Chapter XVI: Hunting and Bush-burning

Manner of bush-burning--Witch-doctor makes a hunting-charm--Ceremony is
carefully performed--Blazing bush and rushing animals--Satu arranges
with another chief to burn the bush--Dimbula breaks the law and
insults Satu--War is declared--Old Plaited-Beard being unsuccessful
accuses Bakula of bewitching him--He tries to restore his luck.

As the hunting season was drawing near, Satu and his people decided to engage a _ngang’ a nkongo_, or the “medicine man” of the hunting fetish, to make for them a powerful charm that would endow them with good luck in all kinds of hunting. The time for bush-burning had arrived, when the tall grass in their district would be thoroughly dry by reason of the long drought, and would burn like prepared tinder. It is during the bush fires and the two succeeding months that systematic hunts are organized. It was therefore needful to prepare the charm as quickly as possible.

The first thing that Satu and his people had to do was to burn carefully a belt of grass, a hundred yards wide, right round their town, lest the great, uncontrollable bush fires should come roaring up before the wind, and reducing their dwellings to ashes, destroy also their treasures and savings at the same time. For the purpose of burning this belt a damp morning, heavy with dew, was chosen; then the men and women went with sticks and knives, and cut or pushed down the grass all round the town--when the stems of grass are damp they are very pliable and are easily pressed down and will remain down as they dry in the morning sun.

The bush grass is anything from six feet to fifteen feet high, with stems as thick as a person’s fingers. When they are burning the steam generated in the stems causes them to explode with loud, gun-like reports, and the force of the explosions sends the burning grass hurtling through the air like rockets; hence Satu’s people took care to push down the grass so that the stalks pointed away from the houses.

After pressing down the grass round the town the wind was watched, and when it was favourable the broken-down grass was burnt. The men and lads, armed with branches, controlled and directed the flames; Bakula and the other lads just delighted in this bush-burning season, and looked forward to it with eager anticipation of the sport they would enjoy and the game they would secure. In dreams and talk they killed many an animal long before the first grass was fired.

Satu sent Bakula and two other lads to call the _nganga_, who made the hunting charms. On reaching his town they found him engaged in refreshing and reinvigorating his fetish. He took a large fowl at sunset, and, turning his face towards the setting sun, cut the throat of the fowl and let the running blood fall on the fetish, covering it with the life-blood of the sacrifice. This renewed the strength of the fetish, and, refreshing it, enabled it to impart power to various charms.

He then stood his fetish on the ground and surrounded it with several small heaps of gunpowder--laying a train from one heap to another. When all was ready he exploded the powder, and blew vigorously on his whistle--this aroused the fetish, made it alert and active in performing its work. The _nganga_ had the fowl cooked, and ate the whole of it himself, for to sell it or to share it with another would nullify its effect on the fetish as a sacrifice.

Bakula and his companions stood on one side keenly interested in these ceremonies, for was not their future success in hunting dependent in some way on these mysterious rites? Bakula, however, since his close intercourse with the white man, had begun to doubt the pretended powers of these _ngangas_, so turning to his fellow-messengers he asked: “How can that wooden image, that has to be refreshed with fowl’s blood and aroused with explosions of gunpowder, cause us to shoot straight in our bush lands? And again, how can it make the antelopes and bush pigs come our way, instead of going off in another direction?”

He then told the lads what he had seen in the King’s town respecting the _nganga_ with his charm of feathers, and the iron prong hidden in them. And he concluded by saying: “I begin to think they trick us, take our money and laugh at us.” The lads could not reply to Bakula’s reasoning, but they had no doubt that the _nganga_ possessed powerful “medicines,” and could do anything he liked; and they told Bakula in a friendly way not to let Old Plaited-Beard hear him talk in this manner, or he would quickly accuse him of witchcraft.

Early next morning they returned with the “medicine man” to their town; and immediately on arrival the _nganga_ set to work to make the necessary charms. It was a busy time with him, and he would not have come so promptly, but Satu was a great noble and could pay well. The _nganga_ procured some red camwood powder, some leaves of the _lupemba-mpemba_-tree, some young spikes of new _nianga_ grass, some parrot feathers, cowry shells, wood ashes, a fore-leg of a bat, some small shot, and some native _peppers_. These he thoroughly cut up and well mixed, and each hunter filled his small horn with the mixture, and sealed the opening with a little rubber. He then received his fee and went.

