baked. Those pots of the Bubis I have seen have, however,
not had the pattern (any sort of pattern does, and it need not
, be carefully done) that runs round mainland pots to “ keep
their souls in "— i.e. to prevent their breaking up on their
own account.
Their basket-work is of a superior order : the baskets they
make to hold the semi-fluid palm oil are excellent, and will
hold water like a basin, but I am in doubt whether this art is
original, or imported by the Portuguese runaway slaves, for
they put me very much in mind of those made by my old
friends the Kabinders, from whom a good many of those
slaves were recruited. I think there is little doubt that several
of the musical instruments own this origin, particularly their
best vbeloved one, the elibo. This may be described as a
wooden bell having inside it for clappers several (usually five)
pieces of stick threaded on a bit of wood jammed into the
dome of the bell and striking the rim, beyond which the
clappers just protrude. These bells are very like those you
meet with in Angola, but I have not seen on the island, nor
does Dr. Baumann cite having seen, the peculiar double bell
of Angola— the engongui. The Bubi bell is made out of one
piece of wood and worked— or played— with both hands. Dr.
Baumann says it is customary on bright moonlight nights for
two lines of men to sit facing each other and to clap— one can
hardly call it ring— these bells vigorously, but in good time,
accompanying this performance with a monotonous song, while
the delighted women and children dance round. The learned
doctor evidently sees the picturesqueness of this practice, but
notes that the words of the songs are not “ tiefsinnige ” (profound),
as he has heard men for hours singing “ The shark
bites the Bubi’s hand,” only that over and over again and
nothing more. This agrees with my own observations of all
Bantu native songs. I have always found that the words o f
these songs were either the repetition of some such phrase as
this, or a set of words referring to the recent adventures or experiences
of the singer or the present company’s little peculiarities
; with a very frequent chorus, old and conventional
I shall never forget a white man coming alongside a ship
whereon I was once a passenger, quite unconscious that his
boatswain was singing as a solo : “ Here we bring this wretched
creature: he’s a very bad man : he does not give us any food,
or any money: he goes and gets drunk and ” but I forbear
repeating the text of the libel. But after each statement the
rest of the crew joined in a chorus which was the native
equivalent of—“ and so say all of us.”
The native tunes used with these songs are far superior, and
I expect many of them are very old. They are often full of
variety and beauty, particularly those of the M’pongwe and
Galwa, of which I will speak later.
The dances I have no personal knowledge of, but there is
nothing in Baumann’s description to make one think they are
distinct in themselves from the mainland dances. I once saw
a dance at Fernando Po, but that was among Portos, and it
was my old friend the Batuco in all its’ beauty. But there is
a distinct peculiarity about the places the dances are held on,
every village having a kept piece of ground outside it
which is the dancing place for the village— the ball-room as
it were; and exceedingly picturesque these dances must be,
for they are mostly held during the nights of full moon.’
These kept grounds remind one very much of the similar
looking patches of kept grass one sees in villages in Ka
Congo, but there is no similarity in their use, for the Ka Congo
lawns are of fetish, not frivolous,.import.
The Bubis have an instrument I have never seen in an
identical form on the mainland. It is made like a bow, with
a tense string of fibre. One end of the bow is placed against
the mouth, and the string is then struck by the right hand
with a small round stick, while with the left it is Scraped with
a piece of shell or a knife-blade. This excruciating instrument,
I warn any one who may think of living among the
Bubis, is very popular. The drums used are both the Dualla
form all wood and the ordinary skin-covered drum, and I
think if I catalogue fifes made of wood, I shall have’ nearly
finished the Bubi orchestra. I have doubts on this point because
I rather question whether I may be allowed to refer to
a very old bullock hide— unmounted— as a musical instrument
without bringing down the wrath of musicians on my head,
these stiff, dry pelts are much thought of, and played by the