FETICHISM
IN WEST AFRICA
Forty Years' Observation of Native Customs
and Superstitions
BY THE
REV. ROBERT HAMILL NASSAU, M.D.- S.T.D.
FOR FORTY YEARS A MISSIONARY IN THE GABUN DISTRICT
OF KONGO-FRANCAISE
WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS
published in 1904 by Charles Scribners Son
PREFACE
ON the 2d of July, 1861, I sailed from New York City on a little brig, the
"Ocean Eagle," with destination to the island of Corisco, near the equator,
on the West Coast of Africa. My first introduction to the natives of Africa
was a month later, when the vessel stopped at Monrovia, the capital of the
Liberian Republic, to land a portion of its trade goods, and at other ports
of Liberia, Sinoe, and Cape Palmas; thence to Corisco on September 12.
Corisco is a microcosm, only five miles long by three miles wide; its
surface diversified with every variety of landscape, proportioned to its
size, of hill, prairie, stream, and lake. It is located in the eye of the
elephant-head shaped Bay of Corisco, and from twelve to twenty miles distant
from the mainland. Into the bay flow two large rivers, - the Muni (the Rio
D'Angra of commerce) and the Munda (this latter representing the elephant's
proboscis).
The island, with adjacent mainland, was inhabited by the Benga tribe. It was
the headquarters of the American Presbyterian Mission. On the voyage I had
studied the Benga dialect with my fellow-passenger, the senior member of the
Mission, Rev. James L. Mackey; and was able, on my landing, to converse so
well with the natives that they at once enthusiastically accepted me as an
interested friend. This has ever since been my status among all other
tribes.
I lived four years on the island, as preacher, teacher, and itinerant to the
adjacent mainland, south to the Gabun River and its Mpongwe tribe, east up
the Muni and Munda rivers, and north to the Benito River.
In my study of the natives' language my attention was drawn closely to their
customs; and in my inquiry into their religion I at once saw how it was
bound up in these customs. I met with other white men - traders, government
officials, and even some missionaries - whose interest in Africa, however
deep, was circumscribed by their special work for, respectively, wealth,
power, and Gospel proclamation. They could see in those customs only
"folly," and in the religion only "superstition."
I read many books on other parts of Africa, in which the same customs and
religion prevailed. I did not think it reasonable to dismiss curtly as
absurd the cherished sentiments of so large a portion of the human race. I
asked myself: Is there no logical ground for the existence of these
sentiments, no philosophy behind all these beliefs? I began to search; and
thenceforward for thirty years, wherever I travelled, wherever I was guest
to native chief, wherever I lived, I was always leading the conversation, in
hut or camp, back to a study of the native thought.
I soon found that I gained nothing if I put my questions suddenly or without
mask. The natives generally were aware that white men despised them and
their beliefs, and they were slow to admit me to their thought if I made a
direct advance. But, by chatting as a friend, telling them the strange and
great things of my own country, and first eliciting their trust in me and
interest in my stories, they forgot their reticence, and responded by
telling me of their country. I listened, not critically, but apparently as a
believer; and then they vied with each other in telling me all they knew and
thought.
That has been the history of a thousand social chats, - in canoes by day, in
camp and but by night, and at all hours in my own house, whose public room
was open at any hour of day or evening for any visitor, petitioner, or
lounger, my attention to whose wants or wishes was rewarded by some
confidence about their habits or doings.
In 1865 I was transferred to Benito, where I remained until the close of
1871. Those years were full of travels afoot or by boat, south the hundred
miles to Gabun, north toward the Batanga region, and east up the Benito for
a hundred miles as a pioneer, to the Balengi and Boheba tribes, - a distance
at that time unprecedented, considering the almost fierce opposition of the
coast people to any white man's going to the local sources of their trade.
After more than ten uninterrupted years in Africa, I took a furlough of more
than two years in the United States, and returned to my work in 1874.
I responded to a strong demand on the part of the supporters of Foreign
Missions in Africa, that mission operations should no longer be confined to
the coast. Unsuccessful efforts had been made to enter by the Gabun, by the
Muni, and by the Benito.
On the 10th of September, 1874, I entered the Ogowe River, at Nazareth Bay,
one of its several embouchures into the Atlantic, near Cape Lopez, a degree
south of the equator. But little was known of the Ogowe. Du Chaillu, in his
"Equatorial Africa" (1861), barely mentions it, though he was hunting
gorillas and journeying in "Ashango Land," on the sources of the Ngunye, a
large southern affluent of the Ogowe.
A French gunboat a few years before had ascended it for one hundred and
thirty miles to Lembarene, the head of the Ogowe Delta, and had attached it
to France. Two English traders and one German bad built trading-bouses at
that onehundred-and-thirty-mile limit, and traversed the river with small
steam launches in their rubber trade. Besides these three, I was the only
other white resident. They were living in the Galwa tribe, cognate in
language with the Mpongwe. I settled at a one-hundred-and-flfty-mile limit,
in the Akele tribe (cognate with the Benga), building my house at a place
called Belambila.
Two years later I abandoned that spot, came down to Lembarene, and built on
Kāngwe Hill. There I learned the Mpongwe dialect. I remained there until
1880, successful with school and church, and travelling by boat and canoe
thousands of miles in the many branches of the Ogowe, through its Delta, and
in the lake country of Lakes Onange and Azyingo. In 1880 I took a second
furlough to the United States, remaining eighteen months, and returning at
the close of 1881.
My prosperous and comfortable station at Kangwe was occupied by a new man,
and I resumed my old role of pioneer. I travelled up the Ogowe, one hundred
and fifty miles beyond Lembarene, ascending and descending the wild waters
of its cataracts, and settled at Talaguga, a noted rock near which was
subsequently established the French military post, Njoli, at the two-
hundred-mile limit of the course of the river. There I was alone with Mrs.
Nassau, my nearest white neighbors the two French officers five miles up
river at .the post, and my successors at Kāngwe, seventy miles down river.
The inhabitants were wild cannibal Fang, just recently emerged from the
interior forest. It was a splendid fleld for original investigation, and I
applied myself to the Fang dialect.
I remained at Talaguga, until 1891, when I took a third furlough to the
United States, and stayed through 1892, during which time the Mission Board
transferred my entire Ogowe work, with its two stations and four churches
and successful schools, to the French Paris Evangelical Society.
In March, 1893, at the request of the Rev. Frank F. Ellinwood, D.D., LL.D.,
I wrote and read, before the American Society of Comparative Religions, a
forty-minute essay on Bantu Theology.
At the wish of that Society I loaned the manuscript to them, for their use
in the Parliament of Religions at the Chicago Exposition; but I carried the
original draft of the essay with me on my return to Africa in August, 1893,
where I was located at Libreville, Gabun, the Mission's oldest and most
civilized station. There I found special advantage for my investigations.
Though those educated Mpongwes could tell me little that was new as to
purely unadulterated native thought, they, better than an ignorant tribe,
could and did give me valuable intelligent replies to my inquiries as to the
logical connection between native belief and act, and the essential meaning
of things which I had seen and heard elsewhere. My ignorant friends at other
places had given me a mass of isolated statements. My Mpongwe friends had
studied a little grammar, and were somewhat trained to analyze. They helped
me in the collocation of the statements and in the deduction of the
philosophy behind them. It was there that I began to put my conclusions in
writing.
In 1895 Miss Mary H. Kingsley journeyed in West Africa, sent on a special
mission to investigate the subject of freshwater fishes. She also gratified
her own personal interest in native African religious beliefs by close
inquiries all along the coast.
During her stay at Libreville in the Kongo-Frangais, May-September, 1895, my
interest, common with hers, in the study of native African thought led me
into frequent and intimate conversations with her on that subject. She
eagerly accepted what information, from my longer residence in Africa, I was
able to impart. I loaned her the essay, with permission to make any use of
it she desired in her proposed book, "Travels in West Africa." When that
graphic story of her African wanderings appeared in 1897, she made courteous
acknowledgment of the use she had made of it in her chapters on Fetich.
On page 395 of her "Travels in West Africa," referring to my missionary
works, and to some contributions I had made to science, she wrote: "Still I
deeply regret he has not done more for science and geography. . . . I beg to
state I am not grumbling at him . . . but entirely from the justifiable
irritation a student of fetich feels at knowing that there is but one copy
of this collection of materials, and that this copy is in the form of a
human being, and will disappear with him before it is half learned by us,
who cannot do the things he has done."
This suggestion of Miss Kingsley's gave me no new thought; it only sharpened
a desire I had hopelessly cherished for some years. In my many missionary
occupations - translation of the Scriptures, and other duties - I had never
found the strength, when the special missionary daily work was done, to sit
down and put into writing the mass of material I had collected as to the
meaning and uses of fetiches. Nor did I think it right for me to take time
that was paid for by the church in which to compile a book that would be my
own personal pleasure and property.
Impressed with this idea, on my fourth furlough to America in 1899, I
confided my wish to a few personal friends, telling them of my plan, not
indeed ever to give up my life-work in and for Africa, but to resign from
connection with the Board; and, returning to Africa under independent employ
and freed from mission control, but still working under my Presbytery, have
time to gratify my pen.
One of these friends was William Libbey, D. Sc., Professor of Physical
Geography and Director of the E. M. Museum of Geology and Archaeology in
Princeton University. Without my knowledge he subsequently mentioned the
subject to his university friend, Rev. A. Woodruff Halsey, D.D., one of the
Secretaries of the Board of Foreign Missions. Dr. Halsey thought my wish
could be gratified without my resigning from the Board's service.
In November, 1899, the following action of the Board was forwarded to me:
"November 20th, 1899. In view of the wide and varied information possessed
by the Rev. Robert H. Nassau, D.D., of the West Africa Mission, regarding
the customs and traditions of the tribes on the West Coast, and the
importance of putting that knowledge into some permanent form, the Board
requested Dr. Nassau to prepare a volume or volumes on the subject; and it
directed the West Africa Mission to assign him, on his return from his
furlough, to such forms of missionary work as will give him the necessary
leisure and opportunity."
On my return to Africa in 1900, I was located at Batanga, one hundred and
seventy miles north of Gabun, and was assigned to the pastorate of the
Batanga Church, the largest of the twelve churches of the Corisco
Presbytery, with itineration to and charge of the sessions of the Kribi and
Ubenji churches.
During intervals of time in the discharge of these pastoral duties my
recreation was the writing and sifting of the multitude of notes I had
collected on native superstition during the previous quarter of a century.
The people of Batanga, though largely emancipated from the fetich practices
of superstition, still believed in its witchcraft aspect. I began there to
arrange the manuscript of this work. There, more than elsewhere, the natives
seemed willing to tell me tales of their folk-lore, involving fetich
beliefs. From them, and also from Mpongwe informants, were gathered largely
the contents of Chapters XVI and XVII.
And now, on this my fifth furlough, the essay on Bantu Theology has grown to
the proportions of this present volume.
The conclusions contained in all these chapters are based on my own
observations and investigations.
Obligation is acknowledged to a number of writers on Africa and others,
quotations from whose books are credited in the body of this work. I quote
them, not as informants of something I did not already know, but as
witnesses to the fact of the universality of the same superstitious ideas
all over Africa.
By the courtesy of the American Geographical Society, Chapters IV, V, X, and
XI have appeared in its Bulletin during the years 1901-1903.
1 am especially obligated to Professor Libbey for his sympathetic
encouragement during the writing of my manuscript, and for his judicious sug
estions as to the final form I have given it.
ROBERT HAMILL NASSAU
PHILADELPHIA, March 24,1904
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CONSTITUTION OF NATIVE AFRICAN SOCIETY - SOCIOLOGY
I. The Country
II. The Family
Family Responsibility. - Family Headship. - Marital Relations. -
Arrangements for Marriage. - Courtship and Wedding. - Dissolution of
Marriage. - Illegitimate Marital Relations. - Domestic Life.
III. Succession to Property and Authority
IV. Political Organization
V. Servants
VI. Kingship
VII. Fetich Doctors
VIII. Hospitality
IX. Judicial System
Courts- Punishment- Blood-Atonement and Fines. - Punishable Acts.
X. Territorial Relations
Tenure. - Rights in Movables.
XI. Exchange Relations
XII. Religion
CHAPTER II
THE IDEA OF GOD - RELIGION
Theology, Religion, Creed, Worship. - Source of the Knowledge of God;
outside of us; comes from God; Evolution of Physical Species. - Materialism;
Knowledge of God not evolved. - Superstition in all Religions. - Dominant in
African Religion. -No People without a Knowledge of at least the Name of
God. -Testimony of Travellers and Others.
CHAPTER III
POLYTHEISM - IDOLATRY
Religion and Civilization. - Worship of Natural Objects. - Polytheism. -
Idolatry. - Worship of Ancestors. - Fetichism.
CHAPTER IV
SPIRITUAL BEINGS IN AFRICAN RELIGION
I. Origin
Coterminous with the Creator. -Created. -Spirits of Deceased Human Beings;
in Unity, Duality, Trinity, or Quadruplicity.
II. Number
III. Locality
IV. Characteristics
CHAPTER V
SPIRITUAL BEINGS IN AFRICA - THEIR CLASSES AND FUNCTIONS
1. Classes and Functions
Inina. - Ibambo. - Oinbwiri. - Nkinda. - Mondi.
II. Special Manifestations
Human Soul in a Lower Animal; the Leopard Fiend. - Uvengwa, Ghost. - Family
Guardian-Spirit.
CHAPTER VI
FETICHISM - ITS PHILOSOPHY - A PHYSICAL SALVATION - CHARMS AND AMULETS
Monotheism. - Polytheism. - Animism. - Fetichism.
The Salvation Sought: its Kind, Physical; its Source, Spirits; its Reason,
Fear.
The Means used: Prayer, Sacrifices, Charms; Vocal, Ritual, Material,
Fetiches.
Articles used in the Fetich. - Mode of Preparation: A Fitness in the Quality
of the Object for the End desired; Efficiency depends on the Localized
Spirit; Misuse of the Word "Medicine "; Native "Doctors"; Connection of
Fetich with Witchcraft.
CHAPTER VII
THE FETICH -A WORSHIP
I. Sacrifice and Offerings
Small Votive Gifts. -Consecrated Plants; Idols and Gifts of Food.-Blood
Sacrifices. -Human Sacrifices.
II. Prayer
III. The Use of Charms or"Fetiches"
CHAPTER VIII
THE FETICH - WITCHCRAFT - A WHITE ART - SORCERY
A passively Defensive Art. -Professedly of the Nature of a Medicine. -
Distinction between a Fetich Doctor and a Christian Physician. - Manner of
Performance of the White Art. - The Medicinal Herbs used sometimes Valuable.
- Strength of Native Faith in the System.
CHAPTER IX
THE FETICH- WITCHCRAFT -A BLACK ART-DEMONOLOGY
Distinction as to the Object aimed at in the White Art and in the Black Art.
- Black Art actively Offensive. - The Black Art distinctively "Witchcraft."
-Witchcraft Executions; claimed to be Judicial Acts. - Hoodoo Worship. -
Christian Faith and Fetich Faith Compared. -Deception by Fetich Magicians. -
Clairvoyance. -Demoniacal Possession.
CHAPTER X
FETICHISM -A GOVERNMENT
Egbo, Ukuka, Yasi, and other Societies. - Their Power either to protect or
oppress. - Contest with Ukuku at Benita, and with Yasi on the Ogowe.
CHAPTER XI
THE FETICH-ITS RELATION TO THE FAMILY
The Family the Unit in the African Community. -Respect for the Aged.-Worship
of Ancestors. -Family Fetiches; Yākā, Ekongi, Mbati.
CHAPTER XII
THE FETICH - ITS RELATIONS TO DAILY WORK AND OCCUPATIONS AND TO THE NEEDS OF
LIFE
Hunting. - Journeying. - Warring. - Trading; Okundu and Mbumbu. - Sickness.
- Loving. - Fishing. - Planting.
CHAPTER XIII
THE FETICH -SUPERSTITION IN CUSTOMS
Rules of Pregnancy. -Omens on Journeys. -Leopard Fiends. -Luck. -Twins. -
Customs of Speech. -Oaths. -Totem Worship. - Taboo; Orunda. - Baptism. -
Spitting. - Notice of Children.
CHAPTER XIV
FETTCH - ITS RELATION TO THE FUTURE LIFE - CEREMONIES AT DEATHS AND FUNERALS
Sickness, Death, Burial, Modes of Burial. - Mourning, Treatment of Widows-
Witchcraft Investigations. - Places of Burial.- Cannibalism. - Family
Quarrel as to Precedence in the Burying. - Custom of"Lifting Up " of
Mourners. - Ukuku Dance for Amusement. - Destination of the Dead. -
Transmigration.
CHAPTER XV
FETICHISM -SOME OF ITS PRACTICAL EFFECTS
Depopulation. - Cannibalism. - Secret Societies (Ukuku, Yasi, Mwetyi, Bweti,
Indā, Njembe). -Poisoning for Revenge.-Distrust. - Jugglery. -Treatment of
Lunatics. -The American Negro Hoodoo. - Folk-Lore.
CHAPTER XVI
TALES OF FETICH BASED ON FACT
1. A Witch Sweetheart
II. A Jealous Wife
III. Witchcraft Mothers
IV. The Wizard House-Breaker
V. The Wizard Murderer
VI. The Wizard and his Invisible Dog
VII. Spirit-Dancing
VIII. Asiki, or the Little Beings
IX. Okove
X. The Family Idols (Oka-si, Barbarity, The Right of Sanctuary)
XI. Unago and Ekela (A Proverb)
XII. Malanda -An Initiation into a Family Guardian-Spirit Company
XIII. Three-Things Came Back too Late
CHAPTER XVII
FETICH IN FOLK-LORE
I. Queen Ngwe-nkonde and her Manja
II. The Beautiful Daughter
III. The Husband that Came from an Animal
IV. The Fairy Wife
V. The Thieves and their Enchanted House
VI. Banga-of-the-five-faces
VII. The Two Brothers
VIII. Jeki and his Ozāzi
GLOSSARY
FETICHISM IN WEST AFRICA
CHAPTER I
CONSTITUTION OF NATIVE AFRICAN SOCIETY -
SOCIOLOGY
THAT stream of the Negro race which is known ethnologically as "Bantu,"
occupies all of the southern portion of the African continent below the
fourth degree of north latitude. It is divided into a multitude of tribes,
each with its own peculiar dialect. All these dialects are cognate in their
grammar. Some of them vary only slightly in their vocabulary. In others the
vocabulary is so distinctly different that it is not understood by tribes
only one hundred miles apart, while that of others a thousand miles away may
be intelligible.
In their migrations the tribes have been like a river, with its windings,
currents swift or slow; there have been even, in places, back currents; and
elsewhere quiet, almost stagnant pools. But they all -from the Divala at
Kamerun on the West Coast across to the Kiswahile at Zanzibar on the East,
and from Buganda by the Victoria Nyanza at the north down to Zulu in the
south at the Cape - have a uniformity in language, tribal organization,
family customs, judicial rules and regulations, marriage ceremonies, funeral
rites, and religious beliefs and practice. Dissimilarities have crept in
with mixture among themselves by intermarriage, the example of foreigners,
with some forms of foreign civilization and education, degradation by
foreign vice, elevation by Christianity, and compulsion by foreign
governments.
As a description of Bantu sociology, I give the following outline which was
offered. some years ago, in reply to inquiries sent to members of the Gabun
and Corisco Mission living at Batanga, by the German Government, in its
laudable effort to adapt, as far as consistent with justice and humanity,
its Kamerun territorial government to the then existing tribal regulations
and customs of the tribes living in the Batanga region. This information was
obtained by various persons from several sources, but especially from
prominent native chiefs, all of them men of intelligence.
In their general features these statements were largely true also for all
the other tribes in the Equatorial Coast region, and for most of the
interior Bantu tribes now pressing down to the Coast. They were more
distinctly descriptive of Batanga and the entire interior at the time of
their formulation. But in the ten years that have since passed, a stranger
would find that some of them are no longer exact. Foreign authority has
removed or changed or sapped the foundations of many native customs and
regulations, while it has not fully brought in the civilization of
Christianity. The result in some places, in this period of transition, has
been almost anarchy, - making a despotism, as under Belgian misrule in the
so-called Kongo"Free " State; or commercial ruin, as under French monopoly
in their Kongo-Franēais; and general confusion, under German hands, due to
the arbitrary acts of local officials and their brutal black soldiery.
I. THE COUNTRY.
The coast between 5° and 4° N. Lat. is called "Kamerun." This is not a
native word: it was formerly spelled by ships' captains in their trade
"Cameroons." Its origin is uncertain. It is thought that it came from the
name of the Portuguese explorer Diego Cam. The tribes in that region are the
Divala, Isubu, Balimba, and other lesser ones.
The coast from 4° to 3° N. Lat. has also a foreign name, "Batanga." I do not
know its origin.
The coast from 3° to 2° N. Lat. is called, by both natives and
foreigners,"Benita"; at 1° N., by foreigners,"Corisco," and-by natives,
"Benga." The name "Corisco " was given by Spaniards to an island in the Bay
of Benga because of the brilliant coruscations of lightning so persistent in
that locality. The Benga dialect is taken as the type of all the many
dialects used from Corisco north to Benita, Bata, Batanga, and Kamerun.
From 1° N. to 30° S. is known as the "Gabun country," with the Mpongwe
dialect, typical of its many congeners, the Orungu, Nkāmi (miscalled
"Camma"), Galwa, and others.
From 3° S. to the Kongo River, at 6° S., the Loango tribe and dialect called
"Fyāt " are typical; and the Kongo River represents still another current of
tribe and dialect.
In the interior, subtending the entire coast-line as above mentioned, are
the several clans of the great Fang tribe, making a fifth distinctly
different type, known by the names "Osheba," "Bulu," "Mabeya," and others.
The name "Fang" is spelled variously: by the traveller Du Chaillu, "Fań" by
the French traveller, Count de Brazza, "Pahouin" by their Benga neighbors,
"Pangwe"; and by the Mpongwe, "Mpańwe." These tribes all have traditions of
their having come from the far Northeast.
Before foreign slave-trade was introduced, and subsequently the ivory,
rubber, palm-oil, and mahogany trades, the occupations of the natives were
hunting, fishing, and agriculture. They subsisted on wild meats, fish,
forest fruits and nuts, and the cultivated plantains, cassava, maize,
ground-nuts, yams, eddoes, sweet potatoes, and a few other vegetables.
II. THE FAMILY.
The family is the unit in native sociology. There is the narrow circle of
relationship expressed by the word "ijawe," plural "majawe" (a derivative of
the verb "jaka" = to beget), which includes those of the immediate family,
both on the father's as well as on the mother's side (i.e., blood-
relatives).. The wider circle expressed by the word "ikaka" (pl."makaka")
includes those who are blood-relatives, together with those united to them
by marriage.
In giving illustrative native words I shall use the Benga dialect as
typical. All the tribes have words indicating the relationships of father,
mother, brother, sister. A nephew, while calling his own father "paia,"
calls an uncle who is older than himself "paia-utodu"; one younger than
himself he calls "paia-ndembe." His own mother be calls "ina," and his aunts
"ina-utodu" and "ina-ndembe," respectively, for one who is older or younger
than himself.
A cousin is called "mwana-paia-utodu," or "-ndembe," as the case may be,
according to age. These same designations are used for both the father's and
the mother's side. A cousin's consanguinity is considered almost the same as
that of brother or sister. They cannot marry. Indeed, all lines of
consanguinity are carried farther, in prohibition of marriage, than in
civilized countries.
1. Family Responsibility. Each family is held by the community responsible
for the misdeeds of its members. However unworthy a man may be, his "people
" are to stand by him, defend him, and even claim as right his acts, however
unjust. He may demand their help, however guilty he may be. Even if his
offence be so great that his own people have to acknowledge his guilt, they
cannot abjure their responsibility. Even if he be worthy of death, and a
ransom is called for, they must pay it: not only his rich relatives, but all
who are at all able must help.
There is a narrower family relationship, that of the household, or "diyā"
(the hearth, or fireplace; derivative of the verb "diyaka" to live). There
are a great many of these. Their habitations are built in one street, long
or short, according to the size of the man's family.
In polygainy each wife has a separate house, or at least a separate room.
Her children's home is in that house. Each woman rules her own house and
children.
One of these women is called the "head-wife" ("konde"=queen). Usually she is
the first wife. But the man is at liberty to displace her and put a younger
one in her place.
The position of head-wife carries with it no special privileges except that
she superintends; but she is not herself excused from work. In the community
she is given more respect if the husband happens to be among the "headmen"
or chiefs.
Each wife is supplied by the husband, but does not personally own her own
house, kitchen utensils, and garden tools. She makes her own garden or
"plantation" ("mwanga").
There is no community in ownership of a plantation. Each one chooses a spot
for himself. Nor is there land tenure. Any man can go to any place not
already occupied, and choose a site on which to build, or to make a garden;
and he keeps it as long as be or some member of his family occupies it.
2. Family Headship. It descends to a son; if there be none, to a brother;
or, if he be dead, to that brother's son; in default of these, to a sister's
son. This headship carries with it, for a man, such authority that, should
he kill his wife, be may not be killed; though her relatives, if they be
influential, may demand some restitution.
If an ordinary man kills another man, he may himself be killed. For a debt
he may give away a daughter or wife, but he may not give away a son or a
brother. A father rules all his children, male and female, until his death.
If adult members of a family are dissatisfied with family arrangements, they
can remove and build elsewhere; but they cannot thereby entirely separate
themselves from rule by, and responsibility to and for the family.
A troublesome man cannot be expelled from the family village. A woman can
be, but only by her husband, for such offences as stealing, adultery,
quarrelling; in which case the dowry money paid by him to her relatives must
be returned to him, or another woman given in her place.
3. Marital Relations. Marriages are made not only between members of the
same tribe but between different tribes. Formerly it was not considered
proper that a man of a coast tribe should marry a woman from an interior
tribe. The coast tribes regarded themselves as more enlightened than those
of the interior, and were disposed to look down upon them. But now men marry
women not only of their own tribe but of all inferior tribes.
Polygamy is common, almost universal. A man's addition to the number of his
wives is limited only by his ability to pay their dowry price.
He may cohabit with a woman without- paying dowry for her; but their
relation is not regarded as a marriage ("diba"), and this woman is
disrespected as a harlot ("evove").
There are few men with only one wife. In some cases their monogamy is their
voluntary choice; in most cases (where there is not Christian principle) it
is due to poverty. A polygamist arranges his marital duties to his several
wives according to his choice; but the division having been made, each wife
jealously guards her own claim on his attentions. A disregard of them leads
to many a family quarrel.[1]
If a man die, his brothers may marry any or all of the widows; or, if therp
be no brothers, a son inherits, and may marry any or all of the widows
except his own mother.
It is preferred that widows shall be retained in the family circle because
of the dowry money that was paid for them, which is considered as a
permanent investment.
Ante-ceremonial sexual trials (the ancient German "bundling") are not
recognized as according to rule; but the custom is very common. If not
followed by regular marriage ceremony, it is judged as adultery.
While a man may go to any tribe to seek a wife, he does not settle in the
woman's tribe; she comes to him, and enters into his family.
4. Arrangements for Marriage. On entering into marriage a man depends on
only the male members of his family to assist him. If the woman is of adult
age, he is first to try obtain her consent. But that is not final; it may be
[1. Gen. xxx. 15-16.]
either overridden or compelled by her father. The fathers of the two parties
are the ultimate judges; the marriage cannot take place without their
consent, after the preliminary wooing. The final compact is by dowry money,
the most of which must be paid in ad-vance. It is the custom which has come
down from old time. It is now slightly changing under education,
enlightemment, and foreign law., The amount of the dowry is not prescribed
by any law. Custom alters the amount, according to the social status of the
two families and the pecuniary ability of the bridegroom.
The highest price is paid for a virgin; the next, for a woman who has been
put away by some other man; the lowest price for widows. It is paid in
instalments, but is supposed to be completed in one or two years after the
marriage.
But the purchase of the woman by dowry does not extinguish all claim on her
by her family. If she is maltreated, she may be taken back by them, in which
case the man's dowry money is to be returned to him. Not only the woman's
father, but her other relatives, have a claim to a share in the dowry paid
for her. Her brothers, sisters, and cousins may ask gifts from the would-be
husband.
If a husband die, the widow becomes the property of his family; she does not
inherit, by right, any of his goods because she herself, as a widow, is
property. Sometimes she is given something, but only as a favor.
If she runs away or escapes, her father or her family must return either her
or the dowry paid for her.
On the death of a woman after heir marriage, a part of the money received
for her is returned to, the husband as compensation for his loss on his
investment. If she has borne no children, nothing is given or restored to
the husband.
If a woman deserts her husband, her family is required to pay back the
dowry. If the man himself sends her away, the dowry may be repaid on his
demand and after a public discussion.
There is no escape from marriage for a woman during her life except by
repayment of the money received for her.
Two men may exchange wives thus: each puts away his wife, sending her back
to her people and receiving in return the money paid for her. With this
money in hand each buys again the wife the other has put away; and all
parties are satisfied.
A father can force his daughter to marry against her will; but such
marriages are troublesome, and generally end in the man putting the woman
away.
A daughter may be betrothed by her parents at any time, even at birth. The
marriage formerly did not take place until she was a woman grown of twenty
years; now they are married at fifteen or sixteen, or earlier.
Marriage within any degree of consanguinity is forbidden. Marriage of
cousins is impossible. Disparity of age is no hindrance to marriage: an old
man may take a young virgin, and a young man may take an old woman.
There are no bars of caste nor rank, except the social eminence derived from
wealth or free birth.
Only women are barred from marrying an inferior. That inferiority is not a
personal one. No personal worth can make a man of an inferior tribe equal to
the meanest member of a superior tribe.
All coast tribes reckon themselves superior to any interior tribe; and, of
the coast tribes, a superiority is claimed for those who have the largest
foreign commerce and the greatest number of white residents.
A man may marry any woman of any inferior tribe, the idea being that be thus
elevates her; but it is almost unheard of that a woman shall marry beneath
her.
As a result of this iron rule, women of the Mpongwe and a few other small
"superior" coast tribes being barred from many men, of their o wn tribe by
lines of consanguinity, and unable to marry beneath themselves, expect to
and do make their marriage alliances with the white traders and foreign
government officials. Their civilization has made them attractive, and they
are sought for by white men from far distant points.
Younger sons and daughters must not be married before the older ones.[1]
5. Courtship and Wedding. The routine varies greatly according to tribe; and
in any tribe, according to the man's self-respect and regard for
conventionalities. A proper outline is: First, the man goes to the father
empty-handed to ask his consent. The second visit he goes with gifts, and
the father calls in the other members of the family to witness the gifts. On
the third visit he goes with liquor (formerly the native palm wine, now the
foreign trade gin or rum), and pays an instalment on the dowry; on the
fourth visit with his parents, and gives presents to the woman herself. On a
fifth occasion the mother of the woman makes a feast for the mother and
friends of the groom. At this feast the host and hostess do not eat, but
they join in the drinking. Finally, the man goes with gifts and takes the
woman. Her father makes return gifts as a farewell to his daughter.
On her arrival at the man's village they are met with rejoicing, and a dance
called "nkanjo"; but there is no further ceremony, and she is his wife.
For three months she should not be required to do any hard work, the man
providing her with food and dress. Then she will begin the usual woman's
work, in the making of a garden and carrying of burdens.
Weddings may be made in any season of the year. Formerly the dry season, or
the latter part of the rainy, was preferred because of the plentifulness of
fish at these periods, and the weather being better for outdoor sports and
plays.
The man is expected to visit his wife's family often, and to eat with them.
Her mother feasts him, and he calls her parents to eat at his house.
6. Dissolution of Marriage. By death of the husband. Formerly, in many
tribes one or more of the widows were put to death, either that the dead
might not be without compamonship in the spirit world, or as a punishment
for not having cared better for him in the preservation of his life.
[1. Gen. xxix. 26.]
Formerly the women mourned for six months; now the mourning (i.e., the
public wailing) is reduced to one month. But signs of mourning are retained
for many months in dark, old, or scanty dress, and an absence of ornament.
The mourning of both men and women begins before the sick have actually
died. The men cease after the burial, but the women continue.
All the dead man's property goes to his male relatives. On the death of a
wife the husband is expected to make a gift to pacify her relatives.
Formerly the corpse was not allowed to be buried until this gift was made.
The demand was made by the father, saying, "Our child died in your hands;
give us!" Now they make a more quiet request, and wait a week before doing
so. Something must be given, even if the husband bad already paid her dowry
in full.
Marriage can be dissolved by divorce at almost any time, and for almost any
reason, by the man, - by a woman rarely. The usual reasons for divorce are
unfaithfulness, quarrelling, disobedience, and sometimes chronic sickness.
There are many other more private reasons. In being thus put away the woman
has no property rights; she is given nothing more than what the man may
allow as a favor. If the woman has children, she has no claim on them; they
belong to the father. But if she has daughters who are married, she can ask
for part of the money which the husband received for them. The man and the
divorced woman are then each free to marry any other parties.
7. Illegitimate Marital Relations. These are very common, but they are not
sanctioned as proper. The husband demands a fine for his wife's infidelity
from the co-respondent. Cohabitation with the expected husband previous to
the marriage ceremonies is common; but it is not sanctioned, and therefore
is secret.
The husband of a woman who is mother of a child begotten by another man
takes it as his own. If it be a girl, he (and not the real father) is the
person who gives her in marriage and retains the dowry.
8. Domestic Life. No special feast is made for the birth of either a son or
a daughter, but there is rejoicing. During the woman's pregnancy both she
and her husband have to observe a variety of prohibitions as to what they
may eat or what they may do. They cohabit up to the time of the child's
birth; but after that not for a long period, formerly three years. Now it is
reduced to one and a half years, or less. This custom is one of the reasons
assigned by men for the alleged necessity of a plurality of wives.
During the confinement and for a short time after the birth, the wife
remains in the husband's house, and is then taken by her parents to their
house.
Deformed and defective children are kept with kindness as others; but
monstrosities are destroyed. Formerly in all tribes twins were regarded as
monstrosities and were therefore killed, - still the custom in some tribes.
In the more civilized tribes they are now valued, but special fetich
ceremonies for them are considered necessary.
In the former destruction of twins there were tribes that killed only one of
them. If they were male and female, the father would wish to save the boy
and the mother the girl; but the father ruled. A motherless new-born infant
is not deserted; it is suckled by some other woman.
A portion of the wearing apparel and other goods are placed in the coffin
with the corpse. The greater part of a man's goods are taken by his male
relatives. Formerly nothing was given to his widow; now she receives a small
part. And the paternal relatives of the dead man give something to his
maternal relatives.
The corpse is buried in various ways, - on an elevated scaffold, on the
surface of the ground, or in a shallow grave, rarely cremated. Formerly the
burial could be delayed by a claim for settlement of a debt, but this does
not now occur.
No coast tribe eats human flesh. The Fang and other interior tribes eat any
corpse, regardless of the cause of death. Families hesitate to eat their own
dead, but they sell or exchange them for the dead of other families.
The name given a child is according to family wish. There is no law. Parents
like to have their own names transmitted; but all sorts of reasons prevail
for giving common names, or for making a new one, or for selecting the name
of a great person or of some natural object. A child born at midday may be
called "Joba" (sun), or, at the full moon, "Ngānź" (moon). A mother who had
borne nine children, all of whom had died, on bearing a tenth, and hopeless
of its surviving, named it "Botombaka" (passing away).
Circumcision is practised universally by all these tribes. An uncircumcised
native is not considered to be a man in the full sense of the word, - fit
for fighting, working, marrying, and inheriting. He is regarded as nothing
by both men and women, is slandered, abused, insulted, ostracized, and not
allowed to marry.
The operation is not performed in infancy, but is delayed till the tenth
year, or even later. The native doctor holds cayenne pepper in his mouth,
and, on completing the operation, spits the pepper upon the wound. Then
seizing a sword, he brandishes it with a sbout as a signal to the spectators
that the act is completed. Then the crowd of men and women join in singing
and dancing, and compliment the lad on being now "a real man."
As natives have no records of births, they cannot exactly tell the ages of
their children, or the time when a youth is fit to marry or assume other
manly rights; but by the eighteenth or nineteenth year he is regarded with
the respect due a man. He can marry even as early as fifteen or sixteen.
There are no tests to which be is subjected as proof of his manhood.
A woman may speak in a court of trial, for defence of herself or friends.
She may also be summoned as a witness, but she has no political rights.
Aged persons are not put to death, to escape the care of them; they are
reasonably well provided for.
III. SUCCESSION TO PROPERTY AND AUTHORITY.
Only men inherit. The children of sisters do not inherit unless all the
children of the brothers are dead.
Slaves do not inherit.
"Chieftains" (those chosen to rule) and "kings" (those chosen to the office)
inherit more than their brothers, even though the ruling one be the younger.
A woman does not inherit at any time or under any circumstances, nor hold
property in her own right, even if she has produced it by her own labor.
There is no supremacy in regard to age in the division of property. The
things to be inherited are women (the widows), goods, house, and slaves. An
equal division, as far as it is possible, is made of all these.
The dead man's debts are to be paid by the heirs out of their inheritance,
each one paying his part. There is no written will, but it is common for a
man to announce his intention as to the division while still living.
IV. POLITICAL ORGANIZATION.
The coast tribes and some of the interior have so-called "kings," who are
chosen by their tribe to that office.
There are family cliques for the accomplishment of a desired end, but these
are overruled by the tribal king.
There are headmen in each village with local authority; but they too are
subject to the king, they having authority only in their own village.
Quarrels and discussions, called "palavers," are very common. (A palaver
need not necessarily be a quarrel; the word is derived from a Portuguese
verb = "to speak." It comes from the old days of slavery; it was the
"council" held between native chiefs and white slave traders, in the
purchase of a cargo of slaves.)
The headmen settle disputes about marriage, property rights, murders, war,
thefts, and so forth. Their decisions may be appealed from to a chief, or
carried further to the king, whose decision is final. Any one, young and
old, male and female, may be present during a discussion. Usually only
chosen persons do the speaking.
Instead of a question being referred to a chief or king, a committee of wise
men is sometimes chosen for the occasion. Public assemblages are gathered by
messengers sent out to summon the people. The meeting is presided over by
the king.
V. SERVANTS.
The domestic servants are slaves. Prisoners of war are also made to do
service; but on the making of peace male prisoners are returned to their
tribe; the female prisoners are retained and married. Slaves were bought
from interior tribes. If a male child was born to slave parents, be was
considered free and could marry into the tribe. If the slave mother died,
the widower could marry into the tribe. If the slave father died, the widow
was married by some man of the family who owned him. There are -no slaves
bought or sold now, but there is a system of "pawns," - children or women
given as a pledge for a debt and never redeemed. Their position is inferior,
and they are servants, but not slaves.
Also, if a prominent person (e.g., a headman) is killed in war, the people
who killed him are to give a daughter to his family, who may marry her to
any one they please.
A pawn may be sent away by the bolder to some other place, but he cannot be
sold or killed; but the holder may beat him if he be obstreperous.
During slavery days anything earned by a slave was taken to his master, who
would allow him a share; also, at other times, the master would give the
slave gifts. The slave could do paid labor for foreigners or other
strangers, and was not necessarily punished if he did not share his wages
with the master, but he would at least be rebuked for the omission. Women
ruled their female slaves. For a slave's minor offences, such as stealing,
the master was held responsible; for grave offences, such as murder, the
slave himself was killed.
Certain liberty was allowed a slave; be could attend the village or tribal,
palavers and take part in the discussion. If a slave was unjustly treated by
some other person, his owner could call a council and have the matter talked
over, and the slave could be allowed to plead his case.
A slave man could hold property of his own; and if be were a worthy,
sensible person, he could inherit.
In a slave's marriage of a woman the custom of gifts, feasts, and so forth
was the same as for a free man.
If ill treated, he could run away to another tribe (not to any one of his
own tribe), and would there be harbored, but still as a slave, and would not
be given up to his former owner. A slave could become free only by his
master setting him free; be could not redeem himself.
VI. KINGSHIP.
Kingship has connected with it the great honor that a son may inherit it if
he is the right kind of man; but it is possible for him to be set aside and
another chosen. A son may lose his place by foolishness and incompetency.
Attempts to rule independently of the king are sometimes made by cliques
composed of three or four young persons of the same age, who make laws or
customs peculiar to themselves. There is no national recognition of them,
nor are they given any special privilege.
Kings have very little power over the fines or property of others. These are
held, each man for himself; nor have they the right of 'taxation; but they.
have power to declare war, acting in concert with their people in declaring
it and waging it. They administer justice as magistrates, decide palavers
according to the unwritten law of custom, summon offenders, and inflict the
punishment due.
Their dwellings differ but little from those of other persons of like wealth
and personal ability.
When a palaver is called, the king sits as ruler of the meeting and does
most of the talking. He provides food for those who come from a distance.
A king may be blamed if a war he has declared ends disastrously. While a
king's son expects to inherit the title and power, there is no invariable
rule of succession; he cannot take the position by force. He must be chosen;
but the choice is limited to the members of one family, in which it is
hereditary.
If the chosen person be a minor, another is selected (but of the same
family) to act as regent. The "incompetency" which could bar a man from
kingship, even though in regular succession, would be lack of stamina in his
character. The king-elect must make a feast, to which he is to call all the
people to eat, drink, and play for twenty days.
There are no higher state forms among the coast tribes, as in civilized
lands; no union among tribes; no feudal power nor vassals; no monarchy,
nothing absolute; no taxation, no monopoly. Some of the interior tribes
formerly had tributes and kingly monopoly of certain products.
VII. FETICH DOCTORS.
They still exist, but it can scarcely be said that they are a class. They
have no organization; they have honor only in their own districts, unless
they be called specially to minister in another place. They have power to
condemn to death on charge of causing sickness. In their ceremonies they
send the people to sing, dance, play, and beat drums, and they spot their
bodies with their "medicines." Any one may choose the profession for
himself; fetich doctors demand large pay for their services.
VIII. HOSPITALITY.
A stranger is entertained hospitably. He is provided with a house and food
for two weeks, or as much longer as he may wish to stay. On departing be is
given a present. His host and the village headman are bound to protect him
from any prosecution while he is their guest, even if he be really guilty.
IX. JUDICIAL SYSTEM.
Such a system does not exist. Whatever rules there are are handed down as
tradition, by word of mouth. There are persons who are familiar with these
old sayings, proverbs, examples, and customs, and these are asked to be
present in the trial of disputed matters.
1. Courts. In the righting of any wrong the head of the family is to take
the first step. If the offenders fail to satisfy him, he appeals to the
king, who then calls all the people, rehearses the matter to them, and the
majority of their votes is accepted by the king as the decision. The
offenders will not dare to resist.
There is no regular court-house. In almost all villages there is a public
shed, or "palaver-house," which is the town-ball, or public reception room.
But a council may be held anywhere, - in the king's house, in the house of
one of the litigants, on the beach, or under a large shady tree.
The council is held at any time of day, -not at night. There are no regular
advocates; any litigant may state his own case, or have any one else do it
for him. There are no fees, except to the king for his summoning of the
case. There is sometimes betting on the result; though no stakes are
deposited, the bets are paid. There is not much form of court procedure. All
the people of a village or district, even women and children, according to
the importance of the case, assemble. While women are generally not allowed
to argue in the case, yet their shouts of approval or protest have influence
in the decision, and encourage the parties by outspoken sympathy.
If an accused. person does not come voluntarily to court, the king's
servants are sent to bring him. In the court the accused does not need to
have some one plead for him, he speaks for himself. Accusers speak first,
then the accused; the accusers reply, the accused answers; and the king and
his aged counsellors decide. Witnesses are called from other places. As
theie is no writing among untaught tribes, the depositions are by word of
mouth.
Formerly the accused was subjected to the poison ordeal; indeed, the accuser
also had to take the poison draught as a proof of his sincerity, and that
his charge was not a libel. But this custom is no longer practised on the
coast.
There is no substitution of any kind, except in rare cases. A guilty person
must bear his own punishment in some way.
Oaths are common, and are used freely and voluntarily in the course of the
discussion. A man who utters false testimony or bears false witness is
expected to be thrust out of the assembly, but it is not always done.
When an oath is required, there is no escape from it; he who refuses to
swear is considered guilty. Sometimes, under bravado, he will demand to be
given "mbwaye" (the poison test), hoping that his demand will not be
complied with. When the test is produced, be may seek to escape it by
refusing that particular kind and demanding another not readily obtainable.
But his attempt at evasion is generally regarded as a sign of guilt.
In court, parties are not obstinate in their opinion; they ask for and take
advice from others.
2. Punishment. If it be capital, the accusers are the executioners. Death is
by various modes, -formerly very cruel, e.g., burning, roasting, torturing,
amputation by piecemeal; now it is generally by gun, dagger, club, or
drowning. For a debt that a creditor is seeking to recover, securities may
be accepted. But if the accused then runs away, the person giving the
security is tried and punished.
A creditor does not usually attach the property of the debtor, though often,
in the interior tribes, a woman is seized as hostage. If a long time elapses
in deciding the matter, the debtor may be held as prisoner until the debt is
paid. Formerly it was very common for the debtor's family's property, or
even their persons, to be seized as security; and it still is common for a
person of the debtor's tribe to be caught by the creditor's tribe, and
detained until he is redeemed by his own people.
The king of the prisoner's tribe is called to help release him. If the king
himself become a captive, his people combine to collect goods for the
payment, and meanwhile give other persons in his place to secure his
immediate release. Sometimes differences are settled in a fight, by a hand-
to-hand encounter.
3. Blood Atonement and Fines. Revenge, especially for bloodshed, is
everywhere practised. It is a duty belonging first to the "ijawe" (blood-
relative), next to the "ikaka" (family), next to the "etomba" (tribe).
The murdered man's own family take the lead, - in case of a wife, her
husband and his family, and the wife's family; sometimes the whole "ikaka";
finally, the "etomba."
A master seeks revenge for his slave or other servants. Formerly it was
indifferent who was killed in revenge, so that it be some member of the
murderer's tribe. Naturally that tribe sought to retaliate, and the feud was
carried back and forth, and would be finally settled only when an equal
number had been killed on each side, -a person for a person: a woman for a
man, or vice versa; a child for a man or woman, or vice versa. A woman (wife
of the man killed) does not take the lead in the revenge; his family must
take the lead, her family must join in. They would be despised and cursed if
they did not do so. The woman herself does not take part in this killing for
revenge.
The avenger of blood may not demit his duty until some member of the other
tribe has been killed. If a thief has been killed for his theft, blood may
be taken for his death.
But when that one other life is taken, the matter is considered settled; it
is not carried on as a feud.
For a life taken by accident, a life is not required; but some penalty must
be paid, e.g., a woman may be given as a wife. But, practically, in former
times it was not admitted that "accidents" occurred; any misfortune was
adjudged a fault.
Formerly even the plea of self-defence was not accepted. Even idiotic or
otherwise irresponsible persons were held responsible, though sometimes they
were ransomed by payment of a woman and goods.
At present blood is not always required, but formerly no money would have
been accepted as a sufficient penalty. A man would have been despised for
accepting it. There was no way of settlement except by bloodshed, -a life
for a life, -except that, for the life of a woman, a woman and goods of a
certain amount and kind might be accepted. When a woman was thus given for a
murdered one, the living woman must not be old, but one capable of bearing
children. Among the acceptable goods were sheep, goats, and pottery.
A wound or a broken limb is paid for in goods. These must come not solely
from him who caused the injury; his family, as fellow offenders, must assist
in paying.
The man who obtains the woman who is given for a woman killed, retains with
her also part of the goods given with her, and part he shares with the
family of the murdered one. If, in giving a woman for a murdered one, the
offending family is unable to furnish also the required goods, they must
sell another of their women in order to obtain those goods. The point is
that they must give a woman and goods; two women will not suffice.
The ceremonies in settlement of a blood-feud are as follows: The woman is
paid in presence of both parties; then the goods are given, counted, and
received. Then both parties retire. In the course of a week the parties
receiving the woman and the goods call the other party, and produce a goat
and kill it in their presence. It is divided equally, and given half to each
party; and the feud is settled, as by a covenant of peace, over the divided
goat (Gen. xv. 10). The woman thus given in settlement will be married to
some one.
The customs in her marriage are the same as for any other woman.
Subsequently those whp paid her as a fine may come and ask a portion of
goods for her as a wife. Not that they have any claim on her as their
daughter; but the man who has married her will give the goods they ask for,
under the common belief that, unless he does so, the children born by her
will die early, or at least will not come to years of maturity.
All misdeeds and offences, even capital ones, may be condoned by a fine in
goods, excepting only the murder of a man. This murderer must forfeit his
life. These fines are paid with foreign goods, each offence having its own
regulation price as a punishment.
In general, the punishment for an injury is the same, whether the injured
one be rich or poor. A man's "majawe" are held responsible if he refuses to
make restitution. If they also refuse, the offended party await a suitable
opportunity, and then seize some one and hold him as a hostage until he is
redeemed, for the price of the original offence, every mite of it being then
exacted.
There is no right of asylum to any offender within the limit of his own
tribe. In case of a man visiting, for any reason whatever, in the limits of
another tribe one of whose members is a fugitive from justice into the
limits of the visitor's tribe, this visitor may be seized, and his
countrymen asked to extradite the criminal staying in their midst.
Corporal punishment is administered publicly, the townspeople being called
to witness it, so as to operate on their fears and cause them to dread the
doing of deeds which may bring on them such a penalty.
4. Punishable Acts. A person is punishable only for an iujury committed
intentionally, not by accident.
For damages by cattle, the animal may be killed if the damage be
considerable. The injured party may keep and eat the carcass, and the owner
cannot recover for it. In this respect animals are treated as human beings,
their lives being forfeit; and the owner's majawe are held responsible along
with him.
Punishments are rated according to the degree of the crime, in the order
theft, adultery, rape, murder. Insults are not punishable by law; the
insulted insults in return. If a fight results, and wounds are made during
the fight, no fine is required.
Kidnapping, incest, and abortion are not known.
Under the slight duty owed to kings, treason can scarcely be said to exist.
Its equivalent, the betrayal of tribal interests, is publicly rebuked, and a
curse laid on the offender. If he be a servant, he is beaten and sent away.
The disturber of the peace of a wedding is expected to express regret, but
no calamity will follow because of the disturbance. The offence is not
common.
X. TERRITORIAL RELATIONS.
The tribes have fixed settlements wherever foreign governments have not
taken possession. Each man may choose for a garden a place that has not been
already occupied. The land is common property for the tribe. But each ijawe
may choose a separate place for itself.
No man of a tribe has any claim on the soil other than is common to any
other man of that tribe. He has, however, a claim greater than any stranger.
1. Tenure. Land is held as common property; it is not bought or sold, to a
fellow-tribeman. It may be bought from the confines of another tribe, and it
is sold to foreigners. A hunter is free to go anywhere, even into the
territory of an adjacent tribe. If he kills game there, he does not have to
divide. Bee trees and honey are free to any one. The sea is free for fishing
only to the coast tribes.
Every woman has a separate garden; even the wives of polygamists do not have
gardens in common.
Soil is free. A family, however, may settle in a limited district, and claim
it as theirs as long as they live there; or, leaving it temporarily, if they
return after a reasonable time, they may still claim it. They temporarily
mark their places by trees or stones, as boundary lines. But there is
nothing permanent. They prove their right to it by residing on it or making
a garden from time to time. But their claim may be lost if the entire family
leave it and go elsewhere. Such a place being vacated, and some one else
wishing to occupy it, permission may be granted on formal application to the
king. But if an occupant has deserted a place, and no one else has applied
for it, he can resume it as his even after the lapse of years.
Dwellers on any ground have right to all the trees of fruitage on it, e.g.,
palm-nuts, and other natural wild edible nuts. Wells are never dug. People
depend on springs and streams. Springs are free, even though they be on land
claimed by others.
A man assists his wife in the clearing of the forest for a garden plot; but
she and her servants attend to the planting, weeding, and other working of
the garden itself.
2. Rights in Movables. The tenant dweller on any particular lot of ground
owns everything on it, except the ground itself. If a foreigner buy a piece
of ground, he may or may not buy the houses, and so forth, according to
agreement. The movables on any ground are houses, trees, and any vegetables
planted.
XI. EXCHANGE RELATIONS.
There is no coin or metal currency, except among the coast tribes, where
foreign governments have introduced it. Foreign trade-goods are everywhere
the medium of purchase and exohange. But there is a sort of currency, in the
shape of iron spear-heads and other forms resembling miniature hatchets, a
certain number of which are given by interior tribes in the purchase of a
wife. They are used only for this purpose, and are exchanged by the parties
themselves for the foreign goods required in the dowry.
They are manufactured by any village blacksmith from imported iron. They are
not received or recognized by white traders.
Formerly cowry shells were used, even by foreign traders, as a currency; and
they are still so used in the Sudan. But in all coast tribes purchase and
sale are effected by foreign-made calico prints, pottery, cutlery, guns,
powder, rum, and a great variety of other goods.
The natural products of the country - ivory, rubber, palm-oil, dyewoods -
and many other native unmanufactured articles are exchanged for these goods.
The natural products belong to the men. If a woman should find ivory, she
cannot sell it; it belongs to her husband to barter it.
Contracts are confirmed in various ways in different tribes. A common mode
is to eat and drink together, as a sign that the bargain is closed; and it
will not be broken. A contract cannot be broken after the price is agreed
upon, even if only a part of the price is paid; the remainder is to be paid
in instalments.
If one overreaches another in a trade, he must take back the imperfect
article or add to it. This is true, according to native law, among
themselves. Any amount of overreaching and deception is practised toward
foreigners in a trade, or to members of another tribe; and many foreigners
are just as guilty in their dealings with the natives.
Loans of trade-goods are constantly made, but the taking of interest
therefor is not known. If a borrowed article, such as a canoe, is broken or
lost, a new canoe must be given in its place. If the canoe is only injured
and had been in want of repair, the borrower, on returning it, must repair
it and also pay some goods. One going as surety for goods is held
responsible.
Pawning of goods is commonly practised everywhere.
People are generous in making gifts to friends, or donations to the needy;
but if a man who has been helped in time of distress subsequently increases
in wealth, the one who helped him may demand a return of the original gift.
XII. RELIGION.
Religion is intimately mixed with every one of these aforementioned
sociological aspects of family, rights of property, authority, tribal
organization, judicial trials, punishments, intertribal relations, and
commerce.
Mr. R. E. Dennett, residing in Loango, has made a careful and philosophic
investigation into the religious ideas of the Ba-Vili or Fyāt nation and
adjacent tribes bordering on the Kongo. The result of his research shows
that the native tribal government and religious and social life are
inseparably united. He claims to have discovered a complex system of
"numbers" and "powers" showing the Loango people to be more highly organized
politically than are the equatorial tribes, and revealing a very curious co-
relation of those "numbers," governing the physical, rational, and moral
natures, with conscience and with God.
Some traces of the"numbers with meanings " are found in Yoruba, where, as
described by Mr. Dennett, the division of the months of the year, the names
of lower animals typical of the senses, and the powers of earth that speak
to us represent religious ideas and relations. They err, therefore, who, as
superficial observers, would brush away all these native views as mere
superstition. They are more than mere superstition; though indeed very
superstitious, they point to God.
The particular exponent of religious worship, the fetich, governs the
arrangements of all such relations. It will be discussed as to its origin
and the details of its use in the subsequent chapters.
CHAPTER II
THE IDEA OF GOD -RELIGION
MISSIONARY PAUL of Tarsus, in the polite exordium of his great address to
the Athenian philosophers on Mars Hill, courteously tells them that be
believes them to be a very"religious " people, - indeed, too much so in
their broad-church willingness to give room for an altar to the worship of
any new immanence of God; and then, with equal courtesy, he tells them that,
with all their civilization, with all their eminence in art and philosophy,
they were ignorant of the true character of a greater than any deity in
their pantheon.
Modern missionaries, also, in studying the beliefs and forms of worship of
the heathen nations among whom they dwell, while they may be shocked at the
immoralities, cruelties, or absurdities of the special cult they are
investigating, have to acknowledge that its followers, in their practice of
it, exhibit a devotion, a persistence, and a faithfulness worthy of
Christian martyrs. They are very "religious." Verily, if the obtaining of
heaven and final salvation rested only on sincerity of belief and
consistency of practice, the multitudinous followers of the so-called false
religions would have an assurance greater than that of many professors of
what is known as Christianity, and much of the occupation of the Christian
missionary would be gone.
I say much; but not all, by any means. For the feeling with which I was
impressed on my very first contact with the miseries of the sociology of
heathenism, entirely aside from its theology and any question of salvation
in a future life, has steadily deepened into the conviction that, even if I
were not a Christian, I still ought to, and would, do and bear and suffer
whatever God has called or allowed me to suffer or bear or do since 1861 -in
my proclamation of His gospel, simply for the sake of the elevation of
heathen during their present earthly life from the wrongs sanctioned by or
growing out of their religion. Distinctly is it true that "Godliness is
profitable unto all things, "not only for the life" which is to come," but
also for "the life that now is." Those in Christian lands who have no
sympathy for, or who refuse to take any interest in, what are known as
"Foreign Missions," err egregiously in their failure to recognize the
indisputable fact that they themselves are debtors for their possession of
protected life, true liberty, and unoppressed pursuit of personal happiness,
not to civilization as such, but to the form of religious belief called
Christianity, which made that civilization possible. And by just so much as
divine law has ordained us each our brother's keeper, we are bound to share
the blessings of the gospel with those whom God has made of one blood with
us in the brotherhood of humanity.
A pursuit of this line of thought would lead me into an argument for the
duty of foreign missions. That is not the direct object of these pages.
True, I pray that, as a result of any reader's following me in this study of
African superstition, his desire will be deepened to give to Africa the pure
truth in place of its falsity. But the special object of my pen, in
following a certain thread of truth, is to show how degradingly false is
that falsity, in its lapse from God, even though I accord it the name of
religion.
For my present purpose it is sufficiently accurate to define theology as
that department of knowledge which takes cognizance of God, - His being, His
character, and His relation to His Cosmos. Whenever any intelligent unit in
that Cosmos looks up to Him as something greater than itself, under what
Schleiermacher describes as "a sense of infinite dependence," and utters its
need, it has expressed its religion. It may be weak, superstitious, and
mixed with untruth; nevertheless, it is religion.
When a study of God and the thoughts concerning Him crystallize into a
formula of words expressing a certain belief, it is definitely a creed.
When, under a human necessity, a creed clothes itself in certain rites,
ceremonies, and formulas of practice, it is a worship. That worship may be
fearful in its cruelty or ridiculous in its frivolity; nevertheless, it is a
worship. Worship is essential to the vitality of religion; without it
religion is simply a theory.
Theology differentiates itself from other departments of knowledge, as to
its source and its effects. For instance, in the study of geography, as to
its effects, it is comparatively a matter of indifference whether we believe
that the earth is flat or globular, like Booker T. Washington's teacher who
in his district school was prepared to teach either, "according to the
preference of a majority of his patrons"; or, in astronomy, whether we
believe that the sun is the stationary centre of our planetary system, or
whether, with the late Rev. John Jasper, we assert that the sun "do move"
around our earth.
But in theology it matters enormously for this present life, whether we
believe the supreme object of our worship to be Moloch, and infinitely for
our future life, whether Jesus be to us the Son of God.
As to the source of theological knowledge, all our other knowledge is
evolved, systematized, and developed by patient experiment and
investigation. The results of any particular branch of human knowledge are
cumulative, and are enlarged and perfected from generation to generation.
But the source of our knowledge of God is not in us, any more than our
spiritual life had its source in ourselves. It came ab extra. God breathed
into the earthly form of Adam the breath of life, and be became a living
creature, essentially and radically different from the beasts over which he
was given dominion. Knowledge of God was thus an original, donated,
component part of us. It grew under revelations made during the angelic
communications before the Fall. Revelation was continued by the Logos along
thousands of years, until that Logos himself became flesh and dwelt among us
in visible form in His written word, and by His Comforter, who still reveals
to us.
I do not feel it necessary here to discuss, or even to express an opinion as
to the evolution of the physical species. I know, simply because God says
so, - and am satisfied with this knowledge, -that "in the beginning God
created." As to when that "beginning" was, there may be respectable
difference of opinion; for it is only a human opinion that asserts when.
Assertion may have apparently very reliable data; but these data often are
like the bits of glass, factors in the geometric figures of a kaleidoscope,
whose next turn in scientific discovery dislocates and relocates in an
apparently reliable proof of the existence of another figure.
As to what it was that God created in that beginning, there may be also
respectable difference of opinion. Whether, like Minerva, full armed from
the head of Jove, Adam sprang into his perfect physical, mental, and moral
manhood on the sixth of consecutive days of twenty-four solar hours each; or
whether, created a weakling, he slowly grew up to perfect development; or
whether life began only in protoplasm, and gradually differentiated itself
into the forms of beasts, and finally into that of man, - back of all was a
great First Cause that "created" in the "beginning." It is all a subject
fearfully wonderful.
"My substance was not hid from Thee when I was made in secret, and curiously
wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance,
yet being unperfeet; and in Thy book all my members were written, which in
continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them."
But all such assertion, discussion, and attempt at proof I allow only to
what is physical and finite, and is therefore a legitimate subject of
assertion on merely physical data; for I do not desire to discuss, beyond
simple mention, the Spencerian doctrine of evolution, that materialism which
would make thought and soul only successions in a series (even if the
highest and best) of evoluted developments. To account for the religious
nature in man by evolution I regard as a thing that cannot be done. It is a
tenable position held by evolutionists such as Dana, Winchell, and the late
Professor Le Conte of California, that "at the creation of man the divine
fiat asserted itself, and 'breathed into man the breath of life, and man
became a living soul.' Immortality cannot be evolved out of mortality. If
Spencerian evolution is true, either everything is immortal or nothing is
immortal; man and vermin in this hypothesis go together."
Man's soul came to him direct from God, a part of His own infinite life, in
His "image," and like Him in His holiness. Man's thoughts of God were holy.
The expression of them in words and acts was his practical religion, the
visible, audible link that "bound" (ligated) him to God. In this there could
be no evolution, unless that, in the many forms and ceremonies used in the
expression of religious thought (which ceremonies constitute worship), there
could be, and were, variation, change, development, or retrogression.
Therefore I cannot accept the conclusions of those who in their study of
ethnology claim to find that the religious beliefs of the world, and even
the very idea of a Supreme Being, have been evolved by man himself ab intra.
They claim that this evolution has been by primitive man, from low forms of
beliefs in spiritual beings, through polytheism and idolatry, up to the
conception of monotheism and its belief in the one living God. This process
they claim to be able to follow on lines racial and national, under the
civilizations of Chaldee, Greek, Roman, Teutonic, and other stocks.
"Until some human being can be found with a conception of spiritual
existences without his having received instruction on that point from those
who went before him, the claim . . . that primitive man ever obtained his
spiritual knowledge or his spiritual conceptions from within himself alone,
or without an external revelation to him, is an unscientific assumption in
the investigation of the origin of religions in the world." [1]
[1. Trumbull, Blood Covenant, p. 311.]
The rather I find, in my own ethnological observations during these more
than forty years in direct contact with aboriginal peoples, that the initial
starting-point of man's knowledge of God was by revelation from Jehovah
himself. This knowledge was to be conserved by man's conscience, God's
implanted witness, - a witness that can be coerced into silence, that may be
nursed into forgetfulness, that may be perverted by abuse, that may be
covered up by superimposed falsities, that may be discolored by the
blackness of foul degradation, but which can never be utterly destroyed;
which on occasions, like the Titans, arouses itself with volcanic force;
which at God's final bar is to be His sufficient proof for the verities and
responsibilities of at least natural religion ("natural" religion, a
recognition of certain attributes of God as revealed in the works of
nature). This knowledge of God, a treasure hid in earthen vessels, rightly
used and cherished, was to grow and develop under subsequdnt divine
revelation, so that man might become more and more like his divine original;
or, if abused, neglected, or perverted, it would carry him even farther away
from God.