The hunters being now in possession of their charms, went to visit the grave of a renowned hunter who had died some years previously. It was the custom that when a great hunter was dying he should draw a thread from his _mbadi_[58] cloth, and tie it round the forehead or arms of a young man chosen for the purpose. This person then became the _Kimpovela_, or the one who speaks on behalf of others, _i. e._ an advocate; and this advocate was not allowed to marry more than one wife, and he must never beat her or he would lose his power as an advocate. Only the man thus selected by the dying hunter could perform the ceremonies at this grave. When the great hunter died, his hair was cut off and buried beneath a large stone near his place of burial, that the natives of the district might always know where the grave was situated.

Satu and his party took with them a calabash of palm-wine and, calling the _Kimpovela_, passed on to the grave of the renowned hunter. The

Footnote 58:

Cloth made from pine-apple or palm fibre.

advocate went first and kneeled with his back to the grave and his face towards the hunters, who approached him slowly, stopping every few steps to clap their hands. When they reached the kneeling man they spread out and sat round the grave, putting the wine and their guns on the ground near by. The _Kimpovela_ then turned towards the grave, and shaking his rattle repeatedly, he thus prayed to the deceased hunter: “You are blind, but your ears are not deaf. Oh, ears, hear well! we have come to you, we come kneeling. When you lived in the town you ate and you drank, now we who are left die of hunger; give us male and female animals.” When this prayer was finished a man put the calabash of wine on his shoulder, and the _Kimpovela_, making the sign of the cross,[59] took a cup of the wine and poured it as an offering on the grave of the great hunter. The rest of the wine was drunk by the hunters sitting around the grave.

Footnote 59:

See note 47, p. 356.

After drinking the wine the _Kimpovela_ rubbed a little of the earth wet with the oblatory wine on the forehead, temples, fore-arms, wrists, knees and insteps of each hunter; then he took each gun and drew his fingers up the butt, and reaching the barrel he snapped his fingers and handed the gun to its owner, who on taking it clapped his hands, sprang in the air, and holding the gun in front of him walked backwards a little way, facing the grave, and sat down to wait for the others. When all had finished they fired a salute and sang a song in praise of the great hunter to the rubbing, grating noise of the antelope drum. More palm-wine was drunk, and I am sure that by the time they had exhausted their wine, if they had seen an antelope not one of them was sober enough to have fired straight at it.

After these ceremonies were concluded whenever Satu and his people went hunting they either took their horns of medicine with them, each carrying his own under his belt, or they wetted the rubber stopper and rubbed the butt of their guns with a little of the moisture. This gave them accuracy of aim, or they thought so. By burning the belt of grass round their town they had secured their houses against fire, and by their charms and the visit to the grave of the renowned hunter they had ensured their future success as sportsmen; they were now consequently able to turn their attention to those parts of the bush where animals--antelopes, wild pigs and gazelles--were likely to be found.

A breezy day was chosen, and the hunters, taking their places along the portion of bush to be burned, fired the grass as soon as the night dews were dried off. Animals browsing were startled by the roar of flames, rushed bewildered before the oncoming fire, and as they ran past were shot at by the waiting hunters. While the fire was burning hawks and fish-eagles circled above the burning bush, not “to drink in the smoke,” as the natives say, but in search of any hapless rats and snakes cut off from escape by the raging fire. These birds could be seen swooping down and carrying off to their lairs such reptiles and rats as their keen, hungry eyes detected.

These bush fires have taken place annually for generations, and undoubtedly account for the scarcity of wild game on the Lower Congo, the absence of large reptiles, the shabby appearance of the trees on the open veldt--they scarcely recover from one scorching before the dries are on them and another scorching is due--and the luxuriant grass, for the burnt remains of one crop enrich the soil to bear another as stalwart as the first.

During this season it is very weird to see, night after night, great bush fires blazing in different directions. The sky is aglow with them, and you smell and breathe a smoky atmosphere for days. Bits of charred grass are carried by the winds in all directions, and the country looks dressed in black as though it were mourning with a great sorrow, and the sun, as though in sympathy with the earth, hides for days behind the clouds of ascended smoke.

During the hunts men are often wounded, and sometimes killed, by being mistaken for animals as they push through the rustling grass. Then follow recriminations, charges of intent to murder, and long law-suits that ruin the unfortunate family of the man who did not stop to look before he fired his gun. Sometimes, when a line of men is crawling through the grass tracking an animal, the trigger of a gun will catch in the stalks, the gun will explode, there will be a scream of a man in the agony of death, and the scared owner of the gun will be charged with murder, for there are no accidents in native law.

The culprit will be fortunate if the deceased is a member of a poor family, or a slave, for then he will get off with a heavy fine; but if the dead man is a person of importance his life will be forfeited, or he will be sold far away into slavery. He will be lucky if he is not shipped to St. Thomé or to Principe to work on the plantations.

