438

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.

called elephantiasis. Scrofula is somewhat prevalent, as it is in many other tribes. Most of these diseases must be attributed to insufficient nourishment and filthy habits.

They are fond of music of certain kinds. The tam-tam is the noisiest instrument, and is used for all dances and ceremonials. But they have also a guitar, and a harp of eight strings-an ingenious instrument, on which some of the men play with a good deal of skill; and some of their airs were really pretty, though sad and monotonous. The ombi, as this is called, is a source of great delight to them. Often and often I have heard it played all night, while the crowd of listeners sat in silence around the fire. While the tam-tam rouses their feelings and really throws them into a phrensy, the ombi has a soothing and softening effect upon them.

Both instruments are called ombi. banjo or guitar, has but four strings. harp. Both are made of thin pieces

One, which is shaped like a The other, with eight, is a of a resonant wood, some

times covered with snake-skin. The strings are the long, fine, fibrous roots of a tree, and answer their purpose very well.

ANXIETIES OF RANPANO.

439

CHAPTER XXIII.

Departure for the Interior.-Meeting of the People.-Address of Ranpano.-I am made a Makaga.-Use of Quinine.-A sick Friend.-Death in Goumbi.-Sorcery, and how it is discovered.-Great Excitement.-Terrible Tragedy.—The Victims. The Accusations. The Poison-cup. The Execution. - Visit from Adouma. Sincerity of the Doctors?-Up the River.-Manga-hunts.-A Manga Doctor.-Keeping a Creditor.-Querlaouen.-An African Tragedy.-Fight on the River. Toward Ashira-land.-The Ashira Plains.-Splendid View.

Ar last I was ready to make another start; my health restored, my spirits in some measure recovered, and eager for the new region.

On the 10th of October, 1859, Quengueza was still too weak to travel, so I determined to start without him.

Ranpano and his people had been urging me for some time not to go; and now, when I was all ready, the old king called a grand palaver, which I attended, and of which the chief purpose was to persuade me not to venture into the interior.

My good old friend Ranpano was really solicitous about me. He made me an address, in which he informed me that he had heard the interior people wanted to get me in their power. They wanted to kill me, in order to make a fetich of my hair. They had very many fetiches already, and were very anxious to make their collection complete-so it appeared.

I replied that I had no fear of them; that, so far, I had been brought back safely to them, and I was willing to trust my God again.

Then he said, "We love you. You are our white man. What you tell us we do. When you say it is wrong, we do not do it. We take care of your house, your goats, your fowls, your parrots, your monkeys. You are the first white man that settled among us, and we love you."

To which all the people answered, "Yes, we love him! He is our white man, and we have no other white man."

Then the king said, "We know that writing talks. Write us, therefore, a letter to prove to your friends, if you do not come back, that it was not we who hurt you."

440

I AM MADE A MAKAGA.

To this followed various objections to my going, to all of which I was obliged to make grave answer.

Finally, when they gave me up, all exclaimed, in accents of wonder, "Ottangani angani! (man of the white men) what is the matter with you that you have no fear? God gave you the heart of a leopard! You were born without fear!"

More than a year ago the Camma gave me the title of "makaga," an honorable name, which only one man, and he the bravest, in any village may bear. The office of the makaga is to lead in all desperate affairs. For instance, if any one has murdered one of his fellow-villagers, and the murderer's town refuses to give him up (which is almost always the case, they thinking it shame to surrender any one who has taken refuge with them), then it is the business of the makaga to take the best men of the villages, lead them to the assault of that which protects the murderer, and destroy that, with its inhabitants. It is remarkable that, in all the Camma country, the murder of a free man is punished with the death of the murderer. My title was rather an honorary one, as I was never called on to execute justice among them.

At last Ranpano gave me sixteen men to take me to Goumbi, from where Quengueza's people were to set me on. Makondai, the little fellow who had so bravely accompanied me on my last tour, asked to be taken again, and I took him gladly. He is a brave, intelligent lad, and, by his care for my coffee and many other matters, added much to my comfort.

Quengueza could not come with us; but he sent orders to his brother, who reigned in his stead at Goumbi, to give me as many people as I wanted, and to afford me protection as far as I needed it; and specially named Adouma to be the chief of the party who were to accompany me to the Ashira country.

