The number of these “forest guards” employed in the service of the various Concession Companies on the Congo must be very considerable; but it is not only the Concession Companies which employ “forest guards,” for I found many of these men in the service of the La Lulanga Company, which is neither a Concession Company nor endowed with any “rights of police,” so far as I am aware. In the A.B.I.R. Concession there must be at least twenty stations directed by one or more European agents.
Each one of these “factories” has, with the permission of the Government, an armament of twenty-five rifles. According to this estimate of the A.B.I.R. factories, and adding the armament of the two steamers that Company possesses, it will be found that this one Concession Company employs 550 rifles, with a supply of cartridges not, I believe, as yet legally fixed. These rifles are supposed by law not to be taken from the limits of the factories, whereas the “sentries” or “forest guards” are quartered in well-nigh every rubber-producing village of the entire Concession.
These men are each armed with a cap-gun, and the amount of ammunition they may individually expend would seem to have no legal limits. These cap-guns can be very effective weapons. On the Lower Lulongo I bought the skin of a fine leopard from a native hunter who had shot the animal the previous day. He produced a cap-gun and his ammunition for my inspection, and I learned from all the men around him that he alone had killed the beast with his own gun. This gun, he informed me, he had purchased some years ago from a former Commissaire of the Government at Coquilhatville, whose name he gave me.
It would be, I think, a moderate computation to put the number of cap-guns issued by the A.B.I.R. Company to its “sentries” as being in the proportion of six to one to the number of rifles allowed to each factory. These figures could be easily verified, but whatever the proportion may be of cap-guns to rifles, it is clear that the A.B.I.R. Society alone controls a force of some 500 rifles and a very large stock of cap-guns.
The other Concession Companies on the Congo have similar privileges, so that it might not be an excessive estimate to say that these Companies and the subsidiary ones (not enjoying rights of police) between them, direct an armed force of not less than 10,000 men.
Their “rights of police,” by the Circular of Governor-General Wahis of October 1900, were seemingly limited to the right to “requisition” the Government forces in their neighbourhood to maintain order within the limits of the Concession. That Circular, while it touched upon the arming of “Kapitas” with cap-guns, did not clearly define the jurisdiction of these men as a police force or their use of that weapon, but it is evident that the Government has been cognizant of, and is responsible for, the employment of these armed men. By a Royal Decree, dated the 10th March, 1892, very clear enactments were promulgated dealing with the use of all fire-arms other than flint-locks. By the terms of this Decree all fire-arms and their munitions, other than flint-lock guns, were required, immediately upon importation, to be deposited in a depôt or private store placed under the control of the Government. Each weapon imported had to be registered upon its entry into the depôt and marked under the supervision of the Administration, and could not be withdrawn thence save on the presentation of a permit to carry arms. These permits to carry arms were liable each to a tax of 20 fr., and could be withdrawn in case of abuse. By an Ordinance of the Governor-General of the Congo State, dated the 16th June, 1892, various Regulations making locally effective the foregoing Decree were published. It is clear that the responsibility for the extensive employment of men armed with cap-guns by the various commercial Companies on the Upper Congo rests with the governing authority, which either by law permitted it or did not make effective its own laws.
The six natives brought before me at I** had all of them been wounded by gun-fire, and the guns in question could only have come into the hands of their assailants through the permission or the neglect of the authorities. Two of these injured individuals were children—one of them certainly not more than 7 years of age—and the other a child (a boy of about the same age), whose arm was shattered by gun-fire at close quarters. Whatever truth there might be in the direct assertions of these people and their relatives, who attested that the attacks upon them had been made by sentries of the La Lulanga Company, it was clear that they had all been attacked by men using guns, which a law already eleven years old had clearly prohibited from being issued, save in special cases, and “to persons who could offer sufficient guarantee that the arms and the munitions which should be delivered to them would not be given, ceded, or sold to third parties”—and, moreover, under a licence which could at any time be withdrawn.
Three of these injured individuals, subsequent to the initial attack upon them, had had their hands cut off—in each case, as it was alleged to me, by a sentry of the La Lulanga Company. In the one case I could alone personally investigate—that of the boy I I—I found this accusation proved on the spot, without seemingly a shadow of doubt existing as to the guilt of the accused sentry. These six wounded and mutilated individuals came from villages in the immediate vicinity of I**, and both from their lips and from those of others who came to me from a greater distance it was clear that these were not the only cases in that neighbourhood. One man, coming from a village 20 miles away, begged me to return with him to his home, where, he asserted, eight of his fellow-villagers had recently been killed by sentries placed there in connection with the fortnightly yield of india-rubber. But my stay at I** was necessarily a brief one. I had not time to do more than visit the one village of R** and in that village I had only time to investigate the charge brought by I I. The country is, moreover, largely swampy forest, and the difficulties of getting through it are very great. A regularly equipped expedition would have been needed, and the means of anything like an exhaustive inquiry were not at my disposal. But it seemed painfully clear to me that the facts brought to my knowledge in a three days’ stay at I** would amply justify the most exhaustive inquiry being made into the employment of armed men in that region, and the use to which they put the weapons intrusted to them—ostensibly as the authorized dependants of commercial undertakings. From what I had observed in the A.B.I.R. Concession it is equally clear to me that no inquiry could be held to have been exhaustive which did not embrace the territories of that Company also.
The system of quartering Government soldiers in the villages, once universal, has to-day been widely abandoned; but the abuses once prevalent under this head spring to life in this system of “forest guards,” who, over a wide area, represent the only form of local gendarmerie known. But that the practice of employing Government native soldiers in isolated posts has not disappeared is admitted by the highest authorities.
A Circular on this subject, animadverting on the disregard of the reiterated instructions issued, which had forbidden the employment of black troops unaccompanied by a European officer, was dispatched by the Governor-General as recently as the 7th September, 1903, during the period I was actually on the Upper Congo. In this Circular the Commandants and officers of the Force Publique are required to rigorously observe the oft-repeated instructions on this head, and it is pointed out that, in spite of the most imperative orders forbidding the employment of black soldiers bythemselves on the public service—“on continue en maints endroits à pratiquer ce déplorable usage.” Copy of this Circular is appended (Inclosure 7).[19]
From my observation of the districts I travelled on in the Upper Congo, it would seem well-nigh impossible for European officers to be always with the soldiers who may be sent on minor expeditions. The number of officers is limited; they have much to do in drilling their troops, and in camp and station life, while the territory to be exploited is vast. The ramifications of the system of taxation, outlined in the foregoing sketch of it, show it to be of a wide-spread character, and since a more or less constant pressure has to be exercised to keep the taxpayers up to the mark, and over a very wide field, a certain amount of dependance upon the uncontrolled actions of native soldiers (who are the only regular police in the country) must be permitted those responsible for the collection of the tax. The most important article of native taxation in the Upper Congo is unquestionably rubber, and to illustrate the importance attaching by their superiors to the collection and augmentation of this tax, the Circular of Governor-General Wahis, addressed to the Commissionaires de District and Chefs de Zône on the 29th March, 1901, was issued. A copy of that Circular is attached (Inclosure 8).[20]
The instructions this Circular conveys would be excellent if coming from the head of a trading house to his subordinates, but addressed, as they are, by a Governor-General to the principal officers of his administration, they reveal a somewhat limited conception of public duty. Instead of their energies being directed to the government of their districts, the officers therein addressed could not but feel themselves bound to consider the profitable exploitation of india-rubber as one of the principal functions of Government. Taken into account the interpretation these officials must put upon the positive injunctions of their chief, there can be little doubt that they would look upon the profitable production of india-rubber as among the most important of their duties. The praiseworthy official would be he whose district yielded the best and biggest supply of that commodity; and, succeeding in this, the means whereby he brought about the enhanced value of that yield would not, it may be believed, be too closely scrutinized.