During the bush-burning Satu and his men killed only three wild pigs and four gazelles; but they had a very serious quarrel with a neighbouring chief that developed into a war after the hunting season was over.

A part of Satu’s land ran by the side of ground belonging to a neighbouring chief named Dimbula; and according to custom Satu sent to Dimbula asking what day would be convenient for burning that part of the bush where their properties joined each other. After much palavering the day was fixed; but when Satu and his hunters reached the spot they found none of Dimbula’s people there.

It was against the law of custom for either party to fire the grass before the arrival of the other side; consequently Satu and his men sat waiting all through the long morning, and about noon they decided to return home--vexed with having wasted a whole morning. They had not gone very far when they heard shouts, and looking round saw the bush blazing. On hurrying back to the place they had so recently left, they found Dimbula and his men there.

Satu said: “We arrived here early this morning according to agreement, and we waited until midday, but as you and your people did not come, we did not burn the grass, and were just returning home intending to make a new appointment with you. Why have you broken the custom by firing the grass in our absence?”

“You think that because you are _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_ that you can do and say what you like,” replied Dimbula, with ill-suppressed anger and bad logic.

“No,” retorted Satu, “that is not so, or I would have lighted the bush early this morning, and not have sat here half the day waiting for you.”

“Let me tell you,” shouted Dimbula, “that my family had the title when your family was too poor to assume it, and was glad to sell the use of it.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Satu, “but that is no reason why you should burn the grass by yourself when you know my land runs by the side of yours.”

“You think that because you drove a white man out of your town and retained my runaway slave, that you can lord it over us,” said Dimbula, who by now was choking with unreasonable rage. In fact, we heard afterwards that Dimbula had planned the whole affair as an insult to Satu, of whom he was jealous, both as a rich man and as a noble of rank; and he also felt hurt because Satu had kept the “goat” that ran to him for protection.

Satu put down his gun, and with calmness and dignity went up to Dimbula and said: “I drove the white man away because I did not know him, and I accepted your slave according to native custom; but they are no excuses for insulting me. Listen, I swear by my mother,[60] that if you do not apologize and pay homage to me by the end of the hunting season I will fight you”; and turning his back on Dimbula he picked up his gun and walked away.

Footnote 60:

See note 48, p. 356.

Just as Satu’s party reached the brow of the next hill, Dimbula sprang forward and shouted in contemptuous and boastful derision: “O mighty chief Satu, can I lend you twenty kegs of powder for the coming fight?”

The town was all excitement when they heard of the insults that had been heaped on their chief, and many of the more fiery ones wished to begin the fight at once; but Satu would not give his consent, and told them to wait until the hunting was finished.

A few weeks after the fires were over a fine grass covered the hill-sides and plateaus with such delicious fresh verdure that the antelopes and gazelles were enticed from the forests where they had fled from the devouring flames, to browse on it, and so delighted were they with the new sweet crop that they forgot all dangers, and were easily surrounded by hunters and shot down.

In these hunts native dogs were used, and a “medicine man” was usually called to endow them with good tracking powers. The _nganga_ took some chalk, some different leaves and the head of a viper. These he mixed thoroughly together and made into a bundle. He then took a small portion of the bundle and put it in a funnel-twisted leaf, caught a wasp and pressed its juice into the funnel, put in a little palm-wine, and squeezed the juice of this mixture into each dog’s nose. They then became good trackers and hunters. The chalk gave them wisdom, the leaves gave good health, the portion of viper imparted stealthiness, and just as a wasp makes straight for its nest, so the dogs would make straight for the game.

Some of Satu’s people went one day with their dogs to hunt, and had been gone most of the day when an antelope was seen by Bakula on the side of a distant hill. They instantly spread, worked to leeward and gradually bore down on the unsuspecting creature. The nearest man fired[61] and the poor animal fell mortally wounded. Directly it fell some grass was cut and spread out, and the antelope was laid on it.

Footnote 61:

See note 49, p. 357.

The hunter who killed it put the butt of his gun to his shoulder and the muzzle on the carcass. A cross cut was made on the stomach, and the hunter put his fingers three times to the cut and to his upper lip, then again three times to the cut, and rubbed his fingers each time on his gun. The antelope was then removed, and the hunter put the muzzle of his gun under the grass and turned it over. The animal could not be cut up until this ceremony was performed, or the hunter would have lost his “hunting skill,” and, besides, it established beyond a doubt the ownership of the antelope.

