Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

There was a grand Apingi dance that night, and no sleep for me.

After two days spent at Agobi's village we began to ascend the river again, but the current was so swift that we hardly seemed to make any headway. There was a good deal of shouting, hollaing, and cursing in the Apingi language before we fairly left the shore. The banks of this noble stream, down to the water's edge, were a mass of verdure. I began to congratulate myself that there would be no capsizing, and that I was not going to take a bath in the river. Our canoe was, as I have said, ahead of all the others, when suddenly a canoe, which was crossing the river from the left bank, came close to us. We thought, however, that it would pass above our bow, but it was borne down by the current, and, before we could get out of the way, swept down upon us in spite of the shouts of Remandji and his man. The canoe had only an old woman in it. Bang! bang! and before I had time to say "Look out," both canoes were capsized, and there we were in the river.

Remandji was perfectly frantic, cursing the old woman while he was swimming. She did not in the least mind what he said, but swam off down stream like a buoy, shouting continually, "Where is my bunch of plantains? Give me back my plantains!" for I must say that, if we were angry at her, and blamed her for the accident, she was equally angry at us for the same reason, each thinking it was the other's fault.

The whole fleet was in great excitement, and Remandji was in a fearful rage at the idea of any one upsetting his moguizi. I was still in the water, holding on to the canoe as hard as I could, looking after the old woman, who soon reached the shore, and, climbing out at a bend of the river, waited for her capsized canoe to float along, which having secured, she got in and paddled off, full of complaints at losing her plantains, and, of course, blaming us for it. Remandji kept telling her all the time (I give you the literal translation, for the negroes do not mince words) to shut her mouth; but the more he told her to keep still, the more she talked.

As for me, I at last succeeded in reaching the shore, Remandji securing the canoe. Nothing was lost, and my gun was safe; it was not loaded, for which I was thankful.

It was a good thing that we had kept close to the banks of the river, for if we had capsized in the middle of the stream we should have gone a mile or two down the river before reaching the shore. I was not sorry when we got back to Remandji's village, and his people were very glad to see us return.

I do not know what these Apingis will think about me next. Remandji was a very intelligent fellow. As I am writing about him, I fancy I see his face and that I am talking to him. Remandji was not a very tall negro. He was white-headed, with a mild expression of countenance, very kind to his people, and respected by all his tribe. If there was any quarrel among them, they would come to him to settle it.

As you have seen, there was some fine hunting in his country. Leopards were somewhat plentiful in the forest, and one day I said to the king, "Remandji, I must go and hunt leopards, for I want their skins." He immediately asked, pointing to my coat, if I wanted a coat made of leopard's skin. I said no. Then he left me, and a little while after came back with a man, and said, "It is of no use for you to go into the jungle, for we want to see you all the time. Here is a man who has a big fetich, which enables him to kill all the leopards he wants without the fear of being killed by them." I burst out laughing. The man said, "Laugh, O spirit; but you will see."

The next morning, before starting, he came to show himself. When he made his appearance he began a most curious dance, talking sometimes very loud, at other times in a whisper, and making as many contortions as it is possible for a man to do. I could hardly recognize him. He did not look at all like the man of the day before. He was painted with ochre—half the body yellow, the other half red; one side of his face was red, the other white. On his head he had a covering made entirely of long feathers from the tails of strange birds. Round his neck and shoulders hung an iron chain, each link being about one inch long, and oval. To this chain was suspended the skin of an animal which I had never seen, called ndesha, a species of large wild-cat found in the forest. It was spotted somewhat like the skin of a leopard, but the ground part was reddish. The only portion that could be seen was that part near the tail, which hung down. In this skin was tied a wonderful fetich, which no other man possessed, and by which he was able, as I have said, to slay the leopards. The name of the man was Okabi. So I said, "Okabi, show me this monda." He replied that no one could see that monda, for if they did they would try to make one like it.

Round his waist he wore a belt made of a leopard's skin, which had been cut from the head, along the spine, to the tail. They believe that no spear can go through such belts. They are very much prized, each warrior placing great value upon his personal safety.