"Not alone those who insist on the belief that there was a gradual
development of the race from a barbarous beginning, but also those who
believe that man started on a higher plane, and in his degradation retained
vesticres of God's original revelation to him, are finding profit in the
study of primitive Myths, and of aboriginal rites and ceremonies all the
world over." [1]
I do not impeach the sincerity of those students of primitive thought who
teach that man in his religious beliefs has reached his present monotheism
by progressive growths from polytheism, or that he has attained his present
conception of the very existence of a Supreme Being by a gradual emergence
from a state of ignorance in which even the idea of such a being did not
exist; but I do discount the
[1. Trumbull, Blood Covenant, p. 4.]
competency of many of the witnesses on whose testimony they base their
conclusions.
Whatever may be proved in a complete investigation by science into the
arcana of nature, - of archęology and other channels of research, - a
reverent comparison of these results of finite intelligence will find them
not inconsistent with the statements of God's infinite Word. Indeed, that
Word was not written to make any definite statement on astronomy or geology,
or any other human science. The only science of the Bible is that of man's
relation to his divine Father; its only history a history of redemption, as
promised to Eve and her seed, the Jewish nation, and as fulfilled in the
Lion of the Tribe of Judah. Apparent conflicts of the Bible with science are
not always real; too often a claim is set up, based on a single observation,
perbaps hastily made, and not verified by a comparison of the variable
factors in that observation.
I suppose that it is true that in the theology of even the worst forms of
religion there is more or less truth, and almost equally true that in the
theology of the best forms there may be somewhat of superstition. This is so
because, as I believe, all religions bad but one source, and that a pure
one. From it have grown perversions varying in their proportion of truth and
error.
In this study of the African theologic ideas I shall endeavor to separate
these two -the false and the true - into two divisions: First, Beliefs in
God more or less true, which have had their birth in tradition of some
divine revelation, which find at least faint echoes in human conscience, and
which among exalted nations would be formulated into confessions, creeds,
and articles of faith. Second, Animism or beliefs in vague spiritual beings,
which, being almost pure superstitions, cannot, from their very nature, be
accurately formulated, they being the outgrowth of every individual's
imagination, and varying with all the variances of time, place, and human
thought.
Eliminating from any theology its superstitious element, we shall find the
highest and truest religion. But if you eliminate from the theology of the
Bantu African its superstition, you will have very little left; for, among
the religions of the world, it comes nearest to being purely a superstition.
So nearly is this true that travellers and other superficial observers and
theorists have asserted that the religious beliefs of some degraded tribes
were simply superstitions, destitute of reference to any superior being.
I can readily see how the reports of some travellers - even of those who had
no prejudice against the Negro, the precepts of the Bible, or missionary
work - could be made in apparent sincerity, when they state that native
Africans have confessed of themselves that they had no idea of God's
existence; also, their belief that some pygmy and other tribes were too
destitute of intelligence to possess that idea, - that it either must be
given them ab extra by the possessors of a superior civilization, or must be
developed by themselves as they rise in civilization.
The difficulty about the testimony of these witnesses in this matter is
that, being passers-by in time, they were unable - by reason of lack of
ability to converse fluently, or absence of a reliable interpreter, or of
being out of touch with native mode of thought or speech -to make their
questionings intelligible.
On the heathen side, also, the obsequious natives, unaccustomed to analytic
thought, will answer vaguely on the spur of the moment, and often as far as
possible in the line of what they suppose will best please the questioner.
All native statements must be discounted, must be sifted.
I am aware that some missionaries are quoted as having said or written that
the people among whom they were laboring "had no idea of God." Even Robert
Moffat is reported to have held this opinion. If so, it must have been in
the earlier days of his ministry, under his first shock at the depth of
native degradation, before he bad become fluent in the native language, and
before he had found out all the secrets of that difficult problem, an
African's native thought. Such an unqualified phrase could be uttered by a
missionary in an hour of depression, in the presence of some great
demonstration of heathen wickedness, and in an effort to describe how very
far the heathen was from God. That the heathen had no correct idea of God is
often true.
Arnot, who among modern African missionaries has lived most closely and
intimately with the rudest tribes in their veriest hovels, writes: [1] "Man
is a very fragile being, and be is fully conscious that be requires
supernatural or divine aid. Apart from the distinct revelation given by God
in the first chapter of Romans, there is much to prove that the heathen
African is a man to whom the living God has aforetime revealed himself. But
he had sought after things of his own imagination and things of darkness to
satisfy those convictions and fears which lurk in his breast, and which have
not been planted there by the Evil One, but by God. Refusing to acknowledge
God, [2] they have become haters of God .[3] The preaching of the gospel to
them, however, is not a mere beating of the air; there is a peg in the wall
upon which something can be hung and remain. Often a few young men have
received the message with laughter and ridicule, but I have afterwards heard
them discuss my words amongst themselves very gravely. I heard one man say
to a neighbor, 'Monare's words pierce the heart.' Another remarked that the
story of Christ's death was very beautiful, but that he knew it was not
meant for him; he was a 'makala' (slave), and such a sacrifice was only for
white men and princes."
Lionel Declč,[4] Who certainly is not prejudiced toward missionaries or the
Negro, writes of the Barotse tribe in South Africa and their worship of
ancestors: "They believe in a Supreme Being, Niambe, who is supl)osed to
come and take away the spiritual part of the dead." This
[1. Garenganze, p. 79.
2 Rom. i. 28, margin.
3. Rom. i. 30.
4 Three Years in Savage Africa, p. 74.]
name "Niambe," for the Deity, is almost exactly the same as "Anyambe," in
Benga, two thousand miles distant.
Illustrative of traveller Declč's baste or inexactitude in the use of
language, he apparently contradicts himself on page 153, in speaking of a
tribe, the Matabele, adjacent to the Barotse: "The idea of a Supreme Being
is utterly foreign, and cannot be appreciated by the native mind. They have
a vague idea of a number of evil spirits always ready to do harm, and chief
among these are the spirits of their ancestors; but they do not pray to them
to ask for their help if they wish to enter on any undertaking. They merely
offer sacrifices to appease them when some evil has befallen the family."
Perhaps he and other cursory travellers, in making such hasty assertions,
mean that the native has no idea of the true character of God; in that they
would be correct.
The accounts which some travellers have given of tribes without religion I
either set down to misunderstanding, or consider them to be insufficient to
invalidate the assertion that religion is a universal feature of savage
life.
However degraded, every people have a religion. But they are children, babes
in the woods, lost in the forest of ignorance, dense and more morally
malarious than Stanley's forest of Urega. In their helplessness, under a
feeling of their "infinite dependence," they cry out in the night of their
orphanage, "Help us, O Paia Njambe!" Their forefathers wandered so far from
him that only a name is left by which to describe the All-Father, whose true
character has been utterly forgotten, - so forgotten that they rarely
worship him, but have given such honor and reverence as they do render
literally to the supposed spiritual residents in stocks and stones. "Lo!
this only have I found, that God hath made man -upright; but they have
sought out many inventions."
Offering in the following pages a formulation of African superstitious
beliefs and practice, I premise that I have gathered them from a very large
number of native witnesses, very few of whom presented to me all the same
ideas. Any one else, inquiring of other natives in other places, would not
find, as held by every one of them, all that I have recorded; but parts of
all these separate ideas will be found held by separate individuals
everywhere.
After more than forty years' residence among these tribes, fluently using
their language, conversant with their customs, dwelling intimately in their
huts, associating with them in the varied relations of teacher, pastor,
friend, master, fellow-traveller, and guest, and, in my special office as
missionary, searching after their religious thought (and therefore being
allowed a deeper entrance into the arcana of their soul than would be
accorded to a passing explorer), I am able unhesitatingly to say that among
all the multitude of degraded ones with whom I have met, I have seen or
heard of none whose religious thought was only a superstition.
Standing in the village street, surrounded by a company whom their chief has
courteously summoned at my request, when I say to him, "I have come to speak
to your people," I do not need to begin by telling them that there is a God.
Looking on that motley assemblage of villagers, - the bold, gaunt cannibal
with his armament of gun, spear, and dagger; the artisan with rude adze in
hand, or hands soiled at the antique bellows of the village smithy; women
who have hasted from their kitchen fire with hands white with the manioc
dough or still grasping the partly scaled fish; and children checked in
their play with tiny bow and arrow or startled from their dusty street
pursuit of dog or goat, - I have yet to be asked, "Who is God?"
Under the slightly varying form of Anyambe, Anyambie, Njambi, Nzambi, Anzam,
Nyam, or, in other parts, Ukuku, Suku, and so forth, they know of a Being
superior to themselves, of whom they themselves inform me that he is the
Maker and Father. The divine and human relations of these two names at once
give me ground on which to stand in beginning my address.
If suddenly they should be asked the flat question, "Do you know Anyambe?"
they would probably tell any white visitor, trader, traveller, or even
missionary, under a feeling of their general ignorance and the white man's
superior knowledge, "No! What do we know? You are white people and are
spirits; you come from Njambi's town, and know all about him!" (This will
help to explain, what is probably true, that some natives have sometimes
made the thoughtless admission that they "know nothing about a God.") I
reply, "No, I am not a spirit; and, while I do indeed know about Anyambe, I
did not call him by that name. It's your own word. Where did you get it?"
"Our forefathers told us that name. Njambi is the One-who-made-us. He is our
Father." Pursuing the conversation, they will interestedly and voluntarily
say, "He made these trees, that mountain, this river, these goats and
chickens, and us people."
That typical conversation I have had hundreds of times, under an immense
variety of circumstances, with the most varied audiences, and before
extremes of ignorance, savagery, and uncivilization, utterly barring out the
admission of a probability that the tribe, audience, or individual in
question bad obtained a previous knowledge of the name by hearsay from
adjacent more enlightened tribes. For the name of that Great Being was
everywhere and in every tribe before any of them had become enlightened;
varied in form in each tribe by the dialectic difference belonging to their
own, and not imported from others, - for, where tribes are hundreds of miles
apart or their dialects greatly differ, the variation in the name is great,
e.g., "Suku," of the Bihe country, south of the Kongo River and in the
interior back of Angola, and "Nzam" of the cannibal Fang, north of the
equator.
But while it is therefore undeniable that a knowledge of this Great Being
exists among the natives, and that the belief is held that he is a superior
and even a supreme being, that supremacy is not so great as what we ascribe
to Jehovah. Nevertheless, I believe that the knowledge of their Anzam or
Anyambe has come down-clouded though it be and fearfully obscured and
marred, but still a revelationfrom Jehovah Himself. Most of the same virtues
which we in our enlightened Christianity commend, and many of the vices
which we denounce, they respectively commend and denounce. No one of them
praises to me theft or falsehood or murder. They speak of certain virtues as
"good," and of other things which are "bad," though, just as do the depraved
of Christian lands, they follow the vices they condemn. True, certain evils
they do defend, e.g. (as did some of our New England ancestors) witchcraft
executions, justifying them as judicial acts; and polygamy, considering it
(as our civilized Mormons) a desirable social institution (but, unlike the
Mormons, not claiming for it the sanction of religion); and slavery,
regarded (as only a generation ago in the United States) as necessary for a
certain kind of property. But theft, falsehood, and some other sins, when
committed by others, their own consciences condemn, - closely covered up and
blunted as those consciences may be, - thus witnessing with and for God.
While all this is true, their knowledge of God is almost simply a theory. It
is an accepted belief, but it does not often influence their life. "God is
not in all their thought." In practice they give Him no worship. God is
simply "counted out."
Resuming my street-preaching conversation: Immediately after the admission
by the audience of their knowledge of Anzam as the Creator and Father, I
say, "Why then do you not obey this Father's commands, who tells you to do
so and so? Why do you disobey his prohibitions, who forbids you to do so and
so? Why do you not worship him?" Promptly they reply: "Yes, he made us; but,
having made us, be abandoned us, does not care for us; he is far from us.
Why should we care for him? He does not help nor harm us. It is the spirits
who can harm us whom we fear and worship, and for whom we care."
Another witness on this subject is the Rev. Dr. J. L. Wilson.[1] Speaking of
Africa and its Negro inhabitants, he says: "The belief in one great Supreme
Being is universal. Nor is this idea held imperfectly or obscurely developed
in their minds. The impression is so deeply engraved upon their moral and
mental nature that any system of atheism strikes them as too absurd and
preposterous to require a denial. Everything which transpires in the natural
world beyond the power of man or of spirits, who are supposed to occupy a
place somewhat higher than man, is at once and spontaneously ascribed to the
agency of God. All the tribes in the country with which the writer has
become acquainted (and they are not few) have a name for God; and many of
them have two or more, significant of His character as a Maker, Preserver,
and Benefactor. (In the Grebo country Nyiswa is the common name for God; but
He is sometimes called Geyi, indicative of His character as Maker. In
Ashanti He has two names: viz., Yankumpon, which signifies 'My Great
Friend,' and Yemi, 'My Maker.') The people, however, have no correct idea.
of the character or attributes of the Deity. Destitute of (a written)
revelation, and without any other means of forming a correct conception of
His moral nature, they naturally reason up from their own natures, and, in
consequence, think of Him as a being like themselves.
"Nor have they any correct notion of the control which God exercises over
the affairs of the world. The prevailing notion seems to be that God, after
having made the world and filled it with inhabitants, retired to some remote
corner of the universe, and has allowed the affairs of the world to come
under the control of evil spirits; and hence the only religious worship that
is ever performed is directed to these spirits, the object of which is to
court their favor, or ward off the evil effects of their displeasure.
"On some rare occasions,as at the ratification of an important treaty, or
when a man is condemned to drink the 'redwater ordeal,' the name of God is
solemnly invoked; and, what is worthy of note, is invoked three times with
marked
[1.Western Africa, p. 209.]
precision. Whether this involves the idea of a Trinity we shall not pretend
to decide; but the fact itself is worthy of record. Many of the tribes speak
of the 'Son of God.' The Grebos call him 'Greh,' and the Amina people,
according to Pritchard, call him 'Sankombum.'"
The following testimony I gather from conversations with the late Rev. Ibia
j'Ikenge, a native minister and member of the Presbytery of Corisco, who
himself was born in heathenism. He stated:
That his forefathers believed in many inferior agencies who are under the
control of a Superior Being; that they were therefore primitive monotheists.
Under great emergencies they looked beyond the lower beings, and asked help
of that Superior; before doing so, they prayed to him, imploring him as
Father to help;
That the people of this country believed God made the world and everything
in it; but be did not know whether they had had any ideas about creation
from dust of the ground or in God's likeness;
That they believed in the existence, in the first times, of a great man, who
had simply to speak, and all things were made by the word of his power. As
to man's creation, a legend states it thus: Two eggs fell from on high. On
striking the ground and breaking, one became a man and the other a woman.
(Apparently there is no memory of any legend indicating the name, character,
or work of the Holy Spirit.)
That there is a legend of a great chief of a village who always warned
people not to eat of the fruit of a certain tree. Finally, he himself ate of
it and died;
That there was no legend, but, among a few persons, a vague tradition of a
once happy period, and of a coming time of good; but he knew of nothing
corresponding to the story of Cain and Abel;
That there is a fable that a woman brought to the people of her village the
fruit of a forbidden tree. In order to hide it she swallowed it; and she
became possessed of an evil spirit, which was the beginning of witchcraft;
That there was some tradition of a Deluge (he was not aware of any about the
Dispersion at the Tower of Babel);
That all men believed they were sinners, but that they knew of no remedy for
sin;
That sacrifices are made constantly, their object being to appease the
spirits and avert their anger;
That many of the tribes are, and probably all, before they emerged on the
seacoast, were cannibal (of the origin of cannibalism he did not know, but
he was certain it had no religious idea associated with it[1]);
That there was a legend that a "Son" of God, by name Ilongo ja Anyambe, was
to come and deliver mankind from trouble and give them happiness; but as he
had not as yet come, the heathen were no longer expecting him;
That there was a division of time, six months, making an "upuma," or year,
and a rest day, which came two days after the new moon, and was called Buhwa
bwa Mandanda, - it was a day for dancing and feasting;
That the dead were usually buried; but persons held in superstitious
reverence, as twins, Udinge, etc., were not buried, but left at the foot of
a ceiba, or silk-cotton tree, or other sacred tree;
That burial-places are regarded with a mixed feeling of reverence and awe;
That the immortality of the soul is believed in, but that there is no
tradition of the resurrection of the body;
That they believe God gave law to mankind, and that, for those who keep this
law, there is reserved in the future a "good place," and for the bad a "bad
place," but no definite ideas about what that "good" or that "bad " will be,
or as to the locality of those places;
That they believe in a distinction of spirits, - that some are demons, as in
the old days of demoniacal possession, this distinction following the Jewish
idea of diaboloi and daimonai.
[1. I am strongly disposed to think that, in its origin, there was a
sacrificial idea connected with cannibalism. - R. H. N.]
CHAPTER III
POLYTHEISM - IDOLATRY
CIVILIZATION and religion do not necessirily move with equal pace. Whatever
is really best in the ethics of civilization is derived from religion. If
civilization falls backward, religion probably has already weakened or will
also fall. The converse is not necessarily true. Religion may halt or even
retrograde, while civilization steps on brilliantly, as it did in Greece
with her Parthenon, and in Rome the while that religion added to the number
of idols in the pantheon. Egypt, too, had her men learned in astronomy, who
built splendid palaces and hundred-pillared Thebes the while they were
worshipping Osiris. The dwellers before the Deluge had carried their
civilization to a knowledge of arts now lost, while their wickedness and
utter wanderings from God's worship caused the earth to cry out for a
cleansing Flood.
Whatever therefore may be true in the history of civilization - whether man
was gifted, ab initio, with a large measure of useful knowledge which he had
simply easily to put into practice; or whether, as a savage, primitive man
had slowly and painfully to find out under pressure the use of fire,
clothing, weapons of defence and offence, tools, and other necessary
articles and arts - is not important here to be discussed. From whatever
point of vantage, high or low, Adam's sons started, we know that they bad at
least tools for agriculture [1] and for the building of houses; [2] and that
a few
[1. Gen iv. 2.
2. Gen iv. 17.]
generations later, their knowledge of arts had grown from those which aided
in the acquisition of the bare necessaries of life into the ęstheties of
music and metallic ornamentation.[1]
But religion did not wait that length of time for its growth. To the
original pair in Eden, Jehovah had given a knowledge of Himself. They felt
His character, they were told His will; and when they had disobeyed that
will, they were given a promise of salvation, and were instructed in certain
given rites of worship, e.g., offerings and sacrifice. They knew[2] the
significance of atoning blood, and the difference between a simple thank-
offering and a sin-offering. All this knowledge of religion was not a
possession which man had attained by slow degrees. He started with it in
full possession, while yet he was clothed only in the skins of beasts[3] and
before he knew how to make musical instruments or to fashion brass and iron.
His religion was in advance of his civilization. Subsequently his
civilization pushed ahead.
What were the gradual steps before the Deluge, in the divergence of man's
worship of God, is not difficult to imagine if we look at the history of the
Chaldees, of the Hittites, and of the Jews themselves. Subsequent to the
Deluge, from the grateful sacrifice of the seventh animal by Noah, to
Abraham's typical offering of Isaac, it is not a very far cry to the
butchery of Jephthah's daughter or the immolations to Moloch. A well-
intended Ed [4] may readily become a schismatic Mecca. An altar of Dan is
soon furnished with its golden calf.
With this as a starting-point, viz., that the knowledge of himself was
directly imparted to man by Jehovah, and that certain forms of worship were
originally directed and sanctioned by Him, I wish in subsequent pages to
follow that line of light through the labyrinths of man's wandering from
monotheism into polytheism, idolatry, and even into crass fetichism.
Abstract faith is difficult. It is so much easier to believe what we see, to
have faith assisted by sight. Even such faith is not without its blessing,
but"blessed are they that have
[1. Gen. iv. 21, 22.
2 Heb. xi. 4.
3 Gen. iii. 21.
4 Joshua xxii. 34.]
not seen, and yet have believed."[1] Memory is assisted by visible signs;
whence the art of writing,-in its usefulness so far beyond the Indian's
wampum belts. Merely oral law is apt to be forgotten, or its requisitions
and prohibitions become hazy.
As the years passed by, and nations, after the dispersion from the tower on
the plain of Shinar, diverged more and more, not only in speech and writing
but also in customs, their religious thought began to vary from the simple
standard of Adam and Noah. Between those small beginnings of variation and
the gulf-like depth of the fetich, there are three successive steps.
First, retaining the name of and belief in and worship of Jehovah, mankind
added something else. They associated with Jehovah certain natural objects.
This, it is readily conceivable, they could do without feeling that they
were dishonoring Him. They could not see Him; in their expression of their
wants in prayer they were speaking into vague space and heard no audible
response. The strain on simple unassisted faith was heavy. The senses asked
for something on which they could lean. Very reasonable, therefore, it was
for the pious thought, in speaking to the Great Invisible, to associate
closely with His name the great natural objects in which His character was
revealed or illustrated the, - sun, shining in strength and beneficently
giving life to plants and the comfort of its warmth to all creation; the
moon, benefiting in a similar though less prominent way; the sky, from which
spake the thunder; the mountain, towering in its solemn majesty; the sea,
spread out in its inscrutable immensity. All these illustrating some of
Jehovah's attributes, -His power, goodness, infinity, -without impropriety
associated themselves in man's thought of God, were named along with His
name, and were looked upon with same of the sarne reverence which was ac
corded to Him. In all this there was no conscious departure from the worship
of the one living and true God. The position to which these great natural
objects were gradually elevated
[1. John xx. 29.]
relatively to God, in the thought of the worshipper, was not as yet
blasphemous, or in any intentional way derogatory to Him. But the evil in
this elevation of nature into prominence with God was that there was no
limit to the number of objects or the degree of their elevation. From the
dignified use of sun, moon, sky, and sea, by unconscious degradations
animals became the objects of worship-the bull, the serpent, and the cat
(each illustrative of some attribute), and thence finally objects that were
frivolous, ridiculous, or disgusting, which nevertheless were each the
exponent of some principle. Even the indecencies of Phallic worship had
found their dignified beginning in an attempt to honor the great principle
of life in nature's procreative processes.
But there came a time, in the multiplying of the objects illustrative of
God's attributes, when they, by their very numbers, minimized divine
dignity. Their constant, visible, tangible presence to the senses begaii not
simply passively to represent God, but actively to personify Him, and
Jehovah was subdivided. He was still the great God; but these others were
given riot only a naine, but a personality which shadowed Him and dishonored
Him, by admitting them to fellowship with Him, and regmaling Him as no
longer alone the, great I Am. Though supreme, His supremacy was not
exclusive; it was comparative. He was over others, who also were gods, with
whom He shared His power, and to whom was to be given somewhat of His
worship. He was not indeed denied, but He was dishonored. He became only one
of the many gods along with Baal and Ashtaroth. But the worship of Him was
not abandoned. He was worshipped along with these others, as One among many.
And finally polytheism had become the belief of the world, except of the
many scattered small communities which, with their priests of the Most High
God, like Melchisedek and Job, held the true light from extinction.
"Jehovah" became a name for the Deity of a nation; each nation, while
reverencing its own god, not denying power to that of another nation. Man's
little thought was trying to localize the Deity in its own small tribal
limits.
Philistia worshipped its Dagon, but it feared and made trespass offerings to
Jehovah of the Ark of Israel's Covenant.[1]
Nebuchadnezzar, startled by a vision of a Son of God in the flame of his
fiery furnace, in an hour of repentance could decree that the God of
Shadrach, Meshacb, and Abednego should not be spoken against.[2] This was
the second step in religion's retrograde movement. The personified natural
objects were actually worshipped. No longer considered simply as
representatives of God, they were actually given a part of God's place, and
were worshipped as God. The prayer was not, "Jehovah, bear us, for the sake
of Baal , through whom we plead!" nor "O Baal, present our petition to
Jehovah!" but, flatly and directly,"O Baal, hear us!"
Having reached in their religious thought this position of a belief in many
gods, it was a natural and logical result that worship was to be rendered to
them all. The sacrifices that had been offered to Jehovah alone were divided
for service to other gods. But it was the same religious sentiment, in both
monotheist and polytheist, that prompted the rendering of prayer, sacrifice,
and other service. The same sense of an "infinite dependence" that had led
arms of weak faith to lay hold for help on that which was nearest and most
obvious, operated with the heathen who had wandered from God, in his
petition to his many gods, just as it had operated originally with the
worshipper of the true God. The sentiment was right, the principle was good;
only, its application was wrong, -sometimes fearfully wrong. Man's religious
nature is a force. There are other forces in nature that belong to other
domains than religion. They are good forces if well applied; they become
engines of destruction if misapplied or applied in excess.
In all history no misapplied force has wrought more fearful evil than the
religious. It made holy even the atrocities of the Inquisition; it ordained
a Te Deum for the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day.
Similarly mankind found not only justification but propriety
[1. I Sam. vi. 3.
2 Dan. iii. 29.]
in the human sacrifices to Moloch, and in the holocausts of the Aztec
civilization. If in giving a gift of thanks, tribute, admiration, or fear to
a human friend, ruler, or employer, we choose that which is good and best in
our own eyes, so as to win the favor of the being to whom it is given, much
more would we strive to please the god in whose power lies our life, health,
and prosperity. It was a logical result, therefore, in choosing for
sacrifice on great emergencies, to select the bestbeloved child. Moloch
would be pleased and propitiated by such a valuable gift. The more that the
human love was renounced in the agony of the parents' view of their child's
dying struggle, the more favorable would be the response to the worshipper.
Under this misapplied religious force an Iphigenia is logical, and the Hindu
infant cast to Gunga's wave a fitting offering in the agonized mother's
eyes. But how fearfully mistaken! The religion that recognizes and directs
such abuse is a "false religion," as compared with Christianity; not in the
sense that it has nothing good in it, but in the falsity of the objects of
its worship and -in the cruelty of the rites employed in that worship. In
the genera of the sciences there is only one species of religion, but that
one species has many varieties. In this sense Calvin is correct if, in
speaking of the"immense welter of errors " in which the whole world outside
of Christianity is immersed,"he regards his own religion as the true one and
all the others were false." The function of a comparative study of religions
is to point out the connecting line of truth running through the mass of
error. Back of all the cruelty and error and falsity in polytheism lie the
proper sense of need, the natural feeling of helplessness in the great
emergencies of life, and the commendable desire to honor the Being known
under different names as Jehovah, Moloch, Jupiter, Allah, Budh, Brahm, Odin,
or Anyambe; to which Being His children all over the world looked up as the
All-Father. But the descensus Averni from the One living and true God soon
multiplied gods, dividing among many the attributes that had been centred in
the One, and finally carried man's religious thoughtso far from God that
only His name was retained, while the trust which had belonged to Him alone
was scattered over a multitude of objects thatwere not even dignified with
the name "gods." Worship of ancestors was established. Great human
benefactors, heroic human beings, were deified and canonized. The whole air
of the world became peopled with spiritual influences; literally"stocks and
stones " became animated with demons of varying power and disposition; and
fetichism erected itself as a kind of religion.
I see nothing to justify the theory of Menzies[1] that primitive man or the
untutored African of to-day, in worshipping a tree, a snake, or an idol,
originally worshipped those very objects themselves, and that the suggestion
that they represented, or were even the dwelling-place of, some spiritual
Being is an after-thought up to which he has grown in the lapse of the ages.
The rather I see every reason to believe that the thought of the Being or
Beings as an object of worship has come down by tradition and from direct
original revelation of Jehovah Himself. The assumption of a visible,
tangible object to represent or personify that Being is the after-thought
that human ingenuity has added. The civilized Romanist claims that he does
not worship the actual sign of the cross, but the Christ who was crucified
on it; similarly, the Dahondan, in his worship of a snake.
Rev. J. L. Wilson, D.D.,[2] says of the condition of Dahomy fifty years ago,
that in Africa "there is no place where there is more intense heathenism;
and to mention no other feature in their superstitious practices, the
worship of snakes at this place [Whydah] fully illustrates this remark. A
house in the middle of the town is provided for the exclusive use of these
reptiles, and they may be seen here at any time in very great numbers. They
are fed, wid more care is taken of them than of the human inhabitants of the
place. If they are seen straying away, they must be brought back; and at the
sight of them the people prootrate themselves on the
[1 History of Religion, pp. 129 et seq.
2 Western Africa, p. 207.]
ground and do them all possible reverence. To kill or injure one of them is
to incur the penalty of death. On certain occasions they are taken out by
the priests or doctors, and paraded about the streets, the bearers allowing
them to coil themselves around their arms, necks, and bodies. They are also
employed to detect persons who have been guilty of witchcraft. If, in the
hands of the priest, they bite the suspected person, it is sure evidence of
his guilt; and no doubt the serpent is trained to do the will of his keeper
in all such cases. Images, usually called 'gregrees,' of the most uncouth
shape and form, may be seen in all parts of the town, and are worshipped by
all classes of persons. Perhaps there is no place in Africa where idolatry
is more openly practised, or where the people have sunk into deeper pagan
darkness."
Also, of the people on the southwest coast at Loango:
"The people of Loango are more addicted to idol worship than any other
people on the whole coast. They have a great many carved images which they
set up in their fetich houses and in their private dwellings, and which they
worship; but whether these images represent their forefathers, as is the
case among the Mpongwe (at Gabun), is not certainly known." [1]
Having thus followed the religious thought of mankind in its divagation from
monotheistic worship of the true God, down through polytheism and idolatrous
sacrifices, to the worship of ancestors, we have reached a third stage,
where the worship of God is not only divided between Him and other objects,
but, a step beyond, God Himself is quietly disregarded, and the worship due
Him is transferred to a multitude of spiritual agencies under His power, but
uncontrolled by it.
The details of this stage in the religious worship known as fetichism will
be considered in the following chapters.
[1. Wilson.]
CHAPTER IV
SPIRITUAL BEINGS IN AFRICAN RELIGION
THE belief in spiritual beings opens an immense vista of the purely
superstitious side of the theology of Bantu African religion.
All the air and the future is peopled with a large and indefinite company of
these beings. The attitude of the Creator (Anyambe) toward the human race
and the lower animals being that of indifference or of positive severity in
having allowed evils to exist, and His indifference making Him almost
inexorable, cause effort in the line of worship to be therefore directed
only to those spirits who, though they are all probably malevolent, may be
influenced and made benevolent.
I. ORIGIN.
The native thought in regard to the origin of spirits is vague; necessarily
so. An unwritten belief that is not based upon revelation from a superior
source nor on an induction from actual experience and observation, but that
is added to and varied by every individual's fancy, can be expressed in
definite words only after inquiry among many as to their ideas on the
subject. These, I find, coincide on a few lines; just as the consensus of
opinion on any subject in any community win find itself running in certain
channels, influenced by the utterances of the stronger or wiser leaders.
1. It appears, therefore, that some of the spirits seem to have been
conterminous with the life of Paia-Njambi in the eternities. An eternity
past, impossible as it is for any one to comprehend, is yet a thing
thinkable even with the Bantu African, for be has words to express it,
"peke-na-jome," ever-and-beyond, "tamba-na-ngama," unknown-and-secret.
Away back in that unknown time existed Paia-Njambi. Whence or how, is not
asked by the natives; nor have I had any attempt even of a reply to my own
inquiries. He simply existed. They are not sufficiently absurd to say that
He created Himself. To do that He would need to antedate Himself. I have met
none who thought sufficiently on the subject to worry their minds, as we in
our civilization often do, in effort to go back and back to the unthinkable
point in time past when God was not. Indeed so little is the native mind in
the habit of any such research that I can readily perceive how their "We
don't know" could easily be misunderstood by a foreign traveller, scientist,
or even missionary, as a confession that "they did not know God," -a
statement which is true, but not the equivalent of, or synonymous with, that
traveller's assertion that the native had no idea of a God. The native
thought, wiser than ours, simply and unreasoningly says, "He is, He was."
Conterminous with Him in origin there may have been some other spirits. This
has been said to me by a very few persons with some hesitation. But if those
spirits were indeed equal in existence with Njambi, they were in no respect
equal to Him in character or power, and had no hand in the creation of other
beings. In the Mpongwe tribe at Gabun one writer, Rev. J. L. Wilson, D.D.,
fifty years ago, thought the belief existed that "next to God in the
government of the world are two spirits, one of whom, Onyambe, is hateful
and wicked. The people seldom speak of Onyambe, and always evince
displeasure when the name is mentioned in their presence. His influence over
the affairs of men, in their estimation, does not amount to much; and the
probability is that they have no very definite notions about the real
character of this spirit." His character would be indicated by his name, O-
nya-mbe (He-who-is-bad). This name has sometimes been used by missionaries
to translate our word "devil." Perhaps the idea of the word itself came from
long-ago contact of this coast tribe with foreigners.
2. A second and more recognized source of supply to the company of spirits
is original creation by Njambi. While this origin is named by some, I have
not found it believed in to any very great extent. Even those whom I did
find believing it had very vague ideas as to the mode or object of their
creation. Of the Creation of mankind, and even of the Fall, almost all of
the tribes have legends, more or less distinct, and with a modicum of truth,
doubtless derived from traditions coinciding with the Mosaic history; but of
a previous creation of purely spiritual beings I have found no legend nor
well-defined story. If such specially created spirits exist at all, their
relation to Njambi is of a very shadowy kind; they are, indeed, inferior to
Him, and are in theory under His government in the same sense that human
beings are. But Njambi, in His far-off indifference in actual practice, does
not interfere with or control them or their actions. They are part of the
motley inhabitants of "Njambi's Town," the place of the Great Unknown, as
also are all the other living beasts and beings of creation. They also have
their separate habitat, and pursue their own devices, generally malevolent,
with the children of men.
3. But the general consensus of opinion is that the world of spirits is
peopled by the souls of dead human beings. This presupposes a belief in a
future life, the existence of which in the native mind some travellers have
doubted. I have never met that doubt from the native himself. While I do not
impute to the travellers referred to any desire, in their efforts at
describing the low grade of intelligence or religious belief of certain
tribes, to misrepresent, I fully believe they were mistaken, their mistake
arising from misunderstanding. It is not probable that they met, in the
course of their few years, what I have not met with in a lifetime. It is
probable that natives had expressed to them a doubt, or even ignorance, of a
general resurrection, and may have said to them, as a few have said to me, "
No, we do not live again; we are like goats and dogs and chickens, - when we
die that is the end of us." Such a statement is indeed a denial of the
resurrection of the body, but it is not a denial of a continued existence of
the soul in another life. The very people who made the above declaration to
me preserved their family fetich, made sacrifices to the spirits of their
ancestors, and appealed to them for aid in their family undertakings. The
few who have expressed a belief in transmigration did not consider that the
residence of a human spirit in the body of a beast was a permanent state; it
was a temporary condition, assumed by the spirit voluntarily for its own
pleasure or convenience, and terminable at its own will, precisely as human
spirits during their mortal life are, everywhere and by all, believed
capable of temporarily deserting their own human body and controlling the
actions of a beast. This belief in transmigration, though not general, has
been found among individuals in almost all tribes.
It being thus generally accepted that all departed human souls become
spirits of that future that is all around us, there is still a difference in
the testimony of intelligent witnesses as to who and what, or even how many,
of these souls are in one human being. (1) Ordinarily, the native will say
in effect, "I am one, and my soul is also myself. When I die, it goes out
somewhere else." (2) Others will say, "I have two things, - one is the thing
that becomes a spirit when I die, the other is the spirit of the body and
dies with it." (This "other" may be only a personification of what we
specify as the animal life.) But it has frequently occurred that even
intelligent natives, standing by me at the side of a dying person, have said
to me, "He is dead." The patient was indeed unconscious, lying stiff, not
seeing, speaking, eating, or apparently feeling; yet there was a slight
heartbeat. I would point out to the relatives these evidences of life. But
they said: "No, he is dead. His spirit is gone, he does not see nor hear nor
feel; that slight movement is only the spirit of the body shaking itself. It
is not a person, it is not our relative; he is dead." And they began to
prepare the body for burial. A man actually came to me on Corisco Island, in
1863, asking me for medicine with which to kill or quiet the body-spirit of
his mother, whose motions were troubling him by preventing the funeral
arrangements. I was shocked at what I thought his attempt at matricide, but
subsequently found that he really did believe that his mother was dead and
her real soul gone.
Such attempt to distinguish between soul-life and body-life has not
infrequently led to premature burial. The supposed corpse has sometimes
risen to consciousness on the way to the grave. A long-protracted sickness
of some not very valuable member of the village has wearied the attendants;
they decide that the body, though mumbling inarticulate words and aimlessly
fingering with its arms, is no longer occupied by its personal soul; that
has emerged. "He is dead"; and they proceed to bury him alive. Yet they deny
that they have done so. They insist that he was not alive; only his body was
"moving." Proof of premature burial has been found by discoveries made in
the practice of a custom which is observed when a village has been afflicted
with various troubles after the death of one of its members. The villagers,
after ineffectual efforts to drive away the evil influences that are
supposed to cause these troubles, decide that the spirit of some dead
relative is dissatisfied about something, and order the grave to be opened
and the bones rearranged or even thrown into the river or sea. On opening
the grave, corpses that had been buried in a recumbent position have been
found in a sitting position. It is possible for one thus prematurely buried
to change posture in a dying struggle; for, mostly, heathen graves are
shallow, and are hastily and not always completely filled in.
(3) Another set of witnesses will say that, besides the personal soul and
the soul of the body, there is a third entity in the human unit, namely, a
drearn-soul. That it is which leaves the body on occasions during . sleep,
and, wandering off, delights itself by visiting strange lands and strange
scenes. On its return to the body its union with the material blunts its
perceptions, and the person, in his efforts to remember or tell what be has
seen, relates only the vagaries of a dream, -a psychological view which,
under the manipulation of a ready pen, could give play to fantasies pretty,
romantic, not unreasonable, and not impossible.
Some who are only dualists, nevertheless, believe in the wanderings of this
so-called dream-soul, but say that it is the personal soul itself that has
gone out and has returned. Both dualists and trinitarians add that sometimes
in its wanderings this soul loses its way and cannot find its body, its
material home; should it never return, the person will sicken and die.
(4) A fourth entity is vaguely spoken of by some as a component part of the
human personality, by others as separate but closely associated from birth
to death, and called the life-spirit. Some speak of it as a civilized person
speaks of a guardian angel. Regarded in that light, it should not be
considered as one of the several kinds of souls, but as one of the various
classes of spirits (which will be discussed in a subsequent chapter). To it
worship is rendered by its possessor as to other spirits, - a worship,
however, different from that which is performed for what are known and used
as "familiar spirits." Others speak of the vague life-spirit as the "heart."
The organ of our anatomy which we designate by that name, they call by a
word which variously means "heart" or "feelings," much like our old English
"bowels," the same word being employed equally to designate a physical organ
and a mental state. Considering the organic heart as the seat (or a seat) of
life, the natives believe that by witchcraft a person in bealth can be
deprived of his life-soul, or "heart"; that he will then sicken; that the
wizard or witch feasts in his or her magic orgy on this "heart," and that
the person will die if that heart is not returned to him.
II. NUMBER.
But whatever this human soul may be, whether existing in unity, duality,
trinity, or quadruplicity, all agree in believing that it adds itself, on
the death of the body, as another to the multitudinous company of the
spirit-world. That world is all around us, and does not differ much in its
wants and characteristics from this earthly life, except that it is free
from some of the limitations to which material bodies are subject. In that
spirit-world they require the same food as when on earth, but consume only
its essence; the visible substance remains. They are possessed of all their
human passions, both bad and good. Men expect to have their wives with them
in that future, but I have never beard the idea even named, that there is
procreation by spirits in that after-world. Not having believed during this
life in a system of reward and punishment, they have no belief in heaven or
hell. All the dead go to Njambi's Town, and live in that new life together,
good and bad, as they lived together on earth. The "hell" spoken of by some
of my informants, I believe, is not a native thought; it was probably
engrafted on the coast tribes by the Portuguese Roman Catholic missionaries
of three hundred years ago.
If therefore the spirits consist almost entirely of the souls of departed
human beings, how immense their number! Equal in number with all the dead
that have passed from this life in the ages gone by, excepting those who
have gone permanently into the bodies of new human beings. That form of
metempsychosis is believed in. Occasional instances of belief of
transmigration into the body of a lower animal do not necessarily include
the idea of a permanent residence there, or that the departed soul has lost
its personality as a human being and has become the soul of a beast.
But the idea of reappearance in the body of a newly born child was formerly
believed in, especially in regard to white people. Thirty years ago I wrote:
[1] "Down the swift current of the Benita, as of other rivers on the coast,
are swept floating islands of interlaced rushes, tangled vines, and
waterlilies that, clinging to some projecting log from the marshy bank, had
gathered the sand and mud of successive freshets,
[1. Crowned in Palmland, p. 234.]
and gave a precarious footing for the pandanus, whose wiry roots bound all
in one compact mass. Then some flood had torn that mass away, and the
pandanus still waving its long, bayonet-like leaves, convolvuli still
climbing and blooming, and birds still nesting trustfully, the floating
island glided past native eyes down the stream, out over the bar, and on
toward the horizon of broad ocean. What beyond? Native superstition said
that at the bottom of the 'great sea' was 'whiteman's land'; that thither
some of their own departed friends found their happy future, exchanging a
dusky skin for a white one; that there white man's magic skill at will
created the beads, and cloth, and endless wealth that came from that unknown
land in ships, in whose masts and rigging and sails were recognized the
transformed trees and vines and leaves of those floating islands. When on
the 12th of July, 1866, a few with bated breath came to look on my little
new-born Paull, the only white child most of the community had seen, and the
first born in that Benita region, the old people said, 'Now our hopes are
dead. Dying, we had hoped to become like you; but verily ye are born as
we.'"
Not long after I had arrived at Corisco Island in 1861 I observed among the
many people who came to see the new missionary one man who quietly and
unobtrusively but very steadily was gazing at me. After a while he mustered
courage and addressed me: "Are you not my brother, -my brother who died at
such a time, and went to White Man's Land?" I was at that time new to the
superstitions of the country; his meaning had to be explained to me. His
thought of relationship was not an impossible one, for many of the Bantu
Negroes have somewhat Caucasian-like features. I have often seen men and
women at the sigbt of whom I was surprised, and I would remark to a fellow-
missionary: "How much this person reminds me of So-and-so in America!" This
recognition of resemblance of features to white persons living in America
was the third step in my acquaintance with native faces. At first, all Negro
faces looked alike. Presently I learned differences; and when I had reached
the third step, I felt that my acquaintance with African features was
complete.
III. LOCALITY.
The locality of these spirits is not only vaguely in the surrounding air;
they are also localized in prominent natural objects, - eaves, enormous
rocks, hollow trees, dark forests, -in this respect reminding one of classic
fauns and dryads. While all have the ability to move from place to place,
some especially belong to certain localities which are spoken of as having,
as the case might be, "good" or "bad" spirits. It is possible for a human
soul (as already mentioned in this chapter) to inhabit the body of a beast.
A man whose plantation was being devastated near Benita by an elephant told
me, in 1867, he did not dare to shoot it, because the spirit of his lately
deceased father bad passed into it. Also a common objurgation of an
obstreperous child or animal is, "O na nyemba!" (Thou hast a witch.)
Their habitats may be either natural or acquired. Natural ones are, for the
spirits of the dead, in a very special sense, the villages where they had
dwelt during the lifetime of the body; but the presence of the spirits of
the dead is not desired. It is one of the pitiable effects of African
superstition that its subjects look with fear and dread on what the denizens
of civilization look with love and tender regret. We in our Christian
civilization cling to the lifeless forms of our dead; and when necessity
compels us to bury them from our sight, we bid memory call up every
lineament of face and tone of voice, and are pleased to think that sometimes
they are near us. But it is a frequent native practice that on the occasion
of a death, even while a portion of the family are wailing and to all
appearances passionately mourning the loss of their relative, others are
firing guns, blowing trumpets, beating drums, shouting and yelling, in order
to drive away from the village the retently disembodied spirit. On
consideration, it can be seen that these two diverse demonstrations are
sincere, consistent, and, to the natives, reasonable. With natural affection
they mourn the absence of a tangible person who, as a member of their
family, was helpful and even kind; while they fear the independent existence
of the invisible thing, whose union with the physical body they fail to
recognize as having been a factor in that helpfulness and kindness. This
departed spirit, joining the company of other departed spirits, will indeed
become an object of worship, -a worship of principally a deprecatory nature;
but its continued presence and immediate contact with its former routine are
not desired. In Mashonaland the native fears death by accident or human
enmity. "But a greater dread than this is of a visitation of evil by the
spirit of a departed friend or relative whom be may have slighted while
living."
A village in Nazareth Bay, the embouchure of one of the mouths of the Ogowe
River, is called "Abun-awiri" ("awiri," plural of "ombwiri," a certain class
of spirits, and "abuna," abundance).
Large, prominent trees are inhabited by spirits. Many trees in the
equatorial West African forest throw out from their trunks, at from ten to
sixteen feet from the ground, solid buttresses continuous with the body of
the tree itself, only a few inches in thickness, but in width at the base of
the tree from four to six feet. These buttresses are projected toward
several opposite points of the compass, as if to resist the force of sudden
wind-storms. They are a noticeable forest feature and are commonly seen in
the silk-cotton trees. The recesses between them are actually used as lairs
by small wild animals. They are supposedly also a favorite home of the
spirits.
Caverns and large rocks have their special spirit inhabitants. At Gabun, and
also on Corisco Island, geological breaks in the horizontal strata of rock
were filled by narrow vertical strata of limestone, between which water
action has worn away the softer rock, leaving the limestone walls isolated,
with a narrow ravine between them. These ravines were formerly reverenced as
the abodes of spirits.
When I made a tour in 1882, surveying for a. second Ogowe Station, I came
some seventy miles up river from my well-established first station, Kingwe,
at Lambarene, to an enormous rock, a granite boulder, lying in the bed of
the river. The adjacent hillsides on either bank of the river were almost
impassable, being covered with boulders of all sizes, and a heavy forest
growing in among and even on them. This great rock had evidently in the long
past become detached by torrential streams that scored the mountainside in
the heavy rainy season and had plunged to its present position. The swift
river current swirled and dashed against the huge obstruction to navigation,
making the ascent of the river at that point particularly difficult.
Superstition suggested that the spirits of the rock did not wish boats or
canoes to pass their abode. Nevertheless, necessities of trade compelled;
and crews in passing made an ejaculatory prayer, or doffed their bead
coverings, in respect, but with the fear that the "ascent" in that part of
the journey might be for "woe," whence they called the rock "Itala-ja-
maguga," which, contracted to "Talagua," I gave as a name to my new station,
erected in 1882 in the vicinity of the rock. During my eight subsequent
years at the station I did, indeed, meet with some "woe," but also much
weal. And the missionary work of Talaguga, carried on since 1892 by the
hands of the Société Évangelique de Paris, has met with signal success.
Capes, promontories, and other prominent points of land are favorite
dwelling-places of the spirits. The Ogowe River, some one hundred and forty
miles from its mouth, receives on its left bank a large affluent, the
Ngunye, coming from the south. The low point of land at the junction of the
two rivers was sacred. The riverine tribes themselves would pass it in
canoes, respectfully removing their bead coverings; but passage was
forbidden to coast tribes and other foreigners. Portuguese slave-traders
might come to the point; but, stopping there, they could trade beyond only
through the bands of the local tribe (evidently superstition had been
invoked to protect a trade monopoly). A certain trader, Mr. R. B. N. Walker,
agent for the English firm of Hatton & Cookson, headquarters at Libreville,
Gabun, in extending his commercial interests some forty years ago, made an
overland journey from the Gabun River, emerging on the Ogowe, on its right
bank, above that sacred point. Ranoke, chief of the Inenga tribe, a few
miles below, seized him, his porters, and his goods, and kept them prisoners
for several months. Mr. Walker succeeded in bribing a native to carry a
letter to the French Commandant at Libreville, who was pleased to send a
gunboat to the rescue. Incidentally it furnished a good opportunity to
demonstrate France's somewhat shadowy claim to the Ogowe. After the rescue a
company from the gunboat proceeded to the Point and lunched there, thus
effectually desecrating it. Mr. Walker made peace with his late captor, and
established a trading-station at the Inenga village, Lambarene. For years
afterward, natives still looked upon that Point with respect. My own crew in
1874 sometimes doffed their hats; but before I left the Ogowe in 1891, a
younger generation had grown up that was willing to camp and eat and sleep
there with me, on my boat journeys.
Graveyards, of course, are homes of spirits, and therefore are much dreaded.
The tribes, especially of the interior, differ very much as to burial
customs. Some bury only their chiefs and other prominent men, casting away
corpses of slaves or of the poor into the rivers, or out on the open ground,
perhaps covering them with a bundle of sticks; even when graves are dug they
are shallow. Some tribes fearlessly bury their dead under the clay floors of
their houses, or a few yards distant in the kitchen-garden generally
adjoining. But, by most tribes who do bury at all, there are chosen as
cemeteries dark, tangled stretches of forest, along river banks on ground
that is apt to be inundated or whose soil is not good for plantation
purposes. I bad often observed, in my earlier African years, such stretches
of forest along the river, and wondered why the people did not use them for
cultivation, being conveniently near to some village, while they would go a
much longer distance to make their plantations. The explanation was that
these were graveyards. Such stretches would extend sometimes for a mile or
two. Often my hungry meal hour on a journey happened to coincide with our
passing just such a piece of forest, and the crew would refuse to stop,
keeping themselves and myself hungry till we could arrive at more open
forest.
In Eastern Africa it is believed that "the dead in their turn become spirits
under the all-embracing name of Musimo. The Wanyamwezi hold their Musimo in
great dread and veneration, as well as the house, but, or place where their
body has died." [1]
Beyond the regularly recognized habitats of the spirits that may be called
"natural" to them, any other location may be acquired by them temporarily,
for longer or shorter periods, under the power of the incantations of the
native doctor (uganga). By his magic arts any spirit may be localized in any
object whatever, however small or insignificant; and, while thus limited, is
under the control of the doctor and subservient to the wishes of the
possessor or wearer of the material object in which it is thus confined.
This constitutes a "fetich," which will be more fully discussed in another
chapter.
IV. CHARACTERISTICS.
The characteristics of these spirits are much the same as those they
possessed before they were disembodied. They have most of the evil human
passions, e.g., anger and revenge, and therefore may be malevolent. But they
possess also the good feelings of generosity and gratitude; they are
therefore within reach of influence, and may be benevolent. Their possible
malevolence is to be deprecated, their anger placated, their aid enlisted.
Illustration of malevolence in their character has already been seen in the
dread connected with deaths and funerals. The similar dread of graveyards in
our civilized countries may rest on the fear inspired by what is mysterious
or by those who have passed to the unknown, simply because it and they are
unknown. But, to superstitious Africa, that unknown is a certainty, in that
it is a source of evil; the spirit of the departed has all the capacity for
evil it possessed while embodied, with the additional capacity that its
exemption from some of the limitations of time and space increases its
facilities for action. Being unseen, it can act at immensely greater
advantage for accomplishing a given purpose. Natives dying have gone into
the other world retaining an acute memory of some wrong inflicted on them by
fellow-villagers, and have openly said, "From that other world I will come
back and avenge myself on you!"
In any contest of a human being against these spirits of evil be knows
always that whatever influence he may obtain over them by the doctor's magic
add, or whatever limitations may thus be put on them, they can never, as in
the case of a human enerny, be killed. The spirits can never die.
Sometimes the word "dead" is used of a fetich amulet that has been inhabited
by a spirit conjured into it by a native doctor. The phrase does not mean
that its spirit is actually dead, but that it has fled from inside of the
fetich, and still lives elsewhere. Then the native doctor, to explain to his
patient or client the inefficacy of the charm, says that the cause of the
spirit's escape and flight is that the wearer has failed to observe all the
directions which bad been given, and the spirit was displeased. The dead
amulet is, nevertheless, available for sale to the curio-hunting foreigner.
CHAPTER V
SPIRITUAL BEINGS IN AFRICA-THEIR CLASSES AND FUNCTIONS
INEQUALITIES among the spirits themselves, though they are so great,
indicate no more than simple differentiations of character or work. Yet so
radical are these varieties, and so distinct the names applied to them, that
I am compelled to recognize a division into classes.
CLASSES AND FUNCTIONS.
1. Inina, or Ilina. A human embodied soul is spoken of and fully believed in
by all the tribes. It is known in the Mpongwe tribes of the Gabun country as
inina (plural, "anina"); in the adjacent Benga tribe, as "ilina" (plural,
"malina"); in the great interior Fang tribes, as "nsisim."
This animating soul, whether it be only one, or whether it appear in two,
three, or even four forms, is practically the same, that talks, hears, and
feels, that sometimes goes out of the body in a dream, and that exists as a
spirit after the death of the body. That it has its own especial materiality
seems to be indicated by the fact that in the Fang, Bakele, and other tribes
the same word "nsisim" means not only soul but also shadow. The shadow of a
tree or any other inanimate object and of the human body as cast by the sun
is "nsisim."
In my first explorations up the Ogowe River, in 1874, as in my village
preaching I necessarily and constantly spoke of our soul, its sins, its
capacity for suffering or happiness, and its relation to its divine Maker, I
was often at a loss how to make my thoughtless audience understand or
appreciate that the nsisim of which I was speaking was not the nsisim cast
by the sun as a darkish line on the ground near their bodies. Even to those
who understood me, it was not an impossible thought that that dark narrow
belt on the ground was in some way a part of, or a mode of manifestation of,
that other thing, the nsisim, which they admitted was the source of the
body's animation. So far defined was that thought with some of them that
they said it was a possible thing for a human being to have his nsisim
stolen or otherwise lost, and still exist in a diseased and dying state; in
which case his body would not cast a shadow. Von Chamisso's story of Peter
Schlemelil,"the man who lost his shadow," in actuality!
So few are the special activities by which to distinguish anina from other
classes of spirits, that I might doubt whether they should properly be
considered as distinct, were it not true that the anina are all of them
embodied spirits; none of them are of other origin. As disembodied spirits,
retaining memory of their former human relationships, they have an interest
in human affairs, and especially in the affairs of the family of which they
were lately members.
2. Ibambo (Mpongwe; plural,"abambo"). There are vague beings, "abambo,"
which may well be described by our word "ghosts." Where they come from is
not certainly known, or what locality they inhabit, except that they belong
to the world of spirits. Why they become visible is also unknown. They are
not called for, they are only occasionally worshipped; their epiphany is
dreaded, not reverenced.
"The term 'Abambo' is in the plural form, and may therefore be regarded as
forming a class of spirits instead of a single individual. They are the
spirits of dead men; but whether they are positively good or positively
evil, to be loved or to be hated, or to be courted or avoided, are points -
which no native of the country can answer satisfactorily. Abambo are the
spirits of the ancestors of the people of a tribe or race, as distinguished
from the spirits of strangers. These are the spirits with which men are
possessed, and there is no end to the ceremonies used to deliver them from
their power."[1]
The ibambo may appear anywhere and at any time and to anybody, but it has no
message. It rarely speaks. Its most common effect on human lives is to
frighten. It flits; it does not remain in one spot, to speak or to be spoken
to. Indistinctly seen, its appearances are reported as occurring mostly in
dark places, in shadows, in twilight, and on dark nights. The most common
apparitions are on lonely paths in the forest by night.
To all intents and purposes these abambo are what superstitious fears in our
civilization call "ghosts." The timid dweller in civilization can no more
tell us what that ghost is than can the ignorant African. It is as difficult
in the one case as in the other to argue against the unreal and unknown.
What the frightened eye or ear believes it saw or heard, it persists in
believing against all proof. Nor will ridicule make the belief less strongr.
However, the intelligent child in civilization, under the hand of a
judicious parent or other friend, and relying on love as in expounder, can
be led to understand by daylight, that the white bark of a tree trunk
shimmering in uncertain moonlight, or a white garment flapping in the wind,
or a white animal grazing in the meadow, was the ghost whose waving form had
scared him the night before. His superstition is not so ingrained by daily
exercise but that reason and love can divest him of it. But to the denizen
of Fetich-land superstition is religion; the night terror which he is sure
he saw is too real a thing in his life to be identified by day as only a
harmless white-barked tree or quartz rock.
3. A third class of spirits is represented by the name Ombwiri. The
"ombwiri" (Mpongwe; plural, "awiri") is certainly somewhat local, and in
this respect might be regarded as akin to the ancient fauns and dryads, with
a suggestion of alikeness to the spirits resident in the dense oak groves
and the massive stones of the Druid Circle. But the awiri are more than
dryads. They are not confined to their local
[1. J.L. Wilson]
rock, tree, bold promontory, or point of land, trespass on which by human
beings I they resent. The traveller must go by silently, or with some
cabalistic invocation, with bowed or bared head, and with some offering, -
anything, even a pebble. On the beach, as I bend to pass beneath an
enorinous tree fallen across the pathway, I observe the upper side of the
log covered with votive offerings, - pebbles, shells, leaves, etc.,- laid
there by travellers as they stooped to pass under. Such votive collections
may be seen on many spots along the forest paths, deposited there by the
natives as an invocation of a blessing on their journey.
"The derivation of the word 'Ombwiri' is not known. As it is used in the
plural as well as in the singular form, it no doubt represents a class or
family of spirits. He is regarded as a tutelar or guardian spirit. Almost
every man has his own ombwiri, for which he provides a small house near his
own. All the harm that he has escaped in this world, and all the good
secured, are ascribed to the kindly offices of this guardian spirit. Ombwiri
is also regarded as the author of everything in the world which is
marvellous or mysterious. Any remarkable feature in the physical aspect of
the country, any notable phenomenon in the heavens, or extraordinary events
in the affairs of men are ascribed to Ombwiri. His favorite places of abode
are the summits of high mountains, deep caverns, large rocks, and the base
of very large forest trees. And while the people attach no malignity to his
character, they carefully guard against all unnecessary familiarity in their
intercourse with him, and never pass a place where he is supposed to dwell
except in silence. He is the only one of all the spirits recognized by the
people that has no priesthood; his intercourse with men being direct and
immediate."[1]
These spirits are sometimes spoken of with the nkinda and olāgā (Mpongwe;
plural,"ilāgā"). They all come from the spirits of the dead. These several
names indicate a difference as to kind or class of spirit, and a difference
in the
[1. J. L. Wilson.]
work or functions they are called upon to exercise. The ilāgā are spirits of
strangers, and have come from a distance.
While the ombwiri is indeed feared, it is with a respectful reverence,
different from the dread of an ibambo. Ombwiri is fine and admirable in
aspect, but is very rarely seen; it is white, like a white person. Souls of
distinguished chiefs and other great men turn to awiri. The fear with which
the native regards massive rocks and large trees -the ombwiri homes -need
not be felt by white people, who are themselves considered awiri, without
its being clearly understood whether their bodies are inhabited by the
departed spirits of the Negro dead, or whether some came from other sources.
The awiri are generally favorably disposed, especially to their former human
relatives; but it is necessary to gratify them with religious services
constituting an ancestral worship. While some of them reside in great rocks
or trees, others dwell in rivers, lakes, and seas.
Awiri, if they love a person and desire to favor him or her, have the
special power to grant a gift desired by most Africans, viz., the birth of
children. The awiri live mostly in the region of their own former human
tribe. It is possible,.however, for them to go everywhere; but they usually
remain within their old tribal limits. If, however, a tribe should remove or
become extinct, their awiri would still remain in that region, and would
affiliate with the new people who might come to occupy the deserted village
sites.
Awiri have a period of inactivity, the cold dry season of four months (in
western Equatorial Afriea), May to September. At that time they become very
small, inactive, and almost lifeless (a condition of hibernation, soniewhat
like that of bears; or of inertia, -is when a snake casts its skin?).
4. There is another class of spirit,, called Sinkinda (singular, "nkinda"),
some of whom are the spirits of people who in the ordinary stations of life
were "common," or not distinguished for greatness or goodness. Others of
these sinkinda are of uncertain origin, perhaps demons whom Njambi had
created, but to whom He had never given bodily existence.
Almost all sinkinda are evilly disposed. They come to the villages on visits
to warm themselves by the kitchen fires or out of curiosity to see what is
going on, and sometimes, temporarily, to enter into the bodies of the
living, especially of their own family. The entrance of a nkinda into a
human body always sickens the person. It may enter any one, even a child. If
many of them enter a man's body, he becomes crazy.
Sometimes the nkinda, when asked who he is, says:"I am a spirit of a member
of your own family, and I have come to live with you. I am tired of living
in the forest with cold and hunger. I wish to stay with you."
Often when people are sick with fever or cold, the diagnosis is inade that
some nkinda has come on a visit. If it is of the same family as those whom
it is visiting, it comes and goes from time to time, to please itself; but
it is never, like an uvengwa, visible.
Sometimes these sinkinda are called "ivāvi " (sing."ovāvi," messenger). They
come from far and bring news, e.g., "An epidemic of disease is coming," or
"A ship is coming with wealth." Sometimes the news thus brought proves true.
(Is this our modern spiritualism? ) In such cases the coming of the nkinda
is regarded as a blessing, in that it warns the living of evil or brings
them wealth. The information is always carried by the mouth of some living
member of the family. If these sinkinda are asked by a non-possessed member
of the family,"Where do you live?" the reply is, "Nowhere in particular. But
at evenings we gather about your town, to see you and join in your dances
and songs. We see you, though you do not see, us."
5. Mondi. There are beings, "myondi" (Benga; singular, "mondi"), who are
agents in causing sickness or in either aiding or hindering human plans.
These spirits are much the same as those of the fourth class, except that in
power they seem to be more independent than other spirits. But they are not
always simply passive in the hands of the doctor; they are often active on
their own account, or at their own pleasure, generally to injure. They are
worshipped almost always in a deprecatory way. They often take violent
possession of human bodies; and for their expulsion it is that ilāgā,
sinkinda, and awiri are invoked. They are invoked especially at the new
moons, but also at other times, particularly in sickness. The native oganga
decides whether or no they be myondi that are afflicting the patient. When
the diagnosis has been made, and myondi declared to be present in the
patient's body, the indication is that they are to be exorcised.
A slight doubt must be admitted in regard to these myondi, whether they
really do constitute a distinct class, or whether any spirit of any class
may not become a myondi. The name in that case would be given them, not as a
class, but as producers of certain effects, at certain times and under
certain circumstances.
The powers and functions of the several classes of spirits do not seem to be
distinctly defined. Certainly they do not confine themselves either to their
recognized locality or to the usually understood function pertaining to
their class. These powers and functions shade into each other, or may be
assumed by members of almost any class, But it is clearly believed that
spirits, even of the same class, differ in power. Some are strong, others
are weak. They are limited as to the nature of their powers; no spirit can
do all things. A spirit's efficiency runs only on a certain line or lines.
All of them can be influenced and made subservient to human wishes by a
variety of incantations.
There are other names which, while they belong to spirits, apparently
indicate only peculiarities in spiritual manifestations, and not
representatives of a class.
1. There may enter into any animal's body (generally a leopard's) some
spirit, or, temporarily, even the soul of a living human being. The animal
then, guided by human intelligence and will, exercises its strength for the
purposes of the temporary human possessor. Many murders are said to be
committed in this way, after the manner of the mythical German wehr-wolf or
the French loup-garou,
This belief in denioniacal possession of a lower animal must not be
confounded with the equally believed transmigration of souls. The former is
widespread over at least a third of the African continent. In Mashona-land
"they believe that at times both living and dead persons can change
themselves into animals, either to execute some vengeance, or to procure
something they wish for; thus, a man will change himself into a hyena or a
lion to steal a sheep and make a good meal off it; into a serpent to avenge
himself on some enemy. At other times, if they see a serpent, it is one of
the Matotela tribe or slave tribe, which has thus transformed himself to
take some vengeance on the Barobse." [1]
2. Another manifestation is that of the uvengwa. It is claimed to be not
simply spiritual, but tangible. It is the self-resurrected spirit and body
of a dead human being. It is an object of dread, and is never worshipped in
any manner whatever. Why it appears is not known. Perhaps it shows itself
only in a restless, unquiet, or dissatisfied feeling. It is white in color,
but the body is variously changed from the likeness of the original human
body. Some say that it has only one eye, placed in the centre of the
forehead. Some say that its feet are webbed like an aquatic bird. It does
not speak; it only wanders, looking as if with curiosity.