When it is remembered that the reprimanded officials are the embodiment of all power in their districts, and that the agents they are authorized to employ are an admittedly savage soldiery, the source whence spring the unhappiness and unrest of the native communities I passed through on the Upper Congo need not be sought far beyond the policy dictating this Circular.
I decided, owing to pressure of other duties, to return from Coquilhatville to Stanley Pool. The last incident of my stay in the Upper Congo occurred on the night prior to my departure. Late that night a man came with some natives of the S** district, represented as his friends, who were fleeing from their homes, and whom he begged me to carry with me to the French territory at Lukolela. These were L L of T** and seven others. L L stated that, owing to his inability to meet the impositions of the Commissaire of the S** district, he had, with his family, abandoned his home, and was seeking to reach Lukolela. He had already come 80 miles down stream by canoe, but was now hiding with friends in one of the towns near Coquilhatville. Part of the imposition laid upon his town consisted of two goats, which had to be supplied each month for the white man’s table at S**. As all the goats in his neighbourhood had long since disappeared in meeting these demands, he could now only satisfy this imposition by buying in inland districts such goats as were for sale. For these he had to pay 3,000 rods each (150 fr.), and as the Government remuneration amounted to only 100 rods (5 fr.) per goat, he had no further means of maintaining the supply. Having appealed in vain for the remission of this burden, no other course was left him but to fly. I told this man I regretted I could not help him, that his proper course was to appeal for relief to the authorities of the district; and this failing, to seek the higher authorities at Boma. This, he said, was clearly impossible for him to do. On the last occasion when he had sought the officials at S**, he had been told that if his next tax were not forthcoming he should go into the “chain gang.” He added that a neighbouring Chief who had failed in this respect had just died in the prison gang, and that such would be his fate if he were caught. He added that, if I disbelieved him, there were those who could vouch for his character and the truth of his statement; and I told him and his friend that I should inquire in that quarter, but that it was impossible for me to assist a fugitive. I added, however, that there was no law on the Congo Statute Bookwhich forbade him or any other man from travelling freely to any part of the country, and his right to navigate in his canoe the Upper Congo was as good as mine in my steamer or any one else’s. He and his people left me at midnight, saying that unless they could get away with me they did not think it possible they could succeed in gaining Lukolela. A person at T**, to whom I referred this statement, informed me that L L’s statement was true. He said: What L L told you,reprice of goats, was perfectly true. At U** they are 3,000, and here they are 2,500 to 3,000 rods. Ducks are from 200 to 300 rods. Fowls are from 60 to 100 rods.Re“dying in the chains,” he had every reason to fear this, for recently two Chiefs died in the chain, viz., the Chief of a little town above U**; his crime: because he did not move his houses a few hundred yards to join them to ... as quickly as the Commissaire thought he should do. Second, the Chief of T**; crime: because he did not go up every fortnight with the tax. These two men were chained together and made to carry heavy loads of bricks and water, and were frequently beaten by the soldiers in charge of them. There are witnesses to prove this.
Leaving the township of Coquilhatville on the 11th September, I reached Stanley Pool on the 15th September.
I have, &c.(Signed) R. CASEMENT.
(See p. 29.)
Notes on Refugee Tribes encountered in July 1903.
Hearing of the L* refugees from I*, I decided to visit the nearest Settlement of these fugitives, some 20 miles away, to see them for myself.
At N* found large town of K*, and scattered through it many small settlements of L* refugees. The town of N* consists approximately of seventy-one K* houses, and seventy-three occupied by L*. These latter seemed industrious, simple folk, many weaving palm fibre into mats or native cloth; others had smithies, working brass wire into bracelets, chains, and anklets; some iron-workers making knives. Sitting down in one of these blacksmith’s sheds, the five men at work ceased and came over to talk to us. I counted ten women, six grown-up men, and eight lads and women in this one shed of L*. I then asked them to tell me why they had left their homes. Three of the men sat down in front of me, and told a tale which I cannot think can be true, but it seemed to come straight from their hearts. I repeatedly asked certain parts to be gone over again while I wrote in my note-book. The fact of my writing down and asking for names, &c., seemed to impress them, and they spoke with what certainly impressed me as being great sincerity.
I asked, first, why they had left their homes, and had come to live in a strange far-off country among the K*, where they owned nothing, and were little better than servitors. All, when this question was put, women as well, shouted out, “On account of the rubber tax levied by the Government posts.”
I asked particularly the names of the places whence they had come. They answered they were from V**. Other L* refugees here at N* were W**, others again were X**, but all had fled from their homes for the same reason—it was the “rubber tax.”
I asked then how this tax was imposed. One of them, who had been hammering out an iron neck collar on my arrival, spoke first. He said:—
“I am N N. These other two beside me are O O and P P, all of us Y**. From our country each village had to take twenty loads of rubber. These loads were big: they were as big as this....” (Producing an empty basket which came nearly up to the handle of my walking-stick.) “That was the first size. We had to fill that up, but as rubber got scarcer the white man reduced the amount. We had to take these loads in four times a-month.”
Q.“How much pay did you get for this?”
A.(Entire audience.) “We got no pay! We got nothing!”
And then N N, whom I asked, again said:—
“Our village got cloth and a little salt, but not the people who did the work. Our Chiefs eat up the cloth; the workers got nothing. The pay was a fathom of cloth and a little salt for every big basket full, but it was given to the Chief, never to the men. It used to take ten days to get the twenty baskets of rubber—we were always in the forest and then when we were late we were killed. We had to go further and further into the forest to find the rubber vines, to go without food, and our women had to give up cultivating the fields and gardens. Then we starved. Wild beasts—the leopards—killed some of us when we were working away in the forest, and others got lost or died from exposure and starvation, and we begged the white man to leave us alone, saying we could get no more rubber, but the white men and their soldiers said: ‘Go! You are only beasts yourselves, you are nyama (meat).’ We tried, always going further into the forest, and when we failed and our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us. Many were shot, some had their ears cut off; others were tied up with ropes around their necks and bodies and taken away. The white men sometimes at the postsdid not know of the bad things the soldiers did to us, but it was the white men who sent the soldiers to punish us for not bringing in enough rubber.”
