Black Majesty—And a White Bride

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1004, 21 June 1930, Page 20

Black Majesty — And a White Bride

Girl Who Sought Adventure as Consort of Dusky Monarch .. . Victim of Jealous Native Wives . . . The Deadly Splinter of Wood . . .

This Is the story of the tragedy of a ' ■ nturesome ichite girl tcho could not be dissuaded from marrying a black king named Marakamba, as told by Captain t.ouis P. Bolder ( the famous explorer i tci author of -‘African Nights"). _ N a small bottle in a surf v Sery somewhere in Paris ’Tt-mIiiTP! * s a ar bed splinter o£ KtfMRZI woo< * wbich wrecked the life of an Knglish girl and ca used two African women to be roasted alive. The story is one of the most unusual of many that have come my way in the course of a career filled with the mysterious and bizarre, and, since I bore a small part in the unravelling of the plot, I can attest its accuracy. Jhis innocent-looking sliver links the French capital with an ill-kept kraal in one of the wildest parts of Africa, and, incidentally, with a crying scandal—the marriage of white women with black men. Some years ago, anyone glancing through the books of a certain French matrimonial agency would have been surprised to find the name of an African king among the list of clients. The black man wanted a white wife. He already had five native wives, but he realised that a white woman in his house would lend him prestige which none of the neighbouring and rival monarchs would be able to outdo. To secure this benefit be promised to setlle £I,OOO a year by way of pin money upon the woman he chose; to ad her with jewels and make her to queen of his harem. One would think that a proposition this kind would find little response ten among the most ignorant of hite women. Yet the black king weired no fewer than 260 applica- . ons. Many letters came from England, and among them one from a Lancashire lassie who found life in a cotton town too slow for her adventurous temperament. The King's Choice Some time later this girl was delighted to hear that the king’s choice had fallen upon her, and that she was expected to proceed to Africa forthwith. The thought of becoming a queen, even though it were only of a tribe of niggers, had quite turned her head, and the fact that her passage money had been forwarded augured to her inexperienced mind a munificent treatment once she was firmly installed on her golden throne. It was shortly after this that I began to play my part In the story. 1 was staying in a French town on the West African coast, when one morning my clerk, an educated black man, amazed me by asking. “Will Massa please meet white Missie on boat today? Missie wife for King Marakamba.” Naturally, before I agreed to so unusual a request, I asked for all partit nlars, and my man told me the story ot the King Marakamba, and his impending marriage. He concluded by saying that for a black man to meet a white lady would cause gossip. Thinking that I might be able to dissuade the girl from taking a step ihat she would be certain to regret, I agreed to meet her and arranged my affairs so that I should bo able to see her up-country should she be determined to continue the adventure. She turned out to be a bonny lassie named Marie, full of excitement and romantic ideas. Not even the gloomy prognostications of her fellow passengers had damped her spirit, I soon saw that it would be useless for me

to add anything to what had already been told her. “You know', Rooinek,” she replied, in response to my rather feeble objections, “a contract's a contract, even if it is made with a black gentleman, and I’m going through with it.’’ Shock For Bride She insisted on referring to that old scamp Marakamba as a “gentleman.” She had read a great deal of cheap literature about Africa, and thought of a native king as a fine fellow in top hat, kid gloves and spats. When she found out that these three items constitute practically the whole of his apparel poor Marie was shocked. But she bore up bravely. “Oh, well, it’ll be a change from the life at home,” she said with a shrug of her slim shoulders,” and that’s dull enough, goodness knows.” But I don’t think she was altogether happy about her prospects when we set off up country and passed through the first native kraals, she had ever seen. Perhaps it was an increasing unhappiness that led her to tell me her story. Her action had not been prompted entirely by greed end discontent. Her father was a ne’er-do-well, and her mother and three small sisters fiAsually went short of food. At the time work was short, and she thought that part of the promised £I,OOO a year would save her people from the workhouse. At the same time, it cannot be said that her -motive was entirely unselfish. She had all the self-confidence of ignorance, and thoroughly believed that .she could “manage” her future husband. She had plans for running his court and for managing liig women and reforming his morals. if the poor child had only known* Procession of Wives However, she was soon to find that her task was not to be so easy as she had supposed, for when we arrived at the squalid collection of wattle and daub huts which constituted the king’s | “capital” we were met by the five | wives in possession. They were buxom women and. stood in a row, their black eyes gleaming every kind of spite. Near by stood the king and his councillors dressed in their best loin cloths and holding some sort of ceremony in honour of the occasion. As if not to disappoint Marie, Marakamba had crowned his woolly pate with a battered top-hat. But he had omitted the spats. “Massa introduce me to my wife?” said the hoary old villian. “She plenty fine girl, sure thing.” To my astonishment Marie fully expected a proper marriage ceremony, and begged me to approach the king on the matter. His majesty was not enthusiastic, merely making some cryptic remark which sounded very much like: “My word, let me catch you bending!” He was fond of trotting out his few English phrases, and cared little whether they were appropriate. X did not like to give an exact report of the interview, so I simply told Marie that marriage was a matter of barter with African kings. Thera was little more that I could do, but not liking the look of those five black wives I told Marie to send for me immediately if she feared trouble. I also cautioned her to eat and drink nothing unless the giver first ate and drank a portion in her j presence. When I added , that she I should always l ave her room sw'ept ! with the greates care lest fragments

of glass dipped in poison had been ; scattered aecidentlly, the poor girl began to look frightened. But as things turned out it was well I warned her. After the Coffee Two months later came an urgent • call. Marie was sick. I arrived to ; find the girl suffering terrible pains in the abdomen, combined with a j haemorrhage which would not be ! staunched. The king was genuinely j disturbed, and it was plain that he j was in no way to blame. But the ailment was beyond my rude know- ! ledge of medicine, and I insisted on j taking my countrywoman down to the j seaport, where she would receive the | attention of an English doctor. I On the journey I discovered that, I as I had suspected, the native wives were the source of the trouble. Ap- | parently they had made a great show of friendliness toward Marie and persuaded her to take coffee with them. Hardly had she finished the cup than she fell asleep. When she woke, 4S hours later, the pain had begun. That she had not bee.n poisoned 1 was certain, for no poison would start a persistent haemorrhage. Strangely enough the malady was exactly similar to that which had attacked some of my sheep a few months ago. The poor brutes had bled to death without showing any outward wound. Even the doctor was at a loss. He sent Marie back to Europe, to a hospital in Paris, to be X-rayed. Not till this had been done was it discovered that a barbed splinter of wood had been cleverly inserted into the lining of the stomach. The native women must have known that a deep breath would be strong enough to draw a small splinter of this kind down the throat of an unconscious person. It is on account of this sucking force of indrawn breath that a throat surgeon attaches small in--1 struments to his wrist. When she recovered Marie returned !to her home in the North of Eng- ! land. She had passed through a | perilous experience without becoming I a penny the better off, or she never | received any of hef promised pin j money. ! If she sees this account she may ; be pleased to learn that her one-time i husband got into extremely hot water | with the authorities in whose protectorate he lived, and that, with his j own hand, he saw justice done upon i his evil-minded wives. The two ringj leaders .were punished bj r slow roast- | tug at the compound fire.