us back, and feed us by the way. This arrangement was a good one, as it secured the friendship of the old chief and prevented him and his people from robbing and poisoning us.
We later received a visit from Tetu Mayella, king of an adjacent village called Neprat. He was accompanied by about twenty followers, all of whom came to us for the express purpose of getting some rum. Tetu Mayella wrangled for two hours with Gidi and another half-hour with Sudikil about a bottle of grog, and ultimately despatched Nchama to plead with me for him. I referred him back to Gidi Mavonga, and, after a further consultation, Tetu received one bottle of gin, in return for which he came personally and presented us with two fowls. This was a godsend, as the day before we had nothing to eat but a few pieces of dry bread, and water to wash it down. A pig was then slaughtered with great ceremony. The carcass was cut up and divided according to custom, the king getting the lion’s share, and the other personages an allowance in accordance with their rank. We made ready to retire to rest after eating a good bush dinner and drinking plenty of palm wine. Gidi Mavonga paid us a visit late in the evening, and final arrangements were made with him to proceed first to Yellalla, or the Congo Cataracts, and afterwards to St. Salvador, or Great Gongo City.
Thursday, September 10th.—The direction of the Yellalla Cataracts from the village of Kayé was
east-north-east, and that of St. Salvador, or Congo, east-south-east. This morning we had dandelion coffee for the fourth time. It was a most excellent decoction, acting, when used judiciously, on the liver and kidneys. We found that the natives breakfasted on beans, ground nuts, fish, and beef when it can be had, and the second course is a good jorum of palm wine. At noon we began packing up, in order to start for Gidi Mavonga’s village. The natives of the Congo are divided into two classes only, the mfumo, or freeman, and the muleque, or slave. The mfumo marries amongst his own slaves, or, properly speaking, retainers, and the children born by him are in their turn mfumos, or freemen. The word slave is here quite improperly used, for the slave in reality is a freer man than the king himself. Everything the king possesses, except his wives, is literally at the disposal of the slave. Unquestionably the slave is the bodyguard of the mfumo, and, as regards work, he does what he likes, sleeps when he chooses, attends to his private affairs when he pleases, and if his master finds fault with his conduct, the chances are, if his own country be not too far away from the place of his thraldom, he will leave his master and make a bold effort to reach his native land.
Friday, September 11th.—Very early this morning we were astonished by hearing a yelling noise from a lot of women. To use a Scotch phrase, it was a regular “skirl.” It so happened that a woman
was bearing a child, and these noises were made either to drown the pains of labour or to welcome the little stranger into his trouble. In any case, we pitied the poor sufferer in travail, for the screeching must have given her an awful headache.
Gidi Mavonga came to take us to his village of Chingufu this morning. It was not a long journey, we found. Gidi’s house was a facsimile of the one we had left at Kayé: an oval building upheld by two upright posts, and the roof supported by a long stout beam laid on the top of, and tied to, the uprights. The hut boasted of three doors, one at each end and one at the side. Doubtless, fox-like, the suspicious native makes all these doors to serve as mediums of escape in case of war or a slave-hunt. There was a partition in the centre dividing the hut into two rooms, the first being a general room, and the second the sanctum sanctorum, accessible only to the husband and wife. The furniture was very simple, consisting of a native bed in each room. The walls and roof were composed of bamboos and grass very neatly tied together. There was no flooring but the clay bottom, and the whole looked very clean and simple.
Gidi appeared to be a great worshipper of the native fetish Ibamba, or Nzamba, a variation of the devil. The natives called him Masjinga, and he is a house-god, usually keeping guard at the bedsides. The idol in Gidi’s hut was a peculiarly droll-looking object. He was an image about three
feet in height, with his mouth wide open, his under lip hanging down, and the upper drawn up as if by some strong convulsions, his nose flat as Africa, and the nostrils very much inflated. His eyes were composed of pieces of looking-glass, and in his belly was inserted a penny mirror, but for what purpose we could not discover. On his head was an English billycock hat, and about his shoulders were hung different kinds of medicines, a calabash, and a knife. The face of this wonderful figure was part black, part red, and part white. On the walls of the house, and particularly about the bed, were hung medicines, spells, and potions of every description, supposed to be antidotes against every evil to which the human frame is subject; medicines to prevent gun-shots from taking effect, spells against ill-luck, potions to have wives and plenty of children, and, in fine, charms to protect against the wrath and subtlety of Nzamba.
About midday we had a visit from some neighbouring chiefs, all gaily attired. They wore red nightcaps on their heads, and this was the only head-dress I ever saw adopted by the men on great occasions, Sudikil’s military helmet excepted. The women always went bareheaded. I had often wondered where in the wide universe old clothes went to after they are purchased by the Jews in London. The mystery was here solved, for I found kings wearing second-hand livery suits, with the coronet and crest of a marquis on the button, and