Truth About the Congo — VIII, part 2

Many white men do not like to walk, and must have their hammock.

It is a simple hammock, usually made of a strip of foreign stuff swung by ropes to a long bamboo or palm pole.

Unless the person to be carried is extraordinarily heavy, there will be two or four carriers.

When four men are carrying a hammock, two in front and two behind shoulder the pole at its two ends.

Usually the carriers swing along at a sort of dog trot.

Frequently they strike their palms against the carrying pole to make a noise, and indulge in an explosive snort in taking breath.

They may sing or shout or cry when carrying, and if they approach a settlement, either native or foreign, their pace quickens, their exertion increases, they cry and yell with great force, increasing their noise and outcry with the importance of the person carried.

When they rush up to the place where he is expected to dismount, the whole party bursts into a loud yell, which would appall the bravest if he never had heard it before, as they stop suddenly.

For my own part, I can imagine nothing more disagreeable than traveling in a hammock.

The four men rarely are on the same level, and the jolting and movement up and down, now of one’s head and upper body, now of one’s feet tilted high in air, are extremely disagreeable; from one’s position he must look up constantly into the sky and see nothing of the country through which he travels; if the sun shines, his face must be shaded, and if one wears, as he usually must do, his cork helmet, it is difficult to adjust it in any way other than putting it over the face.

Personally, I invariably have a half-day of fever after a hammock journey.

I would rather walk thirty miles every day than to go twenty in a hammock.

There are still opportunities in the Congo for making fine journeys on foot.

From Stanley Falls to the English steamer on the Lake is a foot journey of forty days over a good road.

If I had had the time, I should have made that journey.

There are at present two operating railroads in the Congo Free State, besides a little line of a few miles running from Boma into the country back.

The more important of these two roads is the Congo Railroad, running from Matadi to Leopoldville.

Before its building it took freight three weeks to go by caravan around the cataracts.

The engineering difficulties of this line were all in its early course within a few miles of Matadi.

Several years were spent in the construction of the road, which has a total length of about 250 miles.

It is a narrow-gauge road, well-built, and fairly equipped.

After a train once starts it is entirely in the hands of black men as no white conductor or engineer is employed in its running.

Two classes of cars are run, one for whites, first-class, the other for blacks.

The fare for first-class passage from Matadi to Leopoldville at the time we made the journey was 200 francs, or ; the second-class, jimcrow-car fare, was 40 francs, or . The journey requires two days for its accomplishment.

Starting from Matadi at 7 in the morning, the train reaches Thysville at 5 or 6 in the evening, and stays there for the night.

Starting at 7 the next morning, it is expected to reach Leopoldville at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, but usually is from half an hour to two hours behind time.

The road, during the period of its construction, was often considered a wild speculation, but it has paid remarkably well, and its stock sells at an advance of many hundreds per cent upon face value.

The second serious obstacle to Congo navigation—the Stanley Falls—is got around in a similar way by a railroad line just finished.

This line of railroad from Stanleyville to Ponthierville, is about 75 miles in length.

It has just been finished and at the time of our visit, while it was transporting passengers on account of the state, was not open to general travel.

We had the pleasure, however, of going the full length of the line, a journey which required some eight hours.

The whole course of the railroad is included in dense forest, and nothing is to be seen in all the journey except the forest.

There is no question that this little piece of tracking will have great business importance.

Hundreds of miles of navigable water lie above Ponthierville, and steamers—both state and railroad—are already plying upon it.

A country of great resources is by it brought into near relations with that portion of the Congo already developed.

This piece of road forms but a small part of the line planned, which is known by the name of the Great Lakes railroad.

Construction is in progress upon another section of it.

While we made our journey from Stanleyville to Ponthierville by rail, we made the return journey by canoe, in order to see the rapids.

Of course, the construction of the railroad had already affected this old route and mode of travel.

Until lately all passengers and freight going up the Congo beyond Stanleyville were forced to make the journey by canoe.

It is the district of the Congo where the canoe reaches its fullest development and most striking expression.

There are canoes cut from a single tree-trunk which will carry tons of freight and scores of men.

Some of the great native chiefs had canoes of state in which they were paddled from place to place by a hundred or more paddlers.

While the one in which we made our journey was by no means so pretentious, it was certainly large enough for all practical purposes.

An awning, or rather a thatched roofing, extended over the middle third of its length to protect us and our things from the sun.

An officer of the state, an Italian, accompanied us through half our journey to see that we met with prompt and proper treatment.

And two native soldiers were deputed to accompany us the total distance and to take the canoe in charge when we finally reached the landing at Stanley Falls.

