The Casement Report on the Congo

No. 3 Mr. Casement to the Marquess of Lansdowne — (Received December 12.)

My Lord,

London, December 11, 1903.

I have the honour to submit my Report on my recent journey on the Upper Congo.

I left Matadi on the 5th June, and arriving at Léopoldville on the 6th, remained in the neighbourhood of Stanley Pool until the 2nd July, when I set out for the Upper Congo. My return to Léopoldville was on the 15th September, so that the period spent in the Upper River was one of only two and a-half months, during which time I visited several points on the Congo River itself, up to the junction of the Lulongo River, ascended that river and its principal feeder, the Lopori, as far as Bongandanga, and went round Lake Mantumba.

Although my visit was of such brief duration, and the points touched at nowhere lay far off the beaten tracks of communication, the region visited was one of the most central in the Congo State, and the district in which most of my time was spent, that of the Equator, is probably one of the most productive. Moreover, I was enabled, by visiting this district, to contrast its present day state with the condition in which I had known it some sixteen years ago. Then (in 1887) I had visited most of the places I now revisited, and I was thus able to institute a comparison between a state of affairs I had myself seen when the natives lived their own savage lives in anarchic and disorderly communities, uncontrolled by Europeans, and that created by more than a decade of very energetic European intervention. That very much of this intervention has been called for no one who formerly knew the Upper Congo could doubt, and there are to-day widespread proofs of the great energy displayed by Belgian officials in introducing their methods of rule over one of the most savage regions of Africa.

Admirably built and admirably kept stations greet the traveller at many points; a fleet of river steamers, numbering, I believe, forty-eight, the property of the Congo Government, navigate the main river and its principal affluents at fixed intervals. Regular means of communication are thus afforded to some of the most inaccessible parts of Central Africa.

A railway, excellently constructed in view of the difficulties to be encountered, now connects the ocean ports with Stanley Pool, over a tract of difficult country, which formerly offered to the weary traveller on foot many obstacles to be overcome and many days of great bodily fatigue. To-day the railway works most efficiently, and I noticed many improvements, both in the permanent way and in the general management, since the date of my last visit to Stanley Pool in January 1901. The cataract region, through which the railway passes, is a generally unproductive and even sterile tract of some 220 miles in breadth. This region is, I believe, the home, or birthplace, of the sleeping sickness—a terrible disease, which is, all too rapidly, eating its way into the heart of Africa, and has even traversed the entire continent to well-nigh the shores of the Indian Ocean. The population of the Lower Congo has been gradually reduced by the unchecked ravages of this, as yet, undiagnosed and incurable disease, and as one cause of the seemingly wholesale diminution of human life which I everywhere observed in the regions revisited, a prominent place must be assigned to this malady. The natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to this as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and I think principally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well. Perhaps the most striking change observed during my journey into the interior was the great reduction observable everywhere in native life. Communities I had formerly known as large and flourishing centres of population are to-day entirely gone, or now exist in such diminished numbers as to be no longer recognizable. The southern shores of Stanley Pool had formerly a population of fully 5,000 Batekes, distributed through the three towns of Ngaliema’s (Léopoldville), Kinchasa, and Ndolo, lying within a few miles of each other. These people, some twelve years ago, decided to abandon their homes, and in one night the great majority of them crossed over into the French territory on the north shores of Stanley Pool. Where formerly had stretched these populous native African villages, I saw to-day only a few scattered European houses, belonging either to Government officials or local traders. In Léopoldville to-day there are not, I should estimate, 100 of the original natives or their descendants now residing. At Kinchasa a few more may be found dwelling around one of the European trading depôts, while at Ndolo none remain, and there is nothing there but a station of the Congo Railway Company and a Government post. These Bateke people were not, perhaps, particularly desirable subjects for an energetic Administration, which desired, above all things, progress and speedy results. They were themselves interlopers from the northern shores of the Congo River, and derived a very profitable existence as trading middlemen, exploiting the less sophisticated population among whom they had established themselves. Their loss to the southern shores of Stanley Pool is none the less to be deplored, I think, for they formed, at any rate, a connecting link between an incoming European commercial element and the background of would-be native suppliers.

Léopoldville is sometimes spoken of as a Congo town, but it cannot rightly be so termed. Apart from the Government station, which, in most respects, is very well planned, there is nothing at all resembling a town—barrack would be the correct term. The Government station of Léopoldville numbers, I was informed by its Chief, some 130 Europeans, and probably 3,000 native Government workmen, who all dwell in well ordered lines of either very well-built European houses, or, for the native staff, mud-built huts. Broad paths, which may be termed streets, connect the various parts of this Government Settlement, and an elementary effort at lighting by electricity has already evolved three lights in front of the house of the Commissaire-Général. Outside the Government staff, the general community, or public of Léopoldville, numbers less than one dozen Europeans, and possibly not more than 200 native dependents of their households or trading stores. This general public consists of two missionary establishments, numbering in all 4 Europeans; a railway station with, I think, 1 European; 4 trading establishments—1 Portuguese, 1 Belgian, 1 English, and 1 German—numbering 7 Europeans, with, perhaps, 80 or 100 native dependents; 2 British West African petty traders, and a couple of Loango tailor boys, who make clothes for the general community. This, I think, comprises almost all those not immediately dependent upon the Government.

These shops and traders do scarcely any business in native produce, of which there may be said to be none in the district, but rely upon a cash trade in Congolese currency, carried on with the large staff of Government employés, both European and native. Were this cash dealing to cease, the four European shops would be forced to put up their shutters. During the period of my stay at Léopoldville it did actually cease, and, for reasons which were not known publicly, the large native staff of Congo Government workmen, instead of receiving a part of their monthly wages in cash to spend locally—as also those being paid off on the expiry of their contracts—were remunerated by the Government in barter goods, which were issued from a Government store. This method of payment did not satisfy either the native Government employés or the local traders, and I heard many complaints on this score. The traders complained, some of them to myself, that as they had no other form of trading open to them, save this with the Government staff against cash, for the Government to itself now pay these men in goods was to end, at a blow, all trade dealings in the district. The native workmen complained, too, that they were paid in cloth which often they did not want in their own homes, and in order to have the wherewithal to purchase what they wanted, a practice at once arose amongst these men to sell for cash, at a loss to themselves, the cloth they had been forced to receive in payment from the Government store. The workmen lost on this transaction, and so did the traders. Pieces of cloth which were charged by the Government at 10 fr. each in paying off the workmen, these men would readily part with for 7 fr., and even for 6 fr. in cash. I myself, one day in June, bought for 7 fr. a-piece, from two just-discharged Government workmen, two pieces of cloth which had been charged against them at 10 fr. each. These men wished to buy salt at one of the local stores, and to obtain the means of doing so, they readily sacrificed 3 fr. in each 10 fr. of their pay. The traders, too, complained that by this extensive sale of cotton goods at reduced rates by the Government employés, their own sales of cloth at current prices were rendered well-nigh impossible throughout the district.

The 3,000 Government workpeople at Léopoldville are drawn from nearly every part of the Congo State. Some, those from the cataract district especially, go voluntarily seeking employment, but many—and I believe a vast majority—are men, or lads, brought from districts of the Upper Congo, and who serve the authorities not primarily at their own seeking. On the 16th June last, five Government workpeople brought me their contracts of engagement with a request that I might tell them how long a period they still had to serve. They were all Upper Congo men, and had already nearly completed the full term of their engagement. The contracts, in each case, appeared as having been signed and drawn up at Boma on behalf of the Governor-General of the Congo State, and were, in each case, for a term of seven years. The men informed me that they had never been to Boma, and that the whole of their period of service had been spent either at Léopoldville or on the Upper Congo. In three of these cases I observed that an alteration had been made in the period of service, in the following terms:—

“Je réduis de sept à cinq ans le terme de service du....”

This entry was signed by the acting State Inspector of the district. It seemingly had not been observed, for it was struck out by his successor, and, as a matter of fact, the full period of seven years was, in each case, within a few months of completion.

On the whole the Government workmen at Léopoldville struck me as being well cared for, and they were certainly none of them idle. The chief difficulty in dealing with so large a staff arises from the want of a sufficiency of food supply in the surrounding country. The staple food of the entire Upper Congo is a preparation of the root of the cassava plant, steeped and boiled, and made up into loaves or puddings of varying weight. The natives of the districts around Léopoldville are forced to provide a fixed quantity each week of this form of food, which is levied by requisitions on all the surrounding villages. The European Government staff is also mainly dependent upon food supplies obtained from the natives of the neighbourhood in a similar manner. This, however necessary, is not a welcome task to the native suppliers who complain that their numbers are yearly decreasing, while the demands made upon them remain fixed, or tend even to increase.

The Government station at Léopoldville and its extensive staff, exist almost solely in connection with the running of Government steamers upon the Upper Congo.

A hospital for Europeans and an establishment designed as a native hospital are in charge of a European doctor. Another doctor also resides in the Government station whose bacteriological studies are unremitting and worthy of much praise. The native hospital—not, I am given to understand, through the fault of the local medical staff—is, however, an unseemly place. When I visited the three mud huts which serve this purpose, all of them dilapidated, and two with the thatched roofs almost gone, I found seventeen sleeping sickness patients, male and female, lying about in the utmost dirt. Most of them were lying on the bare ground—several out on the pathway in front of the houses, and one, a woman, had fallen into the fire just prior to my arrival (while in the final, insensible stage of the disease), and had burned herself very badly. She had since been well bandaged, but was still lying out on the ground with her head almost in the fire, and while I sought to speak to her, in turning, she upset a pot of scalding water over her shoulder. All of the seventeen persons I saw were near their end, and on my second visit, two days later, the 19th June, I found one of them lying dead out in the open.

In somewhat striking contrast to the neglected state of these people, I found, within a couple of hundred yards of them, the Government workshop for repairing and fitting the steamers. Here all was brightness, care, order, and activity, and it was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created and maintained in constant working order this useful establishment. In conjunction with a local missionary, some effort was made during my stay at Léopoldville, to obtain an amelioration of the condition of the sleeping-sickness people in the native hospital, but it was stated, in answer to my friend’s representations, that nothing could be done in the way of building a proper hospital until plans now under consideration had been matured elsewhere. The structures I had visited, which the local medical staff greatly deplored, had endured for several years as the only form of hospital accommodation provided for the numerous native staff of the district.

The Government stores at Léopoldville are large and well built, and contain not only the goods the Government itself sends up river in its fleet of steamers, but also the goods of the various Concession Companies. As a rule, the produce brought down river by the Government steamers is transhipped direct into the railway trucks which run alongside the wharf, and is carried thence by train to Matadi for shipment to Europe. The various Companies carrying on operations on the Upper Congo, and who hold Concessions from the Congo Government, are bound, I was told, by Conventions to abstain from carrying, save within the limits of their Concessions, either goods or passengers. This interdiction extends to their own merchandise and to their own agents. Should they carry, by reason of imperative need, outside these limits any of their own goods or their own people, they are bound to pay to the Congo Government either the freight or passage money according to the Government tariff, just as though the goods or passengers had been conveyed on one of the Government vessels. The tariff upon goods and passengers carried along the interior waterways is a fairly high one, not perhaps excessive under the circumstances, but still one that, by reason of this virtual monopoly, can produce a yearly revenue which must go far towards maintaining the Government flotilla. By the estimates for 1902, published in the “Bulletin Officiel” of January this year, the transport service is credited with a production of 3,100,000 fr. of public revenue for 1902, while the expenditure for the same year is put at 2,023,376 fr. That this restriction of public conveyance to Government vessels alone is not altogether a public gain my own experience demonstrated. I had wished to leave Stanley Pool for the Upper Congo at an early date after my arrival in Léopoldville, but as the Government vessels were mostly crowded, I could not proceed with any comfort by one of these. The steam-ship “Flandre,” one of the largest of these vessels, which left Léopoldville for Stanley Falls on the 22nd June, and by which I had, at first, intended to proceed, quitted port with more than twenty European passengers over her complement, all of whom, I was informed, would have to sleep on deck. I accordingly was forced to seek other means of travelling, and through the kindness of the Director of one of the large commercial Companies (the “Société Anonyme Belge du Haut-Congo”) I found excellent accommodation, as a guest, on one of his steamers. Although thus an invited guest and not paying any passage money, special permission had to be sought from the Congo Government before this act of courtesy could be shown me, and I saw the telegram from the local authority, authorizing my conveyance to Chumbiri.

This commercial Company has three other steamers, but the interdiction referred to applies to the entire flotilla of trading vessels of Congolese nationality on the Upper River. Despite the fact that these vessels are not allowed to earn freight or passage, they are all, for their tonnage, heavily taxed, while the Government vessels, which earn considerable sums on transport of general goods and passengers, pay no taxes. The four vessels of the Société Anonyme Belge du Haut-Congo referred to, of which the largest is only, I believe, one of 30 tons, pay annually, I was informed, the following taxes:—

Fr.
For permission to cut firewood 17,870
Licence for each steamer, according to her tonnage 400 to 600
The master of each vessel must be licensed, for which
a tax of 20 fr. per annum is levied.

Himself and each European member of the crew must then pay 30 fr. per annum as “imposition personnelle,” whilst each native member of the crew costs his employers 3 fr. per head for engagement licence annually, and 10 fr. per head per annum as “imposition personnelle.”

The “President Urban,” the largest steamer of the Company referred to, under these various heads pays, I was informed, a sum of not less than 11,000 fr. in taxes per annum. Should she carry any of the agents of the Company owning her, or any of its goods, save within the restricted area of its Concession, her owners must pay to the Congo Government both passage money and freight on these, just as though they had been sent by one of the Government vessels.

No firewood may be cut by the public within half-an-hour’s steaming distance of any of the Government wooding posts, which are naturally chosen at the best wooding sites available along the various waterways, so that the 10,000 fr. wood-cutting licence which the “President Urban” pays entitles her only to cut up for fuel such suitable timber as her crew may be able to find in the less accessible spots.

At F* I spent four days. I had visited this place in August 1887 when the line of villages comprising the settlement contained from 4,000 to 5,000 people. Most of these villages to-day are entirely deserted, the forest having grown over the abandoned sites, and the entire community at the present date cannot number more than 500 souls. There is no Government station at F*, but the Government telegraph line which connects Léopoldville with Coquilhatville, the headquarters of the Equator district, runs through the once townlands of the F* villages close to the river bank. The people of the riverside towns, and from 20 miles inland, have to keep the line clear of undergrowth, and in many places the telegraph road serves as a useful public path between neighbouring villages. Some of the natives of the neighbourhood complained that for this compulsory utilitarian service they had received no remuneration of any kind; and those at a distance that they found it hard to feed themselves when far from their homes they were engaged on this task. Inquiry in the neighbourhood established that no payment for this work had seemingly been made for fully a year.

Men are also required to work at the neighbouring wood-cutting post for the Government steamers, which is in charge of a native Headman or Kapita, who is under the surveillance of a European “Chef de Poste” at Bolobo, the nearest Government station, which lies about 40 miles up-stream. These wood-cutters, although required compulsorily to serve and sometimes irregularly detained, are adequately paid for their services.

The F* villages have to supply kwanga (the prepared cassava root already referred to) for the neighbouring wood-cutting post, and the quantity required of them is, they asserted, in excess of their means of supply and out of proportion to the value received in exchange. The supply required of them was fixed, I found, at 380 kwanga (or boiled cassava puddings) every six days, each pudding weighing from 4-1/2 lb. to 6 lb., or a total of from 1,700 lb. to 1 ton weight of carefully prepared food-stuffs per week. For this a payment of one brass rod per kwanga is made, giving a sum of 19 fr. in all for the several villages whose task it is to keep the wood post victualled. These villages by careful computation I reckoned contained 240 persons all told—men, women, and children. In addition to preparing and carrying this food a considerable distance to the Government post, these people have to take their share in keeping the telegraph line clear and in supplying Government workmen. One elderly man was arrested at the period of my visit to serve as a soldier and was taken to Bolobo, 40 miles away, but was subsequently released upon representations made by a missionary who knew him. The number of wood-cutters at the local post is about thirty I was informed, so that the amount of food levied is beyond their requirements, and the excess is said to be sold by them at a profit to the crews of passing steamers. At one of the smallest of these F* villages, where there are not more than ten persons all told, and only three of these women able to prepare and cook the food, 40 kwanga (180 lb. to 270 lb. weight of food) had to be supplied every week at a payment of 40 rods (2 fr.). These people said: “How can we possibly plant and weed our gardens, seek and prepare and boil the cassava, make it into portable shape, and then carry it nearly a day’s journey to the post? Moreover, if the kwanga we make are a little small or not well-cooked, or if we complain that the rods given us in settlement are too short, as they sometimes are, then we are beaten by the wood-cutters, and sometimes we are detained several days to cut firewood as a punishment.”

Statements of this kind might be tediously multiplied.

The local mission station at F* requires much smaller kwanga than the Government size, getting from 1-1/2 lb. to 2 lb. weight of food at the same price—viz., 1 rod. The kwanga made up for general consumption, as sold in local markets, weigh only about 1 lb. each. The Government requires, delivered free, even at considerable distances, from four and a-half to six times the weight of prepared food to that sold publicly for 1/2d.

In most parts of the Upper Congo the recognized currency consists of lengths of brass wire; these lengths varying according to the district. At one period the recognized length of a brass rod was 18 inches, but to-day the average length of a rod cannot be more than 8 or 9 inches. The nominal value of one of these rods is 1/2d., twenty of them being reckoned to the franc; but the intrinsic value, or actual cost of a rod to any importer of the brass wire direct from Europe, would come to less than a 1/4d., I should say. Such as it is, clumsy and dirty, this is the principal form of currency known on the Upper Congo where, saving some parts of the French Congo I visited, European money is still quite unknown.

The reasons for the decrease of population at F* given me, both by the natives and by others, point to sleeping sickness as probably one of the principal factors. There has also been emigration to the opposite side of the river, to the French shore, but this course has never, I gather, been popular. The people have not easily accommodated themselves to the altered condition of life brought about by European Government in their midst. Where formerly they were accustomed to take long voyages down to Stanley Pool to sell slaves, ivory, dried fish, or other local products against such European merchandise as the Bateke middlemen around the Pool had to offer in exchange, they find themselves to-day debarred from all such form of activity.

The open selling of slaves and the canoe convoys, which once navigated the Upper Congo, have everywhere disappeared. No act of the Congo State Government has perhaps produced more laudable results than the vigorous suppression of this widespread evil. In the 160 miles’ journey from Léopoldville to F* I did not see one large native canoe in mid-stream, and only a few small canoes creeping along the shore near to native villages. While the suppression of an open form of slave dealing has been an undoubted gain, much that was not reprehensible in native life has disappeared along with it. The trade in ivory has to-day entirely passed from the hands of the natives of the Upper Congo, and neither fish nor any other outcome of local industry now changes hands on an extensive scale or at any distance from home.

So far as I could observe in the limited time at my disposal, the people of F* now rarely leave their homes save when required by the local Government official at Bolobo to serve as soldiers, or woodcutters at one of the Government posts, or to convey the weekly supplies of food required of them to the nearest Government station. These demands for food-stuffs comprise fowls and goats for consumption by the European members of the Government staff at Léopoldville, or for passengers on the Government steamers. They emanate from the Chief of the post at Bolobo who, I understand, is required in so far as he can, to keep up this supply. In order to obtain this provision he is forced to exercise continuous pressure on the local population, and within recent times that pressure has not always taken the form of mere requisition. Armed expeditions have been necessary and a more forcible method of levying supplies adopted than the law either contemplated or justifies. Very specific statements as to the harm one of these recent expeditions worked in the country around F* were made to me during my stay there. The officer in command of the G* district, at the head of a band of soldiers passed through a portion of the district wherein the natives, unaccustomed to the duties expected of them, had been backward in sending in both goats and fowls.

The result of this expedition, which took place towards the end of 1900, was that in fourteen small villages traversed seventeen persons disappeared. Sixteen of these whose names were given to me were killed by the soldiers, and their bodies recovered by their friends, and one was reported as missing. Of those killed eleven were men, three women, and one a boy child of 5 years. Ten persons were tied up and taken away as prisoners, but were released on payment of sixteen goats by their friends, except one, a child, who died at Bolobo. In addition 48 goats were taken away and 225 fowls; several houses were burned, and a quantity of their owners’ property either pillaged or destroyed. Representations on behalf of the injured villages were made to the Inspecteur d’État at Léopoldville, who greatly deplored the excesses of his subordinate, and sent to hold an inquiry and to pay compensation to the relatives of those killed and for the live-stock or goods destroyed or taken away. The local estimate of the damage done amounted to 71,730 brass rods (3,586 fr.), which included 20,500 brass rods (1,025 fr.), assessed as compensation for the seventeen people. Three of these were Chiefs, and the amount asked for would have worked out at about 1,000 brass rods (50 fr.) per head, not probably an extravagant estimate for human life, seeing that the goats were valued at 400 rods each (20 fr.). A total sum, I was told, of 18,000 brass rods (950 fr.) was actually paid to the injured villages by the Government Commissioner, who came from Stanley Pool; and this sum, it was said, was levied as a fine for his misconduct on the official responsible for the raid. I could not learn what other form of punishment, if any, was inflicted on this officer. He remained as the Government Representative for some time afterwards, was then transferred to another post in the immediate neighbourhood, and finally went home at the expiration of his period of service.

At Bolobo, where I spent ten days waiting for a steamer to continue my journey, a somewhat similar state of affairs prevails to that existing at F*. Bolobo used to be one of the most important native Settlements along the south bank of the Upper Congo, and the population in the early days of civilized rule numbered fully 40,000 people, chiefly of the Bobangi tribe. To-day the population is believed to be not more than 7,000 or 8,000 souls. The Bolobo men were famous in former days for their voyages to Stanley Pool and their keen trading ability. All of their large canoes have to-day disappeared, and while some of them still hunt hippopotami—which are still numerous in the adjacent waters—I did not observe anything like industry among them.

Indeed, it would be hard to say how the people now live or how they occupy their own time. They did not complain so much of the weekly enforced food supplies required of them, which would, indeed, seem to be an unavoidable necessity of the situation, as to the unexpected calls frequently made upon them. Neither rubber nor ivory is obtained in this neighbourhood. The food supply and a certain amount of local labour is all that is enforced. As woodcutters, station hands in the Government post, canoe paddlers, workers on the telegraph route or in some other public capacity, they are liable to frequent requisition.

The labour required did not seem to be excessive, but it would seem to be irregularly called for, unequally distributed, and only poorly remunerated, or sometimes not remunerated at all.

Complaints as to the manner of exacting service are much more frequent than complaints as to the fact of service being required. If the local official has to go on a sudden journey men are summoned on the instant to paddle his canoe, and a refusal entails imprisonment or a beating. If the Government plantation or the kitchen garden require weeding, a soldier will be sent to call in the women from some of the neighbouring towns. To the official this is a necessary public duty which he cannot but impose, but to the women suddenly forced to leave their household tasks and to tramp off, hoe in hand, baby on back, with possibly a hungry and angry husband at home, the task is not a welcome one.

