Bokwala : the story of a Congo victim /

Preface

Having personally visited the Upper Congo in the days preceding the estab¬ lishment of the notorious rubber regime, and being intimately acquainted with the conditions of native life which then obtained, I have watched with profoundest pity and indignation the development of Congo slavery. Old-time conditions of savage barbarity were awful, but it has been reserved for so-called “ Christian Civilisation ” to introduce the system of atro¬ cious oppression and hopeless despair under which, during the last fifteen years, millions of helpless natives have perished directly or indirectly, for whose protection Great Britain and the United States of America have special responsibility before God and men.

It is particularly appropriate that in this moment of Congo crisis these pages should render articulate the voice of a Congo victim. Bokwala tells his own story, thanks to the clever and sympathetic interpretation of a gifted and experienced resident on the Congo.

Preface

And a touching story it is, told with admirable directness and simplicity, truthfulness and restraint.

I heartily commend the book to all who are interested in the greatest humanitarian issue which has appealed to us during the last thirty years, and to those also who as yet know little or nothing of the Congo Iniquity.

H. GRATTAN GUINNESS, M.D.

Acting-Director of

Harley House, Bow, London, E.

0 Lord, how long shall I cry, and Thou wilt not hear ! even cry unto Thee out of violence, and Thou wilt not save !

Why dost Thou shew me iniquity, and cause me to behold grievance ? for spoiling and violence are before me : and there are that raise up strife and contention.

Therefore the law is slacked, and judg¬ ment doth never go forth : for the wicked doth compass about the righteous, therefore wrong judgment proceedeth.

Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity : wherefore lookest Thou on them that deal treacherously, and boldest Thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more righteous than he ?

Foreword

HIS story of Bokwala, a Congo victim,

JL has been written in the belief that it will help the friends of the Congo native to see something of how Congo affairs appear when looked at from the standpoint of those whom they most nearly concern in their actual working, i.e., the Congo natives themselves.

Bokwala’s story is the truth, and nothing but the truth. The whole truth, however, is written only in tears and blood wrung from the unfor¬ tunate people who are subjects of such treatment as is described in this book. Even if it were written with pen and ink, it could not be printed or circulated generally. No extreme case has been chosen, the story told has none of the very worst elements of Congo life in it ; it is the life which has been lived by hundreds and thousands of Congo natives, and in great measure is being lived by them to-day.

Now in July, 1909, while these words are being written, wrongs are taking place ; men and women are being imprisoned for shortage in food

Foreword taxes ; messengers of white men are threatening, abusing, and striking innocent villagers ; and constant demands are being made upon the people who find it impossible to supply such except at great expense to themselves, which they do not hesitate to incur rather than be tied up and go to prison.

Changes there have been in the name and personnel of the administration : but no change in the system. We who live here and see what takes place pray that you at home may stand firm and not for one moment think that the battle is won. It is not won yet ; and wiU not be until we see the changes actually worked out by reformers here on the Congo as surely as you see the proposals and promises of them on paper in Europe.

If what is here recorded helps to bring about that happy state of things one day sooner than it would otherwise come, surely readers and writer wiU unite in praise to Him who alone is able to bring it to pass.

A CONGO RESIDENT.

Contents

FAOB

PEEPACB BY DR. H. GRATTAN GUINNESS . . 5

FOREWORD . . . . . .9

Chapter I

My early days — Life at home — How we fared — Work and play — Our one fear, the cannibals — Iseankdto’s warning — We despise it — We are captured by cannibals — The journey — A horrible meal — The cannibal village reached.

Chapter II

In the cannibal village — Before the council — Our fate — Desire to please my master — How I succeeded — Our fears and their justification — A sad company — Siene’s murder — The boy who lied — The ordeal by poison — Village strife — The human peace-offering — The haunting dread — Eumours of the white men — A fright — Makweke’s peril — How he escaped — We plan flight — The start — The chase — A near thing — The river reached —

Over, and at home again.

Chapter III The Coming Op Bokakala . . . .46

At home again — I choose a wife — How I went courting —

And was married — My visits to the white men — They

Contents

PAGE talk of “ one Jesus” — The other white man, Bokakala — He wants rubber — We are eager to get it — How rubber was collected — The rubber market — “ We did not Icnow.”