Here P P took up the tale from N N:—
“We said to the white men, ‘We are not enough people now to do what you want us. Our country has not many people in it and we are dying fast. We are killed by the work you make us do, by the stoppage of our plantations, and the breaking up of our homes.’ The white man looked at us and said: ‘There are lots of people in Mputu’ ” (Europe, the white man’s country). “ ‘If there are lots of people in the white man’s country there must be many people in the black man’s country.’ The white man who said this was the chief white man at F F*, his name was A B, he was a very bad man. Other white men of Bula Matadi who had been bad and wicked were B C, C D, and D E.” “These had killed us often, and killed us by their own hands as well as by their soldiers. Some white men were good. These were E F, F G, G H, H I, I K, K L.”
These ones told them to stay in their homes and did not hunt and chase them as the others had done, but after what they had suffered they did not trust more any one’s word, and they had fled from their country and were now going to stay here, far from their homes, in this country where there was no rubber.
Q.“How long is it since you left your homes, since the big trouble you speak of?”
A.“It lasted for three full seasons, and it is now four seasons since we fled and came into the K* country.”
Q.“How many days is it from N* to your own country?”
A.“Six days of quick marching. We fled because we could not endure the things done to us. Our Chiefs were hanged, and we were killed and starved and worked beyond endurance to get rubber.”
Q.“How do you know it was the white men themselves who ordered these cruel things to be done to you? These things must have been done without the white man’s knowledge by the black soldiers.”
A.(P P): “The white men told their soldiers: ‘You kill only women; you cannot kill men. You must prove that you kill men.’ So then the soldiers when they killed us” (here he stopped and hesitated, and then pointing to the private parts of my bulldog—it was lying asleep at my feet), he said: “then they cut off those things and took them to the white men, who said: ‘It is true, you have killed men.’ ”
Q.“You mean to tell me that any white man ordered your bodies to be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?”
P P, O O, and all (shouting): “Yes! many white men. D E did it.”
Q.“You say this is true? Were many of you so treated after being shot?”
All (shouting out): “Nkoto! Nkoto!” (Very many! Very many!)
There was no doubt that these people were not inventing. Their vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated. Doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling what they knew and loathed. I was told that they often became so furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they lost control over themselves. One of the men before me was getting into this state now.
I asked whether L* tribes were still running from their country, or whether they now stayed at home and worked voluntarily.
N N answered: “They cannot run away now—not easily; there are sentries in the country there between the Lake and this; besides, there are few people left.”
P P said: “We heard that letters came to the white men to say that the people were to be well treated. We heard that these letters had been sent by the big white men in ‘Mputu’ (Europe); but our white men tore up these letters, laughing, saying: ‘We are the “basango” and “banyanga” (fathers and mothers,i.e., elders). Those who write to us are only “bana” (children).’ Since we left our homes the white men have asked us to go home again. We have heard that they want us to go back, but we will not go. We are not warriors, and do not want to fight. We only want to live in peace with our wives and children, and so we stay here among the K*, who are kind to us, and will not return to our homes.”
Q.“Would you not like to go back to your homes? Would you not, in your hearts, all wish to return?”
A.(By many.) “We loved our country, but we will not trust ourselves to go back.”
P P: “Go, you white men, with the steamer to I*, and see what we have told you is true. Perhaps if other white men, who do not hate us, go there, Bula Matadi may stop from hating us, and we may be able to go home again.”
I asked to be pointed out any refugees from other tribes, if there were such, and they brought forward a lad who was a X**, and a man of the Z**. These two, answering me, said there were many with them from their tribes who had fled from their country.
Went on about fifteen minutes to another L* group of houses in the midst of the K* town. Found here mostly W**, an old Chief sitting in the open village Council-house with a Z** man and two lads. An old woman soon came and joined, and another man. The woman began talking with much earnestness. She said the Government had worked them so hard they had had no time to tend their fields and gardens, and they had starved to death. Her children had died; her sons had been killed. The two men, as she spoke, muttered murmurs of assent.
The old Chief said: “We used to hunt elephants long ago, there were plenty in our forests, and we got much meat; but Bula Matadi killed the elephant hunters because they could not get rubber, and so we starved. We were sent out to get rubber, and when we came back with little rubber we were shot.”
Q.“Who shot you?”
A.“The white men ... sent their soldiers out to kill us.”
Q.“How do you know it was the white man who sent the soldiers? It might be only these savage soldiers themselves.”
A.“No, no. Sometimes we brought rubber into the white man’s stations. We took rubber to D E’s station, E E*, and to F F* and to ...’s station. When it was not enough rubber the white man would put some of us in lines, one behind the other, and would shoot through all our bodies. Sometimes he would shoot us like that with his own hand; sometimes his soldiers would do it.”
Q.“You mean to say you were killed in the Government posts themselves by the Government white men themselves, or under their eyes?”
A.(Emphatically.) “We were killed in the stations of the white men themselves. We were killed by the white man himself. We were shot before his eyes.”
The names D E, B C, and L M, were names I heard repeatedly uttered.
The Z** man said he, too, had fled; now he lived at peace with the K*.
The abnormal refugee population in this one K* town must equal the actual K* population itself. On every hand one finds these refugees. They seem, too, to pass busier lives than their K* hosts, for during all the hot hours of the afternoon, wherever I walked through the town—and I went all through N* until the sun set—I found L* weavers, or iron and brass workers, at work.
Slept at M M’s house. Many people coming to talk to us after dark.
Left N* about 8 to return to the Congo bank. On the way back left the main path and struck into one of the side towns, a village called A A*. This lies only some 4 or 5 miles from the river. Found here thirty-two L* houses with forty-three K*, so that the influx of fugitives here is almost equal to the original population. Saw many L*. All were frightened, and they and the K* were evidently so ill at ease that I did not care to pause. Spoke to one or two men only as we walked through the town. The L* drew away from us, but on looking back saw many heads popped out of doors of the houses we had passed.
Got back to steamer about noon.
Heard that L* came sometimes to M* from I*. I am now 100 miles (about) up-river from N*. Went into one of the M* country farm towns called B B*. Found on entering plantation two huts with five men and one woman, who I at once recognized by their head-dress as L*, like those at N*. The chief speaker, a young man named ... who lives at B B*. He seems about 22 or 23, and speaks with an air of frankness. He says: “The L* here and others who come to M*, come from a place C C*. It is connected with the lake by a stream. His own town in the district of C C* is D D*. C C* is a big district and had many people. They now bring the Government india-rubber, kwanga, and fowls, and work on broad paths connecting each village. His own village has to take 300 baskets of india-rubber. They get one piece of cotton cloth, called locally sanza, and no more.” (Note.—This cannot be true. He is doubtless exaggerating.) Four other men with him were wearing the rough palm-fibre cloth of the country looms, and they pointed to this as proof that they got no cloth for their labours. K K continuing said: “We were then killed for not bringing in enough rubber.”
Q.“You say you were killed for not bringing in rubber. Were you ever mutilated as proof that the soldiers had killed you?”
A.“When we were killed the white man was there himself. No proof was needed. Men and women were put in a line with a palm tree and were shot.”
