Don't Call Me Lady;

The Journey of Lady Alice Seeley Harris

Stories get told in their own ways. They find their own depth, their own level. They run their own watercourse. They ripple and flow in the way the teller of the tale means for them to go. Alice Seeley Harris's story is no exception.

Her story was one that caused more than the occasional ripple on the water. It caused a flood of new ideas, of new ways to see.

Like the water of life, it brought hope to thousands.

Alice believed that she had a message to take to the Congolese people; the message of the Christian Gospel. Instead she had to save the Congolese people from a King who professed the Christian message. King Leopold The Second of Belgium donned the soft wool of a lamb to hide the shaggy fur of a wolf.

"By their fruits ye shall know them". Alice would have known this Biblical injunction well, and a good thing she did.

Stories get told differently by all those who were present and sometimes by those who were not.

King Leopold would tell his personal story in one particular way, while Alice would tell it in another.

Alice's descendants could tell her story too in a variety of ways.

History proves us all to have been a little bit right and a little bit wrong.

Who is there to tell the tale so that it comes out right, cleansed like a newly rinsed white shirt, pressed, ironed smooth of all hurts and wrinkles, packaged and wrapped in the way we want to present it?

There were many people in Alice's story, most of whom have had their say throughout the history of the Congo Reform movement.

It is time for Alice's story. She is the one woman who is named in subdued printed text in history books for her valiant efforts, as if Alice was not worthy of bold print, of exclamation marks, of her own chapters. Of her own book.

Her Victorian mindset allowed her to place the man she loved, her husband who later became Sir John Hobbis Harris, on a pedestal where she believed he belonged.

Alice, I'm talking to you now. Together it's time we told your story.

In one of your husband's books, Dawn in Darkest Africa, which I have come to believe that you wrote for him, he has acknowledged you with the words "To my devoted companion who has so patiently borne the hardships of travel and the long strain of our labours for the native races."

But he forgot to name your name.

Speak up Alice. It's your turn now. We're listening.

We're naming your name.

Brussels, Belgium, circa 1903 ~ King Leopold speaks

That little English woman! All of them! Those blasted missionaries interfering with what is not theirs to concern themselves, especially that English woman. Harris. Alice, they call her.

I got there first. The Congo Free State belongs to me. I'm even the one who named it, who changed the name from Kongo. I own it. I got it fair and square from the Chiefs. They all knew what they were doing when they ceded their lands to me. They liked the trinkets I sent them in exchange for their territories, the presents I gave them. I had my men make a fuss over them.

I've never been to the Congo Free State myself. There is no need of that. I've appointed my Overseers, most of them from Belgium, a few from the Congo Free State itself and a few from Zanzibar, from here and from there. The Force Publique we call them. It is true that I had to chose many men who were in trouble of one type or another to do this job for me, men who suffered from addictions of every sort, from debt, family troubles and criminal tribulations, but who else would agree to work in the heat of the jungle? And the other overseer jobs are valued amongst the Congolese themselves, provided they do what my Force requires of them. It's all meant to keep order of course, all meant to help them collect the rubber to ship back to Europe.

What's all this fuss about that those abominable missionaries are making? Even before those missionaries had heard my name I had a sound plan for these heathens.

I was open with the world as my plan unfolded. I hid nothing.

I visited my cousin Queen Victoria in England before I did any of this. I studied the Colonial policies of other European countries ahead of time. Belgium is so small. I could see the need for expansion.

I can explain it this way. Holland is in Indonesia. Napoleon tried but failed to move into Mexico. My cousin Victoria has a vast and growing Empire. Nobody is complaining about her, so why me? Colonialism is the done thing just now. I am not alone.

I planned this move into Africa well. I'm a thorough fellow when it comes to presenting a new idea.

I planned a huge conference to be held Brussels in 1876. I knew it was time to move. I could garner support and take advantage of my thirst for Imperialism. (I never did mention that part to the press, but business is business after all.)

I went all out. Spared no expense. I called in a panel of world geography experts, of churchmen, scientists, politicians, the famous, the moneyed. I had rooms made up in the Palace for the visitors. I even gave them a bit of a show. I sat on my throne encircled by a thousand blazing candles. It thrilled them, showed them what an important role Belgium was ready to play in its efforts to reach out into the wider world.

The British weren't interested in Congo. I learned that during my lunch with the Prince of Wales and the explorer Cameron who had just returned from his trek across Africa. He himself told me that. So if the British didn't want it what is their problem with me having it now? Are they jealous? I gave a rousing opening speech. I said these exact words:

"To open to civilization the only part of our globe which it has not yet penetrated, to pierce the darkness which hangs over entire peoples is, I dare say, a crusade worthy of this century of progress ... Belgium may be a small country but she is happy and satisfied with her fate; I have no other ambition than to serve her well."

It's a most strange feeling to be quoting oneself, but I feel pleased about that speech. It showed a goodly amount of healthy public relations for our dear Belgium and for my aims as the King. And they bought it! I did exaggerate when I claimed Belgium to be happy and satisfied with her fate, but a sound business plan must be carefully crafted and there is nothing to argue about when it comes to a good business plan. We would all agree to that. I expect that even nosey little Mrs. Harris, Alice, would agree.

How they applauded me! Thunderous it was! The very din sounded as if a thousand elephants were stampeding throughout the palace courtyards, their huge (and valuable) ivory tusks raised in appreciation of my plan!

Who can find fault with that, when even Sir Thomas Buxton, President of The British Anti-Slavery Association was present? It was plain to see that he was enjoying himself.

Back to Mrs. Harris and her coterie of bleeding hearts. Who do they think they are, poking their pristine British noses into my affairs? They should tend to their own business.

I've instructed the Force Publique to drive them away. I didn't exactly say "kill her". I only ordered my Overseers to do what needed doing to shut her up. I will confess that I hinted that perhaps the Congo steamers might forget to deliver them...