Stories of the Gorilla Country
I was immovable, for I had set my heart on going to the Fernand-Vaz river, of which I heard a good deal, from my friend Aboko, while in the Cape Lopez regions. As we approached that river, the vast column of water, pushing seaward, forced its separate way through the ocean for at least four or five miles; and the water there was almost fresh, and seemed a separate current in the sea.
At last we came to the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, and our fame had gone before us. Some of the Commi people, the inhabitants of the Fernand-Vaz, had seen me before at Cape Lopez. The news had spread that I wanted to settle at the village of a chief called Ranpano; so, as we passed his seashore village, a canoe came off to ask me to land; but as the breakers were rather formidable, I begged to be excused.
Ranpano's men wanted much to hug me; and were so extravagant in their joy, that I had to order them to keep their hands off, their shining and oily bodies having quite soiled my clothes. They went back to the king to tell him the good news. I kept one of these men on board for a pilot, being now anxious to get across the intricate bar, and fairly into the river, before dark.
As we sailed along up the river, canoes belonging to different villages shot out to meet us; and presently I had a crowd alongside anxious to come on board, and sufficient almost to sink us. They took me for a slaver at first, and their joy was unbounded; for there is nothing the African loves so much as to sell his fellowmen. They immediately called out their names in Portuguese: one was Don Miguel, another Don Pedro, another Don Francisco. They began to jabber away in Portuguese. Where they had learned this language I could not tell, unless it were in Sangatanga. I could not understand them; so I sent my captain to talk with them. He had some difficulty to persuade them that I came no such errand as slave-trading. They insisted that I had, and that the vessel looked exactly like a slaver. They said we must buy some of their slaves; they had plenty of them.
They insisted that I should not go to Ranpano. I should put up a factory in their place. They belonged to Elindé, a town just at the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, whose king is named Sangala. They praised the power and greatness of Sangala, and decried poor Ranpano, until I had to order all hands ashore for the night, being anxious to get a good quiet sleep to prepare for the morrow.
During the night, the men on watch said they heard the paddling of a canoe coming towards us. What could it be? Let us be ready. These men might be coming to board us and make war. At length the canoe came within hailing distance; we shouted to them. (I may say that the Commi speak the same language as the Oroungou people – the inhabitants of Cape Lopez.) They came, they said, with a message from King Sangala. I recognised the voice of the head man in the canoe to be that of Nchouga. He was brother of King Bango of Cape Lopez. Bango had accused Nchouga of bewitching him, whereupon the latter, to save his life, fled from the country; and having married one of the daughters of Sangala, he came to his father-in-law for protection.
Nchouga was a very cunning fellow; fortunately I knew him well, and he could not fool me so easily as he thought. He came to tell me that Sangala was the master of all the river; that he was a very great king; that he would not let me go to Ranpano, who was only a vassal of the great Sangala; therefore, he advised me as a friend – an old friend – to go ashore at Elindé.
I could read the cunning rogue. He had been one of the greatest rascals of Cape Lopez, and his slave dealings had not improved him. So I sent Nchouga off; I wanted to go to sleep. He had come out to test me; they thought I was a green hand at slave-trading.
Early next morning Sangala sent off a boat for me. On my arrival at Elindé, which village was about two miles from the river's mouth, I was conducted to the best house. Hither presently came King Sangala, who, in order to nerve himself for the occasion, had got drunk, and came attended by a great crowd of eager subjects. He grew very angry when I stated my intention of passing up the river, and going to Ranpano, and also into the interior. He declared that I should not go; he was the big king there and everywhere all over the world, and I must settle in his town.
I declared that I should go on. Sometimes I wonder that they did not at once make me a prisoner.
We had some sharp words, and I explained to his majesty that I was an old African traveller, and saw through all his lies; that he was not the big king of the country, as he said. Then he said I might go wherever I liked, provided I would have a factory built in his village.
I said that I had no factory to build in his village; but I offered to "dash" him (give him some presents).
He refused this offer; and now Ranpano, having just come, assured me that I should be backed up. I told Sangala I should force my way up. Sangala and all his people shouted with all their might that there should be war; Sangala, as he got up to say so, reared and tumbled down, he was so drunk.