Chapter IV The Beginning Of Soerows . . .55

The coming of more white men — A change in our treat¬ ment — Things go from bad to worse — I get tned of oollectiag rubber — And stay at home — The white man’s anger and threats — I go to a palaver — My rubber is short — I am whipped — The white man’s new plan — Forest guards — Their oppression and greed — We report them to the white man — Results — But the worst not yet.

Chapter V

My new slavery — How our villagers fared at home — The white man’s meat — How it was got — The white men of God and their pity — How the women were enslaved — Feeding the idle — Endeavours to evade oppression — Results — How would you hke our conditions? — Forest work — Its hardships — The day of reckoning — Back to the vUlage and home — An ominous silence — A sad discovery — Redeeming our wives — An offending villager — A poor victim — A ghastly punishment — The woman’s death — Another village — The monkey hunters — The old man who stayed at home— How he was tortured — No redress.

Chapter VI

Our work grows harder — I consult the white man of God — A strange contrast — My plea unavailing— My rubber short — I am sent to the prison — The captives — Their

Contents

PAGE work and their punishments — The sick — The new-born babe — The dead and their burial — The suspected — How they were tortured — The steamer — The rubber chief — The prison opened — A procession of spectres — The place of the dead — For a time peace — Work for the man of God — How we fared — My reward — I wish to go home.

Chapter VII

My welcome at home — My respite and its end — The forest sentry — The little boy — My father’s appeal and its result — I intervene — The sentry’s revenge— A rubber slave once more — I appeal to the man of God — Dis¬ appointment — “ Nothing but rubber till I die ! ” — The hopeless toil — The coming of the pestilence — The witch¬ doctor’s medicine— The desolation— But still the rubber !

Chapter VIII

A change of labour — We become hunters — A new demand — And new difficulties— Failure — The sentry’s demand — The old men’s plea — Murder — We tell the men of God — And complain to the rubber man — The white chief — The things written in a book — And no remedy comes — Hunting again — The English visitor — The white woman — Results of making complaints — The sentries’ threats — The one way of escape — “ Better to be with the hunters than the hunted”- — Another sorrow — The sleeping-sickness — “Just a little while, and they die” —

We cry to the white people.

CHAPTER IX More white men from Europe — -Fears and curiosity

The white men inquire about us — We tell them of our

Contents

PAGE state — And our oppressors — The knotted strings and their story— “ These things are bad ” — The white man’s promises— Better times— Soon ended — Eubber again — The old toil — The men of the river— The demands on the villages — The chiefs in power — Chiefs and the sentries — The death wail and the white man — “ We are very poor.”

Chapter X Things We Want To Know . . . 121

My story is finished — The past and the present — Why are these things so ? — The old days — Now we are white men’s slaves — How long will it last ? — We are dying —

Our only rest is death — How long, how long ?

Chapter I

My early days — Life at home — How we fared — Work and play — Our one fear, the cannibals — Iseankoto’s warning — We despise it — We are captured by canni¬ bals — The journey — A horrible meal — The cannibal village reached.

I HAVE heard that there are many white people in Europe, both men and women, who feel compassion for us black men, and who would, if they knew more about us, take pity on us and save us from our sorrows and trials. So I am going to tell the story of my life, that they may know and help us.

Long, long ago I was born in the village of Ekaka, and having lived so long I have seen many things, and who is better able to tell them than I ? We have great controversy with the white people about our ages : they say I am about thirty years old, but of course I know better ; and I say that I am about three thousand years old — which shows that white men do not know everything.

My name is Bokwala, a slave. I do not know why my father and mother named me so ; for I was a freeborn child. But afterwards I became a slave in truth, as I shall tell you, so then it suited me well.

We lived all together very happily in my father’s compound. He was the chief of Ekaka, and had great authority ; he had but to give an order, and at once the people would hurry to execute it. His own name was Mboyo, but he was always called Isek’okwala, after me, and in the same way my mother was called Yek’okwala. It is one of our customs to call the parents “ father ” or “ mother ” of Bokwala, or whatever the name of the child may be.

My mother was my father’s favourite wife, but, being a chief, he had several others, and necessarily our compound was a large one.

