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CHAPTER XV

IN THE OPEN COUNTRY AT LAST. – INTERVIEW WITH MAYOLO. – IGALA FALLS SICK. – A MUTINY. – THE OTANDO PRAIRIE ON FIRE. – RETURN OF MACONDAI AND IGALO. – THEIR ADVENTURES. – ALL TOGETHER AGAIN

A stretch of open undulating country was before me. Guns were fired by my men, and soon after I entered the first Otando village. It was the village of Mayolo, who was the only chief that was willing to receive me. We went right to the ouandja, and I seated myself in the centre of the building. Soon after, the beating of the kendo was heard; Mayolo, the chief, his body streaked with alumbi chalk, was coming, muttering mysterious words as he advanced toward me. When he came nearer, he shouted, "Here is the great Spirit, with his untold wealth." The language of the Otando people was the same as that of the Ashiras, so I had no difficulty in understanding him. He looked at me with perfect astonishment for a while, and then told me the trouble he had with his people on my account, since they did not want me to come into the country; "for," said they, "he brings the plague and death wherever he goes." "I told them that the plague had killed our people before we ever heard of you, and that the plague was in our country before it went to the Ashira Land to kill the people there."

"That was right," said I; "Mayolo, I love you; I kill no people – I send no plague. I will be your friend, and the friend of your people."

As Mayolo was talking to me, I took a good look at him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and almost yellow in color; his eyes were small and piercing. When young he had gone toward the sea, and in his trading had succeeded in buying a gun, and, not knowing how to load it, it had burst and taken off three of his fingers while firing at an elephant.

After Mayolo had retired, a large goat and two enormous bunches of plantains were brought before me. I wish you could have seen the faces of my Commi men, the prospect of a good meal made them grin so complacently.

Immediately after Mayolo had taken leave of me I went to see Igala. Poor Igala was very sick: the plague had seized him; his body seemed a mass of putrid flesh. How glad he was to see me! I do believe he would have died if I had not come to take care of him. There he lay in a large hut, with all my goods around him. I went to him, took hold of both his hands, and looked him in the face. He said, "Chally, are you not afraid to get the plague by taking my hands?" "No," said I; "Igala, I will take care of you as if you were my brother." Immediately I warmed some water in a kettle, and then washed him delicately, and he felt more comfortable.

Poor Igala! he was my right arm, my fighting man. I depended upon him.

The next morning, opening my packages and boxes, I saw the sad havoc the Ashira thieves had made with my goods. They had stolen a great deal, but, strange to say, they had left a certain quantity in each parcel.

I felt furious at the discovery. Oh, how sorry I was that Igalo and Macondai had remained behind; for, if they had not, the Ashiras would never have gone back to their own country: I would have made porters of them.

I boldly accused Mintcho of the robbery, and seized the gun he had. The hypocritical rascal pretended to be in a rage at the discovery I had made; he foamed at the mouth, and exclaimed, "Let me go back, Chally; I will find the robbers, and kill them if they do not give up every thing you have lost."

Just at this time his brother Ayagui came, with a gun which Rebouka had foolishly lent him. I ordered him to give up the gun; he was unwilling, and threatened to shoot the first man who approached him. When I heard this, I ordered my four Commi men to level their guns at him and shoot him dead if in an instant he did not lay it on the ground. The gun was handed to Mayolo.

The Ashiras thought the end of Ayagui had come, and fled in the direction of the forest. We pursued them, and captured one, whom I resolved to retain as a hostage for the restitution of my property; but it so happened that the captive was the son of Adingo, an Ashira chief who was a good friend of mine. The guilty Ashiras were terribly frightened, and I shouted, "Bring the things back, and the boy shall be returned."

Mintcho, in his flight, passed near Igala, who could have seized him, but, as his shelter was a little way off, Igala did not suspect his intentions, and let him escape, thinking that he was only going into the woods.

The Otando people had seen by our prompt action of what stuff we were made. I regretted the necessity for such measures, but it was the first time since I began my travels that the natives had dared to rob me on the road, and the news would spread. All this was Rogueri's doings.

In the mean time, Rebouka had secured our little prisoner so tightly with ropes that he fairly moaned with pain. As I came up to him, he said, "Chally, you are my father's great friend. I am but a child; I can not run away. The Ashiras will come back with all your stolen goods. I am your boy; I did not leave you in the woods, but followed you here. Do loosen the cords which hurt me so much." I ordered Rebouka to slacken the cords, which he did; but he remonstrated firmly, saying that I was too kind; that I did not know negroes; that negroes were not children at that age. "Do you think," said he, "that a child could have come from the Ashira country here with the load this boy has carried?" We then secured him under the veranda of my hut, and I set a watch over him during the night. Mayolo recommended me to keep a good lookout on the boy, "for," said he, "the goods are sure to come back." Adingo was a powerful chief, and, as soon as he should hear of the cause of his son's captivity, he would threaten war, and, in order to secure peace, every thing would have to be returned.