So I left Sangala. By that time it rained so hard that no one followed us. It is wonderful how a crowd is dispersed by a shower of rain.
A great palaver was looming up; the excitement had spread over the country. In the meantime I had succeeded in going to Ranpano's village, situated up the river, five or six miles above Elindé. Ranpano gave me as much land as I wanted. My goods must come to his village; but it seemed that they could not be brought there without great trouble. Our canoes would be attacked by Sangala's people. Men would be killed; and we might be routed, unless we had a powerful force.
One morning the war drums beat. All Ranpano's friends had gathered to help fight Sangala. Canoe after canoe came in loaded with armed men, with drums beating, and all hands shouting, and waving their swords, guns, and spears. All were prepared to assist Ranpano's white man; all were anxious to burn and plunder Elindé, ready even to die in the undertaking. There was King Ritimbo, with two canoes and fifty men; King Mombon, from Sanguibiuri, also had two canoes; altogether we had no less than twenty big canoes, and could muster about three hundred men, most of whom were drunk on mimbo (palm-wine), and as noisy and as ready for fight as drunkenness will make an African. The drums were beaten, war songs were sung, and guns fired, as we paddled down the river. All hands had their faces painted white, which is a sign of war; and were covered with fetiches and other amulets. The white chalk or ochre was a sovereign protection against danger, and their war fetiches would prevent them from being killed. I could not recognise old Ranpano, his body was so daubed with paint.
One would have supposed these terrible fellows were bent upon the most bloody of raids. I wondered if all this uproar would end in smoke; I thought it would; nor was I disappointed. As these terrible warriors approached the village of Elindé they became less demonstrative. When they came in sight of Sangala's town, they pushed over to the other shore, out of the way, and took care to keep the Caroline between the enemy and themselves. The sight of Sangala's warriors had wrought a wonderful change in their warlike feelings. They really began to think that there might be some fighting.
We found that Sangala had also gathered his friends, and had about one hundred and fifty men ready for the fight, who probably felt about as courageous as my men did. These fellows were painted more outrageously than mine, having red as well as white applied in broad stripes. They looked like so many devils shouting and firing guns, each side knowing their mutual lack of courage, and thinking it prudent to scare the other in advance.
My men fired guns, sung, and danced war dances. I went on board my schooner. One small canoe on Sangala's side, with two men, who were unarmed, started from the shore towards us. This of course meant a palaver; they came on board of the Caroline, where I was. I sent word to Sangala, pointing to two little guns we had on deck, that if he stopped me I would blow his canoes out of the water with grape-shot, and would then go and bring a man-of-war to finish him up. I loaded my guns and pistols before them. I made my men put good charges into their pieces, and showed Sangala's men the bag of bullets I loaded them with, and then sent them back, and awaited the event.
I spied them with a glass. As soon as they landed the people surrounded them; there was a grand palaver.
Presently, from Sangala, came a small canoe to ask me ashore. Sangala sent his Konde (chief wife) to be hostage for my safety. I determined to go ashore, and, to show these negroes that I had no fear of them, I took the woman along with me, to her great joy. Ranpano and his brother kings protested against my rashness as they thought it. "Why not keep Sangala's woman on board?" said they. But I told them it was not the fashion of white people to fear anything. They looked at me as if to say, "If you are not afraid we are." All this had its effect upon them, and Ranpano and his brother kings were evidently impressed, and so also was old Sangala when he saw me come with his wife by my side.
We met on neutral ground outside his town. His army was drawn up in battle array, and made a fine savage display, many of the men wearing beautiful leopard skins about their waists. They came up to us at full trot, when we were seated, and made as though they would spear us all; and, if Sangala had not been close to me, I should have thought it was to be the end of us all. Ranpano kept whispering in my ears, "Why did you not keep Sangala's wife on board?"
But this advance upon us was only a kind of military salute. Sangala, this time, had become more gentle; he was not drunk, and, thinking that perhaps there might really be a fight, he had become very quiet. He did not wish to push matters to extremity.
Presently, Sangala said he would let me pass if I would give him a barrel of rum, a big one. I refused. I said I had none. He insisted that they must rejoice and get drunk. He wanted to get drunk for several days, and drink rum to his heart's content. At last, the palaver was settled, and I gave him many presents; and thereafter King Sangala became one of my best friends.