One of the weightier tasks imposed upon the neighbourhood during my stay at Bolobo was the construction of a wooden pier at the Government beach whereat Government vessels might come alongside.

I visited this incompleted structure several times, and estimated that from 1,500 to 2,000 trees and saplings had already been used in its partial construction. All of these were cut down and carried in by the men of some of the neighbouring towns, and for this compulsory service no remuneration had, up to that date, I was on all sides informed, been made to any one of them. They were ordered, they said, to do it as a public duty. The timber needed had to be sought at a considerable distance, most of the trees had been carried some miles, and the task was not altogether an agreeable one. The chief complaint I heard directed against this work, however, was that the pier was being so badly put up that when finished it would be quite useless, and all their work would thus be thrown away. My own opinion of the structure was that this criticism was well founded, and that the first annual rise of the river would sweep most of the ill-laid timbers away.

The Bolobo people do not object so much to the regular food tax, just because this is regular, and they can prepare and regularly meet it, as to the sudden and unexpected labour tasks, such as canoe journeys, or this more onerous pier building. They could, I perceived, trace no connection between this hastily-conceived exaction on their time and labour and a system of general contribution in the public interest, which, to be readily admitted, should be clearly defined. Were a regular annual tax levied in money, or some medium of barter exchange serving as a legal currency, the people would in time be brought to see that a payment of this kind evenly distributed and enforced was, indeed, a public duty they were bound to acquit themselves of, and one their Government was justified in strictly enforcing; but they do not assign any such value to the unsystematic calls upon them which prevail to-day. To be hastily summoned from their usual home avocations, or even from their possibly habitual idleness, to perform one or other of the tasks indicated above, and to get neither food nor pay for their exertions, as is often the case, seems to these unprogressive people not a public service they are called upon to perform in the public interest, but a purely personal burden laid upon their bodies and their time by the local agent of an organization which, to them, would seem to exist chiefly for its own profit.

The weight of the kwanga required at Bolobo seemed to be less than that enforced at F*, and I found that this variance existed throughout the Upper Congo. At Bolobo the kwanga loaves supplied to the Government post weighed each a little over 3 lb. That made for ordinary sale in the public market just over 1 lb.: one of each that I weighed myself gave 3 lb. 2 oz. to the Government loaf, and 13 oz. to that made for general consumption. The price paid in each case was the same—viz., one brass rod.

At the village of H*, some 4 or 5 miles from the Government post, which I visited, I found the village to number some forty adult males with their families. This village has to supply weekly to the Government post 400 of these loaves (say 1,250 lb. weight of food) for which a payment of 20 fr. (400 rods) is made. The people of H* told me that when short of cassava from their own fields for the preparation of this supply, they bought the root in the local market and had to pay for it in the raw state just twice what they received for the prepared and cooked product they delivered at the post. I had no means of verifying this statement, but I was assured by many persons that it was strictly true. In addition to supplying this food weekly, H* is liable to the usual calls for canoe paddlers, day labourers at the Government station (male and female), timber gatherers for the pier, and woodcutters at the local wood-post of the Government steamers.

There was a good deal of sickness in this town, and in that beyond it at the date of my visit. Sleeping sickness and, still more, small-pox. Both diseases have done much to reduce the population. Emigration to the French shore, once active, would seem now to have ceased. Efforts are made locally, to improve the physical and sanitary condition of the people, and improvements due to these efforts are becoming apparent, but I was given to understand that progress is very slow.

The insufficiency of food generally observable in this part of the Congo would seem to account for much sickness, and probably for the mental depression of the natives I so often observed, itself a frequent cause of disease. The Chief of the Government post at G* during a part of my stay there told me that he thought the district was quite exhausted, and that it must be ever increasingly difficult to obtain food from it for the public requirements of the local administration.

Some 40 miles above Bolobo a large “camp d’instruction,” with from 600 to 800 native recruits and a staff of several European officers is established at a place called Yumbi. I had, to my regret, no opportunity of visiting this camp, although I met one of its officers who very kindly invited me there, promising a hearty welcome. He informed me that native food supplies were fairly plentiful in the neighbourhood of this camp, and that the principal rations of the soldiers consisted of hippopotamus meat, the Congo in that neighbourhood affording a seemingly inexhaustible supply of these creatures.

In front of the house of one of the natives in a village, I saw some seventy hippopotamus skulls. The animals, I was told, had all been killed by one man. Many are speared, and some are shot by the native hunters with cap-guns. A somewhat considerable trade in these weapons appears to have been done until recently by the Government Agents in the district, and I found several of the Bolobo young men with guns of this description which they had bought at different times from the local official, generally paying for them with ivory tusks. The sale of these arms by Representatives of the Congo Government would seem to have ceased somewhat more than a year ago, since which date the holders of the guns have been exposed to some trouble in order to obtain licences. Dealing in or holding guns of this description would seem to be regulated by clearly drawn up Regulations, which, however, do not seem to have been observed until last year. A tax of 20 fr. is now levied on the issue of a licence to bear arms, which the law renders obligatory on every gun holder, but this tax is also collected in an irregular manner.

I learned while at Bolobo that a large influx from the I* district (which comprises the “Domaine de la Couronne”) had lately taken place into the country behind G*. The nearest Settlement of these emigrants was said to be about 20 to 25 miles from G*, and I determined to visit this place. I spent three days on this journey, visited two large villages in the interior belonging to the K* tribe, wherein I found that fully half the population now consisted of refugees belonging to the L* tribe who had formerly dwelt near I*. I saw and questioned several groups of these people, whom I found to be industrious blacksmiths and brass-workers. These people consisted of old and young men, women, and children. They had fled from their country and sought an asylum with their friends the K* during the last four years. The distance they had travelled in their flight they put at about six or seven days’ march—which I should estimate at from 120 to 150 miles of walking. They went on to declare, when asked why they had fled, that they had endured such ill-treatment at the hands of the Government officials and the Government soldiers in their own country that life had become intolerable, that nothing had remained for them at home but to be killed for failure to bring in a certain amount of rubber or to die from starvation or exposure in their attempts to satisfy the demands made upon them. The statements made to me by these people were of such a nature that I could not believe them to be true. The fact remained, however, that they had certainly abandoned their homes and all that they possessed, had travelled a long distance, and now preferred a species of mild servitude among the K* to remaining in their own country. I took careful note of the statements made to me by these people, which will be found in the transcript attached (Inclosure 1).12 I subsequently found when at M* some days later, other L*, who confirmed the truth of the statements made to me at N*.

On reaching Bolobo in September I obtained information amply confirming the statements made to me. My own further inquiries at M* are embodied in the accompanying document (Inclosure 1).13

Leaving Bolobo on the 23rd July, I passed on up river in a small steam-launch I had been fortunate enough to secure for my private use. We touched at several points on the French shore, and on the 25th July reached Lukolela, where I spent two days. This district had, when I visited it in 1887, numbered fully 5,000 people; to-day the population is given, after a careful enumeration, at less than 600. The reasons given me for their decline in numbers were similar to those furnished elsewhere, viz., sleeping-sickness, general ill-health, insufficiency of food, and the methods employed to obtain labour from them by local officials and the exactions levied on them. The Lukolela district furnishes a small supply of rubber, which is required by the Local Government posts to be brought in at fixed periods as a general contribution. Food—“kwanga” and fish—are also required of the riverside dwellers. The towns I visited were very ill-kept and tumble-down, and bore no comparison, either in the class of dwelling-houses now adopted or in the extent of cultivated ground around them, to the condition in which these people formerly dwelt.

Several reasons for the increase of sickness and the great falling-off in the population of the district were stated by the local missionary, who has resided for many years at Lukolela, in two letters which he recently addressed to the Governor-General of the Congo State. A copy of these letters was handed to me by the writer—the Rev. John Whitehead—on my calling in at Lukolela on my way down river on the 12th September. I had no opportunity of verifying, by personal observation, the statements made by Mr. Whitehead in his letter, for my stay at Lukolela was only one of a few hours. I have, however, no right to doubt Mr. Whitehead’s veracity, and he declared himself prepared to accept full responsibility for the statements his letter contained. A copy of these letters is appended (Inclosure 2).14

The Government post at Lukolela I did not visit, but viewed from the river it presents a charming aspect; well-built houses, surrounded by plantations of coffee-trees, extend for some distance along the shore.

From Lukolela I proceeded to O*, which I purposed visiting. O*, with its two adjoining villages, when I had last seen them in the autumn of 1887, had presented a scene of the greatest animation. The population of the three towns then numbered some 4,000 to 5,000 people—O* alone, it was estimated, containing at least 3,000. Scores of men had put off in canoes to greet us with invitations that we should spend the night in their village. On steaming into O*, I found that this village had entirely disappeared, and that its place was occupied by a large “camp d’instruction,” where some 800 native recruits, brought from various parts of the Congo State, are drilled into soldierhood by a Commandant and a staff of seven or eight European officers and non-commissioned officers.

There is also a large plantation of coffee-trees, a telegraph office, and a trading store, but I could see no indications of native life beyond those dependent on these establishments. The once villages and their fields had been converted into a very well-laid-out and admirably-maintained military station. From the Commandant and his officers a cordial welcome was received. The camp as a military centre is excellently chosen, the situation of Irebu commanding not only the Lake Mantumba waterway, but one of the chief navigable channels of the Congo; and it is, moreover, situated opposite the estuary of the great Ubangi River, which is probably the most important Congo affluent. The Commandant informed me that a very large supply of native food, amply sufficient for the soldiers under his command, was supplied weekly by the natives of the surrounding district.

It is difficult to exactly estimate the number of soldiers enrolled and maintained by the Congo Government. There are, I think, four separate “camps d’instruction” upon the Upper Congo, each of which should have an effective of 700 men. The effective strengths of the companies of Manyuema, Lake Léopold II, Lualaba-Kasai, Aruwimi, and Ruzizi-Kivu were fixed respectively by Circular of the Governor-General, dated the 25th June, 1902, at 750, 475, 850, 450, and 875 men. There are many other companies of the “Force Publique” in the Congo State, and I think it might safely be estimated that the number of men with the colours does not amount to less than 18,000. By a Circular addressed to the local authorities, dated the 26th May last, the Governor-General stated that it was necessary to add 200 men to each of the camps in the Upper Congo. In the same Circular a proposed increase of the general strength of the army was indicated in the following terms:—

“Notre programme militaire est très vaste et sa réalisation exige une attention soutenue et de grands efforts, mais sans son exécution intégrale notre situation demeurera précaire.

“S’il le fallait, mais je ne pense pas même que ce soit nécessaire, le Gouvernement se montrerait disposé à augmenter dans une certaine mesure le contingent pour 1903.”

The same Circular added that:—

“Certains districts en effet ne remplacent pas les miliciens décédés, désertés en cours de route et ceux réformés à leur arrivée au camp.

“De plus, pendant la période d’instruction dans les camps un grand nombre de déchets se produisent aussi parmi ces recrues, les transports de miliciens laissant encore a désirer.”

The Commandant informed me that some of the natives who had fled into the French territory opposite ten years ago, when the Irebu tribes had deserted their homes, were now gradually returning to Congo State territory. I found, subsequently, that this was the case, the people alleging that since the rubber tax had been dropped in the Mantumba district they preferred returning to their home lands to remaining on the strange sites in French territory, to which they had fled when that tax was at work.

From Irebu I proceeded some 25 miles to Ikoko, once a large village on the north shore of Lake Mantumba. I remained in Lake Mantumba seventeen days visiting, during that time, the Government post at Bikoro on the east shore of the lake, and many native towns scattered around the lake side. I also ascended by boat one of the rivers falling into the lake, and visited three native villages in the forest situated along this waterway. Lake Mantumba is a fine sheet of water about 25 or 30 miles long and some 12 or 15 miles broad at the broadest part, surrounded by a dense forest. The inhabitants of the district are of the Ntomba tribe, and are still rude savages, using very fine bows and arrows and ill-made spears as their weapons. There are also in the forest country many families or clans of a dwarf race called Batwas, who are of a much more savage and untameable disposition than the Ntombas, who form the bulk of the population. Both Batwas and Ntombas are still cannibals, and cannibalism, although repressed and not so openly indulged in as formerly, is still prevalent in the district. The Mantumba people were, in the days before the establishment of Congo State rule, among the most active fishermen and traders of the Upper Congo. In fleets of canoes they used to issue out upon the main waters of the Congo and travel very great distances, fighting their way if necessary, in search of purchasers of their fish or slaves, or to procure these latter. All this has ceased and, save for small canoes used in catching fish, I saw neither on the lake itself nor at the many villages I touched along its shores, any canoes comparable to those so frequently seen in the past. A man I visited told me that a fine canoe he bought for 2,000 brass rods (100 fr.), in which to send the weekly imposition of fish to the local State post, had been kept by the official there, had been used to transport Government soldiers in, and was now attached to a Government wood-cutting post, which he named, out on the main river. He had received nothing for the loss of this canoe, and when I urged him to lay the matter before the local official responsible, who had doubtless retained the canoe in ignorance, he pulled up his loin cloth and, pointing to where he had been flogged with a chicotte, said: “If I complained I should only get more of these.” Although afraid to complain locally, he declared he would be perfectly willing to accompany me if I would take him before one of the Congo Judges or, above all, down to Boma. I assured him that a statement such as that he had made to me would meet with attention at Boma, and that if he could prove its truth he would get satisfaction for the loss of the canoe.

Statements of a similar character, often supported by many witnesses, were made to me more than once during my journey around the lake, some of them pointing to far greater derelictions of duty. The same man told me, on the same occasion, that one of the Government officials of the district (the same man, indeed, who had retained the canoe) had recently given him three wives. The official, he declared, had been “making war” on a town in the forest I was then in, for failing to bring in its fixed food supply, and as a result of the punitive measures undertaken the town had been destroyed and many prisoners taken. As a result, several women so taken were homeless, and were distributed. “Wives were being given away that day,” said my informant, “he gave me three, but another man got four.” The man went on to say that one of these “wives” had since escaped, aided, as he complained, by one of his own townsmen, who was a slave from her own native town.

The population of the lake-side towns would seem to have diminished within the last ten years by 60 or 70 per cent. It was in 1893 that the effort to levy an india-rubber imposition in this district was begun, and for some four or five years this imposition could only be collected at the cost of continual fighting. Finding the task of collecting india-rubber a well nigh impossible one, the authorities abandoned it in this district, and the remaining inhabitants now deliver a weekly supply of food-stuffs for the up-keep of the military camp at Irebu, or the big coffee plantation at Bikoro. Several villages I visited supply also to the latter station a fortnightly tax of gum-copal, which the surrounding forests yield abundantly. Gum-copal is also exposed and washed up on the shores of the lake. The quantity of this commodity supplied by each village on which it is assessed is put at 10 bags per fortnight. Each bag is officially said to contain 25 kilog., so that the imposition would amount to a quarter of a ton weight per fortnight. I found, when trying to lift some of these bags I saw being packed at a native village I was in, that they must weigh considerably more than 25 kilog., so that I concluded that each sack represents that quantity net of gum-copal. There is a considerable loss in cleaning, chipping, and washing crude gum as collected. The quantity brought by each village would thus work out at 6-1/2 tons per annum. When I visited the Government station at P*, the chief of that post showed me ten sacks of gum which he said had been just brought in by a very small village in the neighbourhood. For this quarter of a ton of gum-copal he said he had paid the village one piece of blue drill—a rough cotton cloth which is valued locally, after adding the cost of transport, at 11-1/2 fr. a-piece. By the Congo Government “Bulletin Officiel” of this year (No. 4, April 1903) I found that 339-1/2 tons of gum-copal were exported in 1902, all from the Upper Congo, and that this was valued at 475,490 fr. The value per ton would, therefore, work out at about 56l. The fortnightly yield of each village would therefore seem to be worth a maximum of 14l. (probably less), for which a maximum payment of 11-1/2 fr. is made. At one village I visited I found the majority of the inhabitants getting ready the gum-copal and the supply of fish which they had to take to P* on the morrow. They were putting it into canoes to paddle across the lake—some 20 miles—and they left with their loads in the night from alongside my steamer. These people told me that they frequently received, instead of cloth, 150 brass rods (7-1/2 fr.) for the quarter of a ton of gum-copal they took fortnightly.

The value of the annual payment in gum-copal made by each town would seem to be about 360l., while at an average of 9 fr. as the remuneration each receives fortnightly, they would appear to receive some 10l. in annual return.

In the village of Montaka, at the south end of the lake, where I spent two days, the people seemed, during my stay, to be chiefly engrossed in the task of chipping and preparing the gum-copal for shipment to Bikoro, and in getting ready their weekly yield of fish for the same post. I saw the filling with gum of the ten basket-sacks taking place under the eyes of the Chief—who himself contributed—and a State sentry who was posted there. Each household in the town was represented at this final task, and every adult householder of Montaka shared in the general contribution. Assuming the population of Montaka at from 600 to 800—and it cannot now be more although a town of 4,000 souls ten years ago—fully 150 householders are thus directly affected by the collection and delivery, each fortnight, of this “impôt en nature,” and are affected for the great majority of the days throughout the year.

Since for the 6-1/2 tons of gum-copal which the 150 householders of Montaka contribute annually, they are seen to receive not more than a total payment of 10l. in the year—viz., 26 fortnightly payments of, on an average, say 9 fr. 50 c., giving 247 fr. annually—it follows that the remuneration each adult householder of Montaka receives for his entire year’s work is the one hundred and fiftieth part of that total—or just 1s. 4d. This is just the value of an adult fowl in Montaka. I bought ten fowls, or chickens rather, the morning of my going away, and for the only reasonably sized one among them I gave 30 rods (1 fr. 50 c.), the others, small fledglings, ranging from 15 to 20 rods each (75 cents. to 1 fr.).

The 6-1/2 tons of gum-copal supplied annually by these 150 householders being valued at about 364l., it follows that each householder had contributed something like 2l. 8s. per annum in kind.

The labour involved may or may not be unduly excessive—but it is continuous throughout the year—each man must stay in his town and be prepared each week and fortnight to have his contribution ready under fear of summary punishment.

The natives engaged as workmen on my steamer were paid each a sum of 20 rods (1 fr.) per week for food rations only, and 100 rods (5 fr.) per month wages. One of these native workmen thus earned more in one week of my service—which was that of any other private establishment employing ordinary labour—than the Montaka householder got in an entire year for his compulsory public service rendered to the Government.

At other villages which I visited, I found the tax to consist of baskets, which the inhabitants had to make and deliver weekly as well as, always, a certain amount of food-stuffs—either kwanga or fish. These baskets are used at Bikoro in packing up the gum-copal for conveyance down the river and to Europe—the river transport being effected by Government steamers. The basket-makers and other workers complained that they were sometimes remunerated for their labour with reels of sewing cotton and shirt buttons (of which they had no use) when supplies of cloth or brass wire ran short at Bikoro. As these natives go almost entirely naked, I could believe that neither thread or shirt buttons were of much service to them. They also averred that they were frequently flogged for delay or inability to complete the tale of these baskets, or the weekly supply of food. Several men, including a Chief of one town, showed broad weals across their buttocks, which were evidently recent. One, a lad of 15 or so, removing his cloth, showed several scars across his thighs, which he and others around him said had formed part of a weekly payment for a recent shortage in their supply of food. That these statements were not all untrue was confirmed by my visit to P*, when the “domaine privé” store was shown to me. It had very little in it, and I learned that the barter stock of goods had not been replenished for some time. There appeared to be from 200 to 300 pieces of coarse cotton cloth, and nothing else, and as the cloth was visibly old, I estimated the value of the entire stock at possibly 15l. It certainly would not have fetched more if put up to auction in any part of the Upper Congo.

The instructions regulating the remuneration of the native contributors and the mode of exploitation of the “forêts domaniales” were issued in the “Bulletin Officiel” of 1896, under authority of Decrees dated the 30th October and the 5th December, 1892.

These general instructions require that:—

“L’exploitation se fait par les agents de l’Intendance, sous la direction du Commissaire de District.

“Tout ce qui se rapporte à l’exploitation du domaine privé doit être séparé nettement des autres services gouvernementaux.

“Les agents préposés à l’exploitation du domaine privé consacrent tous leurs soins au développement de la récolte du caoutchouc et des autres produits de la forêt.

“Quel que soit le mode d’exploitation adopté à cet effet, ils sont tenus d’accorder aux indigènes une rémunération qui ne sera en aucun cas inférieure au montant du prix de la main-d’œuvre nécessaire à la récolte du produit; cette rémunération est fixée par le Commissaire de District, qui soumet son tarif à l’approbation du Gouverneur-Général.

“L’Inspecteur d’État en mission vérifie si ce tarif est en rapport avec le prix de la main-d’œuvre; il veille à sa stricte application, et il examine si les conditions générales d’exploitation ne donnent lieu à aucune plainte justifiée.

“Il fait comprendre aux agents chargés du service que, par le fait de rétribuer équitablement l’indigène, ils emploient le seul moyen efficace d’assurer la bonne administration du domaine et de faire naître chez lui le goût et l’habitude du travail.”

Both from the condition of the Domaine Privé Store I inspected at P*, and the obvious poverty and universal discontent of the native contributors, whose towns I visited during the seventeen days spent in Lake Mantumba, it was clear that these instructions had long since ceased to be operative. The responsibility for the non-application of such necessary regulations could not be attributed to the local officials, who, obviously, if left without the means of adequate remuneration could not themselves make good the oversights or omissions of their superiors. That these omissions form part of a systematic breach of instructions conceived in the interest of the native I do not assert, but it was most apparent that neither in Lake Mantumba nor the other portions of the Domaine Privé which I visited was any adequate provision made for inculcating the natives with any just appreciation of the value of work.

The station at Bikoro has been established as a Government plantation for about ten years. It stands on the actual site of the former native town of Bikoro, an important Settlement in 1893, now reduced to a handful of ill-kept, untidy huts, inhabited by only a remnant of its former expropriated population.

Another small village, Bomenga, stands on the other side of the Government houses; the plantation enveloping both villages, and occupying their old cassava fields and gardens, which are now planted with coffee trees. Further inland these give place to cocoa and india-rubber trees (fantumia elastica), and also to the indigenous Landolphia creeper, which is being extensively cultivated. The entire plantation covers 800 hectares. There are 70 kilom. of well-cleared pathway through it, one of these roads measuring 11 kilom. in almost a straight line; 400 workmen are employed, consisting in small part of local natives, but chiefly of men brought from a distance. One numerous group I saw I was informed were “prisoners” from the Ruki district. There are 140,000 coffee trees and 170,000 cocoa trees actually in the ground, the latter a later planting than the coffee. Last year the yield was: coffee 112 tons, and cocoa 7 tons, all of which, after cleaning and preparing at the Government depôt at Kinchasa, was shipped to Europe on the Government account. India-rubber planting was not begun until November 1901. There are now 248 hectares already under cultivation, having 700,000 young Landolphia creepers, and elsewhere on the plantation, on portions mainly given up to coffee growing, there are 50,000 fantumia elastica and 50,000 manihot glaziovii trees. The station buildings are composed entirely of native materials, and are erected entirely by local native labour. The Chief of the Post has very ably directed the work of this plantation, which engrosses all his time, and until quite recently he had no assistant. A subordinate official is now placed under his orders. When he took over the district he told me there were sixty-eight native soldiers attached to the post, which number he has now been able to reduce to nineteen. In the days when the india-rubber tax prevailed in Lake Mantumba there were several hundreds of soldiers required in that region. No rubber is now worked in the neighbourhood I am informed.

