“The white men have very strong magic, surpassing the magic of our people; but if the white men were not here, very few, if any, of our people would die. Why, a friend of mine told me all about it the other day. He said: ‘In the sea there is a hole,[[8]] and the white man goes in his steamer to this hole and rings a bell, and the water sprites push up the end of a piece of cloth, and the white man pulls on it one day, two days, three days, until he has enough cloth, and then he cuts it off and measures it into pieces, and binds it into the bales, as we see in their stores. But before he leaves the hole he throws into it some bodies he has bought in our country.’ Yes, the white men are very wicked, and don’t you have anything to do with them. Why, all your relatives who have died are now, perhaps, slaves in Mputu, and some day you may be the same.”
A thrill of horror went through the gaping crowd as the old man in graphic language and with dramatic gestures told these things. When he had gained his breath he began again.
“The other day I heard of some exceedingly wicked white men who pretend to tell people about God, white men who will give you medicine if you ask for it, and will teach you in a school how to read and write, and will even take you into their houses and clothe and feed you. Beware of those white men, for they are only trying to secure you, and you will soon die and become their slaves in Mputu. The other white men say: ‘We have come for rubber and ivory,’ and we receive plenty of trade goods from them in return for our rubbish; but these very wicked ones say: ‘We have only come to tell you about the great God, and to help you.’ They are more crafty, cunning and wicked than the others. Keep away from them always, or you will quickly die!”
By the time the old man had finished there was a large circle of horror-stricken natives around him, who, with many a cry of rage and hatred against such evil doings, promised never to go near such wicked wretches as these white men were, and with many an oath they threatened they would kill them if ever they had the opportunity.
Soon after this the fires were replenished, and men and boys curled themselves in their mats and cloths, and went to sleep dreaming of the cruel wickedness of white men. And all through the night the river went gliding by to the great Congo and on to the sea to lose itself in the waters of the Atlantic; and it took no warning to the white men who were leaving home, friends, and family to tell such as those who slept on its banks of the great and good God.
Chapter IV
We reach the Town of my Owner
Crossing the Mpalabala hills--The head man knocks his toes--It is an evil omen--He visits the “medicine man”--Finds his brother dying--Last hours of the dying chief.
The next morning was dull and damp--a weeping morning, and every one shivered with the cold as they hastily picked up their loads and prepared for the steep ascent that would take them over a spur of the Mpalabala mountains. The road was a narrow track, steep and stony; huge boulders were often in the path, and had to be climbed over or avoided by detours, thus making the way difficult and tiring. By ten o’clock the sun was shining brilliantly on the white stones, making the eyes ache with their glare and the body perspire with their reflected heat. The men panted beneath their burdens from the heat, and water was very scarce.
By midday we had passed the steep and wearisome hills of Mpalabala and were camped in the valley by a pleasant stream.
Just before arriving at the resting-place the head trader unfortunately struck his toes against a stone, and, being very superstitious, he was filled with horror at the evil omen. It was the general subject of conversation as to what this omen predicted. One thought that a wife of the head trader was dead; another suggested that his house and goods were destroyed by fire; and thus they prophesied one evil after another until Satu--the poor fellow who had struck his toes--could hardly rest at the midday halt; and he certainly put on a very woebegone appearance, for he had no doubt some great misfortune had befallen him or was about to happen to him. This fear so played on his mind that he had disturbed sleep and bad dreams that night; and often started out of a nightmare screaming that his sister or his wife was dead, or his house was burnt to the ground.