Congo life and folklore

by John H. Weeks

The preceding part of this narrative unfolds the prejudices, superstitions and evil practices rife on the Congo thirty years ago, while the following chapters indicate the progress that has been made in christianizing the people and leading them to higher and better things.]

After burying Bakula on that sad night, Tumbu carried me back to his hut; but being afraid to wear me lest he should be accused of robbing a dead body, he secretly polished me, and, wrapping me in an old rag, concealed me beneath the earth in a corner of his house, hoping no doubt some day, when all fear of detection had passed away, to take me out and wear me in memory of his friend.

How long I lay buried I know not; but my finder was a sturdily built, pleasant-faced young man whose name I heard later was Mikula. When he had rubbed me clean of all my accumulated dirt, and found that I was good solid brass, he well polished my sides and wound me in graceful rings round his wrist.

I discovered afterwards that my new owner was digging the foundations of a brick house when he happened upon me. Mikula had been taught on the mission station, and had learned there, among other things, the arts of brickmaking and bricklaying, and now he had returned to his home he was busy building a brick house into which he hoped to bring his future wife. He had already made and burnt several thousands of bricks, and was hurrying forward the building of the walls so as to roof in the house before the rainy season commenced.

What a change had passed over the town! I scarcely recognized it for the same place. Here and there were comfortable brick houses, a few plank ones, and many others of wattle and daub nicely colour-washed, while the grass huts were larger and very neatly made. And as Mikula walked through the town that evening I noticed that many of the homes were lighted either with candles or lamps, and families--father, mother and children--were sitting around one common table partaking together of their food; those families that could not afford artificial light sat together round their fires.

Occasionally we came upon some who maintained the old state of things--broken up families, the male and female members of which still sat and ate their food apart from each other.

At six o’clock every morning a small bell rang out, calling the natives to morning prayers before they started their daily employments. Mikula, who was a deacon of the Church, had charge of the religious work in his own town, and performed voluntarily the duties of a pastor of the Church and teacher of the school.

About a hundred men, women and young people gathered every morning for worship--a hymn was sung, a portion of the New Testament was read and commented on, a short prayer was offered either by Mikula or one of the Christians, and another hymn brought the simple service to a close. After that the women went to their farms and the men to their various occupations. Who can measure the influence such services exerted over the lives of the folk who attended them? Their horizon was no longer confined to the trivial affairs of their former mean lives, but extended to the boundless reaches of heaven and God’s own eternity; their thoughts no longer grovelled in the trough of lustful desires and evil passions, but were lifted to higher, purer and more spiritual concerns; and their aims were no longer wholly selfish--set on attaining many women and much wealth,--but they gave their time, energy and money that their heathen neighbours might enjoy the same blessings that had come into their lives, and had transformed them, by a wondrous alchemy, from base metal to beautiful gold.

On Sundays the Christians refrained from farm work, visiting the markets, trading, and any other form of labour that would desecrate the Lord’s day; and a large number of those who were not professing Christians also observed the day; but there were still many who clung to the old state of things, who farmed, toiled and traded on that day as though they had never heard of a day of rest.

During the Sabbath afternoon the bell rang out, and more than three hundred natives attended the service which was held in a large brick building that had been raised and paid for by the native Christians themselves. What a pride they seemed to take in their "House of God"! The walls were colour-washed and decorated with pictures of the life of Christ; the doors and windows, which were of native carpentry, were nicely painted, and the roof was of corrugated iron sheets that they had bought with their own hard-earned money. There stood their “House of God” on the finest site, in the very heart of the town.