In the centre of one side of a large open space was the chief’s own house, and next to it the open house for talking palavers, feasting, &c. Then there were the houses of the women, one for each wife, where she lived with her own children, and other houses for slaves. As we boys grew older we built houses for ourselves in our father’s compound, and in time it grew to be almost like a small village.

Those were good days, as far as we ourselves were concerned. We were free to do as we liked ; if we quarrelled, we fought it out, and the strongest won ; if we wanted meat or fish, we went to hunt in the forest, or to fish on the river, and soon had a plentiful supply ; and in our gardens there was always as much vegetable food as we needed.

Sometimes the women had quarrels amongst themselves, and then we had no peace for a time. They talked and talked, and scolded each other from morning till night, and almost from night till morning, and there was no sleep for any of us. Not even my father could put an end to these rows : for the time being the women were masters of the situation and of him. You see, the women provide us men with food, and if they are angry with a man they starve him, therefore what can he do ? He justs waits, and by and by their anger is finished, and a time of peace ensues, and possibly a feast.

I will tell you how we passed our days in the time of my childhood. Every one rose with the sun, for our people do not think it good to sleep late, and it did not take long to eat our morning meal of manioca, and anything which had been kept over from the night before.

Then we began to scatter, some of the women to the large manioca gardens at some distance in the forest, and others to fish in the river. Sometimes they went fishing for a day only, at other times for as long as a month. The length of time and the kind of fishing depends on the season, whether the water is high or low, and what sort of fish are plentiful. Some of the men and boys would go out to hunt with their nets and spears, others would be busy making nets, canoes, paddles, and cooking utensils, or doing smithy work, making spears, knives, or ornaments for the women. The chief and elders of the village would gather in the large shed and talk palavers, hear and tell news, smoke and chat aU day long.

We children would fish, go for picnics in the near forest, bathe in the river, play games, quarrel and fight and make it up again, and return to our play untU we felt hungry, when we made our way homewards to seek our mothers.

]8

Towards evening, when the sun was slipping down, the men would come in from the hunt, and the women from the gardens, from wood¬ cutting in the forest, and water-drawing at the springs, and then the cooking would begin. All round us were women chatting, and little girls running errands and helping them in various ways.

Some of the women would be making toko (native bread) from the steeped manioca they had just brought from the river, and they were busy with pestle and mortar, pots and calabashes. Others were making banganju, a kind of pottage made of manioca leaves, palm nuts, and red peppers, and yet others preparing bosaka, or palm-oil chop.

The animals killed in the hunt were first taken to my father to be divided by him, and soon the portions were given round to the women to be cooked, while we youngsters sat about waiting, talked and feasted on the appetising smells emitted from the various boiling pots.

My mother sat and talked with my father ; she did no cooking, as she was the favourite wife, and the others cooked for her. In the fruit season we might add our quota to the feast in the form of rubber and other fruits, or even caterpillars or palmerworms, and these were greatly enjoyed by all.

When the food was ready the women brought it in hand-baskets to my father, who first helped himself to his share, and passed some to any visitors who might be with him, then he gave the rest to his wives, and each in turn divided it amongst her own children. The slaves were treated much the same as children when food was served out, they received their share.

We had no plates or spoons then, as some of our people who work for the white men now have, leaves served for plates, and twisted into a scoop did equally well for spoons. The chief possessed his own carved ivory spoon, worked from a solid elephant’s tusk, but that was taboo for any but himself. Nowadays we may not work ivory for ourselves, we have to take it to the white men.

As soon as we had all finished eating, and drinking spring water, some of us carefully gathered up all the leaves which we had used, and the peelings and cuttings of the food, and threw them away in the forest, lest some evildisposed person should get hold of them and by means of them bewitch us. W e are all very much afraid of witchcraft, unless we ourselves praetise it ; then, of course, it is for others to fear us.

The meal finished and cleared away, and the leavings tied up to the roof to be served again to-morrow morning, we all gathered round the fires and the old men told stories of their prowess in hunting or in war, or retold to us young ones some of the legends and fables of our ancestors of long ago. Sometimes, on rare occasions, my father would sing to us the legend of Lianza, the ancient warrior and hero of our race. This story takes a long time to tell, and at frequent intervals the whole company would join in singing the choruses, with clapping of hands and great excitement.