Here he took three of the four men sitting down and put them one in line behind the other, and said: “The white men used to put us like that and shoot all with one cartridge. That was often done, and worse things.”
Q.“But how, if you now have to work so hard, are you yourselves able to come here to M* to see your friends?”
A.“We came away without the sentries or soldiers knowing, but when we get home we may have trouble.”
Q.“Do you know the L* who are now at N*?” (Here I gave the names of N N, O O, and P P.)
A.“Yes; many L* fled to that country. N N we know ran away on account of the things done to them by the Government white men. The K* and L* have always been friends. That is why the L* fled to them for refuge.”
Q.“Are there sentries or soldiers in your villages now?”
A.“In the chief villages there are always four soldiers with rifles. When natives go out into the forest to collect rubber they would leave one of their number behind to stay and protect the women. Sometimes the soldiers finding him thus refused to believe what he said, and killed him for shirking his work. This often happens.”
Asked how far it was from M* to their country they say three days’ journey, and then about two days more on to I* by water, or three if by land. They begged us to go to their country, they said: “We will show you the road, we will take you there, and you will see how things are, and that our country has been spoiled, and we are speaking the truth.”
Left them here and returned to the river bank.
The foregoing entries made at the time in my note-book seemed to me, if not false, greatly exaggerated, although the statements were made with every air of conviction and sincerity. I did not again meet with any more L* refugees, for on my return to G* I stayed only a fewhours. A few days afterwards, while I was at Stanley Pool, I received further evidence in a letter of which the following is an extract:—
“I was sorry not to see you as you passed down, and so missed the opportunity of conveying to you personally a lot of evidence as to the terrible maladministration practised in the past in the district. I saw the official at the post of E E*. He is the successor of the infamous wretch D E, of whom you heard so much yourself from the refugees at N*. This D E was in this district in ..., ..., and ..., and he it was that depopulated the country. His successor, M N, is very vehement in his denunciations of him, and declares that he will leave nothing undone that he can do to bring him to justice. He is now stationed at G G*, near our station at H H*. Of M N I have nothing to say but praise. In a very difficult position he has done wonderfully. The people are beginning to show themselves and gathering about the many posts under his charge. M N told me that when he took over the station at E E* from D E he visited the prison, and almost fainted, so horrible was the condition of the place and the poor wretches in it. He told me of many things he had heard of from the soldiers. Of D E shooting with his own hand man after man who had come with an insufficient quantity of rubber. Of his putting several one behind the other and shooting them all with one cartridge. Those who accompanied me, also heard from the soldiers many frightful stories and abundant confirmation of what was told us at N* about the taking to D E of the organs of the men slain by the sentries of the various posts. I saw a letter from the present officer at F F* to M N, in which he upbraids him for not using more vigorous means, telling him to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more than one in a district under his care where there was a little trouble. M N is due in Belgium in about three months, and says he will land one day and begin denouncing his predecessor the next. I received many favours from him, and should be sorry to injure him in any way.... He has already accepted a position in one of the Companies, being unable to continue longer in the service of the State. I have never seen in all the different parts of the State which I have visited a neater station, or a district more under control than that over which this M N presides. He is the M N the people of N* told us of, who they said was kind.
“If I can give you any more information, or if there are any questions you would like to put to me, I shall be glad to serve you, and through you these persecuted people.”
From a separate communication, I extract the following paragraphs:—
“...I heard of some half-dozen L* who were anxious to visit their old home, and would be willing to go with me; so, after procuring some necessary articles in the shape of provisions and barter, I started from our post at N*. It was the end of the dry season, and many of the water-courses were quite dry, and during some days we even found the lack of water somewhat trying. The first two days’ travelling was through alternating forest and grass plain, our guides, as far as possible, avoiding the villages.... Getting fresh guides from a little village, we got into a region almost entirely forested, and later descended into a gloomy valley still dripping from the rain. According to our guides we should soon be through this, but it was not until the afternoon of the second day after entering that we once more emerged from the gloom. Several times we lost the track, and I had little inclination to blame the guides, for several times the undergrowth and a species of thorn palm were trodden down in all directions by the elephants. It would seem to be a favourite hunting ground of theirs, and once we got very close to a large herd who went off at a furious pace, smashing down the small trees, trumpeting, and making altogether a most terrifying noise. The second night in this forest we came across, when looking for the track, a little village of runaways from the rubber district. When assured of our friendliness they took us in and gave us what shelter they could. During the night another tornado swept the country and blew down a rotten tree, some branches of which fell in amongst my tent and the little huts in which some of the boys were sleeping. It was another most narrow escape.
“Early the next day we were conducted by one of the men of this village to the right road, and very soon found ourselves travelling along a track which had evidently been, at only a recent date, opened up by a number of natives. ‘What was it?’ ‘Oh! it is the road along which we used to carry rubber to the white men.’ ‘But why used to?’ ‘Oh, all the people have either run away, or have been killed or died of starvation, and so there is no one to get rubber any longer.’
“That day we made a very long march, being nearly nine and a-half hours walking, and passing through several other large depopulated districts. On all sides were signs of a very recent large population, but all was as quiet as death, and buffaloes roamed at will amongst the still growing manioc and bananas. It was a sad day, and when, as the sun was setting, we came upon a large State post we were plunged into still greater grief. True, there was a comfortable house at our service, and houses for all the party; but we had not been long there before we found that we had reached the centre of what was once a very thickly populated region, known as C C*, from which many refugees in the neighbourhood of G* had come. It was here a white man, known by the name of D E, lived.... He came to the district, and, after seven months of diabolical work, left it a waste. Some of the stories current about him are not fit to record here, but the native evidence is so consistent and so universal that it is difficult to disbelieve that murder and rapine on a large scale were carried on here. His successor, a man of a different nature, and much liked by the people, after more than two and a-half years has succeeded in winning back to the side of the State post a few natives, and there I saw them in their wretched little huts, hardly able to call their lives their own in the presence of the new white man (myself), whose coming among them had set them all a-wondering. From this there was no fear of losing the track. For many miles it was a broad road, from 6 to 10 feet in width,and wherever there was a possibility of water settling logs were laid down. Some of these viaducts were miles in length, and must have entailed immense labour; whilst rejoicing in the great facility with which we could continue our journey, we could not help picturing the many cruel scenes which, in all probability, were a constant accompaniment to the laying of these huge logs. I wish to emphasize as much as possible the desolation and emptiness of the country we passed through. That it was only very recently a well-populated country, and, as things go out here, rather more densely than usual, was very evident. After a few hours we came to a State rubber post. In nearly every instance these posts are most imposing, some of them giving rise to the supposition that several white men were residing in them. But in only one did we find a white man—the successor of D E. At one place I saw lying about in the grass surrounding the post, which is built on the site of several very large towns, human bones, skulls, and, in some places, complete skeletons. On inquiring the reason for this unusual sight: ‘Oh!’ said my informant, ‘When the bambote (soldiers) were sent to make us cut rubber there were so many killed we got tired of burying, and sometimes when we wanted to bury we were not allowed to.’
“ ‘But why did they kill you so?’
