It might not be too much to expect that, in return for the very extensive privileges it enjoys of exploitation of public lands and a large native population, the A.B.I.R. Company should be required, in the entire absence of the public flotilla, to discharge the not onerous task of conveying the public mails by its steamers which so frequently navigate the waterways of the Concession in the collection of india-rubber.
Were a qualified Magistrate appointed to reside within the limits of this Concession—as within the other Upper Congo Concessions, some of them territories as large as a European State, and still containing a numerous native population—the public service could not but be the gainer.
As it is to-day, no Court is open to the appeals of these people that lies at all within their reach, and no European agency, save isolated Mission stations, has any direct influence upon them except that immediately interested in their profitable exploitation.
It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R. Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as possible, and within the limits of his duties, the evils of the system I there observed at work.
The requisitions of food-stuffs laid on the villages adjoining the factories were said to be less onerous than those affecting the rubber towns. They rested, I was informed, on the same legal basis as that authorizing rubber working, and a failure to meet them involved the same desultory modes of arrest and imprisonment. During my stay at Bongandanga several instances of arrest in failures of this kind came to my notice.
On a Sunday in August, I saw six of the local sentries going back with cap-guns and ammunition pouches to E**, after the previous day’s market, and later in the day, when in the factory grounds, two armed sentries came up to the agent as we walked, guarding sixteen natives, five men tied neck by neck, with five untied women and six young children. This somewhat embarrassing situation, it was explained to me, was due to the persistent failure of the people of the village these persons came from to supply its proper quota of food. These people, I was told, had just been captured “on the river” by one of the sentries placed there to watch the waterway. They had been proceeding in their canoes to some native fishing grounds, and were espied and brought in. I asked if the children also were held responsible for food supplies, and they, along with an elderly woman, were released, and told to run over to the Mission, and go to school there. This they did not do, but doubtless returned to their homes in the recalcitrant village. The remaining five men and four women were led off to the “maison des otages” under guard of the sentry.
An agent explained that he was forced to catch women in preference to the men as then supplies were brought in quicker; but he did not explain how the children deprived of their parents obtained their own food supplies.
He deplored this hard necessity, but he said the vital needs of his own station, as well as of the local missionaries, who, being guests of the A.B.I.R. Society, had to be provided for, sternly imposed it upon him if the peopled failed to keep up their proper supplies.
While we thus talked an armed sentry came along guarding four natives—men—who were carrying bunches of bananas, a part of another food imposition. This sentry explained to his master that the village he had just visited had failed to give antelope meat, alleging the very heavy rain of the previous night as an excuse for not hunting.
The agent apologized to me for his inability to give me meat during my stay, pointing out the obvious necessity he now was under of catching some persons without delay. He should certainly, he said, have to send out and catch women that very night.