Despite the 70 kilom. of roadway through the plantation, much of which has to be frequently—indeed daily—traversed, the two Europeans have no means of locomotion provided them, and must make their daily inspection to various points of this large plantation on foot.

In addition to the control of this flourishing establishment, the Chief of the Post is the Executive Chief of the entire district, but it is evident that but little time or energy could be left to the most energetic official for duties outside the immediate scope of his work as a coffee and india-rubber grower, in addition to those “engrossing cares” the general instructions cited above impose upon the agents who exploit the State domain.

I have dwelt upon the condition of P* and the towns I visited around Lake Mantumba in my notes taken at the time, and these are appended hereto (Inclosure 3).15 A careful investigation of the conditions of native life around the lake confirmed the truth of the statements made to me—that the great decrease in population, the dirty and ill-kept towns, and the complete absence of goats, sheep, or fowls—once very plentiful in this country—were to be attributed above all else to the continued effort made during many years to compel the natives to work india-rubber. Large bodies of native troops had formerly been quartered in the district, and the punitive measures undertaken to this end had endured for a considerable period. During the course of these operations there had been much loss of life, accompanied, I fear, by a somewhat general mutilation of the dead, as proof that the soldiers had done their duty. Each village I visited around the lake, save that of Q* and one other, had been abandoned by its inhabitants. To some of these villages the people have only just returned; to others they are only now returning. In one I found the bare and burnt poles of what had been dwellings left standing, and at another—that of R*—the people had fled at the approach of my steamer, and despite the loud cries of my native guides on board, nothing could induce them to return, and it was impossible to hold any intercourse with them. At the three succeeding villages I visited beyond R*, in traversing the lake towards the south, the inhabitants all fled at the approach of the steamer, and it was only when they found whose the vessel was that they could be induced to return.

At one of these villages, S*, after confidence had been restored and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding forest, where they had hidden themselves, I saw women coming back carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food they had hastily snatched up, up to a late hour of the evening. Meeting some of these returning women in one of the fields I asked them why they had run away at my approach, and they said, smiling, “We thought you were Bula Matadi” (i.e., “men of the Government”). Fear of this kind was formerly unknown on the Upper Congo; and in much more out-of-the-way places visited many years ago the people flocked from all sides to greet a white stranger. But to-day the apparition of a white man’s steamer evidently gave the signal for instant flight.

The chief of the P* post told me that a similar alarm reigned almost everywhere in the country behind his station, and that when he went on the most peaceful missions only a few miles from his house the villages were generally emptied of all human beings when he entered them, and it was impossible in the majority of cases to get into touch with the people in their own homes. It was not so in all cases, he said, and he instanced certain villages where he could go certain of a friendly reception, but with the majority, he said, he had found it quite impossible to ever find them “at home.” He gave, as an explanation, when I asked for the reason of this fear of the white man, that as these people were great savages, and knew themselves how many crimes they had committed, they doubtless feared that the white man of the Government was coming to punish their misconduct. He added that they had undoubtedly had an “awful past” at the hands of some of the officials who had preceded him in the local administration, and that it would take time for confidence to be restored. Men, he said, still came to him whose hands had been cut off by the Government soldiers during those evil days, and he said there were still many victims of this species of mutilation in the surrounding country. Two cases of the kind came to my actual notice while I was in the lake. One, a young man, both of whose hands had been beaten off with the butt ends of rifles against a tree, the other a young lad of 11 or 12 years of age, whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. This boy described the circumstances of his mutilation, and, in answer to my inquiry, said that although wounded at the time he was perfectly sensible of the severing of his wrist, but lay still fearing that if he moved he would be killed. In both these cases the Government soldiers had been accompanied by white officers whose names were given to me. Of six natives (one a girl, three little boys, one youth, and one old woman) who had been mutilated in this way during the rubber régime, all except one were dead at the date of my visit. The old woman had died at the beginning of this year, and her niece described to me how the act of mutilation in her case had been accomplished. The day I left Lake Mantumba five men whose hands had been cut off came to the village of T* across the lake to see me, but hearing that I had already gone away they returned to their homes. A messenger came in to tell me, and I sent to T* to find them, but they had then dispersed. Three of them subsequently returned, but too late for me to see them. These were some of those, I presume, to whom the official had referred, for they came from the country in the vicinity of P* station. Statements of this character, made both by the two mutilated persons I saw and by others who had witnessed this form of mutilation in the past, are appended (Inclosure 4).16

The taxes levied on the people of the district being returnable each week or fortnight, it follows that they cannot leave their homes. At some of the villages I visited near the end of Lake Mantumba the fish supplies have to be delivered weekly to the military camp at Irebu, or when the water is high in the lake and fish harder to catch, every ten days. The distance from Irebu of one of these towns could not have been less than 45 miles. To go and come between their homes and the camp involved to the people of this town 90 miles of canoe paddling, and with the lake stormy and its waters rough—as is often the case—the double journey would take at least four days. This consumption of time must be added to that spent in the catching of the fish, and as the punishment for any falling off in quantity or delay in delivery is not a light one, the Chief responsible for the tax stoutly opposes any one quitting the town. Some proof of this incidentally arose during my stay, and threatened to delay my journey. Being short-handed I sought, when at Ikoko, to engage six or seven young men of the town as woodcutters to travel on board the steamer. I proposed to engage them for two or three months, and offered good wages, much more than by any local service they could hope to earn. More men offered than I needed, and I selected six. The State Chief of the village hearing of this at once came to me to protest against any of his people leaving the town, and said that he would have all the youths I had engaged tied up and sent over to the Government official at Bikoro. There were at the time three soldiers armed with Albini rifles quartered at Ikoko, and the Chief sent for them to arrest my would-be crew. The Chief’s argument, too, was perfectly logical. He said, “I am responsible each week for 600 rations of fish which must be delivered at Bikoro. If it fails I am held responsible and will be punished. I have been flogged more than once for a failure in the fish supply, and will not run any risks. If these men go I shall be short-handed, therefore they must stay to help in getting the weekly tax.” I was forced to admit the justice of this argument, and we finally arrived at a compromise. I promised the Chief that, in addition to paying wages to the men I took, a sum representing the value to him of their labour should be left at Ikoko, so that he might hire extra hands to get the full quantity of fish required of him. S I admitted that he had been forced to flog men from villages which failed in their weekly supplies, but that he had for some months discontinued this course. He said that now he put defaulters into prison instead. If a village which was held to supply, say, 200 rations of fish each week brought only 180 rations, he accepted no excuse, but put two men in “block.” If thirty rations were wanting he detained three of the men, and so on—a man for each ten rations. These people would remain prisoners, and would have to work at Bikoro, or possibly would be sent to Coquilhatville, the administrative head-quarters of the Equator district, until the full imposition came in.

I subsequently found when in the neighbourhood of Coquilhatville that summary arrest and imprisonment of this kind for failure to complete the tale of local imposition is of constant occurrence. The men thus arrested are kept often in the “chain gang” along with other prisoners, and are put to the usual class of penitential work. They are not brought before or tried by any Court or sentenced to any fixed term of imprisonment, but are merely detained until some sort of satisfaction is obtained, and while under detention are kept at hard work.

Indeed, I could not find that a failure to meet the weekly tax is punishable by law and no law was cited to me as a warrant for this summary imprisonment, but if such a law exists it is to be presumed that it does not treat the weekly taxpayers’ failure as a grave criminal offence. The men taken are frequently not those in fault; the requisitioning authority cannot discriminate. He is forced to insure compliance with the demands imposed on each village, and the first men to hand from the offending community of necessity have to pay in the chain-gang the general failure and possibly the individual fault of others. Men taken in this way are sometimes not seen again in their own homes. They are either taken to distant Government stations as workmen, or are drafted as soldiers into the Force Publique. The names of many men thus taken from the Mantumba district were given to me, and in some cases their relatives had heard of their death in distant parts of the country. This practice was, I believe, more general in the past, but that it still exists to-day, and on an extensive scale, I had several instances of observing in widely separated districts. The officials effecting these arrests do not seem to have any other course open to them, unless it be a resort to military punitive measures or to individual corporal punishment; while the natives assert that, as the taxes are unequally distributed, and their own numbers constantly decreasing, the strain upon them each week often becomes unbearable, and some of their number will shirk the constantly recurring unwelcome task. Should this shirking become general instead of being confined to individuals, punitive measures are undertaken against the refractory community. Where these do not end in fighting, loss of life and destruction of native property, they entail very heavy fines which are levied on the defaulting village. An expedition of the minor kind occurred some five months before my presence in Lake Mantumba. The village in fault was that of R*, the one where when I sought to visit it no people would remain to face me. This village was said to have been some three weeks in arrears with the fish it was required to supply to the camp at Irebu. An armed force occupied it, commanded by an officer, and captured ten men and eight canoes. These canoes and the prisoners were conveyed by water to Irebu, the main force marching back by land.

My informant, who dwelt in a village near R*, which I was then visiting, said he saw the prisoners being taken back to Irebu under guard of six black soldiers, tied up with native rope so tightly that they were calling aloud with pain. The force halted the night in his town. These people were detained at Irebu for ten days until the people of R* had brought in a supply of fish and had paid a fine. Upon their release two of these men died, one close to Irebu and the other within sight of the village I was in, and two more, my informant added, died soon after their return to R*. A man, who saw them, said the prisoners were ill and bore the marks on wrists and legs of the thongs used in tying them. Of the canoes captured only the old ones were returned to R*, the better ones being confiscated.

The native relating this incident added that he thought it stupid of the white men to take both men and canoes away from a small place like R* as a punishment for a shortage in its fish supply. “The men were wanted to catch fish and so were the canoes,” he said, “and to take both away only made it harder for the people of R* to perform their task.” I went to R* in the hope of being able to verify the truth of this and other statements made to me as to the hardships recently inflicted on its people by reason of their disobedience, but owing to their timidity, to whatever cause this might have been due, it was impossible for me to get into touch with any of them. That a very close watch is kept on the people of the district and their movements is undoubted. In the past they escaped in large numbers to the French territory, but many were prevented by force from doing this, and numbers were shot in the attempt.

To-day the Congolese authorities discourage intercourse of this kind, not by the same severe measures as formerly, but probably none the less effectively. By a letter dated the 2nd July, 1902, the present Commandant of the camp of Irebu wrote as follows to the Rev. E. V. Sjoblom, a Swedish Missionary (since dead), who was then in charge of the Mission at Ikoko:

“Je vous serais bien obligé de ne pas permettre à vos jeunes gens de se rendre sur la rive Française et vendre aux indigènes Français qui ont fui notre rive, des vivres, produits du travail de nos indigènes, que eux-mêmes n’ont pas fui et ne se sont pas soustraits au travail que nous leur avons imposé.”

From Lake Mantumba I proceeded to the immediate neighbourhood of Coquilhatville, where five days were spent, chiefly at native communities which stretch for some distance along the east bank of the Congo. These villages formerly extended for 15 miles, and were then filled with a numerous population. To-day they are broken up into isolated settlements, each much reduced in numbers, and with (in most cases) the houses badly constructed. There were no goats or sheep to be seen, whereas formerly these were very plentiful, and food for the crew was only obtained with difficulty. In the village of V*, which I twice visited, the usual tax of food-stuff, with firing for the steamers, had to be supplied to Coquilhatville, which is distant only some 6 miles. A Government sentry was quartered here, who, along with one of the Chiefs of the town, spoke fully of the condition of the people. The sentry himself came from the Upper Bussira River, some hundreds of miles distant. This was, he said, his third period of service with the Force Publique. As his reason for remaining so long in this service he asserted that, as his own village and country were subjected to much trouble in connection with the rubber tax, he could not live in his own home, and preferred, he said, laughing, “to be with the hunters rather than with the hunted.” Both a Chief V* and this sentry represented the food taxes levied on this village as difficult for the people to collect, and only inadequately remunerated. There would appear in all these statements a contradiction in terms. The contributions required of the natives are continually spoken of as a “tax,” and are as continually referred to as being “paid for” or “remunerated.” It is obvious that taxes are neither bought nor sold, but the contradiction is only one of terms. The fact is that the weekly or fortnightly contributions everywhere required of the native communities I visited are levied as taxes, or “prestations annuelles,” by authority of a Royal Decree of the Sovereign of the Congo State. The Decrees authorizing the levy of these taxes are dated the 6th October, 1891 (Article 4), that of the 5th December, 1892, and (for the district of Manyeuma) that of the 28th November, 1893. There is a further Decree, dated the 30th April, 1897, requiring the establishment and up-keep by native Chiefs of coffee and cocoa plantations. I nowhere saw or heard of such plantations existing as institutions maintained by the natives themselves. There are plantations of both existing, but these are the property of either the Government itself or of some European agency acting with its sanction and partly in its interests, on lands declared as public lands. With regard to the two first Decrees establishing a system of taxation, provision was made for the investiture of a native Chief recognized by the local Government authority, who should give to this Chief a copy of the procès-verbal, as registered in the public archives, and a medal or other symbol of office. With this investiture a list was ordered to be drawn up, indicating the name of the village, its exact situation, the names of the Headmen, the number of its houses, and the actual number of the population—men, women, and children. The Decree then goes on to provide for the manner in which the “prestations annuelles” imposed on each village were to be assessed. A list of the products to be furnished by each village—such as maize, sorghum, palm oil, ground-nuts, &c., corvées of workmen or soldiers—was to be drawn up by the Commissaire of the district. It was provided that this list should also indicate the lands which were to be cleared and cultivated under the direction of the Chiefs, the nature of such cultivation put in hand, and “all other works of public utility which might be prescribed in the interest of public health, the exploitation or improvement of the soil, or otherwise.” These lists had first of all to be submitted for his approval to the Governor-General. I could not find that, save in respect of the strict enforcement of the contributions, this law was generally or rigorously observed. In many villages where I asked for it no copy of any procès-verbal could be produced, and in several cases no act of investiture of the local Chief seemed to have ever taken place. Plantations, such as those outlined in the Decree which made provision for them, nowhere exist in any part of the country I traversed. The enumeration of the houses and people had in some instances been made, I was informed, but it was many years ago; and as the population had since greatly declined, this enumeration could not to-day always serve as an accurate basis on which to reckon the extent of the existing contribution.

At the village of A*, which I visited twice during my stay in the neighbourhood, A furnished me with particulars as to his own public obligations. His portion of A* had formerly been extensive, and at the date when an enumeration was made contained many people. To-day it has only six adult householders, including himself, inhabiting now eleven huts in all, with their wives and children—a total population of twenty-seven persons. My attention was first drawn to him and his village by my meeting with a young boy—a lad of 7 years old, I should judge—whom I found in the village of U* as the recently acquired property of B. B told me he had bought the boy, C, from A for 1,000 rods (50 fr.). A, he said, having to meet a fine imposed by the Commissaire-Général for shortage in some of the weeks’ supplies, and being 1,000 rods short of the amount required, had pawned his nephew C to him for that sum. This had taken place on the, and my interview with B and the boy took place on the [blank space in text]. The next day I walked to A*, which lies within a few miles of Coquilhatville, and saw A and his town and people. There were then exactly eight men in the town, including himself; but as two have since been detained as prisoners at Coquilhatville for deficiencies in the weekly supplies, there were, when I last saw A* in September, only six adult males there. The weekly imposition levied on A’s part of A* was—

Kwanga 150 rations (about 700 lbs. weight of food).
Fish 95 rations.
Palm thatching mats
Firewood, for steamer fuel 2 canoe loads.

Also each week one large fresh fish or, in lieu thereof, two fowls for the European table at Coquilhatville. In addition, the men had to help in hunting game in the woods for the European station staff.

The payments made each week for these supplies (when they were completely delivered) were:—

Fr. c.
Kwanga, 150 rods			7	50
Fish, 95 rods			4	75
Palm mats, 180 rods			9	0
2 canoe loads firewood,	1	rod	0	5
21 30

Payments for firewood were made by a paper receipt to be redeemed annually, but A told me he had refused to accept the annual payment of 50 rods (2 fr. 50 c.) for 104 canoe loads of wood delivered during the twelve months. To obtain these supplies A had frequently to purchase both fish and palm mats. The fish, as a rule, cost from 10 to 20 rods per ration, and the market price of thatching mats is 1 rod each; while the kwanga, which the Government paid 1 rod for, fetched just 5 rods each in the open market. The value of A’s weekly contribution was, according to current prices, as follows:—

————————————————————+————-+————————-
| Rods. | Value.
+————-+—————
| | Fr. c.
150 rations, kwanga, each 5 rods | 750 | 37 50
95 “fish, each 10 rods | 950 | 47 50
900 palm mats, each 1 rod | 900 | 45 0
2 canoe loads firewood, each 20 rods | 40 | 2 0
+————-+—————
Total | | 132 0
————————————————————+————-+————————-

Thus, taking no account of the fresh fish or fowls, A’s small township of eight households lost 110 fr. 70 c. per week. At the year’s end, while they had contributed 6,864 fr. worth of food and material to the local Government station, they had received as recompense 1,107 fr. 60 c. A, personally, had a larger share of the tax to meet than any of the others, and I found that the value of his personal contribution reached 80l. 3s. 4d. per annum by local prices, while he received in settlement 9l. 15s. in Government payments. He therefore contributed on his household of two wives, his mother, and dependents, inhabiting three grass and cane huts, an amount equal to 70l. 8s. 4d. per annum net.

These figures, I found on inquiry, were confirmed as correct by those who were acquainted with the local conditions. A stated that his elder brother, D, was in reality Chief of the township, but that some eight months previously D had been arrested for a deficiency in the fish and kwanga supplies. The Commissaire had then imposed a fine of 5,000 rods (250 fr.) on the town, which A, with the assistance of a neighbouring Chief named C, had paid. D was not thereupon at once released, and soon afterwards escaped from the prison at Coquilhatville, and remained in hiding in the forest. Soldiers came from the Government station and tied up eight women in the town. A and all the men ran away upon their coming, but he himself returned in the morning. The Commissaire-Général visited A*, and told A that as D had run away he (A) was now the recognized Chief of the town. He was then ordered to find his fugitive brother, whose whereabouts he did not know, and a town in the neighbourhood name E, suspected of harbouring him, was fined 5,000 rods. Since that date, although D had returned to A* to reside, A had been held, against his will, as responsible Chief of the town. He was a young man of about 23 or 24 years of age I should say. He had repeatedly, he stated, begged to be relieved of the honour thrust upon him, but in vain. His brother, D, had recently been put again in prison at Coquilhatville in connection with the loss of two cap-guns furnished him when Chief in order to procure game for the local white men’s table. The present impositions laid on A* were, A asserted, much more than it was possible for him to meet. He had repeatedly appealed to the Commissaire-Général and other officers at Coquilhatville, including the law officer, begging them to visit his town and see for themselves—as I might see—that he was speaking the truth. But, so far, no one would listen to him, and he had been always rebuffed. On the last occasion of his making this appeal, only three days before I saw him, he had been threatened with prompt imprisonment if he failed in his supplies, and he said he now saw no course before him but flight or imprisonment. He could not run away, he said, and leave his mother and dependents; besides, he would be surely found, and, in any case, whatever town harboured him would be fined as E had been.

On a certain Sunday, when he had gone in with the usual weekly supplies, which are returnable on Sundays, he had been short of eight rations of fish and ten rations of kwanga and 330 palm mats, representing a value of 84 rods (4 fr. 20 c.), as estimated on the scale of Government payments. On the same date the other and larger portion of A* town was also short of its tale of supplies, and a fine of 5,000 brass rods (250 fr.) was imposed upon the collective village. A’s share of this fine was fixed by the natives among themselves at 2,000 rods, of which 1,000 rods were to be his own personal contribution. Having himself now no money and no other means of obtaining it, he had pledged—with the consent of the father—his little nephew, D’s son, whom I had seen with B. In making inquiry, A’s story received much confirmation. He was, at any rate, known as a man of very good character, and everything pointed to his statement being true. On my return down river, I again saw A, who came after nightfall to see me, in the hope that I might perhaps be able to help him. He said that, since I had left a month previously, two of the boys of his town had been detained at Coquilhatville as prisoners when taking the rations on two successive weeks, owing to a deficiency on each occasion of 18 rods in value (90 cents.), and that these two boys—whose names he gave me—were still in prison. He had been that very day, he said, to beg that they might be released, but had failed, and there were now only five adult males in his village, including himself.

While in Coquilhatville on this mission, he declared that he had seen eleven men brought in from villages in the neighbourhood, who were put in prison before him—all of them on account of a shortage in the officially fixed scale of supplies required from their districts. I offered to take him away with me in order to lay his case before the judicial authorities elsewhere, but he refused to leave his mother. That A’s statements were not so untrustworthy as on the face they might seem to be, was proved a few days later by a comparison of his case with that of another village I visited. This was a town named W*, lying some three miles inland in a swampy forest situated near the mouth of the X* River. On quitting Coquilhatville, I proceeded to the mouth of this river, which enters the Congo some forty-five miles above that station, and I remained two days in that neighbourhood. Learning that the people of the immediate neighbourhood had recently been heavily fined for failure in their food supplies, which have to be delivered weekly at that station, and that these fines had fallen with especial severity on W*, I decided to visit that town.

It was on the 21st August that I visited W*, where I found that the statements made to me were borne out by my personal observation. The town consisted of a long single street of native huts lying in the midst of a clearing in the forest. In traversing it from end to end I estimated the number of its people at about 600 all told.

At the upper end of the town a number of men and women assembled, and some came forward, when they made a lengthy statement to the following effect. From this upper end of the town wherein I was 100 rations of kwanga had to be supplied weekly, and thirty fowls at a longer interval. These latter were for the use of Coquilhatville, while the kwanga was very largely for the use of the wood-cutters at the nearest Government wood-cutting post on the main river. The usual prices for these articles, viz., for the kwanga, 1 rod each, and for the fowls 20 rods were paid. The people also had to take each week 10 fathoms of firewood to the local wood-post, for which they often got no payment, and their women were required twice a week to work at the Government coffee plantation which extends around the wood-post.

