The Eastern Congo 



a native has come up to my camp with a long tale about 

 something or another — how he had helped carry a sick porter, 

 or how he had gone to look for elephants, or how he had done 

 this, that and the other for me — but the end of the yam 

 was just the same and I always knew what was coming — 

 a plea for some salt. Eventually I got heartily tired of 

 giving it out and, moreover, our stock began to run low. 



In these days, since the white man put a check on canni- 

 balism, meat is difficult for the natives to obtain ; the favourite 

 monkey stew comes their way now and again certainly, 

 when a trapper is successful, but not much to fill many 

 mouths ; once a year perhaps a windfall in the way of an 

 elephant, but little enough does each man get of it, when 

 there are at least two hundred people fighting for scraps. 

 So, like the salt, the meat question assumes great importance 

 on the advent of a white man, and he is usually worried to 

 come out and shoot monkeys, or elephants with tusks (so 

 they say) the biggest ever seen. 



Unlike the majority of the Ituri forest tribes, the Wanandi 

 and Wambuba use very little powdered camwood or ngula 

 either as a dj^e or to paint themselves with. This is rather 

 to be wondered at as it is so extensively used throughout 

 the rest of the forest region. Regarding this rosy-coloured 

 camwood, it struck me that there should be a lucrative 

 trade with it amongst certain tribes, the Masai for instance ; 

 for natives who use red dye, and in whose country nothing 

 producing it grows, will pay any price for it in blocks or 

 otherwise. 



For the next ten days we wandered on through the forest 

 accompanied by our cheery Wanandi porters, to whom we 

 took a great hking in spite of their nasty customs. Once 



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