Their only night-light--that grand test of
civilization--is the Mpongwe torch, a yard of hard, black gum,
mixed with and tightly bound up in dried banana leaves. According
to some it is acacia; others declare it to be the "blood" of the
bombax, which is also used for caulking. They gather it in the
forest, especially during the dries, collect it in hollow
bamboos, and prepare it by heating in the neptune, or brass pan.
The odour is pleasant, but fragments of falling fire endanger the
hut, and trimming must be repeated every ten minutes. The sexes
are not separated; as throughout intertropical Africa, the men
are fond of idling at their clubs; and the women, who must fetch
water and cook, clean the hut, and nurse the baby, are seldom
allowed to waste time. They are naturally a more prolific race
than those inhabiting the damp, unhealthy lowlands, and the
number of the children contrasts pleasantly with the "bleak
house" of the debauched Mpongwe, who puts no question when his
wife presents him with issue.
In the cool of the morning Fitevanga, king of Mayyan, lectured me
upon the short and simple annals of the Fan.
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