The world of the great forest

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

Some of the old ones were by themselves. There was one hanging to a branch of a tree by one arm. Suddenly one of his companions, getting hold of his legs, hung by them, the branch bending heavily down with the combined weight of the two. “Let go! Get away!” shouted the upper one with all his lungs. “You are too heavy. I am going to drop. My hands cannot hold the branch much longer.” When the other heard this, he laughed at his friend and let go and dropped. Another one would raise himself with his arms, climb over his fellow, and then run off pursued by the angry ndova, who did not like to have such tricks played on him. Then both would stop, glare at each other, and peace was made.

Some of the ndovas were hanging downward, looking at their friends underneath, who were quiet and holding a conversation. Others were looking searchingly in the skin of a comrade who was lying on his back on a big limb of a tree and picking out any little thing they saw in his fur. They all seemed to enjoy this immensely, especially the one lying on his back. He had the best of it. He loved to be scratched.

A number were very lively, and were running after one another, to see which could run the fastest and escape. They shouted: “You cannot catch me. I dare you.” They would leap from one branch to another, then stop and grin at their companions who could not catch them. These were the young members of the troop. A good meal did not make them lazy.

Some ndovas made queer grimaces at each other. Others were quarrelling for one reason and another. They uttered sounds of defiance and were full of fight, daring and tantalizing one another, their angry eyes almost sticking out of their sockets.

One or two ndovas lay on their backs, quietly resting on a heavy limb of a tree, holding to a branch to steady themselves or so as not to tumble down. Suddenly they were seen by some other ndovas above, who came and disturbed them. Then came a short fight.

Their chief was quietly looking on at his followers. All at once he gave a cry of alarm well known among the ndovas, which meant, “Let us be off; there is danger.” There was a cry of fear from the other ndovas and a general stampede, all going to the left from the danger, for that peculiar cry of the chief meant they were to run from the right.

It was which among them could run the fastest. They leaped from tree to tree, from the extremity of one branch to the end of another branch, and so the whole troop went on. They were in full flight and going as fast as they could. It did not take them long to get out of the supposed danger and far from the place. When they thought they were safe, they slackened their speed.

Suddenly a peculiar sound or cry was uttered by their chief, which meant for them to stop. Then when they had come together he said to them, “We had a narrow escape. A huge tree omemba [serpent] was coming toward us.” They rested a little while and then continued their journey toward the Land of Plenty. They came to a cluster of trees loaded with nuts and all uttered cries of joy at the sight. Their chief had led them right; they were not to starve. They broke the shells and ate the kernels with great avidity. When their appetites were satisfied they filled the pouches inside of their cheeks until the skin of these was so distended that they could hold no more.

“If we do not find food,” said they, “we will eat the nuts that we have stored in our pouches. How nice it is for us to have such pouches, so that we can carry provisions with us and eat them on the way when hungry!”

Then they resumed their journey, for the Land of Plenty was still far away. “Let us hurry as fast as we can,” they said, “so as to be the first on the spot.”