I saw some bundles of firewood being got ready for carriage to this place. They were large and very heavy, weighing, I should say, from 70 to 80 lb. each. Some months earlier, at the beginning of the year, owing, as they said, to their failure to send in the fowls to Coquilhatville, an armed expedition of some thirty soldiers, commanded by a European officer, had come thence and occupied their town. At first they had fled into the forest, but were persuaded to come in. On returning, many of them—the principal men—- were at once tied up to trees. The officer informed them that as they had failed in their duty they must be punished. He required first that twenty-five men should be furnished as workmen for Government service. These men were taken away to serve the Government as labourers, and those addressing me did not know where these men now were. They gave eighteen names of men so taken, and said that the remaining seven came from the lower end of the town through which I had passed on entering, where the relatives themselves could give me particulars if I wished. The twenty-five men had not since been seen in W*, nor had any one there cognizance of their whereabouts. The officer had then imposed as further punishment a fine of 55,000 brass rods (2,750 fr.)—110l. This sum they had been forced to pay, and as they had no other means of raising so large a sum they had, many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. I saw no live-stock of any kind in W* save a very few fowls—possibly under a dozen—and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their supplies ready. A father and mother stepped out and said that they had been forced to sell their son, a little boy called F, for 1,000 rods to meet their share of the fine. A widow came and declared that she had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her daughter G, a little girl whom I judged from her description to be about 10 years of age. She had been sold to a man in Y*, who was named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine.

A man named H stated that while the town was occupied by the soldiers, a woman who belonged to his household, named I, had been shot dead by one of the soldiers. Her husband, a man named K, stepped forward and confirmed the statement. They both declared that the woman had quitted her husband’s house to obey a call of Nature, and that one of the soldiers, thinking she was going to run away, had shot her through the head. The soldier was put under arrest by the officer, and they said they saw him taken away a prisoner when the force was withdrawn from their town, but they knew nothing more than this. They did not know if he had been tried or punished. No one of them had ever been summoned to appear, no question had been addressed to them, and neither had the husband nor the head of I’s household received any compensation for her death. Another woman named L, the wife of a man named M, had been taken away by the native sergeant who was with the soldiers. He had admired her, and so took her back with him to Coquilhatville. Her husband heard she had died there of small-pox, but he did not know anything certain of her circumstances after she had been taken away from W*. A man named N said he had sold his wife O to a man in Y* for 900 rods to meet his share of the fine.

It was impossible for me to verify these statements, or to do much beyond noting down, as carefully as possible, the various declarations made. I found, however, on returning to Y*, that the statements made with regard to the little boy F and the girl G were true. These children were both in the neighbourhood, and owing to my intervention F was restored to his parents. The girl G, I was told, had again changed hands, and was promised in sale to a town on the north bank of the Congo, named Iberi, whose people are said to be still open cannibals. Through the hands of the local missionary this transfer was prevented, and I paid the 1,000 rods to her original purchaser, and left G to be restored to her mother from the Mission. I saw her there on the 9th September, after she had been recovered through this missionary’s efforts, while about to be sent to her parent.

With regard to the quantity of food supplies levied upon W*, I did not obtain the total amount required of the entire community, but only that which the upper end of the town furnished. The day of my visit happened to be just that when the kwanga, due at the local wood-post, was being prepared for delivery on the morrow. I saw many of the people getting their shares ready. Each share of kwanga, for which a payment of 1 rod is made by the Government, consisted of five rolls of this food tied together. One of these bundles of five rolls I sought to buy, offering the man carrying it 10 rods—or ten times what he was about to receive for it from the local Government post. He refused my offer, saying that, although he would like the 10 rods, he dare not be a bundle of his ration short. One of these bundles was weighed and found to weigh over 15 lb. This may have been an extraordinarily large bundle, although I saw many others which appeared to be of the same size. I think it would be safe to assume that the average of each ration of kwanga required from this town was not less than 12 lb. weight of cooked and carefully prepared food—a not ungenerous offering for 1/2d. By this computation the portion of W* I visited sends in weekly 1,200 lb. weight of food at a remuneration of some 5 fr. Cooked bread-stuffs supplied at 9 or 10 fr. per ton represent, it must be admitted, a phenomenally cheap loaf. At the same time with this kwanga, being prepared for the Government use, I saw others being made up for general public consumption. I bought some of these, which were going to the local market, at their current market value, viz., 1 rod each. On weighing them I found they gave an average of 1 lb. each. The weight of food-stuffs required by the Government from this town would seem to have exceeded in weight twelve times that made up for public consumption.

Whilst I was in Y* a fresh fine of 20,000 rods (1,000 fr.) was in course of collection among the various households along the river bank. This fine had been quite recently imposed by direction of —— for a further failure on the part of the Y* towns in the supply of food-stuffs from that neighbourhood. I saw at several houses piles of brass rods being collected to meet it, and in front of one of these houses I counted 2,700 rods which had been brought together by the various dependents of that family; 6,000 rods of this further fine was, I was told, to be paid by W*, which had not then recovered from its previous much larger contribution. The W* men begged me to intervene, if I could at all help them to escape this further imposition. One of them—a strong, indeed a splendid-looking man—broke down and wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around them. I could only assure these people that their obvious course to obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and that if their circumstances were clearly understood by those responsible for these fines, I trusted and believed some satisfaction would be forthcoming.

These fines, it should be borne in mind, are illegally imposed: they are not “fines of Court”; are not pronounced after any judicial hearing, or for any proved offence against the law, but are quite arbitrarily levied according to the whim or ill-will of the executive officers of the district, and their collection, as well as their imposition, involves continuous breaches of the Congolese laws. They do not, moreover, figure in the account of public revenues in the Congo “Budgets;” they are not paid into the public purse of the country, but are spent on the needs of the station or military camp of the officer imposing them, just as seems good to this official.

I can nowhere learn upon what legal basis, if any, the punishments inflicted upon native communities or individuals for failure to comply with the various forms of “prestations” rest.

These punishments are well-nigh universal and take many shapes, from punitive expeditions carried out on a large scale to such simpler forms of fine and imprisonment as that lately inflicted on U*.

I cannot find in the Penal Code of the Congo Statute Book that a failure to meet or a non-compliance with any form of prestation or impôt is anywhere defined as a crime; and so far as I can see no legal sanction could be cited for any one of the punishments so often inflicted upon native communities for this failure.

By a Royal Decree of the 11th August, 1886, provision was made for the punishments to be inflicted for infractions of the law not punishable by special penalties.

Since no special penalty in law would seem to have been provided for cases of failure or refusal to comply with the demands of the tax-gatherer, it would seem to be in the terms of this Decree that the necessary legal sanctions could alone lie.

But this Decree provides for all otherwise unspecified offences far other punishments, and far other modes of inflicting them than so many of those which came to my notice during my brief journey.

Article 1 of this Decree provides that:—

“Les contraventions aux décrets, ordonnances, arrêtes, règlements d’administration intérieure et de police, à l’égard desquelles la loi ne détermine pas de peines particulières, seront punies d’un à sept jours de servitude pénale et d’une amende n’excédant pas 200 fr., ou d’une de ces peines seulement.”

Article 2 requires that:—

“Ces peines seront appliquées par les Tribunaux de l’État conformément aux lois en vigueur.”

It would be manifestly impossible to say that either in form or mode of procedure this law had been applied to the failure of the community at W* to meet the demands made upon them.

Neither the summary arrest and taking away from their homes of the men whose names were given to me nor the imposition of the very heavy fine of brass rods find any warrant in this page of the Congo Statute Book.

If a legal warrant exists for the action of the authorities in this case—as in the numerous other cases brought to my notice—that action would still call for much adverse comment.

The amount of the fine levied on W* was not only out of all proportion to the gravity of the offence committed, but was of so crushing a character as to preclude the possibility of its being acquitted by any reasonable or legitimate means that community disposed of.

Among the earliest enactments of civilized administrations, recognition has invariably been given to the pronouncement that no fine or imposition, or exaction, shall exceed the powers of the person on whom it is imposed to meet it.

But if, as I venture to presume, no Congolese law or judicial pronouncement exists, or could exist, for the levying, in this manner, of these fines, very explicit Regulations for the treatment of the natives on general lines and their right to judicial protection do exist.

In the “texte coordonné des diverses instructions relatives aux rapports des Agents de l’État avec les indigènes,” which are to be found in the “Bulletin Officiel” of 1896 (p. 255), these Regulations are published at length and would seem, textually, to leave little room for criticism.

Were their application enforced it is abundantly clear that a situation such as that I found in existence at W* could not arise, and much of the general unhappiness and distress of the natives I witnessed on all sides would disappear along with the fines and much also of the “prestations,” within the first month of the translation into action of these Regulations.

One paragraph only need here be cited to emphasize the bearing and import of these remarks:—

“Les agents doivent se souvenir que les peines disciplinaires prévues par le règlement de discipline militaire ne sont applicables qu’aux recrutés militaires, uniquement pour des infractions contre la discipline, et dans les conditions spécialement prévues par le dit règlement.

“Elles ne sont applicables, sous aucune prétexte, aux serviteurs de l’État non militaire ni aux indigènes, que ceux-ci soient ou non en rébellion vis-à-vis de l’Etat.

“Ceux d’entre eux qui sont prévenus de délits ou crimes doivent être déférés aux Tribunaux compétents et jugés conformément aux lois.”

At neither W* nor Y* is any rubber worked. With my arrival in the Lulongo River, I was entering one of the most productive rubber districts of the Congo State, where the industry is said to be in a very flourishing condition. The Lulongo is formed by two great feeders—the Lopori and Maringa Rivers—which, after each a course of some 350 miles through a rich, forested country, well peopled by a tribe named Mongos, unite at Bassankusu, some 120 miles above where the Lulongo enters the Congo. The basins of these two rivers form the Concession known as the A.B.I.R., which has numerous stations, and a staff of fifty-eight Europeans engaged in exploiting the india-rubber industry, with head-quarters at Bassankusu. Two steamers belonging to the A.B.I.R. Company navigate the waterways of the Concession, taking up European goods and bringing down to Bassankusu the india-rubber, which is there transhipped on board a Government steamer which plies for this purpose between Coquilhatville and Bassankusu, a distance of probably 160 miles. The transport of all goods and agents of the A. B. I. R. Company, immediately these quit the Concession, is carried on exclusively by the steamers of the Congo Government, the freight and passage-money obtained being reckoned as part of the public revenue. I have no actual figures giving the annual output of india-rubber from the A.B.I.R. Concession, but it is unquestionably large, and may, in the case of a prosperous year, reach from 600 to 800 tons. The quality of the A.B.I.R. rubber is excellent, and it commands generally a high price on the European market, so that the value of its annual yield may probably be estimated at not less than 150,000l. The merchandise used by the Company consists of the usual class of Central African barter goods—cotton cloths of different quality, Sheffield cutlery, matchets, beads, and salt. The latter is keenly sought by the natives of all the interior of Africa. There is also a considerable import by the A.B.I.R. Company, I believe, of cap-guns, which are chiefly used in arming the sentinels—termed “forest guards”—who, in considerable numbers, are quartered on the native villages throughout the Concession to see that the picked men of each town bring in, with regularity, the fixed quantity of pure rubber required of them every fortnight. I have no means of ascertaining the number of this class of armed men employed by the A.B.I.R. Company, but I saw many of them when up the Lopori River, and the gun of one of these sentries—himself an Ngombe savage—had branded on the stock “Depôt 2210.” In addition to its numerous forest guards, armed with cap-guns, which, at close quarters, can be a very effective weapon, the A. B. I. R. Company has a fairly strong armament of rifles. These are limited to twenty-five rifles for the use of each factory. The two steamers, I believe, have also a similar armament.

The Secteur of Bongandanga, which was the only district of the A.B.I.R. Concession I visited, has three “factories,” so that the number of rifles permitted in that one district would be seventy-five. I do not know if any limits or what limits are imposed on the number of cartridges which are permitted for the defence of these factories. One of the largest Congo Concession Companies had, when I was on the Upper River, addressed a request to its Directors in Europe for a further supply of ball-cartridge. The Directors had met this demand by asking what had become of the 72,000 cartridges shipped some three years ago, to which a reply was sent to the effect that these had all been used in the production of india-rubber. I did not see this correspondence, and cannot vouch for the truth of the statement; but the officer who informed me that it had passed before his own eyes was one of the highest standing in the interior.

When at Stanley Pool in June I had seen in one of the Government stores at Léopoldville a number of cases of rifles marked A. B. I. R. awaiting transport up river in one of the Government vessels; and upon my return to that neighbourhood, I was told by a local functionary that 200 rifles had, in July, been so shipped for the needs of the Lomami Company.

The right of the various Concession Companies operating within the Congo State to employ armed men—whether these bear rifles or cap-guns—is regulated by Government enactments, which confer on these commercial Societies what are termed officially “rights of police” (“droits de police”). A Circular of the Governor-General dealing with this question, dated the 20th October, 1900, points out the limits within which this right may be exercised. Prior to the issue of this Circular (copy of which is attached—Inclosure 5),17 the various Concession Companies would appear to have engaged in military operations on a somewhat extensive scale, and to have made war upon the natives on their own account. The Regulations this Circular provides, to insure the licensing of all arms, rifles, and cap-guns, do not seem to be strictly observed, for in several cases the sentries or forest guards I encountered on my journey up the Lulongo had no licence (Modèle C) of the kind required by the Circular; and in two cases I found them provided with arms of precision. That the extensive use of armed men in the pay of the so-called Trading Societies, or in the service of the Government, as a means to enforce the compliance with demands for india-rubber, had been very general up to a recent date, is not denied by any one I met on the Upper Congo.

In a conversation with a gentleman of experience on this question, our remarks turned upon the condition of the natives. He produced a disused diary, and in it, I found and copied the following entry:—

M. P. called on us to get out of the rain, and in conversation with M. Q. in presence of myself and R., said: ‘The only way to get rubber is to fight for it. The natives are paid 35 centimes per kilog., it is claimed, but that includes a large profit on the cloth; the amount of rubber is controlled by the number of guns, and not the number of bales of cloth. The S. A. B. on the Bussira, with 150 guns, get only 10 tons (rubber) a-month; we, the State, at Momboyo, with 130 guns, get 13 tons per month.’ ‘So you count by guns?’ I asked him. ‘Partout,’ M. P. said, ‘Each time the corporal goes out to get rubber cartridges are given to him. He must bring back all not used; and for every one used, he must bring back a right hand.’ M. P. told me that sometimes they shot a cartridge at an animal in hunting; they then cut off a hand from a living man. As to the extent to which this is carried on, he informed me that in six months they, the State, on the Momboyo River, had used 6,000 cartridges, which means that 6,000 people are killed or mutilated. It means more than 6,000, for the people have told me repeatedly that the soldiers kill children with the butt of their guns.

In conversation upon this entry, I was told that the M. P. referred to was an officer in the Government service, who, at the date in question, had come down from the Momboyo River (a tributary of the great Ruki River, and forming a part, I believe, of the “Domaine de la Couronne”) invalided, on his way home. He had come down in very bad health. He stated then that he was going home, not to return to the Congo, but he died, only a little way further down the river, very soon afterwards.

The same gentleman stated that he had reported this conversation orally at Boma, as instancing the methods of exaction then in force. It is probable that the issue of the circular quoted was not unconnected with these remarks.

The region drained by the Lulongo being of great fertility has, in the past, maintained a large population. In the days prior to the establishment of civilized rule in the interior of Africa, this river offered a constant source of supply to the slave markets of the Upper Congo. The towns around the lower Lulongo River raided the interior tribes, whose prolific humanity provided not only servitors, but human meat for those stronger than themselves. Cannibalism had gone hand in hand with slave raiding, and it was no uncommon spectacle to see gangs of human beings being conveyed for exposure and sale in the local markets. I had in the past, when travelling on the Lulongo River, more than once viewed such a scene. On one occasion a woman was killed in the village I was passing through, and her head and other portions of her were brought and offered for sale to some of the crew of the steamer I was on. Sights of this description are to-day impossible in any part of the country I traversed, and the full credit for their suppression must be given to the authorities of the Congo Government. It is, perhaps, to be regretted that in its efforts to suppress such barbarous practices the Congo Government should have had to rely upon, often, very savage agencies wherewith to combat savagery. The troops employed in punitive measures were—and often are—themselves savages, only removed by outward garb from those they are sent to punish. Moreover, the measures employed to obtain recruits for the public service were themselves often but little removed from the malpractices that service was designed to suppress. The following copy of an order for Government workmen drawn up by a former Commissaire of the Equator District, and having reference to the Maringa affluent of the Lulongo River indicates that the Congo Government itself did not hesitate some years ago to purchase slaves (required as soldiers or workmen), who could only be obtained for sale by the most deplorable means:—

“Le Chef Ngulu de Wangata est envoyé dans la Maringa, pour m’y acheter des esclaves. Prière à M.M. les agents de l’A.B.I.R. de bien vouloir me signaler les méfaits que celui-ci pourrait commettre en route.

“Le Capitaine-Commandant,
(Signé) “Sarrazzyn.”

“Colquilhatville, le 1^er Mai, 1896.”

This document was shown to me during the course of my journey. The officer who issued this direction was, I was informed, for a considerable period chief executive authority of the district; and I heard him frequently spoken of by the natives who referred to him by the sobriquet he had earned in the district, “Widjima,” or “Darkness.”

The course of the Lulongo River below Bassakanusu to its junction with the Congo lies outside the limits of the A.B.I.R. Concession, and the region is, I believe, regarded as one of the free-trading districts wherein no exclusive right to the products of the soil is recognized. The only trading-house in this district is one termed the La Lulanga, which has three depôts, or factories, along the river bank, the principal of which is at Mampoko. This Company has a small steamer in which its native produce is collected, but the general transport of all its goods, as in the case of the Concession Societies, is performed by Government craft. The La Lulanga does not, I understand, enjoy the rights of police as defined by the Governor-General’s Circular of the 20th October, 1900, but it employs a considerable number of armed men equally termed “forest guards.” These men are quartered throughout the lower course of the Lulongo River, and I found that, as with the A.B.I.R., the sole duty they performed was to compel by force the collection of india-rubber or the supplies which each factory needed. As the district in which the La Lulanga Society carries on these operations is one that had already been subjected to still more comprehensive handling by two of the large Concession Companies, who only abandoned it when, as one of their agents informed me, it was nearly exhausted, the stock of rubber vines in it to-day is drawing to an end, and it is only with great difficulty that the natives are able to produce the quantity sufficient to satisfy their local masters. In the course of my dealings with the natives I found that several of the sentries of this Company had quite recently committed gross offences which, until my arrival, appeared to have gone undetected—certainly unpunished. Murder and mutilation were charged against several of them by name by the natives of certain townships close to the head-quarters of this Company, who sought me in the hope that I might help them. These people in several cases said that they had not complained elsewhere because they had felt that it was useless. As long as the rubber tax imposed upon them endured in its present compulsory form with the sanction of the authorities, they said it was idle to draw attention to acts which were but incidental to its collection. The La Lulanga Company, not any more than the A.B.I.R., would seem to have a legal right to levy taxes, but the fact remains that from the natives who supply these two trading Companies with all that they export as well as with their local supplies of food and material, the Congo Government itself requires no contribution to the public revenue. These people, therefore, must be either legally exempted from supporting the Government of their country, or else a portion of the contributions they make to the A.B.I.R. and Lulanga Companies must be claimed by that Government in lieu of the taxes it is justified in imposing on these districts.

In the case of the A.B.I.R. Society, it is said that a portion of the profits are paid into the public revenues of the Congo Government (who hold certain shares in the undertaking), and that these figure annually in the Budget as “produit de porte-feuille.” In making this explanation to me, an agent of one of the Upper Congo trading Companies said the term should more correctly be “produit de porte-fusil,” and to judge from the large numbers of armed men I saw employed, the correction was not inapposite.

The Concession Companies, I believe, account for the armed men in their service on the ground that their factories and agents must be protected against the possible violence of the rude forest dwellers with whom they deal; but this legitimate need for safeguarding European establishments does not suffice to account for the presence, far from those establishments, of large numbers of armed men quartered throughout the native villages, and who exercise upon their surroundings an influence far from protective. The explanation offered me of this state of things was that, as the “impositions” laid upon the natives were regulated by law, and were calculated on the scale of public labour the Government had a right to require of the people, the collection of these “impositions” had to be strictly enforced. When I pointed out that the profit of this system was not reaped by the Government, but by a commercial Company, and figured in the public returns of that Company’s affairs, as well as in the official Government statistics, as the outcome of commercial dealings with the natives, I was informed that the “impositions” were in reality trade, “for, as you observe, we pay the natives for the produce they bring in.” “But,” I observed, “you told me just now that these products did not belong to the natives, but to you, the Concessionnaire, who owned the soil; how, then, do you buy from them what is already yours?” “We do not buy the india-rubber. What we pay to the native is a remuneration for his labour in collecting our produce on our land, and bringing it to us.”

Since it was thus to the labour of the native alone that the profits of the Company were attributed, I inquired whether he was not protected by contract with his employer; but I was here referred back to the statement that the native performed these services as a public duty required of him by his Government. He was not a contracted labourer at all, but a free man, dwelling in his own home, and was simply acquitting himself of an “imposition” laid upon him by the Government, “of which we are but the collectors by right of our Concession.” “Your Concession, then, implies,” I said, “that you have been conceded not only a certain area of land, but also the people dwelling on that land?” This, however, was not accepted either, and I was assured that the people were absolutely free, and owed no service to any one but to the Government of the country. But there was no explanation offered to me that was not at once contradicted by the next. One said it was a tax, an obligatory burden laid upon the people, such as all Governments have the undoubted right of imposing; but this failed to explain how, if a tax, it came to be collected by the agents of a trading firm, and figured as the outcome of their trade dealings with the people, still less, how, if it were a tax, it could be justly imposed every week or fortnight in the year, instead of once, or at most, twice a year.

Another asserted that it was clearly legitimate commerce with the natives because these were well paid and very happy. He could not then explain the presence of so many armed men in their midst, or the reason for tying up men, women, and children, and of maintaining in each trading establishment a local prison, termed a “maison des otages,” wherein recalcitrant native traders endured long periods of confinement.

A third admitted that there was no law on the Congo Statute Book constituting his trading establishment a Government taxing station, and that since the product of his dealings with the natives figured in his Company’s balance-sheets as trade, and paid customs duty to the Government on export, and a dividend to the shareholders, and as he himself drew a commission of 2 per cent. on his turnover, it must be trade; but this exponent could not explain how, if these operations were purely commercial, they rested on a privilege denied to others, for since, as he asserted, the products of his district could neither be worked nor bought by any one but himself, it was clear they were not merchandise, which, to be merchandise, must be marketable. The summing up of the situation by the majority of those with whom I sought to discuss it was that, in fact, it was forced labour conceived in the true interest of the native, who, if not controlled in this way, would spend his days in idleness, unprofitable to himself and the general community. The collection of the products of the soil by the more benevolent methods adopted by the Trading Companies was, in any case, preferable to those the Congo Government would itself employ to compel obedience to this law, and therefore if I saw women and children seized as hostages and kept in detention until rubber or other things were brought in, it was better that this should be done by the cap-gun of the “forest guard” than by the Albini armed soldiers of the Government who, if once impelled into a district, would overturn the entire country side.