When all this was done, there was, according to African custom, a formal leave-taking. Quengueza's men, Ranpano's, and mine gathered before the old king, who solemnly bade us Godspeed, taking my two hands in his and blowing upon them, as their custom is; saying, "Go thou safely, and return safely."

It is now (October) the full rainy season, and not the most com fortable for traveling. But it is probably the healthiest, and as for the rest, there is little choice. Besides provisions, I took along some wine and brandy to help me in rainy nights, and a goodly quantity of quinine-the one indispensable, without which

A

TREATMENT OF THE SICK.

441

let no man travel in Western Africa. I know the prejudice which exists against this remedy; but I have within this last four years taken fourteen ounces, and live as a proof that it is a useful medicine and a very slow poison.

We arrived at Goumbi on the 13th, after meeting with two very heavy storms of wind and rain on the way. The people asked after their king, who had gone away well, and whom, they thought, I ought to have brought back in the same condition.

I was asked to go and see an old friend of mine, Mpomo, who was now sick. They had spent the night before drumming about his bedside to drive out the devil. But I soon saw that neither drumming nor medicine would help the poor fellow. The film of death was already in his eyes, and I knew he could scarce live through the approaching night. He held out his hand. to me in welcome, and feebly said, "Chally, save me, for I am dying."

He was then surrounded by hundreds of people, most of them moved to tears at their friend's pitiable condition.

I explained to him that I had no power to save him; that my life and his were alike in the hands of God; and that he should commend both body and soul to that one God. But he and all around had the conviction that, if only I wished, I could cure him. They followed me to my house, asking for medicine; and at last, not to seem heartless, I sent him a restorative-something, at least, to make his remaining moments easy. At the same time I warned them that he would die, and they must not blame me for his death. This was necessary, for their ignorance makes them very suspicious.

When I awoke next morning I heard the mournful wail which proclaimed that poor Mpomo was gone to his long rest. This cry of the African mourners is the saddest I ever heard. Its burden is really and plainly, "All is done. There is no hope. We loved him. We shall never see him again." They mourn literally as those who have no hope.

In the last moments of a Camma man who lies at the point of death, his head wife comes and throws herself by him on his bed. Then, encircling his form with her arms, she sings to him songs of love, and pours out a torrent of endearing phrases, all the village standing by uttering wailings and shedding tears. Such a scene was always very touching to me.

442

INCANTATIONS TO DISCOVER A SORCERER.

When I went to his house I saw his poor wives sitting in tears upon the ground, throwing moistened ashes and dust over their bodies, shaving their heads, and rending their clothes.

In the afternoon I heard talk of witchcraft.

The mourning lasted for two days. On the 17th the body, already in a state of decomposition, was put in a canoe and taken to the cemetery of the Goumbi people down the river some fifty miles. It was pitiable to see the grief of his poor wives. They seemed to have really loved him, and sorrowed for him now that he was dead, as they had carefully and lovingly attended upon him till he died. I saw them, on the night of his death, weeping over him, one after the other taking him in her arms. It was a strange sight. In these sorrowful moments there was no sign of jealousy between the poor women, that I could see. All were united by their love for the same object.

It is curious how easily the African women cry. At death all shed copious tears, even when they do not know nor care for the deceased. It is a fashion, and they have really the power to pump up tears on the slightest occasion, or for no occasion at all.

On the day Mpomo was buried proceedings were begun to discover the persons who had bewitched the poor fellow. They could not be persuaded that a young man, hale and hearty but a few weeks ago, could die by natural causes. A great doctor was brought from up the river, and for two nights and days the rude scenes which I have already once given an account of were repeated.

At last, on the third morning, when the excitement of the people was at its height—when old and young, male and female, were frantic with the desire for revenge on the sorcerers, the doctor assembled them about him in the centre of the town, and began his final incantation, which should disclose the names of the murder

ous sorcerers.

Every man and boy was armed, some with spears, some with swords, some with guns and axes, and on every face was shown a determination to wreak bloody revenge on those who should be pointed out as the criminals. The whole town was rapt in an indescribable fury and horrid thirst for human blood. For the first time I found my voice without authority in Goumbi. I did not even get a hearing. What I said was passed by as though no one had spoken. As a last threat, when I saw proceedings