Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People by Paul B. (Paul Belloni) Du Chaillu

Author:Paul B. (Paul Belloni) Du Chaillu [Chaillu, Paul B. Du]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nonfiction, Travel
ISBN: 4064066158941
Google: -OAYAAAAYAAJ
Publisher: Good Press
Published: 2019-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER XVI.

FUNERAL OF THE GORILLA'S VICTIM.—A MAN'S HEAD FOR THE ALUMBI.—THE SNAKE AND THE GUINEA-FOWL.—SNAKE KILLED.—VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE ALUMBI.—DETERMINE TO VISIT THE SEA-COAST.

Now the people were to bury the man who had been killed by that big gorilla. His kindred arrived to get the body to carry it to his village. Every man had his body and face painted in all sorts of colors. They also wore their fetiches, and looked like so many devils coming out of the woods.

After traveling the whole day we came to a strange village on the top of a hill, at the foot of which there was a beautiful little stream, the water of which never dried during the season when there was no rain.

As soon as we made our appearance the sounds of wailing and weeping filled the air. The body was taken to the house of the deceased, where his widows—for he had three wives—mourned, and wept, and cried so that I felt the greatest sympathy for them.

At sunset silence reigned in the village. All the women had gone into their huts, while the men seated themselves on the ground or on their little stools. But suddenly a great wailing rent the air, and from every hut came lamentations—sounds that were heart-rending. Then they sang songs, praising the departed one—songs such as I have described to you young folks in "Stories of the Gorilla Country."

At last, after two days, six stout men, covered with fetiches and painted in the most fantastic manner, came to take the body, to leave it in the woods under some big tree.

As soon as they were ready the tam-tams began to beat, and songs of sorrow were chanted as they disappeared from the village. I followed the body, for I wished to see what they would do. After a while we got into the jungle, and soon came to a spot where the body was left. A fire was lighted by its side, no doubt with the idea of keeping him warm; then some boiled plantains, and a piece of cooked elephant and some smoked fish, were put in a dish of wicker-work and placed at his head. All the while the men kept muttering words I did not understand.

The day after the funeral, toward sunset, while I was looking for birds in the forest, trying to obtain some new specimens which I might never have seen before, I fell in with the brother of the deceased, and saw that he was carrying something carefully packed—something which I could not make out. I asked him what it was. At first he replied, "Nothing." Then I said, "You must tell me." Thinking that I was getting angry, he then answered, "Moguizi, I will tell you what it is. It is the head of my brother who was buried yesterday, and I have just been to get it." "The head of your brother!" I exclaimed; "and why have you cut off the head of

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