Among Congo cannibals

by John H. Weeks

If the man who has a case is not a good speaker he can engage an advocate (ntendeko = go-between) to speak on his behalf for a fee of from 200 to 300 brass rods a day. Such men are natural orators, and it is a pleasure to hear them speak and see their graceful actions.

When all is ready the parties take up their positions opposite each other, and the plaintiff will open the proceedings by stating his case, and calling on witnesses, if he has any, to confirm his statements. The speaker holds in his hand a small bunch of palm-frond leaves, and as each point is rounded off he lays a leaflet on the ground in front of him. When he makes a telling point against his opponent his followers clap their hands, shout, laugh, and snap their fingers at each other, and the wits of the party hurl quips, jokes, gibes, and proverbs at the opposite side, and try to look as though it were impossible to lose such a strong case so lucidly stated. These breaks give the speaker a breathing time in which to collect his thoughts and gain strength for the next point. So the speaker will go on stating point after point until there are twelve or fifteen leaflets on the ground, all lying in the order of his arguments. Before sitting down he will briefly state the argument that each leaflet represents, and it is rarely that he makes a mistake in the order, and if he does those sitting close by will instantly correct him.

If not too late in the day the defendant states his case, combating his opponent’s arguments, calls his witnesses, puts down his leaflets one by one, and rests while his followers indulge in bantering the other side. Interruptions are frequent, noisy, and often come to the verge of violence. At a biting sarcasm, or a bitter retort, spears and knives will shake (for all the men present are well armed), and more than once I have been sent for to intervene at a critical moment and to stop bloodshed or a general mêlée. Many a time has an old chief come to my door and said: “White man, they are fighting; come and stop them.” And my wife has often thought I was badly wounded in the scuffle, for in pushing my way among them the red camwood powder would be transferred from their bodies to my coat, and would show up like blood on my white garment.

The jury of head-men, after the defendant has finished, withdraw to go over the evidence pro and con, and to consider their verdict; and on their return a couple of men with fine wood-ashes, or powdered camwood on leaves, take up positions—one near the plaintiff and the other near the defendant. The appointed chief judge will sum up the case and give the verdict, say, in favour of the defendant, and instantly the man sitting near him will rub, with more vigour than gentleness, the wood-ashes or camwood powder over the face of the winner as a sign to all that he is acquitted of the charge brought against him. He will leave the mess on his face for days as a proof, to all and sundry, of his acquittal. The loser of the case refunds the winner all his expenses, pays the judge and jury of chiefs, and is a poorer if not sadder and wiser man.

There appears to be no cross-examination of witnesses, no guarantee of truthfulness, and no punishment for perjury. Each side starts away in the far-distant past, and drags in as much irrelevant matter as possible, and thus fogs, confuses and entangles the case to the best of his abilities. The ordeal is at times resorted to in order to decide involved cases, and from the results of the ordeal there is no appeal. Sometimes, after one or two days’ hearing, the jury is not able (or is afraid) to decide a case satisfactorily in favour of either side, and then it is dismissed—each side bearing its own expenses.

There is nothing resembling an oath administered to witnesses, and there are no modes of punishing perjury, hence witnesses are seldom called upon to give evidence in a case, and when they are put forward no one on the opposite side and no judge accepts their statements as true. In ordinary cases the judge and jury of head-men decide the case on their own knowledge of the affair (and the arguments of the plaintiffs and defendants), for they are fully in touch with all local matters, and only local cases are laid before them. In complicated palavers they resort to the ordeals, which are as follows: (1) Nka (Lower Congo nkasa), which among the Boloki was the outer reddish skin of the rootlet of a certain tree carefully scraped off.

A few years ago I had the opportunity of witnessing a rather complicated discussion and cross-accusation settled, to the satisfaction of all the natives present, by the parties concerned drinking, or rather eating, the ordeal. The trial took place on neutral ground, i.e. in a section of the town midway between the sections in which lived the parties who were concerned. The court-house was a wide-spreading wild fig tree that threw a shade over the whole of the gathered crowd, which formed an oblong figure. The plaintiff stood at one end with his supporters, the defendant at the other with his, and the two sides were occupied by neutral spectators and sympathizers.

The case was as follows: The plaintiff had two slaves run away, and after some days he heard that these slaves had escaped in a canoe belonging to the defendant, so he accused the latter of aiding and abetting their escape, and wanted him to pay the price of the slaves. The defendant, on the other hand, desired the plaintiff to pay him back a canoe, or the price of it, as he said it had been stolen by the plaintiff’s slaves. For three hours they discussed the matter and tried to arrange an amicable compromise; this, however, was impossible, as each wished to get the best of the bargain. From the very nature of the case it was impossible to call witnesses, although many persons spoke on either side. At last it was decided that the parties should take the ordeal (nka). Each was so confident of the righteousness of his claims that he was willing and eager to eat his portion of the poisonous drug to support them. The plaintiff was a short, thick-set young man troubled with elephantiasis, and from that and his apparent nervousness he was greatly handicapped in the trial. The defendant was a tall, thin, wiry man about fifty years of age, who had, I think, often taken the nka before, and was inured to it.

The ordeal drug used was the outer skin of the rootlets of a tree that was to be found up the Lulanga River—a tributary that enters the Congo River on the south some forty miles below the Monsembe district. When scraped off the rootlets it is very fluffy and of a deep scarlet colour. Two “medicine men” prepared equal portions of the nka. There was about a tablespoonful in each portion. The accused had first choice, after which each “medicine man” with a portion of the nka in the palm of his hand took up his position by the side of his client, and at a given signal the portions of the ordeal were simultaneously held to the mouth of the two opponents, and at the same moment they began to chew the drug. After chewing for a few moments each washed it down with gulps of sugar-cane wine.

After taking the ordeal the men were not allowed to sit down, nor to lean against anything, nor even to touch anything with their hands. The ordeal given in the above quantity blurs the vision, distorting and enlarging all objects, makes the legs tremble, the head giddy, and gives a choking sensation in the throat and chest. In fact, it gives all the symptoms of intoxication, and a few more besides. The one who first becomes intoxicated and falls down loses his case, and the one who resists the effects of the drug and controls himself the longest wins.