“ ‘Oh! sometimes we were ordered to go, and the sentry would find us preparing food to eat while in the forest, and he would shoot two or three to hurry us along. Sometimes we would try and do a little work on our plantations, so that when the harvest time came we should have something to eat, and the sentry would shoot some of us to teach us that our business was not to plant but to get rubber. Sometimes we were driven off to live for a fortnight in the forest without any food and without anything to make a fire with, and many died of cold and hunger. Sometimes the quantity brought was not sufficient, and then several would be killed to frighten us to bring more. Some tried to run away, and died of hunger and privation in the forest in trying to avoid the State posts.’
“ ‘But,’ said I, ‘if the sentries killed you like that, what was the use? You could not bring more rubber when there were fewer people.’
“ ‘Oh! as to that, we do not understand it. These are the facts.’
“And looking around on the scene of desolation, on the untended farms and neglected palms, one could not but believe that in the main the story was true. From State sentries came confirmation and particulars even more horrifying, and the evidence of a white man as to the state of the country—the unspeakable condition of the prisons at the State posts—all combined to convince me over and over again that, during the last seven years, this ‘domaine privé’ of King Leopold has been a veritable ‘hell on earth.’
“The present régime seems to be more tolerable. A small payment is made for the rubber now brought in. A little salt—say a pennyworth—for 2 kilogrammes of rubber, worth in Europe from 6 to 8 fr. The collection is still compulsory, but, compared with what has gone before, the natives consider themselves fairly treated. There is a coming together of families and communities and the re-establishment of villages; but oh! in what sadly diminished numbers, and with what terrible gaps in the families.... Near a large State post we saw the only large and apparently normal village we came across in all the three weeks we spent in the district. One was able to form here some estimate of what the population was before the advent of the white man and the search for rubber....”
It will be observed that the devastated region whence had come the refugees I saw at N*, comprises a part of the “Domaine de la Couronne.”
(See p. 29.)
(A.)
The Rev. J. Whitehead to Governor-General of Congo State.
Dear Sir,
Baptist Missionary Society, Lukolela, July 28, 1903.
I HAVE the honour to acknowledge the receipt of the Circular and the List of Questions respecting the sleep sickness sent through the Rev. J. L. Forfeitt.
I hasten to do my best in reply, for the matter is of paramount importance, and I trust that if I may seem to trespass beyond my limits in stating my opinions in reference to this awful sickness and matters kindred thereto, my zeal may be interpreted as arising from excessive sorrow and sympathy for a disappearing people. I believe I shall be discharging my duty to the State and His Majesty King Leopold II, whose desire for the facts in the interests of humanity have long been published, if I endeavour to express myself as clearly as I can regarding the necessities of the natives of Lukolela.
The population of the villages of Lukolela in January 1891 must have been not less than 6,000 people, but when I counted the whole population in Lukolela at the end of December 1896 I found it to be only 719, and I estimated from the decrease, as far as we could count up the number of known deaths during the year, that at the same rate of decrease in ten years the people would be reduced to about 400, but judge of my heartache when on counting them all again on Friday and Saturday last to find only a population of 352 people, and the death-rate rapidly increasing. I note also a decrease very appallingly apparent in the inland districts duringthe same number of years; three districts are well-nigh swept out (these are near to the river), and others are clearly diminished; so that if something is not soon done to give the people heart and remove their fear and trembling (conditions which generate fruitfully morbid conditions and proneness to attacks of disease), doubtless the whole place will be very soon denuded of its population. The pressure under which they live at present is crushing them; the food which they sadly need themselves very often must, under penalty, be carried to the State post, also grass, cane string, baskets for the “caoutchouc” (the last three items do not appear to be paid for); the “caoutchouc” must be brought in from the inland districts; their Chiefs are being weakened in their prestige and physique through imprisonment, which is often cruel, and thus weakened in their authority over their own people, they are put into chains for the shortage of manioc bread and “caoutchouc.”
In the riverine part of Lukolela we have done our very best as non-official members of the State to cope with disease in every way possible to us; but so far the officials of the State have never attempted even the feeblest effort to assist the natives of Lukolela to recover themselves or guard themselves in any way from disease. In times of small-pox, when no time can be lost in the interests of the community, I have, perhaps, gone sometimes beyond my rights as a private citizen in dealing with it. But there has always been the greatest difficulty in getting food for them (the patients) and nurses for them, even when the people were not compelled to take their food supply to the State post, but when food supplies and labour are compressed into one channel all voluntary philanthropy is paralyzed. It is quite in vain for us to teach these poor people the need of plenty of good food, for we appear to them as those who mock; they point to the food which must be taken to the post. A weekly tax of 900 brass rods’ worth of manioc bread from 160 women, half of whom are not capable of much hard and continuous work, does not leave much margin for them to listen to teaching concerning personal attention in matters of food. At present they are compelled to supply a number of workmen, and some of these are retained after their terms are completed against their will; the villages need the presence of their men, there are at present but eighty-two in the villages of Lukolela, and I can see the shadow of death over nearly twenty of them.[21]
The inland people and their Chiefs tremble when they must go down to the river, so much has been done latterly to shake their confidence, and this fear is not strengthening them physically, but undermining their constitutions, such as they are. They hate the compulsory “caoutchouc” business, and they naturally do their best to get away from it. If something is not quickly done to give these timid and disheartened people contentment and their home life assured to them, sickness will speedily remove many, and those who remain will look upon the white man, of whatever nation or position, as their natural enemy (it is not far from that now). Some have already sworn to die, be killed, or anything else rather than be forced to bring in “caoutchouc,” which spells imprisonment and subsequent death to them; what they hear as having been done they quite understand can be done to them, so they conclude they may as well die first as last. The State has fought with them twice already, if not more; but it is useless, they will not submit. A cave of Adullam is a thing not always easily reckoned with.
May I be permitted to seize the present opportunity of respectfully pleading on behalf of this people that their rights be respected, and that the attention as of a father to his children be sympathetically shown them? May I also be permitted to place before you a few suggestions which have been impelled into my mind face to face with this dying people of what is their need while medical inquiry goes forward, please God, to master this terrible scourge? I suggest the following as immediately needful for the riverine people:—
1. That the present small population of Lukolela be requested to vacate the present site of their dwellings, and form a community on the somewhat higher ground at present used for gardens, the soil of which has been impoverished by years of manioc growing. This is known by the name Ntomba; and that they be requested to clear the undergrowth on the beach, the sites of their present dwellings, and plant bananas, &c.
2. That no one known to have sleep-sickness be permitted to dwell on the new site; but all be removed to a site lower down the river; and that it shall be the duty of the people to supply their sick with the necessary food and caretakers. The islands are unsuitable, being uninhabitable for a large part of the year.
3. That they be compelled to bury their dead at a considerable distance from the dwellings, and to bury them in graves at least a fathom deep, and not as at present in shallow graves in close proximity to the houses.
4. That they be encouraged to build higher houses with more apertures for the ingress of sunshine and air in the daytime, and with floors considerably raised above the outside ground.
