At last, when my patience was entirely gone, and my few clothes literally hanging in ribbons about me, my legs sadly wounded, and my face and hands scratched, we arrived at the camp of the Mbondemos, situated almost at the foot of the mountain.
These mountains were covered with an immense forest; and so thick were the trees that no open view could be obtained in any direction. The mountains ended somewhere in the interior, no one knew where, but this they knew, that it was near the home of the Fans, a cannibal tribe, and that elephants were plentiful, and gorillas were occasionally seen there. This encampment of the Mbondemos was called an Olako. There was not a house in the camp, and it was a romantic scene to look at. Scattered under huge trees, on the edge of the woods, were leafy shelters, opening towards the forest. Under these the people lived. A few sticks put close together formed their beds. They contrived to sleep upon them, and I did the same. I assure you that they were hard enough, and reminded me that a mattress was a very good thing. Every family had its fire prepared beside the beds; and around these fires in the evening they clustered, men, women, and children.
The chief of this Mbondemo encampment was called Mbéné, and I liked him very much. He was very kind to me, and always tried to furnish me with food. There was scarcity of provisions, at the time, in the camp of the Mbondemos. There were no plantain and cassada fields near, and often I had to go without breakfast or dinner. The people lived chiefly on the nuts of the forest, and at that season of the year these were very scarce.
Poor Mbéné said they had very little to eat, but would give me what they could. I had carried with me a few little crackers, which I found very precious, more precious than gold, and which I reserved for time of sickness; but one by one they disappeared. I looked at them every time I took one; but I felt so hungry that I could not refrain from eating them.
Have you known what hunger is—real craving hunger? I can assure you it is a dreadful feeling.
During that time of the year, this people had half the time nothing to eat but the nut of a kind of palm.
This nut was so bitter I could scarcely eat it. It is shaped like an egg, with rounded ends. To prepare it for eating, it is divested of its husk, and soaked in water for twenty-four hours, when it loses part of its exceedingly bitter taste, and becomes tolerably palatable, that is, to a starving man. Sometimes hunger will make them eat the nut without soaking it. I have done so myself, when lost in the forest. It is dreadfully disagreeable.
Now and then, the women succeeded in getting a few little fish in the streams, and gave me some. I could bear a good deal, for I had firmly resolved to go into the cannibal country.
These Mbondemos are continually moving their villages. Mbéné has moved his village three times within a few years. I asked him why he made these frequent changes. He said he moved the first time because a man had died, and the place was "not good" after that event. The second time he was forced to move because they had cut down all the palm trees, and would get no more mimbo (palm wine), a beverage of which they are excessively fond. They tap the palm, just as the maple tree is tapped in America, only they tap the tree at the top. This palm wine has somewhat of a milky colour; and, when drunk in great quantity, it intoxicates. The palm trees are very plentiful all over this part of the country, and it seems easier for them to move than to take care of the trees surrounding their settlements, useful as they are to them; for they furnish not only the wine they love, but the bitter nut I mentioned before, which often keeps them from actual starvation. When the tree is cut down they get what we call the palm cabbage which grows at the top. When cooked this palm cabbage is very good.
A country which has plenty of palm trees, plenty of game, a good river or rivulet, and plenty of fish, is the country for a Mbondemo settler or squatter.