I asked them where they came from, and they said that their village was situated on the shores of a big river, that they had been sold for two brass kettles, and had come to King Mombo all the way by water, being bartered from one tribe to another, each tribe giving more and more goods for them as they came down the river, the price of slaves increasing always as they come nearer the sea.
Here an Ishogo slave got up, and said: “Oguizi, the strangest people who live in the forest are the Obongos, a race of pigmies. They never grow tall, never plant anything like other men, and live only on fruits, berries, and nuts. They wander continually in the forest in search of these, and do not even live one moon [month] at the same place.
“They have little villages, but their houses are not like ours, they are so small”—and, raising his hands to a certain height, I understood that the houses of the pigmies were not more than three feet in height, and the doors or openings of these through which they go inside were not more than twelve or fifteen inches from the ground.
“How can that be?” I said. “Then the Obongos must be scarcely more than a foot in height.”
“They are taller than that,” the Ishogo replied, “but when they enter their houses they lie flat on their stomachs and creep like snakes, or bend very low.” Then, making a gesture with his hands, he gave me to understand that they were between three feet and a half and four feet tall.
Then an Apinji and an Oshango slave rose and testified to the truth of the narrative and the Apinji said: “These little people are called Ashoongas by us.”
“Who amongst all the tribes are the best fighters?” I inquired.
“The cannibals first,” they all shouted—“then the Bakolai, then the Shekianis.”
“Do all the tribes when they make war kill only warriors?”
“No,” they replied; “they kill old men, women, and children also.”