My little cottage at Batanga is a mile and -a half from the three chief
dwellings of the station. One afternoon in 1902 went to the station, leaving
my cook and his wife in charge of the cottage. When I returned late at
night, he asserted that an uvengwa had come there. A few yards in front of
the door of the house is a mango tree with its very dense dark foliage. The
trunk is divided a few feet from the ground. The light from the open door
streamed into a part of the front yard, leaving the tree trunk in dark
shadow. The woman going out of the door had started back, screaming to her
husband that she saw an uvengwa standing in the crotch of the tree and
peering around one of the branches. The husband went to the door. He
asserted to me that he
[I Declč.]
also had seen the form. In their terror, neither of them made any
investigation. Possibly a chalk-whitened thief had taken advantage of my
absence to prowl about. But the two witnesses rejected such a suggestion;
they were sure it was a visitor from some grave.
3. Other spiritual manifestations are spoken of as the personal guardian-
spirit and the family guardian-spirit. These do not constitute a separate
class, but are the special modes of operation adopted by the ancestral
spirit or spirits in the protection of their family. Its description belongs
properly to a later chapter under the name of the Family Yākā fetich.
The manner of invocation of all these five classes of spirits, in the case
of obscure diseases, is very much the same now as what Dr. Wilson described
fifty years ago. What he saw on the Gabun River tallies with what I also saw
thirty years ago at Benita, and subsequently in the Ogowe. Even at Gabun, in
the present day, though the Mpongwe have been enlightened, the same
ceremonies are kept up by other tribes, the Shekani and Fang, who have
emerged on the coast at Libreville.
"Sick persons, and especially those that are afflicted with nervous
disorders, are supposed to be possessed by one or the other of these
spirits. If the disease assumes a serious form, the patient is taken to a
priest or a priestess, of either of these classes of spirits. Certain tests
are applied, and it is soon ascertained to which class the disease belongs,
and the patient is accordingly turned over to the proper priest. The
ceremonies in the different cases are not materially different; they are
alike, at least, in the employment of an almost endless round of absurd,
unmeaning, and disgusting ceremonies which none but a heathenish and
ignorant priesthood could invent, and none but a poor, ignorant, and
supenstitious people could ever tolerate.
"In either ease a temporary shanty is erected in the middle of the street
for the occupancy of the patient, the priest, and such persons as are to
take part in the ceremony of exorcism. The time employed in performing the
ceremonies is seldom less than ten or fifteen days. During this period
dancing, drumming, feasting, and drinking are kept up without intermission
day and night, and all at the expense of the nearest relative of the
invalid. The patient, if a female, is decked out in the most fantastic
costume; her face, bosom, arms, and legs are streaked with red and white
chalk, her head adorned with red feathers, and much of the time she
promenades the open space in front of the shanty with a sword in her hand,
which she brandishes in a very menacing way against the bystanders. At the
same time she assumes as much of the maniac in her looks, actions, gestures,
and walk as possible. In many cases this is all mere affectation, and no one
is deceived by it. But there are other cases where motions seem. involuntary
and entirely beyond the control of the person; and when you watch the wild
and unnatural stare, the convulsive movements of the limbs and body, the
unnatural posture into which the whole frame is occasionally thrown, the
gnashing of the teeth, and foaming at the mouth, and supernatural strength
that is put forth when any attempt is made at constraint, you are strongly
reminded of cases of real possession recorded in the New Testament.
"There is no reason to suppose that any real cures are effected by these
prolonged ceremonies. In certain nervous affections the excitement is kept
up until utter exhaustion takes place; and if the patient is kept quiet
afterwards (which is generally the case), she may be restored to better
health after a while; and, no matter how long it may be before she recovers
from this severe tax upon her nerves, the priest claims the credit of it. In
other cases the patient may not have been diseased at all, and, of course,
there was nothing to be recovered from.
"If it should be a case of undissembled siekness, and the patient become
worse by this unnatural treatment, she is removed, and the ceremonies are
suspended, and it is concluded that it was not a real possession, but
something else. The priests have certain tests by which it is known when the
patient is healed, and the whole transaction is wound up when the fees are
paid. In all cases of this kind it is impossible to say whether the devil
has really been cast out or merelya better understanding arrived at between
him and the person he has been tormenting. The individual is required to
build a little house or temple for the spirit near his own, to take
occasional offerings to him, and pay all due respect to his character, or to
be subject to renewed assaults at any time. Certain restrictions are imposed
upon the person who has recovered from these satanic influences. He must
refrain from certain kinds of food, avoid certain places of common resort,
and perform certain duties; and, for the neglect of any of these, is sure to
be severely scourged by a return of his malady. Like the Jews, in speaking
of the actions of these demoniaes, they are said to be done by the spirit,
and not by the person who is possessed. If the person performs any unnatural
or revolting act, -as the biting off of the head of a live chicken and
sucking its blood, - it is said that the spirit, not the man, has done it.
"But the views of the great mass of the people on these subjects are
exceedingly vague and indefinite. They attend these ceremonies on account of
the parade and excitement that usually accompany them, but they have no
knowledge of their origin, their true nature, or of their results. Many
submit to the ceremonies because they are persuaded to do so by their
friends, and, no doubt, in many cases in the hope of being freed from some
troublesome malady. But as to the meaning of the ceremonies themselves, or
the real influence which they exert upon their bodily diseases, they
probably have many doubts, and when called upon to give explanation of the
process which they have passed through, they show that they have none but
the most confused ideas."[1]
[1. Wilson, Western Africa.]
CHAPTER VI
FETICHISM - ITS PHILOSOPHY - A PHYSICAL SALVATION - CHARMS AND AMULETS
EVEN during the while that man was still a monotheist, as seen in a previous
chapter, be had eventually come to the use of idols which he did not
actually worship, by the making of images simply to represent God; be had
not yet become an idolater.
Subsequently, in his farther lapse away from God, when he began to render
worship to beings other than God, fashioned images to represent them also,
and actually worshipped them, he became a polytheist and an idolater.
When he had wandered still farther, and God was no longer worshipped, the
knowledge of Him being reduced to a name, a multitude of spiritual beings
were substituted in place of God, and religion was only animism.
Farther on, when it seemed desirable to provide local residence for these
spirits, as had been done for God Himself in temples and costly images, the
material objects used for that residence were no longer matter of value and
choice; anything and any place was sufficient for a spirit's habitat.
Neither dignity, beauty, nor strength was any longer a factor in the
selection. For these objects did not represent the deities in any way
whatever. They were simply local residences. As such, a spirit could live
anywhere and in anything. This is bald fetichism. The thing itself, the
material itself, is not worshipped. The fetich worshipper makes a clear
distinction between the reverence with which he regards a certain material
object and the worship he renders to the spirit for the time being
inhabiting it. For this reason nothing is too mean or too small or too
ridiculous to be considered fit for a spirit's locum tenens; for when for
any reason the spirit is supposed to have gone out of that thing and
definitely abandoned it, the thing itself is no longer reverenced, and is
thrown away as useless.
The selection of the article in which the spirit is to reside is made by the
native"uganga " (doctor), who to the Negro stands in the office of a priest.
The ground of selection is generally that of mere convenience. The ability
to conjure a free wandering spirit into the narrow limits of a small
material object, and to compel and subordinate its power to the aid of some
designated person or persons and for a specific purpose, rests with that
uganga.
Over the wide range of many articles used in which to confine spirits,
common and favorite things are the skins and especially the tails of bush-
cats, horns of antelopes, nut-shells, snail-shells, bones of any animal, but
especially human bones; and among the bones are specially regarded portions
of skulls of human beings and teeth and claws of leopards. But, literally,
anything may be chosen, -any stick, any stone, any rag of cloth. Apparently,
there being no limit to the number of spirits, there is literally no limit
to the number and character of the articles in which they may be localized.
It is not true, as is asserted by some in regard to these African tribes and
their degraded form of religion, that they worship the actual material
objects in which the spirits are supposed to be confined. Low as is
fetichism, it nevertheless has its philosophy, a philosophy that is the same
in kind as that of the higher forms of religion. A similar sense of need
that sends the Christian to his knees before God to ask aid in time of
trouble, and salvation temporal and spiritual, sends the fetich worshipper
to offer his sacrifice and to ejaculate his prayer for help as he lays hold
of his consecrated antelope horn, or as he looks on it with abiding trust
while it is safely tied to his body. His human necessity drives him to seek
assistance.
The difference between his act -and the act of the Christian lies in the
kind of salvation he seeks, the being to whom he appeals, and the reason for
his appealing. The reason for his appeal is simply fear; there is no
confession, no love, rarely thanksgiving.
The being to whom he appeals is not God. True, he does not deny that He is;
if asked, he will acknowledge His existence. But that is all. Very rarely
and only in extreme emergencies, does he make an appeal to Him; for he
thinks God so far off, so inaccessible, so indifferent to human woes and
wants, that a petition to Him would be almost in vain. He therefore turns to
some one of the mass of spirits which he believes to be ever near and
observant of human affairs, in which, as former human beings, some of them
once had part.
As to the character of the salvation sought, it is not spiritual; it is a
purely physical salvation. A sense of moral and spiritual need is lost sight
of, although not eliminated. This is an index of the distance the Negro has
travelled away from Jehovah before he finally reached the position of
placing his trust in a fetich. By just so much as he seems to himself living
in a world crowded with unseen but powerful spiritual beings (with whom what
a Christian calls "sin" has no reprehensible moral quality), by just so much
he seems to have lost sight of his own soul and its moral necessities.
The future is so vague that in the thought of most tribes it contains
neither heaven nor hell; there is no certain reward or rest for goodness,
nor positive punishment for badness. The future life is to each native
largely a reproduction, on shadowy and intangible lines, of the works and
interests and passions of this earthly life. In his present life, with its
savagery and oppression and dominance of selfish greed and right of might,
goodness has no reward. It is badness which in his personal experience makes
the largest gains. From this point of view, while some acts are indeed
called "good" and some "bad" (conscience proving its simple existence by the
use of these words in the record of language), yet conscience is not much
troubled by its possessor's badness. There is little sense of the sinfulness
of sin. There is only fear of possible human injury by human or subsidized
spiritual enemies. This is all the salvation that is sought.
It is sought by prayer; by sacrifice, and by certain other ceremonies
rendered to the spirit of the fetich or to other non-localized spirits; and
by the use of charms or amulets.
These charms may be vocal, ritual, or material.
(1) The vocal are the utterance of cabalistic words deprecatory of evil or
supplicatory of favor, which are supposed in a vague way to have power over
the local spirits. These words or phrases, though sometimes coined by a
person for himself or herself (and therefore like our slang having a known
meaning), are often archaisms, handed down from ancestors and believed to
possess efficiency, but whose meaning is forgotten. In this list would be
included long incantations by the magic doctors and the Ibātā-blown
blessing.
(2) Certain rites or ceremonies are performed for almost every child- at
some time during his or her infancy or youth, or subsequently as occasion
may demand, in which a prohibition is laid upon the child in regard to the
eating of some particular article of food or the doing of some special act.
It is difficult to get at the exact object for this "orunda." Certainly the
prohibited food or act is not in itself evil; for all but the inhibited
individual may eat of the food or commit the act as they please. Most
natives blindly follow the "custom" of their ancestors, and are unable to
give me the raison d'źtre of the rite itself. But I gather from the
testimony of those best able to give a reason that the prohibited article or
act is literally a sacrifice, ordained for the child by its parents and the,
magic doctor, as a gift to the governing spirit of its life. The thing
prohibited thus becomes removed from the child's common use and is made
sacred to the spirit. It is therefore a sacrament. Any use of it by the
child will thenceforth be a sacrilege which would draw down the spirit's
wrath in the form of sickness or other evil, and which can be atoned for
only through expensive ceremonies and by gifts to the magician interceding
for the offender.
Anything may be selected for an orunda. I do not know the ground for a
selection. Why one child, perhaps a babe too young to have eaten of the to-
be -prohibited thing, should be debarred forever from eating a chicken, or
the liver or any other particular part, or any portion at all, of a goat or
an ox: or any other animal, I do not know. But that orunda is thenceforth
faithfully complied with, even under pangs of hunger. It is like a
Nazarite's vow.
I have a strong suspicion that where the orunda laid on a woman is a matter
of meat, superstition has played into the hands of masculine selfishness,
and denies to women the choice meat in order that men may have the greater
share. My suspicion rests on almost positive evidence in the case of some
prohibitions to the women of the Bulu and other Fang tribes of the interior.
On a boat journey in the Ogowe River, about 1818, I camped on the edge of a
forest for the noon meal. My crew of four, members of the Galwa and Nkāmi
tribes, had no meat. They needed it, for they had rowed hard and well. For
myself, I had only a small chicken. I was satisfied with a portion of it,
and gave the rest to the crew. It would make at least a tasty morsel for
each, with their manioc bread. Three of them thanked me; the fourth did not
touch his share. I felt slightly vexed, thinking my favor was not
appreciated, and I asked the cause of his apparent sullenness. He said he
did not dare to eat of the fowl, as it was orunda to him.
On another journey, in 1876, a young man whom I had picked up as extra hand
in my boat's crew, when at the noon mealtime we stopped under the shade of a
spreading tree by the river's bank, instead of respectfully leaving me alone
with my lunch in the boat, and going ashore where the others were eating,
wanted to remain in the boat, his orunda being that when on a journey by
water his food should be eaten only over water.
Two Ogowe obiefs, near whose villages was anchored the small river steamer
"Pioneer," on which I was passenger, in 1875, came aboard, and in drinking a
glass of liquor with the captain, one of them held up a piece of white cloth
before his mouth, in order that strangers' eyes might not see him swallow.
That was his orunda, probably. Perhaps also, the hiding of his drinking'may
have bad refer. ence to the common fear of another's "evil eye."
The other, having taken a mouthful, wet his finger in his mouth, drew the
wet finger across his throat, and then blew on a fetich which he wore as a
ring on a finger of the other hand. I do not know the significance of his
motion across his throat. The blowing was the Ibātā-blessing, - an
ejaculatory prayer for a blessing on his plans, probably of trade.
This word "orunda," meaning thus originally prohibited from human use (like
the South Sea "taboo"), grew, under missionary bands, into its related
meaning of sacred to spiritual use. It is the word by which the Mpongwe
Scriptures translate our word "holy." I think it an unfortunate choice; for
the missionary has to stop and explain that orunda, as used for God, does
not mean the orunda used by mankind. In the translation of the Benga
Scriptures the word "holy" was transferred bodily, and we explain that it
means something better than good. To such straits are translators sometimes
reduced in the use of heathen languages!
(3) The charms that are most common are material, the fetich, - so common,
indeed, that by the universality of their use, and the prominence given to
them everywhere, in houses and on the person, they almost monopolize the
religious thought of the Bantu Negro, subordinating other acknowledged
points of his theology, dominating his almost entire religious interest, and
giving the departmental word " fetich " such overwhelming regard that it has
furnished the name distinctive of the native African religious system, viz.,
fetichism. "Fetich" is an English word of Portuguese origin. "It is derived
from feitico, 'made,' 'artificial' (compare the old English fetys, used by
Chaucer); and this term, used of the charms and amulets worn in the Roman
Catholic religion of the period, was applied, by the Portuguese sailors of
the eighteenth century, to the deities they saw worshipped by the Negroes of
the West Coast of Africa.
"De Brosses, a French savant of the last century, brought the word
'fetichism' into use as a term for the type of religion of the lowest races.
The word has given rise to some confusion, having been applied, by Comte and
other writers, to the worship of the heavenly bodies and of the great
features of Nature. It is best to limit it to the worship of such natural
objects as are reverenced, not for their own power or excellence, but
because they are supposed to be occupied each by a spirit."[1]
The native word on the Liberian coast is "gree-gree" in the Niger Delta,
"ju-ju"; in the Gabun country, "monda"; among the cannibal Fang, "biah"; and
in other tribes the same respective dialectic by which we translate
"medicine." To a sick native's thought the adjuvant medicinal herb used by
the doctor, and its associated efficiency-giving spirit invoked by that same
doctor, are inseparable. In the heathen Negro's soul the fetich takes the
place, and has the regard, which an idol has with the Hindu and the Chinese.
"A fetich, strictly speaking, is little else than a ebarm or amulet, worn
about the person, and set up at some convenient place, for the purpose of
guarding against some apprehended evil or securing some coveted good." In
the Anglo-African parlance of the Coast fetiches are called by various
names, but all signify the same thing. Fetiches may be made of anything of
vegetable, animal, or metallic nature "and need only to pass through the
consecrating hands of a native priest to receive all the supernatural powers
which they are supposed to possess. It is not always certain that they
possess extraordinary powers. They must be tried and give proof of their
efficiency before they can be implicitly trusted. " [2]
A fetich, then, is any material object consecrated by the "oganga," or magic
doctor, with a variety of ceremonies and
[1. Menzies, History of Religion, p. 33.
2. Wilson, Western Africa, p. 212.]
processes, by virtue of which some spirit becomes localized in that object,
and subject to the will of the possessor.
Anything that can be conveniently carried on the person may thus be
consecrated, - a stone, chip, rag, string, or bead. Articles most
firequently used are snail-shells, nut-shells, and small horns of gazelles
or goats. These are used probably because of their convenient cavities; for
they are to be filled by the oganga with a variety of substances depending,
in their selection, on the special work to be accomplished by the fetich.
Its value, however, depends not on itself, nor solely on the character of
these substances, but on the skill of the oganga in dealing with spirits.
There is a relation between these selected substances and the object to be
obtained by the fetich which is to be prepared of them, - for example, to
give the possessor bravery or strength, some part of a leopard or an
elephant; to give cunning, some part of a gazelle; to give wisdom, some part
of a human brain; to give courage, some part of a heart; to give influence,
some part of an eye; and so on for a multitude of qualities. These
substances are supposed to lure some spirit (being in some way pleasing to
it), which thenceforward is satisfied to reside in them and to aid the
possessor in the accomplishment of some one specific wish.
In preparing a fetich the oganga selects substances such as he deems
appropriate to the end in view, - the ashes of certain medicinal plants,
pieces of calcined bones, gums, spices, resins, and even filth, portions of
organs of the bodies of animals, and especially of human beings (preferably
eyes, brain, heart, and gall-bladder), particularly of ancestors, or men
strong or renowned in any way, and very especially of enemies and of white
men. Human eyeballs (particularly of a white person) are a great prize. New-
made graves have been rifled for them.
These are compounded in secret, with the accompaniment of drums, dancing,
invocations, looking into mirrors or limpid water to see faces (human or
spiritual, as may be desired), and are stuffed into the hollow of the shell
or bone, or smeared over the stick or stone.
If it be desired to obtain power over some one else, the oganga must be
given by the applicant, to be mixed in the sacred compound, either crumbs
from the food, or clippings of finger nails or hair, or (most powerful!)
even a drop of blood of the person over whom influence is sought. These
represent the life or body of that person. So fearful are natives of power
being thus obtained over them, that they have their hair cut only by a
friend; and even then they carefully bum it or cast it into a river. If one
accidentally cuts himself, he stamps out what blood has dropped on the
ground, or cuts out from wood the part saturated with blood.
Sitting one day by a village boat-landing in the Benita region, about 1866,
while my crew prepared for our journey, I was idly plucking at my beard, and
carelessly flung away a few hairs. Presently I observed that some children
gathered them up. Asking my Christian assistant what that meant, he told me:
"They will have a fetich made with those hairs; when next you visit this
village, they will ask you for some favor, and you will grant it, by the
power they will thus have obtained over you."
The water with which a lover's body (male or female) is washed, is used in
making a philter to be mingled secretly in the drink of the loved one.
While, as I have already stated, it is true that anything portable may be
used either as the receptacle in which the spirit is to be located or as the
substance or "medicine" to be inserted in it, I wish to insist that in the
philosophy of fetich there is always a reason in the selection of all these
articles,-a reason which it is often difficult for a foreigner to discover,
-an apparent fitness for the end in view.
Arnot I refers to this: "Africans believe largely in preventive measures,
and their fetich charms are chiefly of that order. In passing through a
country where leopards and lions abound,
[1. Garenganze, p. 237.]
they carefully provide themselves with the claws, teeth, lips, and whiskers
of those animals, and hang them around their necks, to secure themselves
against being attacked. For the same purpose the point of an elephant trunk
is generally worn by elephant hunters. The bones from the legs of tortoises
are much valued as anklets, in order to give the wearers endurance,
reminding one of the fable of the tortoise. The lower jaw-bone of the
tortoise is worn by certain tribes as a preventive against toothache. The
spine bones of serpents are strung together with a girdle as a cure for
back-ache."
A recent visitor to the Gabun country, in the "Journal of the African
Society," makes this criticism: "When a white man or woman wears some
trinket strung about them, they call it an amulet or charm. They ascribe to
it some virtue, and regard it as a sacred (?) thing; but when an African
native wears one, white men call it 'fetich,' and the wearer a savage or
heathen." This defence of the Negro is gratifying, but the criticism of the
white man, is not quite just. There is this radical difference: to the
African the "fetich" is his all, his entire hope for his physical salvation;
he does not reckon on God at all. The civilized man or woman with a "mascot"
is very foolish in his or her belief in luck, but their mascots never
entirely take God's place.
I met at Gabun about 1895 the same criticism from the mouth of a partly
educated Sierra Leone Negro, who, though a professing Christian, evidently
was wearing Christianity hypocritically. His well-educated Mpongwe wife was
a member of my church. It was discovered that she bad a certain fetich
suspended in her bedroom. It was necessary to summon her before the church
session; she explained that it was not hers, but her busband's, and
disclaimed belief in it. She was rebuked for allowing it in her room. The
husband, hearing of the rebuke, wrote me an angry letter justifying his
fetich. He said in substance:
You white people don't know anything about black man's 'fashions.' You say
you trust God for everything, but in your own country you put up-an iron rod
over your houses to protect yourselves from death by lightning; and you
trust in it the while that you still believe in God; and you call it
'electricity' and civilization. And you say it's all right. I call this
thing of mine - this charm -'medicine'; and I hung it over my wife's bed to
keep away death by the arts of those who hate her; and I trust in it while
still believing in God. And you think me a heathen! " It was explained to
him that in the use of the lightning-rod white men reverently recognized God
in His own natural forces, but that his fetich dishonored God, ignored Him,
and was a distinct recognition of a supposed power that was claimed to be
able to act independently of God; that I trusted to the lightning-rod under
God, while he trusted to his fetich outside of God.
For every human passion or desire of every part of our nature, for our
thousand necessities or wishes, a fetich can be made, its operation being
directed to the attainment of one specified wish, and limited in power only
by the possible existence of some more powerful antagonizing spirit.
This, hung on the plantation fence or from the branches of plants in the
garden, is either to prevent theft or to sicken the thief; hung over the
doorway of the house, to bar the entrance of evil; hung from the bow of the
canoe, to insure a successful voyage; worn on the arm in hunting, to assure
an accurate aim; worn on any part of one's person, to give success in
loving, hating, planting, fishing, buying, and so forth, through the whole
range of daily work and interests.
Some kinds, worn on a bracelet or necklace, are to ward off sickness. The
new-born infant has a health-knot tied about its neck, wrist, or loins. Down
to the day of oldest age, every one keeps on multiplying or renewing or
altering these life talismans.
If of the charge at Balaklava, it was said, "This is magnificent, but it is
not war," I may say of these heathen, "Such faith is magnificent, though it
be folly." The hunter going out, certain of success, returns empty-handed;
the warrior bearing on his breast a fetich panoply, which he is confident
will turn aside a bullet, comes back wounded; every one is some day foiled
in his cherished plan. Do they lose their faith? No, not in the system, -
their fetichism; but in the special material object of their faith - their
fetich - they do. Going to the oganga whom they had paid for concocting that
now disappointing amulet, they tell him of its failure. He readily replies:
"Yes, I know. You have an enemy who possesses a fetich containing a spirit
more powerful than yours, which made your bullet miss its mark, which caused
your opponent's spear to wound you. Yours is no longer of use; it's dead.
Come, pay me, and I will make you a charm containing a spirit still more
powerful."
The old fetich hitherto jealously guarded, and which would not have been
sold for any consideration, is now thrown away or sold to the foreign curio-
hunter.
A native heathen Akele chief, Kasa, my friend and host in the Ogowe, in
1874, showed me a string of shells, bones, borns, wild-cat tails, and so
forth, each with its magic compound, which be said could turn aside bullets.
In a friendly way he dared me to fire at him with my sixteen-repeater
Winchester rifle. I did not believe he meant it; but, on his taking his
stand a few paces distant, he did not quail under my steady aim, nor even at
the click of the trigger. I, of course, desisted, apparently worsted. Two
years later, Kasa was charged by an elephant he had wounded, and was pierced
by its tusks. His attendants drove off the beast; the fearfully lacerated
man survived long enough to accuse twelve of his women and other slaves of
having bewitched his gun, and thus causing it only to wound instead of
killing the elephant. On that charge four of the accused were put to death.
Both men and women may become aganga on voluntary choice, and after a course
of instruction by an oganga.
"There is generally a special person in a tribe who knows these things, and
is able to work them. He has more power over spirits, than other men have,
and is able to make them do what he likes. He can beal sickness, be can
foretell the future, he can change a thing into something else, or a man
into a lower animal, or a tree, or anything; he can also assume such
transformations himself at will. He uses means to bring about such results;
he knows about herbs, he has also recourse to rubbing, to making images of
affected parts of the body, and to various other arts. Very frequently he is
regarded as inspired. It is the spirit dwelling in him which brings about
the wonderful results; without the spirit be could not do anything."[1]
Though these magicians possess power, its joy has its limitations; for,
becoming possessed by a familiar spirit, through whose aid they make their
invocations and incantations and under whose influence they fall into
cataleptic trances or are thrilled with Delphic rages, if they should happen
to offend that "familiar," it may destroy them by "eating" out their life,
as their phrase is. On Corisco Island, in 1863, a certain man had acquired
prominence as a magic doctor; he finally died of consumption. His friends
began a witchcraft investigation to find out who had "killed" him. A post-
mortem being made, cavities were found in the lungs. Ignorant of disease,
they thereupon dropped the investigation, saying that his own "witch" had
"eaten" him.
Captain Guy Burrows, a British officer, formerly in the service of the Kongo
Free-State, left it unwilling to be a participant in the fearful atrocities
allowed by the King of Belgium; and he 'has recently made a scathing
exposure of the doings of Belgian agents that have made the Kongo a slave-
ground of worse horrors than existed in the old days of the export slave-
trade. He thus jocularly describes what he saw of fetich at the town of
Matadi on the Kongo, where there is an English Baptist Mission: "Outside the
small area, under the direct influence of the mission, there is but one
deity, - the fetich. The heathen in his blindness, in bowing down to wood
and stone, bows, as Kipling says, to 'wood for choice.' He carves a more or
less grotesque face; and the rest is a matter of taste. I came across one
figure
[1. Menzies, History of Religion, p. 73.]
whose principal ornament consisted of a profusion of tenpenny nails and a
large cowrie shell.[1] But anything will do; an old tin teapot is another
favorite fetich decoration. I have generally found that the uglier they are,
the more they seem to be feared and reverenced.
"The fetich is sometimes inclined to be a nuisance. On one occasion I wanted
to build an out-house at the far end of a plantation, where tools and other
implements might be stored. I was told by the chief, however, that this was
fetich ground, and that terrible misfortunes would follow any attempt to
build on it. I tried to get some closer idea of the fetich, but could get no
more material information than a recital of vague terrors of the kind that
frighten children at night. So I began building my out-house, during the
course of which operation some monkeys came and sat in the trees, highly
interested in the proceedings. In some indefinite way I gathered that the
fetich power was regarded as being invested in these monkeys, or that they
were the embodiment of the fetich idea, or anything else you please. But I
could not have my work interfered with by the ghosts of a lot of chattering
apes, and the fears of those big children the natives; so I witch-doctored
the monkeys after an improved recipe of my own-I shot the lot. Thereafter
the spell was supposed to be lifted, and no farther objections were raised;
but the empty cartridge cases were seized upon by the men as charms against
any further manifestations in the same place. I am glad to say none
occurred; the spell I had used was too potent!"
Captain Burrows was probably an efficient administrator. But, like many
foreigners, he evidently chose to ride, rough shod, over natives'
prejudices, regarding them as idle superstitions, and unable or unwilling to
investigate their philosophy. I see, however, from his story, that he had
gotten hold
[1. Those nails were not mere "ornaments." They were the records of the
number of persons who had been transfixed by death or disease under the
power of that fetich idol. A similar custom is known in the West Indies and
in the southern United States. For every pin stuck into a wax figure
intended to represent the person to be injured, some sickness or other evil
will fall on him. Wilkie Collins also utilized this superstition in his
novel, "I say, No." - R. H. N.]
of a part of the truth. That ground on which he desired to build was
probably an old graveyard. The native chief very naturally did not wish it
to be disturbed. Monkeys that gather on the trees in the vicinity of a
graveyard are supposed to be possessed by the spirits of those buried there.
An ordinary individual would have been forcibly prevented had he attempted
what Captain Burrows did. He had a foreign government at his back, and the
natives submitted. Their dead and their monkeys, sacred pro tempore, had
succumbed to the superior power of the white man's cartridges. Their only
satisfaction was to retain the empty shells as souvenirs.
CHAPTER VII
THE FETICH-A WORSHIP
WORSHIP is an eminent part of every form of religion, but it is not
essential to it. True, most religions have some form of worship. But a
belief would still be a religion, even if it were so insignificant or so
degraded or so indifferent as not to care to express itself in rites or
ceremonies.
Fetichism, whose claim to a right to be reckoned as a religion some have
been disposed to dispute, expresses itself by most of the visible and
audible means used in the cults of other forms of religion.
The motives also that prompt to the performance of religious rites are not
to enter into the question whether the beliefs associated with them are
worthy to be dignified by the name "religion." Motives may vary widely,
e.g., love in an evangelical Christian, pride in a Pharisee, sensual lust in
a follower of Islam and in a Mormon, and fear in the fetich worshipper.
Those motives, mixed perhaps with other considerations, are the dominant
factor in the government of the religious life of each.
We have already seen in the previous chapter that the religious thought of
the believer in fetichism does not concern his soul or its future. The evils
he would escape are not moral or spiritual. The sense of a great need that
makes him look for help outside of himself is not based on a desire to obey
God's will, but on his and some spirit's co-relation to the great needs of
this mortal life.
The salvation sought being a purely physical one, tho thoughts that direct
the use of means to that end are limited to physical needs, and largely to
physical agencies. But not entirely: for one of these agencies, as already
mentioned in the previous chapter, is prayer; other agencies are sacrificial
offerings, and the use of amulet charms, or talismans, known as fetiches.
1. Fetich Worship as performed by Sacrifice and other Offerings. Sacrifice
is an element in all real worship, if by sacrifice, in the widest sense, may
be understood the devoting of any object from a common to a sacred use, and
this irrespective of the actual value of the gift (as is the case also with
Chinese paper imitation money scattered around the grave, in Chinese
funerals). The intention of the giver ennobles it; the spirit being supposed
in some vague way to be gratified by the respectful recognition of itself,
and even to be pleased sometimes by the gift itself.
(1) Thus the stones heaped by passers-by at the base of some great tree or
rock, the leaf cast from the passing canoe toward a point of land on the
river, though intrinsically valueless, and useless to the ombwiri of the
spot, are accepted as acknowledgments of that ombwiri's presence.
"All day we kept passing trees or rocks on which were placed little heaps of
stones or bits of wood; in passing these, each of my men added a new stone
or bit of wood, or even a tuft of grass. This is a tribute to the spirits,
the general precaution to insure a safe return. These people have a vague
sort of Supreme Being called Lesa, who has good and evil passions; but here
(Plateau of Lake Tanganyika), as everywhere else, the Musimo, or spirits of
the ancestors, are a leading feature in the beliefs. They are propitiated,
as elsewhere, by placing little heaps of stones about their favorite haunts.
At certain periods of the year the people make pilgrimages to the mountain
of Fwambo-Liamba, on the sununit of which is a sort of small altar of
stones. There they deposit bits of wood, to which are attached scraps of
calico, flowers, or beads; this is to propitiate Lesa.
"After harvest, for instance, they make such an offering. So when a girl
becomes marriageable, she takes food with her, and goes up to the mountain
for several days. When she returns, the other women lead her in procession
through the villages, waving long tufts of grass and palms." [1]
(2) Other gifts are supposed to be actually utilized by the spirit in some
essential way. In some part of the long single street of most villages is
built a low hut, sometimes not larger than a dog-kennel, in which, among all
tribes, are hung charms; or by which is growing a consecrated plant (a lily,
a cactus, a euphorbia, or a ficus). In some tribes a rudely carved human
(generally female) figure stands in that hut, as an idol. Idols are rare
among most of the coast tribes, but are common among all the interior
tribes. That they are not now frequently seen on the Coast is, I think, not
due to a lack of faith in them, but perhaps to a slight sense of civilized
shame. The idol has been the material object most denounced by missionaries
in their sermons against heathenism. The half-awakened native hides it, or
be manufactures it for sale to curio-hunters. A really valued idol, supposed
to contain a spirit, he will not sell. He does not always hide his fetich
charm worn on his person; for it passes muster in his explanation of its use
as a "medicine."
That idol, charm, or plant, as the case may be, is believed for the time to
be the residence of a spirit which is to be placated by offerings of some
kind of food. I have seen in those sacred huts a dish of boiled plantains
(often by foreigners miscalled "bananas") or a plate of fish. This food is
generally not removed till it spoils. Sometimes, where the gift is a very
large one, a feast is made; people and spirit are supposed to join in the
festival, and nothing is left to spoil. That it is of use to the spirit is
fully believed; but just how, few have been able to tell me. Some say that
the "life" or essence of the food has been eaten by the spirit; only the
form of the vegetable or flesh remaining to be removed.
(3) Blood sacrifices are common. In any great emergency a fowl with its
blood is laid at that low hut's door. In time of great danger, an expected
pestilence, a threatened assault
[1. Declč.]
by enemies, or some severe illness of a great man or woman, a goat or sheep
is sacrificed.
At the entrance to a village the way is often barred by a temporary light
fence, only a narrow arched gateway of saplings being left open. These
saplings are wreathed with leaves or flowers. That fence, frail as it is, is
intended as a bar to evil spirits, for from those arched saplings hang
fetich charms. When actual war is coming, this street entrance is barricaded
by logs, behind which real fight is to be made against human, not spiritual,
foes. The light gateway is sometimes further guarded by a sapling pinned to
the ground horizontally across the narrow threshold. An entering stranger
must be careful to tread over and not on it.
In an expected great evil the gateway is sometimes sprinkled with the blood
of a sacrificed goat or sheep. The flesh is not wasted; it is eaten by the
villagers, and especially by the magic doctor. Does not this look like a
memory of a tradition of the Passover and its paschal lamb? And does it not
suggest some thought of a blood atonement?
(4) 1 have not actually seen, or even heard of human sacrifices in the
tribes I have personally visited. But on the adjacent Upper Guinea Coast,
until ten years ago, there were human sacrifices to the sacred crocodiles of
the rivers of the Niger Delta. In the oil rivers of that same coast there
was, until recently, an annual sacrifice (as in the ancient Nile days) of a
maiden to the river spirits of trade, for success in foreign commerce.
Treaties with foreign civilized nations have now prohibited this sacrifice,
but the maiden has not gained much in the change. Instead of one being
sacrificed to a brute crocodile to please the spirit of trade,hundreds are
prostituted to please brutal, dissolute foreigners.
The thousands of captives butchered at the "annual custom" of Dahomey were
claimed by its successive kings, in their answer to the protests of the
ambassadors from civilized nations, to be required as offerings to the
safety of the nation, the omission of which would be punished by the loss of
the king's own life. Fearful as that annual barbarity was, I do not think
that those kings should properly be called " bloodthirsty." It was their
religion. All the more dreadful the religion that called for such deeds!
Here, again, the question presents itself whether Africa has gained much in
the substitution of wicked white representatives of civilization for the
heathen black representatives of fetichism. The Kongo River was rescued from
the cruelties and loss of life in the foreign slave-trade, only to be
subjected to greater cruelties, in its miscalled "Free State," under the
control of Belgium, at the hands of men like Major Lothaire.
The following remarks of Menzies[1] on the use of sacrifice by primitive man
are descriptive of the interior tribes of Africa to-day: "Sacrifice is an
invariable feature of early religion. Wherever gods are worshipped, gifts
and offerings are made to them of one kind or another. It is in this way
that, in antiquity at least, the relation with the deity was renewed, if it
had been slackened or broken, or strengthened and made sure. Sacrifice and
worship are, in the ancient world, identical terms. The nature of the
offering and the mode of presenting it are infinitely various, but there is
always sacrifice in one form or another. Different deities of course receive
different gifts; the tree has its roots watered, or trophies of battle or of
the chase are hung upon its branches; horses are thrown into the sea. But of
primitive sacrifice generally we may affirm that it consists of such food
and drink as men themselves partake of. Whether it be the fruit of the field
or the firstlings of the flock that is offered at the sacred stone, whether
the offering is burnt before the god or set down and left near him, or
whether he is sum moned to come down from the sky or to travel from the far
country to which he may have gone, it is of the materials of the meal that
the sacrifice consists. In some cases it appears to be thought that the god
consumes the offering, as when Fire is worshipped with offerings which he
burns up, or when a fissure in the earth closes upon a victim; but in
[1 History of Religion, pp. 65, 69.]
most cases it is only the spirit or finer essence that the god enjoys; the
rest he leaves to men. And thus sacrifice is generally accompanied by a
meal. The offering is presented to the god whole, but the worshippers help
to eat it. The god gets the savor of it which rises in the air towards him,
while the more material part is devoured below."
The testimony of travellers in other parts of Africa, distant thousands of
miles from the West Coast, show that the practice of offerings is almost
identical all over the southern third of the continent, the lines of
latitude of Bantu tribes being conterminous with their language and their
religion.
Arnot [1] says that in South Africa, "when going to pray, the Barotse make
offerings to the spirits of their forefathers under a tree, bush, or grove
planted for the purpose; and they take a larger or a smaller offering,
according to the measure of their request. If the offering be beer, they
pour it upon the ground; if cloth, it is tied to a horn stuck in the ground;
if an ox be slaughtered, the blood is poured over the horn, which, in fact,
is their altar." (Ps. cxviii. 27.)
In that same region, among the Barotse, "Nothing of importance can be
sanctified without a human sacrifice, in most cases a child. First the
fingers and toes are cut off, and the blood is sprinkled on the boat, drum,
house, or whatsoever may be the object in view. The victim is then killed,
ripped up, and thrown into the river."
Dec1č also [2] describes the religious habits of the Barotse tribes of
Southern Central Africa: "They chiefly worship the souls of their ancestors.
When any misfortune happens, the witch doctor divines with knuckle-bones
whether the ancestor is displeased, and they go to the grave and offer up
sacrifice of grain or honey. . . . They also bring to the tombs cooked
meats, which they leave there a few minutes and then eat. When they go to
pray by a grave, they also leave some small white beads. Whilst an
Englishman was journeying to Lialui, he passed near a little wood where
there lay a very venerated chief. The boatmen stopped, and having sacrificed
some
[1 Garenganze, p. 77.
2 Three Years in Savage Africa]
cooked millet, their headman designated a man to offer up a prayer, which
ran thus: 'You see us; we are worn out travellers, and our belly is empty;
inspire the white man, for whom we row, to give us food to fill our
stomachs.'"
Among the Wanyamwezi, "Every chief has near his hut a Musinio hut, in which
the dead are supposed to dwell, and where sacrifices and offerings must be
made. Meat and flour are deposited in the Musimo huts, and are not, as with
many other peoples, consumed afterwards. The common people also have their
Musimo huts, but they are smaller than that of the chief, and the offerings
they make are, of course, not so important as his."
The Wanyamwezi being great travellers, they have numberless ways of
propitiating the Musimo. "The night before starting they put big patches of
moistened flour on their faces and breasts. On the way, if by chance they
are threatened with war or any other difficulty, some of them go on ahead in
the early morning for about a hundred yards along the path over which they
are about to travel. Then they place a hand on the ground,and throw flour
over it in such a manner as to leave the impression of a hand on the soil.
At the same time they 'wish' hard that the journey may go off well. On the
march, from time to time each of them will deposit in the same spot a twig
of wood or a stone in such a way that a great heap gets collected. If they
halt in the midst of high grass each will plait a handful of grass, which
they tie together so as to make a kind of bower.[1] In the forest, if they
are pressed for time, each will make a cut with a blow of a hatchet in a
tree; but if they have time, they will cut down trees, lop off the branches,
and place these poles against a big tree; in certain places I have seen
stacks of hundreds of them around a single tree. Sometimes they will strip
pieces of bark from the trees, and stick them on the branches, and at others
they,will place a pole supported by two trees right over the path. On it
they will bang up a broken gourd, or an old box made of bark. On some
occasions they will even erect a
[1. I saw the same on the Ogowe. - R. H. N.]
little hut made of straw to the Musimo on the road itself; but this is
usually done when they are going on a hunting expedition, and not on a
journey. Near the villages, where two roads meet, are usually found whole
piles of old pots, gourds, and pieces of iron.[1] When a hunter starts for
the chase, he prays to the Musimo to give him good luck. If he kills any big
game, he places before the hut of his Musimo the head of the beast he has
killed, and inside a little of the flesh." [2]
2. Just as worship is an eminent part of religion, prayer is usually a chief
part of religious worship. But in fetichism, though it undeniably has a
part, it is not prominent, and not often formal or public. It plays a less
obvious and less frequent part than either sacrifices or the use of charms.
"Prayer is the ordinary concomitant of sacrifice; the worshipper explains
the reason of the gift, and urges the deity to accept it and to grant the
lielp tbat is needed. Tbe prayers of the earliest stage are offered on
emergencies, and often appear to be intended to attract the attention of the
god who may be engaged in another direction. The requests they contain are
of the most primary sort. Food is asked for, success in hunting or fishing,
strength of arm, rain, a good harvest, children, and so forth. They have a
ring of urgency; they state the claims the worshipper has on the god, and
mention his former offerings as well as the present one; they praise the
power and the past acts of the deity, and adjure him by his whole
relationship to his people (and also to his enemies) to grant their
requests." [3]
Fetich prayer may be and is offered without restriction by any one, young or
old, male or female; but to my knowledge it is seldom used by the young. A
very intelligent woman, a member of my Batanga church, tells, me that when
she was a child she possessed a fetich supposed to be very valuable, whicli
sbe had inherited from her father. She says that when she would be going
into the forest or
[1. These piles I have found at almost every village I have visited. - R, H.
N.
2. Declč, p. 346.
3 Menzies.]
where she expected difficulty or danger or trouble or was anxious for
success, she would hold the fetich in her hand, and with eye and thought
directed toward it and the spirit it was supposed to contain, would utter a
short petition for aid and protection.
But practically formal prayer is rarely made. Ejaculatory prayer, however,
is made constantly, in the uttering of cabalistic words, phrases, or
sentences adopted by or assigned to almost every one by parent or doctor.
They are uttered by all ages and both sexes at any time, as a defence from
evil, on all sorts of occasions, - e.g., when one sneezes, stumbles, or is
otherwise startled, etc.
The prayers which I have heard were of adults. On a journey, about 1876,
stopping for a night in a village on the Ogowe River, I saw the venerable
chief stand out in the open street. He addressed the spirits of the air,
begging them, "Come not to my town!" He recounted his good deeds - praising
himself as just, honest, and kind to his neighbors - as reason why no evil
should befall him, and closed with an impassioned appeal to the spirits to
stay away.
At another time, about 1879, in another Ogowe village, where a man's son had
been wounded, and a bleeding artery which had been successfully closed had
just broken open again, and the hemorrhage, if not promptly checked, would
probably be fatal, the father ran out of the hut, wildly gesticulating
towards the sky, saying, "Go away! go away! O ye spirits! why do you come to
kill my son?" And be continued for some time in a strain of alternate
pleading and protestation.
In another case I saw a woman who rushed into the street objurgating the
spirits, and in the next breath humbly supplicating them, who, she said,
were vexing her child that was lying in convulsions.
Observe that while these were distinctly prayers, appeals for mercy,
pathetic, agonizing protestations, there was no praise, no love, no thanks,
no confession of sin, - only a long, pitiful deprecation of evil.
There are also prayers of blessing. Parents in farewells to their children,
or a chief to his parting guest, or any grateful recipient of a valued gift,
will take the head or hand of the child, guest, or donor, and saying,
"Ibātā!" (blessing), or adding a cabalistic ejaculation, will sometimes
"blow" a blessing. From this custom has arisen the statement in some books
of travel that it was an African mode of honoring a guest to spit on his
hand. It is true that the sudden and violent expulsion of the breath in
"blowing " the "Ibātā" from the tip of the tongue is apt to be followed by
an ejection of more or less saliva, but the kernel of the custom lies in the
prayer of blessing accompanying the act.
In auguries made by the mfumu, or witch-doctor, among the Wanyamwezi, "the
mfumu holds a kind of religious service; he begins by addressing the spirits
of their forefathers, imploring them not to visit their anger upon their
descendants. This prayer be offers up kneeling, bowing and bending to the
ground from time to time. Then he rises, and commences a hymn of praise to
the ancestors, and all join in the chorus. Then, seizing his little gourds,
he executes a pas seul, after which he bursts out into song again, but this
time singing as one inspired." [1]
3. The third mode of worship has been already mentioned in a previous
chapter, viz., the use of charms or fetiches. This is the mode most
frequently used; and to the descriptions of their forms of preparation and
manner, universality, and the various effects of their use, the following
chapters are devoted.
[1. Declč]
CHAPTER VIII
THE FETICH - WITCHCRAFT - A WHITE ART - SORCERY
HUNDREDS of acts and practices in the life of Christian households in
civilized lands pass muster before the bar of ęsthetic propriety and
society, and even of the church, as not only harmless and allowable, but as
commendable, and conducive to kindness, good-will, and healthful social
entertainment; but in the doing of these acts few are aware of the fact that
some of them in their origin were heathenish and in their meaning
idolatrous, and that long ago they would have brought on the doer church
censure.
Norse legends and Celtic and Gaelic folk-lore abound in superstitions that
were held by our forefathers in honor of false gods and demons. Their
Christian descendants, to the present generations in Great Britain and the
United States, delight our children with the beautifully printed fairy tale,
forgetting, or not even. knowing, that once, long ago, that tale was a tale
of sin. The superstitious peasant of Germany, Ireland, and other European
countries, while as at least a nominal son of the church the worships God,
fears the machinations of trolls and the "good little people," and wards off
their dreaded influence by vocal and material charms, - a practice for -
which the African Negro just emerging from heathenism is debarred church-
membership. The practice is common to the three, - the untaught heathen, the
ignorant peasant, and the enlightened Christian, - but its significance
differs for each. To the Christian it is only a national or household
tradition, without religious or moral significance, and his belief in the
power of the cliarm is seldom seriously held. To the peasant the practice is
also a tradition; it is not his religion, but be thinks that somehow under
the divine Providence, in whom he believes and whom he worships in the
church, it will be conducive to his physical well-being. But to the heathen
it is a part of his religion, and leads to the exclusion of the true God,
whom he does not know, or at least does not worship.
In our Christian homes, around the Christmas tree, with all its holy, happy
thoughts, we decorate with the holly bush and we hang the mistletoe bough,
never thinking that the December festival itself was originally a heathen
feast, and that our superstitious forefathers spread the holly as a guard
against evil fairies, and hung the mistletoe as part of the ceremonies of a
Druid's human sacrifice.
The superstitious African Negro does precisely the same thing to-day,
because be believes in witchcraft; the holly bush not growing in his
tropical air, he has substituted the cayenne pepper bush. The witch or
wizard whom he fears can no more pass over that pepper leaf with its red
pods than the Irish fairy can dare the holly leaf with its red berries.
Superstitious acts are thus rooted in us all, heathen and Christian, the
world over; only with this great difference, - that to the Christian they
bear no religious or even moral significance; to the heathen their entire
raison d'źtre is that they are his religion, or rather part of his worship
in the practice of his religion.
In emerging from his heathenism and abandoning his fetichism for the
acceptance of Christianity, no part of the process is more difficult to the
African Negro than the entire laying aside of superstitious practices, even
after his assertion that they do not express his religious belief. From
being a thief, he can grow up an honest man; from being a liar, he can
beconie truthful; from being indolent, he can become diligent; froin being a
polygamist, he can become a niouogamist; froin a status of ignorance and
brutality, he can develop into educated courtesy. And yet in his secret
thought, while he would not wear a fetich, he believes in its power, and
dreads its influence if possibly it should be directed against himself.
Some church-members thus believing and fearing, do wear fetiches, claiming
that their use is simply defensive. In their moral thought they make a
distinction, which to them is clear and satisfactory in the present stage of
the enlightenment of their conscience, between the defensive and the
offensive use of the fetich, -the latter is a black art; the former is a
white art. Only the heathen and non-Christian element of the community
practise the black art. They ignore not God's existence, but deny that He
plays any part in the economy of human life. They believe in evil spirits,
and that they themselves can have association with them, by which they may
obtain power for all purposes; they use enchantments to obtain that power;
and having it, or professing to have it, they exercise it for the
gratification of revenge or avarice, or in other ways to injure other
persons. They become, in heart, murderers; and if occasion serve, by poison
or other means, are willing to become actual murderers. The community
regards them as criminals, and executes them as such when it is proved that
they used black art to accomplish the death of some one who has recently
died.
The Christian, of course, will practise none of the black arts, but
believing in their existence and power as permitted to the Evil One under
the divine government, he is willing to allow himself to use, as a counter-
influence, a fetich of the white art in self-defence.
The discussion of the morality of this white art is often a difficult
question in the church sessions in the discipline of some offending church-
member. Few of the natives have emerged so far into the light as to stand
squarely and fully with the missionary in his civilized attitude toward this
question of the allowability of a fetich charm under any circumstances. Even
the missionary, if he is wise and would not be unjust, will look with the
leniency of charity on an offence of this kind in the case of a convert only
lately come out of heathenism, which he would not or should not exercise
toward a fortune-teller or hoodoo practitioner under the broad light of
civilization.
In electing men as ruling elders in the church session, or accepting
candidates for the gospel ministry, while a certain degree of
intellectuality is desired, and a certain amount of education required, we
look first and always for the quality of their moral fibre, whether or not
it be untrammelled by the fetich cult.
A rare and noble example of utter freedom from any such superstitious bias
was the late Rev. lbia ja Ikenge. From his youth, believing in, using, and
practising fetich white art, when he became a Christian his conversion was
so clear and decided that he was soon made a ruling elder, was accepted as a
candidate, grew up to licensure as a probationer, subsequently reached
ordination to the ministry, and finally became pastor of the Corisco church
of his own Benga tribe. Honored during his ministerial life by all classes,
foreigners and natives, he died regretted by all, even by the heathen whose
sins he had unsparingly denounced. But there are few so morally clear as be.
A few years ago, while I was in charge of the Gabun church, in the Mpongwe
tribe, at the oldest station and outwardly the most civilized part of the
mission, I was surprised by a charge of witchcraft practice laid against a
very lady-like woman who was one of my intimate native friends. I had known
her from her childhood; had admired her intelligence, vivacity, and purity;
had unfortunately helped her into a disastrous marriage from which, as her
pastor, I afterwards rescued her with legal grounds for divorce; and
subsequently she had married a Sierra Leone man who professed to be a
Christian. It was discovered that she had hanging over the doorway in her
bedroom a fetich regularly made and bought from a fetich doctor. On trial of
the case, she denied that it was hers, stated that it was her husband's,
admitted that she knew of its existence and use, that she allowed it to be
placed in the usual spot for warding off evil spirits, and was not clear in
denial of belief that it might be of some use to her in that way.
My three ruling elders looked on the case more lightly than even I was
charitably disposed to do, and my own duty as a judge was obscured by my
friendship for the accused. It was a great pain for me to have even to
rebuke a lady I had so loved and trusted. She kept her anger wonderfully
under control while in the session meeting; but she resented the rebuke,
broke our friendship, and subsequently sought to injure me by slander. If
there was any doubt about her complicity with the fetich, there was no doubt
about the fact of her effort to injure me. I did not prosecute her (as I
would have done had she slandered any one else), lest I be suspected of
making-my position of session moderator an engine for personal revenge. She
subsequently made a noble reparation. She still affirms that she does not
believe in fetich, and remains in "good standing" in the church, while
occasionally hanging a charm on. her garden fence for its "moral effect" on
trespassers.
Lately a fellow missionary told me that in a conversation with certain
natives, professed Christians, they admitted their fear lest their nail-
clippings should be used against them by an enemy, and candidly acknowledged
that when they pared their nails they threw the pieces on the thatch of the
low roof of their house.
The missionary was surprised, and, perhaps with a little suspicion or
perhaps as a test, turning to a man present who had remained silent during
the discussion, said, "And you - what do you do with your parings?" He
honestly replied, "I throw them on the roof!" And this man is an elder, and
had been advanced to be a local preacher. There is no expectation of his
ordination, for though he can preach a good sermon, he is lacking in all
other abilities desirable in a minister. He is probably fifty years of age,
and for forty years has been in mission employ of some kind, and living in
the mission household much of that time. But this mission association has
not been to him the benefit it would have been to almost any one else; for,
being of slave origin, he seemed to prefer to keep aloof from the free-born,
grew up without companionship, and is extremely secretive. Though a
Christian and a good man, be bad not opened his inner life to all the
ennobling influences of the light.
A difficulty, admitted by the missionary in judging of the morality of the
use of a fetich charm, is the explanation offered by the natives, even by
some professedly Christian, that the charm is of the nature of a "medicine,"
and, generally, actually has medicines in it. It is known to the native that
civilized and Christian therapeutics recognize a great variety of medicinal
articles, solid and liquid, and that they are employed in a variety of ways,
-as lotions, ointments, and powders; and that some are drunk, some are
rubbed into the skin, and some are worn on the body, - e.g., a sachet of
sulphur in skin diseases, or of pungent essential oils to fend off insects,
-and that certain herbs whose scent is attractive to fish are rubbed on the
fisherman's hook. The missionary knows, too, that certain native medicinal
plants are used, and with efficiency, in precisely these ways and with
precisely these reasons as, at least in part, the ground for their use.
Truth gains nothing by an indiscriminate denunciation of all native
"medicine"; for the native knows by the personal experience of himself and
his observation of others that a given "medicine" has helped or cured
himself and others. His belief in this case is not a mere theory; it is
actual fact. The missionary loses in the native's respect, and in the
native's trust in his judgment or the value of his word, if he asserts
unqualifiedly that "native medicine" is "foolishness," especially if, as was
the case before the desirability of medical missionaries was as generally
recognized by the church as it now is, the missionary was able to give him
no substitute for the magic doctor. The native Christian's sense of justice
was aggrieved at being disciplined for the use of a medicine in sickness,
which experience told him had been of benefit and in place of which the
missionary offered him no other.
The native's error in his judgment of the case and the missionary's
justification of bis position lay in the idolatrous ceremonies that are
associated with the administration of the medicine. In the native's ignorant
mind, and in the distress of his disease, he was unable to see a distinction
between the therapeutic action of a drug and the mode of its administration.
In fact, to him that mode may be as important a factor contributive to the
desired result as the drug itself. In the heathen belief of the native
doctor it is admittedly true that the administration, not the drug, is the
important factor, both mode of administration and the drug itself deriving
all their efficiency from a spirit claimed by the magician to be under his
control, which is in some vague way pleased to be associated with the
particular drug and those special ceremonies. The native doctor does not
understand therapeutics as such. Some one of his ancestors happened to
observe that a certain leaf, bark, or root exhibited internally proved
efficient in cases where the symptoms indicated a certain disease which he
had failed to cure by his dances, drums, auguries, and other enchantments.
Not knowing the modus operandi of the drug itself, he had jumped to the
conclusion that he had finally happily found the adjuvant herb necessary to
please the spirit for whom he had been making enchantments, without which
herb the spirit had hitherto withheld its assistance. And ever afterward the
secret of this particular drug was guarded by his family, the knowledge of
its tree being handed down as an heirloom, the secret kept as jealously and
carefully as the recipe for the proprietary medicine of any quack in
civilized lands. In his medical ethics there was no quę prosunt omnibus.
The dividing line of morality between the fetich doctor and the Christian
physician is a narrow but deep chasm. The latter knows that, with all his
skill in physiology and the infallibility of his drug's indication, results
lie in the hand of God, with whom are the issues of life and death, who has
sovereignly and beneficently endowed certain plants or minerals with
properties befitting certain pathological conditions. The former ignores
God, and firmly believes that his own encbantments have subsidized the power
of a spirit, so that the spirit itself is to enter into the body of the
patient, and, searching through his vitals, drive out the antagonizing
spirit, which is the supposed actual cause of the disease. The etiology of
disease is to the native obscure. His attempts at explanation are somewhat
inconsistent; the sickness is spoken of as a disease, and yet the patient is
said to be sick because of the presence of an evil spirit, which being
driven out by the magician's benevolent spirit the patient will recover.
The drug exhibited with the ceremonies by which the friendly spirit is
induced to enter the body is entirely secondary and adjuvant, and is not
supposed to be any more efficient in producing a cure than was the Old
Testament incense of the Temple ritual in obtaining an answer to prayer.
But the drug is often a really valuable medicine, and does cure the patient.
Yet the native Christian must be forbidden to submit to its use, because of
the invariably associated heathen ceremonies. The magician alone knows from
what plant the drug came, and he positively refuses to administer it unless
its associated ceremonies are carefully observed. For the Christian to
consent to do that, is to "kiss the calves " [1] of idolatrous Israel, or to
partake of the "meats offered to idols." [2]
The manner of practising the white art by the magic doctor may be purely
ritual without his making or the patient's wearing any material amulet, but
the performance is none the less fetich in its character.
According to the usual procedure an article is prepared with incantations
referring to spiritual influences to be wom by the applicant either as a
cure for an actually existing disease or any other expected danger, or,
irrespective of disease, for the attainment of a desired object or for
success in some cherished plan. Its application may be as limitless as the
entire range of human desire.
The first step in the process is the selection of an object in which to
enclose the various articles deemed necessary to attract and please the
spiritual being whose aid is to be
[1. Hosea xiii. 2.
2. Acts xv. 29.]
invoked. In this selection it is not probable that superstitious or other
moral consideration enters. It is simply a matter of taste as to shape or
availability or convenience. The article usually chosen is a horn of a
gazelle or young antelope, or of a goat. The ground for the choice is
availability; those animals are common. The horns are preserved and are
therefore always at hand. They are small, light, and easily carried. They
are durable, not liable to rust and decay, as would be an article of
vegetable origin, and they have a convenient cavity.
The next step in the process is the selection of the substances which are to
be packed into the hollow of the horn. These are of both animal and
vegetable origin, but mostly vegetable. They may be very absurd to our
civilized view, they may be disgusting and even filthy; but they are all
ranked as "medicine," have actually some fitness to the end in view, as
described in the previous chapter, and are to be as carefully regarded as
are the ingredients of a physician's prescription by a druggist. Their
absurdity must not militate against the view of them as "medicine," even to
a civilized mind. We are not to forget that, all superstitious and fetich
ideas aside, our own pharmacopoeia one hundred years ago contained animal
products of supposed therapeutic value that were clumsy, annoying, and even
disgusting. Indeed, it is only in very modern medicine that the profession
have thought it worth while to regard the matter of agreeable look and
pleasant taste. Homceopathy, even if we do not all believe in it, must be
given credit for at least eliminating nauseous taste from the attributes of
a good medicine, even of an emetic.
From the wide range of substances, mineral, animal, and vegetable, the magic
doctor takes generally some plant. Indeed, so associated is the doctor's
thought of a tree and some spirit belonging to it, that an educated and very
intelligent native chief at Gabun who still clings to many heathen
practices, of whom recently I asked an explanation of fetich from the native
point of view, said sententiously, "A principle of fetich comes from trees."
This carried to me very little meaning. I asked him to explain at length. He
did so. He said that in the long ago, while still his ancestors knew of God
and had not entirely forgotten to give him some kind of worship, their
medicine men were botanists, and, like Solomon, "spake of trees." The herbs
and barks they used were employed solely for their own intrinsically
curative qualities. But as people became more degraded and "like people,
like priest," the medicine men added a ritual of song, dances, incantations,
and auguries by which to dignify their profession with mystery. As they grew
in power, they added claims of spiritual influence, by which to impress
their patients with fear and to exact obedience even from kings, until
finally the idea of a spirit as the efficient agent in the cure was
substituted for that of the drug itself, and fetich belief dominated all.
The reason for the choice of one tree rather than another in a given case of
sickness is almost impossible to find out. Perhaps there is a vague
tradition of the fact that it was used long ago by those who first happened
to discover that it bad real medicinal quality, and the present generation
continues to use it, though having forgotten what that quality was, or even
that it had any intrinsic quality of its own, their etiology of disease
assigning as the cause of all sickness the antagonistic presence of an evil
spirit.
The laity, heathen and Christian, positively do not know from what
particular tree the leaf or piece of bark was obtained, and they would not
be able to recognize it even if they were allowed to see it. They see only
the dry powder or ashes. Even if the heathen laity were able to tell me,
they will not do so. Even if they were bribed, I would have no certainty
that they were showing me the plant that was actually used; for they would
know that I would have no means of comparing specimens or of proving their
deception. The native will tell foreigners many things for friendship or for
regard, and he enjoys conversation with us; but superstition slams his
heart's door shut when he is asked to reveal secrets of the spirits. His
prompt thought is: " White man's knowledge has given him power. There is
little left of land, authority, women, or wealth in my country that he has
not seized. Shall I add to his power by telling him the secrets of my
spirits?" Of course the magic doctor will not tell. That would be giving
himself entirely away.
Even Christian men and women who have inherited from a parent knowledge of
some plant, and who use it rationally for its purely medicinal quality
without any reference whatever to spiritual influences, can barely be
induced to tell me of it. The fee they obtain is part of their means of
living. They make honest "medicine" in the circle of their acquaintances for
certain sicknesses for which their drug happens to be fitted. Of a cure for
any other sickness they know nothing, and must themselves go to some one
else who happens to possess the knowledge.
Even by me my native friends - though with their personal respect or
affection for me they would be willing to do much - do not like to be asked.
They know that I, in asking for information, expect to utilize it in letters
or lectures or books. Their secret would not be safe even with me, and it
may die with them. One of the noblest of my native female friends at Gabun,
a Christian, well educated, with only a minimum of superstition remaining,
and no belief at all in fetich, inherited from her mother much botanical and
medicinal knowledge. I observe her decocting a medicine for a sick friend,
and I ask her, "What medicine is that?" She turns away her usually frank
eyes and simply says, "Sijavi" (leaves). "Yes, I see they are leaves. But I
asked you what they are. Where do you get them?" With eyes still turned
away, she only says, "Go-iga" (in the forest). " Exactly; of course it's a
plant. But is it a tree or a vine or a shrub, or what?" And she looks at me
steadily, and quietly says, "Mi amie " (I don't know). I have long ago
learned that "mi amie," though only sometimes true, is not always a lie. It
is equivalent to our conventional "Not at home, "or a polite version of,
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." From my friend it is a kind
notification that the conversation had better be changed. It having reached
this acute stage, the pursuance of it would be worse than useless. I talk
about something else, and immediately she resumes her wonted cordiality.
Probably the particular herb selected by the fetich-man does possess some
therapeutic value (for cures are effected) of which he does not himself
know. He knows that that plant was said by his ancestors to be the proper
one to use in case of a certain sickness, but knowledge of the raison d'user
has been lost.
The use of drugs in decoctions is less likely to be merely superstitious.
The fresh leaves and barks are recognized. There is not likely to be a
secret about them. Whatever of fetich is introduced in the case will be in
the mode of administration.
