of the neighbouring villages sometimes come to me saying they want to stay a year and then be baptised. I promise them when the chapel is built that I will visit them, teach them to read and write, and then get them to teach the catechism to others. They seemed very happy. As regards the Arabs, I am afraid they will not come to the catechism so soon. They sometimes listen to it out of curiosity. They appear to understand it, and acknowledge that it is true; but a virtuous life seems hard to them, and they have no inclination to it. Their Chief often inquires about the beginning of the world, the origin of the white settlements in Africa, the story of Christ, etc. He works with me, comes to see my pictures, and asks for explanations. Some of the Arabs want to learn French. I shall teach them some in order to gain their confidence. When the chapel is finished I will see what I can do to Christianise the Arabs, who are about 200,000 strong.
I have had a disheartening experience at Yafolo, where I found the community, which had inspired me with so much hope, had gone over to the Dilwa worship. This is a form of public worship of the Dilwa. It lasts for two or three months. During that time all the young men, from seven to twenty years of age, devote themselves to the Dilwa. Of course I denounced the falsity of that superstition. I went into the middle of the crowd with a revolver in my pocket, because I did not know what they might do. They were sorry that I came, because they thought I was going to drop dead as a punishment for my temerity. They told me if I touched any of the Dilwa men my arm would wither and fall off. I touched some of them, and of course nothing happened; but they kept on, and during the three months of the Dilwa work I could not do anything for them. I went again a month ago and learned that about two-thirds of the catechumens were willing to return to Christianity, but their parents would not let them come, believing all those who have gone through the Dilwa to be sacred people and to have no further need of God. Some old people told me that when the Dilwa is over they will all come back. I wonder if they will!
The same missionary records yet another of his experiences, which throws a vivid light upon the horrid subject of cannibalism. It is dated February 7, 1903.
While the Rev. P. Kohl was staying with me, a young chief named Kalonda visited us. He told us that he had said to his warriors: “Come, let us visit our Father. He is such a good man that he is sure to give us something!” Speaking to the Rev. Kohl, he added, “He certainly is a very good man. He visits our village and tells us beautiful things about God. You will see that he loves us, because he certainly is going to give us something.” In the meantime he was slapping his stomach, to show what he expected. We could not help laughing, but he took no offence. Turning to his warriors, he began again: “Children, here is the Good Father of whom I have so often spoken to you.” There I stopped him, saying: “That will do, Kalonda. Look here, now. If you answer my questions well, I shall give you a present.”