The moon was full, and it was quite light, so that every thing around could be easily seen.

Rebouka was right; I had loosened the cords too much, and the cunning little fellow escaped during that first night. I felt sorry, for I knew now that nothing that had been stolen would ever come back, especially with Macondai and Igalo in the hands of the Ashiras; but, after all, I did not feel so badly as if some others of the Ashiras had run away. If I had only secured Mintcho, I assure you he would never have run away. Happily I had a great many goods left, and all the scientific instruments necessary to make astronomical observations.

The next morning Mayolo, being the head man of his clan, ordered the chiefs of the different villages of the clan to come to see me. They came, and a grand reception took place. Mayolo made a great speech. I gave presents to the men who had come to fetch me out of the woods, and to all the leading men and women. Then Mayolo shouted, pointing to the goods, "This is the plague the Spirit brings."

We had hardly been four days in Otando Land when Mayolo fell ill. How sorry I felt! Fear seized upon his people. Surely I was an evil spirit. Olenda had died; I had killed him, and now I wanted to kill Mayolo. Night after night I was kept awake with anxiety, for Mayolo was very unwell. I found that he had a disease of the heart; his sufferings were intense at times, and his moanings filled me with distress. Surely if Mayolo was to die I could not advance a step farther inland.

A few days after my arrival I had an uncomfortable fright; the Otando prairie became a sheet of fire, and threatened the destruction of the village of Mayolo. Should the fire get into the village, I said to myself, what a terrible explosion would take place! So I immediately called the men and moved the powder into the woods. Happily, the natives prevented the fire from reaching the village.

Time went on slowly, and one day, about noon, as I was wondering when Igalo and Macondai would come back to us, I heard guns fired in the forest. My Commi men at that time were round me. Perhaps the Ashiras were coming back with their plunder! We looked toward the path which led into the forest, when lo! what should we see but Macondai, my boy, and Igalo. They were safe. A wild cheer welcomed them, and they went directly to the olako or hospital, where Igala and Rebouka were confined with confluent small-pox, for, since my return Rebouka had been seized with the malady. Igalo left Macondai with them, and continued his way to our village, to give me mbolo, "good-morning salutation." The Otando people seemed almost as delighted as ourselves. We were again all together. I had now learned wisdom, and promised myself never to divide our party again, happen what might. After I had heard the news from Igalo, I went to the camp, and there I looked at my boy Macondai, and took his hand into mine. What a sight! Poor Macondai was more frightfully disfigured than I could possibly have imagined, or than I can describe, and I shuddered as I gazed upon him. A chill ran through me as I thought he might not yet recover, but I felt so thankful that I had all the medicines necessary for his proper treatment.

"Macondai, my boy," I said, "you do not know how glad I am to see you. You do not know how often I have thought of you; indeed, several times I wanted to go back for you."

I seated myself on a log of wood, and all was silence for a little while. Then Macondai spoke and said, "Chally, I have been very ill; I thought I would die." The boy's throat was too full; he could say no more. Then Igalo, his companion, became the spokesman, and I give you the whole of his speech just as it was written out by me at the time. "Chally, after you left us we went to an olako in a plantation close by, where we slept. Ondonga took us there, saying that the head man was his ogoï (relation), and that he would take care of us. Then he said he was going to Ademba (Olenda village), to see how things were getting along in the village, and that he would return in two days. He borrowed from us our cutlass, saying that he would return it when he came back. This was the last we saw of him. Then the next day the chief came and said he wanted his pay for keeping us, as we staid in his olako. Finally he agreed that he would wait till Macondai could get well.