The next step, the admixture of the ingredients, is secret. They are ground
or triturated, or reduced to ashes, and only the ash or charcoal of their
wood is used. Among the common ingredients are colored earths, chalk, or
potter's blue clays. Beyond the usual constituents constantly employed,
there are other single ones, which vary according to the end to be obtained
by the user of the fetich, - for one end, as elsewhere already mentioned,
some small portion of an enemy's body; for another, an ancestor's powdered
brain; for another, the liver or gall-bladder of an animal; for another, a
finger of a dead first-born child; for another, a certain fish; and so on
for a thousand possibilities. These ingredients are compounded in secret,
and with public drumming, dancing, songs to the spirit, looking into limpid
water or a mirror, and sometimes with the addition of jugglers' tricks,
e.g., the eating of fire.
The ingredients having been thus properly prepared, and the spirit,
according to the magician's declaration, having associated itself lovingly
with these mixed articles, they and it are put into the cavity of the
selected horn or other hollow thing (a gourd, a nut-shell, and so forth).
They are packed in firmly. A black resin is plastered over the opening.
Perbaps also a twine is netted tightly on the top of it. A red paint -
triturated red-wood mixed with palm or other oil - is daubed on it. While
the resin is still soft, the red tail-feathers of the gray African parrot
are stuck into it. This description is typical. It would be equally true if
the chosen material object had no cavity, e.g., if it were a pebble or a
piece of bark; in which case the sacred ingredients plastered on it would be
held in situ by the twine netting. A hole is bored in the apex of the horn,
and it is hung by a string from the neck, arm, waist, or ankle of the
purchaser, or from his door, roof, or garden fence; or from the prow of his
canoe; or from any one of a hundred other points, according to the
convenience of the owner or the object to be obtained by its use.
Those objects may be, all of them, not only desirable, but commendable, even
from a Christian point of view. In the exercise of the white art there is no
ill-will to or malice against any other known person. The owner of the
fetich amulet is only using, from his point of view, one of the known means
of success in life, -somewhat as a business man in civilized lands uses his
signs and tricks of trade to attract and influence customers.
It is true that our native convert, in abjuring fetich and refraining from
the white art, is at a disadvantage, humanly speaking, alongside of his
heathen fellow, just as the honest grocer who does not adulterate his foods
is somewhat at a disadvantage with the man who does.
The heathen, armed with his fetich, feels strong. He believes in it; has
faith that it will help him. He can see it and feel it. He goes on his
errand inspired with confidence of success. Confidence is a large part of
life's battle. If he should happen to fail, be excuses the failure by
remembering that he had not obeyed all the minute "orunda " directions that
the magician told him to follow. It is entirely in his power carefully to
obey all directions next time; and then be cannot possibly fail! The
Christian convert is weak in his faith. He would like to have something
tangible. He is not sure that he will succeed on his errand. He goes at it
somewhat half-hearted, and probably fails. His not very encouraging
explanation is that God is trying his faith. That explanation is perhaps not
the true one, but it is sufficient as his explanation. But it does not nerve
him for the next effort; only the strong rise to overcoming faith. The weak
ask the missionary whether they may not be allowed to carry a fetich only f
or "show." That "show" is for effect on a heathen competitor; for the moral
effect on that competitor's mind, - that he should not think that the
convert, in becoming a Christian, was at a disadvantage as to chances of
success in the race with him. But that would be allowing even the
"appearance of evil."
It was actually true, in the early days of mission effort, that converts
were oppressed by heathen under the idea that, as the gospel proclaimed by
the missionary was a message of peace, all the "peace" was to be on the
Christian's side, and that he dared not strike a blow even in self-defence.
But we did not understand the angels' song of good-will as explained by the
followers of George Fox, and by precept and example we allowed the use of
force in the defence of right.
As to the use of fetich by those who did not really believe in it, it was
true that some Europeans, non-Christian men in their trade with the natives,
seeing what a power the fetich was in the native thought, and knowing that
it was exercised against themselves, deemed it a matter simply of sharp
praetice to adopt a fetich themselves, and play the native at his own game.
To my knowledge this was done by an Englishman now dead. I was intimately
acquainted with him; and though his morals were objectionable and his
religion agnosticism, I enjoyed his society. He was a gentleman in manners,
intelligent, well-read, interested, in common with myself, in African
philology and ethnology, and his river steamers often generously helped me
in my itinerations. His trade interests were large; he spoke the native
language well, was practically acquainted with native customs and native
mode of thought. He was a good hater and a firm friend, strict with
subordinates to the point of severity, but on occasions free-handedly
generous. Naturally such a character, while it made for him many friends,
developed some enemies. A few hated him, most liked him, even while all
feared him. To checkmate them on their own ground and to carry prestige in
dealing with the heathen chiefs of wild tribes, he caused to be made for
himself, and allowed it to be known in advance that he carried, a powerful
fetich. The effect was very decided in increasing his power, influence, and
trade success, so successful that I am not sure but that he grew himself to
have some faith in it, -an illustration of the oft-noted fact in moral
philosophy that non-Christian credulity often leads men's beliefs further
than does Christian faith. The after history of my trader friend is a sad
illustration of the wings that ill-gotten wealth develops. His fetich
assisted in amassing a fortune several times over, but it did not retain it
for him. He died in pitiful want.
Practice of this white art holds all over South Africa and among all its
tribes. "They believe in charms, fetiches, and witchcraft. The latter is the
source of great dread to a Mashona, who fears that death or accident may
overtake him through the instrumentality of some fellow-being who may
perchance hold against him a grudge. For the purpose of avoiding these
calamities, charms are worn about the person, usually around the neck.
Divining bones or blocks of wood called 'akata' are thrown by the witch-
doctors to discover a witch or evil spirit, and they are also employed to
ascertain the probable results of a journey, a hunt, or a battle, -in short,
any and all of the events of life." [1]
"The tribes we have passed through seem to have one common religion, if it
can be called by that name. They say there is one great spirit, who rules
over all the other spirits; but they worship and sacrifice to the spirits of
ancestors, so far as I can learn, and have a mass of fetich medicines and
enchantments. The hunter takes one kind of charm. with
[1. Brown, On the South African Frontier, p. 113.]
him; the warrior another. For divining they have a basket filled with bones,
teeth, finger-nails, claws, seeds, stones, and such articles, which are
rattled by the diviner till the spirit comes and speaks to him by the
movement of these things. When the spirit is reluctant to be brought up, a
solemn dirge is chanted by the people. All is attention while the diviner
utters a string of short sentences in different tones, which are repeated
after him by the audience." '
[1. Arnot, Garenganze, p. 106.]
CHAPTER IX
THE FETICH - WITCHCRAFT - A BLACK ART - DEMONOLOGY
THE distinction sought to be made by the half-civilized Negro between a
white art and a black art, as a justification of his practice of fetich
enchantments, lies in the object to be obtained by their use, He vainly
tries to find a parallel to them ia Christian use of fire-arms, - proper for
defence, improper for unprovoked assault. The black art he admits is wrong,
its object being to kill or injure some one else; the white he thinks
allowable, because with it he acts simply on the defensive. He wishes to
ward off a possible blow of an unseen foe aimed at himself. He professes his
intention not to strike or take otherwise active measures to injure any
known person. After every allowance made, the distinction between the arts
as moral and immoral is not a clear one. They differ only in their degree of
immorality. The means both use are immoral, not justified by the possible
goodness of the desired end, and not sanctified by the intention of the
user. Both use fetiches. Fetich, if it has power at all, is not of God; if
it is powerless, it is folly. Thus, in every and any case, it dishonors God.
But whatever doubt there might have been as to the allowability of white art
practice, there is no doubt as to the immorality of black art. It always
contemplates a possible taking of life.
The term " witchcraft," which attaches itself to all fetichism, localizes
itself in the black art practice, which is thus pre-eminently known as
"witchcraft." Its practitioners are all,wizards " or "witches." The user of
the white is not so designated. He or she does not deny the use; it is open
and without any sense of criminality in the eyes of the community, however
much he or she may endeavor to suppress the fact from the knowledge of
church officers. But a practitioner of the black art denies it and carries
on his practice secretly.
The above distinction is observed by travellers in other parts of Africa, as
will be seen by the following quotations, which give also an interesting
exposition of the ceremonies and practices of the black art in different
regions:
"Among the Matabele of South Africa," says Declč, " it is well understood
that there were two kinds of witchcraft. One was practised by the witch-
doctors and the king, such as, for instance, the 'making of medicine' to
bring on rain, or the ceremonies carried out by the witch-doctors to appease
the spirits of ancestors.[1] The other witchcraft was supposed to consist of
evil practices pursued to cause sickness or death.
"According to native ideas, all over Africa, such a thing as death from
natural causes does not exist. Whatever ill befalls a man or a family, it is
always the result of witchcraft, and in every case the witch-doctors are
consulted to find out who has been guilty of it. In some instances the
witch-doctors declare that the evil has been caused by the angry spirits of
ancestors; in which case they have to be propitiated through the medium of
the witch-doctors. In other cases they point out some one or several persons
as having caused the injury by making charms; and whoever is so accused by
the witchcraft doctor is immediately put to death, his wife and the -whole
of his family sharing his fate. To bewitch any one, according to Matabele
belief, it is sufficient to spread medicine on his path or in his hut. There
are also numerous other modes of working charms; for instance, if you want
to cause an enemy to die, you make a clay figure that is supposed to
represent him. With a needle you pierce the figure, and your enemy, the
first time he comes in contact with a foe, will be speared.
[1. This would be what I have denominated the " white art." - R, H. N.]
"The liver and entrails of a crocodile are supposed to be most powerful
charms, and whoever becomes possessed of them can cause the death of any man
he pleases. For that reason, killing a crocodile is a very heinous crime.
[1]
"While I was in Matabele-land, a crocodile was one day found speared on the
bank of a river. The witch-doctors were consulted in order to find out who
had been guilty of the deed; and six people were denounced as the offenders
and put to death with their families.
"Of witch-doctors there are two kinds.[2] The first deliver oracles by bone-
throwing. They have three bones carved with different signs; these they
throw up, and according to the position they assume when falling, and the
side on which they fall, they make the prediction. The other kind deliver
their oracles in a slow and very shrill chant. Both are supposed to be on
speaking terms with spirits. They are in constant request, but are usually
poorly paid. Their influence, however, is tremendous; and in Lo-Bengula's
time their power was as great as, if not greater than, the king's. Lo-
Bengula always kept two or three of them near him. Chief among their works
was that of rain-making; this was done with a charm made from the blood and
gall of a black ox. No witch-doctors, however, could make rain except by the
orders of the king. It was a risky trade; for they were put to death if they
failed in their endeavors to produce rain. Dreams are considered of deep
significance by the witch-doctors. Madmen are supposed to be possessed of a
spirit, and were formerly under the protection of the king.
"One of the most remarkable ceremonies that used to be performed by the
witch-doctors was that of I smelling out the witches (wizards? ). On the
first moon of the second month of the year all the various regiments
gathered at Buluwayo, and held a bip, dance in which the king took part;
usually, from 12,000 to 15,000 warriors assembled for this ceremony. After
the dance the smelling of witches began. The various
[1. In that part of Africa. - R. H. N.
2 Really, only a difference in admistration. - R. H. N.]
regiments being formed in crescent shape, the king took his stand in front
surrounded by the doctors, usually women. Then began a slow song accompanied
by a dance; they carried in their hand a small wand. Gradually the song and
the dance became quicker; they seemed to be possessed. They rushed madly
about, passing in front of the soldiers, pretending to smell them. All of a
sudden they stopped in front of a man, and touching him with their wands,
began howling like maniacs; the man was immediately removed and put to
death. In this way hundreds of people were killed every year during the big
dance. No one, however high his position, was protected against the mandate
of the witch-doctors, usually the tools of the king, who found in this a way
of getting rid of his enemies, or of doing away with those in high station
whose loyalty he had reason to doubt. Other crimes are few except the ever-
present witchcraft. To bewitch an enemy on the Tanganika plateau, you
scatter a red powder round his hut and a white one near his door; this never
fails to kill.
"Ordeal by muavi is, of course, flourishing; with the enlightened
modification. that, if the accused does not die, he can recover damages from
the accuser. In the Mambwe district the muavi is made of a poisonous
bean."[1]
The same "medicines," the same dances, the same enchantments used in the
black art, are used in the professedly innocent white art; the chief
difference being in the mission that the utilized spirit is entrusted to
perform.
Similarity in witchcraft practices is one of the several grounds held by
ethnologists, as proving identity in origin of the African Negro and the
Australian black. To quote from Dr. Carl Lumholtz's book, "Among Cannibals":
"In the various [Australian] tribes are so-called wizards, who pretend to
communicate with the spirits of the dead and get information from them. They
are able to produce sickness or death whenever they please, and they can
produce or stop rain and many other things. Hence these wizards are greatly
feared. Attention is called to the influence of this fear of witchcraft upon
[1. Declč, Three Years in Savage Africa, pp. 152, 154, 294.]
the character and customs of the natives. It makes them bloodthirsty, and at
the same time darkens and embitters their existence. An Australian native is
unable to conceive death as natural except as the result of an accident or
of old age; while diseases and plagues are always ascribed to witchcraft and
to hostile blacks. In order to practise his arts against any black man, the
wizard must be in possession of some article that has belonged to him. On
Herbert River the natives need only to know the name of the person in
question, and for this reason they rarely use their proper names in
addressing or speaking of each other, but simply their class names. I once
met a black man who told me that he personally had been the victim of
strange wizards, and that ever since that time he had been a sufferer from
headache. One afternoon many years ago, two wizards had captured and bound
him; they had taken out his entrails and put in grass instead, and had let
him lie in this condition till sunrise. Then he suddenly recovered his
senses and became tolerably well; a result for which he was indebted to a
wizard of his own tribe, who thus proved himself more powerful than the two
strangers. The blacks call an operation of this kind kobi, and a man who is
able to perform it, as a matter of course, is very much respected and
feared."
"The Ovimbundu race," says Arnot, "of Bibe and the country to the west are
most enterprising traders and imitators of the Portuguese. They seem,
however, to retain tenaciously their superstitions and fetich worship.
"In Chikula's yard there is a small roughly cut image, which I believe
represents the spirit of a forefather of his. One day a man and woman came
in and rushed up to this image, dancing, howling, and foaming at the mouth,
apparently mad. A group gathered round, and declared that the spirit of
Chikula's forefather had taken possession of this man and woman, and was
about to speak through them. At last the 'demon' began to grunt and groan
out to poor Chikula, who was down on his knees, that he must hold a hunt,
the proceeds of which must be given to the people of the town; must kill an
ox, provide so many pots of beer, and proclaim a great feast and dance.
Furthermore, all this was to be done quickly. The poor old man was
thoroughly taken in, and in two days' time the hunt was organized.
"Thus I find, as among the Barotse, that divining and prophesying, with
other religious and superstitious means, are resorted to in order to secure
private ends and to offer sacrifice to the one common god, the belly.
"At another time a man came to Senhor Porto's to buy an ox. He said that
some time ago he had killed a relation by witchcraft to possess himself of
some of his riches, and that now he must sacrifice an ox. to the dead man's
spirit, which was troubling him. This killing by witchcraft is a thing most
sincerely believed in; and on hearing this man's coldblooded confession of
what was at least the intent of his heart, it made me understand why the
Barotse put such demons into the fire.
"Among the Ovimbundu, old and renowned witches (wizards?) are thrown into
some river, though almost every man will confess that he practises
witchcraft to avenge himself of wrong done and to punish his enemies. One
common process is to boil together certain fruits and roots, with which the
wizard daubs his body, in order to enlist the aid of the demons; and the
decoction is then thrown in the direction of the victim, or laid in his
path, that he may be brought under the bewitching spell." [1]
We quote again from Dr. J. L. Wilson, "Western Africa": Witchcraft, and the
use of fetiches as a means of protection against it, is carried to a greater
extent here [Southern Guinea] than in Northern Guinea, owing, no doubt, to
the greater imaginativeness of the people. The marvels performed by those
who are supposed to possess this mysterious art transcend all the bounds of
credulity. A man can turn himself into a leopard, and destroy the property
and lives of his fellow-men. He can cause the clouds to pour out torrents of
rain, or hold back at his pleasure.
[1. Arnot, Garenganze, p. 115.]
"A different article is used here for the detection of witchcraft from that
used in Northern Guinea. The root of a small shrub, called akazya, is
employed, and is more powerful than that used in the other section of the
country. A person is seldom required to drink more than half a pint of the
decoction. If it acts freely as a diuretic, it is a mark of innocence; but
if as a narcotic, and produces dizziness and vertigo, it is a sure sign of
guilt. Small sticks are laid down at the distance of eighteen inches or two
feet apart, and the suspected person, after he has swallowed the draught, is
required to walk over them. If he has no vertigo, he steps over them easily
and naturally; but, on the other hand, if his brain is affected, he imagines
they rise up before him like great logs, and in his awkward effort to step
over them, is apt to reel and fall to the ground. In some cases this draught
is taken by proxy; and if a man is found guilty, he is either put to death
or heavily fined, and banished from the country. In many cases post-mortem
examinations are made with the view of finding the actual witch; I have
known the mouth of the aorta to be cut out of a corpse, and shown as
unanswerable proof that the man had the actual power of witchcraft.[1] No
one expects to resent the death of a relative under such circumstances. He
is supposed to have been killed by his awkward management of an instrument
that was intended for the destruction of others; and it is rather a cause of
congratulation to the living that he is caught in a snare of his own," and
that his own "witch" has killed him. [2]
Not every one who uses white art is able also to use the black. Any one
believing in fetich can use white arts, and not subject himself to the
charge of being a wizard. Those who desire to go beyond the arts of defence,
and gratify their revenge or any other passion by killing or injuring some
one
[1. And, similarly, I have known the fimbriated extremities of the fallopian
tubes in a woman held up as a proof of her having been a witch. The ciliary
movements of these fimbrię were regarded as the efforts of her "familiar" at
a process of eating. The decision was that she had been "eaten" to death by
her own offended familiar. - R. H. N.]
2 Wilson, Western Africa, p. 398.]
else, have generally to purchase the agency of a doctor or some one skilled
in the black art. Should the means thus employed be efficient in causing a
death (or seemingly so, by the coincidence of their use and the death
itself) and the facts become known, both the doctor and the man who employed
him would probably be put to death. Yet, inconsistently, the very men who
would execute them have themselves used, or will some day use, these same
black arts for the same murderous purpose, and the native doctors will
continue in their risky business.
And yet, again, inconsistently, every man and woman in the community dreads
such a charge, and looks askance on those who are suspected of belonging to
the Witchcraft Company. For there is such a society, not distinctly
organized. It has meetings at which they plot for the causing of sickness or
even the taking of life. These meetings are secret; preferably in a forest,
or at least distant from a village. The hour is near midnight. An imitation
of the hoot of an owl, which is their sacred bird, is their signal call.
They profess to leave their corporeal body lying asleep in their huts, and
claim that the part which joins in the meeting is their spirit-body, whose
movements are not hindered by walls or other physical objects. They can pass
with instant rapidity through the air, over the tree-tops. At their meetings
they have visible, audible, and tangible communication with evil spirits.
They partake of feasts; the article eaten being the "heart-life " of some
human being, who, in consequence of this loss of his "heart," becomes sick,
and will die, unless it be restored. The early cock-crowing is a warning for
them to disperse; the advent of the morning star they fear, as it compels
them to hasten back to their bodies. Should the sun rise upon them before
they reach their corporeal "home," their plans would fail, and themselves
would sicken. They dread cayenne pepper. Should its bruised leaves or pods
have been rubbed over their body-home by any one during their absence, they
would be unable to re-enter it, and would die or miserably waste away.
The attitude of all missionaries toward executions on a charge of being a
witch or a wizard has uniformly been distinctly in opposition to them. We
characterize them as murder. The European governments which have taken
possession of Africa also put down witchcraft, medicine-making, and
execution of supposed witchcraft murderers with a strong hand. The natives
submit under pressure of force, but unwillingly. Each man or woman is glad
of the strong foreign power that protects himself or herself from being put
to death on a witchcraft charge; but they each complain that the government
does not execute, nor will allow them to execute, others against whom they
make the same charge. It is undeniably true that were the European
governments that have partitioned Africa to withdraw to-day, the witch-
doctors, with poison ordeal and fetich killing and witchcraft execution,
would promptly re-establish themselves and soon would become rampant again.
The Christian churches and communities already established would barely hold
their own, and would not have an influence extensive enough to restrain the
forces of evil.
I quote from a recent issue of a Freetown, Sierra Leone, newspaper, edited
by a Negro, an article written by a Negro on this subject: "The subject of
'witchcraft' has been agitating of late the minds of this community, and
much sense and more nonsense has been heard from those who take upon
themselves to elucidate the matter. It is a very difficult and delicate
question to tackle at all times, especially when knowledge, which is always
the foundation of eloquence, is absent. From the statement of Holy
Scriptures we know that there is such a thing as witchcraft, and the theory
is confirmed by the records of English history. It will be a most desirable
thing if any person guilty of witchcraft could be convicted by means that
would be convincing in the legal investigation of other crimes; it will save
the community from many heart-burnings and mistakes.
"A writer in a local journal recently made the assertion that in any case of
poisoning in the cities of Europe, steps are taken to trace the poison by
eminent physicians and detectives employed to hunt up the accused, but in
our opinion the cases are not analogous. In the case of suspected poisoning
post-mortem examinations by competent authorities will disclose the fact
whether the deceased died of poisoning; unfounded, and in some instances
gratuitous, assertions are not without proofs allowed to cloud the life of
individuals. A prima facie case once established, the suspect is pursued
with the utmost vigor of the law.
"In this colony [Sierra Leone] most deaths are attributed to the influence
of witches, and accusation of witchcraft is at once made against individuals
without attempt at obtaining evidence.
"How can it be proved that there is a band of these wicked ones, so as to
attach credence to the confession of a consciencestricken member who
implicates also a number of coadjutors? The problem is an intricate one, and
requires thoughtful investigation."
The slaves exported from Africa to the British possessions in the West
Indies brought with them some of the seeds of African plants, especially
those they regarded as "medicinal," or they found among the fauna and flora
of the tropical West Indies some of the same plants and animals held by them
as sacred to fetich in their tropical Africa. The ceiba, or silk-cotton
tree, at whose base I find in Africa so many votive offerings of fetich
worship, they found flourishing on Jamaica. They had established on their
plantations the fetich doctor, their dance, their charm, their lore, before
they had learned English at all. And when the British missionaries came
among them with school and church, while many of the converts were sincere,
there were those of the doctor class who, like Simon Magus, entered into the
church-fold for sake of whatever gain they could make by the white man's new
influence, the white man's Holy Spirit! Outwardly everything was serene and
Christian. Within was working an element of diabolism, fetichism, there
known by the name of Obeah, under whose leaven some of the churches were
wrecked. And the same diabolism, known as voodoo worship, in the Negro
communities of the Southern United States has emasculated the spiritual life
of many professed Christians.
It must be admitted, as to this whole matter of witchcraft belief and
witchcraft murder and witchcraft execution, however wrong the Negro belief,
his sense of justice is aggrieved by the attitude of the foreign missionary
and the foreign government. Something should be allowed to that sense of
justice. Both missionary and government err sometimes, in their judgment of
individual or tribal crime and in their punishment of it, by arbitrarily
following only civilized law and the civilized point of view; ignoring or
not giving proper weight, in the make up of their judgment, to the degree to
which the fetich enters as a factor in native motives and acts, and the
power with which it influences native thought.
In Matabele-land, South Africa, after the defeat and death of the king Lo-
Bengula, and the occupation of his country by Great Britain, there was an
outbreak, the cause of which was not fully appreciated until it was traced
to the witchdoctors, who seized the occasion of the ravages of the
rinderpest, which was at that time devastating the cattle of South Africa,
to make use of their power." Naturally they must have felt, more than
anybody else, the occupation of Matabeleland by the whites, as it meant the
disappearance of their former power. When the rinderpest broke out, they
probably persuaded the natives, who understood nothing about an epidemic and
attributed whatever ill befalls them to witchcraft, that it was the spirit
of Lo-Bengula, which was dissatisfied with them and which caused their
cattle to die. To appease Lo-Bengula's spirit, it was necessary to fight the
whites. They, the witch-doctors, would make medicine to turn the bullets of
the white men into water, so that the Matabele could not be hurt by them."
Similarly Great Britain with difficulty has suppressed several risings of
the Ashantees, and the late so-called " HutTax " rebellion in Sierra Leone.
The actual force of the
[1. Brown, On the South African Frontier.]
natives, in organization, arms, and skill, was almost ridiculous in its
inferiority as compared with the thoroughly armed and disciplined troops of
the British Empire; but the final result, though never doubtful, was
attained with much loss of men and funds. The fetich doctor and fetich
belief were a vis a tergo with the native horde. Its value as a factor in
the contest had not been reckoned on by the foreigner. Whatever motives
influenced the native in the contest, in patriotism, cupidity, revenge,
bravery, they were minor. The grand influence that nerved his arm and made
him perfectly fearless in his assaults against weapons of precision, was his
deep conviction, more complete than Christian faith, that he would win. Had
not the fetich doctor told him so? Though there had been some apparent
failures, in his belief they were only apparent. The real failure was in his
own self, his not having followed minutely all the fetich directions. Those
directions followed rightly in the next battle, he could not fail.
The faith of a Christian does not assure him, in any emergency of life, that
he will be successful in his plan; it only certifies him that, whatever be
the result, success or failure, of any single act or series of acts in
life's drama, his own will must be subordinated to God's, who, if not
granting his specific wish to-day, will overrule everything in the final
denouement for his best spiritual good.
Similarly the heathen fetich, mixed with the fatalism of Islam, is an
explanation of the splendid recklessness with which the followers of the
Mahdi flung themselves against the sabres and maxims of General Kitchener's
army at Omdurman.
Faith in fetich is a power as long as its devotee believes in its
infallibility. When that is gone, his flight or conquest is instant. Fetich
power therefore cannot be invariably relied upon as a motive to action. It
may sometimes be magnificent. Only Christian faith or civilized discipline
can be sublime, as compared with it.
But a fetich devotee who has lost his faith in his fetich could never have
stood with Christian martyrs who knew perfectly well that within an hour
they would be torn to pieces in the arena. Their sublime faith looked beyond
that arena to the eternal promise. A fetich soldier who has lost his faith
in his fetich could never have gone with those who stood head erect before
certain death in the Alamo fort or who rode in the charge at Balaklava.
Their elevated motives of patriotism, implicit soldierly obedience to order,
and the sweet scent of human glory made them discount the value of their own
blood. These were motives not only powerful in force, but great in
character. The Negro's fetich faith is powerful, but never great.
Something cognate to this in the comparison of the power and the greatness
of a motive will explain the persistent fatuity of the Boer in protracting
his contest with Great Britain. From the very first, whatever the world may
have thought of essential right or justice in the case, the world knew that
England would win. The Boer would have been wise to have accepted defeat
earlier and made terms with a conqueror who generally has been magnanimous
and rarely cruel, rather than invite, by guerilla warfare, measures severer,
harsher, and possibly exterminative. The Boer is a Christian, but his faith
was of the Mosaic kind that expected the God of battles to interfere visibly
in his behalf. The president of the republic had preached that he would do
so. The Boer looked on the president as a prophet, and believed him. But his
faith was an unreasonable one; it was fatuous. His bravery, patriotism,
marksmanship, and endurance could not avail. These all tell well for a
martyrdom, if martyrdom were desirable or necessary, but they did not tell
well for assertion of success.
France, overcome by Germany, still was brave and patriotic; but she was wise
in accepting the inevitable, - wiser than the Negro or the Boer. France
believed in God; so did Germany. But the faith of neither was of the fetich
kind. Nevertheless, the fetich faith is magnificent, even if it be fatuous.
For the apparently cruel side of the black art, viz., the killing of those
guilty of witchcraft, there is some allowance to be made.
To the believer in fetich the killing is a judicial act. He does not call it
a murder, but an execution; and he tries to justify it by an argument which
even the missionary has to admit is correct if the Negro's premises in the
argument are admitted. As we do not admit both of them, his argument falls.
But it is difficult to show him that his second premise is wrong, and be is
unconvinced.
I have several times been thoroughly worsted in my discussion with native
chiefs on this matter of witchcraft executions. In the early years of my
missionary life, while resident on Corisco Island, I followed the practice
of my predecessor, the Rev. J. L. Mackey, in the effort to prevent such
executions, which were then (about 1863) common. We directed the native
Christians to notify us of any death, and we would at once go to the village
and endeavor to forestall the almost invariable witchcraft investigation.
The headman, Kombenyamango, of an adjacent village, was a large, strong,
influential, cruel man. There was so little about him to command my respect
that I had shown him but slight deference. Having thus his amour propre
wounded, he was unfortunately not on very good terms with me. His aged
mother had been failing in health for a long time, and finally had died. Her
position, as mother of a chief, had given her much respect in native eyes.
The concourse of mourners gathered from a distance was large. Feeling for
her death was deep; threats of vengeance for her taking off were loud. I was
soon informed that one of her female slaves bad been seized under pure
suspicion because of her proximity as the dead woman's servant. In her case
as a means of finding whether or not she was guilty, there had been no
ordeal test of drinking the inbundu poison. (On the Upper Guinea Coast it is
sassa-wood; at Calabar, the Calabar bean; at the equator, the akazya leaf.)
Under torture, being beaten and lacerated by thorn bushes, she had confessed
herself guilty, was in chains, and was soon to be executed.
On such occasions, on arriving at the village, there was often an effort on
the part of the chief to deceive the missionary. The chief would either
assert that he had had no intention of making a witchcraft investigation, or
would consent now, in deference to his white friend the missionary, to
abandon his intention, and would forbid any execution. But it would be
revealed to us afterwards that at that very moment a victim was in chains in
that very village, and had subsequently been secretly put to death.
This day Kombenyamango, though receiving me with sufficient respect, was
nonchalant. He did not lie. He promptly, in answer to my question, said,
"Yes, I have a prisoner here, and I intend to put her to death." "Why?"
"Because she has killed my mother!" I told him I did not believe his mother
had died by unnatural means, and I preached to him the usual sermon on the
Sixth Commandment. I was at that time young in my knowledge of native
thought and fetich belief. I can see now that to every sentence of my
address he could have said Amen, in his believing, as he did, that his
mother had been murdered, and that this slave woman had broken the Sixth
Commandment. But, after listening awhile, he became impatient, and said,
"Look here! in your country, when a person kills your mother, don't you tie
a rope about his neck and hang him up, and don't you say you are doing right
in so doing?" "Yes." "Well, that's just what I am going to do to this woman,
and I am right." "Yes, you would be right if she has killed your mother; but
she has not. The bewitching with which you charge her is foolish." (As to
the folly, I know now that that was a matter of opinion between him and me;
and be had reason for his opinion.) He replied, "But she has confessed that
she is guilty." "Quite possibly; but still a lie on her part, for she would
say anything to obtain temporary relief from your torture." "But ask her
yourself." "No use to do so in your presence; she is afraid of you, and she
will not dare to speak to me or contradict you." "Well, then, I will bring
her; and you take her off there among the plantains by yourself, and see
what she will say." This sounded fair; but even so, I had my doubts, for she
did not know me. Perhaps they would lie to her, and tell her I was
confederate with her master, and would order her not to alter her
confession. And she, in her dazed condition, was really not responsible for
anything she might say. She was brought from a hut. She was in chains, and
yet with her limbs free to walk. There was no possibility of her escape; nor
of my being able to abduct her, had I been unwise enough to attempt it. I
led her out of Kombenyamango's hearing, but still plainly in his sight, and
kindly said to her, "Did you do this? " To my amazement, she said, "Yes."
"But what did you do? If you say you killed her, how did you do it?" She
described minutely how, being in attendance on the old woman, she was often
vexed at her petulance, and had been beaten by her for small neglects; bow,
in her anger, she had desired her mistress's death; had collected crumbs of
her food, strands of her hair, and shreds of her clothing; how she had mixed
these with other substances, and had sung enchantments with drum and dance,
aided by others; had tied all these things together on a stick which she had
secretly buried at the threshold of the old woman's door, desiring and
expecting that she should thereby die. By an unfortunate coincidence the old
woman had died a month or two later; and the slave believed that what she
had done had been efficient to accomplish the taking of life.
Baffled, I returned to Kombenyamango, and admitted her confession. But I
told him that, even so, both be and she were under a delusion; that what she
had done had no efficiency for accomplishing a murder; that it was
impossible. (Here again was a difference of opinion as to possibility; he
believed his senses. In his life he had seen witchcraft mysteries; I had
not.)
It was useless, even inconsistent, to plead for mercy; I retired heartsick.
I was morally certain the old woman had died a natural death. Yet this poor
slave woman had had murder in her heart, and had tried to make her murderous
thought effective. She was, before God, guilty. She had confessed herself,
before man's bar, guilty. (Well for the thousands of us who know ourselves
guilty in thought, that we are not to be held by our fellow-sinners as
guilty in act!) I knew that she was really innocent, but I could not prove
it. She was taken to sea in a boat, and decapitated; her remains were thrown
into the sea.
On another occasion, a year later, also on Corisco Island, a certain heathen
headman of a village, Osongo, had died. A female slave who was suspected had
fled. Her flight was regarded as proof positive of her guilt. Our mission
premises had always been accorded by the native chiefs the right of
sanctuary. A refugee for any offence could not be seized on our premises
till we saw just reason for "extraditing" him. This slave woman had hidden
herself in our jungle-thicket adjoining a forest; just where I did not know.
Two freemen-my personal employees, good Christians -knew, and secretly at
night with my connivance fed her. My school-girls also learned of it. Such a
secret is difficult to hide. One of the girls, -a niece of Osongo, revealed
it to another of my workmen, Matoku, a slave also of Osongo, and a professed
Christian. He, with the traitorous cowardice that makes many slaves
informers on each other as a means of enhancing their own safety with their
masters, revealed it to Ajai, Osongo's brother. Ajai, with a retinue of
servants, came to visit me in my study. He, with a wily talk about the
sadness of his brother's death, detained me, while the servants broke into
the mission premises, and, led by Matoku, captured the woman, faint with her
days and nights of exposure. I discharged Matoku from my employ, and
dismissed the niece from school. But the heathen regarded these punishments
as slight; they had obtained their object. My attempts to plead with Ajai
for the woman's life were met with undisguised admission of his fixed
purpose to kill her. With a family as prominent on the island and as wedded
to heathenism as was Osongo's, and in face of the current that set against
the woman, the influences I was able to employ, and which had at other times
resulted in saving some lives accused of witchcraft, proved ineffectual. I
was privately told tbat she was to be put into a boat and carried out to sea
so as to prevent any interference I might possibly attempt. With a spy-glass
I saw a native boat shoot rapidly out from beyond a point of land half a
mile distant. The rowers rested on their oars when they reached deep water.
She was seized; her head held over the gunwale, her throat cut, and her
lifeless body cast into the sea.
She had a son, a stout lad. Ajai, fearing that he might live to avenge his
mother's death, had ordered him also to be killed as an accomplice with her
in the bewitching of Osongo. The tragedy that was being enacted on the beach
behind the point of land from which had issued the boat I did not see; but I
was told that the lad was seized, his hands and limbs tied to a stake, where
be was slowly burned to death. A crowd sat on the beach jeering him, and
amused themselves by tying little packets of gunpowder to different parts of
his body, enjoying the sight of his struggles as the packets exploded in
succession.
Undeniably there is much jugglery and conscious deception on the part of the
magic doctors. How much they really believe in what they say or do no one
has been able to discover; they assert that they are under supernatural
influences, and have power given from supernatural sources. Rarely are any
of this priest class converted to Christianity. A few have professed
conversion, and have made a general acknowledgment of sinfulness; but they
did not like to talk, about their divinations; they called them
"foolishness." But evidently there was something about those divinations of
which they seemed ashamed and which they wished to forget. Only one have I
met who would talk on the subject, and she believed she had been under
satanic influence, - not simply as all wicked thoughts are satanic in their
ebaracter and inspiration, but that she bad actually been under satanic
possession, and was given by the devil more than mere human power.
Certainly, if there is in civilized jugglery, fortune-telling, clairvoyance,
divining, spirit-rappings, theosophy, et id omne genus, nothing more than
sleight of hand, alert observation of facial expression, and mind-reading,
the African conjurer almost equals the civilized professional. The native
magician does and tells some wonderful things. In one of my congregations an
educated woman, a widow, who had only one child, a son grown to young
manhood, had subsequently lived in succession with four other men, three of
whom were white, who had either died or deserted her; and she supposed
herself past child-bearing. She contracted a secret marriage with a white
gentleman, but of it positively nothing was known or even suspected by any
one. She confessed to me that one day, being a visitor in a distant place
where she was not known, she, out of mere curiosity, hired a magician to
divine her future. He looked into his magic mirror, and, among many other
things which be could shrewdly have guessed in a quick study of her
character as revealed in her looks, manner, and language, surprised her by
describing a white man (whom he had never seen) who, he asserted, was deeply
attached to her, and by whom she would become the mother of two children.
She suppressed her surprise, and told him that though married four times,
she had borne no child in eighteen years. He nevertheless asserted, "I see
them in your womb."
Within five years from that time she did have two untimely births by her
white husband. She told me in her confession that he knew nothing of them,
they being miscarriages. She had suppressed from him the fact of her
pregnancy. When subsequently she united with the church, she made these
revelations only to me as her pastor, to save herself from public rebuke.
At another time a woman in Gabun became very anxious about a brother of hers
who was trading on the Ogowe River, at a place at least three hundred miles
distant; no news had come of him. Evil news always flies fast and is always
spread publicly. She went to a magician. Divining, he said, "Your brother is
dead." "But where? What? When did be die?" "Only recently. I see his body
lying bleeding." And he described the wounds, the locality on the river, the
time, and other details of a country where he had never been. Two months
later news did come, and it agreed in time, place, and circumstances with
the divination.
Such things occur in civilized lands. They are accounted for without any
reference to, or belief in, demoniac or even supernatural causes or
influences. We call such recondite knowledge telepathy, and leave it for
psychologists to study its character and application. It has no religious
significance or use. The most devout Christian may believe in it or be
subject to its operation. Other cases of telepathy in Africa I have been
told of, that had no fetich nor any divination of magic doctor connected
with them; but the natives attributed them to some unknown spirit-influence.
An outcome of the witchcraft of fetichism, demonolatry, though not
necessarily identical with demoniacal possession, intimately associates
itself with it as a part of its development. For the Negro belief in such
possession there is good basis. The Bible recognizes the possibility of
human beings in their free agency making pacts with the devil, in virtue of
which he was allowed, under divine administration, to share with them some
of his supernatural power as prince of the power of darkness, and god of
this world. Such pacts were condemned by Jehovah as unholy. Those who made
them were called witches and wizards; such transgressors were directed to be
destroyed. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" [1] (a command that does
not necessarily prove that the professed diabolical compact was always a
real one. The mere professing to have satanic companionship and aid was an
offence heinous to Jehovah's theocratic government of his people.)
But the witch of Endor [2] certainly was a reality; she did "bring up " real
departed spirits; perhaps only on that one occasion, and then only by direct
divine and not satanic power and will, and for a divine object. She herself
seems to have been surprised [3] at the real success of divinations which
formerly may have been, in her hands, only deceptions.
[1. Ex. xxii. 18.
2 1 Sam. xxvii. 11-15.
3 Verse 12.]
My native heathen chiefs have good precedent for their witchcraft
executions. New England history cannot wipe out the fact of the Salem
witchcraft trials.
Demoniac possessions in supposed lunatics are possible; they were actual and
numerous in Palestine during the ministry of Christ. Satan was "loosed" with
unusual power, that the Son of God in his contest with him could give to the
world convincing proof of his divine origin and authority, even the devils
being subject to him. lf demoniacal possessions are possible during a term
of years, they are equally possible for a few hours; they never were nor are
made by Satan for a good purpose. God, in the days of Christ, for the
special purpose of the time, overruled them for the defence of his kingdom;
since then, in the hearts of evil men, their advent is only for evil and by
evil.
If in Christian lands the encbantments of the hoodoo are only jugglery and
nothing else, it may be that Satan's power is limited under the broad light
of Christianity. But in heathen lands, where for ages Satan's power has not
only been accepted but also sought, I am disposed to believe that some
apparent cases of lunacy are real possessions by Satan, in which cases both
the physical disease and its associated mental aberration are the effect of
the possession. In lunacy pure and simple the mental aberration is the
effect of disease alone, - some mental or physical injury.
The possibility of a permanent possession by Satan being admitted, it is
easily possible that the fetich doctors or priestesses may be temporarily
entered into by satanic power, and that some wonderful things they do and
say while endowed with that power are used by the devil to blind men's minds
against the truth.
It may be, therefore, that the missionary in his contest with heathenism has
literally to fight with the devil, with principalities and powers in high
places, and needs weapons more subtle than Martin Luther's inkstand. If so,
he puts his preaching and his work at a disadvantage in deriding the
witchcraft side of fetichism, revealed in black art, as simply "folly," and
reprehensible only as a superstition. It is more than that; it is
wickedness, -spiritual wickedness in high places. While it is true that it
has much that is mere jugglery and charlatanism, it is quite possible that
it may have something that is diabolically real.
But all this does not fully justify my Negro chief in putting to death his
slave, who may or may not have been more than self-deceived and deceiving,
who may or may not have had a temporary satanic possession, who may or may
not have been guilty of murder before the bar of God or man. That chief and
all his assistants in the execution, and all other users of the black art,
bad, in the beginning of their fetich life, been users of only the defensive
white art; had inevitably grown into the use of the offensive black art, and
in all probability at some time or other had used divinations, with and by
the aid of witchcraft doctors, for the destruction of others in a similar
way and under the same motives as those admitted by my poor slave woman.
My chief's argument syllogized would be: Whoever kills should be killed;
this woman has killed; therefore she should be killed. His first premise
stands; but neither be nor any of his people had a right to use it;
consistently, be and all his should themselves have been at the same bar
with the woman; they either had done, or would some day be doing, just what
they were charging her with doing. His second premise may or may not have
been true; certainly, the only one who could know whether it was true was
the accused herself, and she may have been self-deceived; and her confession
should have no standing in court, having been forced under torture. I could
not therefore admit his conclusion; and I think that, had the Master stood
visibly on Corisco Island that day, He would have said, "He that is without
sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."
CHAPTER X
FETICHISM -A GOVERNMENT
IN civilization, under governments other than autocratic, law being made and
executed, at least professedly, with the consent of the governed, all
enactments find not only their justification, but also the possibility of
their enforcement, in their support by public opinion. It is the general
consensus as to the need of an enactment regarding certain conditions
affecting the lives or happiness or rights of the majority, that
crystallizes opinions into a form of words, and gives authority for the
enforcement of the decisions expressed by those words.
This is also partly true even under governments more or less despotic, where
the will of the ruler, not of the ruled, is made the basis of law. Few
despots are so utterly tyrannical as deliberately to arouse opposition on
the Part of their subjects. Even a Nero, who would refuse a petition if it
happened to run counter to his whim or caprice of the day, would grant that
same petition if it happened to coincide with his own whim of another day.
Even he thought it desirable to pander to the public taste for the
buteberies of the amphitbeatre, not simply because be himself enjoyed them.
Though be could initiate no measure for the real good of Rome, he recognized
the necessity of responding to the cry, "panem et circenses."
In all governments fear is recognized as one of the grounds for the
enforcement of law. In even the freest nations and under the highest form of
civilization the public opinion that administers law makes its demand partly
in the interest of essential right, partly with the instinct of self-
preservation against the forces of evil, and partly for the punishment of
wrong. Punishment in itself is not reformatory; it is retributive; it is
deterrent; it plays upon fear.
In the native African tribal forms of government, while it would not be true
to say that there is no justice in the customs they recognize, it is true
that the only sentiment appealed to, in the enforcement and even in the
enactment of supposed needed measures, is that of fear. Their religion being
one of fear, it is therefore appealed to to lend its sanction and aid.
"Fetiches are set up to punish offenders in certain cases where there is an
intention to make a law specially binding; this refers more particularly to
crimes which cannot always be detected. A fetich is inaugurated, for
example, to detect and punish certain kinds of theft; persons who are
cognizant to such crimes, and who do not give information, are also liable
to be punished by the fetich. The fetich is supposed to be able not only to
detect all such transgressions, but has power, likewise, to punish the
transgressor. How it exercises this knowledge, or by what means it brings
sickness and death upon the offender, cannot, of course, be explained; but,
as it is believed in, it is the most effectual restraint that can possibly
be imposed upon evil-disposed persons." [1]
Among the Negro tribes of the Bight of Benin and the Bantu of the region of
Corisco Island and of the Ogowe River, in what is now the Kongo-Frangais,
there was a power known variously as Egbo, Ukuku, and Yasi, which tribes,
native chiefs, and headmen of villages invoked as a court of last appeal,
for the passage of needed laws, or the adjudication of some quarrel which an
ordinary family or village council was unable to settle.
In those councils an offender could be proved guilty of a debt or theft, or
other trespass, and when it was no longer possible for him by audacity or
mendacity to persist in his assertion of innocence, he would yield to the
decision of the great majority against him. But there was no central
[1. Wilson, Western Africa, p. 275.]
government to enforce that decision or exact from him restitution. The only
authority the native chiefs possessed was based on respect due to age,
parental position, or strength of personal character. If an offender chose
to disregard all these considerations, an appeal was then made to his
superstitious fear.
Egbo, Ukuku, Yasi, was a secret society composed only of men, boys being
initiated into it about the age of puberty. Members were bound by a terrible
oath and under pain of death to obey any law or command issued by the spirit
under which the society professed to be organized. The actual, audible
utterance of the command was by the voice of one of the members of the
society chosen as priest for that purpose. This man, secreted in the forest,
in a clump of bushes on the outskirts of the village, or in one of the rooms
of the Council House, disguised his voice, speaking only gutturally. The
whole proceeding was an immense fiction; they believed in spirits and in the
power of fetich charms, and they made such charms part of the society's
ceremonies; but, as to the decisions, all the members knew that the decision
in any case was their own, not a spirit's. They knew that the voice speaking
was that of their delegate, not of a spirit. Yet for any one of them, or for
any woman, girl, or uninitiated boy, to assert as much would have been
death. And those men who would not have submitted to the same decision if
arrived at in open council of themselves as men, and known before the whole
village to be speaking only as men, would instantly submit when once the
case had been taken to Ukuku's Court. They carried out that fiction all
their lives. Let a man order his wives and other slaves to clear the
overgrown village paths, they might hesitate to obey by inventing some
excuse that they were too much occupied with other work, or that they would
do it only when other people who also used the same path should assist; or
if under the sting of a kasa-nguvu (lash of hippopotamus hide or manatus
skin) they started to do the work, they might do it only partly or very
unsatisfactorily. But let the man call in the other men of the village and
summon a meeting of the society, the recalcitrants would submit instantly,
and in terror of Ukuku's voice; much as they might possibly have suspected
it was a human voice, they would not dare whisper the suspicion. They helped
to carry on a gigantic lie. They taught their little children, both girls
and boys, that the voice belonged to a spirit which ate people who disobeyed
him. When the society walked in procession to or from their appointed
rendezvous, they were preceded by runners who, with a well-recognized cry
and with kasa-nguvu in hand, warned all on the path of the coming of the
spirit. Women and children hastened to get out of the way; or, if unable to
hide in time, they averted their faces. The penalty when a woman even saw
the procession was a severe beating; that, however, might be commuted to a
fine.
About thirty-nine years ago, on the island of Corisco, the then headquarters
of the Corisco Mission, there was a longstanding feud between the Benga
tribe, inhabiting that island, and the Kombe tribe, dwelling at the mouth of
the Eyo River, of the Benita country, fifty miles to the north. Benita was
also a part of the mission field. The quarrel between the two tribes greatly
obstructed our mission work. Missionaries were entirely safe in travel
between the two places, respect being given them as foreigners, and their
presence in a boat protected their crews; but it was often difficult to
obtain a crew willing to go on the journey without the presence of a white
man. The difficulties caused by the feud fell heavily also on the Benga
people themselves. The island itself had no products for trade; ivory, dye-
woods, and rubber came from the Benita mainland. Many Kombe women had
married Benga men, and needed frequently to revisit their own country.
Finally, to end the feud, it was agreed that the Kombe Ukuku Society, whose
power was held in even greater fear than that of Benga, should come to
Corisco and settle the affair.
It was a day of terror at the Girls' Boarding School, of which I was then
superintendent. As the long, blood curdling yell of the forerunners on the
public path, that ran only one hundred feet from the school dwelling,
announced the approach of the procession, the girls fled, affrighted, to the
darkness of the attic of the house. After the procession had passed, they
ran away secretly in byways to their own villages, feeling safer in the
darkness of their mother's buts than in the mission-house; for it had been
reported that Ukuku, besides settling the tribal feud, intended to attack
the mission work that bad been successfully making converts among the Kombe,
because any native who became a Christian immediately withdrew from
membership in the society. It had therefore begun to feel a little anxious
about its safety. I stood at my door and saw the procession pass; they saw
me, but, because of my sex, they did not show any displeasure. They were
painted with white and other colored chalks that gave a horrible expression
to their faces; their look was defiant, and a hoarse, muttered cbant had,
even on myself, a depressing effect. I could well imagine that to a
superstitious native mind the tout ensemble would be terrifying.
The procession on its way chose to pass over a road that bad by use become
somewhat public, but which was owned by the mission; it was only fifty feet
past the front door of the house of the senior missionary, the Rev. James L.
Mackey. Mrs. Mackey was standing at the door of the house; not being a Benga
woman, she saw no reason why she should retire before Ukuku, and stood her
ground. Ukuku went to their rendezvous in a rage, and the Kombe portion
demanded the life of the woman who not only had not hidden her face in their
presence, but had dared persistently to look upon them. This demand was
modified by the Benga portion to a fine; its alternative, whipping, not even
they daring to suggest for a white lady. This demand for a fine was actually
brought to Mr. Mackey, who gave a dignified reply, pointing out that, as
foreigners, white people were not subject to Ukuku; that Ukuku had
trespassed on mission private property, and was itself responsible for being
seen; that, as a Christian, in no case could he recognize the authority of
Ukuku to order or fine him. In reply, Ukuku made the point that it was the
government of the.country, and that even foreigners were bound to obey law.
(Corisco actually belonged to Spain, but Spain in no way exercised any
visible authority over it.)
They admitted their trespass on private property, but still demanded the
fine. Mr. Mackey made no further reply; and of course, as a matter of
conscience, refused to pay the fine. But it transpired afterwards that
native friends, fearful lest matters should come to an ugly pass through his
refusal, privately paid the fine themselves. The missionary, unaware of
this, thought he had triumphed; really Ukuku bad, but not unqualifiedly, for
it was a shock to its power that it should have been disputed at all, even
by a white man.
About the same time a young slave man who was beginning to attend church
with desire to become a Christian, was sitting in a village where was being
held a meeting of the local Ukuku Society. The object of the meeting was to
alarm and drive back to a more constant performance of fetich observances
some of the villages on which heathenism was beginning to lose its hold. In
the course of his oracular deliverances the Ukuku priest mentioned by name
this young man. In his fresh zeal as a convert he made a protest; perhaps
duty did not call for even that just at the time, but be even went beyond.
As he was able to recognize the voice, though disguised, and knew who its
owner was, be made a fatal mistake in saying, "You, such-a-one, I know who
You are; you are only a man; why are you troubling me?" He was promptly
dragged to the seaside and decapitated.
While converts felt the propriety of abandoning their membership in the
society and any participation in its ceremonies, the mission bad not
required of them nor deemed it desirable that they -should make a revelation
of its secrets. But it had occurred in the early history of the mission that
one young man, Ibia, a freeman, member of a prominent family, had felt that
in breaking awayfrom heathenism and becoming a Christian he should cast off
the very semblance of any Connection with evil or even tacit endorsement of
it. He knew the society was based on a great falsehood. As a lad be had
believed Ukuku was a spirit; on his initiation he had found that this was
not so; but loyal to his heathenism and to his oath, he had assented to the
lie and had assisted in propagating it. He was known for the fearlessness of
his convictions, and in his conversion be to a rare degree emerged from all
superstitious beliefs. Few emerge so utterly as he. He therefore publicly
began to reveal the ceremonies practised in the Ukuku meetings. At once his
life was in danger. The two pioneer missionaries, Rev. Messrs. Mackey and
Clemens, were men of exceptional strength of character and wise judgment,
and had obtained a very strong hold on the respect and affection even of the
heathen. Their influence, united with a small party of Ibia's own family and
a few of the more . civilized chiefs, was able to save his life, he being
guarded in the mission-house until the fierceness of heathen rage should
abate. But, though his enemies presently ceased from open efforts to kill
him by force, they proclaimed that they would kill him by means of the very
witchcraft power he was despising. They said they would concoct fetich
charms which would destroy the life of his child, and that they would curse
the ground on which be trod so that it should sicken his feet. Not long
afterwards his infant child did die, and one of his feet for more than a
year had a painful ulcer. The coincidence was startling, and somewhat
triumphant for the heathen; but infant mortality is large even among
natives, and pbagedenic ulcers of the leg are very common. lbia recognized
his afflictions as a trial of his faith permitted by God. He came out of his
fiery trial strong, and his life since has been that of a reformer,
uncompromising with any evil, earning from his own people their ill-will by
his scathing denunciations of anything that savored of superstition. He
became the Rev. Ibia j'Ikenge, member of Corisco Presbytery and pastor of
the Corisco church; and Ukuka has long since ceased to exist as a power on
the island.
Like all government intended for the benefit and protection of the governed,
Ukuku, when it happened to throw its power on the side of right, was
occasionally an apparent blessing. It could end tribal quarrels and proclaim
and enforce peace where no individual chief or king would have been able to
accomplish the same result. In this connection I quote from an editorial in
a Sierra Leone newspaper:
"Much of the ideas of our western civilization as to native African
institutions have been crude and uninformed, based on misconception and a
predisposition to consider such institutions as an outcome of barbarism and
savagery, to be treated with unmitigated contempt. But as the light of
modern researches is reflected on the question by sympathetic students who
have brought an unprejudiced mind to bear on the subject, if haply they
might discover the hidden truths underlying the fabric which age, custom,
and intellect have combined to construct into a national system, it is
becoming more and more apparent to those who are interested in the material
progress of Africa and the Africans and who are believers in the fact that
native races have a civilization of their own capable of development and
expansion on right lines, that the study of such questions should be
intelligently and scientifically pursued, and with a purpose to help those
concerned in their onward progress towards the attainment of moral, social,
and intellectual liberty.
" That [some] native [governmental] institutions have wielded, and are
wielding, a power for good in the several communities belonging to each
distinctive tribe, is a fact that cannot be disputed or contested, in the
past as well as in the present. The Aro of the Yorubas [in the Niger Delta],
the Porroh of the Mendis [of Sierra Leone], and the Bondo of the mixed mass
who inhabit Sherbro-land, have and exercise judicial functions exemplary and
disciplinary in their effects. By their means law and order are observed to
such an extent that many of the unrestrained and rowdy outbursts cowardly
indulged in by so-called civilized communities and people are practically
unknown.
"These institutions are connected with and govern the agencies that work in
the sociology of all communities, such as the marriage laws; the relation of
children to parents and of sex to sex; social laws; the position of
eldership and the deference to be paid to age and worth; native herbs and
medicines, and the duties of the native doctor to the other members of the
community."
On one occasion in 1861 the Rev. William Clemens took a young Benga man from
Corisco Island to locate him as evangelist in the bounds of a mainland
heathen tribe where there was some doubt as to the young man's safety. The
village chief, though a heathen and entirely uninterested in the religious
aspect of the case, was alive to the fact that the presence among his people
of this young protégé of the white man would increase his tribal importance,
and that his people themselves would derive a pecuniary benefit from even
the small amount of money that would be spent on the evangelist's food. He
therefore voluntarily offered to call an Ukuku meeting and have a law
enacted that no one should machinate against the Benga's life by fetiches of
any kind. Mr. Clemens declined the offer. If he accepted Ukuku's authority
to defend him, he might some day be called on to submit to the same power as
an authority to punish him. He wisely avoided an entangling alliance. He
told the chief that he preferred to entrust his protégé to his care and to
rely on his promise rather than on Ukuku's. This compliment put the chief on
his mettle; the evangelist's protection became to him a case of noblesse
oblige.
The power of this society was often used as a boycott to compel white
traders as to the prices of their goods, using intimidation and violence
after the manner of trades unions in civilized countries. This was true all
along the West Coast of Africa wherever no white government had been
established. It ceased at Libreville, in the Gabun country, after the
establishment of a French colony in 1843, with a white governor, a squad of
soldiers, police, and a gunboat. Also at other trade centres such as
Libreville, Ukuku early lost its position, for the population was too
heterogeneous and there were too many diverse interests. At the large
trading-houses were gathered native clerks and a staff of servants as cooks,
personal attendants, boatmen, etc., representing a score of tribes from
distant parts of the coast. Whatever obedience they gave to similar
societies in their tribes, they did not feel bound by the local one, to
which they were strangers; and they were disposed, under a community of
trade interests with their employers, to disregard the society of the local
tribe, to many of whom they felt themselves socially superior.
But at Batanga, in what is now the Kamerun colony of the German Government,
the Ukuku Society forty years ago carried itself with a high hand. Batanga
was not then claimed by any European nation, and the number of white men
were few. Its trade in ivory was one of the richest on the West Coast of
Africa, - so rich that the Batariga people became. arrogant. Some of them
disdained to make plantations of native food supply, and lived almost
entirely on foreign imported provisions, taking in exchange for their
abundant ivory barrels of beef, bags of rice, and boxes of ship's biscuit.
It was a case of demand and supply. The native got what he wanted in goods,
and the white man obtained the precious ivory. But in the competitions of
trade, fluctuations in the market, and the growing demand of the natives for
a higher price, there came days when some white man, seeing the margin of
his per cent of gain becoming too narrow, refused the current price.
Doubtless often the white men were arbitrary, not only in prices but also in
other matters. Doubtless, also, the natives were often exorbitant in their
demands. - When the differences became extreme, the native chiefs called in
the aid of Ukuku. The phrase was to "put Ukuku" on the white man's house.
The trader was boycotted. He stood as under a major excommunication. No one
should buy from, or sell to him. No one should work for him. He was deserted
by cook, steward, washerman, and all other personal attendants. Sentinels
stood on guard to prevent food being brought to him, or even to prevent his
lighting a fire in his own kitchen if he sbould'attempt to cook for himself.
The white trader generally succeeded in breaking down the interdict put upon
him by these means, viz. (1) He had in his house a supply of canned goods
and ship's biscuit, with which he would not starve. (2) His Negro mistress
almost always remained faithfully with him, secretly assisting him,
divulging to him the plans of her own people, -as in the history of Cortes
and the conquest of Mexico. She dared to do this, being tacitly upheld by
her own family. The position of "wife" to a white man was considered by the
natives an honorable one, and was sought by parents for their daughters. It
was an exceptional source of wealth for them. (3) If other means failed, the
trader could almost always break the boycott by bribes of rum. Time was
money to him; often, indeed, in a malarial country it was life to him.
Though time was worth nothing to the natives, the rum they had learned to
love became, a necessity to them. In cutting the white man from their ivory,
they had cut themselves from the white man's rum. A judicious expenditure of
demijohns in proper quarters generally enabled Ukuku to revoke his own law.
Then, perhaps, the white man would make some slight concession.
I had an experience of this kind in the Benita. country in 1868. 1 had been
there several years. There was growth in the desire for the good things that
money can buy, but wages and prices had remained unchanged. I was obtaining
all I needed of both labor and food without difficulty. Had I had any
difficulty, I should naturally have offered more inducement. I was not aware
that there was any discontent. None of my employees had asked for a rise,
nor had people, in selling their produce, complained of the price I gave.
Suddenly, one morning, a company of about twenty men, led by an ambitious
heathen whose manner had always been dictatorial to me and to whom I had
shown no favor, filed into the public meeting-room of our mission-house. I
knew them all; none were in my employ, nor were any of them Christians. As
if they thought it was hopeless to attempt to obtain anything from me by
petition or respectful request, they seemed to have decided to stake all on
a demand and threat. They suddenly and harshly began, "We've come to order
you to change prices." Naturally I felt nettled and replied that I saw no
reason why I should take orders from them. They rose in a rage and said,
"Then we'll put Ukuku on you - (1) no one shall work for you; (2) no one
shall sell you food or drink; (3) you shall not go yourself to your spring;"
and with a savage yell they left the house. Instantly a great terror fell on
the native members of my household. Those who were heathen dropped work and
went to their villages. Those who were Christians came to me distressed,
saying that they desired to obey me, but they feared the interdict. I
relieved the situation for them by excusing them from further work " till I
should call them," and refrained from ringing the call-bell at the usual
work hour.
With me were Mrs. Nassau, our child's nurse, my sister Miss I. A. Nassau,
and two native girls, members of another tribe. Nurse was a foreigner, a
Christian Liberian woman, who was not amenable to the interdict. Some of my
Christian employees, though not working, remained on the premises. A few
visitors came in the afternoon, - some, as sincere friends, to sympathize;
some in curiosity, to see how we were feeling; and some as spies, to see
what we were doing. The interdict, except as an expression of ill-will and a
possible check to my mission work, did not trouble me. As to food, I had an
ample supply of canned provisions, sufficient for a long siege. In refusing
to sell me their native products, the people would miss more than I should.
As to work, the cleaning of the premises was not pressing and could safely
be neglected. As to drinking-water, enough could be caught from the roof in
the almost daily rains. Food and labor were their own, to refuse if they
chose. But the spring was on my premises and belonged to me. To refrain from
going to it might be deemed cowardice; at least it would be obeying an order
of what Ukuku claimed was a spirit. An order from men I might submit to
under compulsion; to submit to this spirit went against my conscience. After
prayer and consideration overnight, Mrs. Nassau fully agreed with me that it
was right I should make a demonstration at the spring. In parting with her
next morning, as I took up a bucket to go to the spring, she knew I might
not return alive. A sandy path led through low bushes to the spring, several
hundred yards distant. I saw no one on the way nor at the spring. I filled
the bucket and was turning homeward, when a spy, armed with a spear, jumped
out of his ambush and ordered me to leave the water. As I did not do so, but
started to walk over the path, he stabbed at my back. I thrust the spear
aside and faced him, but walking backward all the time kept my eye steadily
on his. He feared my eye (most native Africans cannot stand a white man's
fixed look) and did not attempt to stab me in front, but tried to spill the
water in the bucket and stab me from behind. But the bucket and its contents
I guarded, as he struck at it from right to left, by rapidly changing it
from left to right with one hand and warding off the spear with the other.
Still walking backward, and keeping my eye on him, the bucket and I reached
the house in safety.
He hastened to the native villages, whence soon I heard a great outcry. A
company of Christian natives came in haste, saying that Ukuku was on his way
to assault the house, and that they and other young men, even some who were
not Christians, would fight for me against their heathen parents if I could
provide them powder. I supplied them. Then they bade me hasten and fasten
all doors and windows.
The mission dwelling consisted of two houses joined by a covered veranda, -
one, a one-storied bamboo; the other framed of boards, one and a half story.
Mrs. Nassau was in the latter, closing it. Before I had finished closing the
former, the enemies came, and I was alone in the bamboo house. Shots rattled
against the walls. Through the chinks I could see the young men were
guarding all entrances and firing. I think that in this difficult situation,
defending me against their own people, they purposely fired wide, for no one
was even wounded. But their armed stand checked the enemies, who then soon
retired. In after years these were ashamed of their assault, and tried to
minimize it, when it was related to new missionaries, by representing that
they did not intend to kill me. I accepted that as a kindly afterthought.
Certainly the spy at the spring intended, and tried hard, to kill me.
Certainly, also, their gunshots left their marks on the walls of the bamboo
house, and, for aught they knew, had penetrated the thin walls and might
have struck me.
