Among Congo cannibals

by John H. Weeks

[31]. “A Report of the Kingdom of Congo from the writings etc. of Duarte Lopez by Filippo Pigafetta, in Rome 1591.”

On the Upper Congo are many hippopotami—in a quiet side channel in 1890 we counted over one hundred of these huge beasts on a single sandbank; and as we passed the noise of our steamer frightened them. They took to the water, churned it in their alarm, and thumped the bottom of our steamer repeatedly. Crocodiles are very numerous, and are frequently killed from the decks of steamers passing up and down the river. They are more cautious than formerly, and make for the river on the slightest alarm. Many water-birds are to be seen along the banks, and in the quieter creeks and channels monkeys of various species sit chattering in the trees. The numerous steamers that now run up and down the river and its larger tributaries have frightened the hippo, the crocodile, and monkeys from the main channels to the smaller ones, and the hunter must now go by canoe, boat, or small launch up these unfrequented water bypaths if he is in search of sport.

There is no bush-burning on the Upper Congo, for the greater part of it is forest land, with here and there an open glade of forty or fifty acres in extent. Animal life, however, is not prolific, and this may be accounted for, perhaps, by these reasons: There are no great prairie or bush-lands where animals can breed in comparative security, and the Equatorial district for hundreds of miles is periodically flooded. About every ten or eleven years the banks are under water. I have had to go about my own station in a boat, and I have eaten antelopes and bush-pigs that were caught and killed just off our station in the over-swollen river. In August, 1890, the river at Monsembe was eleven feet below the bank, but every year its highest rise was higher than the previous year, until in November, 1896, and again in 1897, the river was running under our houses. Then for a few years its highest watermark was lower than the preceding year; and in 1903 it took the turn, and the country was flooded again in 1908. During the 1896 flood we learned from the natives that the river “was flooded like this when So-and-so was a boy that height.” We judged that to be about ten years before.

These floods have undoubtedly helped to keep down the animal life of the Equatorial district, and, in addition, it is probable that forest lands are not such good breeding-places as the open veldt lands of South Africa, where the enemy cannot so easily take an animal by surprise.

There are in every Boloki town two or three men who are the recognized hunters, either because of their success, their swiftness of movement, their accuracy of aim, or their daring courage. These men are the leaders in the hunt, and always receive a larger share of the spoil than the ordinary man.

The owner of the slain animal is he whose spear first enters a vital part, and though the others have a share according to their importance, yet he takes the largest portion for himself. Various relatives, head-men, and chiefs have rights over certain parts of an animal killed by a relative or a member of the town. These portions vary considerably with the different families and towns. A child takes a leg or a shoulder of the animal slain by his father, a mother receives the belly-piece or the neck from her successful son. These bespoke portions that belong to the family are called bilelo. The head-man of the town receives the head or a leg, and his portion is called motando. After the fortunate hunter has met these claims, and has given his companions in the hunt a piece each, there is often not much left for himself. There is no close season for hunting.

The boundaries of the town are well defined, and the islands belonging to a town are well known to all the other towns in the neighbourhood. If an animal is killed on ground owned by a town other than that to which the huntsman belongs, he has to send a portion of it—generally the head—to the chief who claims the land.

The only mode I observed among them for preserving the meat is that of thoroughly drying it, or smoking it, over a fire. As a rule not much meat is preserved in this way, as the animal is usually eaten all up in three or four days. Those who have more than they can eat are always willing to sell some of it to the less fortunate, and buyers are numerous.

Men going to hunt carry their special charms with them, either on their person or on their spears. These charms are almost as numerous as there are huntsmen; you will scarcely find two men in a party who have faith in the same kind of charm. But there are certain ceremonies performed in which all the huntsmen take part.

In the case of a special hunt, say for killing elephants, a medicine man was called who took two or three days to perform an elaborate ritual and “make medicine.” This only occurred once during my residence at Monsembe, and then the hunt was not successful. Although I inquired about what the medicine man did, the people were too suspicious of me to inform me about his proceedings. I found later that the natives thought that the spirits of the deceased who inhabited the forests had power to turn the animals aside from the traps and thus render them ineffective, so the first thing to be done when arranging a hunt was to call the medicine man of the mat. This medicine man brought his mats, charms, some saucepans and calabashes. He set up his mat, and entering the enclosed space he went through secret rites that lasted from one to three days. During these secret ceremonies he caught the spirits of the locality where the trap was set (or was to be set), and shut them up in a saucepan, or secured them safely in a calabash.