Читать книгу The Truth About the Congo: The Chicago Tribune Articles - Frederick Starr - Страница 5

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January 21, 1907.

LIFE is easy in the tropics. Wants are few. A house to live in can be built in a few hours. Food can be gathered or produced with little labor. Dress is needless. Where life is easy there is little impulse to labor.

The chief incentive to the Bantu to work is to secure the wherewithal to buy a wife. The boy, who, through a careless, happy childhood, has done naught but play, begins to think of settling down. But to have a wife he must have money or its equivalent. So he goes to work. It may require a year or more before he has the pieces of cloth which are necessary for the purchase of his desired loved one. The same stimulus which impelled him to labor for one wife may prod him to efforts for others. But with the establishment of a home, and the purchase of two or three wives to care for him and produce him wealth, his work is done. From fourteen years to twenty-five is his working period. Before that time a child, after that time he is a man of means. What wealth comes later comes through the women and their labor, and through trade.

We have already stated that the Bantu is notably acquisitive. Wealth, apart from women and slaves, is counted mostly in cloth. One of the chief aims in life is to accumulate cloth, not for use as clothing, but as evidence of wealth and for the final display when the man dies and is buried. Among the Lower Congo tribes the dead body is wrapped in piece after piece of cloth, until the body disappears in a mass of wrappings made of scores of pieces, each piece consisting of eight or sixteen yards, as the case may be. Young men have cloth, and it is most interesting to look through the boxes of the “boys.” At Basoko we were robbed, and the authorities instituted a search. I was asked to inspect the boxes of all the workmen on the place. Without warning, every man and boy had to open his trunk, chest, tin box, or other store. I saw young fellows of no more than sixteen or seventeen years who had a dozen pieces of good cloth carefully folded away, watches, jewelry, ornaments, knives, dishes—every kind of white man’s tradestuff that could be imagined. When they are thirty those “boys” will be rich men, with women, slaves, and piles of stuff.

The government of the Free State has issued coins for native use. There are large coppers of the value of one, two, five, and ten centimes. There are silver coins of half-franc, franc, two franc, and five franc value. But these coins have no circulation beyond Leopoldville. In the Kasai district and the Upper Congo every commercial transaction is done by barter.

Certain things are so constantly in use as to have fixed values. For articles of trifling value nothing is so good as salt. A standard which varies from place to place is the brass rod, or mitaku. This is simply a piece of brass wire of certain length. The mitaku in the Lower Congo are short, those in the Upper Congo much longer. Beads have ever been used in trade, but the wise traveler avoids them, as their value has dwindled, and the taste not only varies from place to place, but from time to time. The bead which one traveler found useful in a given district may have lost its attractiveness before the next traveler, loaded with a large supply, comes that way.

At Ndombe the brass rod has no vogue. There the cowries (sea shells) are the standard in small transactions. Cowries were once used in many parts of Africa, but in most places have ceased to have value. Ndombe, however, arrogates to himself and family the sole right of wearing brass arm and leg rings. Hence mitaku are not used, and the old-fashioned cowry remains. But the chief tradestuff, of course, is cloth. With it you may buy chickens or goats, pigs or wives. In the Upper Kasai a piece of cloth means eight yards—“four fathoms.” In the Upper Congo a piece of cloth is sixteen yards, or eight fathoms. Formerly at Ndombe eight or ten chickens were given for a piece of cloth, value five francs, or one dollar in our currency. To-day one must pay a fathom for each fowl.

The attempt to introduce the use of corn among the natives was unsatisfactory alike to the people and the trader. It has, however, taken hold strongly in the Lower Congo, and in time the use of true money must push its way up the river. Curious is the contempt of all for coppers. Ten centimes in Belgium would give delight to many a boy of twelve or fifteen years. The Congo native frequently throws it away or returns it to the person who gave it to him. Nothing less than a half-franc piece—ten cents—is valued.

I have seen this illustrated many, many times, the first time in my own case. We were visiting a miserable fishing village of poor Bakongo. As I entered the village a naked child, no more than two or three years old, met me. I smiled at him and he at me. I extended my hand, which he clasped and accompanied me for half an hour as I wandered from house to house, never once relaxing his hold upon my fingers. It caused great amusement to the adult portion of the village, as apparently the little one rarely made such friendships. When I was about to leave I took a ten centime piece from my pocket and gave it to him. Such a look of disgust as came over his face would not be expected in any one short of adult years. It was the last time that I gave a copper to a native.