That their interdict had been successfully broken, and that, too, by the aid
of their own sons, was a great blow to the Ukuku party. It was the beginning
of the end of its power. Four years later, while I was absent on my
furlough, the number of the church-members having largely increased, two
young men, themselves of strong character and imbued with the courage of my
able sutcessor at Benita, Rev. Samuel Howell Murphy, deliberately determined
to "reveal Ukuku." They walked through a village street openly shouting to
the women that "Ukuku is only a man." At once their lives were demanded; but
so many of their companions stood up for them, and said to their fathers,
"The day you kill those two you will have to kill all of us, for we all say
also that Ukuku is only a person," that Ukuku was amazed. Nevertheless the
society met. But when the members looked in each other's faces, each one
knew that in voting to put to death the other men's sons, he was voting also
against his own son. The society could have dared to kill one or two, but to
kill a score! They shrank from it. Every one thought of his own son thus
involved, and the great lie was exposed and died.
In 1879, on the Ogowe River, at my interior station, Kāngwe, near the town
of Lambarene, one hundred and thirty miles up the course of the river, I had
a similar experience with that same society, known there in the Galwa tribe
by the name of Yasi.
In my new work on the Ogowe, I pursued toward that society the same course I
had followed with Ukuku at Benita. I preached simply the gospel of Christ;
but it is true that the gospel touches mankind in all their human relations.
I therefore was not silent about such sins as slavery and polygamy, any more
than 1 would be silent about the sins of drunkenness or theft. All these
were practices the evil of which in serious moments most natives would
admit, however much they chose still to persist in them. But witchcraft was
their religion; they believed in it. To attack it openly would only offend,
and I would lose the personal influence which I was able to exercise in
quiet, private discussions. Yasi, though a falsehood, was their government.
To attack it would have simply emptied my church of every heathen audit or,
and would have debarred any women or children from receiving further
instruction. I could afford to bide my time, for the entering wedge of
Christian principles to overthrow what I could never have removed by direct
onslaught. In conversations with my heathen friends, the native chiefs, in
their own houses, when no women or children happened to be present, I would
expostulate with them against such a mode of government. I told them I would
render them respect and even obedience, if as persons they should enact laws
affecting me as a person, but that I could give neither respect nor
obedience to what they knew I knew was a lie. They looked troubled, and
replied, "Yes, that's so, but don't tell it to the women." And I did not.
Neverthe less, in my untrammelled, conversations in the mission-house with
my own Christian male employees, I was not careful to be silent if our
school-boys happened to be present; and these same employees in their own
dormitories deliberately and intentionally told the boys of the falsities of
their tribal superstitions. They were right. This was Christian principle,
working as I desired it should. Inevitably there grew up a generation of
lads who began to deride Yasi, and said that they would never join the
society. There came one day a delegation of them led by two Christian young
men, Māmbā and Nguva, asking my permission to play a mock Yasi meeting. I
asked them, Will you dare to play that same play in your own villages? "No,
we would be afraid." "Then don't do here what you are unable to carry out
elsewhere. I cannot defend you in your own villages. You are safe here; wait
until you are stronger and more numerous. Just now your play will create
confusion." Nevertheless they did play, with the result which I had
foretold. The chiefs were deeply enraged. They "put Yasi" on my house, which
meant that I was not to be visited nor sold any food. There was a report,
also, that the mission premises were to be assaulted with guns. The loss of
food supply was a serious difficulty. I did not need any for myself and
sister, nor for the two young missionaries, both of them laymen who were
visiting me from a sea-coast station, and who could not understand the case
in all its aspects, for they had never met with the society's power; it did
not exist at their station, having been broken before they came to Africa.
But how was I to feed thirty hungry school-boys? I had to send most of them
away to their distant homes down the river; and my canoes returned with a
temporary food supply that they had been able to buy at places on the route
where news of the interdict had not as yet been officially carried.
The dozen young men who remained with me I armed with guns obtained from a
neighboring trading-house, and I posted sentinels every night to guard
against sudden assault. I went to the native villages and met a council of
several chiefs. They seemed desirous to keep on friendly terms with myself,
but they were angry at their own children. They took me to task for my
warlike preparations. These I told them were for defence, that I would use
the guns only when they compelled me to do so. Then they complained that 1
had taught their children to disobey them. I denied, stating that one of the
greatest of God's commands which I had taught them was to honor their
parents. But I added that the Father in Heaven claimed priority even to an
earthly parent; and how could children really honor parents who were
persistently deceiving them about Yasi, who they knew was only a person?
They winced, and looking towards some women who were passing by, said,
"Don't speak so loud, the women will hear you." They made another complaint,
viz., that I was trying to change their customs; they bade me leave them
alone in their customs; I could keep my white customs, and they would keep
theirs. I frankly told them that I would be pleased to see some of their
customs which were evil changed, but that neither I nor any other missionary
could compel them to change; that, nevertheless, these customs would be
changed in their and my own lifetime. They were terribly aroused, and swore
"Never! never! You can't change them." "No, not I; but they will be
changed." "Never! Who can or who will do it?" "Your own sons." Then we will
kill our own sons."
They seemed to transfer their anger against me to their own children. The
interdict against my house was not formally removed, but it was not rigidly
enforced. I no longer felt it necessary to post sentinels at night, and
secretly, at night, a sister of one of these very chiefs sold me food for my
family. But the heathen rage spread down the river to the villages of the
disbanded school children and native Christians. One of these, Nguva, was
seized, chained, and offered to Yasi "to be eaten." He was rescued by a
daring expedition made by my two lay missionary visitors, who went in my
six-oared gig with my twelve enthusiastic young native Christian workmen.
They went fifteen miles down river, were secretly directed by one of the
little school-boys to the village where Nguva was chained in stocks,
assaulted the village at the mid-afternoon hour, when almost all the men
were away, cut Nguva from the stocks, and brought him in triumph to my
house. But in their retreat up the river they had for a distance of five
miles been subjected to a fusillade of native guns from both sides of the
river. The river was wide, and they kept in mid-stream, and no one was
injured. But the consequences of that resort to arms made me much trouble
after my visitors had safely returned to their seaside station. According to
native law, I, and not my guests, was held as the responsible party, and the
affair was not satisfactorily settled until some months afterward.
My prophecy came true; less than ten years later little children were
playing Yasi as amusement in the village streets. Nguva became an elder in
the church. He is now dead. His chain is a trophy in the Foreign Board's
Museum, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
Malmbā still lives, working faithfully as a church elder and evangelist.
CHAPTER XI
THE FETICH -ITS RELATION TO THE FAMILY
IN most tribes of the Bantu the unit in the constitution of the community is
the family, not the individual. However successful a man may be in trade,
hunting, or any other means of gaining wealth, he cannot, even if he would,
keep it all to himself. He must share with the family, whose indolent
members thus are supported by the more energetic or industrious. I often
urged my civilized employees not to spend so promptly, almost on pay-day
itself, their wages in the purchase of things they really did not need. I
represented that they should lay by "for a rainy day." But they said that if
it was known that they had money laid up, their relatives would give them no
peace until they had compelled them to draw it and divide it with them. They
all yielded to this, -the strong, the intelligent, the diligent, submitting
to their family, though they knew that their hard-earned pay was going to
support weakness, heathenism, and thriftlessness.
Not only financial rights, but all other individual rights and
responsibilities, were absorbed by the superior right and duty of the
family. If an individual committed theft, murder, or any other crime, the
offended party would, if convenient, lay hold of him for punishment. But
only if it was convenient; to this plaintiff justice in the case was fully
satisfied if any member of the offender's family could be caught or killed,
or, if the offence was great, even any member of the offender's tribe.
Families recognized this custom as proper, and submitted to it; for the
family expected to stand by and assist and defend all its members, whether
right or wrong. Each member relied upon the family for escape from personal
punishment, or for help in their individual weakness or inability.
In getting a wife, for instance, no young man had saved up enough to buy
one. His wages or other gains, year after year, beyond what he had
squandered on himself, had been squandered on members of his family. The
family therefore all contributed to the purchase of the wife. Though he
thenceforth owned her as his wife, the family had claims on her for various
services and work which neither he nor she could refuse.
If in the course of time he had accumulated other women as a polygamist,
and, subsequently becoming a Christian, was required to put away all but one
(according to missionary rule), it was difficult for him to do so, not
because of any special affection for the women involved in the dismissal,
nor for pity of any hardship that might come to the women themselves. True,
they would be a pecuniary loss to him; but his Christianity, if sincere,
could accept that. And the dismissal of the extra women does not, in Africa,
impose on them special shame, nor any hardship for self-support, as in some
other countries. The real trouble is that they are not his to dismiss
without family consent. The family had a pecuniary claim on them, and the
heathen members thereof are not willing to let them go free back to their
people. If this man puts them away, he must give them to some man or men in
the family pale who probably already are polygamists. The property must be
kept in the family inheritance. Thus, though attempting to escape from
polygamy himself, this man would be a consenting party in fastening it on
others. His offence before the church therefore would still be much the
same.
For such concentrated interests as are represented in the family, there
naturally would be fetiches to guard those interests separate from the
individual fetich with its purely personal interests.
Respect for the family fetich is cognate to the worship of the spirits of
ancestors. Among the Barotse of South Africa, for this worship, "they have
altars in their huts made of branches, on which they place human bones, but
they have no images, pictures, or idols."
Among the Mpongwe tribes of Western Equatorial Africa, "the profound respect
for aged persons, by a very natural operation of the mind, is turned into
idolatrous regard for them when dead. It is not supposed that they are
divested of their power and influence by death, but, on the contrary, they
are raised to a higher and more powerful sphere of influence, and hence the
natural disposition of the living, and especially those related to them in
any way in this world, to look to them, and call upon them for aid in all
the emergencies and trials of life. It is no uncommon thing to see large
groups of men and women, in times of peril or distress, assembled along the
brow of some commanding eminence or along the skirts of some dense forest,
calling in the most piteous and touching tones upon the spirits of their
ancestors.
"Images are used in the worship of ancestors, but they are seldom exposed to
public view. They are kept in some secret corner, and the man who has them
in charge, especially if they are intended to represent a father or
predecessor in office, takes food and drink to them, and a'very small
portion of almost anything that is gained in trade.
"But a yet more prominent feature of this ancestral worship is to be found
in the preservation and adoration of the bones of the dead, which may be
fairly regarded as a species of relic worship. The skulls of distinguished
persons are preserved with the utmost care, but always kept out of sight. I
have known the head of a distinguished man to be dissevered from the body
when it was but partly decomposed, and suspended so as to drip upon a mass
of chalk provided for the purpose. The brain is supposed to be the seat of
wisdom, and the chalk absorbs this by being placed under the head during the
process of decomposition. By applying this to the foreheads of the living,
it is supposed they will imbibe the wisdom of the person whose brain has
dripped
upon the chalk." [1]
In the Benga tribe, just north of the equator, in West Africa, this family
fetich is known by the name of Yākā. It is a bundle of parts of the bodies
of their dead. From time to time, as their relatives die, the first joints
of their fingers and toes, especially including their nails, a small
clipping from a lobe of the ear, and perhaps snippings of hair are added to
it. But the chief constituents are the finger ends. Nothing is taken from
any internal organ of the body, as in the composition of other fetiches.
This form descends by inheritance with the family. In its honor is sacredly
kept a bundle of toes, fingers, or other bones, nail clippings, eyes,
brains, etc., accumulated from deceased members of successive generations.
This is distinctly an ancestor worship.
"The worship of ancestors is a marked and distinguishing characteristic of
the religious system of Southern Africa. This is something more definite and
intelligible than the religious ceremonies performed in connection with the
other classes of spirits." [2]
What was described by Dr. Wilson as respect for the aged among the tribes of
Southern Guinea forty years ago, is true still, in a large measure, even
where foreign customs and examples of foreign traders and the practices of
foreign governments have broken down native etiquette and native patriarchal
government." Perhaps there is no part of the world where respect and
veneration for age are carried.to a greater length than among this people.
For those who are in office, and who have been successful in trade or in
war, or in any other way have rendered themselves distinguished among their
fellow-men, this respect, in some outward forms at least, amounts almost to
adoration, and proportionately so when the person has attained advanced age.
All the younger miambers of society are early trained to show the utmost
deference to age. They must never come into the
[1. Wilson, Western Africa, p. 393.
2 Ibid.]
presence of aged persons or pass by their dwellings without taking off their
hats and assuming a crouching gait. When seated in their presence, it must -
always be at a 'respectful distance'- a distance proportioned to the
difference in their ages and position in society. If they come near enough
to hand an aged man a lighted pipe or a glass of water, the bearer must
always fall upon one knee. Aged persons must always be addressed as 'father'
(rera, lale, paia) or 'mother ' (ngwe, ina). Any disrespectful deportment or
reproachful language toward such persons is regarded as a misdemeanor of no
ordinary aggravation. A youthful person carefully avoids communicating any
disagreeable intelligence to such persons, and almost always addresses them
in terms of flattery and adulation. And there is nothing which a young
person so much deprecates as the curse of an aged person, and especially
that of a revered father."
The value of the Yākā seems to lie in a combination of whatever powers were
possessed during their life by the dead, portions of whose bodies are
contained in it. But even these are of use apparently only as an actual
"medicine," the efficiency of the medicine depending on the spirits of the
family dead being associated with those portions of their bodies. This
efficiency is called into action by prayer, and by the incantations of the
doctor.
"In some cases all the bones of a beloved father or mother, having been
dried, are kept in a wooden chest, for which a small house is provided,
where the son or daughter goes statedly to bold communication with their
spirits. They do not pretend to have any audible responses from them, but it
is a relief to their minds in their more serious moods to go and pour out
all the sorrows of their hearts in the ear of a revered parent.
"This belief, however much of superstition it involves, exerts a very
powerful influence upon the social character of the people. It establishes a
bond of affection between the parent and child much stronger than could be
expected among a people wholly given up to heathenism. It teaches the child
to look up to the parent, not only as its earthly protector, but as a friend
in the spirit land. It strengthens the bonds of filial affection, and keeps
up a lively impression of a future state of being. The living prize the aid
of the dead, and it is not uncommon to send messages to them by some one who
is on the point of dying; and so greatly is this aid prized by the living
that I have known an aged mother to avoid the presence of her sons, lest she
should by some secret means be despatched prematurely to the spirit world,
for the double purpose of easing them of the burden of taking care of her,
and securing for themselves more effective aid than she could render them in
this world.
"All their dreams are construed into visits from the spirits of their
deceased friends. The cautions, hints, and warnings which come to them
through this source are received with the most serious and deferential
attention, and are always acted upon in their waking hours. The habit of
relating their dreams, which is universal, greatly promotes the habit of
dreaming itself, and hence their sleeping hours are characterized by almost
as much intercourse with the dead as their waking hours are with the living.
This is, no doubt, one of the reasons of their excessive superstitiousness.
Their imaginations become so lively that they can scarcely distinguish
between their dreams and their waking thoughts, between the real and the
ideal, and they consequently utter falsehood without intending, and profess
to see things which never existed." [1]
All that is quoted above from Dr. Wilson is still true among tribes not
touched by civilization. What be relates of the love of children for parents
and the desire to communicate with their departed spirits is particularly
true of the children of men and women who have held honorable position in
the community while they were living. And it is also all consistent with
what I have described of the fear with which the dead are regarded, and the
dread lest they should revenge some injury done them in life. The common
[1. Wilson, Western Africa.]
people, and those who have neglected their friends in any way, are the ones
who dread this. The better classes, especially of the superior tribes, hold
their dead in affectionate remembrance.
I have met with instances of the preservation of a parent's brains for
fetich purposes, as mentioned above by Dr. Wilson. As honored guest, I have
been given the best room in which to sleep overnight. On a flat stone, in a
comer of the room, was a pile of grayish substance; it was chalk mixed with
the decomposed brain-matter that had dripped on it from the skull that
formerly had been suspended above. I then remembered how, on visiting chiefs
in their villages, they frequently were not in the public reception-room on
my arrival, but I was kept awaiting them. They had been apprised of the
white man's approach, had retired to their bedrooms, and when they
reappeared, it was with their foreheads, and sometimes other parts of their
bodies, marked with that grayish mixture. The objects to be attained were
wisdom and success in any question of diplomacy or in a favor they might be
asking of the white man.
Around the doctor and his power is always a cloak of mystery which I have
not been able to solve entirely, and of which the natives themselves do not
seem to have a clear understanding. The other factors in their fetich
worship have to them a degree of clearness sufficient to make them able to
give an intelligible explanation. It is plain, for instan that the component
parts of any fetich are looked upon them as we look upon the drugs of our
materia medica. It is plain, also, that these "drugs " are operative, not as
on ours, by certain inherent chemical qualities, but by the presence of a
spirit to whom they are favorite media. And it is also clear that this
spirit is induced to act by the pleasing enchantments of the magic doctor.
But beyond this, what? Whence does the doctor get his influence? What is
there in his prayer or incantation greater than the prayer or drum or song
or magic mirror of any other person? For, admittedly, he himself is subject
to the spirits, and may be thwarted by some other more powerful spirit which
for the time being is operated by some other doctor; or he may be killed by
the very spirit he is manipulating, if he should incur its displeasure.
Belief in the necessity of having the doctor is implicit, while the
explanation of his modus operandi is vague, and he is feared lest he employ
his utilized spirit for revenge or other harmful purpose. A patient and his
relatives who call in the services of a doctor are therefore careful to obey
him, and avoid off ending him in any way.
The Yākā is appealed to in family emergencies. Suppose, for instance, that
one member has secretly done something wrong, e.g., alone in the forest, he
has met and killed a member of another family, devastated a neighbor's
plantation, or committed any other crime, and is unknown to the community as
the offender. But the powerful Yākā of the injured family has brought
disease or death, or some other affliction, on the offender's family. They
are dying or otherwise suffering, and they do not know the reason why. After
the failure of ordinary medicines or personal fetiches to relieve or heal or
prevent the continuance of the evil, the hidden Yākā is brought out by the
chiefs of the offender's family. A doctor is called in consultation; the
Yākā is to be opened, and its ancestral relic contents appealed to. At this
point the fears of the offender overcome him, and be privately calls aside
the doctor and the older members of the clan. He takes them to a quiet spot
in the forest and confesses what he has done, taking them to the garden he
had devastated, or to the spot where he had hidden the remains of the person
he had killed. If this confession were made to the public, so that the
injured family became aware of it, his own life would be at stake. But
making it to his Yākā, and to only the doctor and chosen representatives of
his family, they are bound to keep his secret; the doctor on professional
grounds, and his relatives on the grounds of family solidarity. The problem,
then, is for the doctor to make what seems like an expiation. The
explanation of this, as made to me, is vague. I am uncertain whether the
Yākā of the injured family is to be appeased or the offender's own Yākā
aroused from dormant inaction to efficient protection, or both. The Yākā
bundle is solemnly opened by the doctor in the presence of the family; a
little of the dust of its foul contents is rubbed on the foreheads of the
members present; a goat or sheep is killed, and its blood sprinkled on them,
the while they are praying audibly to the combined ancestor-power in the
Yākā. These prayers are continued all the while the doctor, who makes his
incantations long and varied, is acting. The sanctifying red-wood powder
ointment is rubbed over their bodies, and the Yākā spirit having eaten the
life essence of the sacrificed animal, its flesh is eaten by the doctor and
the family. The Yākā bundle is tied up again, and again is hidden away in
one of their buts, care being taken to add to it from the body of the member
who next dies. The curse that had fallen on them is supposed to be wiped
out, and the affliction under which they were lying is believed to be
removed.
Recently (1901) a Mpongwe man bad gone as a trader into the Batanga
interior. He was sick at the time of his going, one of his legs being
swollen with an edematous affection, so much so that people in the interior,
natives of that part of the country, and fellow-traders, wondered that he
should travel so far from his home in that condition. He said he was seeking
among different tribes for the cure he had failed to obtain in his own
tribe. Later on, be died. He happened to die alone, while others who lived
with him, one of them a relative, were temporarily out of the house. The
suddenness of the death aroused the superstitious beliefs of the relative,
and be rushed to the conclusion that it had been caused by black art
machinations of some enemy. But of the whereabouts or the personality of
that enemy be had not even a suspicion. He cut from the dead man's body the
first joints of his fingers and all the toe-nails, put them in the hollow of
a horn, and closed its opening, intending to add its contents to his family
Yākā when he should return to Gabun. Then he waved the horn to and fro
toward the spirits of the air, held it above his head, and struck it on the
back of his own neck, uttering at the same time an imprecation that as his
relative had died, so might die that very day, even as he had died, the
unknown enemy who bad caused his death.
There is another family "medicine," still used in some tribes, that was
formerly held in reverence by the Banākā. and Bapuku tribes of the Batanga
country of the German Kamerun colony. It was called "Malanda." For
description of it see Chapter XVI.
Another medicine similar to the Yākā in its family interest is called by the
Balimba people living north of Batanga, "Ekongi." The following statement is
made to me by intelligent Batanga people who know the parties, and who
believe that what they report actually occurred.
At Balimba, in the German Kamerun territory, lived a man, by name Elesa. He
possessed a little bundle containing powerful fetich medicines, so
compounded that they constituted the kind of charm known as Ekongi. Like
Aladdin's lamp, and almost as powerful, it warned him of danger, helped him
in all his wishes, assisted him in his emergencies, and when he was away
from it, as it was hidden in one of his chests in his house, caused him to
be able to see and hear anything that was plotted against him. Only he could
handle it aright; no one else would be able to manage it.
A brother-in-law of Elesa, husband of his sister, knew of this Ekongi, and
asked Elesa to loan it to him in order that he also might be successful in
some of his projects.
Now, the peculiarity of the Ekongi medicine is that it acts for and assists
only the family of the person who owns it. Elesa refused his brother-in-law,
telling him that as they did not belong to the same family, he would not
know what to do with a strange Ekongi, nor would Ekongi be willing to answer
a stranger.
The brother-in-law knew perfectly well that this was the manner of all
Ekongi medicine; but be was so covetous and so foolishly determined that he
hoped that in some way this Ekongi might be of use to him if only he could
possess himself of it.
One day Elesa went off into the forest on a hunting trip, leaving his Ekongi
safely locked in a chest in his house. The brother-in-law obtained a number
of keys, and going secretly to Elesa's house, tried them on the various
chests stored in the back room. Finally a key fitted, and a lock turned.
Suddenly the lid flew up, and out of the now opened chest jumped the little
Ekongi bundle, followed by all the goods that bad been packed in the chest;
and these spread themselves at his feet, yards of cloth, and hats, and
shirts, and coats, and a multitude of smaller articles. He rejoiced at the
success of his effort. His covetousness overcamehim. He said to himself that
he would put back Ekongi into the chest, would lock it, gather up all this
wealth and carry it away; and no one would see them, or know that the chest
had been opened by him.
He started to step forward, but his feet were held fast by some invisible
power. He tried to stoop down to lay bold of some of the goods within reach,
but his arms and back were held fast and stiff by the same invisible power.
And he realized that he was a prisoner in Ekongi's hands.
Off in the forest Elesa, in his chase, was enabled by his Ekongi to see and
know what was going on in his house. He saw his brother-in-law's attempt at
theft, and that his unlawful eyes had looked on the sacred Ekongi. He
abandoned the chase that day, and came back in great anger to his house.
There was his brother-in-law rooted to the spot on which he stood, the chest
open and empty, and the goods scattered on the floor.
Elesa controlled his anger, and at first said nothing. He quietly took a
chair from the room out into the street and sat down on it, opposite to the
doorway, as if on guard. Then he spoke: " So! now! You have looked on my
Ekongi! And you have tried to steal! I will not speak of the shameful thing
of stealing from a relative.[1] That is a little thing compared with the sin
you have done of looking on what was not lawful for your eyes. We are of
different families. I will punish you by taking away my sister, your wife.
You shall stand there until you agree to deliver up your wife, and also an
amount of goods equal to what you paid for her." The brother-in-law began to
plead against the hard terms, and offered to put his father into Elesa's
hand instead of the wife. But Elesa insisted.
The brother-in-law's father, at a distant village, possessed also his own
family Ekongi, which enabled him to see and know what was being said and
done at Elesa's house. He was angry at the hard terms demanded; according to
native view, he would defend any one of his family, even if he were in the
wrong. A native eye does not look at essential wrong or right; it looks at
family interest. His son's attempt at theft did not disturb him. It was
enough that Elesa had seized his son as prisoner. He snatched up his spear,
and hasted away to quarrel with his marriage relative Elesa.
On reaching the house, he saw his son still standing helpless, and Elesa
seated, still pressing his hard terms on him. The father said to Elesa, "You
are not doing well in this matter. Let my son go at once! "
Elesa refused, saying, "He wanted that which was sacred to me. He has looked
upon it and has desecrated it. I will not agree that the angry Ekongi shall
let him go free. He shall pay his ransom." After along discussion Elesa
changed his terms, and demanded a money substitute of one thousand German
marks in silver ($250). The father also receded from his demand that the son
should be released unconditionally. And after further discussion the father,
having saved both his son and himself from the first terms of the ransom,
returned again to the question of a person instead of money, and offered his
daughter in marriage instead of the $250.
[1. To a native African that is a much greater wrong than stealing from
other people, particularly from foreigners. - R. H. N.]
Elesa accepted. He picked up the now satisfied Ekongi, and put it back into
the chest; and all the scattered goods followed it, drawn by its power. And
when the lid was again closed down and locked, the brother-in-law felt his
limbs suddenly released from constriction, and was able to walk away.
This was gravely told me by my cook, a member of the Roman Catholic church,
and was endorsed by a woman of my own church, who was present during the
recital.
My friend the late Miss Mary H. Kingsley, on page 273 of her "Travels in
West Africa," mentions an incident which shows that she had discovered one
of these Yākā bundles, though apparently she did not know it as such and
suspected it to be a relic of cannibalism. It is true, however, that she did
come in contact with cannibalism. She had been given lodging in a room of a
house in a Fang village in the country lying between the Azyingo branch of
the Ogowe River and the Rembwe branch of the Gabun River. On retiring at
night, she had observed some small bags suspended from the wall. "Waking up
again, I noticed the smell in the hut was violent, from being shut up, I
suppose, and it had an unmistakably organic origin. Knocking the end off the
smouldering bush-light that lay burning on the floor, I investigated, and
tracked it to those bags; so I took down the biggest one, and carefully
noted exactly how the tie-tie (rattan rope) bad been put around its mouth;
for these things are important, and often mean a lot. I then shook its
contents out in my bat for fear of losing anything of value. They were a
human hand, three big toes, four eyes, two ears, and other portions of the
human frame. The hand was fresh, the others only so-so and shrivelled.
Replacing them, I tied the bag up, and hung it up again." It was well she
noticed a peculiarity in the tying of the calamus-palm string or "tie-tie."
A stranger would not have been put in that room of whose honesty or honor
there was doubt. White visitors are implicitly trusted that they will
neither steal nor desecrate.
Another family medicine in the Batanga region is known by the name of Mbati.
An account of the mode of its use was given me in 1902 by a Batanga man, as
occurring in his own lifetime with his own father. The father was a heathen
and a polygamist, having several wives, by each of whom he had children. One
day he went hunting in the forest. He observed a dark object crouching among
the cassava bushes on the edge of a plantation. Assuming that it was a wild
beast wasting the cassava plants, he fired, and was frightened by a woman's
outcry, " Oh! I am killed!" She was his own niece, who had been stooping
down, hidden among the bushes as she was weeding the garden. He helped her
to their village, where she died. She made no accusation. The bloodshed
being in their own family, no restitution was required, nor any
investigation made. The matter would have passed without further comment had
not, within a year, a number of his young children died in succession; and
it began to be whispered that perhaps the murdered woman's spirit was
avenging itself, or perhaps some other family was using witchcraft against
them. A general council of adjacent families was called. After discussion,
it was agreed that the other families were without blame; that the trouble
rested with my informant's father's family, which should settle the
difficulty as they saw best, by inflicting on the father some punishment, or
by propitiation being made by the entire family. The latter was decided on
by the doctors. They gathered from the forest a quantity of barks of trees,
leaves of parasitic ferns, which were boiled in a very large kettle along
with human excrement, and a certain rare variety of plantain, as small as
the smallest variety of banana. To each member of the family present, old
and young, male and female, were given two of these unripe plantains. The
rind does not readily peel off from unripe plantains and bananas; a knife is
generally used. But for this medicine the rinds were to be picked off only
by the finger-nails of those handling them, and then were to be shredded
into the kettle in small pieces, also only by their finger-nails. A goat or
sheep was killed, and its blood also mixed in. This mess was thoroughly
boiled. Then the doctor took a short bush having many small branches (a
tradition of hyssop?), and dipping it into the decoction, frequently and
thoroughly sprinkled all the members of the family, saying, "Let the
displeasure of the spirit for the death of that woman, or any other guilt of
any hidden or unknown crime, be removed! "The liquid portion of the contents
of the kettle having been used in the propitiatory sprinkling, the more
solid pottagelike debris was then eaten by all members of the family, as a
preventive of possible danger. And the rite was closed with the usual drum,
dance, and song. My informant told me that at that time, and taking part in
the ceremonies, was his mother, who was then pregnant with him. The Mbati
medicine seems to have been considered efficient, for he, the seventh child,
survived; and subsequently three others were born. The previous six had
died. Though two of those three have since died, in some way they were
considered to have died by Njambi (Providence), i.e., a natural death; for
it is not unqualifiedly true that all tribes of Africa regard all deaths as
caused by black art. There are some deaths that are admitted to be by the
call of God, and for these there is no witchcraft investigation.
The father also is dead. My informant and one sister survive. They think the
Mbati " medicine " was satisfactory, notwithstanding that the sister
believes that their father was secretly poisoned by his cousins, they being
jealous of his affluence in wives and children.
The last step in the Mbati rite is the transplanting of some plant. A
suitable hole having been dug at one end, or even in the middle of the
village street, each person takes a bulb of lily kind, probably a crinum or
an amaryllis, such as are common on the rocky edges of streams, and pressing
it against their backs and other parts of their body, and with a rhythmic
swaying of their bodies plant it in the hole. Thereafter these plants are
not destroyed. They are guarded from the village goats by a small enclosure,
and should at any time thevillage remove, the plants are also removed and
replanted on the new site. Such plants are seen in almost every village.
CHAPTER XII
THE FETICH - ITS RELATIONS TO DAILY WORK AND OCCUPATIONS AND TO THE NEEDS OF
LIFE
IN the great emergencies of life, such as plagues, famines, deaths,
funerals, and where witchcraft and black art are suspected, the aid or
intervention of special fetiches is invoked, as has been described in the
Yākā and other public ceremonies. The ritual required in such cases is often
expensive, as money is needed for the doctor's fee, for purchase of
ingredients and other materials for the "medicine," and in the entertainment
of the assemblage that always gather as participants or spectators.
There is also loss in time, little as the native African values time, and
slow as he is in the expedition of any matter. Houses that should be erected
and gardens that should be planted are neglected while the rite to be
performed is in hand. It may require even a month. During that time either
the favorable season for building or planting may have passed, or the work
has only partly been completed. The division of the seasons into two rainy
(of three months each) and two dry (a short hot and a long cool) make it
desirable, as in the temperate zones, for certain work to be done in certain
seasons.
But for the needs of life, day by day, with its routine of occupations,
whose outgoings and incomings are known and expected, the Bantu fetich
worshipper depends on himself and his regular fetich charms, which, indeed,
were made either at his request by a doctor (as we would order a suit of
clothes from a tailor), or by himself on fetich rule obtained from a doctor;
and when paid for, the doctor is no longer needed or considered. The
worshipper keeps these amulets and mixed medicines hanging on the wall of
his room or hidden in one of his boxes. But he gives them no regular
reverence or worship, no sacrifice or prayer, until such times as their
services are needed. He knows that the utilized actual spirits (or at least
their influence), each in its specific material object, is safely ensconced
and is only waiting the needs of its owner to be called into action.
These needs come day by day. Almost daily some one in the village is
hunting, warring, trading, love-making, fishing, planting, or journeying.
For Hunting. The hunter or hunters start out each with his own fetich
hanging from his belt or suspended from his shoulder; or, if there be
something unusual, even if it be not very great, in the hunt about to be
engaged in, a temporary charm may be performed by the doctor or even by the
hunters themselves. This is the more likely to be done if there is an
organized hunt including several persons. Such ceremonies preliminary to the
chase are described by W. H. Brown[1] as performed by an old witch-doctor
among the Mashona tribe: "Fat of the zebra, eland, and other game was mixed
with dirt and put into a small pot. Then some live coals were placed on the
grease, which caused it to burn, so that clouds of thick smoke arose. The
huntsmen sat in a circle around the pot, with the muzzles of their old
flint-locks and cap-guns sticking into the smoke. In unison they bent over
and took a smell of the fumes, and at the same time called out the name of
the 'medicine' or spirit they were invoking, which was Saru, saying thus,
'Saru, I must kill game; I must kill game, Saru! Now, Saru, I must kill
game!'
"After this performance was finished, each of the candidates in turn sat
down near the doctor, to be personally operated upon by him. He placed a
bowl of medicated water upon the huntsman's head, and stirred it with a
stick while the latter repeated the names of all the kinds of game he wished
to kill. This was to ascertain whether or not the hunt
[1. On the South African Frontier, p. 214.]
was to be successful. If any of the water splashed out and ran down over the
patient's head and face, success was assured. If not a drop had left the
bowl, then the huntsman might as well have laid aside his gun and assegai,
for his efforts would have been doomed to failure."
Among the Matabele of Southeast Africa, "when they are about to start for
the chase, they arrange themselves in a circle at sunset, and the doctor
comes with the bark of a tree filled with medicine, and with his finger
marks the chiefs on the forehead, in order to give them authority over the
animals."
For Journeying. No journey of importance is made without preparation of a
fetich, to which more forethought and time and care are given than to the
preparation of food, clothing, etc., for the way. Arnot [1] describes the
process: "On behalf of a caravan to start for Bihe, Msidi and his fetich
priests have been at work a whole month, preparing charms and so forth. The
process in such a case is first to divine as to the dangers that await them;
then to propitiate with the appointed sacrifices to forefathers (in this
case two goats were killed); afterwards to prepare the charms necessary
either as antidotes against evil or to secure good. The noma or fetich spear
to be carried in front of the caravan, with charms secured to it, was thus
prepared. The roots of a sweet herb were tied around the blade; then a few
bent splinters of wood were tied on, like the feathers of a shuttle-cock. In
the cage thus formed, there were placed a piece of human skin, little bits
of the claws of a lion, leopard, and so forth, with food, beer, and medical
roots; thus securing, respectively, power over their enemies, safety from
the paws of fierce animals, food and drink, and finally health. A cloth was
sewn over all, and finally the king spat on it and blessed it. After all
these performances they set out with light hearts, each man marked with
sacred chalk."
"Before starting on a journey a man will spend perhaps a fortnight in
preparing charms to overcome evils by the way and to enable him to destroy
his enemies. If he is a trader,
[1 Garenganze, p. 207.]
he desires to find favor in the eyes of chiefs and a liberal price for his
goods."
For Warring. So implicit is African faith in signs, charms, and auspices,
that when the sign before going into war is inauspicious, the natives'
hopelessness of success sometimes makes them seem almost cowardly. Among the
people of Garenganze in Southeast Africa, "when the chiefs meet in war,
victory does not depend on merely strength and courage, as we should
suppose, but on fetich 'medicines.' If some men on the side of the more
powerful chief fall, they at once retire and acknowledge that their
medicines have failed, and they cannot be induced to renew the conflict on
any consideration." [1]
Among the Matabele, "before a war the doctors concoct a special medicine,
and taking some of the froth from it, mark with it the forehead of those who
have already killed a man."
A native of Batanga recently described to me the war-fetich as formerly
prepared by his people. The medicine for it is arranged for thus. A house is
built at least several hundred yards from the village. There will be present
no one but the doctor, who eats and sleeps there while be is arranging with
the spirits and deciding on the medicine. After two days be tells the people
that he has finished it, that his preparations are ready, and that they must
assemble at his house. He tells them to bring with them a certain shaped
spear with prongs. Men have already gathered in the village, to the number
of several hundred, waiting for the war. The doctor chooses from among them
some man whom he sends to the forest to get a certain ingredient, a red
amomum pod. (It contains the "Guinea grains," or Mulaguetta pepper, which
taste like cardamom seeds, which a century ago were so highly valued in
Europe that only the rich could buy them.) Then the doctor and the man,
leaving the crowd, go together to the forest with knife and macbete and
basket. They may have to go several miles in order to find a tree called
"unyongo-muaele." The doctor holds the chewed amomum seeds in his
[1. Arnot.]
mouth,and blows them out against the tree, saying, "Pha-a-a! The gun shots!
Let them not touch me!" The assistant holds the basket while the doctor
climbs the tree and rubs off pieces of loose bark which are caught in the
basket as they fall. They then go on into the forest to find another tree
named "kota." There he blows the chewed seeds in the same way saying the
same, - "Pha-a-a! Thou tree! Let not the bullets hit me!" And the assistant,
with basket standing below, catches the bark scraped down as the doctor
climbs this tree.
They return to the village and enter the doctor's house. No women or
children may enter the house or be present at the ceremonies. The men bring
into the house a very big iron pot, and the doctor says, "This is what is to
contain all the ingredients of the medicine." Then the doctor, with two
other men, takes that spear by night, leaving all the other men to occupy
themselves with songs of war, while the townspeople are asleep; they go to
the grave of some man who has recently died. They dig open the grave, and
force off the lid of the coffin. The doctor thrusts the spear down into the
coffin into the head of the corpse. He twirls the spear about in the skull,
so as to get a firm grip on it with the prongs of the spear. He changes his
voice, and speaking in a hoarse guttural manner says, "Thou corpse! Do not
let any one hear what l say! And do not thou injure me for doing this to
you!" When the spear is well thrust into the skull, he stoops into the
grave, and with a machete cuts off the head. He goes away carrying the head
on the spear-point. While doing all this, be wears not the slightest
particle of clothing. They go back to the village to the doctor's house; and
there they catch a cock, and in the presence of the crowd the doctor twists
(not cuts) off its head. The blood of the cock is caught in a large fresh
leaf. He takes the fowl to the big pot, and lets some of its blood drip into
it. The head of the corpse is also put into the pot, with water, and all the
other ingredients, including the spear. The bullets of the doctor's gun are
also to go into the pot, which is then set over a fire.
After the water has boiled the doctor takes a furry skin of a bush-cat, and
all the hundreds of men stand on one side in a line. He dips the skin into
the pot, and shakes it over them. As he thus sprinkles them, he lays on them
a prohibition, thus: "All ye! this month, go ye not near your wives!" All
that month is spent by them practising war songs and dances.
Then the doctor takes the blood that was collected on the leaf, and mixes it
with powdered red-wood. This mixture is tied up with the human head in a
flying-squirrel's skin. He hangs this bundle up in the house over the place
where he sits. The body of the fowl next day is torn in pieces, not cut with
a knife, and placed in a small earthen pot with njabi oil (the oil of a
large pulpy forest fruit), and ngāndā (gourd) seeds. An entire fresh
plantain bunch is cut, and successive squads of the men peel each man his
small piece with his finger-nails. These also they shred with their nails,
part into the pot, and part on a plantain leaf, is the pot is small, and all
the pieces will be added as the contents of the pot are gradually reduced.
The doctor himself lifts the pot from the fire, and first eats of the mess,
and then gives each of the men, with his hand, a small share.
When all have finished eating, he opens the bundle that had been tied in the
squirrel skin, and with the fibrous inner bark of a tree, kinibwa-mbenje
(from which formerly was made the native bark-cloth), sponges the red rotten
stuff on their breasts, saying, "Let no bullet come here!" Then, led by the
doctor, they march in procession to the town. There he tells the people of
the town to try to shoot him, explaining that he does not wish any one to be
in doubt of the efficacy of the charm. As he leads the procession, he holds
the bundle in his hand, shouting, "Budu! hah! hah! Budu! hah! hah!" The
"hah" is uttered with a bold aspiration. This is to embolden his followers.
("Budu! hah!" does not inean anything; it is only a yell.) The people are
terrified, though he is still shouting to them to fire at him. He is safe;
for he leads the procession to where is stationed a confederate, who does
fire at him point blank from a gun from which the bullets have been removed.
It is a triumph for him! The crowd see that not only he does not fall dead,
but he is not even wounded! The charm has turned aside the bullets!
The townspeople are then invited to join the procession. They stand up with
the doctor and his crowd, and dance the war-dance. When the dancing is
ended, he takes the bundle and anoints all the townspeople, even the women
and children. And the men go to their war, sure of victory. But the doctor
himself does not go; he remains safely behind, saying that it is necessary
for him to watch the bundle in his house. Defeat in the war is easily
explained by saying that some one in the crowd had spoiled the charm by not
obeying some item in the ritual.
For Trading. One method is described to me by a Batanga native who had seen
it used by a certain man of his tribe. This man obtained the head of a dead
person who had been noted for his intelligence. This be kept hidden in his
house, lying in a white basin. To assure himself that it should be seen by
no one else, he built a small hut in the behu (kitchen-garden), detached
from his dwelling, and into which none but himself and wife should enter.
There he kept the head in its basin. When he had occasion to go to a white
man's trading-house to ask for goods or any other favor, he first poured
water into this basin, mixed it with the decomposed brain that had oozed
from the skull, and washed his cheeks in this dirty water. He also took some
brain-matter, mixed it with palm-oil, and rubbed it over his hands. Then, on
his going to the trading-house, when the white man shakes hands with him and
looks on his face, he will be pleased and generously disposed, and will
grant any request made.
My informant told me that when he was a lad he assisted his father in using
another method. His father was intimate with white men, trading extensively
with them in ivory, To increase his credit, he set out to make a new fetich.
He called the son to accompany him to the forest, and handed him a basket to
carry. They searched among the trees until they found two growing near
together, but bent in such a waytoward eachother that their trunks crossed
incontact, and were rubbed smooth by abrasion; and when violently rubbing,
in a storm, gave out a creaking sound. In that mysterious sound inhered the
fetich power. He chose the trees, not for any value in their kind, but
because of their singular juxtaposition and their weird sounds. He gathered
bark from these trees, and the son carried the basketful back to their
village. The father fixed the time of axrival and point of entrance so that
they should not be seen as they came to their house. He then went out to the
behu (kitchen-garden) and plucked four ripe plantains (mehole); and gathered
leaves of a certain tree, by name "boka." An earthen pot containing water
and pieces of the twin-tree bark was set over the fire, and into the pot
were finely sliced the mehole and the boka.leaves. To these were added a
certain kind of fish, by name "hume," a bottle of palm-oil, gourd seeds, and
groundnuts. All these were thoroughly boiled together. When they were
sufficiently boiled, he lifted off the pot from the fire, not by his hands,
but by clasping its hot sides with his feet, as he sat on a low stool, and
placed it on the ground. Sitting by it, he held his face over it, with a
cloth thrown over his head, thus inhaling the steam. He remained in this
steam bath for about an hour.
At food time he cut two pieces of leaves from plantains, spread them on the
ground and sat on them, and ate the mess that was in the pot. While eating,
he uttered into the pot adjurations, e.g., "Let no one, not even a Mabeya
tribesman, hinder me from the white man's good-will! When I go some day to
make my request to the white man, let him grant it!" When he had finished
eating, he told his son to carry the pot into an inner room and deposit it
in a large box, which the father opened for that purpose. The pot was not
washed; it still contained the remains of the pottage. He told his son to
reveal to no one what they had done.
That very day he heard that his trade friend in the adjacent inferior Mabeya
tribe had obtained an ivory tusk for him. He at once started out alone to
meet his friend on the way, so as to be sure that it would not be earried to
some one else; but not as on other ordinary journeys. He was to look neither
to the right nor to the left (as if watchful of possibly ambushed enemies),
nor to look back, even if called by name; but with eye straightforward, to
walk steadily to the goal. Before starting, he had rubbed some of the
pottage mess on his band and tongue. On reaching the Mabeya village, his
friend did not hesitate or haggle about the price, but promptly told him to
take the tusk. Before selling it to the white trader, he scraped some ivory
flakes from the outside of the tusk, put them into a decanter with two
bottles of rum (before foreign liquor was known, native plantain beer was
used) and pieces of the twin-tree bark. When subsequently he had occasion to
go to the trading-house, he first drank a little from this decanter.
Another Bwanga-bwa-Ibāmā, or trade medicine, is concocted as follows: A man
who decides to make one for himself does not allow any one but his wife to
know what he is about to do. He gathers from the forest leaves of a tree, by
name "kota," the skin of a flying-squirrel (ngunye), from some dead person
the nail from the fourth or little finger (of either hand), and the tip of
the tongue, some drops of his wife's menses, a solution of red-wood powder,
and the long tail-featbers of a forest bird, by name "kilinga." He then
provides himself with an antelope's horn. Having burned the squirrel skin,
he puts its ashes into the horn, mixed with the above-named articles,
including the feather, whose end is allowed to stick out. Then, with the gum
of the okume, or African mahogany tree, he closes the mouth of the horn, as
with a cork, to prevent the liquid contents from escaping. This horn he
suspends by a string from his neck or shoulder whenever be takes it with him
on a journey. He uses it in his trade dealings with both whites and blacks.
Before beginning a bargain or asking a white trader or another person for
gifts of goods, he secretly pulls out the feather through the soft gum, and
rubs a little of the liquid on the end of his nose. When this fetich is not
in use, it is hidden in his bedroom or other private part of his house. But
no one, not even his own family, is allowed to know where it is kept.
Among the Mpongwe tribes of the equator in West Africa there are trade
medicines that involve actual murder. One of these is called "Okundu." Like
modern spiritualism, it seeks to employ a human medium to communicate with
the dead; but it is unlike spiritualism in that the medium must actually be
killed before he can go on his errand.
In the case of a man who seeks to become wealthy in trade and goes to a
magic doctor for that purpose, the doctor tells him of the different kinds
of medicine, and some of the most important things required for each. The
seeker, may choose what he is able and willing to do. For Okundu medicine it
is required that the seeker shall name some one or more of his relatives who
he is willing should die, and that their spirits be sent to influence white
traders or other persons of wealth, and make them favorably disposed toward
the seeker, so that they may employ him in positions of honor and profit. If
the seeker hesitate to do the actual murder, the doctor, by his black art,
is to kill the person nominated and send him on his errand. If the fear
should occur to the seeker that perhaps the murdered relative, instead of
devoting himself in the spirit-world to the trade interests of his murderer,
should attempt to avenge himself, the subject is dismissed by the doctor's
assurance that either the spirit shall not know that the death of its body
was premature, or that he will overrule it for the desired purpose.
I know, personally, a Mpongwe man still living in Gabun who is believed to
have done this Okundu. He is of prominent family, and had held lucrative
service with white traders. His fortunes began to wane; he fell into debt,
and white men began to doubt him and hesitated to entrust him. Though
wearing the dress of a civilized gentleman, he is a heathen at heart. He had
a little slave boy. The child suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. Those
who asked questions received evasive and contradictory answers. A very
reliable native told me that it was known that this man had been
communicating with an Okundu doctor, and many believed that the child had
been put to death. But no one dared to say anything openly, and there was
not sufficient proof on which to lay an information before the French
governor, only a mile distant.
Another Mpongwe trade medicine is Mbumbu (which means rainbow"). Old
tradition said that the rainbow was caused by a forest vine which a great
snake had changed to the form of the sun-colored arc. The seeker of wealth
is aided by the doctor to obtain a piece of this rainbow, which he keeps in
secret, and can carry hidden with him. By it he is able at any time to kill
any one of his relatives whom be may choose (of course unknown to them) and
send their spirits off to induce foreign traders to give him a store of
goods (the children's pot of gold at the rainbow's end?).
For Sickness. Among the Mpongwe and adjacent tribes there are three kinds of
spirits invoked, according to the character of the disease. These are
Nkinda, Ombwiri, and Olāgā.
It is clear that these, as explained in a previous chapter, are names of
spirits, but the same names (as in the case of other fetich mixtures) are
given to the medicines in whose preparation they are invoked. But my
informants differed in their opinions whether these names indicate different
kinds of spirits, or only a difference in the functions or works done by
them. One very intelligent and prominent native at first seemed uncertain,
but subsequently said that "Nkinda" indicated the spirits of the common
dead; "Ombwiri" the spirits of distinguished dead, kings, and other
prominent men; and "Olāgā," a higher class, who had been admitted to an
"angelic" position in the spirit-world. All, however, asserted that all
these are spirits of former human beings. Which kind shall be invoked
depends on the doctor's diagnosis of the disease.
Take the case of some one who has been sick with an obscure disease that has
not yielded to ordinary medication: the doctor begins his incantations with
drum and dance and song. This is sometimes kept up all night, and in minor
cases the patient is required to join in these ceremonies. But in the more
mystic Nkinda, Ombwiri, and Olāgā the sick person sits still, being required
to do so as a part of the diagnosis. For if after a while the patient shall
begin to nod his head violently, it is a sign that a spirit of some one of
these three classes has taken possession of him. The doctor then takes him
to a secret place in the forest, and asks the spirit what kind it is, and
what the nature of the disease. The reply, though made by the patient, is
not supposed to be his, but the spirit's who is using his mouth. Really the
sick, dazed, submissive patient does not know what be is saying. After this
diagnosis the doctor goes to seek plants suitable for the disease. By chance
the patient may recover. If he does not, the doctor asserts that the spirit
had misinformed him, and the ceremony must be performed again.
One of the physical signs indicating that Olāgā, rather than Nkinda or
Ombwiri, is the medicine to be used, is vomiting. Hemorrhages from the lungs
would be included in the Olāgā diagnosis.
"Among the Mashonas of South Africa a 'medicine' used is a small antelope
horn called 'egona,' in which was a mixture of ground-nut oil and a
medicinal bark known as 'unchanya.' The concoction is taken out on the end
of a stick termed 'mutira,' and administered to the patient by dropping it
into his ear. The doctor stated that it was a sure cure for headache.
"Another horn, four inches long, called 'mulimate,' was for the purpose of
cupping and bleeding, and is used in this wise: An incision is made with a
knife into the body, the large end of the horn is placed over the wound;
then a vacuum is formed by the doctor's sucking the air out through an
opening at the little end. The small hole is closed with wax, and the horn
is left until it has become filled with clotted blood. This is the process
of curing rheumatism and other maladies, which are supposed by the Mashonas
to be literally drawn out with the blood. Bleeding is practised extensively;
and I have seen natives bled from arms, legs, body, and head until they were
so exhausted that weeks were required for their recovery.
"Another important instrument was a brush made of a zebra's tail, among the
hairs of which were tied inany small roots and herbs possessing various
medicinal properties. One of the remedies was known as 'gwandere,' and,
taken internally, was a sure cure for worms, so the doctor stated. The brush
was called 'muskwa,' this being the name of any animal's tail. The doctor
demonstrated its use by operating upon a man in my presence. He placed some
powdered herbs in a bowl of water, then dipped the brush in, and sprinkled
the patient. Next, he performed several magic evolutions with the brush
around the patient's body, at the same time repeating, 'May the sickness
leave this person!' and so forth. The doctor told me that after this
operation the patient was certain of recovery, unless some witch or spirit
intervened to prevent it or to cause his death."[1]
For Loving. Love philtres are common, even among the civilized and
professedly Christian portion of the community. Philtres are both male and
female. If a woman says to herself, "My husband does not love me; I will
make him love me!" or if any woman desires to make any man love her, she
prepares a medicine for that purpose. This charm is called "Iyele." The
process is as follows: First, she scrapes from the role of her foot some
skin, and lays it carefully aside. Next, when she has occasion to go to the
public latrine at the seaside or on the edge of the forest, she washes her
genitals in a small bowl of water, which she secretly carries to her house.
Then, with a knife, she scrapes a little skin and mucous from the end of her
tongue. These three ingredients she mixes in a bottle of water, which is to
be used in her cooking.
The most attractive native mode of cooking fish and meat is in Jomba
("bundle"). The flesh is cut into pieces and
[1. Brown, On the South African Frontier.]
laid in layers with salt, pepper, some crushed oily nut, and a little water.
These all are tied up tightly in several thicknesses of fresh green plantain
leaves, and the bundle is set on a bed of hot coals. The water in the bundle
is converted into steam before the thick fleshy leaves are charred through.
The steam, unable to escape, permeates the fibres of the meat, thoroughly
cooking it without boiling or burning.
When the above-mentioned woman cooks for the man, her husband, or any other
for whom she is making the philtre, the water she uses in the jomba is taken
from that prepared bottle. This jomba she sets before him, and be eats of it
(unaware, of course, of her intention, or of the special mode of
preparation). It is fully believed that the desired effect is immediate;
that, as soon as he has finished eating, all the thoughts of his heart will
be turned toward this woman, and that be will be ready to comply with any
wish of hers. No objection to her, or to what she says, coming from any
other person in the village, male or female, will be regarded by him.
I know a certain Gabun woman who boasted of her power, by the above-
described means, to cause a certain white man whom she loved (but who was
not her husband) to do anything at all that she bade him.
Also a small portion from that bottle may be poured (secretly) into the
glass of liquor that is to be drunk by a favored guest. This is practised
alike on visitors, white or black.
The process of making a love charm by a man is more elaborate. The
ingredients are more numerous and require more time in their collection.
Having fixed his desire on some woman, be decides in his heart, "I am going
to marry such and such a woman in such and such a village!" But he keeps his
intention entirely secret. He proceeds to make the male charm called
"Ebābi." (I do not know the origin of this word; it looks as if it belonged
to the adjective "bobābu" = soft, which is a derivative of the verb
"babākā," to yield, to consent, to soften.) The first ingredient is coconut
oil, which is poured into a flask made of a small gourd or calabash. Then,
going to the forest, be gathers leaves of the borigom tree. Another day he
will go again to the forest, and find leaves of the bokadi tree. Then he
plucks some hairs from his arm-pits, and puts them and the bruised leaves,
with some of his own urine, into the flask. This flask he then suspends from
his kitchen roof above the itaka frame or hanging-shelf that in almost all
kitchens is placed above the fire-hearth. It remains there in the smoke for
ten days. Then taking it down, he inserts into it, tip downward, a long
tail-feather of a large bird called "koka." He is ready then for his
experiment. Any day that he chooses to go to seek the woman, be first draws
out the feather, with whatever of the mixture clings to it, and wipes it on
his hands. His hands he then rubs over his face rapidly and vigorously,
saying, "So will I do to that woman!
He must immediately then start on his journey. This act of anointing his
bands and face must have been his very last act before starting. And there
are several prohibitions. He must have thought beforehand of all things
needed to be done or handled, for after the anointing be must not touch any
other thing. In taking the gourd-flask from above the hanging-shelf he must
not touch the shelf. He must not rub or scratch his bead. He must not handle
a broom. He must not shake hands with any one on the path to the woman's
village. All these prohibitions are in order that the anointed mixture may
not be rubbed off, or its effect counteracted by contact with anything else.
When he reaches the woman's village, he goes directly to her, and clasping
her on the shoulder, he rubs his bands downward on her arm, saying, "You!
you woman! I love you!" Instantly the medicine is operative, and she is
willing to go with him.
If it is only a love affair, she goes secretly. If he offers her marriage,
there is first the amicable settlement by the council that is then held by
the woman's family as to the amount of the dowry to be paid for her.
Presents having, been given to her by him, the woman goes with the man
without further objection. On reaching his house, he points out to her the
gourd-flask hanging in the kitchen, and tells her, "Let that thing alone."
But he does not inform her what it is; nor does she know or suspect that it
is anything more than an ordinary fetich. Nor does any one else know; for no
one had been allowed to see him perform any part of the several processes of
the ritual in compounding the charm.
For Fishing. The prescription for making the fetich for success in fishing
is as follows: Go in the morning early, while the rest of the villagers are
asleep, to an adjacent marsh or pond. (Almost all African villages are built
on or near the bank of some stream or lake.) Find a place where pond-lilies
are growing. Wade into the pond, bend low in the water, and pluck three
lily-pads. There are water-spiders, called "mbwa-ja-miba" (dogs of the
water), generally running over the surface of the water at such places;
catch four of them. Gather also leaves of another water-plant called
"ngāma." All these articles leave in the village in a safe place. When other
fishers come in from the sea, go to the beach to meet them; and if they have
among their catch a certain fish called "bume," having three spines, beg or
buy it. This you are to dry over the fire. Watch the daily fishing until
some one has killed a shark; obtain its heart, which also is to be dried.
Take also a plate full of gourd seeds (nganda) and some ground-nuts
(mbenda); also five "fingers" of unripe plantains cut from the living bunch
on the stalk, and a tumblerful of palm-oil. All these above-named
ingredients are to be mixed in one pot (which must be earthen) and are to be
cooked in it. While the mess is boiling, sit by, face over the pot, in the
steam rising from it, and speak into the pot, "Let me catch fish every day!
every day!" No people are to be present, or to see any of these proceedings.
Take the pot off the fire, not with your hands, but by your feet, and set it
on the ground. Take all your fish-hooks, and hold them in the steam arising
from the pot. Take a banana leaf that is perfect and not torn bywind, and
laying it on the ground, spread out the hooks on it. Then eat the stewed
mess, not with a real spoon, but with a leaf twisted as a spoon. In eating,
flic inedible portions, such as fish-bones, skins, rind, and so forth, are
not to be ejected from the mouth on the ground, but must be removed by the
fingers and carefully laid on the banana leaf. Having finished eating, call
one of the village dogs, as if it was to be given liberty to eat the remains
of the mess. As the dog begins to eat, strike it sharply, and as the aninial
runs away howling, say, "So! may I strike fish!" Then kick the pot over.
Take the refuse of food from the banana leaf, and the hooks, and lay them at
the foot of the plantain stalk from which the five "fingers" were cut. Leave
the pot lying as it was until night. Then, unseen, take it out into the
village street, and violently dash it to pieces on the ground, saying, "So!
may I kill fish!" It is expected that the villagers shall not hear the sound
of the breaking of the vessel; for it must be done only when they are
believed to be asleep. When the bunch of plantains from which those fingers
were taken ripens, and is finally cut down for food by others, you are
forbidden to eat not only of it, but of the fruit of any of its shoots that
in regular succession, year after year (according to the manner of bananas
and plantains), take the place of the predecessor stalk. You may never eat
of their fruit.
For Planting. Planting is done almost entirely by women. If a woman says to
herself, "I want to have plenty of food! I will make medicine for it! " she
proceeds to gather the necessary ingredients. She takes her ukwala
(machete), pavo (knife), short hoe (like a trowel), and elinga (basket), and
goes to the forest. She must go very early in the morning, and alone. She
gathers a leaf called "tube," another called "injenji," the bark of a tree
called "bohamba, " the bark also of elāmbā, and leaves of bokuda. Hiding
them in a safe place, she goes back to her village to get her earthen pot.
Returning with it to the forest, she makes a fire, not with coals from the
village, but with new, clean fire made by the two fire-sticks. These, used
by natives before steel and flint were introduced, require often an hour's
twirling before friction develops sufficient heat to cause a spark. The
sparks are caught on thoroughly dried plantain fibre. Then she builds her
fire. She goes to some spring or stream for water to put in the pot with the
leaves and barks, and sets it on the fire. All this while she is not to be
seen by other people. When the water has boiled, she sets the pot in the
middle of the acre of ground which she intends to clear for her garden until
its contents cool. In the meanwhile she goes to some creek and gets "chalk"
(a white clay is found in places in the beds of streams). She washes it
clean of mud and rubs it on her breast. Then she takes the pot, and empties
its decoction by sprinkling it, with a bunch of leaves, over the ground,
saying, "My forefathers! now in the land of spirits, give me food! Let me
have food more abundantly than all other people! " Then she again sets the
pot in the middle of the proposed plantation. She takes from it the tube
leaves and puts them into four little cornucopias (ehongo), which she rolls
from another large leaf of the elende tree. She sets these in the four
corners of the garden. Whenever she comes on any other day to work in the
garden, she pulls a succulent plant, squeezes its juice into the ehongo; and
this juice she drops into her eye. To be efficient, this medicine has a
prohibition connected with it, viz., that during the days of her menses she
shall not go to the garden.
When,ber plants have grown, and she has eaten of them, she must break the
pot. Having done so, she makes a large fire at an end of the garden, and
burns the pieces of earthenware so that they shall be utterly calcined. It
is not required that she shall stay by the fire awaiting that result. She
may, if she wishes, in the meanwhile go back to her village. She takes the
ashes of the pot, mixes them with chalk in a jornba (bundle) of leaves,
which she ties to a tree of her garden in a hidden spot where people will
not see it.
Another strict prohibition is required of her by the medicine, viz., that
she is not to steal from another woman's garden. If she break this law, her
own garden will not produce. The jomba is kept for years, or as long as she
plants at that place, and the chalk mixture is rubbed on her breast at each
planting season. From time to time also, as the leaves of the jomba decay or
break away, she puts fresh ones about it, to prevent the wetting of its
contents by rain or its injury in any other way.
CHAPTER XIII
THE FETICH - SUPERSTITION IN CUSTOMS
THE observances of fetich worship fade off into the customs and habits of
life by gradations, so that in some of the superstitious beliefs, while
there may be no formal handling of a fetich amulet containing a spirit, nor
actual prayer or sacrifice, nevertheless spiritism is in the thought, and
more or less consciously held.
In our civilization there are thousands of professedly Christian people who
are superstitious in such things as fear of Friday, No. 13, spilled salt,
etc. In my childhood, at Easton, Pa., I was sent on an errand to a German
farmhouse. The kind-hearted Frau was weeding her strawberry bed in the
spring garden-making, and was throwing over the fence into the public road
superfluous runners. I asked permission to pick them up to plant in my own
little garden. She kindly assented, and I thanked her for them, whereupon
she exclaimed, "Ach! nein! nein! Das ist no goot! You say, 'Dank you'; now
it no can grow any more!" I was too young to inquire into the philosophy of
the matter. Surely she would not forbid gratitude. I think the gist of what
she thought my error was, that I had thanked her for what she considered a
worthless thing and had thrown away. I do not think she would have objected
to thanks for anything she valued sufficiently to offer as a gift.
The difference between my old Pennsylvania-Dutch lady and my "Number 13"
acquaintances, and my African Negro friend is that to the former, while they
are somewhat influenced by their superstition, it is not their God. To the
latter it is the practical and logical application of his religion. Theirs
is a pitiable weakness; his a trusted belief.
It would be impossible to enumerate all the thousands of practices dominated
by the superstitious beliefs of the Bantu, - practices which sometimes erect
themselves into customs and finally obtain almost the force of law. Many of
these are prevalent all over Africa; others are local.
RULES OF PREGNANCY.
Everywhere are rules of pregnancy which bind both the woman and her husband.
During pregnancy neither of them is permitted to eat the flesh of any animal
which was itself pregnant at the time of its slaughter. Even of the flesh of
a non-pregnant animal there are certain parts - the heart, liver, and
entrails - which may not be eaten by them. It is claimed that to eat of such
food at such a time would make a great deal of trouble for the unborn
infant. During his wife's pregnancy a man may not cut the tbroat of any
animal nor assist in the butchering of it. A carpenter whose wife is
pregnant must not drive a nail. To do so would close the womb and cause a
difficult labor. He may do all other work belonging to carpentering, but he
must have an assistant to drive the nails.
In my early years on Corisco Island, and while I was expecting to become a
father, I was one day superintending the butchering of a sheep. It was not
necessary that I should actually use the knife; that was done by the cook;
but I stood by to see that the work was done in a cleanly manner, and that
in the flaying the skin should be rolled constantly away, so that the hair
should not touch the flesh. In the dissection I assisted, so that the flesh
should not be defiled by a carelessly wounded entrail. My servant was
amazed, and said my child would be injured. He was still more shocked when
Mrs. Nassau herself came to urge haste and to secure the liver for dinner.
Among the station employees oil Corisco in 1864 was an ex-slave, a recent
convert, whose freedom had been purchased by one of the missionaries. The
native non-Christian freemen begrudged him his position as a mission
employee; for his wages were now his own, and could no longer be claimed by
his former master. Some of his fellow-servants, freemen, put off on him, as
much as they could, the more menial tasks. It was incumbent, therefore, on
the missionaries to see that be was not oppressed by his fellows. Clearing
of the graveyard was a task no one liked to have assigned to him; and it was
often thrown on poor Evosa. One day a newly arrived missionary, the Rev.