5. That a strong endeavour be made to get them to provide better latrine arrangements.
6. That they be encouraged to give up eating and drinking together from the same dish or vessel in common.
7. That the men be encouraged to follow their old practices of hunting, fishing, blacksmithing, &c., and with the women care for their gardens and homes, and that they be given every protection in these duties and in the holding of their property against the State soldiers and workmen and everybody else that wants to interfere with their rights.
8. All the foregoing they will not be able to do unless the present compulsory method of acquiring their labour and their food by the State is exchanged for a voluntary one.
9. That the Chiefs or present chief representatives of the deceased Chiefs among whom theland was divided before the State came into existence (I believe about three will be found at Lukolela itself) be recognized as the executive of these matters, and that they be requested to devote their levies (restored as of old) made on the produce, &c., of their lands to the betterment of their towns and district, by making roads through their lands, &c.
10. To appoint sentries to carry out either the above or any other beneficent rules in any of the villages would be to endeavour to mend the present deplorable condition with an evil a hundred-fold worse.
All the above suggestions adjusted to suit the locality are equally applicable to the inland districts.
In answering the list of questions I would say:—
1. Sleep-sickness is sadly only too well known at Lukolela. It is prevalent in the whole of the riverine and inland districts. In the inland districts I am not yet able to say whether it is more prevalent than in the riverine one; that can only be ascertained by a more prolonged residence there than as yet I have had opportunity to make. In the riverine district I estimate that quite half of the deaths are from sleep-sickness. The cases do not occur in batches like cases of small-pox and measles do; there are too many in a given place unaffected at one time. It will, however, gradually sweep away whole families. The common notion among the natives is that the sickness came from down-river; and it was prevalent, though not to such an extent as now, as far back as the oldest people I have met can remember. Before our Mission was founded here a suspected case would be thrown into the river; but inland I do not think there is any evidence to show that they did otherwise than to-day—nurse their sick perfectly, heedless of the contagion in respect of them (the nurses) or their friends, and, as they do on the beach, bury their dead close to their houses, and in some cases live on the top of the graves.
2. From my own observation (since January 1891) the sickness is endemic; in the riverine villages the death-rate slowly increased until 1894, when the people quite lost heart and felt their homes were no longer secure to them, and then hunger, improper food, fear, and homelessness appeared to increase the death-rate from sleep-sickness and other causes most appallingly, and the rate has still further increased, especially during the last two years. The fewer the population becomes the proportionate rate of death increases most fearfully.
3. The district of Lukolela may be described as follows: The beach line is wooded, broken by one or two creeks, one of which winds for a considerable distance inland to a district which can be reached overland by a journey of at least three days at the shortest. There is more or less of low-lying land connected with the creeks. The 6 miles below the Mission station is lower than the 8 miles above. The highest point of our land is about 19 metres above high-water level, and possibly there is a further rise of 3 metres or so further up stream. The ground which I suggest the people be removed to may be on an average about 12 to 15 metres above high-water level. This ridge of river bank shelves down into low-wooded land and grass plains which are flooded at high water, though for the most part dry at the lowest ebb; then behind these rise small plateaus separated by low valleys of wooded and grassy land. From the pools and streams of this low ground the people get most of their fish; even when the river is at medium height a journey between the various plateaus where the villages and farms are found requires about half the time to be spent in wading, sometimes breast deep.
4. A large proportion of the population is comprised of slaves, mostly from the tributaries of the Equator district, some from the Mobsi, Likuba, and Likwala peoples on the north bank, some from Ngombe below Irebu, some from as far as the district of Lake Léopold II and other places. All the tribes represented seem equally affected, and neither slave nor freeman seems to have preferential treatment.
5. To an ordinary observer the men, women, and children appear to be affected alike. It is not easy to always differentiate the sickness from other maladies, for often it may be that the malady gives rise to various complications; these complications are extremely intractable if sleep-sickness be present. When a man in the prime of life has his prestige and spirit broken through fear and punishment he loses interest in his home, refuses to take food and drink; a sleep-sickness patient will do the same. With the women in all cases we have known there is also present amenorrhœa; sometimes treatment for this has restored the patient in this respect for a time, but there has in all cases we have known of this sort been a relapse; so whether the patient died of one or the other would be difficult to say.
6. The well-fed do not seem to fall before the scourge so rapidly as the ill-fed. The progress of the disease seems to us considerably slower as a rule with those who take care of their food and habits, but it attacks even the most scrupulously attentive to these matters.
There is a very bad practice amongst them: they will go sometimes days without eating, although they may have manioc and plantain, and other foods from the soil at hand, simply because they have no fish or flesh to eat with them; sometimes they pinch themselves in food to retain their brass rods for the purchase of some coveted article. The natives to-day are not so careful in the preparation of food, and it is more hastily performed; the manioc is eaten as nearly the raw state as they dare use it. The bitter manioc is mostly grown, as the yield from it is greater than from any other kind. Plantains are largely eaten roasted, and boiled, and beaten into a pudding. Palm-nuts, too, they are very fond of, and the oil forms a good part of the cooked foods. They use, especially in the absence of fish or flesh, the leaves of the manioc, which are bruised and boiled; in nearly every case, however, head-and stomach-ache follow, which pass off in a few days if bowels be active. Well-peppered food they enjoy, and rotten fish and flesh they do not, as a rule, despise. Their dried fish, of which a large quantity is eaten, is not by any means always free from maggots. Elephant meat seems to give them diarrhœa; dog-headed bats similarly; hippo meat generally produces slight constipation. I am afraid a good deal of disease is passed from person to person in the preparation of food. There is a great deal of eatingtogether and drinking together from one and the same vessel; they dip their hands in the mess prepared as they sit round the pot, and I cannot say that they are too careful of the condition of their hands at the time. Clothing is usually scant except for decoration; hence the colder the weather the less the clothing, the brighter and warmer the more they carry. Washing is not a very frequent exercise among the natives. They like, as a rule, teeth kept clean, washing them every day and after every meal. They like to smear their bodies with oil and camwood. The hair is left undressed or dressed as the case may be for weeks at a time without further cleansing. Sleeping is mostly done on raised constructions of sticks, varying from half a-foot from the ground to about 3 feet or so. I am afraid that not much in the way of covering is used while sleeping, a blanket being mostly worn during the day as an article of fine clothing. Many, especially those in temporary residence, sleep on the ground floor with only a mat intervening. Jiggers, bugs, mosquitos, and vermin abound in their houses on the beach, but jiggers are not so plentiful, and mosquitos very rare inland. The inland people take great care of their water sources, but on the beach the river water is largely used, and this is of a dark brown colour; some is taken from the creeks, but it is very impure, abounding with decayed vegetation and clay, and some from springs, such as they are, and these are only surface drainings over the clayey subsoil. The sweepings of their huts and refuse from their food is not thrown far away, sometimes even being quite close up against one of the walls of the hut. In the daytime they relieve themselves in the nearest sheltered spot without further discrimination, and these places, in the present uncleared character of their surroundings, are very close at hand; in the night time they are not so particular, but will even relieve themselves in the open, and on the paths trod by every one. The common belief is that the disease is communicated by means of the secretions, and yet, strange to say, the natives take scarcely any precautions.
