CHAPTER X

Religion

Central Africa may be said to have no religion, if by that we understand belief in a God. It has produced no Buddha or Mahommed to make known to its people some revelation of a deity, neither has it possessed any ancient writings that a Confucius could bind together as a foundation to a nation’s creed. In its belief we see the most pitiable product of a dark, ignorant, and degraded mind, that, left to itself, has worked out some antidote for that which is inherent in every man—an indefinable longing after the spiritual. Its faith bears in it the seeds of inevitable decay, for in its tenets can be found no trace of truth, purity, or holiness, which, varying however much they may in degree, hold together the great religious systems of the world. It might be described briefly as Devil-worship or the Propitiation of Evil Spirits; it differs in its rites and rituals among the various tribes. In Uganda the practices of the people were more extreme, perhaps, but certainly less torturing than in the Western Provinces of the Protectorate, where superstition led to the most barbarous infliction of human suffering from the cradle to the grave. For every real or imaginary evil and sickness that fell upon the individual, family, or community, branding, cutting, and mutilation of the body took place; while, without exception, all the front teeth in the lower jaw were extracted as soon as ever they appeared.

These customs, practised for so many generations, have had a very deteriorating effect on the physical constitution of the people. The strength of the natives has been sapped, their minds degraded, and their energies crushed. They possess very small physical resources, and fall an easy prey to any sickness that visits their district.

A few years ago, before the teachers of Christianity reached their country, tiny devil temples, made of grass and twigs, stood in the courtyards of the houses, and in these were placed, from time to time, offerings of cowrie shells or food. One day there was brought to me at the dispensary a child who was said to be devil-possessed. The physic prescribed was so far successful that the grateful mother brought a little thank-offering. It consisted of ten cowrie shells tied round a small piece of papyrus stalk. When the child had fallen ill, the mother had tied one of these shells to the strip of grass and given it as a propitiatory offering to the devil; as the sickness increased, each day another shell was added, until, finding her child become rather worse than better, she brought her down to the dispensary. And as the European had done what the devil refused to do, the woman took the shells away from him and gave them to the white lady!

Generally speaking, the people are in partial or total ignorance of their belief; they have never been taught it, and practise the rituals from habit without realising their significance. The priests prescribe what form the offerings shall take and their claims are never questioned; besides this, they extort heavy fees each time they are consulted. They profess to divine the will of the evil spirit by means of charms made of sticks, hide, horns, and the entrails of fowls and goats. When Kasagama was brought from Budu by Sir Frederick Lugard to be re-installed in his kingdom of Toro, from which he had fled, as a young prince, from the raiding bands of Bunyoro under King Kabarega, a white fowl was killed and examined. The priest declared the omen augured that success and peace should attend his reign. But Kasagama, being unacquainted with what they had done, nearly brought upon himself the worst misfortune by approaching near to the grave of the fowl. Had not his attendants just stopped him from walking over the grave a moral offence would have been perpetrated upon the body of the fowl and its spirit would have avenged the wrong!

By carefully clearing away the accumulated legends of centuries, one finds, however, faint suggestions of a purer belief, which reminds one of a saying by an Indian monarch, who lived in the 3rd century B.C., “The sap of all religions is alike.”

There are a few Batoro whose memory recalls their primitive belief, which, despite the contortions which time and repetition have effected, bear a recognisable similarity to Old Testament revelations.

At the beginning of all history they say God and his brother Nkya were in the world and made all things. Nkya had three sons whom he brought to God to be named, and in order to do so He proved the heart of each man. When the sons were brought in at night, to each of the sons was given a pot full of milk and God ordered them to take care of it until the morning. At midnight the youngest dozed and some of his milk got spilled; then he turned to his brothers and asked them to fill up his pot with a little from each of theirs, and this they did. After a short time the elder son knocked over his pot and all the milk was spilled out. Then he begged the others to give him of theirs, but they refused, saying, “And what shall we do?” When the night had passed God came and uncovered each of the milk pots. To the second son he said, “Where is your milk?” And he answered, “The youngest’s milk was spilled and I filled up his pot.” And to the eldest God said, “And yours?” He replied, “I slept and mine was all upset and I asked my brothers to give me of theirs but they refused.” Then God cursed him and called him Kairu (a little servant), saying that he should become his brothers’ servant. And God said to the youngest, “You shall be called Kakama (Little King), you shall rule all people, you shall be King, and your second brother shall live with you and be your minister.”

After this God took counsel with his brother that they should leave the world and go to their home in heaven, for there was very great sin in the world, and God did not wish to kill man whom he had created. So God and Nkya left the world and Kakama was left to rule the people. The Bunyoro trace all their Kings back to this great Monarch.

Their fifth King was named Kantu, who they say brought punishment and death into the world. Like his predecessors, he disappeared suddenly, and is believed to have gone up to God to beg that disease and death might visit the people. God then spoke with Nkya, his brother, and said it was well people should die and come to life again after four days. But Nkya said, “Let them die absolutely.” After this the little son of the reigning king became ill and died, and the King Isaza sent to God and said, “My son will not wake up.” God said, “What is his sleep like?” And he replied, “Since lying down to sleep he will not move and he does not breathe.” Then God sent to Isaza and told him to dig a hole and bury the child. But the King did not understand what death was, and as he sat in his house he sought for his son and ordered for him to be brought. But his people told him that he would never again see his son; hearing this the King lifted up his hands and as he stood over the grave he cursed all men for the death of his child. For this God plagued his people with sickness, but Isaza remained unsoftened, so God sent death to his second son.