Unquestionably one of the most striking characteristics of the Congo people is loquacity. Their tongues hang loosely, and wag incessantly. Anything will do to talk about. Start one and he will talk until you stop him. Quarrels, troubles, friendships, joys, plans, and achievements, all are retailed at any hour of the day or night. When excited, several will talk together with great vivacity, though it is plain that no one knows what any other is saying.

One of the chief occupations of the man is the palaver. The Portuguese term applies to any serious consultation on any subject, pleasant or otherwise. A palaver may be confined to chiefs or it may include practically all the men of one or more villages. In many towns there is a place for gathering for palavers under a tree known as the palaver tree. Those who participate in a palaver bring their chairs or stools or a roll of skin, which they place upon the ground to sit upon. At the beginning there is more or less formality, and each one presents his view decently and in order; sometimes, however, hubbub ensues, disturbance arises, and the palaver breaks up in disorder. In these palavers frequently speeches of great length and finished oratory are delivered. Not only are the emotions played upon by the speaker, but keen argument is employed, and the appeal is made to the intelligence.

All matters of consequence—tribal, inter-tribal, and dealings with the white man—are settled in palavers. The white man who knows the natives is wise to conform to native customs. If he has some difficulty to settle, some favor to ask, some business to arrange, he will do well to have a formal palaver called in which he himself participates.

On the occasion of my second visit to Ndombe I found the town in great excitement. Going to the chief’s headquarters, we found a great palaver in progress. Our coming was looked upon as a favorable omen, and with much formality chairs were brought and placed for us in the midst of the gathering. The remarks were translated to me as they were made.

Ndombe’s town is really an aggregation of villages. Not one but four different tribes are represented in the population. The central town, walled and of Bakuba style, was Ndombe’s own. Three or four Bakete towns were clustered near it. In another direction were several Baluba towns, and close by them small villages of Batua. These four populations, though living by themselves, were all subject to Ndombe, and the group of villages taken together made a town of some pretension.

The day before our visit, there had been a battle with the Bakete in which several men had been wounded, though none were killed. The trouble was taxes. The state demanded increased payments. The proud Bakuba decided that the Bakete should pay the new tax, and so informed them. Against this there had been a feeling of rebellion, and the Bakete refused to pay the tax. Hence the battle. All were greatly excited. The speeches were full of fire. The men—Bakuba—challenged each other to show mighty deeds of valor; they belittled and derided the unfortunate Bakete; they drew unpleasant contrasts between themselves and their vassals.

Many of the speeches were fine efforts, and the words were emphasized by the most graceful and vigorous gesticulation. Finally an old woman crowded in from one side where she had been listening to the speeches. In impassioned language she described the heavy labors which the women of the tribe already endured. They could stand no more. If the Bakuba were men let them prove it now or forever after remain silent. Force the Bakete to work. Put no more heavy tasks upon your mothers, wives, and sisters. The old woman’s speech stirred the audience, and the meeting broke up, the men hurrying to prepare themselves for a new battle.

The market was among the most important institutions of the Congo native. It retains importance to the present day. In the Lower Congo a week consisted of four days, and market was held at each market-place once a week. The markets were named from the day of the week on which they were held. Thus, a Nsona market was a market held on the day of that name.

To these markets people came in numbers from all the country round, and it was no uncommon thing to see thousands thus gathered. There were special places for certain products. Thus, women who brought pottery for sale occupied a set place; those who brought bananas would be grouped together in their section; sellers of camwood, sweet potatoes, kwanga (native cassava bread), palm wine, oil, salt, fowls, pigs, goats—all occupied places well known to the frequenters of the market. In the olden times, of course, there was a section devoted to the sale of slaves.

Such a market presented a scene of active life and movement. Yet order was preserved. No crime was considered more serious than the disturbance of a market. Such an act deserved severest punishment, and those in whose hands the maintenance of order lay never hesitated to kill the offender at once, and to make a public display of his punishment as a warning to all.