George Paull, the noblest of my associates these forty years, who just then
knew little of the language or of native thought or custom, ordered Evosa to
take his hoe and clean the cemetery path. Evosa bluntly said, "Mba haye!" (I
won't). "You won't! You refuse to obey me?" "Mba haye!" "Then I dismiss
you." Evosa went away, much cast down. Some of his fellow-Cliristians came
to me saying they were sorry for him, and asked me to interfere. "But," I
said, "he should obey; the work is not hard." "Oh! but be can't do it!" "Why
not?" "Because his wife is pregnant." Immediately I understood. Evosa may
not have believed in the superstition, but for all that, if he did the work
and subsequently there should be anything untoward in his wife's
confinement, her relatives would exact a heavy fine of him. We had not
required our converts to disregard these prohibitions, if only they did not
actually engage in any act of fetich worship. I was careful to say nothing
to the natives that would undermine my missionary brother's authority; but
privately I intiniated to Mr. Paull that I thought that if be had been fully
aware of the state of the case, be would not have dismissed the man. He was
just, and reversed the dismissal. Evosa was pardoned also for the bluntness
of his refusal; it was a part of his slavish ignorance. In conclusion, I
warned him that he should have explained to Mr. Paull the ground of his
refusal, and should have asked for other work. He had not supposed that tlie
white man did not know; wid the asking of excuse is a part of politeness
tbat has to be taught. Almost every new missionary makes unwise or unjust
orders and decisions before be learns on what superstitious grounds he is
treading. Not all are willing to be rectified as was my noble brother Paull.
In the burial of a first-born infant the lid of the coffin is not only not
allowed to be nailed down, but it must not entirely cover the corpse; a
space must be left open (generally above the child's head); the superstition
being that if the coffin be closed, the mother will bear no more children.
OMENS ON JOURNEYS.
Almost every traveller in Africa, in publishing his story, has much to say
about the difficulties in getting his caravan of porters started on their
daily journey. His detailed account of slowness, disobedience, and
desertions is as monotonous to the reader as they were distressing to
himself. Did he but know it, the fault was often largely his own. The man of
haste and exactitude, that has grown up on railroad time-tables, demands the
impossible of aborigines who never have needed to learn the value of time.
Anglo-Saxon, Teutonic, and even Latin diligence expects too much of the
happy-go-lucky African. The traveller fumes, and frets, and works himself
into a fever. He would gain more in the end if he would festina lente. He
would save himself many a quarrel or case of discipline (for which he earns
the reputation of being a hard master; and for which, further on in the
journey, he may be shot by one of his outraged servants) if he only knew
that superstition had met his servant, as the angel "with his sword drawn"
met Balaam's ass, "in a narrow place"; and that servant could no more have
dared to go on in the way than could that wise ass who knew and saw what his
angry master did not know.
Mr. R. E. Dennett, for many years a resident in Loango among the Bavili
people, and author of "Seven Years among the Fjort," recognizes this in "A
Few Signs and Omens," contributed recently to a Liverpool weekly journal,
"West Africa." What he says of the Fyāt (Fiot) tribes is largely true of all
the other West African tribes. "They have a number of things to take into
consideration, when setting out upon a journey, which may account for many
of those otherwise inexplicable delays which so annoy the white man at times
when anxious to start 'one time' for some place or other.
"The first thing a white man should do is to see that the Negro's fetiches
are all in order; then, when on the way, he must manage things so that the
first person the caravan shall meet shall be a woman; for that is a good
sign, while to meet a man means that something evil is going to happen.
Then, to meet the bird Kna that is all black is a bad sign; while the Kna
that has its wings tipped with white is a good sign.
"The rat Benda running across your path from left to right is good; from
right to left fairly good; should it appear from the left and run ahead in
the direction you are going, 'Oh! that is very good!' but should it run
towards you, well, then the best thing for you to do is to go back; for you
are sure to meet with bad luck!
"See that your men start with their left foot first, and that they are
'high-steppers'; for if their left foot meet with an obstacle, and is not
badly hurt, it is not a bad sign; but if their right foot knocks against
anything, you must go back to town.
"See that you do not meet that nasty brown bird called Mvia, that is always
crying out, 'Via, via'; for that means 'witch-palaver,' and strikes
consternation into your people. Nobody likes to be reminded of his sins or
witch deeds, and be condemned to be burnt in the fire; and that is what
'via' means.
"Then there is that moderately large bird with wings tipped with white
called 'Nxeci,' also reminding one of 'witch-palaver,' and continuously
crying out, 'Ke-e-e,' or 'No.' You had far better not start.
"Take care also to shoot the cukoo o Nkuku before it crosses your path; for
if you allow it to pass, you had better return; it is a bad omen.
"Then, concerning owls: see that your camp at night is not disturbed by the
cry of the Kulu (spirit of the departed), that warns you that one of you is
going to die; or that of the Xi-futu-nkubu, which means that you may expect
some evil shortly. On the other hand, let the Mampaulo-paulo hoot as much as
it likes; for that is a good sign.
"Then look out that the snake Nduma does not cross your path; for that is a
sign of death, or else of warning to you that you should return and see to
the fetich obligations the iron bracelet Ngofu reminds you of. Examine your
men, and ask those who wear the bracelet the following questions: Have you
eaten the flesh of anything (save birds) on the same day that it was killed?
Have you pointed your knife at any one? Did you know your wife on the Day of
Rest (Nsāna, Sunday)? Have you looked upon a woman during a certain period
of the month? Have you eaten those long 'chilli' peppers instead of
confining yourself to the smaller kinds?
"You must send those who have not the bracelet, together with those who have
not been true to ngofu, back to town, to set this ' palaver' right. Take
great care of your fowls, and see that you have no ill-regulated cock to
crow between 6 P.M. and 3 A.M., as that means that there is a palaver in
town to which your men are called, so that it may be settled at once.
"Then, there is that large bird Knakna, whose cry warns your men that there
is something wrong with the fetich Mabili ('the east wind,' on the gateway
at the east entrance to each town), and this knowledge will hang as a dead
weight on all their energies until they have just run back to town to see
what the matter may be.
"Get your men to sleep early, lest they should see the 'falling stars '; for
it means that one of their princes is about to die, and that is disquieting.
Then don't let it thunder out of season; for that portends the death of an
important prince.
"And if you determine to go out fishing, and meet the rat Benda (as above
noted), go or not, as the signs command you. If you meet the bird Mbixi that
sings 'luelo-elo-elo,' go on your way rejoicing; or when the little bird
Nxexi, true to nature, sings 'xixexi,' all is well; but when it sings,
'tietie,' go back, for you will catch nothing.
"Then there is the wild dog Mbulu; well, that must not cross your path at
starting. You laugh? Well, so did Nyambi, the brother of my headman, Bayona;
and what bappened? Nyambi had come down from the interior with his master;
and after a short stay was ordered back to his trading post, his master
saying that he would follow him shortly. A friend handed him a son of his
for him to educate, and to attend upon him; in fact, to be his 'boy.'
Everything being ready, be set out from Loango; and the first thing they met
on the road was the wild dog. Now Nyambi was a plucky Bantu and took no
notice of this warning, but continued on his way. On reaching the forest
country in Mayomba, the boy entrusted to him ran away. Nyanibi, true to his
trust, came after him back to his town, to see that the boy was once more
placed in the care of his father, and so to avoid any further complications.
Then he once more started on his way, and, nearing the forest country again,
was bitten severely on the foot by a snake. He tied a rag around his leg
just under the knee, and another just above his ankle, and squeezed as much
blood as he could from the wound itself. Then he hobbled into the nearest
town, and waited there for assistance from his family, to whom he had at
once despatched a messenger. They sent men and women to bring him back to
Loango, where he arrived in a very weak condition, and with a fearful sore
on his foot, - an awful warning to all those who will not take the omens
sent to them in earnest! What! you still laugh? Well, there is no hope for
you; you are too persistent, and have not read the story of the rabbit and
the antelope, and of the trap laid for the former.[1] And if you keep on
laughing at these superstitions of the natives, don't blame any one if they
call you a 'rabbit,' and refuse to follow you in your wanderings through
their land. Most haste is
[1. Tale 23, p. 93, my "Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Fiort."]
very often worst speed in Africa; and the white man who ignores all but
physical difficulties does well to stay his impatient hand when about to
strike his most provoking and apparently dilatory black carrier, who is
beset by endless moral obstacles retarding his progress as no physical
difficulties can."
When I was beginning my pioneering of the Ogowe River in September-November,
1874, 1 had with me one Christian coast native. I completed my canoe's crew
with four heathen Galwa, placed myself under the patronage of the Akele
chief Kasa, resided in his village, and bought from him a site, Belambila,
for my mission station, about a mile distant from him. Daily I went with my
crew in the canoe to work at the building of a temporary house on the
Belambila premises. One day a water-snake crossed the canoe's bow, and I
struck at it. The Christian looked serious, and the four heathen laid down
their paddles. It was sufficiently disastrous that the snake had crossed our
path; I had made matters worse by attempting to injure it. They said, "You
should not have done that." "Why?" "Because somewhere and sometime it will
follow us and will bite us. Let us go back to Kasa's." I refused, and
insisted on our proceeding with the day's work. I might better have yielded
to their request. It was as if I were under an Ancient Mariner's curse. My
snake was as bad as his albatross. My men either could not or would not.
Everything went wrong. They worked without heart and under dread. What they
built that day was done with so many mistakes that I had to tear it down. I
did not fully appreciate at that time, but I do not now think that they were
intentionally disobedient or recalcitrant. Just as well compel a crew of
ignorant sailors to start their voyage on a Friday. The fear of ominous
birds and other animals is over all Africa. In Garenganze, according to
Arnot, "many have a superstitious dread of the horned night-owl. Its cry is
considered an evil omen, which can only be counteracted effectually by
possessing a whistle made out of the windpipe of the same kind of bird.
"Jackals, wild dogs" also are very much disliked. The weird cry of one of
these animals will arouse the people of a whole village, who will rush out
and call upon the spirit-possessed animal to be quiet and leave them, or to
come into the village, and they will feed and satisfy it.
"When travelling, they are careful to notice the direction this animal may
take. Should its cry come from the direction in which they are going, they
will not venture a step farther until certain divinations have been
performed that they may learn the nature of the calamity about to befall
them." [1]
The chameleon is an object of dread to all natives wherever I have lived. I
have never met, even among the most civilized, any man or woman who would
touch one. For friendship, or to make a sale, they would bring it to me at
the end of a long stick, in my various efforts at zodlogical and other
collections.
The millepedes they also dread. I handle them with impunity, and my little
daughter, on the Ogowe, in 1888 did so too, under my example. But her young
Negro companions soon made her afraid. True, the adult millepede ejects a
dark liquid which stained my hands and which natives said was poisonous if
taken internally. (That I never tested.)
A native friend, one of my Batanga female church-members, a sincere
Christian, of bright mind but limited education, told me recently (1902) of
her belief in the chameleon as a bad omen. She was visiting relatives a
dozen miles north. Word was sent her to return, as another relative, a woman
in my Bongaheli village, was dangerously ill. Her host told her to go, and
advised her to gather on the way a certain fern, parasitic on trees, that is
used medicinally in the disease of which the woman was sick. My friend
started on her day's journey, came to the tree, and was about to pluck the
ferns when she observed a chameleon clasping the tree; it stood still and
looked at her. She instantly
[1. Arnot.]
left the tree, abandoned the ferns, went back to tell her host that a
chameleon was in possession of them and had stared at her, and that it was
useless to gather the medicine, for she was sure their relative was dead.
And she resumed her journey, coming back to Bongaheli in order to attend the
mourning. It was true; the relative was dead, and the mourning had begun.
Her belief was not shaken when I reminded her that that chameleon was only
doing just what all chameleons do when they are not walking, and when
confronted by any one. They all clasp the branch on which they happen to be,
and stare at their supposed pursuer, if unable to escape.
LEOPARD FIENDS.
Formerly a strange superstition said that on him who should kill a leopard
there would come an evil disease, curable only by ruinously expensive
ceremonies of three weeks' duration, under the direction of the Ukuku
(Spirit) Society. So the natives allowed the greatest ravages, until their
sheep, goats, and dogs were swept away; and were aroused to self-defence
only when a human being became the victim of the daring beast. The carcass
of a leopard, or even the bones of one long dead, were not to be touched.
While I was living at Benita, about 1869, the losses by leopards became so
great that, in desperation, some of the braver young men, under my
encouragement, determined that the depredator should be caught. (Nothing was
just then said about what should be done with it when caught.) A trap was
built in one of the villages, and baited with a live goat. Soon a leopard
was entrapped. What to do with it was then the question. Some favored
leaving it alone till they could ask permission of Ukuku to kill it, even if
they had to pay heavily for the permission. Others, who had heard me laugh
at their superstition, proposed that I should be asked to shoot it. They
came at night; I willingly and promptly went with my Winchester repeating
rifle, which could easily be thrust into the chinks between the logs of
which the trap was built. When the animal was shot, came the question, Who
should remove it? None would touch it.
Among my employees were two young men of another tribe with whom that
superstition did not exist. With their aid I lifted the carcass upon a
wheelbarrow, and took it to a place where I could comfortably skin it. Some
objected to my retaining the skin. They wanted the whole animal put out of
sight. But the majority agreed that the skin should be my compensation for
my rifle's service. Then a deputation carefully followed me out on the
prairie, to see that the spot where the skinning was to be done was not near
any of their frequented paths. After the flaying was complete, what was best
to do with the carcass? The majority objected to its being buried, fearing
to tread over its grave. So I sent the two young men in a canoe, to sink the
carcass out in the river's mouth toward the sea. Even then there were those
who for two weeks afterward would eat no fish caught in the river.
With this fear of the leopard was united a superstition similar to that of
the "wehr-wolf " of Germany, viz., a belief in the power of human
metamorphosis into a leopard. The natives had learned, from foreigners who
were ignorant of the fact that there are no tigers in Africa, to call this
leopard fiend a "man-tiger." They got their fears still more mixed by a
belief in a third superstition, viz., that sometimes the dead returned to
life and committed depredations. This belief was not siniply that
disembodied spirits (mekuku) returned, but that the entire person, soul and
body (ilina na nyolo), rose temporarily from the grave, with a few changes
(among the rest, that the feet were webbed). Such a being, as mentioned in a
previous chapter, was called "Uvengwa." At one time, while I was at Benito,
intense excitement prevailed in the community: doors and shutters were
violently rattled at night; marks of leopard's claws scratched doorposts;
their tracks lay on every path; women and children in lonely places saw
their flitting forms, in the dark were knocked down by their spring, or
heard their growl in the thickets. It was difficult to decide, in hearing
these reports, whether it was a real leopard, a leopard fiend, or only an
uvengwa. To native fear, th-ey were practically the same. I felt certain
that the uvengwa was a thief disguised in a leopard skin. Under such
disguise murders were sometimes committed. By bending my thumb and fingers
into a semiclosed fist, I could make an impression in the sand that exactly
resembled a leopard's track; and this confirmed my conclusions as to the
real cause of the phenomenon.
The pioneer of the Gabun Mission, Rev. Dr. J. L. Wilson, in 1842, found the
wehr-wolf superstition prevalent among all the tribes of Southern Guinea.
The leopard "is invested with more terror than it otherwise would have, by a
superstitious apprehension on the part of the natives, that wicked men
frequently metamorphose themselves into leopards and commit all sorts of
depredations, without the liability or possibility of being killed. The real
leopard is emboldened by impunity, and often becomes a terrible scourge to
the village be infests. I have known large villages to be abandoned by their
inhabitants, because they were afraid to attack these animals on account of
their supposed supernatural powers."
At Gabun, about 1865, there still remained a jungle on one side of the
public road that constituted the one street of the town of Libreville, as it
followed the curve of the bay for three miles. There were frequent alarms
and occasional murders along lonely parts of that road. The natives believed
that the leopard fiend was a beast; the French commandant believed it was a
human being. He had the jungle cut away. Since then, no mangled bodies have
been found there.
Among the Garenganze people, in 1884, Mr. Arnot often chid them "for their
want of bravery in not hunting down the many wild animals that prey around
their towns, carrying off the sick people, and frequently attacking and
seizing solitary strangers. They excused themselves by explaining that these
wild animals are really ' men of other tribes,' turned, by the magic power
they possess, into the form of lions, panthers, or leopards, who prowl about
to take vengeance on those against whom they are embittered. In defending
this absurd theory, one man said it was not possible for a Luba and a Lamba
man to go out into the country together without one stealing a march on his
neighbor, getting out of sight, and returning again in the form of a lion or
leopard, and devouring his travelling companion. Such things, they say, are
of daily occurrence amongst them; and this foolish superstition leads them
not only to tolerate the wild animals about, but almost to bold them
sacred."
This particular superstition still exists extensively. As late as 1898, it
is stated of the Barotse of Southeast Africa: "They believe that at times
both living and dead persons can change themselves into animals, either to
execute some vengeance or to procure something that they wish for: thus a
man will change himself into a hyena or a lion in order to steal a sheep,
and make a good meal off it; into a serpent, to avenge himself on some
enemy. At other times, if they see a serpent, it is one of the 'Matotela' or
slave tribe, which has thus transformed himself to take some vengeance on
the Barotse." [1]
LUCK.
There exists a custom, even among the civilized, for the seller of an
article to hold back a small portion after his price has been paid. When I
first met with this custom, I was indignant at what seemed like stealing;
and yet it was so open, and without any attempt at concealment, that I was
amazed. One who brought for sale a bunch of plantains twisted off and took
away one of its "fingers." Another who had just been paid for a peck of
sweet potatoes deliberately picks off one tuber. Another who brought a
gazelle for sale would not complete the bargain till I had consented that be
might remove the gall-bladder and a portion of the liver. I learned that all
these were for "luck": in order that the garden whence came that plantain
bunch or potato
[1. Declč.]
should be blessed with abundance; and the hunter, that be might be
successful in his next hunt. The gazelle is credited with being a very
artful animal, the cunning being located especially in the liver.
One might ask why, if those pieces are so needed for luck, the owner did not
take them before selling, and while they were still his own and under his
entire control. I do not know their exact thought; but the statement was
that the chances of good luck were greater if the pieces of plantain,
potato, meat, etc. were abstracted after the article had actually passed out
of the seller's possession.
On the Ogowe, at Lake Azyingo, in 1874, I was present at the cutting up of a
fernale hippopotamus which a hunter had killed the night before. By favor of
the native Ajumba, chief, Anege, I was allowed to see the ceremonies. They
were many; of most of them I did not understand the significance; and the
people were loath to tell me, lest I should in some way counteract them.
Even my presence was objected to by the mother of the hunter (he, however,
was willing).
After the animal had been decapitated, and its quarters and bowels removed,
the hunter, naked, stepped into the hollow of the ribs, and kneeling in the
bloody pool contained in that hollow, bathed his entire body with that
mixture of blood and excreta, at the same time praying the life-spirit of
the hippo that it would bear him no ill-will for having killed it, and thus
cut it off from future maternity; and not to incense other hippopotami that
they should attack his canoe in revenge. (Hippos are amphibians, but are
generally killed in the water.) He kept choice parts of the flesh to
incorporate into his luck fetich.
Mr. Arnot mentions the same custom in Garenganze:
One morning I shot a hyena in my yard. The chief sent up one of his
executioners to cut off its nose and the tip of its tail, and to extract a
little bit of brain from the skull. The man informed me that these parts are
very serviceable to elephant hunters, as securing for them the cunning,
tact, and power to become invisible, which the hyena is supposed to possess.
I suppose that the brain would represent the cunning, the nose the tact, and
the tip of the tail the vanishing quality." The stomach of the hyena is
valued by the Ovimbundu (of Southwest Africa) as a cure for apoplexy.
TWINS.
Mr. Arnot states that in Garenganze "cases of infanticide are very rare.
Twins, strange to say, are not only allowed to live, but the people delight
in them." Though they are not regarded as monstrosities deserving death, as
among the Calabar people on the West Coast, it is nevertheless considered
necessary that certain preservative ceremonies should be performed on the
infants and their parents.
Mr. Swan, an associate of Mr. Arnot, describes a ceremony be was
unexpectedly made to share in while on a visit to the native king Msidi: "My
attention was drawn to a crowd of folk, mostly women, who approached,
singing and ringing a kind of bell. They formed in lines opposite to us. In
front of the rest were a man and woman, each holding a child not more than a
few days old. I learned that the little ones were twins, the man and woman
holding them being the happy parents, who had come to present their
offspring to the king. They wore nothing but a few leaves about their loins,
- a hint to Msidi, I suppose, that they would like some cloth.
"After chanting a little, an elderly woman came forward, with a dish in her
left hand and an antelope's tail in her right. When she reached Msidi, I was
astonished at her dipping the tail in the dish and dashing the liquid over
his face. Msidi's wife had a like dose. But my surprise increased when she
came to us and gave us a share. What was in the dish I cannot say, but it
struck me as possessing a very disagreeable odor. This discourteous creature
was the Ocimbanda (fetich doctor). She did not cease her dousing work till
she had favored all sitting around. The king then went into the house, and
his wife came out with some cloth, which she tied around the mother's waist;
and then a piece of cloth was given to the husband. The friends had brought
some native beer; and when Msidi came out, he went to one of the pots,
filled his mouth, spouting the beer in his wife's face; she did the same to
him, after which the spouting became general.... They told me it was their
custom to act thus when twins are born."
In the Benga tribe, thirty-five years ago, I observed that if one of a pair
of twins died, a wooden image was substituted for it on the bed or in the
cradle-box, alongside of the living child. I strongly suspected Animism in
the custom; but some Christians explained that the image was only a toy, so
that the living babe should not miss the presence of an object resembling
its mate.
Names of twins are always the same, in the same cognate tribes. In Benga
they are always Ivaha (a wish) and Ayenwe (unseen). These names are given
irrespective of sex. But not every man or woman whom one may meet with these
names is necessarily a twin. They may have inherited the name from ancestors
who were twins.
All over Africa the birth of twins is a notable event, but noted for very
different reasons in different parts of the country. In Calabar they are
dreaded as an evil omen, and until recently were immediately put to death,
and the mother driven from the village to live alone in the forest as a
punishment for having brought this evil on her people.
In other parts, as in the Gabun country, where they are welcomed, it is
nevertheless considered necessary to have special ceremonies performed for
the safety of their lives, or, if they die, to prevent further evil.
In the Egba tribes of the Yoruba country they become objects of worship. As
in other parts of Africa where twins are preserved, they are given twin
names; which, of course, differ in different languages. Among the Egbas the
firstborn is Taiwo, i.e., "the first to taste the world," and the other
Kehende, i.e., " the one who comes last."[1] About eight
[1. See" Niger and Yoruba Notes."]
days after their birth, or as soon as the parents have the money for the
sacrificial feast, they invite all relatives on both sides, neighbors and
friends together. Various kinds of food are prepared, consisting chiefly of
beans and yams. A little of each kind of food is set apart with some palm-
oil thrown upon it, and the small native plates or basins containing it are
set before the children in their cradle. They are then invoked to protect
their mother from sickness, to pity their parents and remain with them, to
watch over thern at all times. I quote in this connection the following from
a West African newspaper:
"After the ceremony an elderly man or woman who has been a twin is called
upon to split the kola nuts, in order to find out whether the children will
live or die. This is their way of asking the god or goddess to answer their
requests (and it is singular that this throwing of kolas may be done
repeatedly until the reply is favorable to the inquirer). Thus: if a kola
nut is split into four parts in throwing it down, they say, "You Idol,
please foretell if the children will live long or die.". If all the four
pieces of the kola fall flat on their backs, or all flat with their faces to
the ground, or if two of them fall with their faces downward and the other
two upward, then in each of those cases the reply is favorable, and it means
they will live long and not die. But if three pieces of the kola should turn
their faces to the ground and only one fall flat on its back, or if the
three pieces should turn their faces upward and only one downward, the reply
is unfavorable, and it means that the children will die before long. In such
cases they continue throwing the kola nut indefinitely until they obtain
their wish; or, in rare cases of total failure, the subject of inquiry is
reserved till a future time, when they hope the idol may speak more
favorably. Thus, twin children are worshipped every month.
"In some cases, where the parents have the means, an invitation goes round
to as many twins as they can get to partake of the sacrificial feasts. Of
course, the people enjoy themselves at the feast.
"The twins have everything in common; they eat the same kind of food and
wear the same dress. If one of them should die, the mother is bound to make
a wooden image to represent the dead child. This kind of image is generally
about a foot in length, and is made of Ire wood, which is flexible and
durable. It is carved in such a manner as to represent the human anatomy."
These images, substitute for a dead twin, are used very extensively among
all the tribes of Africa. Various reasons are given for their use: that the
surviving twin shall not be lonely; that the departed one may be sure it is
not forgotten; and other reasons. The images are retained as family
fetiches, to ward off evil from the mother.
"If both children should die, the mother must have two wooden images, and
regard them as her living children; she worships them every morning by
splitting kola nuts and throwing down a few drops of palm-oil before them.
Of course, the occasional feasts follow in their due course, and as
oftentimes as she may happen to see them in her dreams.
"If they should live, and both are males, they make engagements and marry at
the same time. If one is male, and the other is female, their dowry must be
given the same day; the parents believe that if things done for them are not
alike or do not go together, one will soon die."
CUSTOMS OF SPEECH.
Superstition mingles in customs of speech. There is the custom of Kombo,
existing to-day. Something about the act of sneezing is considered uncanny.
A phrase or a cabalistic word, intended as an adjuration or a protestation
in the nature of a prayer for protection or blessing, is very commonly
ejaculated by one who sneezes and sometimes when one stumbles. (In the old
despotic days of native kings, in the Benito region, if a king, on first
emerging from his house in the morning, should happen to stumble, be would
order the nearest person in sight to be killed.) That word is uttered by an
adult for
[1. From a West African Newspaper.]
himself, by a parent or other relative for an infant child. It may be an
archaism whose meaning has been forgotten. Generally the Kombo is an
epigrammatic phrase invented by the individual himself, and to be used only
by him.
Sometimes, instead of a phrase, the single word "Kombo!" as representing the
custom, is uttered.
Some forty years ago the ejaculation, before the invariable "Mbolo"
salutation was uttered, that was used by visitors to the Mpongwe king on the
south side of the Gabun estuary, was, "What evil law has God made?" The
response was, "Death!" Little as the heathen natives liked to talk of death,
their use of that word to their king was in the nature of a good wish that
he might escape the universal law. And the "Mbolo!" (gray hairs) that
followed was a wish that he might live to have gray hairs.
His son, an edueated man and a nominal Romanist, is now saluted quite as
formally, but the ejaculation has been changed to a more respectful and
Christian recognition of God.
OATHS.
Blasphemy of the Divine name, so fearfully common in professedly Christian
countries, is almost unknown to the African heathen. Though the native name
for God, Anyambe, is improperly used in names of persons (which is not
intended for disrespect), it is not often actually blasphemed. An equivalent
blasphemy, is occasionally practised in the misuse of the name of their
great and sacred spirit-society. In the Benga tribe "Saba?" and "Sabali?"
used interrogatively, mean only "True?" "Is that so?"; but, used positively,
they are of the nature of an oath, especially when the society's name (Ukuk)
was added: "Saba n' Ukuku" (True! by Ukuk!).
On the Ogowe River, in the Galwa tribe, the name of that society was Isyoga,
more commonly spoken of as Yasi. In the initiation into it the neophytes
were taught a long and very solemn adjuration, that could be uttered only
among the initiated, as an oath; but they were allowed commonly to use
simply its title "Yasi," the utterance of that one word being accompanied by
a downward sweep of the right hand over the left arm from shoulder to hand.
It was not permitted to women to speak this word.
In no tribes with which I have lived was this "By-the-Spirit" oath used so
much as among the Galwa of the Ogowe. It became monotonously frequent, in
and out of season, in all conversations and on the slightest assertion or
the simplest excitement.
I became very tired of "Yasi! Yasi! Yasi!" and that sweep of the right hand,
for the doing of which the canoe paddle or a tool was laid down. And, by the
way, the more of a liar a man was, the more frequent and vociferous was he
in his persistent use of "By Yasi!"
TOTEM WORSHIP.
Totem worship is found in Africa, though nothing at all to the extent to
which it existed among the Indian tribes of the United States, and
especially Alaska.
In Southern Africa it exists among the Bechuanas (who, however, are not pure
Bantu); not in the form of carving and setting up poles in their villages,
but in the respect which different clans give to certain animals, e.g., one
clan being known as " buffalo-men," another as "lion-men," a third as
"crocodile-men," and so forth. To each clan its totem animal is sacred, and
they will not eat of its flesh. In some parts this sanctity is regarded as
so great that actual prayer and sacrifice are made to it. But in most of the
Bantu tribes this totem idea does not exist as a worship. Indeed, the animal
(or part of an animal) is not sacred to an entire clan, but only to
individuals, for whom it is chosen on some special occasion; and its use is
prohibited only to that individual. Only in the sense that it may not be
used for common purposes is it "sacred" or "holy" to him.
TABOO.
Taboo" is a Polynesian term, and indicates that which man must not touch
because it belongs to a deity. The god's land must not be trodden, the
animal dedicated to the god must not be eaten, the chief who represents the
god must not be lightly treated or spoken of. These are examples of taboo
where the inviolable object or person belongs to a good god, and where the
taboo corresponds exactly with the rule of holiness. But instances are still
more numerous, among savages, of taboo attaching to an object because it is
connected with a malignant power. The savage is surrounded on every side by
such prohibitions; there is danger at every step that he may touch on what
is forbidden to him, and draw down on himself unforeseen penalties."[1]
This idea exists very largely in the Gabun and Loango coasts: as described
in a previous chapter, the custom is there called "orunda"; e.g., such and
such an animal (or part of an animal) is "orunda," or taboo, to such and
such a person.
The Portuguese Roman Catholic missionaries to the Kingdom of Kongo, more
than two hundred and fifty years ago, found this custom "of interdicting to
every person at their birth some one article of food, which they were not
through life, upon any consideration, to put into their mouths. This
practice was regarded [by those Roman Catholic priests] as specially
heathenish, and was unconditionally" forbidden.
Explanation may here be found why a church which two hundred years ago had
baptized members by the hundreds of thousands, with large churches, fine
cathedrals, schools, colleges, and political backing, and no other form of
Christianity to compete with it, shows in Kongo to-day no results in the
matters of civilization, education, morality, or pure religion. Its baptism
was only an outward one, the heathen native gladly accepting it as a
powerful charm. For each and all his heathen fetiches the priest simply
substituted a Roman Catholic relic. The ignorant African, while he learned
to bow to the Virgin, kept on worshipping also fetich. The Virgin was only
just another fetich. The Roman Catholic priests were to him only another set
of powerful fetich doctors. They commanded that, instead of the orunda, "
the
[1. Menzies, History of Religion, p. 71.]
parents should enjoin their children to observe some particular devotion,
such as to repeat many times a day the rosary or the crown, in honor of the
Virgin; to fast on Saturdays; to eat no flesh on Wednesdays; and such other
things as are used among Christians."
A similar substitution was made in the case of a superstition of the Kongo
country which exists universally among all African tribes to-day, viz., " to
bind a cord of some kind around the body of every new-born infant, to which
were fastened the bones and teeth of certain kinds of wild animals." In
place of this, the Roman Catholic records enjoin "that all mothers should
make the cords with which they bound their infants, of palm-leaves that had
been consecrated on Palm Sunday, and, moreover, guard them well with other
such relies as we are accustomed to use at the time of baptism."
Thus the heathen, in becorning a baptized "Christian," left behind him only
the name of his fetich ceremonies. Some new and professedly more powerful
ones were given him, which were called by Christian names, but which very
much resembled what he had been using all his life. His "conversion" caused
no jar to his old beliefs, nor change in its practice, except that the new
fetich was worshipped in a cathedral and before a bedizened altar.
BAPTISM.
Forty years ago, on Corisco Island, I found the remains of a custom which
resembled baptism.[1] Before that time it was very prevalent in other parts
of the Gabun country, whose people probably had derived it, like their
circumcision, from East Africa and from Jewish traditions. As described at
that time, "a public crier announces, the birth, and claims for the child a
name and place among the living. Some one else, in a distant part of the
village, acknowledges the fact, and promises, on the part of the people,
that the
[1. See an illustration of it on p. 102 of my "Crowned in Palm-Land"; an
infant is lying on a plantain leaf in the street.]
new-born babe shall be received into the community, and have all the rights
and immunities pertaining to the rest of the people. The population then
assemble in the street, and the new-born babe is brought out and exposed to
public view. A basin of water is provided, and the headman of the village or
family sprinkles water upon it, giving it a name, and invoking a blessing
upon it, such as, that it may have health, grow up to manhood or womanhood,
have a numerous progeny, possess much riches, etc."[1] The circumcision of
the child is performed some years later.
SPITTING.
The same Benga word, "tuwaka," to spit, is one of the two words which mean
also "to bless." In pronouncing a blessing there is a violent expulsiou of
breath, the hand or head of the one blessed being held so near the face of
the one blessing that sometimes in the act spittle is actually expelled upon
him.
This blessing superstition exists among the Barotse of South Africa (whose
dialect is remarkably like the Benga). "Relatives take leave of each other
with elaborate ceremony. They spit upon each other's faces and heads, or,
rather, pretend to do so, for they do not actually emit saliva. They also
pick up blades of grass, spit upon them, and stick them about the beloved
head. They also spit on the bands: all this is done to warn off evil
spirits. Spittle also acts as a kind of taboo. When they do not want a thing
touched, they spit on straws, and stick them all about the object." [2]
NOTICE OF CHILDREN.
Recently (1903), in passing through a street of Libreville, I saw seven
women sitting on the clay floor of the wide veranda of a house. In their
arms or playing on the ground were a number of children. I was attracted by
their gambols, and stopped on my way, and having saluted the mothers, I
began to notice the children. The women knew me by sight,
[1. Wilson, Western Africa.
2. Declč.]
but I was a stranger to most of them. I thought they would be pleased by
attention to their children. There were seven of them; and I exclaimed, "Oh!
so many children!" And I began counting them, "One, two, three, four -" But
I was interrupted by a chorus from the mothers, of "No! no! no! Stop! That
is not good! The spirits will hear you telling how many there are, and they
will come and take some away!" They were quite vexed at me. But I could not
understand why, if spirits -can see, they would not know the number without
hearing my count. Perhaps my enthusiastic counting brought the number more
obviously to the attention of the surrounding spirits.
CHAPTER XIV
FETICH -ITS RELATION TO THE FUTURE LIFE - CEREMONIES AT DEATHS AND FUNERALS
WHEN a heathen Negro is sick, the first thing done, just as in civilized
lands, is to call the "doctor," who is to find out what is the particular
kind of spirit that, by invading the patient's body, has caused the
sickness.
This diagnosis is not made by an examination and comparison of the physical
and mental symptoms, but by drum, dance, frenzied song, mirror, fumes of
drugs, consultation of relies, and conversation with the spirit itself.
Next, as also in civilized lands, must be decided the ceremony particular to
that spirit, and the vegetable and mineral substances supposed to be either
pleasing or offensive to it. If all those cannot be obtained, the patient
must die; the assumption probably being that some unknown person is
antagonizing the "doctor" with arts of sorcery.
Fearing this, all the family relatives and friends come, hav ing been
informed by a messenger of the state of the case. They speak to and try to
comfort the sick, as would be done in civilization. But to believers in
fetich their coming means more than that. They have come from distant places
as soon as the news had spread that their relative was seriously ill,
without waiting for summons. Their coming is, indeed, a necessary mark of
respect for the sick; but it may happen, too, in case of the sick man's
dying, that it would be a proof for them of their innocence if a charge
should come up of witchcraft as the cause of death. The neglect to make this
prompt visit of condolence would be resented by the sick should he recover,
or, in case of his death, in the days when witcheraft arts were more common,
would have been held as a proof that the absentee had purposely absented
himself, under a sense of guilt.
In the sick man's village there already has been a slight wailing the while
that be is dying. Before life is extinct, and while yet the sick may still
be conscious though speechless, a low wail of mourning is raised by the
female relatives who have gathered in the room.
These visitors have sat quietly in the sick-room while the patient was still
conscious. To a foreigner that quiet is very strange in its oppressive
silence and in the stolidity of faces (at other times expressive), whose
very reason for being present is supposed to be the expression of sympathy.
Only a few assist in the making of food or medicine for the patient, even
when the medicines are not fetich. All the others are spectators, smoking,
lounging, dozing, or, if conversing, speaking in a low tone. At the first
report that death has actually come, the women break into a louder wail.
But about a quarter of an hour is spent by some of the old members of the
family, testing to see whether life is really extinct. When that fact is
fully certified to the crowd in the street, the wailing breaks forth
unrestrainedly from men, women, and children. The moment that death is
declared, grief is demonstrated in screams, shrieks, yells, pitiful
supplication, and extravagant praise by the entire village.
Shortly after this first frantic outburst quiet is ordered, and the
arrangements for burial begin. The body is bathed and the limbs are
straightened. The stomach is squeezed so as to make the contents emerge from
the mouth in order that decomposition may be delayed and the body kept as
long as possible. The time will vary according to the necessity of the case
and the social position of the dead. Usually the corpse is retained only one
day; but in case of a prominent person as many as five days, and in case of
kings in some tribes, e.g., of Loango, the rotting corpse, rolled in many
pieces of matting, is retained for weeks.
When the washing and vomiting have been done, the corpse is dressed in its
finest clothing. The bed-frame is often enlarged so that many of the chief
mourners may be able to sit on it.
The body is generally taken from the bed and laid on a piece of matting on
the floor. The chief female mourner is given the post of honor, to sit
nearest to the dead, holding the head in her lap.
During the time until the burial the women keep bending the joints of the
corpse to prevent the body becoming stiff. The day before the burial (but if
in haste, on the very day of the death) the coffin is made. During the
making the mourning which had been resumed is again bidden to cease, in
order that the spirit may be pleased with the wooden house that is being
constructed for it. For the same reason the wailing is again intermitted
while the grave is being dug. Those who are digging it must not be called
off or interrupted in any way. When begun, the job must be continued to
completion.
After the grave is completed, when they leave it and go to arrange the
coffin, they must put into the excavation some article, e.g., a stick of
wood, as a notice to any other wandering spirit not to occupy that grave.
When all these preparations are complete, the corpse is laid in the coffin,
and some goods of the deceased, such as pieces of cloth and other clothing,
are stuffed into it for his use in the other world. If the deceased was
addicted to smoking, a pipe and tobacco are laid in the coffin, or if
accustomed to spirituous drink, some liquor is often placed there, either
native palm-wine or foreign rum.
Recently, while the Rev. F. S. Myongo, a native clergyman, was visiting on
Corisco Island, be saw a mother put into a coffin a bundle of salt for her
daughter to eat in the future world.
If the deceased was a rich man, the people of his mother's side do not allow
him to be buried without their first being given a part of his property by
the people of the father's side.
If there be a suspicion that he has been killed by witchcraft, and yet not
enough proof to warrant a public charge and investigation, the relatives
take amomum seeds (cardamom), chew them, and put them into the mouth of the
dead, as a sign that the spirit shall itself execute vengeance on the
murderer, and that the survivors will take no further steps. It is a nolle
prosequi of a judicial case.
All being ready, the lid of the coffin is nailed down, except in the case of
a first-born only child, as has been stated.
In former days, before coffins were used, the bamboo tatta of the bed-frame,
the pandanus leaf mat, palm-fibre mosquito-net, and other bedding were all
rolled about the corpse as it lay, and were buried with it.
While the corpse is being arranged in the coffin, the women have resumed
their wailing. The coffin is lifted by strong men and hurriedly taken to the
grave, the locality of which varies in different tribes, - sometimes in the
adjacent forest, sometimes in the kitchen-garden of plantains immediately in
the rear of the village houses, sometimes under the clay floor of the
dwelling-house. With the men who are carrying the coffin may go some women
as witnesses.
Formerly also slaves carried boxes of the dead man's goods, cloth, hardware,
crockery, and so forth, to be laid by the body, which in those days was not
interred, but was left on the top of the ground covered with branches and
leaves.
In carrying the coffin to the grave it must not be taken through the village
street but by the rear of the houses, lest the village be "defiled." As a
result of such "defilement," all sorts of difficulties will arise, such as
poor crops from the gardens and short supplies of fish.
The coffin is laid with the face of the dead looking eastward. During the
interment people must not be moving about from place to place, but must
remain at whatever spot they were when the coffin passed, until the burial
is completed.
The digging of the grave, the carrying of the coffin, and the closing of the
grave are all done only by men. When these have finished the work of burial,
they are in great fear, and are to run rapidly to their village, or to the
nearest body of water, river or lake or sea. If in their running one should
trip and fall, it is a sign that he will soon die. They plunge into the
water as a means of "purification" from possible defilement. The object of
this purification is not simply to cleanse the body, but to remove the
presence or contact of the spirit of the dead man or of any other spirit of
possible evil influence, lest they should have ill-luck in their fishing,
hunting, and other work.
During the time of these burial and other ceremonies the women have
refrained from their mourning.
Women who have babes must not go along the route that was taken in the
carrying of the coffin, lest their children shall become sick.
When all parties have returned from the grave, the wailing is resumed. They
all mark their faces with ashes, and then begins the regular official kwedi
(mourning). During the continuance of this, pregnant women and mothers with
young children are not allowed to come near lest evil happen to them. To
prevent any possibility of the just-departed spirit injuring any children of
the village, leaves of a common weed, kālākāhi, are laid on their heads.
The day after the funeral a decoction is made of the bark of a well-known
tree, bolondo. With it the doctor sprinkles the people, their houses, their
utensils and weapons, and the two entrances to the village. During the
ceremony the people are shouting an ejaculatory prayer, "Goods! Possessions!
Wealth! Do not allow confusions to come to us!" this is distinctly a
petition that the spirit should bring to them goods or help them to obtain
wealth; "Let us have food!" and many other similar cries for good things.
What remains in the vessel of the decoction of bolondo bark after the
general sprinkling is carried to the ends of the village street, and emptied
there, as a prevention against the entry of evil spirits.
Also there is made a mixture of scrapings of bolondo, powdered red-wood, and
chalk. This is rubbed on the cheeks of the people to keep off the evil
spirits. It is rubbed also, for that same purpose, on the walls of houses.
The cutlass (machete) and native hoe that was used in the digging of the
grave are washed with the bolondo decoction after having been left exposed
to rain over night.
Then one of the houses of the village is chosen as the ndabo ya kwedi (house
of mourning). The mourners are to sit only in that house. If they should eat
in any other house, the spirit of the dead would come and eat with them and
would make them sick. During the days of kwedi the men go in the mornings to
fish; while they are away at the work, the weeping is intermitted lest in
some way it spoil the fishing.
The bedstead in the house of mourning must be constantly occupied, even
during the daytime, by some persons sitting there, lest the spirit come to
take any vacant space; and the house itself must not, by day or night, be
without some occupant. The near relatives, when one has occasion to go out
of that house, must not go unaccompanied, lest the spirit follow them and
attempt to resume earthly companionship and thus injure them.
If it was a great man who has died, an occasional dance is held during the
prescribed mourning time to please his spirit, which is supposed to be
walking around and observing what is done.
The kwedi formerly lasted a month, or, for a prominent person, a month and a
half.
People who while they were living were supposed to have witch power are
believed to be able to rise in an altered form from their graves. To prevent
one who is thus suspected from making trouble, survivors open the grave, cut
off the head, and throw it into the sea,-or in the interior, where there is
no great body of water, it is burned; then a decoction of the bolondo bark
is put into the grave. (The bolondo is a poison; even a little of it may be
fatal.)
When affairs are going wrong in the villages,and the people do not know the
cause, offerings of food and drink are taken to the grave to cause the
spirit to cease disturbing them, and pravers are made to it that it may the
rather bless them.
If the deceased was (a very important per-son, the kwedi is interrupted on
the fifth day, for the selection of his successor as chief or king. This
ceremony is called "ampenda" (glories). The successor is placed on the
vacant seat or "throne"; and songs are sung in his praise. But first, a
herald is sent to the forest, or wherever the burial was made, to call the
dead to come and dispute his right to the throne, if he be not really dead.
The herald stands and calls on the dead by name", Such an one!" This he does
slowly once, twice, thrice, until five times. He returns, and reports to the
waiting assembly, "He is really dead. I called five times, and he did not
answer." Then, this herald, standing in the street before all the people,
praises the dead for all his good deeds, and blames for some of his bad
ones. He turns to the chosen successor sitting on the throne, and asks
pardon for the candor he is about to exercise: "To-morrow I will bow to you
and take off my hat., but to-day I will tell the whole truth about you."
Turning to the crowd, he says, " The man who is gone was good, and be has
given us this new man. We hope that he too will be good. You all help me now
to tell him his bad points." Then, addressing the new chief, he specifies,
"You have a bad habit of so and so." And the crowd responds affirmatively,
"Bad! cease it!" After this, when the herald has ended his own list of
rebukes, any one else may call him aside and tell him of any other evil of
which be knows, and ask him to direct the new king to reform it. This
ceremony was particularly observed by the Mpongwe-speaking tribes of the
Gabun country. In the presence of the domination by foreign governments, but
little of it now exists there or in any other tribes to the north.
In the improvised songs and ejaculations of the kwedi period the goodness
and greatness of the dead are recounted. The praise is fulsome, exaggerated,
and often preposterously untrue. Some declare their hopelessness of ever
again seeing any joy. Supplications are shrieked by others for the departed
to come back and reanimate the dead body. By most the wailing is a song in
moans. Men tear their garments; women dishevel their hair; all take off
their ornaments, and disfigure their faces with ashes or clay. The female
relatives reduce their clothing to a minimum of decency. In all tribes
formerly, and in some interior tribes still, the wives are made naked, and
compelled to remain so for months, especially if they were known not to have
been as submissive as is expected in the slavery of savage African marriage.
During my early days in the Ogowe, about 1876, a native Akele chief, Kasa,
who had been my patron at my first residence in the Ogowe, Belambila, died
after I had removed to my second station, Kangwe. I made a ceremonious visit
of respect and condolence about a month after his death, for Kasa, though a
heathen and often cruel, to me had been true and helpful. His family
appreciated the compliment of my visit. I looked around the room, and missed
his wives. I did not know that they had been divested of all clothing. I
asked for them. A man hastened to go out and call them. I wondered somewhat
at the delay in their coming. I was afterward told that though they were
accustomed to the disgrace of nakedness before native eyes, they did not
wish to meet mine, for I had always treated them respectfully. A half-dozen
of them sidled into the room, each carrying in their hands, as their only
protection, a plate, and quickly huddled together in a corner of the room. I
as quickly dismissed them, telling them I had not known of the rule under
which they were living.
In the Batanga interior, among the Bulu-Fang tribe, where women at all times
wear scarcely any clothing, most widows are still required to go perfectly
naked, sometimes for a whole year.
All this wailing and mourning, while sincere on the part of some, is by most
simply a yielding to the contagion of sympathy. By some it is a mere
formality, and with many even a pretence.
In the older days, before Christianity had obtained any influence, or before
foreign governments had exercised power to force away barbarous rites and
compel civilized ones, when almost every death was regarded as due to the
exercise of black art, and was always followed by a witchcraft investigation
and by the putting to death of from one to ten socalled "witches" and
"wizards" (in the case of kings, fifty to one hundred), no one, except the
doctor and his secret councillors, knew on whom suspicion for the death
might fall, and all were quick to be demonstrative in their grief, whether
real or feigned, as a means of warding off the dreaded accusation against
themselves.
Though those witchcraft executions have ceased wherever foreign power
exists, the wailing is still as demonstrative, either as a sign of real
grief or as a mere custom; and the mourning after burial continued for weeks
(or even months) is an enormous evil. Wives and husbands abandoning their
duties to their own villages; children either slighted at their own homes or
idly helping to swell the confusion at the town of mourning; men neglecting
their fishing, and women neglecting their gardens, -all these visitors are
an expensive draft on the hospitality and resources of the town of kwedi, or
on their other relatives who may happen to be living near. Inevitably there
is not enough food for all, and they stanch their hunger by immoderate
drinking of foreign alcoholic liquors.
After the first paroxysms of grief, in a few days the mourning is reduced to
a perfunctory wail by the women for a short time each morning and evening.
The remainder of the day is spent in idle talk, which always runs into
quarrels; and the nights in dances, which generally end in dissolute
revelry. A month of mourning lays up a list of assignations and intrigues
that result in trials for adultery and broken marriage relations.
The feelings in the hearts of the mourners are very mixed. The outcry of
affection, pleading with the dead to return to life, is sincere, the
survivor desiring the return to life to be complete; but almost simultaneous
with that cry comes a fear that the dead may indeed return, not as the
accustomed embodied spirit, helpful and companionable, but as a disembodied
spirit, invisible, estranged, perhaps inimical, and surrounded byan
atmosphere of dread imparted bythe unknown and the unseen. The many then
ask, not that the departed may return, but that, if it be hovering near, it
will go away entirely.
Few were those who during the life of the departed had not on occasions had
some quarrel with him, or had done him some injustice or other wrong, and
their thought is, "His spirit will come back to avenge itself!" So guns are
fired to frighten away the spirit, and to cause it to go off to the far
world of spirits, and not take up a residence in or near the town to haunt
and injure the living.
Nevertheless, the kwedi is kept up, if for nothing else than to satisfy the
self-complacence of the dead. It is believed that the dead, sometimes
dissatisfied with the extent or character of the mourning ceremony, have
returned and inflicted some sickness on the village, for the removal of
which other cerernonies have to be performed.
Thus far acts which are dictated by natural feelings, good and otherwise,
have been dealt with; but there are a multitude of other ceremonies, varied
in different tribes and never the same in any one tribe, which are performed
under the direct influence of religious duty as well as superstitious fear.
What has been thus far described is especially true of the Mpongwe, Benga,
and Batanga tribes of western Equatorial Africa, typical for most Bantu
tribes of the continent. The following quotations afford a comparison of the
burial customs of savages in other regions with those I have observed:
Lumholtz,[1] describing the burial customs of Australia, writes: "The
natives in the neighborhood of Portland Bay, in the southwestern part of
South Australia, cremate their dead by placing the corpse in a hollow tree
and setting fire to it.... The natives of Australia have this peculiarity,
in common with the savages of other countries, that they never utter the
names of the dead, lest their spirits should hear the voices of the living
and thus discover their whereabouts. There seems to be a widespread belief
in the soul's existence
[1. Among Cannibals, pp. 278-279.]
independently of matter. On this point Fraser relates that the Kulie tribe
(Victoria) believes that every man and animal has a muriep (ghost or spirit)
which can pass into other bodies. A person's muriep may in his lifetime
leave his body and visit other people in his dreams. After death the muriep
is supposed to appear again, to visit the grave of its former possessor, to
communicate with living persons in their dreams, to eat remnants of food
lying near the camp, and to warm itself by the night fires. A similar belief
has been observed among the blacks of Lower Guinea. On my travels I, too,
found a widespread fear of the spirits of the dead, to which the imagination
of the natives attributed all sorts of remarkable qualities. The greater the
man was on earth, the more his departed spirit is feared.... An old warrior
who has been a strong man and therefore much respected by his tribe, is,
after his death, put on a platform made with forked sticks, cross-pieces,
and a sheet or two of bark; he is hoisted up amidst a pandemonium of noise,
howling, and wailing, besides much cutting with tomahawks, and banging of
heads with nolla-nollas. He is laid on his back with his knees up, like the
females, and the grass is cleared away from under and around. The place is
now for a long time carefully avoided, till he is quite shrivelled,
whereupon his bones are taken away and put in a tree.
"The common man is buried like a woman, only that logs are put over him, and
his bones are not removed. Young children are put bodily into the trees.
"The fact that the natives bestow any care on the bodies of the dead is
doubtless owing to the fear of the spirits of the departed. In some places I
have seen the legs drawn and tied fast to the bodies, in order to hinder the
spirits of the dead, as it were, from getting out to frighten the living.
Women and children, whose spirits are not feared, receive less attention and
care after death.
"In several tribes it is customary to bury the body where the person was
born. I know of a case where a dying man was transported fifty miles in
order to be buried in the place of his nativity. It has even happened that
the natives have begun digging outside a white man's kitchen door, because
they wanted to bury an old man born there. In Central Queensland I saw many
burial-places on hills. Such are also said to be found in New South Wales
and in Victoria. These burial grounds have been in use for centuries, and
are considered sacred.
"In South Australia and in Victoria the bead is not buried with the body,
for the skull is preserved and used as a drinking-cup. It is a common custom
to place the dead between pieces of bark and grass on a scaffold, where they
remain till they are decayed, and then the bones are buried in the ground.
"In the northern part of Queensland I have heard people say that the natives
have a custom of placing themselves under these scaffolds to let the fat
drop on them, and that they believe that this puts them in possession of the
strength of the dead man.
"A kind of mummy dried by the aid of fire and smoke, is also found in
Australia; male children are most frequently prepared in this manner. The
corpse is then packed into a bundle, which is carried for some time by the
mother. She has it with her constantly, and at night sleeps with it at her
side. After about six months, when nothing but the bones remain, she buries
it in the earth. Full-grown men are also sometimes carried in this manner,
particularly the bodies of great warriors."
W. H. Brown, in "On the South African Frontier," describes a burial in
Mashona-land: "When a member of the community dies, he or she, as the case
may be, is usually buried under a shelf of rock in a reclining position,
with arms folded and legs doubled up. In some districts, where heaps of
rocks are scarce, I have seen graves made in large ant-heaps. As a rule, a
small canopy or thatched roof is built over the grave, and under this it is
common to see placed, as an offering, a pot of beer and a plate of sadza.
The beer evaporates, and the ants eat the sadza; but, to the Mashona mind,
the disappearance is due to supernatural causes. At the burial the near
relatives of the deceased cry aloud. I was camping one night near a village
where a child died. The obsequies took place next morning between dawn and
sunrise. The mother cried loudly while the ceremony was proceeding, but her
wailing ceased soon after the funeral, and there was no more noise made over
it. I went into the village about two hours later, and saw some men, women,
and children quietly sitting around the hut in which the death had taken
place, and looking very solemn. The child was about two weeks old, and the
cause of death was attributed by the Mashonas to the fact that the mother
had not given beer to her grandfather when he wanted it at his death.
"If a woman's husband dies, and she afterwards procures another, the new man
takes up his abode in the hut of the dead one, becomes owner of his assegais
and battle-axes, and assumes his name. Whether or not the second husband is
supposed to enter into possession of the spirit of the deceased, I could not
discover. Some Mashonas have told me that they believe that the spirits of
their departed relatives enter the bodies of animals, particularly those of
lions.
"At the end of the lunar month during which a death has taken place, the
surviving partner, man or woman, kills a goat, and its meat is cooked, as
well as quantities of other food, and a large amount of Kaffir beer is
brewed. The people gather from the neighboring kraals, and an all-night
feast and dance ensue.
"Monthly 'dead-relative dances,' which are called 'machae' are very common;
and if no one has been accommodating enough to die during the month, the
feast and dance may be held in honor of some one who departed years before."
A similar dance is held in the Gabun region of West Africa, partly as a
consolatory amusement for the living, near the close of whatever prescribed
time of mourning. It is called "Ukukwe" (for the spirit), as if for the
gratification of the hovering spirit of the dead; but in many places in that
region this dance has lost all reference to or for the dead, or even any
connection with a time of mourning, and has become simply a common
amusement.
In the Bihe country of Southwest Africa,[1] "death is surrounded by many
strange and absurd superstitions. It is considered essential that a man
should die in his own country, if not in his own town. On the way to
Bailundu, shortly after leaving Bihe territory, I met sorne men running at
great speed, carrying a sick man tied to a pole, in order that be might die
in his own country. I tried to stop them; but they were running, as fast as
their burden would allow them, down a steep rocky bill. By the sick man's
convulsive movements I could see that be was in great pain, perhaps in his
death throes; hence the great haste. If a Bailundu man dies in Bibe, the
Bibe people have to pay the Bailundu heavily for the shameful conduct of the
Bihe demons in killing a stranger; and vice versa.
"When a man dies at home, his body is placed on a rude table, and his
friends meet for days round the corpse, drinking, eating, shouting, and
singing, until the body begins actually to fall to pieces. Then the body is
tied in a fagot of poles and carried on men's shoulders up and down some
open space, followed by doctors and drummers. The doctors demand of the dead
man the cause of his death, whether by poison or witchcraft; and if by the
latter, who was the witch? Most of the deaths I have known of in Negro-land
were from pulmonary diseases, but all were set down to witchcraft. The
jerking of the bier to and fro, causing the men bearing it to stumble hither
and thither, is taken as the dead man's answer; thus, as in the case of
spirit-rapping at home, the reply is spelled out. The result of this enquiry
is implicitly believed in; and, if the case demands it, the witch is
drowned."
Among the Barotse of South Africa [2] "funerals take place at night, and
generally immediately after death, while the
[1. Arnot, Garenganze, p. 116.
2 Deck, Three Years in Savage Africa, pp. 74-79.]
body is still warm. If the person, when alive, possessed the skin of an
animal, they wrap the body in it, and also in a -plain mat, and then bury it
near the hut. But death inspires them with a mortal terror, and thus the hut
of the dead man is nearly always abandoned. Anything that has been used for
the burial, such as the wood. on which the corpse was carried, is left near
the grave. It is the fashion to display great external signs of grief, howls
and cries of lamentation and the like. Formerly the graves of chiefs were
distinguished by elephant tusks turned toward the east. All cattle belonging
to the deceased are killed; and any animal of which he was particularly
fond, such as the cow whose milk he drank, is killed first. They bury in the
kraal itself those who died in the kraal; but whenever it is possible, the
dying are taken out and laid in the fields or forest. There are two reasons
for this: first, they think that away from other people is a better chance
of the invalid making a recovery; and, secondly, wherever the person dies he
must be buried; therefore, if possible, far from their habitations. When a
man dies, visits of condolence are paid to the relatives, the visitors
bringing a calf or a head of cattle as a mark of sympathy, which is killed
and eaten as a kind of consolation. The night after the funeral is passed in
tears and cries, A few days later, the doctor comes and makes an incision on
the forehead of each of the survivors, and fills it with medicine, in order
to ward off contagion and the effect of the sorcery which caused the death.
They place on their tombs some souvenir of the profession or vocation of the
defunct; for example,-if he had been a hunter, horns or skins; if a
chairmaker, a chair; and so on. Over the grave a sacred tree is planted. The
tree is a kind of laurel called 'morata.'... A man will kill himself on the
tomb of his chief; he thinks, as he passes near by, that he hears the dead
man call him and bid him bring him water. These natives believe in
transmigration of the soul into animals; thus, the hippopotamus is believed
to shelter the spirit of a chief. Nevertheless, they do not appear very
clear that the soul can not be in two places at once; else, if a chief has
become a hippopotamus in the Zambesi, why should one slay one's self to
bring water to his tomb?"
Perhaps Declč was not aware of a widespread belief in a dual soul,
consisting of a "spirit," that, as far as known, lives forever in the world
of spirits, and a "shadow" that for an uncertain length of time hovers
around the mortal remains. Some, as already mentioned in a previous chapter,
also name a third entity, the "life,"-that which, being "eaten" by
sorcerers, causes the living being to sicken, and which the sorcerer, if
detected, can be compelled to return to its owner. Miss Kingsley thought
also she had discovered a belief in a fourth entity, the "dream-soul." But
this, though doubtless believed in as that which sometimes leaves the
sleeping body and goes on distant wanderings, is the same as the "spirit,"
during whose temporary absence the body continues its breathing and other
physical motions, in virtue of the presence of its second and third soul-
entities.
The funeral practices of all the tribes, with very few exceptions, over all
Africa, however much they may and do vary, contain all of them, as shown by
the preceding quotations, a decided belief in, and fear of, the intelligent
and probably inimical activity of the spirits of their dead. They include
also the custom of the burial with the dead man of more or less of his
property, together with the destruction of such things as cannot be
conveniently placed in the grave, - clothing, crockery, utensils, wives,
slaves, trees of fruitage, etc.
Even among the civilized and enlightened, while of course there would be no
excessive destruction of property, nor murder of widow or slave, an
extravagant amount of wearing apparel is stuffed into the coffin (which is
sometimes made large for that purpose) as a sign of the importance of the
dead, and of the sacrifice the love and grief of the living are willing to
make.
The residence of the transmigrated spirit is probably not a permanent one.
The Wa-nya-mwesi of East Africa "believe in transmigration both during life
and after it. Thus, according to them, a sorcerer can transform himself into
a wild animal to injure his enemies; but in such cases the change is not
permanent, and the soul does not remain in its new habitation."[1]
Leaving out of view the immense difference, caused by the absence of
Christianity, in the moral life of native Africa, as compared with that of
the United States, there is no one thing that more painfully strikes me, in
the low civilization of the former, than their customs for the dead. It
would occupy too much space to recount at length all the reasons the natives
give for their sometimes apparently heartless ceremonies. The true
explanation lies in their belief in witchcraft and their fear of spirits.
From the testimony of travellers, burial customs are much the same all over
Africa. What I have written is my personal knowledge of what prevails on the
West Coast, in the equatorial regions, and especially in the portion lying
along the course of the Ogowe River, -a river that was first brought to
public notice through the writings of Paul Du Chaillu, the journeys of a
British trader, Mr. R.B.N. Walker, and subsequently by the thorough
explorations of Count P. S. De Brazza.
There are in Africa social distinctions of rich and poor, higher and lower
classes, just as there are, and always will be, all the world over, the
claims of communism to the contrary notwithstanding. These distinctions
follow their subjects to the grave, - just as, in our own civilization, one
is laid in the sculptured cemetery and another in the Potter's Field.
The African burial-grounds are mostly in the forest, in the low-lying lands
and tangled thickets along the sea-beach, or the banks of rivers. Hills and
elevated building-sites are reserved for villages and plantations. If a
traveller, in journeying along the main river of the country, observes long
reaches of uncleared thickets, he will probably be
[1. Declč.]
correct in suspecting that these are burial-grounds. His native crew will be
slow to inform him of the fact or to converse on the subject, unless to
object to an order to go ashore there.
Some of the interior tribes bury all their dead under the clay floors of
their houses. The living are thus actually treading and cooking their food
over the graves of their relatives.
This mode of burial is reserved as a distinction, in the case of some coast
tribes, for a very few of their honored chiefs, or for a specially loved
relative.
Over or near the graves of the rich are built little huts, where are laid
the common articles used by them in their life, - pieces of crockery,
knives, sometimes a table, mirrors, and other goods obtained in foreign
trade. Once, in ascending the Ogowe, I observed, tied to the branches of a
large tree extending over the stream from the top of the bank, a wooden
trade-chest, five pitchers and mugs, and several fathoms of calico prints. I
was informed that the grave of a lately deceased chief was near, that these
articles were signs of his wealth, and were intended as offerings to spirits
to induce them to draw to the villages of his people the trade of passing
merchant vessels.
A noticeable fact about these gifts to the spirits is that, however great a
thief a man may be, he will not steal from a grave. The coveted mirror will
lie there and waste in the rain, and the valuable garment will flap itself
to rags in the wind, but human hands will not touch them. Sometimes the
temptation to steal is removed by the donor fracturing the article before it
is laid on the grave.
Actual interment is generally given to all who in life were regarded as at
all worthy of respect. Native implements for excavating being few and small,
the making of a grave is quite a task; it is often, therefore, made no
deeper than is actually sufficient for covering the corpse. This, according
to the greatness of the dead or the wealth of the family, is variously
encased, Sometimes it is placed in a coffin made of the ends of an old
canoe; or, more shapely, of boards cut from the canoe's bottom and sides;
or, even so expensively as to use two trade-boxes, making one long one by
knocking out an end from each and telescoping them.
Sometimes the corpse is cast out on the surface of the ground, and perhaps a
pile of stones or brushwood gathered over it. Sometimes it lies uncovered.