No more satisfactory explanation than this outline was anywhere offered me of what I saw in the A.B.I.R. and Lulanga districts. It is true alternatives of excuse with differing interpretations of what I saw were offered me in several quarters, but these were so obviously untrue, that they could not be admitted as having any real relation to the things which came before me.

At a village I touched at up the Lulonga River, a small collection of dwellings named Z*, the people complained that there was no rubber left in their district, and yet that the La Lulanga Company required of them each fortnight a fixed quantity they could not supply. Three forest guards of that Company were quartered, it was said, in this village, one of whom I found on duty, the two others, he informed me, having gone to Mampoko to convoy the fortnight’s rubber. No live-stock of any kind could be seen or purchased in this town, which had only a few years ago been a large and populous community, filled with people and well stocked with sheep, goats, ducks, and fowls. Although I walked through most of it, I could only count ten men with their families. There were said to be others in the part of the town I did not visit, but the entire community I saw were living in wretched houses and in most visible distress. Three months previously (in May, I believe), they said a Government force, commanded by a white man, had occupied their town owing to their failure to send in to the Mampoko head-quarters of the La Lulanga Company a regular supply of india-rubber, and two men, whose names were given, had been killed by the soldiers at that time.

As Z* lies upon the main stream of the Lulongo River, and is often touched at by passing steamers, I chose for the next inspection a town lying somewhat off this beaten track, where my coming would be quite unexpected. Steaming up a small tributary of the Lulongo, I arrived, unpreceded by any rumour of my coming, at the village of A**. In an open shed I found two sentries of the La Lulanga Company guarding fifteen native women, five of whom had infants at the breast, and three of whom were about to become mothers. The chief of these sentries, a man called S—who was bearing a double-barrelled shot-gun, for which he had a belt of cartridges—at once volunteered an explanation of the reason for these women’s detention. Four of them, he said, were hostages who were being held to insure the peaceful settlement of a dispute between two neighbouring towns, which had already cost the life of a man. His employer, the agent of the La Lulanga Company at B** near by, he said, had ordered these women to be seized and kept until the Chief of the offending town to which they belonged should come in to talk over the palaver. The sentry pointed out that this was evidently a much better way to settle such troubles between native towns than to leave them to be fought out among the people themselves.

The remaining eleven women, whom he indicated, he said he had caught and was detaining as prisoners to compel their husbands to bring in the right amount of india-rubber required of them on next market day. When I asked if it was a woman’s work to collect india-rubber, he said, “No; that, of course, it was man’s work.” “Then why do you catch the women and not the men?” I asked. “Don’t you see,” was the answer, “if I caught and kept the men, who would work the rubber? But if I catch their wives, the husbands are anxious to have them home again, and so the rubber is brought in quickly and quite up to the mark.” When I asked what would become of these women if their husbands failed to bring in the right quantity of rubber on the next market day, he said at once that then they would be kept there until their husbands had redeemed them. Their food, he explained, he made the Chief of A** provide, and he himself saw it given to them daily. They came from more than one village of the neighbourhood, he said, mostly from the Ngombi or inland country, where he often had to catch women to insure the rubber being brought in in sufficient quantity. It was an institution, he explained, that served well and saved much trouble. When his master came each fortnight to A** to take away the rubber so collected, if it was found to be sufficient, the women were released and allowed to return with their husbands, but if not sufficient they would undergo continued detention. The sentry’s statements were clear and explicit, as were equally those of several of the villagers with whom I spoke. The sentry further explained, in answer to my inquiry, that he caught women in this way by direction of his employers. That it was a custom generally adopted and found to work well; that the people were very lazy, and that this was much the simplest way of making them do what was required of them. When asked if he had any use for his shot-gun, he answered that it had been given him by the white man “to frighten people and make them bring in rubber,” but that he had never otherwise used it. I found that the two sentries at A** were complete masters of the town. Everything I needed in the way of food or firewood they at once ordered the men of the town to bring me. One of them, gun over shoulder, marched a procession of men—the Chief of the village at their head—down to the water side, each carrying a bundle of firewood for my steamer. A few chickens which were brought were only purchased through their intermediary, the native owner in each case handing the fowl over to the sentry, who then brought it on board, bargained for it, and took the price agreed upon. When, in the evening, the Chief of the village was invited to come and talk to me, he came in evident fear of the sentries seeing him or overhearing his remarks, and the leader, S, finding him talking to me, peremptorily broke into the conversation and himself answered each question put to the Chief. When I asked this latter if he and his townsmen did not catch fish in the C** River, in which we learned there was much, the sentry, intervening, said it was not the business of these people to catch fish—“they have no time for that, they have got to get the rubber I tell them to.”

At nightfall the fifteen women in the shed were tied together, either neck to neck or ankle to ankle, to secure them for the night, and in this posture I saw them twice during the evening. They were then trying to huddle around a fire. In the morning the leading sentry, before leaving the village, ordered his companion in my hearing to “keep close guard on the prisoners.” I subsequently discovered that this sentry, learning that I was not, as he had at first thought, a missionary, had gone or sent to inform his employer at C** that a strange white man was in the town.

An explanation of what I had witnessed at A** was later preferred by the representative of this Company for my information, but was in such direct conflict with what I had myself observed that it could not be accepted either as explaining the detention of the women I had seen tied neck to neck, or as a refutation of the statements of the sentry, made to me at a time when he had no thought that his avowals had any bearing on his employer’s interests.

From A** I proceeded to Bongandanga, a station of the A.B.I.R. Company which lies some 120 or 130 miles up the Lopori, a tributary of the Lulongo, and only halted for very brief periods en route. I arrived at Bongandanga on the 29th August when what was locally termed the rubber market was in full swing. The natives of the surrounding country are, on these market days, which are held at intervals of a fortnight, marched in under a number of armed guards, each native carrying his fortnight’s supply of india-rubber for delivery to the agent of the Company. During my stay at Bongandanga I had frequent occasion to meet the two agents of this Society, who received me with every kindness and hospitality.

The A.B.I.R. station was well built and well cared for, and gave evidence of unremitting industry on the part of those in charge of it. There were two good houses for the European staff and a number of large well-built bamboo stores for the storing and drying of india-rubber. All the houses were constructed of native materials, indeed, with the exception of a small stock of barter goods in one of the stores and the European provisions required for the white men, everything I saw came from the surrounding district, provided in one form or another by its native inhabitants. This applies to practically every European establishment in the interior of the country, the only differences being as to the manner in which the help of the natives may be sought and recompensed. Building material of all kinds from very heavy timber to roofing mats and native string to tie these on with are provided by the natives; but their services in supplying these indispensable adjuncts to civilized existence do not appear to be everywhere equally remunerated. At Bongandanga I saw thirty-three large tree trunks, each of which could not have weighed less than 1/2 a ton, some of them nearer 1 ton, which, I was told, had been felled and carried in by the natives for his use in building a new house. He explained that as the natives came in from different districts fortnightly, and then had only to carry very small baskets of india-rubber, this additional burden was imposed upon them, but that this was one reserved for unwilling workers of india-rubber. It was, in fact, one of the punishments for backward “récolteurs.”

At Bongandanga the men of the district named E**, distant about 20 miles, had been brought in with the rubber from that district. They marched in in a long file, guarded by sentries of the A.B.I.R. Company, and when I visited the factory grounds to observe the progress of the “market,” I was informed by the local agent that there were 242 men actually present. As each man was required, I was told, to bring in 3 kilog. nett of rubber, the quantity actually brought in on that occasion should have yielded about three-quarters of a ton of pure rubber. The rubber brought by each man, after being weighed and found correct, was taken off to be cut up in a large store, and then placed out on drying shelves in other stores. As considerable loss of weight arises in the drying to obtain 3 kilog. nett a dead weight of crude rubber considerably in excess of that quantity must be brought in. There were everywhere sentries in the A.B.I.R. grounds, guarding and controlling the natives, many of whom carried their knives and spears. The sentries were often armed with rifles, some of them with several cartridges slipped between the fingers of the hands ready for instant use; others had cap-guns, with a species of paper cartridge locally manufactured for charging this form of muzzle-loader. The native vendors of the rubber were guarded in detachments or herds, many of them behind a barricade which stretched in front of a house I was told was the factory prison, termed locally, I found, the “maison des otages.” The rubber as brought up by each man under guard, was weighed by one of the two agents of the A.B.I.R. present, who sat upon the verandah of his house. If the rubber were found to be of the right weight its vendor would be led off with it to the cutting up store or to one of the drying stores. In the former were fully 80 or 100 natives who had already passed muster, squatting on raised cane platforms, busily cutting up into the required sizes the rubber which had been passed and accepted. At the corners of these platforms stood, or equally squatted, sentries of the A.B.I.R. with their rifles ready.

In another store where rubber was being dried seven natives came in while I was inspecting it carrying baskets which were filled with the cut-up rubber, which they then at once began sorting and spreading on high platforms. These seven men were guarded by four sentries armed with rifles.

Somewhat differing explanations were offered me of the reasons for the constant guarding of the natives I observed during the course of the “market.” This was first said to be a necessary precaution to insure tranquillity and order within the trading factory during the presence there of so many raw and sturdy savages. But when I drew attention to the close guard kept upon the natives in the drying and cutting sheds, I was told that these were “prisoners.” If the rubber brought by its native vendor were found on the weighing machine to be seriously under the required weight, the defaulting individual was detained to be dealt with in the “maison des otages.” One such case occurred while I was on the ground. The defaulter was directed to be taken away, and was dragged off by some of the sentries, who forced him on to the ground to remain until the market was over. While being held by these men he struggled to escape, and one of them struck him in the mouth whence blood issued, and he then remained passive. I did not learn how this individual subsequently purged his offence, but when on a later occasion I visited the inclosure in front of the prison I counted fifteen men and youths who were being guarded while they worked at mat-making for the use of the station buildings. These men, I was then told, were some of the defaulters of the previous market day, who were being kept as compulsory workmen to make good the deficiency in their rubber.

Payments made to the rubber-bringers, depending on the quantity brought, consisted of knives, matchets, strings of beads, and sometimes a little salt. I saw many men who got a wooden handled knife of Sheffield cutlery, good and strong—others got a matchet. The largest of these knives with a 9-inch blade, and the smaller with a 5-inch, cost in Europe, I find, 2s. 10d., and 1s. 5d. per dozen respectively, less 2-1/2 per cent. cash discount. The men who got the knife of the larger kind, or a matchet, had brought in, I understood, a full basket of pure rubber, which may have represented a European valuation of some 27 fr. To the original cost of one of these knives, say 2-3/4d., should be added fully 100 per cent. to cover transport charges, so that their local cost would be about 6d. Among the natives themselves these knives pass at 25 rods (1·25 fr.) and 15 rods (75 centimes) each. From two of these rubber workers I later purchased two of these knives, giving twenty-five teaspoonfuls of salt for the larger, and six teaspoonfuls with an empty bottle for the smaller. From a third member of their party, whose payment had consisted of a string of thirty-nine blue and white glass beads (locally valued at 5 rods), I bought his fortnight’s salary for five teaspoonfuls of salt. This youth, indeed, confessed that his basket of rubber had not been so well filled as those of the others.

I went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out their circumstances. To get the rubber they had first to go fully a two days’ journey from their homes, leaving their wives, and being absent for from five to six days. They were seen to the forest limits under guard, and if not back by the sixth day trouble was likely to ensue. To get the rubber in the forests—which generally speaking are very swampy—involves much fatigue and often fruitless searching for a well-flowing vine. As the area of supply diminishes, moreover, the demand for rubber constantly increases. Some little time back I learned the Bongandanga district supplied 7 tons of rubber a-month, a quantity which it was hoped would shortly be increased to 10 tons. The quantity of rubber brought by the three men in question would have represented, probably, for the three of them certainly not less than 7 kilog. of pure rubber. That would be a very safe estimate, and at an average of 7 fr. per kilog. they might be said to have brought in 2l. worth of rubber. In return for this labour, or imposition, they had received goods which cost certainly under 1s., and whose local valuation came to 45 rods (1s. 10d.). As this process repeats itself twenty-six times a-year, it will be seen that they would have yielded 52l. in kind at the end of the year to the local factory, and would have received in return some 24s. or 25s. worth of goods, which had a market value on the spot of 2l. 7s. 8d. In addition to these formal payments they were liable at times to be dealt with in another manner, for should their work, which might have been just as hard, have proved less profitable in its yield of rubber, the local prison would have seen them. The people everywhere assured me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth.

In September I visited a native village called D**, situated some miles from the A.B.I.R. factory at Bongandanga. I went there to see one of the natives, who, with his wife and little children, had come to visit me. My going to his town was solely a friendly visit to this man’s household, since I was told that he was an excellent character, and one who set a good example to his countrymen. On the way, at some 4 or 5 miles only from the A.B.I.R. factory, I passed through a part of D** (which is a very long town) where were several sentries of the A.B.I.R. Society. One of these had a 6-chamber revolver loaded with six 4·50 Ely cartridges—doubtless given, like the shot-gun at A**, for intimidation rather than for actual use. Another sentry present had only his cap-gun. He said there were in this one village six sentries of the A.B.I.R., but that the other four had just gone into Bongandanga guarding some prisoners. These were, it was explained to me, some of the natives of the country side who had not brought in what was thought to be a sufficiency of india-rubber. A little further on I met two more sentries of the A.B.I.R. in this town. Coming home from D** by another road I found two other sentries apparently acting as judges and settling a “palaver” among the natives, this being one of the commonest uses to which these men put their authority in their own interest, levying blackmail and interfering in the domestic concerns of the natives by compelling payment for their “judicial” decisions.

The following day my host at D** came in to say that the sentries were making trouble with him on account of my visit of the previous day, declaring that they would inform the agent of the A.B.I.R. that he and others had told me lies about their treatment by that Company, and that they would all be put in the prison gang and sent away out of their country. That evening C E spoke to me of my visit to D** of the previous day, assuring me that the natives were all liars and rogues. The fact that I had personally gone to see a native community, theoretically as free as I was myself, and that I had spoken at first hand to some of these natives themselves, caused, I could not but perceive, considerable annoyance.

That the fears of my native host were not entirely groundless I subsequently learned by letter from Bongandanga, wherein I was informed that two of his wives and one of the children I had seen had fled in the middle of the night for refuge to the Mission evangelist—the sentries quartered at D** having arrested my friend at midnight, and that he had been brought in a prisoner to the A.B.I.R. factory.

As to the condition of the men who paid by detention in the “maison des otages” their shortcomings in respect of rubber, I was assured by the local agent that they were not badly treated and that “they got their food.” On the other hand, I was assured in many quarters that flogging with the chicotte—or hippopotamus-hide whip—was one of the measures used in dealing with refractory natives in that institution. I was told that men have frequently been seen coming away from the factory, after the rubber markets, who had been flogged, and that on two occasions this year, the last of them in March, two natives had been so severely flogged that they were being carried away by their friends.

The A.B.I.R. Society effectually controls the movements of the natives both by water as well as by land. Since almost every village in the Concession is under control, its male inhabitants are entered in books, and according to age and strength have to furnish rubber or, in the villages close to the factory, food-stuffs, such as antelope meat or wild pig (which the elders are required to hunt), as also the customary kwanga bread, or bananas, and fowls and ducks. An agent showed me some of these village lists, during the purchasing of the rubber, of the 242 E** men, explaining that the impositions against the individuals named are fixed by the Government, and are calculated on the bodily service each man owes it, but from which he is exempted in the Concession in order to work rubber and assist the progressive development of the A.B.I.R. Company’s territory. He added that it was not the few guns he disposed of at F** which compelled obedience to this law, but the power of the Congo State “Force Publique,” which, if a village absolutely refuses obedience, would be sent to punish the district to compel respect to these civilized rights. He added that, as the punishment inflicted in these cases was terribly severe, it was better that the milder measures and the other expedients he was forced to resort to should not be interfered with. These measures, he said, involved frequent imprisonment of individuals in his local “house of hostages.” A truly recalcitrant man, he said, who proved enduringly obstinate in his failure to bring in his allotted share of rubber, would in the end be brought to reason by these means. He would find, I was assured, as a result of his perversity that the whole of his time must be spent either in the prison or else in being marched under guard between it and his native town. Terms of fifteen days, from “market” day to “market” day, were the usual period of detention, and generally proved sufficient—during which time the prisoners worked around the factory—but longer periods were not at all unknown. My informant added that an excellent project for dealing with obstinate opponents to the rubber industry had recently been mooted, but had not been carried into practice. This was to transport to the Upper Lopori, or the Upper Maringa, far from their homes and tribes, such men as could not be reclaimed by milder methods. In these distant regions they would have no chance of running away, but would be kept under constant guard and at constant work. This proposal had, however, been disapproved of by the local authorities. In one town I visited, the Chief and some thirty people gave me the names of several men of the town who had, about eighteen months previously, been transported in this manner to G**, an A.B.I.R. post, some 340 miles by water from Bongandanga. Three, whose names were stated, had already died, only two had returned, the others being still detained.

Deaths even in the local prison are not, however, unknown. I heard of several. The late Chief of H**, a town I visited with the agent of the A.B.I.R. station had died some months before as the result, it was said, of imprisonment. He had been arrested because another man of the town had not brought in antelope meat when required. After one and a-half months’ imprisonment the Chief was released. He was then so weak that he could not walk the 2 miles home to H**, but collapsed on the way and died early the following morning. This was on the 14th June last.

On the September a man named T came to see me. He had been very badly wounded in the thigh, and walked with difficulty. He stated that a sentry of the A.B.I.R., a man named U, had shot him, as I saw; and at the same time had killed V, a friend. The sentries had come to arrest the Chief of H** on account of meat, which was short for the white man—not the present white man, but another—and his people had gathered around the Chief to protect him. An inquiry I gathered had been held by a Law Officer into this and other outrages committed the previous year, and as a result the sentry U had been removed from the district. T went on to say to me that this sentry was now back in the country at large, and a free man. When I asked him if he himself had not been compensated for the injuries entailing partial disablement he had received, he said: “Four months ago I was arrested for not having got meat, and was kept one and a-half months in prison on that account. U, who killed V, and shot me here in the thigh, is a free man, as all men know; but I, who am wounded, have to hunt meat.”

This statement I found on fuller inquiry in other quarters was confirmed; and it became apparent that while the murderer was at large, one of those he had seriously injured, and almost incapacitated, was still required to hunt game, and paid for his failure by imprisonment. On further inquiry, I gathered that this occasion was the only one locally known when a qualified Law Officer had ever visited the Lopori, although charges from that region involving very grave accusations had, on several occasions, been preferred. There being no Magistrate resident in the whole of the A.B.I.R. Concession, inquiries, unless conducted by the agents of the A.B.I.R. themselves, have to be investigated at Coquilhatville—distant fully 270 miles from Bongandanga, and over 400 miles from some parts of the Concession.

It is true an officer of the Congo Executive is deputed to exercise a qualified surveillance within this Concession; but he is not a qualified Magistrate or legally empowered to act as such.

The occupant of this post is a military officer of inferior rank, who is quartered, with a force of soldiers, near to Bassankusu, the chief station of the A.B.I.R. Company.

This officer, when he enters the A.B.I.R. territory, is accompanied by soldiers, and his actions would appear to be generally confined to measures of a punitive kind, the necessity for such measures being that which almost everywhere applies—namely, a refusal of or falling off in the supplies of india-rubber.

At the date of my visit to the Lopori he was engaged in a journey, not unconnected with fighting, to the Maringa River. His independence is not complete, nor is his disassociation from the A.B.I.R. Company’s agencies as marked as, in view of the circumstances attending the collection of rubber, it should be.

His journeys up the two great rivers, the Maringa and Lopori, which drain the A.B.I.R. territory, are made on the steamers of that Company, and he is, to all intents, a guest of the Company’s agents.

The supervision of this officer extends also over the course of the Lulongo river, outside the A.B.I.R. Concession, and he it was who had occupied the town of Z* on an occasion some months before my visit, when two native men had been killed.

The Commissaire-Général of the Equator District has also, at recent periods, visited the A.B.I.R. Concession, but this officer, although the Chief of the Executive and the President of the Territorial Court of the entire district, came as a visitor to the A.B.I.R. stations and as guest on the steamer of that Company.

No steamer belonging to the Congo Government regularly ascends either the Lopori or Maringa rivers, and the conveyance of mails from the A.B.I.R. territory depends, for steamer transport, on the two vessels of that Company.

On the 15th June last, the Director of this Company by letter informed the Missions of Bongandanga and Baringa that he had given orders to the steamers of the Company to refuse the carriage of any letters or correspondence coming from or intended for either of those Mission stations, which are the only European establishments, not belonging to the A.B.I.R. Company, existing within the limits of the Concession.

Resulting from this order the missionaries at these two isolated posts are now compelled, save when, some three times a year, the Mission steamer visits them, to dispatch all their correspondence by canoes to their agent at Tkau, lying just outside the Concession.

This involves the engagement of paddlers and a canoe journey of 120 to 130 miles from each of these Missions down to Tkau.

But as the A.B.I.R. Company claims a right to interrogate all canoes passing up or down stream, this mode of transport leaves some elements of insecurity, apart from the delay and inconvenience otherwise entailed.

At the date of my visit to the Concession, the Mission at Baringa, situated 120 miles up the Maringa river, had despatched a canoe manned by native dependents with mails intended for the outer world—the nearest post office being at Coquilhatville, some 260 miles distant.

When seeking to pass the A.B.I.R. station at Waka, situated half-way down the Maringa river, this canoe was required by the European agent there to land and to deliver to him its correspondence.

The native canoe men reported that this agent had opened the packet and questioned them, and that the letters intrusted to them for delivery to the Mission representative at Tkau were not restored to them without delay and much inconvenience.

It might not be too much to expect that, in return for the very extensive privileges it enjoys of exploitation of public lands and a large native population, the A.B.I.R. Company should be required, in the entire absence of the public flotilla, to discharge the not onerous task of conveying the public mails by its steamers which so frequently navigate the waterways of the Concession in the collection of india-rubber.

Were a qualified Magistrate appointed to reside within the limits of this Concession—as within the other Upper Congo Concessions, some of them territories as large as a European State, and still containing a numerous native population—the public service could not but be the gainer.

As it is to-day, no Court is open to the appeals of these people that lies at all within their reach, and no European agency, save isolated Mission stations, has any direct influence upon them except that immediately interested in their profitable exploitation.

It is only right to say that the present agent of the A.B.I.R. Society I met at Bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as possible, and within the limits of his duties, the evils of the system I there observed at work.