The flesh of the animals killed in the hunts is always divided, according to certain well-recognized rules: the kidneys and strips of meat from the back were sent to Satu as chief of the town; one hind-leg was given to the men who were left in the town, and they shared it with their wives; one fore-quarter was given to the hunters, the heart was given to the father of the successful hunter, certain portions were sent to his mother and aunt, and the rest belonged to the man who killed it.

When the antelope was being divided, the bladder was emptied and filled with blood, and in a day or two it was carried to the _Kimpovela_, or advocate, in charge of the renowned hunter’s grave. The _Kimpovela_ brought from his house a small wooden cross and fixed it in the grave. He then put the successful bullet in the prepared hole in the cross and poured the blood over the cross and the grave as an offering, saying as he did so: “We thank you for sending us such a fine animal, and hope you will repeat the favour.” Only the blood of antelopes is given in this way. Some of the blood was rubbed on their fetish charms, and the end of the antelope’s tail was stuck in the wall over the doorway of the successful hunter.

During the hunting season Old Plaited-Beard was unsuccessful in his hunting--not a single animal fell to his gun, although he had several fine opportunities. He was exasperated at his failure, and looked around for the reason why his charms were ineffective. He now recalled to mind what the boys who accompanied Bakula told him on their return about their companion’s disparaging remarks concerning the “medicine man,” his fetish, and his trickery. He also remembered his admiration for the white man, and the attempts he made to bring about a meeting between them. Putting all these things together, he came to the conclusion that Bakula had bewitched him and his charms, and that consequently he was unable to kill any game.

Old Plaited-Beard sent for Bakula and accused him of destroying the power in his charms; and when the lad strenuously denied the accusation, he told him what he had sneeringly said in the _nganga’s_ town about “medicine men” and their tricks; of his companionship with the white man in the King’s town; and how he who used to wear so many charms had thrown nearly all of them away. It seemed a very black indictment.

Bakula admitted that he had lost faith in _ngangas_, and told with dramatic force of the _nganga’s_ exposed trickery in the King’s town; he did not deny his liking for the white man, for had he not shown kindness to him in forgiving him and healing his wound? He assented to the charge of throwing his charms away, for he could not see that the messes the witch-doctors put into horns and shells could help them in sickness, hunting, trading, or anything else.

“Besides,” he said, "if I had power to affect the charms made by the ‘medicine man’ for the town, how is it our people have killed pigs, gazelles and an antelope?"

“You let them shoot the animals, and took the spirit from my charms, so that I could not kill any,” unreasonably argued the superstitious old man.

“I am sorry no game fell to your gun,” soothingly replied the lad, “but it was through no fault of mine.”

Old Plaited-Beard looked at the apologetic lad suspiciously, and he thought that his very conciliatory attitude was a sign of his guilt. He would have understood him better if the spirited boy had burst into loud, angry abuse, recriminations and counter-charges. However, he only said: "Don’t do it again. Leave my charms alone and do not laugh at ‘medicine men’ and their fetishes, for you have put me to the expense of engaging a _nganga_ to renew the power in my hunting charm."

Old Plaited-Beard went next day to the _nganga nkongo_, who made three plaits of nine pieces of grass in each plait. He then asked for a piece of the last bird or animal his client had killed. The old man took from his shoulder-bag the tail of a gazelle that he had brought for the purpose and handed it over to the “medicine man.”

A hunter always saves a feather or a claw of the last bird he killed, or the tail or hoof of the last animal he shot, and that is why all these odds and ends are stuck in the front walls of the houses. At any time he may repeatedly miss, and may require a piece of the last thing he killed to restore his luck. The _nganga_ took the gazelle’s tail from Old Plaited-Beard and put it on the ground; he then made three little heaps of loose gunpowder round it, and chalked a cross near the powder, and on the butt of the hunter’s gun. The _nganga_ exploded the powder; a little gunpowder was then put in the gun, and the hunter, standing a few feet away, fired at the gazelle’s tail, and blew it from the spot on which it was resting, thus proving that his hunting skill had returned to him. If the tail had not been blown out of its position the “medicine man” would have repeated his ceremonies.

After the old man had knocked the tail away, the _nganga_ took the gun from him, and put his finger in the dirt where the tail had been, and rubbed a little of the earth three times on the hunter’s upper lip; the fourth time he put his fingers on the butt of the gun, and ran them up the barrel and snapped them in the air. He then loosened the plaits, and shook the grass about the gun. Old Plaited-Beard stepped forward, solemnly clapped his hands, took his gun, sprang into the air, and returned home satisfied that in future he would be more successful. He had never been a good shot, and this season he failed utterly, and put all the blame on Bakula, on whom he determined to avenge himself on the first good opportunity.