Ranpano was delighted; he hugged Sangala; he swore eternal friendship, and said that he loved him with all his heart. Sangala returned these compliments. We made a sign, agreed upon to our men, that everything was settled. Immediately they fired guns, embarked in their canoes, and came over to Sangala's village. They made a fine display, as all their canoes came in a line, and they were singing their war songs.
They were met by Sangala's warriors; and they made a rush towards each other as if they were to have a real fight, and then all was over and they laughed over the palaver, and swore that they would not hurt each other for the world.
I need not say how glad I was that everything had ended so well. Captain Cornillo, when everything looked black, swore that he never would come again to this wild country; and the crew said I wanted them all to be murdered.
I found these Commi very good people. I took ashore canoe after canoe, loaded with goods which might well tempt these poor negroes sorely. Many of the things were brought loose to Ranpano's; and yet not a single thing was stolen, not even the value of a penny. They were proud that I had come to settle among them. I was the first white man who had done so.
I love these Commi people dearly; and I am sure they all love me also. They took such great care of me. Ranpano was a very good king, and he always tried to please me, and so did his people. Now and then they did wrong; but these poor people knew no better, and they were sorry afterwards. Not one would have tried to do me an injury, and I could sleep with my doors wide open.
CHAPTER XXII
I BUILD A VILLAGE, AND CALL IT WASHINGTON – I START FOR THE INTERIOR – MY SPEECH ON LEAVING – THE PEOPLE APPLAUD ME VOCIFEROUSLY, AND PROMISE TO BE HONEST – WE REACH ANIAMBIA – THE "BIG KING," OLENGA-YOMBI – A ROYAL BALL IN MY HONOUR – THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE NATIVES – A MAN TOSSED BY A BUFFALOI immediately began building a substantial settlement, not an olako. I collected from a kind of palm tree a great many leaves, with which to cover the roofs of the buildings I had to construct. I gathered also a great quantity of branches from the same palm trees, and sticks, and poles, and all that was necessary to make a house; and finally I succeeded in building quite a village, which I called Washington. My own house had five rooms; it was forty-five feet long by twenty-five wide, and cost me about fifty dollars. My kitchen, which stood by itself, cost four dollars. I had a fowl-house, containing a hundred chickens (and such nice little tiny chickens they are in that country) and a dozen ducks. My goat-house contained eighteen goats, and funny goats they were. You had to milk a dozen of them to get a pint of milk. I built a powder-house separate, for I do not like to sleep every day in a place where there is powder. I had a dozen huts for my men.
This was Washington in Africa, a very different place from Washington in America.
At the back of my village was a wide extent of prairie. In front was the river Npoulounai winding along; and I could see miles out on the way which I was soon to explore. The river banks were lined with the mangrove trees; and, looking up stream, I could at almost any time see schools of hippopotami tossing and tumbling on the flats or mud banks.
I was now ready to explore the country, and go to Aniambia, where the big king of the country lived. I bought a splendid canoe, made of large trees, which I hoped would be serviceable to me in my up-river explorations. I was now anxious to be off.
Before starting I called Ranpano and all his people together, and said that I had perfect confidence in them; that I was their white man, and had come to them through much difficulty and many dangers. (Cheers.) That Sangala's people wanted me, but I was determined to live with the honest folks of Biagano (Ranpano's village). (Tremendous applause.) That I was going away for a few days, and hoped to find my goods all safe when I came back.
At this, there were great shoutings of "You can go! Do not fear! We love you! You are our white man! We will take care of you!" and so on; amid which my sixteen men seized their paddles, and shoved off.
At nine in the evening, the moon rose; and we pulled along through what seemed a charming scene. The placid stream was shaded by the immense trees which overhung its banks; and the silence was broken, now and then, by the screech of some night-prowling blast, or, more frequently, by the sudden plunge of a playful herd of hippopotami, some of which came very dangerously near us, and might have upset our canoe.