The requisitions of food-stuffs laid on the villages adjoining the factories were said to be less onerous than those affecting the rubber towns. They rested, I was informed, on the same legal basis as that authorizing rubber working, and a failure to meet them involved the same desultory modes of arrest and imprisonment. During my stay at Bongandanga several instances of arrest in failures of this kind came to my notice.

On a Sunday in August, I saw six of the local sentries going back with cap-guns and ammunition pouches to E**, after the previous day’s market, and later in the day, when in the factory grounds, two armed sentries came up to the agent as we walked, guarding sixteen natives, five men tied neck by neck, with five untied women and six young children. This somewhat embarrassing situation, it was explained to me, was due to the persistent failure of the people of the village these persons came from to supply its proper quota of food. These people, I was told, had just been captured “on the river” by one of the sentries placed there to watch the waterway. They had been proceeding in their canoes to some native fishing grounds, and were espied and brought in. I asked if the children also were held responsible for food supplies, and they, along with an elderly woman, were released, and told to run over to the Mission, and go to school there. This they did not do, but doubtless returned to their homes in the recalcitrant village. The remaining five men and four women were led off to the “maison des otages” under guard of the sentry.

An agent explained that he was forced to catch women in preference to the men as then supplies were brought in quicker; but he did not explain how the children deprived of their parents obtained their own food supplies.

He deplored this hard necessity, but he said the vital needs of his own station, as well as of the local missionaries, who, being guests of the A.B.I.R. Society, had to be provided for, sternly imposed it upon him if the peopled failed to keep up their proper supplies.

While we thus talked an armed sentry came along guarding four natives—men—who were carrying bunches of bananas, a part of another food imposition. This sentry explained to his master that the village he had just visited had failed to give antelope meat, alleging the very heavy rain of the previous night as an excuse for not hunting.

The agent apologized to me for his inability to give me meat during my stay, pointing out the obvious necessity he now was under of catching some persons without delay. He should certainly, he said, have to send out and catch women that very night.

On leaving the A.B.I.R. grounds, still accompanied by this gentleman, another batch of men carrying food supplies were marched in by three armed guards, and were conducted towards the “maison des otages,” which two other sentries apparently guarded.

At 8 P.M. that evening, just after the Sunday service, a number of women were taken through the Mission grounds past the church by the A.B.I.R. sentries, and in the morning I was told that three such seizures had been effected during the night. On the 2nd September I met, when walking in the A.B.I.R. grounds with the subordinate agent of the factory, a file of fifteen women, under the guard of three unarmed sentries, who were being brought in from the adjoining villages, and were led past me. These women, who were evidently wives and mothers, it was explained in answer to my inquiry, had been seized in order to compel their husbands to bring in antelope or other meat which was overdue, and some of which it was very kindly promised should be sent on board my steamer when leaving. As a matter of fact, half an antelope was so sent on board by the good offices of this gentleman.

As I was leaving Bongandanga, on the 3rd September, several elderly Headmen of the neighbouring villages were putting off in their canoes to the opposite forest, to get meat wherewith to redeem their wives, whom I had seen arrested the previous day. I learned later that the husband of one of these women brought in, two days afterwards, to the Mission-station, his infant daughter, who, being deprived of her mother, had fallen seriously ill, and whom he could not feed. At the request of the missionary this woman was released on the 5th September. I took occasion to say to the agent of the A.B.I.R. Company, before leaving, that the practice of imprisoning women for impositions said to be due by their husbands was to my mind unquestionably illegal, and that I should not fail to draw the attention of the Governor-General of the Congo State to what I had seen. The excuse offered, both on this occasion as on others when I had ventured to allude to the condition of the natives around Bongandanga, was that the station compared most favourably with all others within the A.B.I.R. Concession, which were run, I was assured, on much sterner lines than those which caused me pain at Bongandanga. I later made official communication to the local Government at Boma on these points, in so far as the system I had seen at work affected the English missionaries within the A.B.I.R. Concession, and in that letter I sought to show that neither the local agent nor his subordinate were responsible for a state of affairs which greatly wounded the feelings of my countrymen at Bongandanga, and which had filled me with a pained surprise. My attention, it was true, had been drawn to the systematic imprisonment of women in parts of the Upper Congo some two years previously, in a case wherein a British coloured subject—a native of Lagos—along with three Europeans, all of them in the service of the Compagnie Anversoise du Commerce au Congo—a Concession Company—had been charged with various acts of cruelty and oppression which had caused much loss of life to the natives in the Mongala region. These men had been arrested by the authorities in the summer of 1900, and had been sentenced to long terms of imprisonment, against which they had made appeal. The facts charged against the British coloured subject (who sought my help) were, among others, that he had illegally arrested women and kept them in illegal detention at his trading station, and it was alleged that many of these women had died of starvation while thus confined. This man himself, when I had visited him in Boma gaol in March 1901, said that more than 100 women and children had died of starvation at his hands, but that the responsibility for both their arrest and his own lack of food to give them was due to his superiors’ orders and neglect. The Court of Appeal at Boma gave final Judgment in the case on the 13th February, 1901; and in connection with the Lagos man’s degree of guilt, a copy of this Judgment, in so far as it affected him, at my request had been communicated to me by the Governor-General. From this Judgment I learned that the case against the accused had been clearly proved. Among other extenuating circumstances, which secured, however, a marked reduction of the first sentence imposed on the coloured man, the Court of Appeal cited the following:—

“That it is just to take into account that, by the correspondence produced in the case, the chiefs of the Concession Company have, if not by formal orders, at least by their example and their tolerance, induced their agents to take no account whatever of the rights, property, and lives of the natives; to use the arms and the soldiers which should have served for their defence and the maintenance of order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work for the Company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... That, above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the region.”

I had gathered at the time of this finding of the Boma High Court that steps had then been taken to make it everywhere effective and to insure obedience to the law in this respect, and that a recurrence of the illegalities brought to light in the Mongala region had been rendered impossible in any part of the Congo State. From what I saw during the few days spent in the A.B.I.R. Concession, and again outside its limits in the Lower Lulongo, it seemed to be clear that the action taken by the authorities nearly three years ago could not have produced the results undoubtedly then desired.

On my leaving Bongandanga on the 3rd September I returned down the Lopori and Lulongo Rivers, arriving at J**. The following day, about 9 at night, some natives of the neighbourhood came to see me, bringing with them a lad of about 16 years of age whose right hand was missing. His name was X and his relatives said they came from K**, a village on the opposite side of the river some few miles away. As it was late at night there was some difficulty in obtaining a translation of their statements, but I gathered that X’s hand had been cut off in K** by a sentry of the La Lulanga Company, who was, or had been, quartered there. They said that this sentry, at the time that he had mutilated X, had also shot dead one of the chief men of the town. X, in addition to this mutilation, had been shot in the shoulder blade, and, as a consequence, was deformed. On being shot it was said he had fallen down insensible, and the sentry had then cut off his hand, alleging that he would take it to the Director of the Company at Mampoko. When I asked if this had been done the natives replied that they believed that the hand had only been carried part of the way to Mampoko and then thrown away. They did not think the white man had seen it. They went on to say that they had not hitherto made any complaint of this. They declared they had seen no good object in complaining of a case of this kind since they did not hope any good would result to them. They then went on to say that a younger boy than X, at the beginning of this year (as near as they could fix the date at either the end of January or the beginning of February), had been mutilated in a similar way by a sentry of the same trading Company, who was still quartered in their town, and that when they had wished to bring this latter victim with them the sentry had threatened to kill him and that the boy was now in hiding. They begged that I would myself go back with them to their village and ascertain that they were speaking the truth. I thought it my duty to listen to this appeal, and decided to return with them on the morrow to their town. In the morning, when about to start for K**, many people from the surrounding country came in to see me. They brought with them three individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a very small boy, not more than 6 years of age, and a fourth—a boy child of 6 or 7—whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. One of the men, who had been shot through the arm, declared that he was Y of L**, a village situated some miles away. He declared that he had been shot as I saw under the following circumstances: the soldiers had entered his town, he alleged, to enforce the due fulfilment of the rubber tax due by the community. These men had tied him up and said that unless he paid 1,000 brass rods to them they would shoot him. Having no rods to give them they had shot him through the arm and had left him. The soldiers implicated he said were four whose names were given me. They were, he believed, all employés of the La Lulanga Company and had come from Mampoko. At the time when he, Y, was shot through the arm the Chief of his town came up and begged the soldiers not to hurt him, but one of them, a man called Z, shot the Chief dead. No white man was with these sentries, or soldiers, at the time. Two of them, Y said, he believed had been sent or taken to Coquilhatville. Two of them—whom he named—he said were still at Mampoko. The people of L** had sent to tell the white man at Mampoko of what his soldiers had done. He did not know what punishment, if any, the soldiers had received, for no inquiry had since been made in L**, nor had any persons in that town been required to testify against their aggressors. This man was accompanied by four other men of his town. These four men all corroborated Y’s statement.

These people were at once followed by two men of M**, situated, they said, close to K**, and only a few miles distant. They brought with them a full-grown man named A A, whose arm was shattered and greatly swollen through the discharge of a gun, and a small boy named B B, whose left arm was broken in two places from two separate gun shots—the wrist being shattered and the hand wobbling about loose and quite useless. The two men made the following statement: That their town, like all the others in the neighbourhood, was required to furnish a certain quantity of india-rubber fortnightly to the head-quarters of the La Lulanga Company at Mampoko; that at the time these outrages were committed, which they put at less than a year previously, a man named C C was a sentry of that Company quartered in their village; that they two now before me had taken the usual fortnight’s rubber to Mampoko. On returning to M** they found that C C, the sentry, had shot dead two men of the town named D D and E E, and had tied up this man A A and the boy B B, now before me, to two trees. The sentry said that this was to punish the two men for having taken the rubber to Mampoko without having first shown it to him and paid him a commission on it. The two men asserted that they had at once returned to Mampoko, and had begged the Director of the Company to return with them to M** and see what his servants had done. But, they alleged, he had refused to comply with their request. On getting back to their town they then found that the man A A and the child B B were still tied to the trees, and had been shot in the arms as I now saw. On pleading with the sentry to release these two wounded individuals, he had required a payment of 2,000 brass rods (100 fr.). One of the two men stayed to collect this money, and another returned to Mampoko to again inform the Director of what had been done. The two men declared that nothing was done to the sentry C C, but that the white man said that if the people behaved badly again he was to punish them. The sentry C C, they declared, remained some time longer in M**, and they do not now know where he is.

These people were immediately followed by a number of natives who came before me bringing a small boy of not more than 7 years of age, whose right hand was gone at the wrist. This child, whose name was F F, they had brought from the village of N**. They stated that some years ago (they could not even approximately fix the date save by indicating that F F was only just able to run) N** had been attacked by several sentries of the La Lulanga Company. This was owing to their failure in supplying a sufficiency of india-rubber. They did not know whether these sentries had been sent by any European, but they knew all their names, and the Chief of them was one called G G. G G had shot dead the Chief of their town, and the people had run into the forest. The sentries pursued them, and G G had knocked down the child F F with the butt of his gun and had then cut off his hand. They declared that the hand of the dead man and of this boy F F had then been carried away by the sentries. The sentries who did this belonged to the La Lulanga Company’s factory at O**. The man who appeared with F F went on to say that they had never complained about it, save to the white man who had then been that Company’s agent at O**. They had not thought of complaining to the Commissaire of the district. Not only was he far away, but they were afraid they would not be believed, and they thought the white men only wished for rubber, and that no good could come of pleading with them.

At the same time a number of men followed, with the request that I would listen to them. W declared that their town P**, which had formerly been on the north bank of the X** River (where I had myself seen it), had now been transferred by force to the south bank, close to the factory at Q**. He said that this act of compulsory transference was the direct act of the Commissaire-Général of the... district. The Commissaire had visited P** on his steamer, and had ordered the people of that town to work daily at Q** for the La Lulanga factory. W had replied that it was too far for the women of P** to go daily to Q** as was required; but the Commissaire, in reply, had taken fifty women and carried them away with him. The women were taken to Q**. Two men were taken at the same time. To get these women back, W went on to say, he and his people had to pay a fine of 10,000 brass rods (500 fr.). They had paid this money to the Commissaire-Général himself. They had then been ordered by the Commissaire to abandon their town, since it lay too far from the factory, and build a fresh town close to Q**, so that they might be at hand for the white man’s needs. This they had been forced to do—many of them were taken across by force. It was about two years ago W thought that this deportation had been effected, and they now came to beg that I would use my influence with the local authorities to permit their return to their abandoned home. Where they were now situated close to Q** they were most unhappy, and they only desired to be allowed to return to the former site of P**. They have to take daily to Q** the following:—

10 baskets gum-copal.
1,000 long canes (termed “ngodji”), which grow in the swamps, and are
used in thatching and roofing.
500 bamboos for building.

Each week they are required to deliver at the factory—

200 rations of kwanga.
120 rations of fish.

In addition, fifty women are required each morning to go to the factory and work there all day. They complained that the remuneration given for these services was most inadequate, and that they were continually beaten. When I asked the Chief W why he had not gone to D F to complain if the sentries beat him or his people, opening his mouth he pointed to one of the teeth which was just dropping out, and said: “That is what I got from the D F four days ago when I went to tell him what I now say to you.” He added that he was frequently beaten, along with others of his people, by the white man.

One of the men with him, who gave his name as H H, said that two weeks ago the white man at Q** had ordered him to serve as one of the porters of his hammock on a journey he proposed taking inland. H H was then just completing the building of a new house, and excused himself on this ground, but offered to fetch a friend as a substitute. The Director of the Company had, in answer to this excuse, burnt down his house, alleging that he was insolent. He had had a box of cloth and some ducks in the house—in fact, all his goods, and they were destroyed in the fire. The white man then caused him to be tied up, and took him with him inland, and loosed him when he had to carry the hammock.

Other people were waiting, desirous of speaking with me, but so much time was taken in noting the statements already made that I had to leave, if I hoped to reach K** at a reasonable hour. I proceeded in a canoe across the Lulongo and up a tributary to a landing-place which seemed to be about... miles from I**. Here, leaving the canoes, we walked for a couple of miles through a flooded forest to reach the village. I found here a sentry of the La Lulanga Company and a considerable number of natives. After some little delay a boy of about 15 years of age appeared, whose left arm was wrapped up in a dirty rag. Removing this, I found the left hand had been hacked off by the wrist, and that a shot hole appeared in the fleshy part of the forearm. The boy, who gave his name as I I, in answer to my inquiry, said that a sentry of the La Lulanga Company now in the town had cut off his hand. I proceeded to look for this man, who at first could not be found, the natives to a considerable number gathering behind me as I walked through the town. After some delay the sentry appeared, carrying a cap-gun. The boy, whom I placed before him, then accused him to his face of having mutilated him. The men of the town, who were questioned in succession, corroborated the boy’s statement. The sentry, who gave his name as K K, could make no answer to the charge. He met it by vaguely saying some other sentry of the Company had mutilated I I; his predecessor, he said, had cut off several hands, and probably this was one of the victims. The natives around said that there were two other sentries at present in the town, who were not so bad as K K, but that he was a villain. As the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, I informed him and the people present that I should appeal to the local authorities for his immediate arrest and trial. In the course of my interrogatory several other charges transpired against him. These were of a minor nature, consisting of the usual characteristic acts of blackmailing, only too commonly reported on all sides. One man said that K K had tied up his wife and only released her on payment of 1,000 rods. Another man said that K K had robbed him of two ducks and a dog. These minor offences K K equally demurred to, and again said that I I had been mutilated by some other sentry, naming several. I took the boy back with me and later brought him to Coquilhatville, where he formally charged K K with the crime, alleging to the Commandant, who took his statement, through a special Government interpreter, in my presence, that it had been done “on account of rubber.” I have since been informed that, acting on my request, the authorities at Coquilhatville had arrested K K, who presumably will be tried in due course. A copy of my notes taken in K**, where I I charged K K before me, is appended (Inclosure 6).18

It was obviously impossible that I should visit all the villages of the natives who came to beg me to do so at J** or elsewhere during my journey, or to verify on the spot, as in the case of the boy, the statements they made. In that one case the truth of the charges preferred was amply demonstrated, and their significance was not diminished by the fact that, whereas this act of mutilation had been committed within a few miles of Q**, the head-quarters of a European civilizing agency, and the guilty man was still in their midst, armed with the gun with which he had first shot his victim (for which he could produce no licence when I asked for it, saying it was his employers’), no one of the natives of the terrorized town had attempted to report the occurrence. They had in the interval visited Mampoko each fortnight with the india-rubber from their district. There was also in their midst another mutilated boy X, whose hand had been cut off either by this or another sentry. The main waterway of the Lulongo River lay at their doors, and on it well nigh every fortnight a Government steamer had passed up and down stream on its way to bring the india-rubber of the A.B.I.R. Company to Coquilhatville. They possessed, too, some canoes; and, if all other agencies of relief were closed, the territorial tribunal at Coquilhatville lay open to them, and the journey to it down stream from their village could have been accomplished in some twelve hours. It was no greater journey, indeed, than many of the towns I had elsewhere visited were forced to undertake each week or fortnight to deliver supplies to their local tax collectors. The fact that no effort had been made by these people to secure relief from their unhappy situation impelled me to believe that a very real fear of reporting such occurrences actually existed among them. That everything asserted by such a people, under such circumstances, is strictly true I should in no wise assert. That discrepancies must be found in much alleged by such rude savages, to one whose sympathies they sought to awaken, must equally be admitted. But the broad fact remained that their previous silence said more than their present speech. In spite of contradictions, and even seeming misstatements, it was clear that these men were stating either what they had actually seen with their eyes or firmly believed in their hearts. No one viewing their unhappy surroundings or hearing their appeals, no one at all cognizant of African native life or character, could doubt that they were speaking, in the main, truly; and the unhappy conviction was forced upon me that in the many forest towns behind the screen of trees, which I could not visit, these people were entitled to expect that a civilized administration should be represented among them by other agents than the savages euphemistically termed “forest guards.”

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 by themselves 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 Book which 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, re price 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.

Inclosure 1 in No. 3

(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 posts did 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 few hours. 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.”

Inclosure 2 in No. 3

(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 during the 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 the land 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 eating together 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

(B.)

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 same place 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 know those 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.

Inclosure 3 in No. 3

(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.

The population during the continuance of these wars diminished, I estimate, by some 60 per cent., and the remnant of the inhabitants are only now, in many cases, returning to their destroyed or abandoned villages.

During the period 1893-1901 the Congo State commenced the system of compelling the natives to collect rubber, and insisted that the inhabitants of the district should not go out of it to sell their produce to traders.

The population of the country then was not large, but there were numerous villages with an active people—very many children, healthy looking and playful. They had good huts, large plantations of plaintains and manioc, and they were evidently rich, for their women were nearly all ornamented with brass anklets, bracelets, and neck rings, and other ornaments.

The following is a list of towns or villages—giving their approximate population in the year 1893 and at the present time. These figures are very carefully estimated:—

—————+———-+———-+—————————————————-
| 1893. | 1903. | Remarks.
+———-+———-+————————————————
Botunu | 500 | 80 |
Bosende | 600 | —- |
Ngombe | 500 | 40 | These are not in the old village,
| | | but near it.
Irebo | 3,000 | 60 | Now a State camp with hundreds
| | | of soldiers and women.
Bokaka | 500 | 30 |
Lobwaka | 200 | 30 |
Boboko | 300 | 35 |
Mwenge | 150 | 30 |
Boongo | 250 | 50 |
Ituta | 300 | 60 |
Ikenze | 320 | 20 |
Ngero | 2,500 | 300 | In several small clusters of huts.
Mwebe | 700 | 75 |
Ikoko | 2,500 | 800 | Including fishing camps.
—————+———-+———-+—————————————————-

This list can be extended to double this number of villages, and in every case there has been a great decrease in the population. This has been, to a very great extent, caused by the extreme measures resorted to by officers of the State, and the freedom enjoyed by the soldiers to do just as they pleased. There are more people in the district near the villages mentioned, but they are hidden away in the bush like hunted animals, with only a few branches thrown together for shelter, for they have no trust that the present quiet state of things will continue, and they have no heart to build houses or make good gardens. In all the villages mentioned there are very few good huts, and when the natives are urged to make better houses for the sake of their health, the reply is, that there is no advantage to them in building good houses or making extensive gardens, as these would only give the State a greater hold upon them and lead to more exorbitant demands. The decrease has several causes:—

1. O* was deserted because of demands made for rubber by M. N O and several others were similar cases. The natives went to the French territory.

2. “War,” in which children and women were killed as well as men. Women and children were killed not in all cases by stray bullets, but were taken as prisoners and killed. Sad to say, these horrible cases were not always the acts of some black soldier. Proof was laid against one officer who shot one woman and one man, while they were before him as prisoners with their hands tied, and no attempt was made by the accused to deny the truth of the statement. To those killed in the so-called “war” must be added large numbers of those who died while kept as prisoners of war. Others were carried to far distant camps and have never returned. Many of the young were sent to Missions, and the death-rate was enormous. Here is one example: Ten children were sent from a State steamer to a Mission, and in spite of comfortable surroundings there were only three alive at the end of a month. The others had died of dysentery and bowel troubles contracted during the voyage. Two more struggled on for about fifteen months, but never recovered strength, and at last died. In less than two years only one of the ten was alive.

3. Another cause of the decrease is that the natives are weakened in body through insufficient and irregular food supply. They cannot resist disease as of old. In spite of assurances that the old state of things will not come again, the native refuses to build good houses, make large gardens, and make the best of the new surroundings—he is without ambition because without hope, and when sickness comes he does not seem to care.

4. Again a lower percentage of births lessen the population. Weakened bodies is one cause of this. Another reason is that women refuse to bear children, and take means to save themselves from motherhood. They give as the reason that if “war” should come a woman “big with child,” or with a baby to carry, cannot well run away and hide from the soldiers. Confidence will no doubt, be restored, but it grows but slowly.

There are two points in connection with the “war” (so-called):—

(1.) The cause.
(2.) The manner in which it was conducted.

(1.) The natives never had obeyed any other man than their own Chiefs. When Leopold II became their King they were not aware of the fact, nor had they any hand in the making of the new arrangement. Demands were made on them, and they did not understand why they should obey the stranger. Some of the demands were not excessive, but others were simply impossible. From the G H* people and the O* group of towns large demands of rubber were made. There was not much within their reach, and it was a dangerous thing to be a stranger in a strange part of the forests. The O* people offered to pay a monthly tribute of goats, fowls, &c., but M. N O would have rubber, so they left. The G H* had to bear the scourge of war frequently and many were killed. Now they supply what they probably would have supplied without the loss of one person, kwanga and fresh meats, and roofing materials and mats. Rubber was demanded from some others and war resulted. These are now providing the State with fish and fowls.

