The city of Brussels itself reminds Marlow of a "whited sepulchre-(p 14) which in the Bible, in Matthew's Gospel, is described as a pure and white fazade hiding death and decay. Then there's the story of Marlow's predecessor Fresleven, a gentle, quiet man who goes on a wild rampage, and the office of the Company with the two women knitting black wool like the fates. The doctor who examines Marlow foreshadows his future experiences: .
"'I always ask leave, in the interest of science, to measure the crania of those going out there, he said. And when they come back, too?' I asked. Oh, I never see them, he remarked; and, moreover, the changes take place inside, you know. He smiled, as if at some quiet joke.""(pp 16-17).
Marlow first witnesses the true face of colonialism at the very beginning of his voyage, even before reaching the Congo: .
"Once, I remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored of the coast. There wasn't even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. It appears the French had one of their wars going on thereabouts. Her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long six-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung her up lazily and let her down, swaying her thin masts. In the empty immensity of earth, sky and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent. Pop, would go one of the six-inch guns; a small flame would dart and vanish, a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile would give a feeble screech - and nothing happened. Nothing could happen. There was a touch of insanity in the proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the sight; and it was not dissipated by somebody on board assuring me earnestly there was a camp of natives - he called them enemies! - hidden out of sight somewhere."" (p 20).
We can see that Marlow is beginning to realize that what seems normal in Europe doesn't make sense in Africa and vice versa.