The jungle folk of Africa

by Robert H. Milligan

They remained silent as I withdrew, until I reached the end of the village street, and then again, they all began to chant the mourning dirge.

When the members of the Gaboon Church die they are buried in the mission graveyard on Baraka hill. The reason of this concession on the part of the mission was probably to enable them to control the burial service of Christians that it might be a Christian and not a heathen ceremony. They regard it as a sacred privilege. Nduna was not a member in the church, and none but members had ever been buried at Baraka. But I broke the rule, and told Aruwi that, if she wished, Nduna would be buried at Baraka. And there we buried him that evening. The civilized Mpongwe have a funeral custom that I like. When the casket is lowered and immediately after the benediction, coming forward, they drop a handful of earth into the grave. It is a simple and affecting ceremony and has no superstitious significance. But during all my years at Gaboon there was no other funeral at which so many came forward in silence and dropped a handful of earth into the grave as they seemed to say: “Good-bye, Nduna; you suffered greatly; may you rest in peace.”

BOJEDI, TEACHER OF FANG SCHOOL.

He frankly admits the superiority of the white man, but thinks that the black man is far better-looking.

But by far the best teacher I ever had in the school, and without doubt the best native teacher in the entire mission, was Bojedi, a Kombi of Benito, to which tribe Makuba also belonged. Bojedi was twenty years old when I engaged him as a teacher and he stayed with me two years, until I left Africa. He was so well qualified by education and so competent in mind and disposition that I gradually put the whole work of the school upon him, except the religious teaching, which left me more time for itinerating and the oversight and care of the Christians scattered in many towns. Bojedi had faults that I do not mean to pass by, but without him the greatly enlarged work of those last two years could never have been done; and there was probably not in West Africa a native who could have taken his place. Of all the natives who taught or assisted in the school he was the only one whom the schoolboys respected and obeyed as they would a white man. His interest and his efforts far exceeded his prescribed duties. He had charge of the seventy-five boys, both in the schoolroom and out of it, twenty-four hours a day. He was there when they rose and when they went to bed. He insisted upon cleanliness as to their persons, their beds, their food and the manner of eating it. He oversaw their work in the yard, chiefly that of cutting grass, and would not allow any boy to shirk his work. Their most serious disputes he referred to me, but most of them he settled himself, to my immense relief, and they all recognized him as fair. Under his constant supervision these boys, fresh from the worst heathenism, were compelled to live a civilized life. And this he accomplished without force. I never knew him to strike a boy, nor ever did I know him to lose his temper. If he kept a boy in school after hours for not knowing his lesson he stayed with him himself and helped him with his study. Without my asking it he gathered them into the school in the evening for an hour’s study, himself helping the duller boys. He had faults, as I have said, but there were none in his teaching or his discipline of the boys.

Bojedi was educated in our mission school at Benito. Among the missionaries of that station there was a French teacher, Mr. Presset, from whom Bojedi received much of his education. Unlike most Africans he was a student by nature, and afterwards while he was so busy teaching in my school he was also pursuing his studies in mathematics and astronomy. The most that he got from me was music, which was always his pastime. He had received some instruction in music from Mr. Presset, who gave him access to his organ. When he came to Gaboon I placed in his house a baby-organ of my own, and finding that he had unusual musical talent I began to give him occasional lessons. He made much progress and played so well that when I was leaving Africa I left the organ and most of my organ music with him. He played for the singing in school and also in the Mpongwe Sunday-school.

While Bojedi was still in the school at Benito he was brought into undue prominence with the French government in a way that reflected credit upon his scholarship and incidentally landed him in jail with hard labour. France, it is said, rules for revenue, and this would seem to be her policy in the Congo Français. A heavy duty is levied on imports and exports for the purpose of revenue, resulting soon in commercial stagnation—and no revenue. The Congo Français is a large and increasing expense to France. The natives pay taxes upon their houses according to the size and improvements. Each door and each window is taxed. A certain native of Gaboon, an enterprising young man, who wished to live in civilized fashion, put a floor in his house. But he was taxed so much for it that he took it out and went back to the earth floor.

The taxes at Benito were heavy enough, but the local chef de poste had been collecting far more than was required. The man was probably full of malaria and had become very irritable; like many of the government officials he was in need of a long furlough home. Burning native towns was a favourite pastime. If the people did not pay their taxes promptly he burned their towns, leaving men, women and children without shelter. If they paid promptly he required more and when it was not immediately forthcoming he burned their towns. If he called them to him, and they were afraid to come, he burned their towns. If for any reason, or no reason, he doubted that they loved him dearly, he burned their towns. The illumination was a superb entertainment for his friends. He burned towns not in the execution of law, but of his own degenerate will, governed only by a malarious temper.

At last a number of local chiefs addressed a complaint to the administrator at Bata, who was superior to the chef de poste. Bojedi, at the request of the chiefs, composed and wrote the letter, which I believe they signed. The administrator sent the letter to the chef de poste who upon reading it did not think for a moment that any native could have written it. There was only one white man in the region of Benito to whom it could possibly be attributed; and that was Mr. Presset of our mission at Benito. To make sure of the matter he compared the writing with that of Mr. Presset, from whom he had received letters, and found that it was the same. The result was that our mission at Benito suffered considerable ill-treatment at his hands. At length, one day, he referred to the letter in speaking to Mr. Presset, and was surprised and almost affronted when the latter denied all knowledge of it. Mr. Presset asked to see it, and upon looking at it immediately recognized Bojedi’s writing. Bojedi was arrested and sent to jail, although he was only a boy who had done what the chiefs had required of him; the letter was theirs, not his. For months (or perhaps only one—I have forgotten the length of time) he remained in jail and worked at hard labour carrying stone. When at last one morning he was released he had scarcely a stitch of clothing on him and he hid in a bush all day, and walked home to Benito, twenty miles, during the night.