Another fertile source of war lay in the actions of the native soldiers. Generally speaking their statements against other natives were received as truth that needed no support. Take the following as an example: One morning it was reported that State soldiers had shot several people near the channel leading from H K* to the Congo. Several canoes full of manioc had been also seized, and the friends of the dead and owners of two of the canoes asked that they might have the canoes and food, and that they might take the bodies and bury them. But this was refused. It was alleged the people were shot in the act of deserting from the State into French territory. The Chief who was shot was actually returning from having gone with a message from M. O P to a village, and was killed east of the camp and of his home, while “France” lay to the west. The soldiers said that the people had been challenged to stop and that they refused, and that they had been shot as they paddled away. But really they had landed when called by the soldiers; they had been tied hand and foot, and then shot. One woman had struggled when shot, and had broken the vines with which her feet were tied, and she, though wounded, tried to escape. A second bullet made her fall, but yet she rose and ran a few steps, when a third bullet laid her low. Their hands had all been taken off—i.e., the right hand of each—for evidence of the faithfulness of the soldiers. M. O P shot two of the soldiers, but the leader of the party was not shot, though the whole matter was carried through by him, and he it was that gave M. O P the false report.

A Chief complained that certain soldiers had taken his wives and had stolen all of his belongings that they cared to have. He made no complaint against the “tax” that the soldiers had gone there to secure, but told of the cruelty and oppression of the soldiers carried on for their own gain. The white officer kicked him off the verandah and said that he told many lies. The Chief turned round with fury written on his face, stood silently looking at the white man, and then stalked off; two days later there was a report that all the soldiers with their wives and followers had been killed in that Chief’s town. A little later the white officer who refused to set matters right, along with another Belgian officer, were killed with a number of their soldiers in an expedition for the purpose of punishing the Chief and his people for killing the first lot of soldiers.

After the rubber demand was withdrawn, in some places labour was demanded. A very large proportion of the women from this village had to go to P* every week and work there two days. They returned here on the third day. Nearly every week there were complaints made that someone’s wife had been kept by a soldier, and when it was suggested that the husband should himself go and report the matter to the white man, they would reply: “We dare not.” Their fear was not so much of the white man but of the black soldiers.

(2.) The manner in which this war was conducted was very objectionable to any one with European ideas. The natives attacked P* and O*, but that was only after numerous expeditions had been made against them, and the whole population roused against the “white man.” In 99 per cent. of the “wars” in this district the cause was simply failure on the part of the people to supply produce, labour, or men, as demanded by the State. There was the long struggle with L L L in his long resistance to State authority; but he at first was known as a quiet man who tried to please the State, and he only started on his career as a fighting man after he had been out to help M. N O. After the departure of M. N O to Coquilhatville, he went back and made demands and fought the people as he had done with M. N O as his Chief.

When this matter was reported to M. N O, he was angry, and called the Chief a “brigand,” and said that he would be punished. For numerous offences he was put “on the chain,” and some time after his release the fight occurred (in which fight the two white men were killed) and he joined with others in an ineffectual attempt to drive out the white man.

In most of the fights then the natives were merely trying to defend themselves and their homes from attacks made on them by black soldiers sent to “punish them for some failure to do their duty to the State;” and if the cause for war was weak, the way in which it was carried on was often revolting. It was stated that these soldiers were often sent out to make war on a village without a white officer accompanying them, so that there was nothing to keep them from awful excesses.

It is averred that canoes have been seen returning from distant expeditions with no white man in charge, and with human hands dangling from a stick in the bow of the canoe—or in small baskets—being carried to the white man as proofs of their courage and devotion to duty. If one in fifty of native reports are true, there has been great lack on the part of some white men. They, too, are accused of forgetting the subjects and conditions of war.

Statements made to me by certain natives are appended.

Many similar statements were made to me during the time I spent at Lake Mantumba, some of those made by native men being unfit for repetition.

Q Q’s Statement

I was born at K K*. After my father died my mother and I went to L L*. When we returned to K K* soon after that P Q came to fight with us because of rubber. K K* did not want to take rubber to the white man. We and our mothers ran away very far into the bush. The Bula Matadi soldiers were very strong and they fought hard, one soldier was killed, and they killed one K K* man. Then the white man said let us go home, and they went home, and then we, too, came out of the bush. This was the first fight. After that another fighting took place. I, my mother, grandmother, and my sister, we ran away into the bush. The soldiers came and fought us, and left the town and followed us into the bush. When the soldiers came into the bush near us they were calling my mother by name, and I was going to answer, but my mother put her hand to my mouth to stop me. Then they went to another side, and then we left that place and went to another. When they called my mother, if she had not stopped me from answering, we would all have been killed then. A great number of our people were killed by the soldiers. The friends who were left buried the dead bodies, and there was very much weeping. After that there was not any fighting for some time. Then the soldiers came again to fight with us, and we ran into the bush, but they really came to fight with M M*. They killed a lot of M M* people, and then one soldier came out to K K*, and the K K* people killed him with a spear. And when the other soldiers heard that their friend was killed they came in a large number and followed us into the bush. Then the soldiers fired a gun, and some people were killed. After that they saw a little bit of my mother’s head, and the soldiers ran quickly towards the place where we were and caught my grandmother, my mother, my sister, and another little one, younger than us. Several of the soldiers argued about my mother, because each wanted her for a wife, so they finally decided to kill her. They killed her with a gun—they shot her through the stomach—and she fell, and when I saw that I cried very much, because they killed my mother and grandmother, and I was left alone. My mother was near to the time of her confinement at that time. And they killed my grandmother too, and I saw it all done. They took hold of my sister and asked where her older sister was, and she said: “She has just run away.” They said, “Call her.” She called me, but I was too frightened and would not answer, and I ran and went away and came out at another place, and I could not speak much because my throat was very sore. I saw a little bit kwanga lying on the ground and I picked it up to eat. At that place there used to be a lot of people, but when I got there there were none. My sister was taken to P*, and I was at this place alone. One day I saw a man coming from the back country. He was going to kill me, but afterwards he took me to a place where there were people, and there I saw my step-father.... He asked to buy me from this man, but the man would not let him. He said, “She is my slave now; I found her.” One day the men went out fishing, and when I looked I saw the soldiers coming, so I ran away, but a string caught my foot and I fell, and a soldier named N N N caught me. He handed me over to another soldier, and as we went we saw some Q* people fishing, and the soldiers took a lot of fish from them and a Q* woman, and we went to P*, and they took me to the white man.

(Signed) Q Q.

Signed by Q Q before me,
(Signed) Roger Casement,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

R R’s Statement

I, R R, came from N N*. N N* and R* fought, and they killed several R* people, and one R* man O O O took a man and sent him to L L L to go and tell the white man to come and fight with Nkoho. The white man who fought with N N* first was named Q R.* He fought with us in the morning; then I ran away with my mother. Then the men came to call us back to our town. When we were returning to our town, as we were nearing, we asked how many people were killed, and they told us three were killed. Q R had burned down all the houses, so we were scattered to other places again; only some of the men were left to build again. After a while we returned to our town and began to plant our gardens. I have finished the first part of the story.

We stayed a long time at our town, then the white man who fought with N N* first went and told R S that the N N* people were very strong, so R S made up his mind to come and fight us. When he came to O* we heard the news; it was high-water season. We got into our canoes to run away, but the men stayed behind to wait for the soldiers. When the white man came he did not try to fight them during the day, but went to the back and waited for night to come. When the soldiers came at night the people ran away, so they did not kill anybody, only a sick man whom they found in a house, whom they (the soldiers) killed and disfigured his body very much. They hunted out all the native money they could get, and in the morning they went away. After they went away we came back to the town, but we found it was all destroyed. We remained in our town a long time; the white man did not come back to fight with us. After a while we heard that R S was coming to fight us. R S sent some Q* men to tell the N N* people to send people to go and work for him, and also to send goats. The N N* people would not do it, so he went to fight our town. When we were told by the men that the soldiers were coming, we began to run away. My mother told me to wait for her until she got some things ready to take with us, but I told her we must go now, as the soldiers were coming. I ran away and left my mother, and went with two old people who were running away, but we were caught, and the old people were killed, and the soldiers made me carry the baskets with the things these dead people had and the hands they cut off. I went on with the soldiers. Then we came to another town, and they asked me the way and the name of the place, and I said “I do not know;” but they said, “If you do not tell us we will kill you,” so I told them the name of the town. Then we went into the bush to look for people, and we heard children crying, and a soldier went quickly over to the place and killed a mother and four children, and then we left off looking for the people in the bush, and they asked me again to show them the way out, and if I did not they would kill me, so I showed them the way. They took me to R S, and he told me to go and stay with the soldier who caught me. They tied up six people, but I cannot tell how many people were killed, because there were too many for me to count. They got my little sister and killed her, and threw her into a house and set fire to the house. When finished with that we went to OO*, and stayed there four days, and then we went to P P*, and because the people there ran away, they killed the P P* Chief. We stayed there several days; then we came to P*, and from there we came on to Q Q*, and there they put the prisoners in chains, but they did not put me in chains, and then he (R S) went to fight with L L*, and killed a lot of people and six people tied up. When he came back from L L* we started and came on to Q*.

---

My father was killed in the same fight as I was captured. My mother was killed by a sentry stationed at N N* after I left.

(Signed) R R.

Signed by R R, before me,
(Signed) Roger Casement,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

S S’s Statement

S S came from the far back R R*. One day the soldiers went to her town to fight; she did not know that the soldiers had come to fight them until she saw the people from the other side of the town running towards their end, then they, too, began to run away. Her father, mother, three brothers, and sister were with her. About four men were killed at this scare. It was at this fight that one of the station girls P P P was taken prisoner. After several days, during which time they were staying at other villages, they went back to their own town. They were only a few days in their own town when they heard that the soldiers who had been at the other towns were coming their way too, so the men gathered up all their bows and arrows and went out to the next town to wait for the soldiers to fight them. Some of the men stayed behind with all the women and children. After that S S and her mother went out to their garden to work; while there S S told her mother that she had dreamed that Bula Matadi was coming to fight with them, but her mother told her she was trying to tell stories. After that S S went back to the house, and left her mother in the garden. After she had been a little while in the house with her little brother and sister she heard the firing of guns. When she heard that she took up her little sister and a big basket with a lot of native money[22] in it, but she could not manage both, so she left the basket behind and ran away with the youngest child; the little boy ran away by himself. The oldest boys had gone away to wait for the soldiers at the other town. As she went past she heard her mother calling to her, but she told her to run away in another direction, and she would go on with the little sister. She found her little sister rather heavy for her, so she could not run very fast, and a great number of people went past her, and she was left alone with the little one. Then she left the main road and went to hide in the bush. When night came on she tried to find the road again and follow the people who had passed her, but she could not find them, so she had to sleep in the bush alone. She wandered about in the bush for six days, then she came upon a town named S S*22. At this town she found that the soldiers were fighting there too. Before entering the town she dug up some sweet manioc to eat, because she was very, very hungry. She went about looking for a fire to roast her sweet manioc, but she could not find any. Then she heard a noise as of people talking, so she hid her little sister in a deserted house, and went to see those people she had heard talking, thinking they might be those from her own town, but when she got to the house where the noise was coming from she saw one of the soldier’s boys sitting at the door of the house, and then also she could not quite understand their language, so she knew that they were not her people, so she took fright and ran away in another direction from where she had put her sister. After she had reached the outside of the town she stood still, and remembered that she would be scolded by her father and mother for leaving her sister, so she went back at night. She came upon a house where the white man was sleeping; she saw the sentry on a deck chair outside in front of the house, apparently asleep, because he did not see her slip past him. Then she came to the house where her sister was, and took her, and she started to run away again. They slept in a deserted house at the very end of the town. Early in the morning the white man sent out the soldiers to go and look for people all over the town and in the houses. S S was standing outside in front of the house, trying to make her sister walk some, as she was very tired, but the little sister could not run away through weakness. While they were both standing outside the soldiers came upon them and took them both. One of the soldiers said: “We might keep them both, the little one is not bad-looking;” but the others said “No, we are not going to carry her all the way; we must kill the youngest girl.” So they put a knife through the child’s stomach, and left the body lying there where they had killed it. They took S S to the next town, where the white man had told them to go and fight. They did not go back to the house where the white man was, but went straight on to the next town. The white man’s name was C D.23 The soldiers gave S S something to eat on the way. When they came to this next town they found that all the people had run away.

In the morning the soldiers wanted S S to go and look for manioc for them, but she was afraid to go out as they looked to her as if they wanted to kill her. The soldiers thrashed her very much, and began to drag her outside, but the corporal (N N N) came and took her by the hand and said, “We must not kill her; we must take her to the white man.” Then they went back to the town where C D was, and they showed him S S. C D handed her over to the care of a soldier. At this town she found that they had caught three people, and among them was a very old woman, and the cannibal soldiers asked C D to give them the old woman to eat, and C D told them to take her. Those soldiers took the woman and cut her throat, and then divided her and ate her. S S saw all this done. In the morning the soldier who was looking after her was sent on some duty by C D, and before the soldier went out he had told S S to get some manioc leaves not far from the house and to cook them. After he left she went to do as he had told her, and those cannibal soldiers went to C D and said that S S was trying to run away, so they wanted to kill her; but he told them to tie her, so the soldiers tied her to a tree, and she had to stand in the sun nearly all day. When the soldier who had charge of her came back he found her tied up. C D called to him to ask about S S, so he explained to C D what he had told S S to do, so he was allowed to untie her. They stayed several days at this place, then B D asked S S if she knew all the towns round about, and she said yes, then he told her to show them the way, so that they could go and catch people. They came to a town and found only one woman, who was dying of sickness, and the soldiers killed her with a knife. At several towns they found no people, but at last they came to a town where several people had run to as they did not know where else to go, because the soldiers were fighting everywhere. At this town they killed a lot of people—men, women, and children—and took some as prisoners. They cut the hands off those they had killed, and brought them to C D; they spread out the hands in a row for C D to see. After that they left to return to Bikoro. They took a lot of prisoners with them. The hands which they had cut off they just left lying, because the white man had seen them, so they did not need to take them to P*. Some of the soldiers were sent to P* with the prisoners, but C D himself and the other soldiers went to T T* where there was another white man. The prisoners were sent to S T. S S was about two weeks at P*, and then she ran away into the bush at P* for three days, and when she was found she was brought back to S T, and he asked her why she had run away. She said because the soldiers had thrashed her.

---

S S’s mother was killed by soldiers, and her father died of starvation, or rather, he refused to eat because he was bereaved of his wife and all his children.

(Signed) S S.

Signed by S S before me,
(Signed)

Roger Casement,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

T T’s Statement

States she belonged to the village of R*, where she lived with her grandmother. R* was attacked by the State soldiers long ago. It was in S T’s time. She does not know if he was with the soldiers, but she heard the bugle blow when they were going away. It was in the afternoon when they came, they began catching and tying the people, and killed lots of them. A lot of people—she thinks perhaps fifty—ran away, and she was in the crowd with them, but the soldiers came after them and killed them all but herself. She was small, and she slid into the bush. The people killed were many, and women—there were not many children. The children had scattered when the soldiers came, but she stayed with the big people, thinking she might be safe.

When they were all killed she waited in the grass for two nights. She was very frightened, and her throat was sore with thirst, and she looked about and at last she found some water in a pot. She stayed on in the grass a third night, and buffaloes came near her and she was very frightened—and they went away. When the morning came she thought she would be better to move, and went away and got up a tree. She was three days without food, and was very hungry. In the tree she was near her grandmother’s house, and she looked around and, seeing no soldiers, she crept to her grandmother’s house and got some food and got up the tree again. The soldiers had gone away hunting for buffaloes, and it was then she was able to get down from the tree. The soldiers came back, and they came towards the trees and bushes calling out: “Now we see you; come down, come down!” This they used to do, so that people, thinking they were really discovered, should give themselves up; but she thought she would stay on, and so she stayed up the tree. Soon afterwards the soldiers went, but she was still afraid to come down. Presently she heard her grandmother calling out to know if she was alive, and when she heard her grandmother’s voice she knew the soldiers were gone, and she answered, but her voice was very small—and she came down and her grandmother took her home.

That was the first time. Soon afterwards she and her grandmother went away to another town called U U*, near V V*, and they were there some days together, when one night the soldiers came. The white man sent the soldiers there because the U U* people had not taken to the State what they were told to take. Neither her own people nor the U U* people knew there was any trouble with the Government, so they were surprised. She was asleep. Her grandmother—her mother’s mother—tried to awaken her, but she did not know. She felt the shaking, but she did not mind because she was sleepy.

The soldiers came quickly into the house—her grandmother rushed out just before. When she heard the noise of the soldiers around the house, and looked and saw her grandmother not there, she ran out and called for her grandmother; and as she ran her brass anklets made a noise, and some one ran after and caught her by the leg, and she fell and the soldiers took her.

There were not many soldiers, only some boys with one soldier (Note.—She means a corporal and some untrained men.—R. C.), and they had caught only one woman and herself. In the morning they began robbing the houses, and took everything they could find and take.

They were taken to a canoe, and went to V V*. The soldier who caught her was the sentry at V V*. At V V* she was kept about a week with the sentry, and when the V V* people took their weekly rations over to P* she was sent over. The other woman who was taken to V V* was ransomed by her friends. They came after them to V V*, and the sentry let her go for 750 rods. She saw the money paid. Her friends came to ransom her too, but the sentry refused, saying the white man wanted her because she was young—the other was an old woman and could not work.

(Signed) T T.

Signed by T T before me.
(Signed)

Roger Casement,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

U U’s Statement

When we began to run away from the fight, we ran away many times. They did not catch me because I was with mother and father. Afterwards mother died; four days passed, father died also. I and an older sister were left with two younger children, and then the fighting came where I had run to. Then my elder sister called me: “U U, come here.” I went. She said: “Let us run away, because we have not any one to take care of us.” When we were running away we saw a lot of W W* people coming towards us. We told them to run away, war was coming. They said: “Is it true?” We said: “It is true; they are coming.” The W W* people said: “We will not run away; we did not see the soldiers.” Only a little while they saw the soldiers, and they were killed. We stayed in a town named X X*. A male relative called me: “U U, let us go;” but I did not want to. The soldiers came there; I ran away by myself; when I ran away I hid in the bush. While I was running I met with an old man who was running from a soldier. He (the soldier) fired a gun. I was not hit, but the old man died. Afterwards they caught me and two men. The soldiers asked: “Have you a father and mother?” I answered, “No.” They said to me, “If you do not tell us we will kill you.” I said: “Father and mother are dead.” After that my oldest sister was caught, too, in the bush, and they left my little brother and sister alone in the bush to die, because heavy rain came on, and they had not had anything to eat for days and days. At night they tied my hands and feet for fear that I should run away. In the morning they caught three people—two had children; they killed the children. Afterwards I was standing outside, and a soldier asked me, “Where are you going?” I said, “I am going home.” He said, “Come on.” He took his gun; he put me in the house; he wanted to kill me. Then another soldier came and took me. We heard a big noise; they told us that the fighting was over, but it was not so. When we were going on the way they killed ten children because they were very, very small; they killed them in the water. Then they killed a lot of people, and they cut off their hands and put them into baskets and took them to the white man. He counted out the hands—200 in all; they left the hands lying. The white man’s name was “C D.” After that C D sent us prisoners with soldiers to P* to S T. S T told me to weed grass. When I was working outside a soldier came and said: “Come here;” and when I went he wanted to cut my hand off, and so I went to the white man to tell him, and he thrashed the soldier.

On our way, when we were coming to P*, the soldiers saw a little child, and when they went to kill it the child laughed so the soldier took the butt of the gun and struck the child with it, and then cut off its head. One day they killed my half-sister and cut off her head, hands, and feet because she had on rings. Her name was Q Q Q. Then they caught another sister, and they sold her to the W W* people, and now she is a slave there. When we came to P* the white man said to send word to the friends of the prisoners to come with goats to buy off some of their relatives. A lot were bought off, but I had no one to come and buy me off because father was dead. The white man said to me, “You shall go to....” The white man (S T) gave me a small boy to care for, but I thought he would be killed, so I helped to get him away. S T asked me to bring the boy to him, but I said: “He has run away.” He said he would kill me, but....

(Signed) U U.

Signed by U U before me.
(Signed)

Roger Casement,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

Inclosure 4 in No. 3

(See p. 34.)

Notes in the Case of V V, a Native of L L* in the Mantumba District, both of whose hands have been hacked or beaten off, and with reference to other similar cases of Mutilation in that District.

I found this man in the... station at Q* on, and learned that he had been kept by the missionaries for some years, since the day when a party of native teachers had found him in his own town, situated in the forest some miles away from Q*. In answer to my inquiry as to how he came to lose his hands, V V’s statement was as follows:—

“State soldiers came from P*, and attacked the R R* towns, which they burned, killing people. They then attacked a town called A B* and burned it, killing people there also. From that they went on to L L*. The L L* people fled into the forest, leaving some few of their number behind with food to offer to the soldiers—among whom was V V. The soldiers came to L L*, under the command of a European officer, whose native name was T U. The soldiers took prisoner all the men left in the town, and tied them up. Their hands were tied very tight with native rope, and they were tied up outside in the open; and as it was raining very hard, and they were in the rain all the time and all the night, their hands swelled, because the thongs contracted. His (V V’s) hands had swollen terribly in the morning, and the thongs had cut into the bone. The soldiers, when they came to L L*, had only one native a prisoner with them; he was killed during the night. At L L* itself eight people, including himself (V V) were taken prisoners; all were men; two were killed during the night. Six only were taken down in the morning to Y Y*. The white man ordered four of the prisoners to be released; the fifth was a Chief, named R R R. This Chief had come back to L L* in the night to try secretly to get some fire to take back into the forest, where the fugitives were hiding. His wife had become sick during the heavy rain in the forest, and the Chief wanted the fire for her; but the soldiers caught him, and he was taken along with the rest. This Chief was taken to P*, but he believes that on the way, at Z Z*, he tried to escape, and was killed. V V’s hands were so swollen that they were quite useless. The soldiers seeing this, and that the thongs had cut into the bone, beat his hands against a tree with their rifles, and he was released. He does not know why they beat his hands. The white man, T U, was not far off, and could see what they were doing. T U was drinking palm-wine while the soldiers beat his hands with their rifle-butts against the tree. His hands subsequently fell off (or sloughed away). When the soldiers left him by the waterside, he got back to L L*, and when his own people returned from the forest they found him there. Afterwards some boys—one of whom was a relation—came to L L*, and they found him without his hands.”

There was some doubt in the translation of V V’s statement whether his hands had been cut with a knife; but later inquiry established that they fell off through the tightness of the native rope and the beating of them by the soldiers with their rifle-butts.

On the 14th August, I again visited the State camp at Irebu, where, in the course of conversation with the officer in command, I made passing but intentional reference to the fact that I had seen V V, and had heard his story from himself. I added that from the boy’s statement it would seem that the loss of his hands was directly attributable to an officer who was apparently close at hand and in command of the soldiers at the time. I added that I had heard of other cases in the neighbourhood. The Commandant at once informed me that such things were impossible, but that in this specific case of V V he should cause inquiry to be instantly made.