"Four days after you had gone, some of the boys who had accompanied you returned. We knew that they could not have gone to the Otando country and got back in so short a time, and, being well aware themselves that we knew it, they said at once, 'We have left Chally with Mintcho and the other people one day's journey from the Otando country, for we have had palavers with the Otando people, and we were afraid to proceed farther for fear that the Otando people would seize us;' and they also went away. Some time afterward Ayagui and Etombi made their appearance. They said they had left you well, but that you said you would not pay them until Macondai had come to the Otando; and they added, 'Make haste, Macondai, and cure yourself, so that we may go. If you were well now, I would say we must go in two days; that would just give us time to rest and get food for the journey.' Then, as they were leaving, they said they would come back in two days. This was the last we saw of them. Then the chief wanted us to move off. Macondai said he was so ill that he could not move; 'I would rather die where I am.' I did not want," said Igalo, "to go back to the plantation or to the village. I had had enough of Olenda's village. Then the chief took another tack. 'What shall I do?' said he. 'Ondonga, who brought you to me, has not again shown himself here; he has deserted you.' And he added, 'These people have come back. Chally has seized two gangs of slaves because the Ashira stole some of his things, and Mintcho has come to see if he can get the things back, for one of the gangs seized belongs to him, and the other to Ondonga.' The chief left us after saying this, telling us that he was going to see a friend, and would come back in the evening, and we never saw him again. Three days afterward two old men and three young lads came; they slept near us, and said, 'Igalo, you must not stop washing Macondai's body; we see that you wash only his leg.' By seeing me taking great care of Macondai's leg they thought we probably intended to leave, which we wanted to do as soon as Macondai was well enough to walk. Then they added, 'Go to the spring, and fetch plenty of water, and wash Macondai well, for this disease requires it.' Then," said Igalo, "I went to the spring, and during the time I was gone they plundered us of our things, seized the gun I had left behind, and Macondai's double-barreled gun, a box containing beads and our clothes, and escaped to the woods, and when I came back with the water I learned our misfortune. They had come to the plantation under the pretext of getting plantains.

"When I saw how things stood – that we had not a gun with which to defend ourselves – mistrusting the Ashiras, I thought best to leave the place, and said to Macondai, 'Let us go.' Rebouka had told us the road before you left for the Otando, so we loaded ourselves with plantains which we got in the plantations, and left at once, with the utmost speed, the deserted olako, and we have been four nights and four days on the road."

"Well done!" we shouted with one voice; "well done, boys! Macondai and Igalo, you are men! you are men!"

"Then," added Igalo, "I forgot to tell you that the man of the olako had told us that Mintcho and Ondonga had made a plot for a general robbery, but that you watched them so closely that they could not accomplish it."

I was so angry that I felt very much like going to the Ashira country, all of us armed to the teeth, when my followers should have quite regained their health and strength, and carrying fire and sword through all the villages that belonged to the clan of Olenda, and raising the whole country against them. I knew I could have done this easily, but then I had not come to make war.

After hearing the pitiful story of Macondai and Igalo I went back to the village, and heated some water in one of my huge kettles; then, returning to the camp, I gave poor Macondai a tepid bath with a sponge, and ordered some chicken soup to be prepared for the sufferer.

How poor Macondai enjoyed his soup! It did me good to see him lap it up. I had forbidden him to eat any thing without my permission, telling him that I should feed him well, so that he might get strong, but that it would be some few days before I could let him eat to his heart's content, for he had been starved so long that I was afraid he would get ill if he was permitted to indulge his appetite to repletion.

Though filled with anxiety about Macondai, I slept well that night. We were all together again; it was so nice, for getting all our party together again gave me a lively satisfaction.

CHAPTER XVI

TERRIBLE STORMS OF THUNDER. – DAYS OF ANXIETY. – SHOOTING AN ANTELOPE. – BRIGHTER PROSPECTS. – MAYOLO HAS A HARD TIME WITH HIS DOCTORS. – BASKET-MAKING

How strange the Otando prairie looks since the fire has burnt the grass! Tens of thousands of gigantic mushroom-like ant-hills are seen every where. I had never met such a great number before. I have given you a picture of these queer ant-hills in my "Apingi Kingdom."

We are in the season of tornadoes, of thunder and lightning. Hardly a day passes that some terrible storm does not burst upon us; and such thunder – how terrific! We have not the slightest idea at home of what thunder is. Among the mountains here it is perfectly appalling and terrific. It is grand and sublime, and fills one with awe. The whole of the heavens at times seems entirely illuminated by the lightning; and I find that it rains quite often during the day. The heaviest tornadoes in these regions seem to occur in the month of April.

Days pass in the Otando country which are full of anxiety for me. Mayolo is sick, and some of my Commi men are down with the plague. Oh dear, how the time is going! How far the head waters of the Nile are! What a tremendous journey ahead! How many days of hunger do I see looming before me; how many days of sickness and of anxious care! But my heart is strong. God has been kind to me. The plague has spared me; it has been around me; it has lived with me, and in my own dwelling; and I stand safe amid the desolation that it has spread over the country. I am surrounded here by savage men. May I live uprightly, so that, after I have left, the people may think well of me!