7. All the cases we have known have been fatal. We have thought sometimes we have done good with iodide of potassium and cod-liver oil, but if it did any good at all it was only very temporary. We judge from our observations that from the first symptoms which appear to be mental ones, the best cared for cases last for from one to three years. Others in which food is soon refused and neglect is suffered may speedily terminate in a few months, or even weeks, from the first certain indications. The first symptoms seem to be mental, the balance of thought fails at intervals, then come the physical signs of pain in the lower part of the back; often thought here to be piles, and they seek the usual remedies for this; later the pain extends to the whole back and then to the head, especially at the back of the neck, and drowsiness steals over the patient at inconvenient times, often the eyes become staring, the face assumes a haggard appearance, and anæmia casts its pallor over the whole body; intelligence rapidly diminishes, and often the patient dies foaming at the mouth; if burial does not take place quickly maggots soon make their appearance in the body. When the natives begin to stuff their remedies up their patient’s nostrils to take away the “confusion of eyes” (a phrase which they use to describe a person going out of his senses) the patient will very likely become violently deranged, and then he has to be forcibly restrained in stocks or otherwise.
Isolation is undoubtedly the first thing to do, but when to begin the isolation is a difficulty, and when that is settled to maintain the isolation is still a greater one. The patients could not be left to die, they would need food, attending to (for they become so helpless latterly) and burying, and almost all who undertook that work would be sure eventually to succumb. To get a person here, however, to look after somebody else’s relative is a well nigh impossibility by moral suasion.
I should have noted above that the experiment of better houses, such as the youths and workmen have built in the little village adjoining the Mission station (wattle and daub, with good high roofs), have given no benefit whatever. Very few of them will be able to remain for more than one or two years; the occupants are showing signs that are ominous; we shall need to burn them down at the decease of the occupants.
Apologizing for trespassing on your attention at so great a length, I beg you to accept, &c.
(Signed) JOHN WHITEHEAD
The Rev. J. Whitehead to Governor-General of Congo State.
Baptist Missionary Society, Lukolela, Haut Congo,September 7, 1903.
Dear Sir,
I have recently paid a visit, along with my wife, to the inland district of Lukolela, and I have had related to me such accounts, and have myself seen such evidence of what seems to me both illegal and cruel occurrences, that my blood had been made to boil with indignation and abhorrence. I take upon myself the humanitarian duty, which is truly the call of God, to supplement my letter to you on the subject of sleep-sickness and the general decline of these peoples, and confirm some of my statements by the presentation of facts of which I have the knowledge. It may be that in some of my statements I may be trusting to bruised reeds, but, as far as possible, I am persuaded of the truth of what I present to your consideration.
On the 16th August, 1902, I called the attention of the Commissaire-Général at Léopoldville to a murder which had been committed by a soldier by shooting two men while still in the chain.They had been sent, in addition, to a youth who was walking unchained to draw water from a pool some 2 kilom. distant from the lower post of Lukolela by a telegraph clerk named M. Gadot (M. de Becker being the Chef de Poste resident at the upper station). The unchained youth was flogged by the soldier by a chicotte taken from a house on the way, and the youth fled, and the soldier shot the two men left. My letter was taken down river by a steamer which passed here in course of a week. Nothing was done by the men in charge of the posts here until, by letter of the 15th September, 1902, I was requested by the Chef de Poste to send up my witnesses. Those witnesses could have been had the same day of the deed if the officers had done their duty. I went up with such witnesses as I was able to get together, and their evidence was taken. Nothing more was heard of the matter until the 24th April of this year, when I received a note from the State Agent here asking for certain people attached to our station, whose names he gave. He did not mention the reason of their being required at Léopoldville, but I guessed the reason. I was only able to send one of them, one other having returned to his home, and another being near to death. The man resident in the village, who was one of the witnesses I took up previously, was sent for to the State post and detained, and not allowed to return to make any provision of his journey to the pool. My apprentice and this man went down to the pool to bear witness concerning that murder; on the way the captain of the steamer ordered them off to carry and cut firewood; they demurred, naturally, but for peace sake did a little. In a storm of rain the shelter of the large steamer was denied them, and they spent the night sitting on the beach—the two of them beneath one frail umbrella. When they arrived at the pool, no one seemed to know why they had come; they were sent from pillar to post, then there seems to have been discovered some reason or other to interrogate them. The soldier concerned was with his fellows just the same as though there was no trial, and had, indeed, been no wrong done. But for the friendly offices of a sister Mission these two witnesses would have fared very badly during the six weeks they were detained at Léopoldville; they were practically shelterless and unfed; even as it was, they were hungry enough. At length they returned by our Mission steamer. It seems that the only sufferers in the matter were myself, in the loss of my apprentice for six weeks, and his loss of six weeks’ wages, together with his considerable discomfort and the loss of the man from the village—not much, perhaps, in the eyes of the officials of the State, but much to them; then all their suffering is easily traceable to myself, for if I had not drawn the Commissaire’s attention to the murder no witnesses would have been necessary, for who would have mentioned it? Considering the way in which this matter was dealt with, and the witnesses I produced were treated, I hesitate to bring other matters to light. The treatment these witnesses received only strengthens the distrust of the State, which, in this place, everywhere abounds. I therefore appeal for just treatment of witnesses and those who bring wrong-doing to light.
On the 6th March, 1903, I reported to the State Agent here (M. Lecomte) that I had seen at Mibenga a Chief, named Mopali, of Ngelo, who had been carried from the Lukolela post, where he had been imprisoned, so as to induce his village to bring more rubber. His head was wounded as with an iron instrument of some kind, his lips were swollen as if from a severe blow, and his legs were damaged as with blows from sticks. He and his bearer asserted that these wounds were given him while he was chained and made to carry firewood. M. Lecomte replied that the man had been seen by him before he left, and he was then all right and asked for my witnesses. I replied that the man himself and bearer were my informants. He said he wished to trace the doers of the deed. Nothing more was heard of the matter, so later I acquainted the Directeur-Général at Léopoldville by letter, dated the 10th July, of the facts. Meanwhile, up to the present, I have heard of nothing being done in the matter, only a repetition of a similar case.
I was at the village of Mopali on the 18th August, and I inquired for the poor fellow; some said he was dead, but most said that he had been carried by his wife, at his own request, away out of the way, so that he should not be found. He was afraid of the State chaining him again. From them I heard he had been even worse maltreated than at first I knew; they told me that his feet had been cut so that he despaired of walking again, and those who had seen him last said he got along by dragging himself along on his buttocks. I asked them pointedly whether they heard from Mopali where he got his wounds; was it not after he left the white man’s presence? With one voice the little crowd I asked replied, “No; he received those wounds while in the chain.” I gathered also that at first they were forced to take five baskets of rubber, and to make them take ten they had chained up Mopali, and that two more baskets had been recently added.