This lasted far into the night. And some¬ times when the moon shone brightly we would sing and dance and play games, which we enjoyed greatly at the time, although they were not good games, and we generally had to suffer for them afterwards. On the fol¬ lowing morning many of us were sick, our heads ached, and we were fit for nothing.

We do not play these games so much now as we used to.

There was just one thing we were always afraid of in those days, and that was an attack from our enemies who lived on the other side of the river. They were very bad people, so wicked that they even eat men whom they have killed in battle, or slaves whom they have taken prisoners or bought for the pur¬ pose. They were at that time much stronger than we were, and when they attacked us we always got the worst of it. So we dreaded them very much, more even than the wild animals of the forest.

On a certain evening we were sitting talking after having finished our evening meal, and we began to make plans for a fishing expedition to the marsh near the river, and finally decided to start on the next day.

We slept that night at home, and were awake betimes in the morning ready for an early start.

There was a very old man in our village named Iseankdtd, or the Father of Discernment. He had been a strong man and possessed great fame ; but that was in the past, and now we did not pay much heed to his sayings. He called us together as soon as we were awake, and told us of a very vivid dream he had had during the night.

It was this. We went to fish just as we had planned, but while we were there the cannibals came, attacked and overpowered us, and we were all either killed or taken prisoners. He besought us to lay aside our plans and stay at home that day, as he was certain that the dream was a warning to be disregarded at our peril.

We were self-willed, however, and would not hsten to advice, but rather ridiculed the warn¬ ings of old Iseankdtd.

“ It is only a dream,” we said ; “ who cares for dreams ? ” and snatching a few mouthfuls of food we set off merrily, making fun of the old man as we went. What fools we were 1 And how we blamed ourselves and each other after¬ wards I

Down the hill we went towards the river, singing, shouting, and skipping along, heedless of the danger into which we were running. Having reached the bottom of the hill, we made our way along the forest path which skirts the river bank, and ere long came to the place we had decided on visiting.

Very soon we scattered and commenced work, and were just rejoicing to find that the fish were plentiful and we were hkely to have a good lot to take home with us at night, when we were suddenly startled by a rustling in the bush close to us.

Before we had time to realise what had hap¬ pened, we were surrounded by numbers of fierce cannibal warriors who had been in hiding, wait¬ ing for a chance to pounce upon some defenceless party of a weaker tribe.

We tried to fight them, but being almost without arms, we had no chance against these men who had come prepared for battle, and we were completely at their mercy. One or two slaves who went with us were killed, but the women and we boys and girls were tied together with strong creepers and taken prisoners.

Our captors gathered up the corpses of the men they had killed, and compelled some of our number to carry them, and then we were ordered to march off with them. We kept a sharp look out for any opportunity to escape, but this was impossible as we were too well watched. We were taken across the river and away into the forest, in the depth of which we encamped ust before the sun went down.

During all that night we lay awake, weeping for our homes and friends, and more for our¬ selves, watching our enemies prepare fires, cut up the corpses of our friends, cook, and after¬ wards eat them ; for to those people we are but nydvia (meat) ; and all the time we feared even to speak, lest we also should be deemed fit morsels for their evening meal.

Early the next morning we were on the road again, and at last towards evening we arrived at Bosomo, the village of our captors, footsore and weary, and faint for want of food.

Everything was strange to us. We eould not even understand the language whieh we heard spoken, but we could guess that inquiries were being made as to the sueeess of the expedition, and that we were being examined and scrutinised from head to foot as to our usefulness either as servants or as food.

Some manioca was given to us by the women, and we were put all together in a large open shed, while some warriors acted as sentries lest we should escape. But there was no danger of that just then, we were far too tired, and in spite of our misery were soon fast asleep.

Chapter II

In the cannibal village — Before the council — Our fate — Desire to please my master — How I succeeded — Our fears and their justification — A sad company — Siene’s murder — The boy who lied — The ordeal by poison • — Village strife — The human peace-offering — The haunting dread — Rumours of the white men — A fright — Makweke’s peril — How he escaped — We plan flight — The start — The chase — A near thing — The river reached — Over, and at home again.

WHEN we awoke it was to find the sun already shining, for after the fight and long walk, in addition to the much talking of the night before, our new masters were as weary as ourselves.

