The jungle folk of Africa

by Robert H. Milligan

“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”

Before we reached the most secluded part of the river, and while there was still a small town to be passed, I ordered the headman to go close into the bank away from the current until we should pass a turn in the river. When I came close to the bank I said I would land here. They knew, of course, that this was not my destination, and they supposed that I would continue the journey in a few minutes. But as soon as I had landed I ordered them back to Nenge Nenge, and I proceeded in a small canoe which I hired at the town near by. Thus I avoided the possibility of being cut off in the flower of my youth. Or, it may be that I missed an adventure that I should have been proud to tell afterwards.

I often found the whole town engaged in dancing, of which they are passionately fond. It is not only their chief amusement, but also serves for physical culture, and accounts for their well-developed forms and graceful carriage. A great dancer among them becomes widely known, and is as highly esteemed as a virtuoso among us. I was one day teaching the people in a town where there were four Christians, when my attention was arrested by a good-looking and singularly well-developed man coming towards us down the street. I had not seen in Africa nearly so fine a form. He was graceful as he walked, and much more so when he threw himself down on the ground. He seemed to me a very Apollo Belvidere in ebony. They told me that he was a famous dancer. He had applied himself with diligence and extraordinary perseverance to the practice of all the difficult movements of the native dance until he was the envy of the men of his tribe. It was probably his persistent application to this practice, and his constancy of purpose, that gave to his face an unusual expression of gravity and strength.

I was reminded of the story told by Addison of a shepherd who used to divert himself by tossing up eggs and catching them again without breaking them; in which he became so skillful that he could keep up four at a time for several minutes together; and who, by his perseverance and application had contracted the utmost severity and gravity of countenance. “That same attention and perseverance,” says Addison, “had they been rightly applied, might have made him a greater mathematician than Archimedes.”

My native friend, for such he became, remained after the service to talk with me. He had come from his town five miles through the bush on purpose to meet me. He said he had been in this town frequently, and had heard those four Christians telling the people about God and the salvation of Christ, and he desired to be a Christian. He afterwards put away an extra wife, and he also renounced his dancing, for their dances are associated with certain immoralities. We never know in what unlikely place the Shepherd will find His sheep. Our duty is to declare His Word in every place, and His sheep will hear His voice and follow Him.

But if I frequently found the people engaged in the noisy dance, I sometimes found the whole town steeped in sleep. One day I entered a town that was like a city of the dead; absolutely quiet, and no one to be seen. I walked the length of the town, thrusting my head in at every door, and asking the people to come out and hear God’s message; but only one man came. At last I asked this man if he would go and call the people. He started down the street, calling men and women by name as he passed, telling individuals in aloud voice their particular need of this preaching service, because of their personal sins, which he forthwith enumerated and charged upon them, exposing the private wickedness of men and women in brief biographical sketches, which it might be interesting but not edifying to repeat. I need not say that they responded to this urgent invitation. In a few minutes the whole population was in the street, eloquent with resentment. One might think that they had the tenderest reputations to sustain. I would not commend to my fellow ministers in America this novel method of securing a congregation.

But how would one preach to such an audience? or what would one say? I am often asked. Well, that day I asked the people what kind of a king they would choose, if God should give them their choice. After some discussion they settled upon the idea of power. They would like a king who would be stronger than all their enemies, and especially stronger than the Mpongwe people. Then I taught them that Jesus whom God had sent is such a one; and I told them how He stilled the storm. Next, I asked them whether power alone would be sufficient. They first thought it would. “But,” I said, “suppose your king had no sense. Do you put a gun into the hands of a child? And would you like to see a foolish person armed with power that none of you could resist?”

“Oh,” they said, looking at one another, “we never thought of that,” and it was soon agreed that the king of their choice must be wise as well as powerful. Then I said that Jesus was wise with the wisdom of God, knowing all our needs and how to supply them. Again I asked if this was all they would desire in their king, that he be powerful and wise. They were quite sure.

“But,” I said, “suppose he were bad? that he loved only himself and robbed and killed you?”