I learnt also that the youth who had run away from the soldier on the occasion of the murder of the two chained prisoners was dead. I asked how it was he was imprisoned at the post; they explained that he was taken to free his master from the chain, which had been put round his neck, to get more rubber from his village, and both youth and master were since dead. They recounted these things to me, and asked me if they were just. A case-hardened Jesuit would find it difficult to say yes. I could only blush with shame and say they were unjust.
On the 17th August, at Mibenga, the Chief, Lisanginya, made a statement to me in the presence of others, to the following effect: They had taken the usual tax of eight baskets of rubber, and he was sent for (I think it was the 8th June when he passed on his way through our station), and the white man (M. Lecomte, M. Gadot also being present) said the baskets were too few, and that they must bring other three; meanwhile, they put the chain round his neck, the soldiers beat him with sticks, he had to cut firewood, to carry heavy junks, and to haul logs in common with others. Three mornings he was compelled to carry the receptacle from the white man’s latrine and empty it in the river. On the third day (sickening to relate) he was made to drink therefrom by a soldier named Lisasi. A youth named Masuka was in the chain at the sameplace and time, and saw the thing done. When the three extra baskets were produced he was set at liberty. He was ill for several days after his return. I referred to this in my letter of the 28th July, but it was too horrible a thing to write the additional item until I had heard the thing from the man’s own lips. I blush again and again as I hear the fame of the State wherever I go, that when they chain a man now at the post they may make the chained unfortunate drink the white man’s defecations.
In the evening of the 21st August, on returning to Mibenga, from a more inland town Bokoko, Mrs. Whitehead and myself saw Mpombo of Bobanga, village of Mbongi, some distance inland. He was in a horrible state. He stated that he had taken ten baskets of rubber to the post, and they wanted one more, so they chained him up to get it. He stated that he had been roughly treated by Mazamba, who had charge of him. In his utter weakness, he had stayed at Libonga (which was a village on the way), to get stronger, for about thirteen days. What must have been his condition when he arrived there I cannot imagine; he was so bad when I saw him at Mibenga. His left wrist appeared to be broken (broken by a log of wood, too heavy for him, slipping from his shoulder), one finger of the right hand was severely bruised, and had developed a large sore (this had been done he said with a stick with which he had been beaten), his back was badly bruised, the left shoulder was much bruised, and had been evidently slit with a knife, the left knee was bruised and feet swollen from being badly beaten, and altogether he was in a very disordered condition.
Later, I met Mabungikindo, a Chief from Bokoko, a large town inland, who was also returning from the chain in which he had been detained to get three more baskets of rubber. Their tax of rubber I understand had been doubled this year, and this was to get three more on the top of that. Poor fellow! How thin his thick-set frame had become! He was wearing his State Chief’s medal. He took it in his hand and asked me to look at it. I cringed with shame. He asked me if we did that sort of thing in our country. I replied we did not. And this he said is how the State treats us: gives us this, and chains up the wearer and beats him. Is that good? Do you wonder, Sir, that the natives hate the State, and that its fame is almost impossible of cleansing in this part? Again and again I had the painful fortune to meet men coming back from imprisonment on account of rubber. The State through its Agents at Lukolela is driving these undisciplined people to desperation and rebellion. There is a rumour set abroad from the State post that the soldiers are coming from Yumbi to fight the inland people because of some words which have been brought back from Bolebe and Bonginda. If we are going to have another war, it will be one which has been engendered by this sort of treatment.
Allow me to trespass on your patience with another story of injustice which can scarcely be equalled by any of these barbarians. At Mibenga the Chiefs on the 14th August had great difficulty in getting their young men to carry down the tax of 500 mitakos’ worth of manioc bread. This was owing to the fact that a youth named Litambala had run away from the post. The carriers usually returned the following day, but it was not till the morning of Sunday, the 16th, that they arrived, and it was found that one of them, named Mpia, had been chained up for Litambala. To deal thus with what is called a market is in the native eyes (and not unjustly so) pure treachery. Why had been Litambala detained? I will explain. Sometime ago a youth named Yamboisele was living on the river side, although a native of Mibenga; he fell ill of small-pox, and I nursed him through it—it was very bad. And it was only with diligent and careful nursing that he was saved from imminent death. After his recovery he did odd jobs about the station and, unfortunately, began to be dishonest. When he was found out he was dismissed. I presumed he would return to his own home, but he engaged himself at the State. After some time he ran away, and although he had engaged himself without his people’s knowledge his Chief, Lisanginya, was sent for, and they chained him up as a hostage for a replace for Yamboisele; after a brief space, the same day, on a promise of sending someone, he was released, and he sent a youth named Bondumbu. Presently Yamboisele turned up at Mibenga, and they took him to the post and asked for the release of Bondumbu. They refused to release Bondumbu, and retained also Yamboisele. Presently Yamboisele (report says) was sent with 2,000 mitakos and 10 demijohns for water to the lower post, some distance down river, and he made off with the lot to the French side. When the carriers came down from Mibenga on the Saturday (this was the 16th May) they chained up Moboma, and he was beaten by the soldiers; I myself saw the weals from the strokes. The rest of the youths pleaded that he should not be tied up, as he did not belong to the same Chief, so they released him and chained up Manzinda. Next week they released him and chained up Mola, who had come down also as a carrier.
After two weeks the white man (the natives say it was M. Gado) sent Mango (a native of the village of Lukolela, not then in the employ of the State) to tie up a man to come and work in place of Mola. Lisanginya, the Chief, was away at time, but the man tied up Litambala and took him to the State, and Mola was set at liberty. Litambala continued a little time, till at length he was given some work to do, which he thought he was not strong enough for, and so ran away. Then in the week following the chaining of Mpia, so much trouble seemed likely to ensue in getting carriers for the manioc bread, and much recrimination of one another in the village, that Mombai, an able-bodied and diligent man, went to the post and gave himself up to free Mpia. But Yamboisele has not been heard of.
I have had several cases brought to my knowledge lately of the mode of slavery adopted at the post. Briefly, it is as follows: a man for some reason (sometimes his own and sometimes not) commences work at the post; he completes his term, and he is told he cannot have his pay unless he engages himself another term or brings another in his place. I knowthose who have left the earnings in the hands of the Chef de Poste rather than begin again. Such compulsion is contrary to civilized law, and is rightly termed slavery, and is utterly illegal. I quote one case in point—a recent one. On the 26th August I noticed a lad, Ngodele, at Mibenga; I noticed he was a lad from the State post, and I inquired why he was not at his work. The information was given that his term was finished, and the white man had sent him to say that when they sent another in his place he would give him his pay. I learnt that Ngodele had been compelled to go by his Chief, because the Chef de Poste had demanded some one to fill the place of another named Mokwala, who had died at the post.
I appeal to you, Sir, that these things may cease from being perpetrated on your subjects, and this defaming of the name of the State.
Accept, &c.(Signed) JOHN WHITEHEAD.
(See p. 33.)
Statement in regard to the Condition of the Natives in Lake Mantumba region during the period of the Rubber Wars which began in 1893.
The disturbance consequent on the attempt to levy a rubber tax in this district, a tax which has since been discontinued, appears to have endured up to 1900.