helper, they betake themselves to charms to avert evil and for general protection.
The knowledge of the name of God gives us a good basis to work upon. We can tell them that we bring them a message from Nzambi Himself, not a story of a white man’s God, but their God and ours, and at once we get a ready and deeply interested hearing.
‘Have we seen Nzambi? Does He live in the white man’s land under the sea? How did we hear this news?’ Such are the questions they are ever ready to ask.
On one occasion, at Stanley Pool, a lad from the far upper river sold by Zombo traders to the Bayansi, asked me, ‘But, Mundele, all joking apart, what do you really come here for if you do not want to trade? Tell me truly.’ I told him that we had been commissioned with the message of good news from Nzambi, and that was our real and sole business. ‘What! Nzambi, who lives in the heavens? (Nzambi kun’Ezulu).’ As he said this he pointed up into the sky. Poor boy! I wondered how he knew that there was a God, and that he so instinctively pointed up to the blue sky. I saw him once or twice after that. He soon returned to his distant home, but could tell his people that he had seen white men, who were coming soon to bring them a good message from Nzambi.
They have a very decided idea of a future state, but as to what and where the opinion is much divided. Indeed, there is not the remotest notion that death can be a cessation of being. If any one dies they think that some one, living or dead, has established a connection with the unseen world, and somehow, and for some purpose, has ‘witched away’ the deceased.
When a man is sick he first resorts to bleeding and simple remedies. If no relief is obtained, a native doctor is called. The man’s friends and relatives help him to pay the fee, if large. Having agreed as to the fee, the doctor