On my return from the Lulongo River I found that this remark in passing conversation had borne instant fruit, although previous appeals on behalf of the boy had proved unsuccessful. The Commissaire-Général of the Equator District had, learning of it, at once proceeded to Lake Mantumba, and a judicial investigation as to how V V lost his hands had been immediately instituted. The boy was taken to Bikoro, and I have since been informed that provision has been made for him and a weekly allowance.

When at the village of B C*, I had found there a boy of not more than 12 years of age with the right hand gone. This child, in answer to my inquiries, said that the hand had been cut off by the Government soldiers some years before. He could not say how long before, but judging from the height he indicated he could not then have been more than 7 years of age if now 12. His statement was fully confirmed by S S S and his relatives, who stood around him while I questioned him. The soldiers had come to B C* from Coquilhatville by land through the forest. They were led by an officer whose name was given as “U V.” His father and mother were killed beside him. He saw them killed, and a bullet hit him and he fell. He here showed me a deep cicatrized scar at the back of the head, just at the nape of the neck, and said it was there the bullet had struck him. He fell down, presumably insensible, but came to his senses while his hand was being hacked off at the wrist. I asked him how it was he could possibly lie silent and give no sign. He answered that he felt the cutting, but was afraid to move, knowing that he would be killed if he showed any sign of life.

I made some provision for this boy.

The names of six other persons mutilated in a similar way were given to me. The last of these, an old woman, had died only a few months previously, and her niece stated that her aunt had often told her how she came to lose her hand. The town had been attacked by Government troops and all had fled, pursued into the forest. This old woman (whose name was V W) had fled with her son, when he fell shot dead, and she herself fell down beside him—she supposed she fainted. She then felt her hand being cut off, but had made no sign. When all was quiet and the soldiers had gone, she found her son’s dead body beside her with one hand cut off and her own also taken away.

Of acts of persistent mutilation by Government soldiers of this nature I had many statements made to me, some of them specifically, others in a general way. Of the fact of this mutilation and the causes inducing it there can be no shadow of doubt. It was not a native custom prior to the coming of the white man; it was not the outcome of the primitive instincts of savages in their fights between village and village; it was the deliberate act of the soldiers of a European Administration, and these men themselves never made any concealment that in committing these acts they were but obeying the positive orders of their superiors. I obtained several specific instances of this practice of mutilation having been carried out in the town of Q* itself, when the Government soldiers had come across from P* to raid it or compel its inhabitants to work.

Inclosure 5 in No. 3

(See p. 43.)

Circular dated October 20, 1900.

Le Gouvernement a délégué à des Sociétés Commerciales opérant dans certaines parties du territoire non soumise à l’action immédiate de son autorité une partie de ses pouvoirs en matière de police générale.

Ces Sociétés sont dites avoir “le droit de police.” Des interprétations erronées ont été données à cette appellation.

On a voulu y voir l’attribution aux Directeurs de ces Sociétés et même à des agents subalternes, du droit de diriger des opérations militaires offensives, “de faire la guerre” aux populations indigènes; d’autres, sans même s’inquiéter d’examiner quelles pouvaient être les limites de ce droit de police, se sont servis de moyens que cette délégation avait mis entre leurs mains, pour commettre les abus les plus graves.

C’est-à-dire que “le droit de police” qui leur donnait le moyen de se protéger eux-mêmes et l’obligation de protéger les individus contre l’abus de la force, allait complètement à l’encontre de l’un de ces buts principaux.

En présence de cette situation, j’ai décidé que “le droit de police,” terme dont je conserve provisoirement l’emploi, ne laisserait que le pouvoir de réquisitionner, à l’effet de maintenir ou de rétablir l’ordre, la force armée qui se trouvera soit dans la Concession, soit en dehors, mais même dans ce cas il doit être bien entendu que les officiers de l’État conserveront, au cours des événements le Commandant [? commandement] des soldats et seront seuls juges, sous leur responsabilité, des opérations militaires qu’il importerait d’entreprendre.

Les armes perfectionnées que les Sociétés posséderaient dans leurs diverses factoreries ou établissements et qui doivent faire l’objet comme les armes d’autres Sociétés n’ayant pas le droit de police, d’un permis modèle B, ne peuvent en aucun cas sortir des établissements pour lesquels elles ont été délivrées.

Quant aux fusils à piston ils ne peuvent être mis en dehors des factoreries qu’entre les mains des Capitas et à condition que ceux-ci aient un permis suivant modèle C.

Les fusils à piston ne sortiront ainsi des factoreries qu’isolément. Ne pouvant être remis en dehors des établissements commerciaux dans les mains de groupes plus ou moins importants ils ne constitueront ainsi jamais une force offensive.

Je donne à nouveau les ordres les plus formels pour que tous les fonctionnaires de l’État concourent à faire réprimer les infractions à ces strictes défenses.

Le Gouverneur-Général,
(Signé) WAHIS.

Boma, le 20 Octobre, 1900.

(Translation.)

The Government have delegated to commercial Companies operating in certain parts of the territory not subject to the immediate exercise of Government authority a part of their powers in matters of general police.

These Companies are described as having “the right of police.” Erroneous interpretations have been given to this expression.

It has been held by some as giving to the Directors of these Companies, and even to inferior officers, the right to undertake offensive military operations, to “make war” on the native population; others, without even troubling to ascertain what the limits of this right of police might be, have used the means afforded by this delegation of power to commit the gravest abuses.

That is to say, “the right of police,” which gave them the means of protecting themselves, and imposed upon them the obligation of protecting individuals against abuse of force, was used in a manner absolutely opposed to one of these principal objects.

In view of these circumstances, I have decided that “the right of police,” an expression the use of which I retain provisionally, shall imply no more than the power of requisitioning, with a view to maintaining or restoring order, the armed force existing either within or without the Concession; but even in this case it must be well understood that the officers of the State will retain command of the soldiers during the proceedings, and will be the sole judges, on their own responsibility, of the military operations which it may be desirable to undertake.

Improved weapons which the Companies possess in their various factories or establishments and for which, as for the arms of other Companies not having the right of police, a permit, form (B), must be taken out, may not in any case be removed from the establishments for which they were issued.

With regard to cap-guns, they may not be removed from the factories except into the hands of the Capitas, and on the condition that the latter are in possession of a permit, form (C).

Cap-guns will thus only be removed from the factories one by one. As they cannot be issued from the commercial establishments into the hands of more or less numerous groups, they will thus never constitute a means of offence.

I again give the most formal orders that all the State officials co-operate to repress violations of these strict prohibitions.

The Governor-General,
(Signed) WAHIS.

Boma, October 20, 1900.

Inclosure 6 in No. 3

(See p. 56.)

Note of Information taken in the Charge of Cutting off the boy I I’s hand, preferred to Mr. Casement by the People of E*.

At village of E* in the C D* country, on left bank of E D*, tributary of the X* River.

Y Y, with many of the townsmen and a few women and children, also present.

A lad, about 14 or 15 years of age, I I by name, whose left hand had been cut off, the stump wrapped up in a rag, the wound being yet scarcely healed, appears, and, in answer to Consul’s question, charges a sentry named K K (placed in the town by the local agent of the La Lulanga Society to see that the people work rubber) with having done it. This sentry is called, and after some delay appears with a cap-gun.

The following inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the loss of I I’s hand then takes place:—

The Consul, through W W, speaking in E F*, and X X repeating his utterances both in F G* to the sentry and in the local dialect to the others, asks I I, in the presence of the accused:

“Who cut off your hand?”

I I: “The sentry there.”

The sentry denies the charge (interrupting), and stating that his name is T T T and not K K. Consul requests him to keep silence—that he can speak later.

Y Y is called and questioned by Consul through the interpreters. After being exhorted to speak the truth without fear or favour, he states:

“The sentry before us cut off I I’s hand.”

Consul: “Did you yourself witness the act?”

Answer: “Yes.”

Several of the Headmen of the town called upon by the Consul to testify.

To the first of these, who gave his name as Z Z, Consul asked, pointing to I I’s mutilated wrist-bone: “Who cut off this boy’s hand?”

Z Z (pointing to the sentry): “That man did it.”

The second, who gave his name as A A A, asked by Consul: “Who cut off this boy’s hand?”

Answers: “K K.”

The third, giving his name as B B B, asked by Consul: “Who cut off this boy’s hand?”

Answers: “This man here, the sentry.”

Z Z (re-questioned): “Did you yourself see this sentry cut off this boy’s hand?”

Answer: “Yes, I saw it.”

A A A (re-questioned): “Did you yourself see this sentry cut off this boy’s hand?”

Answers: “I should think so. Did I not get this wound here” (pointing to a cut by the tendon Achilles on the left heel) “the same day, when running away in fright? My own knife wounded me. I let it fall when I ran away.”

Consul questions I I: “How long ago was it your hand was cut off?”

Answer: “He is not sure.”

Two fellow-villagers—young men, named C C C and D D D—step out and state that they remember. The act occurred when the clay was being dug over at C D, when the slip-place for the steamers was begun.

E E E, of E*, another section of the village of R**, questioned by Consul: “Did you see this lad’s hand cut off?”

Answer: “Yes. I did not actually see it being cut off. I came up and saw the severed hand and the blood lying on the ground. The people had run away in all directions.”

Consul asked interpreters to ask if there were others who had seen the crime and charged K K with it.

Nearly all those present, about forty persons, nearly all men, shouted out with one voice that it was K K who did it.

Consul: “They are all sure it was K K here?”

Universal response: “Yes; he did it.”

Consul asked the accused K K: “Did you cut off this boy’s hand?”

This question was put in the plainest language, and repeated six times, with the request that a plain answer—“yes” or “no”—should be given.

The accused failed to answer the question, beginning to talk of other things not relevant to the question, such as that his name was T T and not K K and that the people of R** had done bad things to him.

He was told to confine himself to the question put to him, that he could talk of other things later, but that now it was his place to answer the questions put, just as simply and plainly as the others had answered. He had heard those answers and the charge they levied against him, and he should answer the Consul’s questions in just the same way.

The accused continued to speak of irrelevant subjects, and refused or failed to give any answer to the question put to him.

After repeated attempts to obtain answer to the question: “Did you or did you not cut off this boy I I’s hand?”

Consul states: “You are charged with this crime. You refuse to answer the questions I put to you plainly and straightforwardly as your accusers have done. You have heard their accusation. Your refusal to reply as you should reply—viz., yes or no—to a direct and simple question leaves me convinced that you cannot deny the charge. You have heard what has been charged against you by all these people. Since you decline to answer as they did, you may tell your story your own way. I shall listen to it.”

Accused began to speak, but before his remarks could be translated to me through X X first, to whom he spoke direct, and then through W W, a young man stepped out of the crowd and interrupted.

There was noise and then the man spoke:—

He stated he was F F F of R**. He had shot two antelopes, and he had brought two of their legs to this sentry as a gift. The sentry refused to accept them, and tied his wife up. The sentry said they were not a sufficient present for him, and he kept F F F’s wife tied up until he, F F F, paid him 1,000 brass rods for her release.

Here a young man giving his name as G G G stepped into the ring and accused the sentry of having robbed him openly of two ducks and a dog. They were taken from him for no reason save that the sentry wanted them and took them by force.

Consul again turned to the sentry and invited him to tell his story, and to give his answer to the charge against him in his own way. Consul enjoined silence on all, and not to interrupt the sentry.

K K stated that he did not take G G G’s ducks. The father of G G G gave him a duck. (All laughed.) It is true that F F F killed two antelopes and gave him the two legs as a gift but he did not tie up his wife or require money for her release.

Consul: “That is all right. That finishes the ducks and the antelopes’ legs; but now I want to hear about I I’s hand. Tell me what you know about I I’s hand being cut off.”

K K again evaded the question.

Consul: “Tell him this. He is put here by his master in this town, is he not? This is his town. Now, does he say he does not know what goes on here where he lives?”

The sentry states: “It is true that this is his town, but he knows nothing about I I’s hand being cut off. Perhaps it was the first sentry here before he came, who was a very bad man and cut people’s hands off. That sentry has gone away—it was he who cut hands off, not himself. He does not know anything of it.”

Consul: “What was the name then of this bad sentry, your predecessor, who cut people’s hands off? You know it?”

The sentry gives no direct answer, and the question is repeated. He then gives a statement about several sentries, naming three, as predecessors of himself here at R**.

Here a man named H H H jumped up, interrupting, and asserted that those three sentries did not reside at R**, but had been stationed in his own town—his, H H H’s, town.

Consul (to the sentry): “How long have you been in this town?”

Answer: “Five months.”

Consul: “You are quite sure?”

Answer: “Five months.”

Consul: “Do you, then, know this boy I I? Have you seen him before?”

Answer: “I do not know him at all.”

Here the entire auditory roared with laughter, and expressions of admiration at the sentry’s lying powers were given vent to.

The sentry, continuing, stated that possibly I I comes from H H H’s town. Anyhow, he (the sentry) does not know I I; he does not know him at all.

Here F F F stepped out and said he was full brother of I I; they had lived here always. Their father was U U U, now dead; their mother is also dead.

Consul (to the sentry): “Then it is finished. You know nothing of this matter.”

The sentry: “It is finished. I have told you all. I know nothing of it.”

Here a man giving his name as I I I, of K K*, the neighbouring section of R**, came forward with his wife.

He stated that the other sentries in their town were not so bad, but that this man was a villain.

The sentry had tied up his wife—the woman he brought forward—and had made him pay 500 rods before she was released. He had paid the money.

Here Consul asked I I how his hand had been cut off. He and C C C and D D D stated that he had first been shot in the arm, and then when he fell down the sentry had cut his hand off.

Consul: “Did you feel it being cut off?”

Answer: “Yes, I felt it.”

This terminated the inquiry. The Consul informed Y Y and the people present that he should report what he had seen and heard to the Congo Government, and that he should beg them to investigate the charge against the sentry, who deserved severe punishment for his illegal and cruel acts. The things that the sentry was charged with doing were quite illegal, and if the Government of his country knew of such things being done, the perpetrators of such crimes would, in all cases, be punished.

(Signed) ROGER CASEMENT,
His Britannic Majesty’s Consul.

Inclosure 7 in No. 3

(See p. 59.)

Circular of September 7, 1903, forbidding Soldiers armed with Rifles from going out on Service without Europeans over them.

État Indépendant du Congo.

Boma, le 7 Septembre, 1903.

La lecture de rapports sur des opérations et reconnaissances militaires démontre que les prescriptions formelles—et si souvent répétées—du Gouvernement concernant l’instruction d’envoyer des soldats armés sous la conduite de gradés noirs ne sont pas observées rigoureusement.

Je constate même avec regret de la part de certains fonctionnaires et agents cette mauvaise volonté à se conformer à ces instructions, qui sont pourtant dictées par le souci des intérêts supérieurs de l’État.

Les opérations militaires doivent être conduites d’après les règlements sur le service en campagne que nos officiers et sous-officiers doivent appliquer fréquemment au cours des exercices journaliers et d’après les nombreuses prescriptions sur la matière. Et à cet effet le personnel supérieur, avant de se prononcer sur les opérations à conduire aura, au préalable, à examiner si les moyens dont disposent leurs sous-ordres sont suffisants.

J’ai l’honneur d’inviter les Chefs territoriaux à rappeler à leur personnel les instructions qui précèdent et à l’informer de ce que toute contravention à la défense d’envoyer des soldats armés sous la conduite de gradés noirs sera sévèrement réprimée et de nature même à provoquer la révocation de l’agent en faute.

Les soldats doivent être l’objet d’une surveillance constante afin qu’il leur soit impossible de se livrer à des cruautés auxquelles pourraient les pousser leurs instincts primitifs.

Les instructions défendent aussi d’employer les soldats au service des courriers et des transports.

Malgré cela on continue en maints endroits à pratiquer ce déplorable usage.

Il importe que les soldats ne soient plus constamment distraits de leur garnison et de leur métier militaire et qu’ils restent, en tout temps, sous le contrôle de leurs chefs; l’instruction et l’éducation militaires des hommes de la force publique ne peuvent qu’y gagner.

Je prie, en conséquence, le personnel intéressé de faire cesser immédiatement l’état de choses signalé ci-dessus: le service des courriers doit être assuré par des travailleurs ou des hommes spécialement désignés à cet effet.

Si l’autorité juge nécessaire, dans certains cas, de faire escorter soit un courrier soit un convoi de marchandises, il faut que la patrouille soit organisée réglementairement et commandée par un Européen.

Ce n’est qu’à titre tout à fait exceptionnel et si c’est absolument nécessaire que cette patrouille pourra être commandée à défaut d’Européen par un gradé de choix et de confiance.

Mais dans ce cas, que l’autorité aura à justifier, les hommes commandés par un gradé noir devront être munis du fusil à piston d’armement qui constitue une bonne arme défensive.

Le Vice-Gouverneur-Général,
(Signé) F. FUCHS.

(Translation.)

Independent State of the Congo.

Boma, September 7, 1903.

The perusal of reports on military operations and reconnaissances shows that the formal orders of the Government, so frequently repeated, respecting the instruction to send armed soldiers under the command of black non-commissioned officers, are not rigorously observed.

I even note with regret this disinclination, on the part of certain officials and agents, to conform to these instructions, which are, however, dictated by care for the higher interests of the State.

Military operations must be conducted in accordance with the regulations respecting service in the field, of which our officers and non-commissioned officers must make frequent application at daily drill, and in accordance with the numerous instructions in the matter. And to this end the superior staff, before deciding on the operations to be undertaken, must ascertain beforehand whether the means at the disposal of those below them are sufficient.

I have the honour to invite the territorial Chiefs to remind their staff of the preceding instructions, and to inform them that any breach of the rule forbidding the dispatch of armed soldiers under the command of black non-commissioned officers will be severely put down, and may lead to the dismissal of the agent in fault.

The soldiers must be the object of constant supervision, so that it may be impossible for them to commit cruelties to which their primitive instincts might prompt them.

The instructions also forbid the employment of the soldiers on post or transport work.

Nevertheless, this deplorable custom continues to obtain in many places.

It is important that the soldiers should not in future be constantly withdrawn from their garrison and from their military duties, and that they should remain at all times under the control of their Chiefs. This cannot fail to improve the instruction and military education of the men of the public force. I therefore request the staff whom it concerns to put an end at once to the above-mentioned condition of affairs; the postal service must be assured by workmen or by men specially chosen for that purpose.

If the authorities deem it necessary in certain cases to have the post or a convoy of merchandise escorted, the patrol must be organized according to the regulations, and must be commanded by a European.

It is only in most exceptional cases, and if it is absolutely necessary, that this patrol can, failing European, be commanded by a specially-selected and trustworthy non-commissioned officer.

But in such cases, which will have to be justified by the authorities, the men commanded by a black non-commissioned officer must be provided with a regulation cap-gun, which constitutes a good defensive weapon.

The Vice-Governor-General,
(Signed) F. FUCHS.

Inclosure 8 in No. 3

(See p. 59.)

Circular of Governor-General Wahis, addressed to the Commissioners of District and Chiefs of Zones.

La qualité du caoutchouc exporté du Congo est sensiblement inférieure à ce qu’elle était il y a quelque temps. Cette différence a plusieurs causes, mais la principale résulte de l’adjonction au latex qui devrait être récolté, d’autres latex de valeur très inférieure ou même des matières poussiéreuses quelconques.

Cette cause de perte peut et doit disparaître. Les Commissaires de District et Chefs de Zone qui ont tous de l’expérience, connaissent les moyens de fraude que les indigènes cherchent souvent à employer.

Ils ont à prendre des mesures pour empêcher d’une façon complète ces tromperies. Il n’est pas douteux que là ou la population se soumet à l’impôt il ne sera pas impossible de l’amener à fournir un produit pur, mais il faut pour atteindre ce but une surveillance constante; dès que l’indigène constatera qu’elle se relâche, il essaiera de diminuer son travail en prenant du latex de mauvaise qualité, quand il obtient celui-ci facilement, ou en ajoutant au produit des matières étrangères.

Chaque fois que ces fraudes sont constatées elles doivent être réprimées. Les Commissaires de District et Chefs de Zone ont à examiner fréquemment les produits, afin de faire à temps des observations à leurs Chefs de Poste, et à ne plus laisser perdurer des situations qui causent le plus grand préjudice.

A cette cause de la diminution de la valeur du caoutchouc, il faut ajouter celle provenant de l’emballage défectueux du produit, qui par suite voyage souvent pendant plusieurs mois dans les plus mauvaises conditions. L’on peut dire qu’à cause de cette négligence une notable partie des efforts qui ont été faits pour obtenir une production en rapport avec la richesse du pays, doivent être considérés comme perdus, puisque la valeur du caoutchouc peut diminuer de moitié par suite de ce manque de soin.

J’ajouterai que la valeur du caoutchouc, même pur de tout mélange, a diminué depuis quelque temps sur tous les marchés; il faut donc que les Chefs Territoriaux fassent non seulement disparaître les deux causes de pertes qu’ils peuvent éliminer, mais encore qu’ils compensent la troisième en faisant des efforts continus pour augmenter la production dans la mesure prescrite par les instructions.

Mon attention sera d’une façon constante, fixée sur les prescriptions que je donne ici.

Le Gouverneur-Général,
(Signé) WAHIS.

Boma, le 29 Mars, 1901.

(Translation.)

The quality of the rubber exported from the Congo is sensibly inferior to what it was some time ago. This difference arises from several causes, but principally from the addition, to the latex which is fit to be gathered, of other kinds of latex of very inferior value, or even of any dust-like matter.

This cause of loss can and must be removed. The Commissioners of districts and Chiefs of zones, who all have experience, know the fraudulent means which the natives often try to employ.

They must take measures completely to prevent these frauds. It cannot be doubted that in those parts where the population submits to the tax it will not be impossible to lead the natives to furnish pure produce; but in order to effect this, constant supervision is necessary, for as soon as the native notices that the supervision is becoming lax he will try to lessen his work by taking latex of a bad quality, if he obtains it easily, or by adding foreign matter.

Whenever these frauds are discovered they must be put down. The Commissioners of districts and Chiefs of zones must examine the produce at frequent intervals, in order to report in time to their Heads of stations, and not to permit a condition of affairs which is most prejudicial.

To this cause of the decline in the value of rubber must be added that arising from defective packing of the produce, which thus often travels during several months under the worst conditions. Much of the effort which has been taken to obtain produce in keeping with the richness of the country may be said to be lost through this neglect, for the value of the rubber may be diminished by half through this want of care.

I may add that the value of rubber, even when free from all admixture, has gone down in every market for some time past; territorial Chiefs must, therefore, not only remove the two causes of loss which they can eliminate, but they must also try to neutralize the third by making unceasing efforts to increase production to the extent laid down in the instructions.

The orders which I have here given will have my constant attention.

The Governor-General,
(Signed) WAHIS.

Boma, March 29, 1901.