After this the King of Hell sent messages to the King Isaza, tempting him with gifts to make a covenant with him; and after much hesitation Isaza yielded and set out with his companion the Moon to visit the King of Hell. When he had gone some distance the ground suddenly opened, and Isaza was cast down till he reached the gate of Hell, from whence he never returned. Whereupon the moon, grieving over the loss of his royal friend, went up into the sky and has ever remained there.

The method of these people for making a covenant was that of blood-brotherhood.

Each of the two parties took a coffee bean, dipped it in the blood from a small incision made in his body, then handed it to his companion to be eaten. It was a most sacred pledge of indissoluble union, a breach of which met with immediate death. Whoever the King chose to honour with blood brotherhood, was raised to the highest position, regardless of his birth or estate. This has often made clear to them the passage, “we who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.” It is said that when the first English official passed through the neighbouring country of Ankole, the King and people were in a state of great consternation, speculating as to the purport of his visit. The explanations of the Englishmen were not sufficient to allay their suspicions, but on his agreeing to make “blood brotherhood” with the King an understanding was arrived at and the confidence of the people established.

Their ideas of an after life seem to have been of the very vaguest. Their belief that the soul continues to exist after death was evident in that they had a great fear of the spirits of the departed. A man on the death of his wife (or one of them) did not marry again till the body had decayed, for fear of offending the spirit of the dead. Frequently in the villages are to be seen long zig-zag paths leading to the huts that are supposed to baulk the spirits which only travel in straight lines.

Burial takes place immediately after death. The body is wrapped round in bark cloths and with it are buried quantities of white calico, bark cloths, and blankets, according to the wealth of the chief mourner. When the head of the household dies he is buried in the courtyard of his house, after which the hut is removed to another spot, so that the spirit of the deceased shall not trouble the surviving members of the family. When the King died the custom was for five women and four men of the chief families of the land to be taken by force and buried alive with the King, to complete the number ten, so that he should not be alone. A house was then erected over the grave, and inside the surrounding fence the Queen came and lived. Every day at daybreak she went with the keepers of the tomb to clean it down and sweep out the courtyard. They lived on the food and cows stolen from folks passing along on the roads. A man had to forfeit all right to anything claimed for the “Gasani” (the King’s Tomb), and could look for no reparation.

If a man dies without expressing any wish as to the disposal of his belongings, his brothers, and not the wife and children, inherit them. Among the Bahuma tribe the wife is included in the personalty and is handed over as wife to the brother of the deceased. Our small milk boy, of about fourteen years of age, came to me one day with a petition for a rise in his wages, as he found it difficult to support his wife and children on his present earnings. He then went on to explain that his brother had died, leaving him to marry the rather elderly wife, who had two children. I felt the right thing was to sympathise with him, but quickly learned my mistake, for he was very well pleased with his legacy, which gave him a wife to cultivate and cook for him without the usual payment of goats and sheep.

The Batoro have little or no fear of death, in fact some seem rather glad to create a little sensation among their friends by becoming for the time the chief object of interest! On one occasion I was called to visit a dying man in the Namasole’s village. With a little bag of medicine strapped on to my saddle, I rode out to see if anything could be done. An unusual stillness had fallen on everyone, for the sick man was none other than the Katikiro of the place. Suddenly, as I stepped up to the doorway of the hut, there arose a wild shriek from inside; this was taken up immediately by everyone around and the air was rent with wailings and loud, piercing screams—I knew at once my medicine would not be required, but, entering, tried to quiet the frenzied mourners. I drew out from my bag the Gospel of St. John, and read the words “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” Immediately the tumult ceased, and everyone listened to the message of Life spoken in the presence of Death; and as we all knelt in prayer one realised perhaps as never before how death hath been swallowed up in Victory. One of the greatest joys one can know is to wave the torch of Life and Immortality across the darkness of ages that has never known a hope beyond the grave.

The result of the people’s belief is stamped unmistakably on almost everything in the country. With the lack of physical energy has died the desire to master their country. The rich, productive soil, with its abnormal generative properties, has been left uncared for and unkempt, till “thorns also and thistles,” the insignia of a blighted world, cover a land that might have been a veritable Eden.

Tall, tangled weeds creep up to the very doorways of the houses, while most of the roads are merely narrow, beaten tracks. Whenever an attempt is made to tackle an appreciable task, a few days suffices to exhaust the labourer completely; at the end of that time he may be seen in a state of total collapse, with a strip of rag bound tightly round the hand, the outward and visible sign of being _hors de combat_.

In Toro one realises at times the dead weight of life and its environment. The changes of the seasons—spring with the freshness of infancy and vitality of youth; summer decked in the exquisite glory of a new life; autumn and winter folding tired nature up in a long, deep sleep—are sadly missed where the trees are always green. The sympathy in nature is lacking; flowers lose their subtle and delicate charm; the bright, soft sward is there exchanged for the elephant grass with its saw-like blades. The birds have no song; the voices of music and poetry have never been heard; and as age after age has rolled by, no lip has breathed a prayer to its Creator. There are instances when heathenism seems to surround one with such blackness that the soul stands as if isolated in a foreign Land, breathing a new atmosphere in which there is lacking the spiritual ether of one’s native land.