[3] Now in the British Museum (Natural History).
CHAPTER VIII.
Across Uele.—Djabir to Ibembo.
Djabir is a disappointing place. Although very imposing from a distance it is being rebuilt at present and at close quarters it becomes obvious that some of the old houses are in a very bad state of repair. Some welcome newspapers meet us here and I am delighted to learn that the Government has passed the Licensing Bill and that the Japanese are still successful. The Sultan of Djabir sent his brother a young gentleman who has been educated and speaks French, to present a small ivory war-horn and to demand several times its value in cloth. Afterwards he sold us some other articles but, although he received full value for them he repented of his bargain next day and demanded them back again. Of course we let him take them. The Sultan himself seems to be equally difficult to deal with and although the State has given him the rank of Captain in the Force Publique and tried to humour him in every way he is not a good subject. His village has the usual characteristics with some signs of Arab civilisation.
Lord Mountmorres is now anxious to hasten to Bumba for the rest of the mail and if necessary to send a special courier to Coquilhatville with a cablegram while I arrange to follow more slowly and hunt the country in between. He therefore leaves Djabir on October 31st taking only one boy and a little baggage. It is a very hot day and at night-time a heavy tornado bursts over the Post. I wake up in a pool of water for the roof leaks badly and by bad luck just over my bed. Having moved this to a dry spot it is possible to sleep but not for long for the mosquito net was fixed to the wall where I left it forgetting the little pests. It is now a question of bites or water and as the latter seems cooler I replace the bed and fixing the roof of the net on the slope so that the heaviest part of the shower will run off, pass the rest of the night in comparative comfort. It is indeed time the place was rebuilt for at present Djabir has a depressing air of former greatness and present decay. As there are no elephants near and the antelopes are very small, I arrange to leave on November 1st but on starting to repack find many of the antelope skins are rotten and order them to be thrown away while the native lances and spears are covered with red rust, and have to be cleaned, smeared with palm oil and repacked.
I start next morning to cross Uele, but as it is impossible to obtain more than thirty five porters some of the baggage has to be left behind. The loads are carried here in rather a curious manner. The porters make a hand of coarse grass fibres and pass it over the crown of the head which is inclined forwards. The band is attached to the bale or box which itself rests on the back between the shoulders. Then leaning forward the porter, carrying 50 lbs, walks at 3-1/2 miles an hour over rough roads for three or four hours with scarcely a stop. Having crossed the river the caravan is formed and at once strikes along the path through the villages on the opposite bank to Djabir.
We are now on a frequented route and the villages and people show far more signs of the influence of the white man than those on the Ubangi. The huts are square, thatched with leaves and have verandahs while most of the men and many women wear clothes. The tatouage also is here very different for the vertical line on the forehead is not seen and a horizontal line of small elevations just above the level of the eyes is very common; there are however, various other devices on the cheeks and the lobes of the ears are sometimes pierced for the insertion of a ring of ivory nearly as large as a serviette ring. The natives are very polite, every single one giving a salute so that at the end of a long village one's arm aches with returning it. Chicken and eggs can be bought here for cloth at about the price one pays in an expensive shop in London. Some of the natives said nothing and were satisfied while others grumbled but did not take back their goods. One man sold nine eggs for about 2/- of which only three were fit to eat and demanded 4/- for a chicken little larger than a pigeon.
The natives here seem to have been spoilt by the whites who must have given them very high prices for food at first, and these have never been reduced. Naturally demand and supply affect the price considerably. A native refused to sell us a duck at Coquilhatville for 14/-, for ducks are rare. On the other hand in remote villages rarely visited by white men, the people will sometimes give two chickens for an empty wine bottle and would practically sell themselves for salt so fond are they of that substance. This they eat alone and relish immensely for the native salt is very unpleasant. It is made from water lilies and certain forms of grass which are burnt slowly under a fire, the resulting ash containing a large quantity of sodium chloride. It is however, mixed with sulphur, charcoal and other impurities and to remove these the ash is placed in water when the sodium chloride and other soluble salts enter into solution. This is then evaporated to dryness in the sun and forms native salt.
Once clear of the line of villages which extend for two or three miles, the path enters dense forest and the walk becomes pleasant. Palms are abundant and the «parasol» tree very common. Overhead are pigeons, a few ducks and, as usual, thousands of parrots. I shot a few either for the larder or for their skins all of which fell in the dense undergrowth. Without a retriever these were no doubt difficult to find but it was curious that the birds with beautiful feathers and indifferent flesh were always picked up while the ducks and pigeons usually could not be found. All the porters returned along this path the next day and perhaps were then more successful and enjoyed the game which would not be harmed by hanging for a day in a tree. The road is a good one being sometimes five or six feet wide and most of the marshes and streams are crossed by rude wooden bridges formed by trunks of trees laid parallel to each other.