Sometimes they are cast into the river.
Many years ago, I was ascending the Ogowe River in my boat, painfully
toiling against the current. I had unwisely refused the wish of my crew to
stop for our mid-day meal at a desirable ulako (camping-ground), as the hour
was too early; and I determined to go on, and stop at some other place. But
I regretted presently; for, instead of finding forest and high camping-
ground, we came to a long stretch of papyrus swamp; and, after that, to low
jungle. We pulled on for another mile, the sun growing hotter, along the
unsheltered bank, and we growing faint with hunger as the hour verged to
noon. Becoming desperate, I directed the crew to stop at the very first spot
that was solid enough for foothold, intending to eat our dry rice without
fire. Presently we came to a clump of oil-palms. Their existence showed
solid ground, and I seized the rudder and ran the boat ashore. The crew
objected, hungry though they were, that "it was not a good place "; but they
did not mention why. I jumped ashore, however, and ordered them to follow,
and gather sticks for fire. As they were rather slow in so doing, and I
overheard murmuring that "firewood is not gotten from palm trees" (which is
true), I set them an example by starting off on a search myself.
I had not gone far before 1 found a pile of brushwood, and, rejoicing at my
success, I called out to the crew to come and carry it. While they were
coming, I stooped down and laid hold of an eligible stick. But an odor
startled me; and the other sticks that I had dislocated falling apart, there
was revealed a human foot and shin, which, from the ornaments still
remaining about the ankle, I suppose was a woman's.
My attendants fled; and I re-embarked in the boat, sufficiently unconscious
of hunger to await it late meal that was not cooked until we reached a
comfortable village a short distance beyond. My crew then explained their
slowness to obey me at that clump of palm trees, by saying that they knew it
looked like a burying-place.
A less respectful mode of burial (if, indeed, the term be not a misnomer) is
applied to the poor, to the friendless aged who have wearied out the
patience of relatives by a long sickness, and to those whose bodies are
offensive by a leprous or otherwise ulcerous condition. Immediately that
life seems extinct (and sometimes even before) the wasted frame is tied up
in the rnat on which it is lying, and, slung from a pole on the shoulders of
two men, is flung out on the surface of the ground in the forest, to become
the prey of wild beasts and the scavenger "driver" (Termes bellicosa) ants.
Of one tribe in the upper course of the Ogowe, I was told, who, in their
intense fear of ghosts, and their dread of the possible evil influence of
the spirits of their own dead relatives, sometimes adopt a horrible plan for
preventing their return. With a very material idea of a spirit, they seek to
disable it by beating the corpse until every bone is broken. The mangled
mass is bung in a bag at the foot of a tree in the forest. Thus mutilated,
the spirit is supposed to be unable to return to the village, to entice into
its fellowship of death any of the survivors.
Some dead bodies are burned, particularly those of criminals. Persons
convicted on a charge of witchcraft are "criminals," and are almost
invariably killed. Sometimes they are beheaded. I have often had in my
possession the curved knives with which this operation is performed.
Sometimes torture is used: a common mode is to roast the condemned over a
slow fire, which is made under a stout bed-frame built for the purpose. In
such a case almost the entire body is reduced to ashes. When I was clearing
a piece of ground at Belambila in the Ogowe in 1875, for the house which I
afterward occupied, my workmen came on a pile of ashes, charcoal, and
charred bones, where, they assured me, a criminal had been put to death.
A barely mentionable method of disposal of the bodies of the dead is to eat
them. That is possible only in a cannibal country. That it was actual was
known among the Gabun Fang flfty years ago, and among my Ogowe Fang
twentyfive years ago. None ate of their own dead; adjacent towns exchanged
corpses. Women were not allowed to partake. The practice was confined to the
old men. One such was pointed out to me at Talaguga in 1882. He robbed
graves for that purpose.
Among the coast tribes of the Gabun region of West Africa cremation is not
known, nor are corpses thrown out on the ground. Under the influence of
foreign example, the dead are coffined, more or less elaborately, according
to the ability of the family; and the interment is made in graves of proper
depth. In some of these tribes a locality of low, dark, tangled forest, not
suitable as site for a village or for a plantation, is used as a public
cemetery.
Among the tribes of Batanga in the German Kamerun territory, though the
people are civilized, the old unsanitary custom of burying in the kitchen-
gardens immediately in the rear of the village, and sometimes actually in
the clay floor of the dwelling itself, is still kept up, even by the more
enlightened natives. The Christians are not in numbers sufficiently large in
any family to control all the burial ceremonies of its dead members. The
strange spectacle is therefore presented of a mixture of Christian ritual
and fetich custom. In my own experience at funerals of some children of
church-members at Batanga, the singing of hymns of faith and hope by the
Christian relatives alternated with the howling of half-naked heathen death-
dancers in an adjoining house. And when I had read the burial service to the
point of beginning the march of the procession to the grave, perhaps only a
few rods distant, the heathen remained behind; and while I was reading the
"dust to dust " at the grave-side, they would be building a quick fire of
chips and dried leaves on the exact spot where the coffin had last stood in
the village street. The ashes they would gather and incorporate into their
family fetiches, to insure fertility to the mother and other near female
relatives of the dead child.
Also, in the Gabun region, there is the remains of a custom, practised
especially by the Orungu tribe of Cape Lopez, of a pretended quarrel between
two parties of mourners on a question whether or not the burial shall
actually be made, even though there is no doubt that it will be, and the
coflin is ready to be carried. This contest concluded, a second quarrel is
raised on a question as to which of two sets of relatives, the maternal or
the paternal, shall have the right to carry it. Very recently this actually
occurred at the town of Libreville, and on the premises of the American
Presbyterian Mission, the fight being shamefully waged by young men who
formerly had been professing Christians. They had been given permission to
bury a young man in our Protestant cemetery. The missionary in charge of the
station heard a great hubbub on the path entering the mission grounds, as if
a fight was in progress. Going to investigate, he found an angry contest was
being carried on, under the old heathen idea that the spirit of the dead
must see and be pleased by a demonstration of a professed desire to keep him
with the living, and not to allow him to be put away from them. The contest
of words had almost come to blows, and the victors had set up a disgraceful
shout as they seized the coflin to bring it to the grave.
Another custom remains in Gabun, - a pleasant one; it may once have had
fetich significance, but it has lost it now, so that Christians may properly
retain it. Just before the close of the kwedi, friends (other than
relatives) of the mourners will bring some gift, even a small one, make a
few remarks appropriate to it and to the circumstances of the receiver, and
give it to his or her mourning friend. It is called the "ceremony of lifting
up," i.e., out of the literal ashes, and from the supposed depths of grief.
For instance, if the gift be a piece of soap, the speech of donation will
be, "Sit no longer in the dust with begrimed face! Rise, and use the soap
for your body!" Or if it be a piece of cloth, "Be no longer naked! Rise, and
clothe yourself with your usual dress!" Or if it be food, "Fast no longer in
your grief! Rise, and strengthen your body with food!"
As to the status of the departed in the spirit-world, though all those
African tribes from old heathen days knew of the name of God, of His
existence, and of some of His attributes, they did not know of the true way
of escape from the evils of this present life, of any system of reward and
punishment in the future life, nor of any of the conditions of that life.
That they had a belief in a future world is evidenced by survivors taking to
the graves of their dead, as has been described in the preceding pages,
boxes of goods, native materials, foreign cloth, food, and (formerly) even
wives and servants, for use in that other life to which they had gone.
Whatever may have been supposed about the locality or occupations of that
life, the dead were confidently believed to have carried with them all their
bu man passions and feelings, and especially their resentments. Fear of
those possible resentments dominated the living in all their attempts at
spiritual communication with the dead.
As to the locality of the latter, it was not believed that all of them
always remained in that unknown other world. They could wander invisibly and
intangibly. More than that, they could return bodily and resume this earthly
life in other forms; for belief in metempsychosis is a common one among all
these tribes. The dead, some of them, return to be born again, either into
their own family or into any other family, or even into a beast.
Who thus return, or why they return, is entirely uncertain. Certainly not
all are thus born again. Those who in this present life had been great or
good or prominent or rich remain in the spirit-world, and constitute the
special class of spirits called "awiri" (singular, "ombwiri").
But these awiri are at liberty to revisit the earth: if they choose, taking
a local habitation in some prominent natural object, or coming on call to
aid in ceremonies for curing the sick. Other spirits, as explained in a
previous chapter, are sinkinda, the souls of the common dead; and ilāga,
unknown spirits of other nations, or beings who have become "angels," all of
these living in "Njambi's Town."
As to Father Njambi Himself, the creator and overseer of all, both living
and dead, every kind of spirit-ombwiri, nkinda, olaga, and all sorts of
abambo-is under His control, but He does not often exercise it.
CHAPTER XV
FETICHISM - SOME OF ITS PRACTICAL EFFECTS
DEPOPULATION.
ONE of the effects of witchcraft beliefs in Africa is the depopulation of
that continent. Over enormous areas of the country the death rate has
exceeded the birth rate. Much of Africa is desert - the Sahara of the north,
' and the Kalahari of the south - with estimated populations of only one to
the square mile. Another large area is a wilderness covered by the great
sub-equatorial forest, -a belt about three hundred miles wide and one
thousand miles long, with an estimated population of only eighteen to the
square mile (among whom are the Pygmy tribes); and these not scattered
uniformly, but gathered chiefly on the banks of the water courses, the only
highways (except narrow footpaths) through that dismal forest.
The entire population of Africa, including all nationalities, -Copts of
Egypt, Moors and Berbers of the north, Arabs of the east, Abyssinians,
Pygmies, and Cannibals of the centre, Negroes, both Bantu and Negroid, of
the west, south, centre, and east, - probably do not number two hundred
million. Of these, the Negroes probably do not amount to one hundred
million. German authorities variously estimate the population of their
Kamerun country at from two to five million, and they have been vigorously
reducing it by their savage punitive expeditions in the interior. The French
authorities of the Kongo-Franēais estimate theirs at from five to ten
million.
The population of the great Kongo River was much overestimated after the
opening of that river by Stanley. Its people were massed on the river banks,
and gave an impression of density which subsequent interior travel has not
verified. To walk slowly in an hour over a mile of road that constitutes the
one street of a town; to count the huts, and allot such or such a number to
each, would give a sufficiently accurate census of one thousand or perhaps
two thousand to that town. But that place is the centre of travel or traffic
of that region. A half-day's journey on any radius from that town through
the surrounding forest would confront the traveller with scarcely any other
evidences of human habitation. Towns of the thousands are not the usual
sigbt; rather the villages of one hundred, and the hamlets of twenty,
excepting in the Sudan, in the Yoruba and other countries of the Niger, and
in tbe large capitals of Dahomey and other Guinea kingdoms. There walled
cities of from fifty to one hundred thousand inhabitants are known.
These congested districts help to lift the average that would be made low by
the paucity in the wilderness and desert portions. Probably the population
of the entire continent was much greater two hundred years ago. Depopulation
was hastened by the export slave-trade. Livingstone estimated that, on the
East Coast, for every slave actually exported, nineteen others died on the
way. The foreign slave-trade has long ceased, except from the Upper Nile
down through Egypt and Arabia, and from the Sudan across the Sahara to
Morocco. But far worse than Arab slave-trade are the diabolical atrocities,
committed during the last fifteen years and actually at the present time, in
the Kongo, under white officers of the miscalled "Free State," and with the
knowledge and allowance of the King of Belgium.
But, aside from all these and other civil and political causes, the fetich
religion of Africa has been a large part of its destruction. It has been a
Moloch, whose hunger for victims was never satisfied: as illustrated in the
annual sacrifice of hundreds and thousands by the priests of the kings of
Dahomey and Ashanti; and the burial victims at the funerals of great kings,
as in Uganda and all over the continent. If the destruction of such human
victims is not so great to-day as it was twenty years ago, due to
enlightenment by Christian missions and forceful prohibition by civilized
governments, the spirit of and disposition to destruction is not eradicated;
it is only suppressed. It is so deep seated and ingrained as a part of
religion, that it is among the very last of the shadows of heathenism to
disappear after individuals or tribes are apparently civilized and
enlightened. Under transforming influences the native has been lifted from
dishonesty to honesty, from untruth to truth, from immorality to virtue,
from heathenism to Christianity; and yet there still clings to him, though
he no longer worships the fetich, a belief in and fear of it. The presence
of foreign governments can and does prevent witchcraft murder for the dead;
but if these governments were withdrawn from English Sierra Leone, French
Kongo-Franēais, and other partitions of Africa, the witchcraft ordeal and
murder would be at once resumed. And no wonder. Inbred beliefs, deepened by
millenniums of years of practice, are not eliminated by even a century of
foreign teacbing. Costume of body and fashion of dress are easily and
voluntarily changed; not so the essence of one's being.
Under the assurance that a consecrated charm can be made for the
accomplishment of any purpose whatever, it results that almost every native
African heathen, in hours of fear or anger or revenge, has made, or has had
made, for himself amulets, or has performed rites intended to compass an
injury to, and perhaps the death of, some other person. Should that other
die, even as long a time as a year afterward, it will be believed that that
fetich amulet or act caused the death.
It follows, therefore (although even heathen natives do, in rare cases, say
of a death, "Yes, Anzam took this one," i.e., that he died a natural death),
that almost universally at any death which we would know as a natural one,
surviving relatives and friends make the charge of witchcraft, and seek the
witch or wizard, by investigation involving, in the trial, torture, or
ordeal by poison, fire, or other tests. For every natural death at least
one, and often ten or more, have been executed under witchcraft accusation.
I have pleaded for the lives of accused when I believed them innocent, and
whenever I was informed that an investigation was in progress, I said to the
crowd assembled in the street, "When you kill these three people to-day, do
I see three babies born to take their place in the number of the inhabitants
of your village?"
The Balengi on the Benita River, among whom I travelled in 1865-70, were
then a large tribe. It is now very small, exterminated largely by witchcraft
murders for the dead. The aged, defenceless, and slaves are generally
selected as victims. But no one is secure. Relatives of a chief who during
his life may have seemed envious of his power, are often suspected and put
to death.
For the determination of a doubtful cause of decease postmortems are made,
but not on any rational basis or with any knowledge of anatomy. In the
autopsy of an ordinary person the object is to find among the bowels or
other internal organs some sign which the doctor-priest may declare to be
the path of the supposed sorcery-injected destroying spirit. In case of a
magician, the object is to see whether his own "familiar" had "eaten" him.
Cavities in the lungs are considered proof positive that one's own power has
destroyed him. The fimbriated extremities of the fallopian tubes of a uterus
are also declared to be "witch." Their ciliary motions on dissection are
regarded as a sign that the woman was a witch. In proof, the native doctor
said to me, "See! those are the spirit-teeth. Don't you see how they move
and extend in desire to catch and eat?" It was in vain that I declared to
him that if that was true then every woman all over the world was a witch,
and that he was bound to go ahead and kill them all; for that God had made
no woman without those things. (Was this " doctor's " idea the same reason
for which the old anatomists called those fimbrię "morsus Diaboli"?)
In Garenganze, among the Barotse, [1] "the trial for
[1. Arnot, p. 76.]
witchcraft is short and decisive. If one man suspects another of having
bewitched him, - in fact, if he has a grudge against him, -he brings him
before the council, and the ordeal of the boiling pot is resorted to. My
proposal is that if they consider it a fair trial of 'whiteness' or
'blackness' of heart, as they call it, then let both the accuser and the
accused put their hands into the boiling water. The king is strongly in
favor of this proposal, and would try any means to stop this fearful system
of murder which is thinning out many of his best men; but the nation is so
strongly in favor of the practice that he can do nothing. An old friend of
mine, Wizini, who took quite a fatherly care and interest in me, for some
peculiar reason of his own, was charged with witchcraft. He pleaded
earnestly to be spared the terrible trial, and was reprieved because of his
years, but banished from his people and country for life, for no other
reason than that a neighbor had an ill feeling against him. Had be, been
first to the king with his complaint, be might have gotten his neighbor
burned or banished instead of himself.... Their punishments are very cruel.
Burning alive is, among the Barotse, a common occurrence; also tying the
victim hand and foot and laying him near a nest of large black ('driver')
ants, which in a few days pick his bones clean."
But it is well to repeat my own qualification of most statements about
"African" customs, which Arnot makes in connection with the above, that,
"when manners and customs are referred to, the particular district must be
borne in mind. Africa is an immense continent, and there is as much variety
in the customs of the different tribes as in their languages. Certain tribes
take delight in cruelty and bloodshed; others have a religious fear of
shedding human blood, and treat aged people with every kindness, to secure
their good-will after death. By other tribes the aged would be cast out as
mere food for wild animals."
The testimony of Declč [1] as to the tribes of South-Central
[1. Three Years in Savage Africa, p. 512.]
Africa is: "You would suppose that the African expected everybody to live
forever, since his one explanation of death is an immediate recourse to
witchcraft. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that every natural death
entails a violent one as its consequence. Along with witchcraft and the
inevitable accusation of sorcery when one dies, goes the custom of 'muavi,'
the ordeal by poison.... It is plain what complete domination this practice
has got over the native mind. The reason is that be thoroughly believes in
its efficiency. My own porters have constantly offered to submit to the
ordeal on the most trivial charges. Of course, this thorough belief in
'muavi' hands the native over completely defenceless to the witch doctor.
The doctor can get rid of anybody he likes to. Besides this, he is a kind of
public prosecutor; that is to say, that when he accuses any man or woman of
sorcery, he is not obliged, like any ordinary accuser, to take the poison
himself."
The "ordeal" or test of the innocence of a person accused of practising
witcbcraft or of having caused the death of any one (except in places where
Christianity has attained power), is almost the same now as that described
by Rev. Dr. J. L. Wilson, and subsequently by Du Chaillu, as existing fifty
years ago on the entire West Coast of Africa. On the Upper Guinea coasts it
is called the "red water." "It is a decoction made from the inner bark of a
large forest tree of the mimosa family." At Calabar a bean was used, an
extract of which since has been employed in our pharmacopia, in surgical
operations of the eye.
In the Gabun country the bark and leaves of a small tree called "akazya "
are used. Farther south, in the Nkāmi (miswritten, "Camma") country, it is
called "mbundu."
The decoction itself is supposed to have almost sentience, - an ability to
follow, in the various organs of the body, like a policeman, and detect and
destroy the witch-spirit supposed to be lurking about.
Accused persons sometimes even demand that they be given the ordeal. This an
innocent person could fearlessly do, feeling sure of his innocence, and
thinking, as any honest person in a civilized country charged with theft
would feel, that it was perfectly safe to have his house searched, sure that
no stolen article was secreted there. So here the ignorant native is willing
to take this poison, not looking on it as what we call "poison."
People who know that they have at times used witchcraft arts will naturally
be unwilling to undergo the test; but if the charge is made after a death,
an accused is compelled to drink. "If it nauseates and causes him to vomit
freely, he suffers no injury, and is at once pronounced innocent. If, on the
other hand, it causes vertigo, and be loses his self-control, it is regarded
as evidence of guilt; and then all sorts of indignities and cruelties are
practised on him.... On the other hand, if he escapes without injury his
character is thoroughly purified.... and he arraigns before the principal
men of the town his accusers, who in their turn must submit to the same
ordeal, or pay a large fine to the man whom they attempted to injure....
There is seldom any fairness in the administration of the ordeal. No
particular quantity of the 'red water' is Prescribed." The doctor, by
collusion and family favoritism, may make the decoction very weak; or,
influenced by public feeling inimical to the accused, he may compel him to
swallow a fatal amount; or he may save his life by a subsequent emetic.[1]
CANNIBALISM.
African cannibalism has been regarded as only a barbarism; but for many
years I have strongly suspected that it had some connection with the Negro's
religion. It may be a corollary of witchcraft.
Declč intimates the same: [2] "I do not mean such cannibalism as that of
certain Kongo tribes, or of the Solomon Islanders, who kill people to eat
them, as we eat game. With such tribes I did not come in contact. But there
is another form of cannibalism less generally. known to
[1. Wilson.
2. p. 513.]
Europeans, and perhaps even more grisly, which consists in digging up dead
bodies to feast on their flesh. This practice exists largely among the
natives in the region of Lake Nyasa.[1] I know of a case in which the
natives of a village in this region seized the opportunity of a white man's
presence to break into the hut of one of these reputed cannibals, and found
there a human leg banging from the rafters. This incident shows that
cannibalism is practised; but also that it is not universal with the tribes
among whom it is found, and is condemned by the public opinion of those who
do not practise it. But public opinion in Africa is not a highly developed
power.... The real public opinion is witchcraft. And, indeed, in the case of
cannibalism, the real public opinion tends to shield the perpetrators,
because they are reputed to be sorcerers of high quality."
Rev. Dr. H. C. Trumbull, in his "Blood Covenant" (1893), while gathering
testimony from all nations to illustrate his view of the universality of
blood as representing life, and the heart as the seat of life, as a part of
the religious rite of a covenant, comes incidentally on this same idea of
cannibalism as having a religious significance, or at least, as I have
expressed above, as a corollary of witchcraft. This will explain why the
African cannibal, in conquering his enemy, also eats him; why the heart is
especially desired in such feasts; and why the body of any one of
distinguished characteristics is prized for the cannibal feast. His strength
or skill or bravery or power is to be absorbed along with his flesh.
Trumbull [2] quotes from Réville, the representative comparative religionist
of France: "Here you will recognize the idea so widely spread in the two
Americas, and indeed almost everywhere amongst uncivilized people (nor is it
limited to the uncivilized), that the heart is the epitome,
[1. I know of its occurring on the Gabun and Ogowe rivers on the West Coast.
- R. H. N.
2. p. 107.]
so to speak, of the individual, - his soul in some sense, - so that to
appropriate his heart is to appropriate his whole being. "
A constant charge against sorcerers in West African tribes is that they have
made a person sick by stealing and eating the sick one's "heart," and that
the invalid cannot recover till the "heart " is returned.
Also, see Trumbull: [1] "The widespread popular superstition of the Vampire
and of the ghoul seems to be an outgrowth of this universal belief that
transfused blood is revivifying. The bloodless shades, leaving their graves
at night, seek renewed life by drawing out the blood of those who sleep,
taking the life of the living to supply temporary life to the dead.... An
added force is given to all these illustrations of the universal belief that
transferred blood has a vivifying power, by the conclusions of modern
medical science I concerning the possible benefits of blood-transfusion. The
primitive belief seems to have had a sound basis in scientific fact."
Histories of our American Indians are full of incidents showing bow the
heart of a captive who in dying had exhibited bravery in the endurance of
torture, was promptly cut in pieces and eaten, to absorb his courage.
"The Ashanti fetichmen of West Africa, apparently acting on a kindred
thought, make a mixture of the hearts of enemies mingled with blood and
consecrated herbs, for the vivifying of the conquerors."
"In South Africa, among the Amampondo, one of the Kaffir tribes, it is
customary for the chief, on his accession to authority, to be washed in the
blood of a near relative, generally a brother, who is put to death on the
occasion, and has his skull used as a receptacle for blood." [2]
SECRET SOCIETIES.
Another outcome of witchcraft belief is the formation of secret societies,
both male and female, of crushing power
[1. p. 115.
2 Trumbull, p. 129.]
and far-reaching influence, which, in one aspect of their influence, the
governmental, were the only authority, before the intrusion of foreign
powers, which could settle a fierce personal dispute or enforce intertribal
peace. But their possibilities for good were overbalanced by their
actualities of evil.
Among these societies I have, in a previous chapter, mentioned as
governmental agencies the Egbo of the Niger Delta, Ukuku of the Corisco
region, and Yasi of the Ogowo. There is also in the Gabun region of the
equator, among the Shekani, Mwetyi; among the Bakele, Bweti; among the
Mpongwe-speaking tribes, Inda and Njembe; and Ukuku and Malinda in the
Batanga regions.
A detailed account of the ceremonies of an initiation into Malinda is
contained in Chapter XVI.
In a previous chapter I have mentioned my own coming in contact with Ukuku
and Yasi.
All these societies had for their primary object the good one of government,
for this purpose holding the fetich in terror; but the means used were so
arbitrary, the influences employed so oppressive, and the representations so
false, that they almost all were evil. Most of them are now discontinued as
a tribal power by the presence of foreign governments, the foreign power
having actually come in conflict with some of them, as in the case of
England recently with the Aro of Nigeria; or, where they still exist, they
have degenerated to mere amusement, as Ukukwe, in Gabun; or are kept up as a
traditional fashion, as Njembe.
But they all exist, as described by Rev. Dr. Wilson a generation ago, and
are at this very present among the tribes of the interior, where foreign
government is as yet only nominal.
Mwetyi "is a great spirit, who is supposed to dwell in the bowels of the
earth, but comes to the surface of the ground at stated seasons, or when
summoned on any special business. A large flat house of peculiar form is
erected in the middle of the village for the temporary sojourn of this
spirit. The house is always kept perfectly dark, and no one is permitted to
enter it, except those who have been initiated into all the mysteries of the
order, which includes, however, almost the whole of the adult male
population of the village.... When Mwetyi is about to retire from a village,
the women, children, uninitiated lads, and any strangers who may be there at
the time, are required to leave the village."
"Indā is an association whose membership is confined to the adult male
population. It is headed by a spirit of that name, who dwells in the woods,
and appears only when summoned by some unusual event, -at the death of a
person connected with the order, at the birth of twins, or at the
inauguration of some one into office.... If a distinguished person dies,
Indā affects great rage, and comes the following night with a large posse of
men to seize the property of the villagers without discrimination. He is
sure to lay bands on as many sheep and goats as are necessary to make a
grand feast, and no man has any right to complain.... The institution of
Indā, like that of Mwetyi, is intended to keep the women, children, and
slaves in subjection."
"Njembe is a pretty fair counterpart of Inda, but there is no special spirit
nor any particular person representing it." Its power resides in the society
as a body, and rests on the threat of the employment of fetich medicines to
injure recalcitrant persons. Only women are admitted to it. A very
considerable fee is demanded for admission to membership. Formerly it was
considered an honor to be allowed to be initiated; now, to perpetuate
itself, it compels young women to enter it, especially if they have made
derogatory remarks about Njembe. The initiation then becomes a kind of
punishment. Strange to say, young women thus compelled to enter accept the
society, and become zealous to drag others in. The initiation occupies about
two weeks, and is accompanied with harsh treatment. Njembe has no special
meeting-house. They assemble in a cleared place in the centre of a jungle,
where their doings are unseen by outsiders by night or day. Nothing is known
of their rites, except that they dance in a nude state, and the songs of
their dances are openly heard, and are often of the vilest character.
"They pretend to detect thieves, to find out the secrets of their enemies,"
to direct women in pregnancy, and in other ways claim to be useful.
"The object of the institution originally, no doubt, was to protect the
females from harsh treatment on the part of their husbands."
As a rule, the Mpongwe women say that every woman should be in the Njembe
Society; so, at a certain age of a girl, they decide that she shall "go in."
But she is not always put through all the ceremonies at once. She may be
subjected to only a part of the initiation, the remainder to be performed at
another time.
The special occasion for an initiation may be perhaps because the spirit of
some recently dead member wants a new one to take her place; or if any young
woman has escapea being initiated during her youth or if she is charged with
having spoken derisively of Njembe, she may be seized by force and compelled
to go through the rite.
The entire process so beats down the will of the novices and terrorizes
them, that even those who have been forced into it against their will, when
they emerge at the close of the rite, most inviolably preserve its secrets,
and express themselves as pleased.
Just before the novices or "pupils " are to enter, they have to prepare a
great deal of food, - as much as they can possibly obtain of cassava, fish,
and plantains. Two days are spent, before the ceremonies begin, in cooking
this food. They make big bundles of ngāndā (gourd seed) pudding, others of
ground-nuts and odika (oily kernel of the wild mango), pots of odika and
fish boiled, boiled hard plantains, and ripe plantains beaten into rolls
called "fufu." This food is to be eaten by them and the older members of the
society the first night.
Those older ones, as a part of the hazing which they always practise,
deceive the new ones by advising them in advance: "Eat no supper this
evening. Save up your appetite. All this food you have prepared is your own,
and you will be satiated at the feast to-night." This is said in order to
play a hard joke on them. But sometimes a more tender-hearted relative will
pity them, and will privately warn them to eat something, knowing that they
will be up all night, and that the older members intend to seize and eat
what these "pupils" had prepared for themselves, allowing the latter to be
faint with hunger.
That evening the society goes into the adjacent jungle, the spot selected
including a small stream of water. There they clear a small space for their
ceremonies. They dance all night, part of the time in this camp, and part of
the time in the street of the town, but always going back to the camp at
some early morning hour.
On the second day they come to town, dance there a little while, and then go
back to the forest. They beat constantly and monotonously, without time, a
short straight stick on a somewhat crescent-shaped piece of board (orega)
that is slightly concave on one side. It makes a clear but not a musical
note; is heard quite far, and is the distinctive sign of the Njembe Society.
No other persons own or will strike the orega music.
In the part of the ceremonies that are public in the village street, a man
is invited to assist by beating oil a drum, a matter in which women here are
not expert. This drum does not exclude the orega, several of which may be
beaten at the same time; at least one must be kept sounding during the whole
two weeks by one or another of the candidates, or if these become exhausted,
by some other member of the society.
One of the first public preparations is the bending of a limber pole (ilala)
as an arch, or two branches, their tops woven together, over the path
entering the village. They are wreathed with lycopodium ferns, and at their
bases are stuck a young, short, recently half-unfolded palm-leaf, painted
with Njembe dots of white, red, and black. At the distance of a few hundred
feet may be another ilala; indeed, there may be several of them on the way
to the camp.
While dancing during the first few days, the society occupies itself with
preparations, unknown to the public, for their "work" in the camp. Thither
come older members from afar, especially those related to the candidates.
Certain women skilled in the Njembe dances and rules are called "teachers."
The first step which an already initiated member takes to become a "teacher"
is to find and introduce a new recruit, with whom she must again go through
all the rites of initiation more severely than at her first experience. She
makes herself perfect in the lessons impressed on her by impressing them on
the new pupil. The prospective "teacher" has thus to endure, in this second
passage tbrough the rites, all and more than is put on the novice. Little as
is known of these rites, it is certain they are severe.
In the singing, each song is known by its own descriptive motions. The
motion mentioned is to be actually performed, however difficult or immodest
it may be. Generally the immodest portions are reserved for the seclusion of
their camp; but the words sung at the camp can be heard at the village, so
that all hear them, - men, women, and little children.
One common public song has for its refrain, "Look at the sun"; while that
song is being danced, the candidate must gaze steadily at the hot sun, even
if it be blinding. Most of the "rules" (and the teacher may invent as many
new ones as she chooses) are purposely hard in order to make the candidate
suffer, and as part of the process of breaking her will, and ensuring
secrecy by a reign of terror.
Also most of the nights the candidate (or several of them if there are a
number) must spend hours in keeping a fire burning in some part of the
forest. That fire, once started, must be kept burning day and night during
the whole two weeks. A girl who in ordinary times would be afraid to go out
into the forest alone at night, will, under the Njembe initiation, go out in
storin and rain to see that the fire is not extinguished. Sometimes the
teacher will lighten the task for her by accompanying her; or some one,
pitying, will help to gather the dead wood with which the fire is kept
smouldering.
There are also rules for the breaking of which there are fines, e.g., "When
you are dancing in public during the initiation, do not laugh aloud."
Another rule is that no salutation is to be given or received, nor the
person or even the clothing of a visitor touched by a candidate.
The teacher must be quick to imitate, in this her second "degree" or passage
through the rites, the rapid motions of the skilled older one who is
teaching her and her new recruit.
In order to increase the severity, the pupil, though she may be already
wearied, is required to repeat her dance before every newcomer or spectator.
The teacher will start the beat of the orega and take a few steps of the
dance, and then stop and rest comfortably, the tired pupil taking the orega
and continuing the dance.
If pupils are sulky or shy, their teacher and other older members will scold
them: "Go on! dance! You may not stand or rest there' Go on! You! this girl
with your awkwardness! Do you own the Njembe?" Sometimes a pupil is sulky or
stubborn, or, disheartened, begins to cry. No mercy is shown her. Others, in
anxiously trying to follow motions, will make absurd mistakes, and bring
down on themselves the derision of the spectators. Some pupils really like
the dancing, and endeavor to learn quickly. Such as these are praised: "This
one knows, and she will some day be a teacher."
It is expected that the relatives of the pupils will be present and
encourage them with some little gifts.
It is remarkable how well the secrets of the society are kept. No one has
ever been induced to reveal them. Those who have left the society and have
become Christians do not tell. Foreigners have again and again tried to
bribe, but in vain. Traders and others have tried to induce their native
wives to reveal; but these women, obedient to any extent on all other
matters, maintain a stubborn silence. Nothing is known outside of the
society of their doings in their camp, except that they are all naked, lay
aside all modesty, make personal examinations of each other's bodies, sing
phallic songs, and indulge in the hardest, severest, and most violent
insults and curses heaped up in assumed wrath as jokes on each other. It is
really a school in which to learn the fine art of using insults and curses
which will be utilized outside the society, upon other persons on occasions
of real anger. No man can equal these women in their volubility and bitter
tirades when really angry. It is Billingsgate in its glory.
After keeping up the ceremonies for a number of days, the society chooses
one for their "last." The day preceding it, they go out in procession with
baskets, kettles, and basins, from village to village, still singing, the
song being adapted for their errand of begging, and still beating the orega,
to get offerings of food, or gifts of rum, tobacco, plates, and cloth. (In a
civilized religious worship this would be the taking up of the collection.)
At each village on their route any member of the society will direct one of
the new pupils to dance, as an exhibition of her recently acquired ability.
She does not hesitate, but asks, "Which dance?" The teacher replies, "I will
show you," and starting a few steps measured, she stops, and the designated
pupil takes it up.
During the initiation the pupils are required to go barefooted; and if they
have been wearing dresses, the dresses are taken off and only a native cloth
worn. But a slight concession has occasionally been made in favor of some
mission-sebool girls when forced into Njembe, who, accustomed to dresses,
were allowed to wear them when walking in this public collecting procession.
The night of the day on which they come back from this collecting of gifts
is the "last night." Dancing is then done by all, both by the teachers and
the pupils.
It is not known who is leader. One is spoken of as the "Mother," but it is
not known who she is. The chief teacher is seen whenever they come from
their camp, and is known by the colored chalk markings different from
others.
The next morning, the morning of the "last day," all go out fishing, young
and old, along the river or sea beach. This fishing is done among the muddy
roots of the mangrove trees. They gather shell-fish of different kinds. But
whatever they do or do not obtain, they do not return till each one has
caught a small common snake which lives in holes at the mangrove roots. The
sound of the orega (which is still constantly beaten) seems to act as a
charm, and the snake emerges from its hole and is readily caught; or the
hand is boldly thrust into the hole in search of the reptile. In starting
out on this fishing the new members do not know that they are to handle
snakes. They go as on a happy fishing excursion. Really, it is their final
test. They are told to put their hands into these holes, and not to let go
of the "fish " they shall seize there. The novice obeys, but presently
screams in alarm as she feels a snake-like form wriggling about her hand.
Her teacher terribly threatens her; she begs to be excused, dares not let
go, and is compelled to pull out the snake twining about her arm. They all
then return to the camp, each with her snake in her basket. It is not known
what is done with these snakes.
The teacher is to be paid for her services. As the pupils come from
different villages, each one has to ask her teacher's permission to go to
her relatives to collect the fee. This is done a few days before the final
day. They are allowed to go, but with an escort to watch them that they
break no rule of the initiation. They do not go into the houses, nor do they
speak. They stand in the street. Those who escort them have to do the
talking, thus: "We have come to collect our money, as the Njembe will soon
be done." If they get a plenty, the pupils are glad; otherwise they have to
stand in the hot sun uncovered, except by their crown-like wreath of
lycopodium, fern. It is a trying and humiliating position for any girl whose
people are poor or unwilling. She must stand there till some one of her
people shall contribute what the escort deems sufficient.
Having collected each her fee for the teacher, the pupils go back to her at
the village, and seat themselves on the ground under the eaves of the houses
on one side of the street, each with her pile of goods near her. The teacher
eyes these piles, and selects the girl who apparently has the most, to be
the first to begin to pay. Just previous to this, stalks of amomum are laid
down in the street, parallel to each other, about eighteen inches apart, in
number according with the teacher's random guess of the number of articles
in the chosen pile. Then she lays the articles of the pile, one by one, on
the amomum stalk. Then another of the teachers seizes the band of the girl
who owned these goods, and swinging her from side to side, runs with her
rapidly over that line of goods, herself stepping carefully on the
interspaces, but apparently trying to confuse the girl into stepping on and
breaking some one of the articles, e.g., a mirror or a plate. This ordeal
safely passed, the goods of that girl are accepted and put aside near the
teacher. The goods of each of the other new girls are treated in the same
way, and laid, one by one, on the amomum stalks.
The number of some girl's articles may not equal the standard set by the
first, and there may be not enough to cover every stalk. In that case the
teacher will allow some article, e.g., a head of tobacco-leaves, to be
opened and its separate leaves used to piece out the number. Nevertheless,
she will demand that something be added. It is an anxious time for the
pupils, watching to see whether their fee is accepted. Sometimes the
teacher, seeing that a girl's pile of goods is small, will not even attempt
to count or divide it, but, looking at it, sneeringly says, "I see nothing
here! Sit you there in the sun till some one brings you more!"
The last act of the "last day," before adjourning, is a public dance called
Njegā (Leopard). For that, the members of the society, and most spectators,
dress up in fine clothes. It is performed in the afternoon, and visitors go
to see it. The "Leopard" is done by the teachers, two at a time. All these
pairs must have their faces painted, each in a different style, no piece of
skin left untouched.
In beginning the Leopard dance, one of the pair imitates a leopard sneaking
around the corners of the houses; while the other one, waiting, has
collected perhaps a dozen of the members as her "children," whom she as
their "mother" is to guard from the "leopard." This teacher-mother begins a
song, "Children! there is the leopard in shape of a person," adding as a
refrain the word, "Mbwero! mbwero! mbwero!" which is repeated rapidly as a
warning that the leopard is coming, ending with, "my children!" They sing,
and step backward and forward to a drum accompaniment. While these
"children" are in great pretended excitement, the leopard is advancing
slowly, steadily, and nearer from the ogwerina (rear of the houses) into the
street, with extended tongue, and growling. When the mother sees this, her
dance step grows quicker, and she backs and motions to her children behind
her, they imitating all her steps. The leopard advances with a swaying step
in time with the music, and then suddenly dashes forward, and catches one of
the children, and sets her aside. This is kept up by the leopard till most
of the children are caught, only one or two being left. The mother then
seems very much exhausted, with a sad slow step; but the leopard at last
catches the others. Now that her children are all dead, the mother is
aroused to fury. The conflict remains between her and the leopard. And
"mother" must finally kill "leopard." The dance becomes very much more
rapid; the two approach nearer and nearer. Mother has a stick like a sword,
and finally she kills leopard with a light blow. This coup is received by a
shout from the spectators of "o-lo-lo!"
Then another pair are selected to go through the parts of mother and leopard
again. Sometimes one will refuse to act, or to be mated with the other one.
Then, like a singer in civilized lands, she is met with entreaties from the
crowd, "Do act! You know so well how to do it!" And then she yields. If at
the last there is remaining only one teacher who has not done the act, one
of those who has already performed will mate with her.
At night, the last work of the society is to put out their fire. If the
leader has come from a distant village, she wants to go, and she will
extinguish the fire that night; or, if she lives near, she may choose to
wait several days longer. But during that time the dancing and singing are
not kept up, for the society has adjourned.
Whatever else is unknown of the objects of Njembe, it is known that it is a
government. It was formerly much more powerful than it is now. At
Libreville, Gabun, thirty years ago, no woman dared to speak against it.
Mission schoolgirls, feeling themselves secure on the mission premises,
sometimes in their school-girl talk foolishly made disparaging remarks about
it. When this reached the ear of Njembe, those girls would some day be
caught when they were visiting their villages, and forced through the rites.
Parents did not dare interfere, and missionaries had no authority to do so.
In one case, however, a missionary did make a successful interference. The
girl did not belong to Mpongwe (the tribe of Gabun); she was a slave-waif
that had been picked up by the mission, and therefore, in a sense, the
mission's daughter. The senior missionary, Rev. William Walker, was a tall,
powerful, utterly fearless man, and his custom was always to carry a heavy
cane. That day, the Njembe lessons that were being given to the abducted
girl had only begun in the village street; she had not yet been taken to
their secret camp. Mr. Walker strode among the women and laid bold of the
unresisting girl. When some women attempted to drag her away, he brought
down his cane heavily at random over any head or shoulder within reach of
his long arm; and the girl was glad to be led back to the mission. The
rescue was successful. Mr. Walker's use of force was justifiable as against
Njembe's forcible abduction of the girl; and his parental position in the
case would have justified him if the women had made any complaint against
him before the local French magistrate on charge of assault.
In a somewhat similar case, more recently, Njembe sued a missionary, he
having assaulted them when they refused to remove their distressingly noisy
camp from a too great proximity to the mission grounds. The magistrate
dismissed the case, resenting Njembe's existence as a secret society, and
its assumption of exercise of governmental authority.
Recently also a native man was successful in thwarting Njembe. A certain
native Christian woman had escaped being forced into Njembe during her
youth; and by her being very much in mission employ during her adult years,
Njembe had ceased to threaten her. Her daughter, of about eighteen years of
age, though not a Christian, had also, by her mother's care of her, escaped,
though often threatened. A cousin of this daughter had been put through the
rite while her father was away on a journey. And now this cousin was trying
to induce the daughter to enter. The daughter refused, and perhaps may have
made some slighting remark. This remark her cousin reported to Njembe; and
some intimations were made that the young woman would be seized. The father
of the cousin had formerly been a eburch-member, is educated and
gentlemanly. Though he had fallen away from the church, he had no desire to
see his niece dragged down. He spoke severely to his daughter about the
excitement she was trying to raise, and threatened to call in the aid of the
French Chief of Police. The firm stand taken by him and also by the young
woman's mother was efficient in preventing her seizure by Njembe. Both these
parents are of unusual strength of character and advance in civilization.
Without their efficient backing, this young woman would have been forced
into Njembe.
Rev. J. L. Wilson, [1] wrote of Njembe almost fifty years ago: "There is no
spirit, so far as is known, connected with this association, but all its
proceedings are kept
[1. Western Africa, p. 397.]
profoundly secret. The Njembe make great pretensions, and as a body are
really feared by the men. They pretend to detect thieves, to find out the
secrets of their enemies; and in various ways they are useful to the
community in which they live, or, at least, are so regarded by the people.
The object of the institution originally, no doubt, was to protect the
females from harsh treatment on the part of their husbands; and as their
performances are always veiled in mystery, and they have acquired the
reputation of performing wonders, the men are, no doubt, very much
restrained by the fear and respect which they have for them as a body."
Most of the above description is, after so many years, true now, except that
the power of and respect for the society is lessened by the permeating
leaven of a Christian mission and by the dominance of a foreign government;
but even in that same region, in portions where these two forces are not in
immediate contact with the community, Njembe still is feared.
It is true, also, that there is no special spirit belonging to Njembe, but
when the society has occasion to investigate a theft or other crime, it
invokes the usual ilaga and other spirits.
It is also still true that in the tribes where Njembe exists women have much
more freedom from control by men than in tribes where it does not exist. But
even if it has been thus a defence to women against man's severity, it
undeniably has been an injury to them by its indecent ceremonies and phallic
songs. Such things may make men fear them, but also make it impossible for
men to respect them.
Those songs I myself have beard when the Njembe camp was in a jungle near to
a village. The male generative organ was personified, and, in the song
addressed to it, the name of a certain man, who was known by the singers to
be at that very time in the adjacent village, was tauntingly referred to.
Even immoral men were overwhelmed with shame at the shamelessness of the
women. And yet those same women, when their Njembe adjourned, resumed in
their individual capacities their usual apparent modesty which, as a
collective body, they had cast aside. Little has been printed of Njembe's
secret proceedings more than Dr. Wilson wrote fifty years ago.
Paul Du Chaillu makes a short statement that he was allowed to witness a
part; and he describes a but containing a few almost nude old women sitting
around some skulls and other fetiches. Doubtless he saw what be asserts.
But, unusual as were his opportunities, and large as was his personal
influence with his " Camma " (Nkāmi) native chiefs, it is positive that what
was shown him was only a little of Njembe, if indeed it was Njembe at all.
Other white men, with, indeed, perhaps less tact than he, but of greater
money power and larger trade opportunities, failed to see anything.
Some twenty-five years ago two Germans (now dead) trading in the Gabun
determined secretly to spy out Njembe.
The merchant, the bead of the trading-house, was a welleducated gentleman,
and his clerk was an active, intelligent young man. Both knew native customs
well, and both spoke the Mpongwe language fluently. Each had a native wife,
and being generous -and liberal-handed, had many native friends; but they
had been unable to bribe any Njembe women, even their own wives, to reveal
anything.
One dark night when the society was in session in a small jungle not far
from their trading-house, they went secretly and cautiously through the
bushes. They had not approached near enough to the circle of women around
the camp-fire to actually recognize any of them (it would have been
difficult to recognize their painted faces even by daylight); and they
really did not see anything of what was being done. Somehow their approach
was discovered, either by information treacherously carried from some one in
their retinue of household servants, or by being seen by one of the pickets
of the camp, or by the breaking of a branch as they crept through the trees,
or, possibly, by their white odor carried on the wind, - odor which to
Africans is almost as distinct as is Negro odor to the white race.
Njembe raised a frenzied cry, and started to seize them. The two men fled
desperately through the thick bushes. The clerk was recognized, and his name
was called out, and the other was assumed to be his employer. They escaped
to the safety of their house. Njembe did not dare assault it, French
policemen being within call; but next day word was sent by the society
denouncing them both, laying a curse on them, and plainly saying that they
should die. If the threat had been that the means of death would be magic,
these gentlemen would have laughed; but the women did not hesitate to say
that they would poison them in their food. This would be entirely possible,
even without collusion among the several men and boys that ranged from
steward to cook and waiters as their household servants; though, if need
were, some of these servants would sooner be treasonable to the white master
than dare to refuse Njembe. The case was serious. The older man, as a
dispenser of wealth to the entire community, was, even in Njembe's eye, too
valuable to be killed; his wife, herself a Njembe woman, interceded for him,
and the curse was removed from him on the payment of a large fine. But the
curse was doubled over the poor clerk. Njembe would listen to no appeal, nor
accept any bribe for him, as they had actually seen him at their camp.
It is a fact that shortly after this this clerk did fall into a decline,
with strange symptoms which no doctor understood nor any medicines seemed to
touch. He became weaker and weaker, and his life was despaired of. Njembe
openly boasted that it was killing him.
I do not know why an appeal was not made to the local French authorities.
Perhaps because the merchant did not wish to give more publicity to his
escapade; perhaps because it would be difficult to prosecute a society, no
individual Njembe woman appearing to be responsible.
To save his clerk, the merchant offered to pay a very large sum. Njembe
having had a partial revenge, having demonstrated its power, and standing
victorious before the community, was induced to accept. It was never known
publicly how much was paid. The curse was withdrawn, and the clerk
immediately began to recover; but it was some months before the evil was
entirely eradicated from his system.
Beyond Dr. Wilson's and Du Chaillu's short statements about Njembe, I have
seen nothing else in print, except the mere mention of the existence of the
society by several African travellers. What I have written in the above I
have obtained piecemeal at various times from different men and women,
Christian and heathen; but all of them spoke with hesitation, and under
promise that I should mention no names.
POISONING FOR REVENGE.
There are native poisons. It is known that sometimes they are secretly used
in revenge, or to put out of the way a relative whose wealth is desired to
be inherited. This much I have to admit, as to charges of "bewitching" and
so-called "judicial executions," therefore, that in the case of some deaths
they are actual murders, and that the perpetrator deserves to be executed.
But it is rare that the proof of guilt is clear. I have to be guarded in my
admission of an accused person's guilt, lest I give countenance to the
universal belief in death as the result of fetich agencies. I explain to my
native questioner: If what the accused has done in fetich rite with intent
to kill had any efficiency for taking away life, I allow that he shall be
put to death; if he made only fetiches, even if they were intended to kill,
be is not guilty of this death, for a mere fetich cannot kill. But if he
used poison, with or without fetich, then he is guilty.
But even so, the distinction between a fetich and a poison is vague in the
thought of many natives. What I call a "poison" is to them only another
material form of a fetich power, both poison and fetich being supposed to be
made efficient by the presence of an adjuvant spirit.
Not all the deaths of foreigners in Africa are due to malaria. Some of them
have been doubtless due to poison, administered by a revengeful employee.
Very many white residents in Africa treat their servants in oppressive and
cruel ways. Even those who are not cruel are often autocratic and arbitrary.
In a country that has little law to hinder, and no public opinion to shame
them, some white men treat the natives almost as slaves, cheating them of
their wages, cursing, kicking, striking, beating, and otherwise maltreating
and even mutilating them. Some are kind and just; but even they are at times
severe in enforcing their authority. So it could occur that even a kindly-
disposed foreigner might have his life attempted by an evil-disposed
employee whose anger be had aroused.
In general, the Bantu natives of Africa are patient, long-suffering, and not
easily aroused to violence, but taking their revenge, if finally their
endurance is exhausted, by robbing their master of his goods or otherwise
wasting his trade; abandoning him in sickness, so that he dies really of
neglect, or, when his boat upsets in the surf of the sea, making no effort
to rescue him.
The Bantu tribes are less revengeful and more amiable than the Negroes of
Upper Guinea, or the tribes of Senegal and of the Sudan, with their mixture
of Arab blood and Mahometan beliefs.
An English traveller recently, in the Igbo, country of Nigeria, in
discussing the native belief in occult forces, says: "It is impossible for a
white man to be present at their gatherings of 'medicine men,' and it is
hard to get a native to talk of such things; but it seems evident to me that
there is some reality in the phenomena one hears of, as they are believed
everywhere in some degree by white men as well as black. However that may
be, the native doctors have a wide knowledge of poisons; and if one is to
believe reports, deaths from poison, both among white and black men, are of
common occurrence on the Niger. One of the white man's often quoted proverbs
is, 'Never quarrel with your cook'; the meaning of which is that the cook
can put something in your food in retaliation if you maltreat him.
"There is everywhere a belief that it is possible to put medicine on a path
for your enemy which, when he steps over it, will cause him to fall sick and
die. Other people can walk uninjured over the spot, but the moment the man
for whom the medicine is laid reaches the place, he succumbs, often dying
within an hour or two. I have never seen such a case myself; but the Rev. A.
E. Richardson says be saw one when on the journey with Bishop Tugwell's
house-party. He could offer no explanation of how the thing is done, but
does not doubt that it is done. Some of the best educated of our native
Christians have told me that they firmly believe in this 'medicine-laying.'"
The most distinct instance of attempt at poisoning which I have met was
related to me in March, 1902, by Mr. H. L. Stacey, of the English trading-
house of J. Holt & Co. Ltd. I took the following statement from his own
lips, and he gave me liberty to use it publicly. He has since died, and his
death was sudden.
Mr. Stacey was a gentleman of courteous manner and of good education;
fearless, universally kind, and generally just in his treatment of the
natives. He was a Christian in his belief, and endeavored to be one in his
life. His truthfulness is beyond doubt, thus making his statement entirely
reliable.
He had his headquarters at Bata, with native sub-traders scattered north and
south and up the Benita River, sorne twenty-three miles south of Bata. There
came to him for employment a Lagos man, by name Croly or Crowley. He spoke
English well, could read and write, had quite a display of manner, and made
himself very useful by his apparent devotion, faithfulness, and honesty. All
this deceived Mr. Stacey, who thought he had obtained a valuable servant;
and rewarded him by giving him a sub-factory at Lobisa, a few miles up the
Benita River. To have a factory of one's own is the goal of the ambition of
every white trader's employees.
Mr. Stacey had also a Benga sub-trader on the river at Senje, some ten miles
above Lobisa. This Benga went to Bata and reported to Mr. Stacey that
Crowley was wasting his goods in riotous living and extravagant giving.
While the Benga was away, Crowley falsely told the native Fang, who had been
paid in advance by the former to collect india-rubber for him, that the
Benga had been dismissed, was in jail, and would never come back, and
induced them to sell to himself the rubber they had collected for the Benga.
When the Benga returned to his post, and asked his Fang to pay their debt,
they told him of the deception Crowley had practised on them. There was,
therefore, a triangular quarrel, the Benga suing the Fang for their debt to
him, the Fang denouncing Crowley for his cheat, and Crowley angry at the
Benga for informing Mr. S. on him.
Just at this stage of affairs Mr. S. came on one of his usual visits of
inspection to Senje. The Fang immediately sent secretly a deceptive message
down to Crowley, saying that- Mr. S. wished to see him. As soon as he came,
the Fang began to fight him. Notwithstanding Crowley's dishonesty to him,
Mr. S. magnanimously defended his life, locked him for safety in the Benga's
bedroom, and then made the quarrel a quadrilateral by protesting to the Fang
against their assaulting his premises. His contention with them was "talked"
in public "palaver," and finally was amicably settled. During the "talk" a
lad came to Mr. S. excitedly, saying that Crowley was spreading "medicine"
in the bed of the Benga, with intent to kill the latter. This aroused again
the indignation of the Fang. But Mr. S. laughed down their anxiety, telling
them that be was not afraid of "medicine " (he thought it was only fetich);
that fetich could not kill a white man; and that, to prove it, he would that
night sleep in that bed, and the Benga should sleep elsewhere. When all was
settled, be got Crowley quietly away, and sent him down river to his Lobisa
house, with expectation of dismissal. At night Mr. S. awoke with a great
pain in his abdomen, a great sense of constriction in his chest, skin hot,
and body tortured with shooting pains. Only his head was clear and free from
any distress. The symptoms were not those of malarial fever. The next day
his limbs were paralyzed. The natives said that Crowley had scattered in the
bedding and through the mosquito net a poisonous powder.
Mr. S. was taken helpless in his canoe down river, on the way passing very
near Lobisa, to a house on the sea-beach near the river's mouth. Believing
that Crowley had attempted the life of the Benga, Mr. S., while lying sick,
sent word to the adjacent Spanish Government Post for two soldiers to come
and arrest Crowley. (Mr. S. had been informed that C. was on his way to
him.) For C., when be saw Mr. S. lying sick in his passing canoe, surmised
what had happened, and was afraid the Fang would follow him to Lobisa and
assault him there. So he had closed his house and fled, following Mr. S. He
was coming with a double purpose: first, to plead with Mr. S. against
dismissal; second, as be promptly had heard of Mr. Stacey's sleeping in the
poisoned bed and being sick, he feared arrest and was ready also to make the
murder plan complete, if his plea for mercy was denied. To this end be came
prepared with a handful of the powder.
Before he had reached the house where Mr. S. was, the two soldiers had met
and arrested him, and were taking him to jail. He asked permission first to
be allowed to see his "master." So they brought him to the sick-room, where
be made many protestations of friendship and devotion, and plead for mercy.
Mr. S. rebuked the soldiers for hesitating in their duty, and for having
brought their prisoner there, and bade them take him away to the magistrate;
then he fell back on his pillow exhausted, and lay with closed eyes, only
semi-conscious. The soldiers went out of the room, leaving C. clinging to
the bed. He fell on his knees by Mr. S.'s head, as if still to beg for
pardon. Mr. S. felt C.'s hand insinuated under the bed cover near his
pillow, and suddenly opened his eyes, to find C.'s closed hand near his
face. He struck away the hand. A quantity of dark powder fell on the pillow
near his nose. Half suffocated, by an effort he shouted to the soldiers, who
came and took C. away. Mr. Stacey's little waiter-boy, who had also come in
at the shout, was horrified to see the poison-powder on the pillow. He
snatched away the pillow, threw the powder out of doors, and told the
soldiers. They, without waiting for official judgment at the Post, gave C.
twenty-five lashes at once. Farther blows, twenty-five at a time, were given
him while waiting in jail for Mr. S. to get well enough to appear against
him. Subsequently the Chef de Poste appointed a day for the hearing; but Mr.
S., in his devotion to the trade interests of his employers, asked that the
day be postponed, as his sub-traders needed just then much supervision. So
the Chef dismissed the matter, seeming to think that if Mr. S. regarded his
trade as of more importance than the defence of his life, it was no business
of the government to hold the prisoner; and took no farther interest in it.
Having been given, in instalments, an aggregate of two hundred lashes, C.
was discharged. He wandered about that region gathering a little food,
without friends, feared and hated, and not allowed by some even to enter
their villages.
The reputation of the Lagos powder as a powerful agent in destroying life
has been known for years among the equatorial coast tribes. Reports of it
are well known among white men on the steamers. It is believed in, not as a
superstition, nor as a fetich, but as a powerful poison. Clerks and other
workmen from Lagos are not welcomed in the Gabun region, as are clerks from
other parts of Upper Guinea, for fear of their carrying that poison with
them.
DISTRUST.
As a result of the universal employment of fetiches in African tribes, there
is no confidence between man and man. Every one is in distrust of his
neighbor; every man's hand against his fellow.
"The natives of Africa, though so thoroughly devoted to the use of fetiches,
acquire no feeling of security in consequence of using them. Perhaps their
only real influence is to make them more insecure than they would have been
without them. There is no place in the world where men feel more insecurity.
A man must be careful whose company be keeps, what path he walks, whose
house be enters, on what stool he seats himself, where he sleeps. He knows
not what moment he may place his foot or lay his hand upon some invisible
engine of mischief, or by what means the seeds of death may be implanted in
his constitution."[1]
Because of this lack of confidence, the natural affections and the duties of
the dearest relations are perverted. Wives afraid of husbands, and husbands
afraid of wives; children afraid of parents, and parents afraid of children;
the chief of the village uncertain of his people; and the entire community
that must live and eat and associate together, living and eating and
associating with a constant secretly entertained suspicion of each other.
JUGGLERY.
While in some of the rites performed by the native doctor-priest there is
real diabolism, i.e., communication with Satan, and certain wonders are
performed through the Prince of the Power of Darkness, I am disposed to
believe that in most cases the "doctor" is self-deceived, certainly in many
cases I believe him to be a deliberate deceiver. The native socalled
"prophet" is probably an artful mind-reader; and the fortune-teller, like
our own fortune-tellers, a skilful observer of the subject's tones, manner,
and unguarded admissions in conversation which give ground for shrewd
guessing.
Arnot[2] says: "These professional diviners are no doubt smart fellows,
arch-rogues though they be. The secret of their art lies in their constant
repetition of every possibility in connection with the disaster they are
called upon to explain until they finally hit upon that which is in the
minds of their clients. As the people sit around and repeat the words of the
diviner, it is easy for him to detect in their tone of voice or to read in
their faces the suspected source of the calamity.
"A man had a favorite dog which was attacked by a leopard,
[1. Wilson, Western Africa.
2 Garenganze, p. 107.]
but succeeded in escaping with one of its eyes torn out. To ascertain the
reason of this calamity, the owner sent to call one of these diviners. When
he arrived, to test him, he was told that a disaster had befallen my
acquaintance, and was asked to find out by divination what it was. The
diviner with his rattles and other paraphernalia, and dances, and other
movements to occupy attention, after the manner of jugglers, asked leading
questions of the spirit he was professing to consult, but really he was
watching the faces of his audience for their unconsciously given assent or
dissent. Thus, in succession, he found that the misfortune, whatever it was,
was not to a human being; then not to certain families; then to some object
possessed by a certain man; then that it was not about an ox nor about a
goat; then that it was about a dog; then, after, certain other
possibilities, was it connected with a leopard? So excited were the audience
that they forgot that they had been 'giving themselves away,' and when the
diviner asked the spirit, 'Was it a leopard?' they shouted with admiration
at his supposed skill. After a whole day of such proceedings the diviner
triumphed by announcing "that the spirit of the father of one of the man's
wives had been grieved at the man's long absence from his town and family,
and had employed the leopard to tear the dog's eye as a gentle reminder that
it was time he should go back to his own village."
In connection with the Yoruba custom of parents of twins having images
carved of their dead twins, "the carving of those images is a flourishing
and money-making trade. If the parents of the dead child are in comfortable
circumstances, the carvers tell them that they have seen in their dreams the
dead twin, and that he or she has asked them to send such and such clothes,
articles of food, money, etc.
"Sometimes they say the twins appeared to them in the forest when they went
to cut the Ire-wood to be carved, and bade them not to venture it. In such
cases special sacrifices must be offered before taking any steps. In this
way months pass before the carving is complete; during which time the
carvers demand of the parents whatever they feel they are capable of
supplying them with."[1]
In the Corisco region, some thirty years ago, I knew a native sorcerer who
achieved quite a reputation because he could perform the thimble-rig
juggler-trick of making a leaf appear and disappear between two plates.
One of my associates in the Ogowe, the late H. M. Bachelor, M.D., had
brought with him from the United States a few tricks of "parlor magic." He
quite astonished my schoolchildren by swallowing and subsequently vomiting
up a penknife, and by passing a threaded needle through the thigh of one of
the boys. Dr. B. did the tricks so artistically that even I did not detect
the deception about the penknife; and the boy solemnly asserted that be felt
the needle travelling through his leg. The exhibition was a happy one in
revealing to the natives how an evil-disposed sorcerer would be able to
deceive them.
A lady of the West African Mission of the American Board says: "I once
witnessed the performance of a witch-doctor on one of my visits among the
villages. The chief of the country was sick, and the doctor was giving him a
massage treatment. By sleight of hand he seemed to draw from the patient's
side chicken's claws, feathers, bones, sticks, pebbles, etc. Some "witch,"
it was supposed, had caused these things to grow in the man's body with
intent to kill. It was evident to the astonished crowd which had gathered
around, that their king would probably get well, now these things were
removed. The doctor's bill was promptly paid, -a thousand balls of rubber,
ten pieces of cloth, and a large pig. An ox was slaughtered, and a beer
drink indulged in to celebrate the occasion and to appease any offended
spirit."
TREATMENT OF LUNATICS.
The insane being supposed to be physically and mentally possessed by an
intruding spirit, their actions are necessarily
[1. Niger and Yoruba Notes.]
not considered to be the outcome of their own volitions. This view does not
always, in the native mind, relieve a lunatic of the burden of the
consequences of his acts.
There is great diversity, therefore, in the treatment of. the insane in
different districts and in different tribes. In some regions a tribe holds
to the following reasoning: This person is possessed by a spirit. That
spirit is. occupying his body and using his voice and limbs for some reason.
If we interfere with this person's doings, then we will be interfering with
the spirit and may bring evil on ourselves. Therefore it is considered
proper to make offerings and some degree of worship to the incarnated
spirit. But it is not true that the lunatic himself is an object of worship.
The gifts and sacrifices are made solely to and for the spirit; the prayer
of the petitioners being that it may refrain from inciting the possessed
person to do them evil, and in the hope that it may conclude to depart and
leave the patient and them alone.
In other places this same belief of possession leads to a very different
logical conclusion. The thought is: This person is possessed by an evil
spirit; if we allow him to remain, that evil spirit will do us only evil;
let us put this man, who is thus being utilized for evil, out of the way,
and perhaps in so doing we may get rid of the possessing spirit also. So the
lunatic is put to death. The manner of death sometimes chosen is a cruel
one, as if thereby the spirit itself might also be injured or incapacitated
to do further evil. Observe that this cruelty is not directed against the
demented human being, but against the indwelling spirit. The maniac in being
put to death is sometimes beaten with clubs, sometimes burned, sometimes
drowned, as if the evil possessing spirit might itself be fractured or
charred or sunk.
The forms of lunacy I have seen are mild, rarely maniacal. The lunatics I
have met in the Gabun region were both men and women. Among women I have
thought a cause was uterine complications; among both men and women,
excessive use of tobacco; in two cases of men the cause was hashish-smoking.
These last were characterized by a deep melancholy; all the others were
marked by absurd hallucinations. Undeniably, in two cases in Gabun, the
paroxysms were influenced by the stage of the moon.