It was a most interesting experience, for nothing that I had read had prepared me for so well developed a system.

When we came to the rapids we and our stuff were landed.

The signal had been given as we approached the beach, and by the time that we were ready to take the trail around the rapids the women of the native village had presented themselves with carrying straps, ready to move our freight.

In ten minutes time everything was ready and the caravan upon its way, twenty or thirty women carrying our boxes, satchels, provisions, and collections.

Meantime, our paddlers were occupied in passing the canoe down through the rapids, and by the time we reached the lower beach they were there ready for re-embarkation.

We took five days for our journey, though it might have been done in half that time or even less.

At each village where we landed we found arrangements for the traveler.

A neat house of two or three rooms, constructed by the state, was at our disposition.

It was supplied with table, chairs, and beds.

Near the house for white travelers was a comfortable hangar for blacks, and near it a large hangar for the storage of freight and baggage.

The paddlers who started with us at Ponthierville were dismissed after a day of service and a new set of paddlers taken on, furnished by the village chief.

These, after a few hours of service, were again at liberty, and a new crew supplied.

Everything was done with promptitude and readiness.

The journey was one of the most interesting I ever made.

You understand, of course, that all this service, the carrying of freight around the rapids by the women of the village and the supplying of male paddlers by the chief were taxes to the state, for which a nominal return in money or trade goods is allowed.

At no point did we see the slightest evidence of difficulty in furnishing the service or of dissatisfaction in supplying it.

Everywhere the people seemed to take it as a pleasant thing.

It is entirely possible that when the caravan service was at its height and all freighting and traveling was done upon the river, it may have been a heavier burden.

But nowhere did the people seem to show fear, hostility, or the effects of bad treatment.

If we had made the long walking trip above referred to, from Stanleyville to the Lake, we would have found analogous arrangements for the traveler’s comfort.

Good sleeping-houses, with necessary furniture, occur at intervals of four or five hours throughout the entire journey, and no one need sleep out of doors a single night, unless he chooses to do so.

It will be seen that one to-day may go easily throughout the enormous area of the Congo Free State without serious hardship and really with much comfort.

But, as a matter of fact, there are almost no true travelers in the area.

One can hardly call a state official, on his way to his post, or going from place to place in the performance of his duty, a traveler.

Nor is a company agent, making his tour for the collection of rubber, or for inspection of property, exactly one’s ideal of a traveler.

Nor is the missionary, coming back from furlough or going home invalided, a traveler.

The number of actual travelers in the Congo at any time is small.

My photographer and myself, I think, might be called travelers.

We spent fifty-three weeks in the Congo Free State.

During the period of time that we were there we learned that Mr. A.

Henry Savage-Landor spent a few days in the High Ubangi.

He came in from the north, visited only one station of a company, and then went out again.

Mr. Harrison, who, some little time ago, took a group of pygmies from the High Ituri forest to London, was again in the country, though he had left his little people behind him.

At the same time, an English gentleman was hunting the okapi (that curious antelope) in the same district.

When we were coming out and were delayed at Leopoldville, a Capt. Daniels of the English navy arrived at Leopoldville, having made his way across the continent from the east coast.

At Bolengi we met a Mr. Creighton, an American clergyman, who had made the way so far from Mombasa.

Mr. Verner, bringing back his native group from the St. Louis exposition, was in the Congo during the same period.

On the steamer coming down from Stanley Falls, we had for fellow passengers, M. and Mme.

Cabra.

M.

Cabra was a royal commissioner, having been sent to the country by Leopold himself, to make a careful examination of conditions throughout the whole upper region of the Ituri and Congo rivers.

M.

and Mme.

Cabra entered Africa at Mombasa; they had traversed on foot the forty days of journey I have referred to, but as the purposes of their investigation required them to zigzag back and forth instead of following a direct path, they had occupied a much longer period of time and covered much more distance.

Eighteen months on their long journey, they both of them reached Matadi in good health, and Mme.

Cabra is probably the first lady to have crossed the African continent in the equatorial regions from ocean to ocean.

Now, these were the only travelers besides one Frenchman, who was a mystery, of whom we heard or whom we met in our fifty-three weeks in Congo experience.

It is unlikely that there were many others.

The stranger in the Congo is talked of everywhere.

We were not within hundreds of miles of Henry Savage-Landor, or Mr. Harrison, or the okapi hunter, but we heard of their existence.

Even if the given list is but the half of Congo travelers during the year, it can be seen that the real traveler is a rarity within the limits of the state.