Towards midnight, my men became very tired, and we went ashore, at a little village which was nearly deserted. We could find only three old women, who were fast asleep and were not particularly anxious to make us welcome. I was too sleepy to stand upon ceremonies, and stowed myself away under a rough shed without walls. I had scarcely lain down, when there came up, suddenly, one of those fierce tornadoes which pass over these countries in the rainy season.
Fortunately, it was a dry tornado. In my half-sleepy state I did not care to move. As the tornado had unroofed every other shed as well as mine, nothing would have been gained by moving, even if it had rained.
The next morning we paid for our lodging, not in hard cash, but with some leaves of tobacco, and up the river we paddled until we reached a village called Igala Mandé, which is situated on the banks of the river. In a two hours' walk through grass fields we found numerous birds. One, in particular, was new to me, the Mycteria senegalensis. It had such long legs that it fairly outwalked me. I tried to catch it; but, though it would not take to its wings, it kept so far ahead that I did not even get a fair shot at it. This Mycteria senegalensis is a beautiful bird, and wanders here through the grass of the prairie.
There were also great flocks of a beautiful bird, whose dark golden body-plumage and long snow-white downy necks make a very fine and marked contrast with the green grass. Next to these, in point of number, was the snow-white egretta, which is found in vast flocks all along this coast.
At last we came to Aniambia. Olenga-Yombi, the king, came in from his plantation when he heard the joyful news that a white man had arrived. I paid him a state visit. He was a drunken old wretch, surrounded by a crowd of the chief men of the town. His majesty had on a thick overcoat, but no trousers; and, early as it was, he had already taken a goodly quantity of palm-wine, and was quite drunk. I was invited to sit at his right hand.
King Olenga-Yombi was one of the ugliest fellows I ever met with. He always carried with him a long stick; and when drunk he struck at his people right and left, and shouted, "I am a big king!" Happily, they managed to keep out of his way.
At nightfall I got a guide, and went out to see if I could get a shot at something larger than a bird. We had gone but a little way, when my guide pointed out to me a couple of bright glowing spots, visible through a piece of thick brush. The fellow trembled, as he whispered "Leopard!" But I saw at once that it was only the light of a couple of fireflies which had got in proper position to make a tolerable resemblance to the glowing eyes of the dreaded leopard.
I did not think much of the bravery of my guide. What a difference between him and Aboko, Niamkala, or Fasiko! I wished that I had them with me.
At two o'clock in the morning we at last heard a grunting, which announced the approach of a herd of wild hogs. I lay in wait for them, and I was fortunate enough to kill the big boar of the pack. The rest of the herd made off without showing a desire for fight.
The next day, King Olenga-Yombi held a grand dance in my honour. All the king's wives, to the number of forty, and all the women in the town and neighbourhood were present.
Fortunately, the dance was held out in the street, and not in a room, as at Cape Lopez. The women were ranged on one side, the men opposite. At the end of the line sat the drummers, beating their huge tom-toms, which make an infernal din, enough to make one deaf; and, as if for this occasion the tom-toms were not entirely adequate, there was a series of old brass kettles, which also were furiously beaten. In addition, as if the noise was not yet enough, a number of boys sat near the drummers, and beat on hollow pieces of wood. What beauty they found in such music I cannot tell. There was of course singing and shouting; and the more loudly and energetically the horrid drums were beaten, and the worse the noise on the brass kettles, the wilder were the jumps of the male Africans, and the more disgusting the contortions of the women.
As may be imagined, to beat the tom-tom is not a labour of love; the stoutest negro is worn out in an hour; and for such a night's entertainment as this, a series of drummers was required.
The people enjoyed it vastly; their only regret was that they had not a barrel of rum in the midst of the street, with which to refresh themselves in the pauses of the dance; but they managed to get just as drunk on palm-wine, of which a great quantity was served out.
The excitement became greatest when the king danced. His majesty was pretty drunk, and his jumps were very highly applauded. His wives bowed down to his feet while he capered about, and showed towards him the deepest veneration. The drums and kettles were belaboured more furiously than ever, and the singing, or rather the shouting, became stentorian.
Of course I did not think his majesty's party pleasant enough to detain me all night. I retired, but could not sleep.
Now I think I have given you a sufficient account of a ball at Aniambia, and of how his majesty Olenga-Yombi danced.