But when am I ever to leave this Otando country? Just as I am wondering over this, and thinking of the principal events that have taken place since I left the sea-shore, my revery is broken by the barking of my dogs in the prairie. I look, and what do I see? A beautiful antelope closely pursued by my six dogs. Andèko, and Commi-Nagoumba, and Rover cling to the neck of the antelope, with their teeth in the flesh, while Turk, Fierce, and Ndjègo are barking and biting the poor creature wherever they can. I run with the villagers in chase. Soon I am on the spot, and, aiming carefully at the beast, I bring it down with a single shot. It is a very fine hart. There is great joy in the village, and I divide the meat among the villagers, giving a big piece to friend Mayolo, who is delighted, for he says he is very fond of antelope's meat.

By the end of April things began to look bright. Mayolo was getting well; Macondai was improving very fast, and Igala and Rebouka were almost recovered. But, as soon as Mayolo got better, he was more afraid than ever of witchcraft, and he and his people had a great time in "pona oganga." Pona oganga is a strange ceremony, which I am about to describe to you. It was performed because Mayolo wanted to know who were the people who had bewitched his place, and made the plague come among his people.

A great doctor had been sent for, and, after his arrival, he went into a hut, carrying with him a large bag. Soon afterward he came out, looking horribly. He was dressed in a most fantastic manner: his body was painted with ochre of three different colors – red, white, and black; he wore a necklace formed of bones, the teeth of animals, and seeds; around his waist was a belt of leather, from which dangled the feathers of the ogoloungoo; and his head-dress was made of a monkey's skin. As he came out he spoke in an unnatural and hollow voice, then filled a large basin with water, looked intently into it, and shook his head gravely, as if the signs were bad. Then he lighted a big torch, and looked steadily at the flame, as if trying to discover something, moved the torch over the water, shook his body terribly, smoked a condo-quai, made a number of contortions and gestures, and again spoke in a loud tone, repeating the same words over and over. The people, in the mean time, were silent, and looked at the great man attentively. Then he gazed steadily into the water again, and said, while the people listened in breathless silence, "There are people in your own village who want to bewitch it, and bring the plague and kill people." Immediately a great commotion took place. The crowd shouted, "Death to the sorcerers!" and rose up and swore vengeance. "The mboundou must be drunk!" cried Mayolo; "we want no wizards or witches among us." The paths leading to the village were closed. No strangers were to be admitted.

The next morning the village was empty; the people had all gone into the woods. I could hear their voices; they had gone to make some of their number drink the mboundou.

Poor Mayolo really had a hard time with his different doctors. He was continually changing them, and they came from all the adjacent villages. At last he gave up the men doctors, and had a celebrated female doctor, an old, wrinkled woman, who had gained a great reputation. The visit of a physician among these people is very unlike that of a physician at home. This female doctor was a very singular person. She appeared to be about sixty years of age, and was short, and tattooed all over. When she came to make her visit she was dressed for the occasion. Her body was painted, and she carried a box filled with charms. When Mayolo expected her he was always ready, seated on a mat, and with a genetta-skin by him. The female doctor would come in muttering words which nobody could understand; then she would rub Mayolo's body with her hand, and mark his forehead with the chalk of the alumbi; then she made a broad mark with the chalk on his chest, and drew stripes the whole length of his arms, muttering unintelligibly all the time; she then chewed the leaves of some medicinal plant, and spat the juice over Mayolo's body, especially on the affected part, near the heart, still muttering magical words. Afterward she lighted a bunch of a peculiar kind of grass, and as it burned, made the flames almost touch the body of poor Mayolo. Two or three times it seemed as if the fire was burning him. She began the fire-ceremony at the sole of his foot, gradually ascending to the head, and, when the flames ceased, she made the smouldering fire touch his person.

When I asked her why she used fire, she said that it was to prevent disease from coming into Mayolo's body from the outside.

All this time the Otando people were busy making otaitais, or porters' baskets. The otaitai is a very ingenious contrivance for carrying loads in safety on the backs of men. I have brought one of these baskets home, and preserve it as a keepsake. It is long and narrow; the wicker-work is made of strips of a very tough climbing plant; the length is about two and a half feet, and the width nine inches; the sides are made of open cane-work, capable of being expanded or drawn in, so as to admit of a larger or smaller load. Cords of bast are attached to the sides, for the purpose of securing the contents. Straps made of strong plaited rushes secure the basket to the head and arms of the carrier, as shown in the preceding picture.