Congo life and folklore

by John H. Weeks

Bakula so enthused his few scholars that at the end of the dry season they decided to band together and build a grass hut in which to hold their school during the coming rains. It was no small bit of work for a few lads, with poor tools, to undertake. Rafters, king posts, stanchions, and wall plates had to be cut in the forests and conveyed into the town on their heads or shoulders; grass must be cut, dried, combed and carried from the bush to the site; and string had to be prepared from forest vines and swamp reeds.

Then there was a floor to be raised and beaten, holes to be dug, and all the materials fitted and tied together to form the hut. It was a simple structure with no windows, but a large door that answered all purposes, and the boys were proud of it. If you had seen it you might have laughed at it; but could you have built a better one with the same tools and materials?

Every morning the school was opened with prayer, singing, and the reading of a portion from the Gospel of Matthew--the only Gospel then translated into the language of the people. Occasionally men and women came, and, standing about the door, listened to the simple service. Many ridiculed the whole palaver; a few, however, were impressed, and came repeatedly; and, encouraged by them, Bakula started a Sunday service; but out of more than 1,500 people in the town, only from ten to twenty attended it.

One day Bakula’s heart was gladdened by the arrival of one of the missionaries on his way from the Ngombe district to the King’s town. He was trying to open up the country, visiting the towns and preaching in them as opportunity offered. Satu welcomed him heartily, and Bakula and his small class of scholars were delighted to see him. The missionary examined the school, and by his presence and words of praise encouraged the teacher and his pupils to continue their efforts.

The white man had long talks with Satu, and suggested that the next day a crier should be sent through the town to invite the people to come and hear God’s palaver. The time, however, was not ripe for such a service, for only a few responded, and they came more to ingratiate themselves with their chief than to listen to the white man.

This white man was a zealous teacher, thoroughly in earnest and well acquainted with the people’s language. No opportunity was missed by him of speaking to the twos and threes. Here he was to be found in conversation with some swaggering young men, there talking to a few old men, and again in another place arguing with some of the head men. He was a man of great attainments and wide knowledge, yet he exhibited no annoyance as he dealt with their puny reasoning, and unfolded the weak places in their arguments. He was like a giant handling pigmies, tenderly and persuasively. Bakula was sorry when his visitor had to pass on his way to other towns, and to open up the road across country upon which his heart was set; but the young teacher never forgot the words of encouragement he received from the white man in their private talks.

A short time after this visit the “luck fowl” (or nsusu a zumbi) belonging to one of the head men died without any apparent reason. It had probably eaten unwisely, or had been bitten by a snake; but the owner put it to the credit of the white men who had just visited their town. Everybody remembered that, immediately after the promised visit of the white man whom they had previously driven out of the town, a pig died.

They argued thus: "A white man came to us with God’s palaver, and a pig died soon after he left; another white man came on the same errand, and before many days had passed a ‘luck fowl’ died, therefore it was most foolish to have anything to do with God’s palaver." They conveniently forgot all the pigs and “luck fowls” that had died before the white men ever came near them, and only remembered these two that had died after their visits.

There was a great to-do in the town over the unfortunate death of this “luck fowl.” The owner raved against the school that had been opened by Bakula, against the visits of the white men, and against the introduction of new ideas of any kind. The more superstitious folk in the place combined to close the school and pull down the school-house. Many were indifferent to the whole matter, and a few were for letting the boys alone. There was much discussion; but the party for the “medicine men,” the fetishes, the charms, and for maintaining the status quo being the larger, the noisier, and more dominant faction, gained their point, and, while demolishing the school, destroyed as many books and slates as fell into their possession.

Poor Bakula was nonplussed by this calamity, and the other boys for a time were disheartened; but there is a great amount of grit and determination in the Congo character, and before long the lads were meeting in Bakula’s house for their lessons and for such teaching as their young tutor could give them.