There are two very curious fetich-houses in Aniambia, which enjoy the protection of two spirits of great power – Abambou and Mbiuri. The former is an evil spirit, a kind of devil; the latter, as far as I have been able to ascertain, is beneficent.
The little houses where these spirits sometimes condescend to come and sleep for the night were about six feet square. In the house of Abambou I saw a fire, which I was told was never permitted to go out. I saw no idol, but only a large chest, on the top of which were some white and red chalk and some red parrot-feathers. The chalk was used to mark the bodies of the devout.
Abambou is the devil of the Commi people. He is a wicked and mischievous fellow, who often lives near graves and burial-grounds, and is most comfortably lodged among the skeletons of the dead. He takes occasional walks through the country, and, if he gets angry at anyone, he has the power to cause sickness and death. The Commi people cook food for him, which is deposited in lonely places in the woods, and there they address him in a flattering manner, and ask him to be good to them, and, in consideration of their gifts, and of the great care they take of him, to let them alone. I was present once at a meeting where Abambou was being addressed in public. They cried continually: "Now we are well! Now we are satisfied! Now be our friend, Abambou, and do not hurt us!"
The offerings of plantain, bananas, sugar-cane, ground-nuts, etc., etc., are wrapped in leaves by the free men, but the slaves lay them on the bare ground. Sometimes Abambou is entreated to kill the enemies of him who is making the offering. A bed is made in Abambou's house, and there he is believed to rest himself sometimes, when he is tired going up and down the coast in the forest.
Mbiuri, whose house I next visited, is lodged and kept much in the same way as his rival. He is a good spirit, but his powers are like those of Abambou, as far as I could make out. Not being wicked, he is less zealously worshipped.
These Commi people are full of superstition. They believe in a third and much-dreaded spirit, called Ovengua. This is a terrible catcher and eater of men. He is not worshipped, and has no power over disease; but he wanders unceasingly through the forests, and catches and destroys luckless travellers who cross his path. By day he lives in dark caverns, but at night he roams freely, and even sometimes gets into the body of a man, and beats and kills all who come out in the dark. Sometimes, they relate, such a spirit is met and resisted by a body of men, who wound him with spears, and even kill him. In this case the body must be burned, and not even the smallest bone left, lest a new Ovengua should arise from it. There are many places where no object in the world would induce a Commi negro to go by night, for fear of this dreadful monster.
They have a singular belief that when a person dies who has been bewitched, the bones of his body leave the grave one by one, and form in a single line united to each other, which line of bones gradually becomes an Ovengua.
It is not an easy matter to get at the religious notions of these people. They themselves have no well-defined ideas of them, and on many points they are not very communicative.
I suppose they think that sometimes the Ovengua is in a man; hence they kill him and burn his body.
Of course the Commi people, like all other negroes, are firm believers in witchcraft.
Not very far from Aniambia, there is a place in the forest which is supposed to be haunted by the spirit of a crazy woman, who, some hundreds of years ago, left her home. They believe that she cultivates her plantation in some hidden recess in the forest, and that she often lies in wait for travellers, whom she beats and kills out of pure malice.
While at Aniambia I had a great adventure with a bos brachicheros, which might have ended in a terrible way. I started out early one day to try and get a shot at some buffaloes which were said to be in the prairie at the back of the town. I had been an hour on the plains with Ifouta, a hunter, when we came upon a bull feeding in the midst of a little prairie surrounded by woods, which made an approach easy. I remember well how beautiful the animal looked. Ifouta walked round through the jungle opposite to where I lay in wait; for, if the animal should take fright at him, it might fly towards me. When he reached the right position, Ifouta began to crawl, in the hunter's fashion, through the grass towards his prey. All went well till he came near enough for a shot. Just then, unluckily, the bull saw him. Ifouta immediately fired. It was a long shot, and he only wounded the beast, which, quite infuriated, immediately rushed upon him. It was now that poor Ifouta lost his presence of mind. In such cases, which are continually happening to those who hunt the bos brachicheros, the proper course for the hunter is to remain perfectly quiet till the beast is within a jump of him, then to step nimbly to one side, and let him rush past. But Ifouta got up and ran.
