Among Congo cannibals

by John H. Weeks

I remember one day a man was looking at a picture of the members of the L.C.C. gathered in their council chamber. He asked what it meant, and I explained the significance of the assembly. He could only see well with one eye, and with that one he very carefully scanned the whole of the picture for two or three minutes, and then he asked in an incredulous tone of voice: “This is a picture of men met to talk palavers, but where are their spears and knives?” The natives never talked palavers without having their spears and knives ready to hand, hence the doubt expressed in his question and voice.

The native has immense respect for force, but totally despises gentleness. He likes to be treated with kindness and consideration, but instead of regarding such treatment as an expression of your goodness he considers it a sign of your weakness, and will behave accordingly. If you point out to him that you treat him with kindness and expect some consideration in return, he will acknowledge that that is fair and right, and will for a time try to act more thoughtfully, but soon the better feeling will pass away unless you constantly remind him of his many deficiencies—of all that he has to learn and all that he needs to become.

To teach a native that he is your equal in all things is not to incite a desire on his part to emulate you, but rather tends to cause him to regard you with disrespect and contempt. The native knows he is not your equal, and he thinks you must have a despicable twist in your vision, and some bad, ulterior motive, if you think that he is your equal and wish him also to believe the same. I teach him that he is a creature of God as I am, that the Redeemer died as much for him as for me, and that God will judge him righteously, and will show neither of us favour or disfavour on account of the colour of our skins. At the same time, the relation between teacher and taught must be maintained, and he must be made to understand in how many ways he must be changed—morally, intellectually, and socially; and that before he can take his place among civilized and Christian men he must rise out of his degrading superstitions, control his lusts, govern his passions, and strive after all that is good, noble, and beautiful. He will admit that you are his superior in every way, but unless you firmly insist on his taking his right position as a learner he will conduct himself towards you with less respect than he pays to the smallest and poorest chief in his district, and in a short time your influence will be gone and you will wonder why.

Treat the native with respect, and insist on receiving the same from him; treat him with firmness, decision, masterfulness, and he will go as a rule as far as you want him to go. Faithfully keep all your promises and fulfil all your threats, therefore never make a promise you do not intend to redeem, and never threaten a thing you are not able, on the face of it, to perform, i.e. treat the native with gentle firmness, persuasive force, and masterful consideration, and you will get the best out of him, and cause him to respect himself while respecting you.

The native can love and he can hate; but he is neither a good lover nor a strong hater. His affections are neither steady nor permanent. He will, however, remember a wrong committed against him much longer than a good deed done to help him. He is moved more by fear of pain, by loss of material profit, and by public opinion than swayed by principles and arguments. He will float with the stream rather than continually struggle against it; but at the same time he can obstinately and doggedly follow a course that will result in physical pain, financial loss, and ridicule if he is once persuaded that his ultimate interests lie in that direction.

He is not lacking in gratitude, but he is afraid of displaying it lest a favour be asked of him in return. When you visit him he will remind you of the fact that you mended his broken leg or cured his disease, not to make it the basis of a generous act towards you, but rather as a plea to procure something extra out of you by awakening your further interest in him.

In some districts you will find he is more a liar than a thief, and if you investigate you will discover that the fines imposed for thieving are such as to deter him from following his inclination to steal. In other districts, where the native laws are more lax, he will excel both in thieving and lying, but he will readily admit they are vices worthy of stringent punishment, and will express his regret that the thief stole either from you or from himself, and at the same time he will be doing his best to rob you.

Before the unknown and mysterious he is timid and very superstitious. He will regard you as a god, and yet try to fight you; he will superstitiously believe that you have wonderful occult powers that can stop the rain, cause pestilence and plagues, and yet he will not attempt to conciliate you, but will savagely shout at you to clear out of his town and take your witchcraft elsewhere. When fighting with a gun he is timid, nervous, and apparently very cowardly, because he does not understand the mysteries of gunpowder; but give him a shield and a spear and his bravery is evidenced by his boldness in a fight, and his utter indifference to wounds and death. The mysterious overawes, paralyses him, but superstitious fears will often arouse the very demon of cruelty and vindictiveness, and incite to boldness and recklessness.

He lacks reverence, but is easily filled with awe and overcome by wonder. The stars in their courses make for him no song around the eternal throne; but the smoke ascending from his great bush-fires forming a halo round the sun will make him quake with fear because it is an omen of evil. The movements of the sun and the moon awaken no admiration in him; but exhibit some poor conjuring trick, or a shilling mechanical toy, and his eyes and mouth are not big enough to express his wonder.

He is prouder than Lucifer is reputed to be, and will resent the smallest slight put upon his so-called dignity. In a fit of overweening vanity he will sacrifice everything he possesses, and destroy all his future prospects to satisfy the pride of the moment. His family may be insignificant, his town paltry, himself small and dirty, but touch his pride and he will act as though he were un grand seigneur. He himself must be the judge of what hurts his pride, not you. He has his own code of honour and etiquette, difficult at times for you to understand, hence you wonder at some of the exhibitions of his pride.