There is no question that the Congo native is cruel, and this cruelty shows itself in many ways. The killing of slaves was extremely common. It is true that it was never carried to the extreme in Congoland that it reached in some true negro kingdoms, as Dahomey and Benin. It was, however, customary to kill slaves on the occasion of the death of a man of any consequence. The body of one of the slaves thus killed was placed first in the grave to serve as a pillow for the dead man. It was a common practice to preserve the skulls of victims sacrificed on such occasions as memorials.

Not only were slaves sacrificed to grace the funeral ceremony of chiefs, but often one or more were killed upon occasions of festivity and joy. King Ndombe once presented me a skull. It was that of a Batua slave who had been killed upon the occasion of the chief’s coming into power. In this case, apparently, judging by the condition of the skull, the victim had been killed by simply knocking in his head.

Until lately all through the Congo public executions were of a more formal character than this. At Lake Mantumba we were shown the exact mode of procedure. A sort of stool or seat was set upon the ground and sticks were tightly driven in around it, in such a way as to limit the motions of the victim after he was seated; in fact, to almost prevent all movement. A sapling was then thrust in the ground. A sort of cage or framework made of pliant branches was fixed about the head of the victim. The sapling was then bent over in an arch and firmly fastened to the cage, thus holding the head firmly and stretching the neck tense and hard. The hands were tied together, as were the feet. When all was ready the executioner with his great knife at a single blow struck off the head.

Enemies killed in battle were often mutilated, and fingers, nails, bones, or the skulls were treasured as trophies. When the white men first visited the villages of the Upper Congo there was scarce a house without its ghastly trophy, and the houses of great chiefs displayed baskets filled with skulls.

It is doubtful whether the Congo native has as keen a sense of physical suffering as ourselves. In almost every tribe men and sometimes women, are marked with tribal marks upon the face or body; thus, among the Bangala each member of the tribe bears a projection like a cock’s comb running vertically across the forehead from the nose root to the hair line. This excrescence is frequently three-quarters of an inch in breadth and of the same elevation. Its development begins in childhood, when a series of short but deep horizontal lines are cut in the child’s forehead; these are irritated to produce swelling; later on they are cut again, and again, and again, until the full development is produced. We should certainly find such an operation painful in the extreme. I have seen women whose entire bodies were masses of raised patterns, produced by cutting and irritating.

When being operated upon the subject usually squats or lies in front of the operator, who sits cross-legged on the ground. The head or other portion of the body which is being cut rests upon the lap or knees of the cutter. No particular pain is shown by the subject, though the cuts are often deep and blood flows copiously. A few minutes after the operation, smeared with fresh oil on the wounds, the scarred person walks about as if nothing had happened.

The first subject that I saw treated for rheumatism was a young woman. She was standing before her house door, while the old woman who was treating her was squatted on the ground before her. In her hand the old woman had a sharp, native razor, and with it she cut lines several inches long and to good depth in the fleshy part of the leg of her standing patient. Not once nor twice, but a dozen times the old woman cut, and rubbed in medicine in the open wounds. The patient gave but little signs of pain. Once or twice she winced as the knife went a little deeper than usual; she held a long staff in her hand, and in the most serious moments of the cutting she clutched it a little the tighter. But there were no groans, no cries, nor tears. I have never seen a white person who could have stood the operation with so little evidence of suffering.

Part of the time that we were in Ndombe’s district we had charge of an establishment employing 140 natives, more or less. Among these natives was one Casati. I think he was a Zappo Zap. Originally a man of quickness and intelligence, he had become a complete physical wreck through drink and other forms of dissipation. He boarded with a girl named Tumba. One afternoon they presented themselves before me with a palaver. It was some question in regard to payment and service. Like most Bantu difficulties, its beginning seemed to extend backwards to the world’s creation.

I knew Tumba to be a worthy and industrious girl; Casati was a miserable and worthless wretch. I therefore refused to decide the difficulty, stating that the parties interested must wait until the return of the true owner of the establishment, who would decide their question. This was not at all to the satisfaction of Casati, who, merely to show his dissatisfaction, took a sharp knife and cut three big gashes in his own shoulder. It seems plain to me, from this apparent lack of pain under scarring, medical treatment, and self-infliction, that there is a notable difference between the Bantu and ourselves.