It was not long, however, before the whole village was astir and the morning meal eaten. We were glad to eat the manioca which had been given us the previous night, because now that we had rested we felt the pangs of hunger.

Needless to say, we watched the people furtively to see what they did and what kind of mood they were in.

We were surprised and amused to see that they washed their hands and faces in the dew which was on the plantain leaves, whilst they were also very particular about their teeth. We, of course, clean our teeth; but if one rubs his body occasionally with oil and camwood powder surely he has no need of water ! It only spoils the effect.

When they had finished their ablutions and taken their food the chief and elders of the town gathered together in council, and after a little while we were brought before them. There was much talk, which I could not under¬ stand, but as it was evident that they were deciding our fate we stood there in fear and trembling, not knowing but what some of us might be chosen to furnish another feast for them. Finally it was decided that we should be kept in slavery, and we were di^dded up between the different elders of the town, the chief keeping me and three others as his share of the spoil. And so my name, Bokwala (slave), became true of me and I entered on my life as a slave to the cannibals.

I felt so strange amongst all these people whose language I could not understand, and yet I found that I was expected to enter on my duties at once. Although I had great anger in my heart towards my captors, yet in one way I desired to please them, because by so doing I hoped to make sure of a better time for myself than I should have otherwise. So I set myself to find out what was meant even when I could not understand their words.

When the sun began to slip down a little I noticed that the women commenced to get their fires ready for cooking the evening meal. The wife of my master pointed to me and then to her fire, and was evidently making some request of him which concerned me. He assented and turning to me said, “ Dua na epundu”

I knew he was giving me an order, and immediately rose to obey; but what did he want ? I went into the house and looked round and soon spied an axe. Of course, the woman wanted firewood, and in order to get that one needed an axe. So probably “ Dua na epundu ” meant “Bring the axe.” I picked it up and carried it to my master, who was apparently pleased, for he patted me on the head and said,

“ Mwana mbai, mwana mbai ” (“ My child ”).

Then, pointing with his lips to the forest, he said, “7iu? a lene desa ” (“ Go and cut firewood”).

I had expected that order, so was ready to set off at once, repeating over and over the few words I had learned, in turn with my own language, so that I should not forget them : —

“ Dua na epundu, yela liswa ; ” “ dua na epundu, yela liswa,"' I said over and over again, until I felt sure of the words. Then, while I was cutting the wood, “ Ke a lene desa, Nco yo tena nkui ; " “ Ke a lene desa, Nco yo tena nkui ; " and before long I found that I had enough wood to fill my basket, so I set off* for the village, and was again rewarded by a pat on the head and the words, “ Mwana mbai, mwana mbai ! "

While I was in the forest cutting wood the hunters had come back and brought some animals with them, so I found every one busy preparing meat for cooking. I, with the other children, sat down and watched, when suddenly one of the women turned to me and said, “ Dua na mune."

I sprang up and rushed into the house, but what I had been sent for I could not think. I sat on the ground and wondered, and again I sent my eyes round the little hut. Ah ! that is it 1 oil, of course. They have plenty of meat, and are going to make palm-oil chop. I seized the calabash of oil from under the bed, and ran with it to the woman who had sent me, and was received with a chorus of “ Bia ! bia / ” (“ Just so”), and for the third time received the old chief’s pat on the head, and heard the words, “ Mwana mhai / ”

I began to feel a little less strange, and to listen for other words, for I had already found that the way to please these people was to be bright and do my best. I found that they called nydiiia (meat), tito ; bauta (oil), mune ; ngoya (mother), ngwao, and /a/a (father), sango, and I was just trying to learn these words well so as to remember them afterwards, when the chief called to me, “ Bokwala ! ”

“ Em'one ” (“ I am here ”), said I, in my own language, for I knew not how else to answer.

“ Dua na yeka dia,'’’ said he, beckoning me to their group, who were gathered round to take their evening meal, which was just being served I drew near, and received my share of food, and so I learnt some more words, which meant, “ Come and eat food.”

I began to think that my master did not seem a bad sort of man after all, and that perhaps I might get used to my life there ; but then 1 could not help remembering the fight, and that only two nights before these people had been feasting off my people, and would do so again when they had an opportunity, and I went to sleep that night with my mind made up that if ever I could see the least chance to do so, I would escape, even if it had to be alone.