The only medication of which the natives know is exorcism by fetich with
drum and dance, baths and purgatives. When a person is discovered to be
crazy, he is taken to the doctor, who gathers medicinal barks and leaves,
makes a very hot decoction, and puts it under a seat on which is placed the
patient. Both seat and patient are covered by a cloth, and he is subjected
to a severe sweating process. During this time the doctor calls out to the
supposed possessing spirit, "Who are you? who are you?" Perhaps the sick man
will say (his voice supposed to be under control of nkinda), "I am So-and-
so." The doctor replies, "Eh! you So-and-so! leave him, or I will catch you
and put you in prison." The prison is a section of sugar-cane stalk with its
leaves twined together; and the doctor is believed to be able to confine the
nkinda there. And it remains there indefinitely; but it may be released by
the will of the doctor, who will choose to free it some day unless he is
paid not to do so. Sometimes the crazy person has so many sinkinda that he
becomes a maniac, losing all sense of shame or even of hunger. In such a
case he is tied till he becomes quiet and the doctor announces that the
sinkinda have all gone out. The patient is then washed, and the doctor with
song and drum calls on good sinkinda to come and enter, and directs them to
take care of the man's body.
THE AMERICAN NEGRO VOODOO.
When the Negro was brought to America as a slave, he brought with him a
variety of African things, some good, some bad.
When hurried upon the slave-ships in the Kongo or at Lagos, the slave tied
into a little package, hung among his other fetich treasures, seeds of his
favorite foods. At least one of these seeds survived, in the West Indies and
thence to the United States, with a native name "gumbo." It is the okra
(Abelmoschus esculentus), that exists all over Africa, and has spread over
the United States.
Ground-nuts - "pea-nuts" (Arachis hypogea), which botanists claim to be a
native of South America -have been grown from time immemorial all over
Africa, and, in the Loango country bordering on the Kongo River, by the
Ashira and some other tribes are used as their staple article of food,
rather than the plantain (Musa sapientum), or "manioc," cassava (Jatropha
manihot). It is an important export from those regions and from the Gambia
to-day. If the nut itself was not carried from Africa to America, its native
name was; that name is "mbenda," and it was corrupted to "pindar" in parts
of the Southern States.
The evil thing that the slave brought with him was his religion. You do not
need to go to Africa to find the fetich. During the hundred years that
slavery in our America held the Negro crushed, degraded, and apart, his
master could deprive him of, his manhood, his wife, his child, the fruits of
his toil, of his life; but there was one thing of which he could not deprive
him,-his faith in fetich charms. Not only did this religion of the fetich
endure under slavery; it grew. None but Christian masters offered the Negro
any other religion; and, by law, even they were debarred from giving him any
education. So fetichism flourished. The master's children were infected by
the contagion of superstition; they imbibed some of it at their Negro
foster-mother's breast. It was a secret religion that lurked thinly covered
in slavery days, and that lurks to-day beneath the Negro's Christian
profession as a white art, and among non-professors as a black art; a memory
of the revenges of his African ancestors; a secret fraternity among slaves
of far-distant plantations, with words and signs, - the lifting of a finger,
the twitch of an eyelid, - that telegraphed from house to house with amazing
rapidity (as to-day in Africa) current news in old slave days and during the
late Civil War; suspected, but never understood by the white master; which,
as a superstition, has spread itself among our ignorant white masses as the
"Hoodoo." Vudu, or Odoism, is simply African fetichism transplanted to
American soil.
"It is almost impossible for persons who have been brought up under this
system ever to divest themselves fully of its influence. It has been
retained among the blacks of this country, and especially at the South,
though in a less open form, even to the present day, and probably will never
be fully abandoned until they have made much higher attainments in Christian
education and civilization. In some of the plantations of the South, as well
as in the West Indies, where there has been less Christian culture, egg-
shells are hung up in the corners of their chimneys to cause the chickens to
flourish; an extracted tooth is thrown over the house or worn around the
neck to prevent other teeth from aching; and real fetiches, though not known
by this name [perhaps "mascots"?], are used about their persons to shield
them from sickness or from the effects of witchcraft." [1]
While on a furlough in the United States in 1891, I visited a town in
Southern Virginia, and by invitation of the Negro pastor of the African
church addressed them on foreign missions. Somewhat at a loss what attitude
to take toward a Negro audience in speaking to them of Africa, I candidly
asked the pastor what I should say. He bade me speak exactly as if I was
addressing an educated white assembly. I did so. In describing native
African virtues and vices, I mentioned their fetichism, and remarked that it
was the same that obtained in the United States; and lest my hearers might
think I was personally attacking them, I added, "down South in Georgia and
Louisiana." The bench of elders sitting just in front of me broke out, "And
jist around hyar, too."
I had read Cable's " Creole Tales." One of his characters is sick with a
strange vague affection whose symptoms medicine had failed to reach. He is
superstitious, and one morning he wakes in horror at finding a dead frog
secreted under his
[1. Wilson.]
pillow. That fetich was no novelist's conjecture; it wa's true to life.
About 1894 or 1895, while I was alone in charge of Gabun Station, for three
successive mornings when I opened the front door, I found a dried frog
leaning against the threshold. I did not care enough about it to inquire its
significance or to ascertain who put it there. Since then I have found that
it is not used as a fetich by people of the Gabun region, but probably by
Upper Coast people. I remember that at that time I had three Bassa workmen
from Liberia whom I suspected of stealing and who then suddenly deserted my
service. I think they placed the frog,there, either to injure me or to
prevent my following up their theft.
FOLK-LORE.
An attractive survival of African life in America are "Uncle Remus's" mystic
tales of "Beer Rabbit." They are the folk-lore that the slave brought with
him from his African home, where in village hut and forest camp often have
been told to my own ears similar weird personifications before Harris had
actually written them. There being no rabbits in West Africa, "Br'er Rabbit"
is an American substitution for "Brother" Njā (Leopard), or Brother Iheli
(Gazelle), in Paia Njambi's (the Creator's) council of speaking animals.
CHAPTER XVI
TALES OF FETICH BASED ON FACT
THE view-point of the native African mind, in all unusual occurrences, is
that of witchcraft. Without looking for an explanation in what civilization
would call natural causes, his thought turns at once to the supernatural.
Indeed, the supernatural is so constant a factor in his life, that to him it
furnishes explanation of events as prompt and reasonable as our reference to
the recognized forces of nature. Mere coincidences are often to him
miracles.
In the large mass of materials which I gathered from all native sources of
information for the formulation of the philosophy of fetichism, as presented
in the former part of this work, I found many remarkable tales some of whose
incidents were probable, and which to me were explicable on natural grounds,
but which my native friends believed were the effect of witchcraft power. I
did not dispute them. To do so would either have closed their lips or made
them omit the witchcraft element from any subsequent stories they might
narrate to me. I thus secured these tales as a purely native product.
I did not use a note-book, fearing that its presence would hamper the
freedom of the story-teller, but listened carefully and wrote down the
interview immediately at its close. Not all knew that I was writing for
publication. That knowledge would have interfered with the simplicity of
their utterances. Of my several informants, some were ignorant, some
heathen, some Christian, only a few well educated. Of the most intelligent
of my informants, two allowed me to take notes as they were speaking, and I
really wrote from dictation; they considerately spoke slowly, so that I
should miss nothing, while I wrote rapidly and at the same time had to
translate their language into English. Of those two, one was able to give
part of the interview in English. The thoughts in these stories are entirely
native. So are most of the words. I tried to retain the narrators' own
structure of sentences, sacrificing a little of English for the sake of
native idioms. The prevalence of short words is due to my effort at exact
translation of their own words. Occasionally I have used longer words of
Latin origin because I had forgotten their word, and in an effort to repeat
their idea. The shortness of the sentences is due to the natives' graphic
and animated style of speaking. Long sentences are foreign to their mode of
speech.
The following two stories are illustrative of the native belief, mentioned
in Chapter IV, that we possess not only our physical body, but also an
essential or "astral" form, in shape and feature like the body. This form,
or "life," with its "heart," can be stolen by magic power while one is
asleep, and the individual sleeps on unconscious of his loss. If the life-
form is returned to him before he awakes, he will be unaware that anything
unusual has happened. If he awakes before that portion of him has been
returned, though he may live for a while, he will sicken and eventually die.
If the magicians who stole the "life" have eaten the "heart," he sickens at
once, and will soon die.
I. A WITCH SWEETHEART.
A certain man loved a woman whom he expected to marry. He visited her
regularly. Whenever he intended to visit her, he always notified her thus:
"I will be coming such a day " or "such an hour." Then she would say, "Yes."
But it happened on a particular day when he told her, "I'll be coming to-
night," she said, "No, not to-night, wait till next night." He replied, "No,
for I will come to-night." But she refused, "No, I do not want you to come
to-night." Then he asked,"What is your objection? Hitherto you have let me
come when I pleased. What is the matter to-night?" So she said, "I do not
want you to come, because I will be absent to-night." "Where are you going?"
he asked. To this she gave as answer only, "Don't come! I don't want you to
come!" So the man said, "All right! I will not come. If you don't want me,
then I'm not coming." So he left her, very much surprised at what she had
said, and began to think something was going wrong; he thought he would like
to know for himself what it was.
This woman was one of those who belonged to the Witch Society, and engaged
in its plays. But the man had not suspected this, and did not know that she
was one of those who played.
The native belief is that when a witch or wizard has seized some one to
"eat" his "life" or do him other harm, if there be a non- society witness
hidden or in the open, the odor of that witness weakens the witch power, and
the attempt at witchcraft fails.
This man, not suspecting the real state of the case, but in order to know
what was going on with the woman, came softly and hid near her house, where
he might be able to see whether any one went in or came out. Soon he heard
the door of her house open. He saw her come out of the house without any
clothing, and she quietly pulled the door to after her and closed it, and
then walked away from the place. All this the man saw, but he said nothing.
He stood outside waiting, waiting until she should return. After a long
while, as be was tired standing, he thought he would go into the house and
hide himself somewhere. It was not long after this that he heard a little
noise outside, and looking through the apertures of the bamboo wall saw her
and others with her, men and women. Some of them were carrying the form of a
man on their shoulders. Others spread out on the ground green plantain
leaves, and stretched the form on the leaves. Each of the party had a knife,
and they began their work of cutting the form into pieces. While thus
occupied, they saw that their knives would not penetrate. Some of them began
to step around, peeping into recesses as if they were looking for something.
Still trying to cut, their knives seemed dulled; no one of them could
succeed in cutting out a single piece. So they stopped, and began to sharpen
their knives, and again tried to cut, using more force in their efforts.
They worked rapidly, for they had to hasten, as there were signs of
approaching day.
As they still were unable to make any incisions after the sharpening of the
knives, they thought it very strange, and began to suspect that some one was
near witnessing what they were doing. So some of them began to search in
different directions; they sniffed to detect the odor of a person. This they
did over and over again, and came back, and again sharpened their knives,
and again they failed. And then they would again go around, sniffing for a
human being.
At last, as it was near morning, they had to give up their intention of
cutting into this form. So they had to take it up again on their shoulders
and carry it back to where they had brought it from, and lost their feast.
Then the woman came back to her house, very much disappointed and excited.
Though it was still dark, it was so near daybreak that she did not go to
bed, but took a light, and began to hunt all through her house, having at
last begun to suspect that perhaps her lover was there. Finally she found
him where he was hiding. She was very angry, saying, "Who told you to come
here? What brought you? And when did you come? Did I not tell you not to
come to-night?" But he turned on her, saying, "But where have you yourself
been? And what have you yourself been doing? I came here expecting to find
another man here. But that is not what I saw!"
She trembled, saying, "Have you been here a long time?" And he significantly
said, " Yes, I have!" Then, furious, she said, "Now you have seen all that
we were doing, and you have found me out! And as you have discovered that I
am engaged in witchcraft, and lest you tell others about it, you shall see
that I will put an end to your life! You shall not go out of this house
alive!" So she pulled out her knife. But the man was quite strong, and
though he had no weapon, made a hard fight. He was stronger than the woman,
was able to get away from her, and left the house just before daylight.
From that day their friendship was broken; neither cared again to see the
face of the other. The man informed on the woman. But she was not
prosecuted; for no one was able to make specific complaint that they had
lost their "heart-life." That form had been restored to its person
unrecognized and uninjured. No one out of the society, not even the victim
himself, knew of the attempt that had been made on him.
II. A JEALOUS WIFE.
A man of the Orungu tribe in the Ogowe region had several wives, of whom the
chief, commonly called the "queen" or head-wife, had no children. This was a
grief to her and a disappointment to the husband. But one of his younger
women, who had now become his favorite, had a baby, and the head-wife was
jealous of her.
The husband still retained the older one as the bearer of the keys and in
direction of the other women, though he was beginning to doubt her, as be
suspected her of witchcraft. But he said nothing about it, not being sure.
It is believed that witches can enter houses without opening doors or
breaking walls, and can do what they please without other people knowing of
it at the time. So one night this man and his young wife were sleeping in
the same bed with their little babe. Suddenly, after midnight, the mother
happened to wake up startled. She missed her baby from the bed. She looked
and looked all over the bed from head to foot, and did not find it. Then she
was frightened, woke up her husband gently, and told him in a whisper, The
child is missing! I don't see the child!"
The husband told her to get up and light a gum-torch (for there were coals
smouldering on the clay hearth used as a fireplace), that they might look
for the child. She did so, and both hunted, looking under the bedstead and
elsewhere, but did not find the child. Then they examined the windows and
door; for perhaps the child had been taken out by some one. The door and
windows were all properly fastened. The mother was very much troubled; but
her husband, keeping his own counsel, advised her not to scream or make a
noise, but said, "Let us go back to bed, but not to go to sleep; and let the
room be dark again." So the wife put out the torch, leaving the room in
darkness; and they returned to bed. Then the husband said, "Maybe we can
prove or see something before morning" (for be suspected); and he added,
"Whoever or whatever has taken the child out so secretly, will secretly
bring it back. So we must not sleep, but watch."
So both lay awake in bed for a few hours. Then, just before morning, while
it was still dark, they heard a little noise outside near the house, like
the rustling of wings and the panting of breath. They were both anxious, and
had their eyes wide open. Soon they saw the room flashed full of a bright
light from the roof. [Witchcraft people are noted for having a light which
they can thus flash.] Then the wife, as soon as she saw the light, quietly
nudged her husband; and be returned the pressure, to let her know that he
was aware, and also to intimate that she should continue silent as himself;
and they pretended to be sleeping soundly.
Soon they saw the figure of a woman descend from the low roof, but with no
hole in the roof. The figure came to the bedside and lifted up the edge of
the mosquito-net with one hand, in the other holding a child. As soon as she
attempted to put the baby back in its place, between the father and mother,
the father, as he was the stronger, and nearer to the figure on the outside
of the bed, got up quickly, and seized both hands of the woman before she
had time to let go of the child and escape from the room. He said aloud to
the mother, " Get up I Your baby has been missing. Now light the light, and
we will see the person face to face who has taken the child out!"
The young mother did so, and they discovered that it was the head-wife who
had brought in the child.
Then, when the father felt the body of the babe, it was limp and burning
with fever.
As it was so near daylight the father did not delay, but began at once to
make a fuss, and shouted for the people of the village to gather together.
And he began a "palaver" (investigation) immediately. When all the people
had assembled to hear the palaver, both the father and the mother related
what had passed during the night, about their missing the child, and its
return.
The head-wife, being accused, was silent, having nothing to say for herself;
for she was both ashamed and afraid to confess that she had been eating the
life of the baby. But all the people knew that such things were done, and
they believed that this woman had done with the, baby whatever she wanted to
do while she had it outside that night.
Then the father of the child tied up the head-woman, and said to her, "Now I
have you in my hands, I will not let you go until you give back the baby's
life, and make it well again." [The belief is that if the "heart-life" has
not been eaten the victim can recover.] This she was not able to do, for she
had eaten its "heart." So the next day the baby died. And the husband
executed that head-woman by cutting her throat.
The above incident was told me at Libreville by a very intelligent Mpongwe
as having actually occurred in the Gabun region. It is fully believed that
walls are no obstacle to the passage of the bodies of those possessing the
power of sorcery. The "light" spoken of I have seen. I do not know what it
was. From a small point it would flash with starlike rays. It was carried by
a man, who disappeared when pursued. A Christian native told me that he once
pursued it, and caught the bearer with a torch concealed in a hollow
cylinder; the flashing was caused by his thrusting it in and out of the
cylinder.
III. WITCHCRAFT MOTHERS.
(On an itineration in my boat on the Ogowe interior, in 1890, 1 came to a
village of the Akele tribe, whose inhabitants were in an intense state of
excitement. All the men were brandishing guns and spears or daggers; women
were gesticulating and screaming; the loins of all were girded for fight;
and a few only of the older men and some strangers were appealing for quiet.
Among the latter was a native trader of the Mpongwe coast tribe. His trade
interests made for peace. I knew him, as he had received some education in
our Gabun school.
I saw that in such confusion it would be useless to attempt to ask a hearing
for my gospel message. I did not wait to inquire the cause of the day's
commotion, and passed on to another village.
Subsequently the Mpongwe man told me the story. Though slightly educated and
enlightened, he was not a Christian and believed in fetiches. His account,
therefore, was from the heathen standpoint. I cannot repeat his own wording,
but the outline of the story is exactly his.)
In that village were two slave women, each married to a free husband. Each
was expecting to become a mother, - No. 1 in three months, and No. 2 in six
months. They were friends; and, unknown to their husbands, were members of
the Witchcraft Society, and were accustomed secretly to attend and take part
in the society's midnight meetings and plays. Just what is the nature of
those plays is not quite certain, but it is known that wild orgies of
dancing constitute a part of them.
These two women, that they might be freer for their dancing and other
movements, were accustomed, in going to the meetings, to divest themselves
temporarily of their unborn babes. This they were able to do by witchcraft
power, in virtue of which the possessor can pass, or cause any one else to
pass, uninjured through any material object, as a ray of light passes
through glass.
This they did on their way to the meeting-place on the edge of the forest.
They laid their babes on the grass in a secluded spot, and resumed them on
their return. As they did so, No. 1 observed that hers was a male, and No. 2
that hers was a female. They did this many nights in succession.
Subsequently No. 2 began to be envious of No. 1 in the possession by the
latter of a male child. The husband of No. 2 had been very anxious for a
son. She knew that if she could present him with a son be would be very
proud, and would enlarge her position and privileges in the family. So, one
night, she did not wait for her friend No. 1 to return with her, but,
excusing herself from the play, came back on the path alone. Coming to where
the two babes were lying, she deliberately exchanged her own girl for the
boy of No. 1.
The latter stayed very late at the play, - so late that, as she hasted home,
fearful lest the morning light should find her on the path (a dangerous
thing to a witch-player), on coming to where the babes had been deposited,
she snatched up the remaining one without examining it, and, supposing it to
be hers, resumed the natural possession of it.
Shortly after this, the nine months of No. 1 were fulfilled, and she bore a
child which, to her surprise, she saw was a female. She made no remark, as
she immediately suspected what had been done. She waited three months, until
the days of No. 2 also were fulfilled. At the birth of the child of No. 2
there was great rejoicing by the husband in the possession of a son. He made
a great feast, and called together a large gathering of people. Among them
was not invited the woman No. 1; for she and No. 2 were no longer friendly,
though neither of them had said anything.
In the midst of the rejoicings No. 1 made her appearance, though uninvited,
and striding among the guests, went silently into the bedroom, carrying a
three-months-old female babe. She went to the side of the bed of No. 2, laid
down the female child, saying, "There 's your baby!" snatched up the male
infant, saying, "This is mine!" and strode out of the room into the street
and on the way to her house.
A scream from No. 2 startled the crowd of guests; word was passed that the
boy was being stolen, and No. 1 was pursued and brought back; but she
desperately refused to give up the boy. The whole village was at once thrown
into confusion.
That was the state of affairs on the day that I arrived there. My informant
told me that he and others induced the crowd to quiet, by saying that the
matter could better be settled by a talk than by guns, by sitting down in
council than by standing up in fight.
On being brought before the council or palaver, No. 1 was calm and firm. She
still held to the boy-baby. She said she was willing to be judged, but
demanded that No. 2 should also be made to confront the council. The sense
of guilt of the latter made her weak and unable to face the friend she had
wronged.
Charged with stealing, No. I made a bold speech. She said, "Yes; I have
taken my own! If that be stealing, I have stolen!" And then she told the
whole truth of the witchcraft plays of herself and No. 2. The latter,
overcome with shame for her crime, did not deny; she admitted all. And No. 1
closed her defence by saying, "So this other woman has nothing about which
to make complaint. She has her child, and I have mine, and that settles the
matter."
The crowd was amazed, and the husbands were ashamed at finding that their
wives were witches. The husband of No. 2 was no longer disposed to fight
after his wife had admitted that the boy-baby was not her own. The matter
was dropped, as no one was really harmed. Neither husband was disposed to
fine the wife of the other for her witchcraft., as both were guilty.
The guests ate the feast, but the host had no satisfaction in its now
useless expenditure except that it was considered sufficient reparation to
the husband of No. I for his own wife's original theft.
IV. THE WIZARD HOUSE-BREAKER.
(The incidents narrated in the following three stories, The Wizard House-
Breaker, The Wizard Murderer, The Wizard and his Invisible Dog, my informant
asserted were actual occurrences; Nos. IV. and VI. occurring in the Gabun
region, and the parties known. The witchcraft part of the stories consists
in the strange light which wizards and witches are said to possess; it is
under their control to display or hide, and it gives them power to overcome
time and space. The scene of No. V. is on the Ogowe River.)
There were a husband and wife who had been married a number of years. She
had a child, a little boy. The husband had a brother; and this brother had
taken a strong fancy to the woman, and wanted to possess her. Secretly he
was asking her to live with him. But the woman always refused, saying, "No,
I do not want it!" Then this brother's love began to change to anger. He
cherished vexation in his heart toward the woman, and asked her, "Why do you
always refuse me? You are the wife, not of a stranger, but of my brother. He
and I are one, and you ought to accept me." But she persisted, "No, I don't
want it!"
The brother's anger deepened into revenge. He possessed nyemba (witchcraft
power), and determined to use it.
One day this woman had to go to her plantation; and she arranged for the
journey, taking her little boy with her. Before she left the village to go
to the plantation, she told the townspeople, "I will remain at the
plantation for some days, to take care of my gardens; for I am tired of
losses by the wild beasts spoiling my crops." But the other women said, "Ah!
your plantation is too far; it is not safe for you to be by yourself." But
she said, "I cannot help it; I have to go." She was brave, and persisted in
her plan, and made all preparations. On a set day, with her basket on her
back, her child on her left bip, and her machete in her right hand, the
started. She went on, on, steadily; reached the plantation, and rested there
the remainder of that day with her child. After her evening meal she shut
the door of the hut and went to bed. The door was fastened with strings and
a bar, for the plantation hamlets had no locks.
She awoke suddenly about midnight, and thought she heard a noise outside.
She listened quietly. Then she heard the sound again. Presently she
discovered by the noise that some one was trying to climb upon the top of
the but, for the roof was low. Soon, then, she observed that this person was
trying to break open the palm-thatch of the low roof. She still lay quietly.
But she remembered a big spear which the husband always kept in one of the
rooms of that hut; so she slowly got out of bed, and very softly went to the
corner of the room where the spear was standing, and returned to bed with
it.
The breaking of the thatch continued. Soon she saw the room filled with a
strange light, and then she saw a man trying to enter the roof head
foremost. She bravely kept still, and watched his head and shoulders enter.
She could not see his face, and did not know who he was. But she did not
wait for certainty; she thrust the spear upward at the man's head.
Immediately the figure disappeared, and she heard a heavy thud as he fell to
the ground into the street outside.
She now began to be frightened; she no longer felt safe, and dreaded what
might happen before morning. So she began to get ready to return to town
that very night. She girded her loin garment, fastened the cloth for
carrying her child, took her machete, hasted out of the hut, and started for
her village. In her fear she ran, and rested by walking. Thus, alternately
running and walking, she reached the village so exhausted and weak with loss
of sleep that when her husband's door was opened shff fell fainting on the
floor. He and others were alarmed, and asked, "What? What's the matter?" As
soon as she was able to speak, she told the whole story. They asked her,
"Did you see the person? Do you know him?" She said, "No; only one thing I
know: it was a man, and he fell into the street."
So, when daylight came, the husband and others went to the plantation to see
whether they could find the man. When they reached the plantation, they were
very much surprised to see that the man was this brother. He was lying dead,
with the spear in his neck.
The husband was not vexed at his wife for the death of his brother; he was
pleased that she had so well defended herself.
V. THE WIZARD MURDERER.
(My informant asserted that this really happened in the Ogowe.)
The parties are a husband and wife, their two little children, and a younger
brother of the husband. One of the children, a boy, was a lad old enough to
understand affairs.
The brother-in-law loved the woman, and secretly tried to draw her
affections to himself; but to all his solicitation she gave only persistent
refusal. Thus matters went on, he asking and she refusing; and then his love
turned to hatred. It happened one day that the husband and wife had a big
quarrel of their own. The wife was so angry that she said she would leave
him, take the children, and go to her father's house. But that home'was far
away, and could not be reached in one day. Other wornen tried to prevent her
going, as she would have to spend the night in the forest on the way; but
she insisted.
Leaving her clothing and other goods, she started off with the two children,
a little food, and her machete. Trying to make the journey in one day, she
walked very fast. But when the sun had set, and soon darkness would fall,
the lad said, "Mother, as we cannot reach there to-nigbt, don't you think we
'd better stop and arrange a sleeping-place before dark, and let the spot be
a little aside from the public path?
The mother said, "Yes; that is good!" Then she gave the babe to the lad to
hold, while she with her machete began to cut away bushes and clear the
ground for a convenient sleeping-spot. After she had cut away some bushes,
the lad watching her, saw that she was clearing a space larger than was
needed for herself. He asked her, "Do you intend that we all shall sleep in
that one place, -you and baby and I?" The mother said, "Yes." But he said,
"Why, no! Fix two places, -I by myself, and you and baby in another place."
The mother replied, "No, I cannot let you sleep alone in this forest; I want
you near me." However, the lad insisted: "But if anything happens to us in
the night, then we will be lost all together. I am not willing that we
should be all in the same place."
So the lad began to search for a place for himself, and came to a big tree
which was not very far from his mother's chosen spot. He called her to him,
and said, "I have found a good place. Just you clear for me behind this big
tree, and dig a trench for me to lie in, just below the level of the
ground." The mother did so.
After the two spots were cleared, they ate their little evening meal, and
night came. Then the lad said, "Now I go to lie in the trench, and you
sprinkle leaves over me to bide me, and then you go to your sleeping-place.
And if anything happens to me at night, I promise I will not cry out; I will
remain silent. And you promise that if anything happens to you, you also
will not cry out, nor call to me." The mother agreed, and both went to
sleep.
Not long after this, both were awakened by a strange flashing light, and the
mother saw some one coming to the place where she was lying. Then the light
was suddenly extinguished; and she saw a man near her, and recognized that
he was her brother-in-law. She was exceedingly alarmed, knowing that he did
not come with good intent. In her fright she hoped to gain time by
pretending to be friendly with him. So she exclaimed, "Oh! My young husband!
Now you have come after me, so that your brother's wife will not have to
sleep in the forest alone. Now we will make friendship and be good friends."
But he replied in anger: "Friends, you say? You shall see what kind of
friends I will make with you to-night! You, the woman who hates me! Where is
the lad?" She, determined to shield the child, said, "The lad did not come
with me; he preferred to stay in town with- his father." The man replied,
"You are not telling me the truth. Tell me where the lad is!" But she
persisted in her statement, "He is left in town with his father."
Then the man walked about in search of the lad, going even very near to
where be was lying awake in the trench. But the leaves hid him, and his
uncle did not discern that the ground had been disturbed. Returning to the
woman, he said, "Good! you are telling the truth. I don't see the lad. But
now I am ready to attend to you. You shall see." So he approached the woman
to seize her. She was so paralyzed with fear that she neither attempted to
run away, nor, though her machete was lying near, did she lay hold of it.
Even had she done so, she was too weak with her journey to defend herself.
The man snatched up the babe that still was sleeping, and looking around for
a rough, projecting root, violently flung the babe against it. It made no
cry; and both he and the mother supposed it was instantly killed. Then be
drew his machete, which he had made very sharp, and began to cut and slash
the woman. She pleaded and cried for help; but there was no help near. She
fell, covered with wounds, and died on the spot. All this the lad saw and
heard. After killing the mother, the man began again to search for the lad,
but did not find him; and, as it was now after midnight, he left the place
to go back to town.
Soon after he was gone, the lad, exhausted with terror and fatigue, fell
asleep. But be awoke again in the early daylight. Arising from his trench,
he went with grief and distress to see the two corpses. Looking at his
mother's blood covered form, he saw that she was dead. Looking at his baby
brother lying on the root, he took up the little form, sobbing, "Only I am
alive. Even this little child was not spared. Am I to go on my journey all
alone?" Examining the limp body still. further, it seemed still to show
signs of life; and he said to himself, "I think I will try to save it. I am
strong enough to carry it to my mother's people, to whom I shall tell this
whole story."
So he took up the cloth in which his mother had carried the child, adjusted
it for himself, placed the unconscious form in it, and started on his
journey. A short distance beyond brought him to a brook. Before be crossed
it, he stooped to take a drink of water. Tben examining the little body
again, he felt that it was not stiff and was still warm. Said he, "Ah!
perhaps it has a little life! I better give it a drink." So he tried; and
the baby drank, He rejoiced. "So perhaps it will be alive. I better bathe
it." And be did so. Then he crossed the brook, and journeyed on. Before he
reached his grandfather's village, he crossed another brook, and bathed the
babe, and gave it a drink as at the first brook.
On his arrival at the village the people were surprised to see him without
his mother. His grandfather at once wanted to know his story and why he had
come there alone. Said he, "Please, before I tell my story, try to save this
baby."
After the people had looked to the baby's needs and saw that it might live,
they gathered together to listen to what the lad had to say. When they had
heard his account, they started back with him to find his mother's corpse.
They took it up and carried it to her husband's village, there to hold
palaver over the death. As soon as they reached the village, instead of
announcing themselves as visitors to the husband, they went straight to the
brother-in-law's house. They found him sitting in the veranda. They laid the
corpse at his feet. This so startled him that a look of guilt showed on his
face. Looking at the party who had brought the corpse, he saw among them the
lad; and at once he felt sure that this lad had been a witness of his crime.
He lost his self-control, and began to scold, "What do you put this thing at
my feet for? Take it away!"
Then all the townspeople gathered around him, being horrified at the news of
the woman's death. The husband called them all to a council, and the palaver
was held at his house. There the grandfather and the lad told the whole
story.
The brother-in-law began to enter a denial; but the busband said, "No, you
are guilty! and because we are brothers, and we are one, the guilt is also
mine; and I will confess for you. You are guilty. Your actions show it. Why
did you become so angry as soon as you saw the corpse at your feet? "
But the wife's family said to the husband, "We have no quarrel with you. We
want only the person who killed our sister, and a fine of money for our
loss."
Then the husband said, "You are right; this man killed her. Take him, and
for a fine take his slaves and other property. He has deliberately deprived
me of a wife, and my children of a mother. Take all he owns." It was so
done; and the assemblage dispersed.
VI. THE WIZARD AND HIS INVISIBLE DOG.
(This, my informant asserted, actually happened at the town of Libreville,
Gabun.)
One night a young woman was alone in her house. She was married; but, that
particular night, the husband was absent.
After she had gone to her bed for the night, she slept, but not very
soundly. Half awake, she thought she heard something moving in the front
reception-room (ikenga). She had lowered the lamp in her bedroom, but it
still gave enough light for her to see. She slightly opened the mosquito-net
on one side and began to look and listen. But she saw no one nor anything
unusual in her room. But as the door between her bedroom and the reception-
room was slightly ajar, she looked toward its opening, and thought she saw a
figure moving in that room. She felt sure there was some one there. So she
stepped softly out of the bed, and peeped through the narrow opening of the
door. Sure enough, there was a man.
She was frightened, but controlled herself. She was puzzled to know how he
had got into that room, whose outer door she knew she had fastened before
she went to bed. She crept quietly back to her bed, and then began to shout,
"Who is that? How did you get in? I see you!" There was no answer. The
figure ceased moving, and stood still. The woman again cried out, "Who are
you? When did you come in? What do you want?" The man replied in a low
voice, "It is I!" She rejoined, "Who is 'I'? Are you only 'me'? Who are you?
How did you succeed in entering? Go out!" So he apparently opened the door
and went out. She was so frightened that she did not immediately. follow
him, nor did she make a public outcry.
Awhile afterward she recovered self-control, and arose and went into the
outer room, and assured herself that the outside door was fast, as she had
left it. She believed he had entered the closed door by witchcraft art.
The next morning she told her village people the story; but she was afraid
to mention the man's name (for she knew who he was), because many people
thought he possessed power as a wizard, and she feared he would revenge
himself on her. She told his name only to her mother.
Not long afterward he came again to her house when she was alone at night,
but did not enter. He came to the outside wall against which be knew her
bedstead stood. Lying there, she could see his form through the cracks in
the bamboo wall. She saw this as she happened to awake from sleep. She saw
his figure standing still, and she heard a sound as of the tinkling of a
bell moving about, such as natives tie to the necks of their dogs in
hunting. The wizard had brought with him this time a small invisible beast
to whose neck the invisible but audible bell was attached; and she beard a
sound along the bottom of the.wall, as if the animal was scratching a hole
for its master's entrance. This time she was so alarmed that she screamed
aloud to the people of the village; and then, through the chinks in the
wall, she saw passing by in the street the figure of the same man.
The very next day the woman began to be sick of a fever. For several days
she was quite ill, and people began to be alarmed for her. Her sickness grew
very much worse. Her people sent for a Senegal man, living in Libreville,
who had quite a reputation as a doctor in that kind of sickness. When this
doctor came, she was able to speak only in a low voice, and she recounted to
him what had happened. He asked her to mention the precise spot on which the
man had stood outside of the wall of her house. She described to her mother
the particular spot, and the mother took the doctor to show him. He scraped
up clay from the place and mixed it in a small bowl of cold water. He
directed that after she had been given a bath morning and evening this muddy
water should be rubbed over her body. She said that when it was thus rubbed
over her skin, her flesh temporarily felt as if it was paralyzed.
Her sickness continued more than a month, and then she recovered. Soon after
her recovery the man who had attempted to enter her room, and who was
suspected of having caused her sickness by witchcraft art, suddenly left
Gabun, and went to another country.
VII. SPIRIT-DANCING.
Antyande, a Mpongwe woman of the town of Libreville, Gabun, is a leader of a
company of ten or a dozen women in a certain native dance called "ivanga,"
which is performed only by women. Some dance it only as an exhibition of
their gymnastic skill; others mix with it fetich and witchcraft arts, and
claim that their movements are under spirit power. Antyande, more than the
other women of the company, uses witchcraft in her performances. She seems
almost to glide through the air, alighting on the knees of sitting
spectators without giving them the impression of weight, gyrating on small
stools without moving the stools from their position, and making many other
wonderful physical contortions in an exceedingly graceful and easy manner.
She even goes to graveyards at night, accompanied by three or four men and
women, to get what they call the spirits of the dead. It is said by some of
the men who have gone there with her that they do not understand what she
does, but that it is so very strange and awful that they are afraid. The
reason why she goes for these abambo (ghosts) of the graves is that she may
be spry and alert, and able to do with her body whatever she pleases. She
claims also to be accompanied by a leopard and a bush-cat that are visible
to her but not to others. As these animals are noted for their quick and
agile movements, and are under her witch-power control, they are able to
impart to her these qualities.
In January, 1902, she was dancing her ivanga, and there was a woman among
the spectators who had been drinking to the point of intoxication. In her
foolishness she determined to help Antyande by assuming to be directress to
keep the spectators in order. But, being drunk, she could not do so; she
only made disorder. In attempting to make matters straight she only made
them crooked. Antyande asked her to get out of her way. Many, also, of the
spectators begged the woman to cease interfering; but she would not, and
finally she vexed Antyande by spoiling her movements in getting too close in
front of her. Antyande's patience was exhausted, and she suddenly revealed a
secret that astonished many even of her intimate acquaintances, saying,
"Whoever is related to this drunken woman, please tell her to get out of my
way while I am dancing, because my dance is not a mere gymnastic exercise. I
have leopards and bushcats about me, and if she comes too near me, and the
tails of these animals should twist around her legs, then she will get a
sickness: and if that happens, her people must not hold me responsible for
it, for I have given you this warning." This surprised many of the people;
for they had supposed she was nothing more than an unusually graceful
dancer, and that her success was purely physical. Now, publicly, she
admitted that the power in her limbs and body causing her graceful
undulations was a supernatural one. So some of the women laid hold of the
drunken woman, and induced her to get out of the way.
While dancing, Antyande wears a wide belt called "ekope," which is made with
white and red stripes, and adorned with fringes of small bells in bands like
sleigh-bells. It is known that her ekope has been heard and seen moving as
if in the rhythm of a dance in her own room when she was not visibly there.
Those who beard the sound of its bells would think she was there practising
the dance; but when they went to look, they saw it moving, but did not see
her. A few months afterward, a report came at'night to the villages that
Antyande was very much excited and could not sleep; that she had gone to her
room for the ekope, and that it was not there. So she began to make a great
fuss, and begged her associates to keep watch and go with her to search for
the missing ekope. Some of these friends were willing; others were not, and
these went to their beds. She then went to other villages and told the
people there: "My ekope has gone out on a promenade. Have you seen it?"
These people were among the chief dancers of her band. But they told her
they did not know where the ekope was. So she began to ejaculate a prayer:
"Oh, please, you went out for a walk; come back to me, for if you do not
return, then I am lost. It will be death to me." Just before daylight, as
she was still wandering about with her friends, and singing ivanga songs to
attract her ekope, suddenly she and two of her friends beard the tinkling of
the bells among the bushes lining a certain road which passes by a Roman
Catholic chapel. They all went in the direction of the sound of the bells,
and entering a cluster of the bushes, they saw the ekope moving to and fro.
She was so -glad to see it, and she bade one of her companions to go and get
it. But the woman was afraid, and refused, saying, "Me! Oh, no! Go and get
it yourself!" So she went to it, singing her ivanga song, seized it, and
brought it to her house.
As she is noted for her grace and skill in that particular dance, another
woman, by name Ekāmina, asked her to give her power such as hers, as she
also wished to be leader of another band of ivanga dancers. Antyande
assented, saying, "Well, do you want spirits with it?" The other replied,
"Yes, I want two." So the two women, with a young man to escort them, went
at night to the graves and obtained the two desired spirits. It is these
which give them spirit power. When under their influence, their bodies are
thrilled with a new essence which makes them very light and causes them to
act and speak as if insane. The two women came back to Antyande's village,
and she performed all the magic ceremonies that Ekāmina wanted.
Some time after this, when Ekāmina had practised much and had danced
publicly several times, people began to say to her that she danced very
well, and soon she was invited to give exhibitions in various places.
One day it happened that the two women had arranged to dance on the same
night, each with her own party, at villages quite distant from each other.
Antyande asked Ekāmina to give up her play for that night and join with her,
"for," said she, "I want to make mine grand; and you wait for yours another
day." But Ekāmina was not willing. Antyande tried to get her to change her
mind, and was very much displeased because she refused. Ekāmina said, "I
will not give up, for my dance is by special invitation at Ańwondo village,
so I have to go." (Libreville is three miles long; one end is called
"Glass," and Ańwondo is at the other end.) Ekāmina lived at Glass, and on
her way to Ańwondo she had to pass the village of Antyande. The latter said
to herself, "As Ekāmina is not willing to do as I wish, and I was the one
who gave her this power, I will watch her as she passes, and see what I will
do." So, when Ekāmina passed at night with her party to Ańwondo, Antyande
watched her chance as Ekāmina neared her. She went behind her, and did some
magic act which would make the latter powerless to dance and not be aware of
-her loss of power. When Ekamina reached Ańwondo and commenced her play, she
was not able to dance at all. She tried till midnight, and failed. She
suspected that Antyande was the cause of the failure, for the latter had not
been friendly since their unsatisfactory talk. So she took a portion of her
party that same night back to Antyande's village, told the latter her
trouble, and begged her, "Please, if you have taken away the power, give it
back, so I may finish the dance tonight." Antyande said, "No; you would not
listen to me. I am a chief dancer, and you are praised as the same. Go and
dance!" Ekamina said, "But please give me back the power; I am not able to
dance without it." Antyande replied, "No, go to the graveyard and get other
spirits there for yourself." So there was no dance done by Ekamina that
night.
VIII. ASIKI, OR THE LITTLE BEINGS.
People believe that Asiki (singular " Isiki ") were once human beings, but
that wicked men, wizards and witches, or other persons who assert that they
have memba (witchcraft powers), caught them when they were children and
could not defend themselves, nor could their cries for help be heard when
playing among the bushes on the edge of the forest. These wicked persons out
off the ends of the children's tongues, so that they can never again speak
or inform on their captors. They carry them away, and bide them in a secret
place where they cannot be found. There they are subjected to a variety of
witchcraft treatment that alters their natures so that they are no longer
mortal. This treatment checks their entire physical, mental, and moral
growth. They cease to remember or care for their former homes or their human
relatives, and they accept all the witchcraft of their captors. Even the
hair of their head changes, growing in long, straight black tresses down
their backs. They wear a curious comb-shaped ornament on the back of their
head. It is not stiff or capable of being used as a comb, and is made of
some twisted fibre resembling hair. The Asiki value it almost as a part of
their life.
These Asiki will sometimes be seen walking in paths on dark nights, and
people meet them coining toward them. It is believed that in their meeting,
if a person is fearless by natural bravery, or by fetich power as a wizard
or witch, and dares to seize the Isiki and snatch away the "comb," the
possession of this ornament will bring him riches. But whoever succeeds in
obtaining that"comb"will not be allowed to remain in peaceful possession of
it. The poor Isiki will be seen at night wandering about the spot where its
treasure was lost, trying to obtain it again.
It happened in the year 1901 that there was a report, even in civilized
Gabun, about these Asiki,-that two of them were seen near a certain place on
the public road at that part of the town of Libreville known as the
"Plateau," where live most of the French traders and government officers. A
certain Frenchman, who is known as a freemason, in returning from his 8 p.m.
dinner at his boarding-house to his dwelling-place, observed that a small
figure was walking on one side of the road, keeping pace with him. He
accosted it, "Who are you?" There was no answer; only the figure kept on
walking, advancing and retreating before him.
Also, a few nights later, a Negro clerk of a white trader met this small
being on that very road, and near the spot where the Frenchman had met it,
and it began to chase the Negro. He ran, and came frightened to his
employer's office, and told him what had happened. His employer did not
believe him, laughed at his fears, and told him he was not telling the
truth. The very next night the Frenchman, the trader, and other white men
and Negro women were sitting in conversation. The trader told the story of
his clerk, whereupon the Frenchman said, "Your clerk did not lie; he told
the truth. I have myself met that small being two or three times, but I made
no effort to catch it." The women told him of the comb-ornament which Asiki
were believed to wear, and of the pride with which Asiki regarded it, and
the value it would be to any one who could obtain it. Then the Frenchman
replied, "As the little being is so small, the very next time I see it I
will try to catch it and bring it here, so that you can see it and know that
this story is actually true. "
On a subsequent night they two - the Frenchman and the trader - went out to
see whether they could meet the Isiki. They did not meet with it that night;
but a few evenings later the Frenchman went alone, and met the Isiki near
the place where it had first been seen. The Frenchman ran toward it and
tried to catch it; but it being very agile eluded his grasp. But, though he
failed to seize its body, he succeeded in catching hold of its "comb," and
snatched it away, and ran rapidly with it toward his house. It did not
consist of any hard material as a real comb, but was made of strands
resembling the Isiki's hair, and braided into a comb-like shape. The little
being was displeased, and ran after him in order to recover the ornament.
Having no tongue, it could not speak, but holding out one hand pleadingly
and with the other motioning to the back of its head, it made pathetic
sounds in its throat, thus inarticulately begging that its treasure should
be given back to it. On nearing the light of the Frenchman's house it
retreated, and he showed the ornament to other white men and some native
women. (So positive was my informant that the names of these men and women
were mentioned to me.) He said to the trader, "You doubted your clerk's
story. Have you ever seen anything like this in all your life?" They all
said they had not. It was reported that many other persons hearing of it
went there to see it.
From that night the little being was often seen by other Negroes. It was
always holding out its hand, and seemingly pleading for the return of its
"comb." This made the Negroes afraid to pass on that road at night. The
Frenchman also often met it; it did not chase him, but followed slowly,
pleading with its hands in dumb show, and occasionally making a grunting
sound in its throat. This it did so persistently and annoyingly that the
Frenchman was wearied with its begging, and determined that the next night
he would yield up the "comb." But he went prepared with scissors. He found
the little being following him. He stopped, and it approached. He held out
his hand with the ornament. As the Isiki jumped forward to snatch at it, the
Frenchman tried to lay hold of its body; but it was so very agile that,
though it had come so near as to be able to take the comb from the
Frenchman's hand, it so quickly twisted itself aside as to elude his grasp.
He however succeeded in getting his bands in its long hair, and snipped off
a lock with his scissors. The Isiki ran away with its recovered treasure,
and did not seem to resent the loss of a portion of its bair. This bair the
Frenchman is said to have shown to his companions at their next evening
conversation, and I was given to understand that he had sent it to France.
It was straight, not woolly, and long.
These Asiki are supposed not to die, and it is also believed that they can
propagate; but so complete has been the parent's change under witchcraft
power that the Isiki babe will be only an Isiki and cannot grow up to be a
human being.
It is asserted that Asiki are now made by a sort of creative power (just as
leopards and bush-cats are claimed to be made, and used invisibly) by witch
doctors.
1 am only writing these tales, I am not explaining them. Some of the
statements in the above story are too circumstantial to be denied. But there
is a wide margin for uncertainty as to what one might see after the
conviviality of an 8 p.m. West African dinner. In my sudden leaving of Gabun
in June, 1903, 1 had not time to interrogate the men and women named as
having seen the Isiki's tress of hair.
IX. OKOVE.
(The incidents of this story really occurred, and independent of the fetich
belief in okove power, are true. At the request of my native informant the
names of the two tribes are suppressed, for the sake of the living
descendants of the two kings.)
There was an old king of one of the principal tribes of West Equatorial
Africa who had great power and was held in great respect and fear; there was
none other his equal.
He had brothers and cousins. One of these cousins had a servant, a slave,
who had been bought from an interior tribe. It happened that this man had
not always been a slave, but in the tribe from which he had been sold he was
a freeman. The charge on which he had been sold by his own tribe was that of
sorcery and witchcraft murder, the death penalty for which had been commuted
to sale into slavery. He was deeply versed in a mystery of a certain fetich
or magic power called "Okove." He possessed it so powerfully that no one was
able to overcome him in contests of strength, and people were greatly afraid
of him.
So his owners intended to get rid of him by selling him out of the country.
To do this, they planned to catch him in the daytime; for he exercised his
okove power chiefly at night, when he could change himself into a powerful
being ready to overcome any one who should resist him.
One night when this great king, who also possessed the okove power (though
it was not generally known), went out to inspect, he saw a big tall man
walking up and down near his premises. The king said to him, "Ho! who are
you?" The man answered, "It is I." The king asked," Who is I?" The man
replied daringly, "I have already told you that I am I." So the king asked
again, "Who are you? Where did you come from? And what are you doing here?"
The man said, "I go everywhere, and do what I please at other people's
places, and -so I have come here." The king commanded him, "But, no, not at
this place. This is mine. Go back to your own!"
The slave gave answer, "No I that is not my habit. No one can master me!"
The king again ordered him, "Go!" He flatly refused, No! " The king then
said plainly, " Are you not willing to leave my premises?"
He replied," No, I never turn away from anyone. I go away when I please.
When I am ready, I will go back to my place." At this the king, restraining
himself, slowly said, "Be it so!" and turned away, leaving the slave
standing in his yard.
The next day the king sent word for his cousin the owner of the slave to
come; to whom, when he had arrived at the house, the king told how he had
seen the man at night. And he inquired, "What does he do? Why does he leave
his place on the plantation and come to my place at night?" The cousin was
surprised to hear this, exclaiming, "So! indeed! he comes here at night? "
Then he went back to his house, and calling the slave, asked him about this
matter. " Do you go around at night, even to the king's place? " The man
said, " Yes." His master said, "Why do you do that? Do you hear of other
lower-caste people daring to go to the king's at night?" He answered, "No;
but it is I who do as I please." His master told him, "No; you better return
to the plantation, and live among the other slaves." He replied "I will go,
but not now." His master asked him, "But what are you waiting for?" He only
repeated, "Yes; but not now."
The very next night, on the king's going out as usual, be found this slave
again at his place, and said to him, "So I you here again?" The man replied,
"Yes; just what I told you last night, that I do what I please, and I can
master anybody." Then the king said, "I warn you plainly, clear off from my
place!" He replied, "No, I do not intend to clear out; but I am ready for a
fight."
The king asked, "You really want a fight with me?" The man answered,"Yes, I
am ready for it." Said the king, "It is well."
The fight began, each with his full okove power. In such contests, the power
is able to change the contestants' bodies to many forms. The slave was quick
in his use of them. His first change was to the form of a big gorilla. This
also the king met. As the fight went on, the next form was into that of
leopards. The fight went on, with frequent changes; the slave always being
the first to change. After a while the slave seemed to be growing tired, and
the king asked him, "Are yon through?" He answered, "No, only resting."
Again the fight was resumed. Finally, the slave took an eagle's form; the
king did the same.
Presently the slave seemed to hesitate, and the king said, "You said you
wanted a fight. Well, let us go on with it." They continued; but the slave
seemed to be exhausted, and the king said, "Now, are you willing to leave
the place?" He answered, "No; my fatigue is not yet so great as to make me
leave your place." The king had held his power in reserve, and had been
tolerant of the man's audacity; but he now resumed his human form, took his
gun (the slave had none), and aiming it, off it went, and wounded him. Being
wounded, the slave had to acknowledge that he was overcome, and he had to
go. When morning came, the slave was not able to get up to go about his
work, and remained in bed. The gun-shot wound was a small one, and he was
conscious that he was dying of some other cause. He sent some one to the
master's house to ask him to come. When his master came, he said, "Ah!
master! I have something to say to you. Please plead for me!" The master
said, "Plead for you! For what?" The slave then told him, "I went around
last night to the king's place. He told me to leave, and I was not willing
to do so. So we had a great fight. And I am conquered. But please plead for
me, that he may make me well."
The master replied, "Did I not advise you not to go there, but rather to
stay at your plantation?" He assented. "But please plead, and I will stay at
the plantation."
The master answered, "I do not think the king will be willing to help you."
Nevertheless, being a cousin, he went privately to the king, and told him
all that the slave had told him. The king refused, saying, "No, I am not
going to do anything for him. He must die." The next day the slave was dead.
(Another illustration of that king's okove power was narrated to me.)
There had been ill-feeling between this king's tribe and an adjacent
inferior tribe who had killed two of the king's chief men without cause,
coming suddenly upon them at night in their fishing-camp. The king's people
were very much troubled about it, and asked to be led to war. But the old
king said, "You young people'don't know anything. If you go to war, there
will be much blood shed on both sides. Leave the matter with me. I will
attend to it myself."
So at night he went by himself to the town of the king of the offending
tribe, and remained there waiting in ambush on the path. Early next morning
four of the women belonging to that town had gone to their gardens with
their baskets to get food. The old king followed them secretly. After all
of. them had filled their baskets, two lifted them upon their backs and
started to return to their town. The other two were just stooping (as is the
custom in lifting burdens, leaning forward on one knee in order to place
their backs against the basket, with a strap passing around the basket and
over their foreheads), when the king came behind them and struck their necks
with his okove. They instantly died in that stooping position.
The two women who had gone on ahead reached their town without knowing what
had happened to the other two. They waited in town a long time for the two
absent ones to come. But when they did not make their appearance, the people
began to ask those women about the other two. They said they knew nothing
about the delay, only that they had left them ready to come and preparing to
lift their baskets. The townspeople, anxious because it was late in the day,
went out to search for the women. They found them on the path, dead by their
baskets. They examined their bodies for some mark or wound or sign of a
blow. There was none. This very much perplexed them, for they did not
suspect the cause of their death. They carried the dead bodies to town. The
next night the king went again to that same town, and he happened to meet
the other king at the boat-landing of the town. So the old king made
complaint to the other why the servants of the latter had killed his two
chiefs. The other made no reply, having no justification of what his people
had done.
Then the old king said, "As your people have done this, there is war between
us"; and he struck him with his okove. And he added, "Do you know that I
have already begun war with your people? Did you not find two of your women
dead yesterday at your gardens? I killed them. But I am not through with
you, I want you to pay a fine, and I want the man who killed my two chiefs,
for the lives of the two women are not equivalent to those of my two
chiefs."
The other king felt he was conquered by some unseen power, and did not
resist. He agreed to give up the murderer and pay a fine. The next day he
had the murderer caught and brought before a council. He told them that the
old king of the other tribe wanted the life of that man and a sum of money
for the lives of his two chiefs.
They began to collect on the spot goods and food of all kinds, and many
things of little value, with which to make simply the appearance of a full
canoe. They tied the prisoner, put him in the canoe, and went with him and
the goods to the old king. He received them.
But at night he went again to the other king, and began to rebuke him,
saying that what he had sent was not sufficient. The other made a protest:
"I have given you enough, - the lives of the two women, the one man, and
goods equivalent to two more lives. I have thus given you five for your
two."
But the old king, in tribal pride, reckoned the sex and social position of
his two men greater than any five of an inferior tribe, and said, "How dare
you speak to me like that? You shall surely die!" He struck him with his
okove, and went away.
The next day the other king was not able to leave his bed and sent for many
of his people to come, saying that be had a special word to speak to them.
They came, and he told them all about the death of the two women, and all
that had occurred between him and the old king. "And now," he said, "I am
dying. We are overcome. It is useless to resist. I want you to remember, as
long as the world stands, never to fight or quarrel with the tribe of that
king."
Then he turned his face to the wall and died.
X. THE FAMILY IDOLS.
(To a village on the St. Thom6 or left bank of Gabun Bay, or "River," away
up a winding mangrove stream, and on the edge of the forest that was broken
by pieces of prairie, I went, in February, 1903, to visit a friend, a sick
Christian woman, who was in the care of a relative of hers named Adova.
There were only five huts in the village. At the first one from the edge of
the prairie, which was assigned to me in which to sleep, on a bench outside
under the low eaves, was a roughly carved wooden idol, about fourteen inches
in height. From the dressing of the hair of its head, I supposed it to be
intended for a female. Its loins were covered with a narrow strip of cloth.
Near it was what could scarcely be recognized as a dog, its head looking
more like a pig's, and its tail more like an alligator's. The figures were
chalked and painted; and near them were a few gourd utensils for eating and
drinking, and some medicinal barks.
Subsequently, at night, in a curtained-off comer of my room, I saw three low
baskets, in each of which was a pair of wooden images not six inches high.
They were chalked, and adorned with strips of various-colored cloth. In each
basket also was a wooden bourglass-shaped article that seemed intended for a
double bell. Pieces of medicinal barks filled up the spaces in the baskets.
The images were relics of ceremonies held over twins born long ago in the
family.
At the other end of the village, in a very small roughly built hut, open on
one side, were two other idols, - one, a male, standing and chalked and
painted. The female in an ornamented box was not visible; near them was a
nondescript animal.
The story of these idols, as told me by my friend (who has since died), is
more especially connected with this pair.)
PART I. OKĀSI
It was made by a Loango man, a fetich doctor, very many years ago. The
Mpongwe family that to-day owns these relics had sent south to Loango, to
the Fiāt or Ba-Vili tribe, to bring to Gabun for this special purpose this
celebrated magician.
When he arrived, the chief of the family who had summoned him went with him
off to the forest, with all the medicines, and so forth, which the Loango
man had brought. This occurred on that same left side of the "river" where I
was visiting.
The magician began to explain everything in the way of directions about the
medicines that were to be put into the hollow of the abdomen of the idol
(and which to-day is still covered by a small round mirror fastened over
it). After explaining all these matters, he gave also all the orunda
(prohibitions), viz.: The idol must not be allowed to fall on its face; it
must have a small hut for shelter from rain and sun: it must be given a
light at night, at least of coals of fire. After this, he began to carve the
idol. After making the male of the pair, and before making its female, he
made a duplicate of the male, exactly like it, except that it was only an
imitation without any magic power; and, instead of medicines, only powdered
charcoal was put into the hollow in its abdomen, which, however, was to be
covered with glass, exactly as the real one.
When these two idols were finished, the two men, the magician and the chief
of the family, went with them far into the forest. The Loango said, "I will
put these here, and when we go back to your town I will give the power of
olāgā, [a certain kind of spirit] to one- of your women. If she receives it
properly, she herself, without knowing our path, will come to this forest,
and will make no mistake in choosing the real idol from the imitation; and
she will bring it to me in the town." (It is a rule with the native
sorcerers that if the one who aspires to the power should make a mistake in
this choosing, she must pay a fine of from $60 to $100.)
When all was arranged, the Loango man said, "Now let us go back to town." So
they turned back. But when they had gone half of the way, he said to
himself, "This Gabun man now knows everything, and where the idols are, and
which is the real one. It is his sister who wishes to receive the power; he
will go and tell her everything, and she will make no mistake, not by reason
of her possessing power, but by his private information." So the Loango
said, "Go you to the town, await me there; I will come soon." And he turned
back into the forest by himself, took up the two idols from where he had
laid them down, went in another direction and hid them there, and then
returned to town.
He then gave the power to the woman, and said, "Go and bring the olāgā." She
started, went with only a little power, and was going at random; but before
she had gone half-way, she came under the full power. Then she turned her
face right and left, and gave an olāgā yell, seeking to know which way the
power would lead her. At once then she knew which was the way; and she went
running and shouting frantically, under the influence of this power, to the
precise spot, and took up the real idol, making no mistake about the
imitation one. Holding it aloft, she returned, shouting and dancing, under
the Delphic frenzy. She entered the town singing and dancing in the street,
and then laid the idol at the feet of the Loango man. He took it, and knew
it was the right one. He then went to the forest and brought also the other,
the duplicate. When he returned, he went with it and the real one to the
ogwerina (backyard) to show to the Gabun man the slight difference in the
two (which he knew by a private mark). In doing this he had to take off the
little mirrors and show the difference between the medicines and the
charcoal. And he again closed the mirrors. Then, just to test the woman, the
magician said to her, "Go and bring me the idol I have left in the
ogwerina." She went there, still under the power, and with a frenzied scream
seized the right one and brought it to him. He was half glad and half
disappointed; for had she mistaken, he would have received more money.
Then the townspeople held a great dance, and the Loango taught them special
songs for the olāgā. The female of the pair of idols had also been made
about the same time as the male, but with no special ceremony.
All being finished, the magician named his fee for his services, was paid,
and went back to Loango.
This idol was intended as a family fetich, to protect the family at night,
and to kill any one who would attempt to injure any of the members. The name
of this male of the pair was Okāsi.
The name of the other one, that was under the eaves of the hut in which I
slept, was kākā-gi-bālā-dyambo-gi-bālā-ve. These are Shekyani words, and
mean "A-great-log-may-rot-but-a-spoken-word-dies-never." That meant that if
an enemy came and injured any one in the town, the wrong would never be
forgotten and would surely be avenged. That idol might almost stand for a
statue of Vengeance.
The above proverb comes from a tale of a cruel old Shekyani chief.
PART II. BARBARITY.
Once there was a very Powerful Shekyani chief named Ogwedembe. He had many
sons and daughters and slaves and slave children and nieces and nephews. He
had also a brother. His principal delight was in fighting and killing.
Ogwedembe used to go out on excursions, and would say to his company, "Now
we are out of town." That meant that all restraint was cast aside, and that
he was ready to kill the first person they might meet, even without a cause.
One day when they were out and were passing through a thick forest, they saw
a man up a tree who had come for palm-wine and had filled two of the gourd-
bottles used for that purpose. So Ogwedembe shouted to him,"Indeed! what are
you doing there? Have you not heard that Ogwedembe and his brother are out
of town? Come down quickly and meet us here!"
The man did not dare disobey, and came down. Ogwedembe took the gourds, and
said, "You may have one; I and my brother will drink the other." After the
drinking, Ogwedembe stripped the man of his clothing, leaving him standing
naked and trembling. In his terror the man did not attempt to escape.
Ogwedembe drew his knife, and repeated his questions, "Who told you to come
here? Did you not know that Ogwedembe and his brother were out in the
forest? Now I will fix you; and you can carry the news to your town that
Ogwedembe and his brother are in the forest."
He then seized a portion of the man's body, and with his butcher-knife
horribly mutilated him. The man started, bleeding, to go to his town, and
died on the way.
The section of country in which Ogwedembe's portion of the Shekyani tribe
lived was south of Gabun, toward the Orungu people at the mouth of the
Nazareth branch of the Ogowe River. Sometimes he and his brother would
travel in their war canoes all the way from their place, and, passing Gabun,
would go on northward to attack the Benga of Cape Esterias without cause and
in sheer ruthlessness.
Some of his daughters and sisters were married to Mpongwe chiefs at Gabun.
At times his daughters and nieces would go and visit him. They would be
received with firing of guns and other great demonstrations, and on leaving
would be laden with presents.
About twenty years ago one of his sisters, named Akanda, died in the prime
of life. She lived at Gabun, her husband a Mpongwe. (She was the mother of
Adova, my hostess, who is apparently about sixty years of age, and has a
younger brother apparently about thirty years of age.) So, when that sister
died, Ogwedembe came to Gabun, on the St. Thomč side, to the funeral. My
sick friend happened to be there at the time (for, by family marriage, she
is a cousin to Adova) and saw the old chief.
Ogwedembe, according to native custom, demanded of the husband a fine for
his sister's death (as if due to lack of proper care of her). When that was
paid, as a sign that no ill-will was retained, Ogwedembe was to give the
widower another wife.
During this discussion Ogwedembe kept saying, "I wish my sister had not been
married to a Mpongwe, for it is not your custom to shed blood for this
cause. But I feel a great desire to kill some one. If this had been a
Shekyani marriage, I would have gone from town to town killing as I chose."
The Mpongwe replied, "But we have no such custom." He answered, "Yes, I know
that. I only said what I would like to do, though your tribal custom will
not allow me to do it."
His demand of a fine being finally yielded to and paid, to show his peaceful
intentions, he gave the husband one of his daughters, a widow who had with
her two children, - a son and a daughter, - and who afterward bore him other
children.
Ogwedembe's bloody instincts' were suppressed at that funeral, and he
remained awhile after the close of the mourning ceremonies, making friendly
visits among his Mpongwe sons-in-law, and then went back to his Sbekyani
country.
A short time after that the eldest daughter of that woman Akanda (my hostess
Adova) and her husband Owondo visited Ogwedembe. He made a great welcome for
them, with dancing and rejoicing of various kinds. Every day be sent his
people to fish and hunt, to obtain food for Adova and the children she had
with her.
Before Adova left, Ogwedembe called his principal wife and his
grandchildren, and said, "When I die, you who are here in Shekyani, do not
remain here, but go to Gabun and live with Akanda's children all the rest of
your life." When he finally died, they obeyed and came to St. Thomč, of
Gabun, bringing their idols with them.
The one female image that was under the eaves of the house in which I slept
was for guarding their families; but the three sets of twins were to prevent
their mothers from becoming barren.
PART III. THE RIGHT OF SANCTUARY.
(It was an ancient and universal custom that a refugee, by clasping the
knees of the king of any other tribe, could claim his protection. The king
was bound to accept the claim. The obligation he thus assumed was sacred.)
While Adova was there at Shekyani country, visiting Ogwedembe, there came to
him an Orungu man with a little slave boy, carrying a box. As soon as they
entered the town, both of them came to Ogwedembe, and kneeling and clasping
his feet, claimed his protection, and promised voluntarily to be under his
authority.
The old chief, without asking the cause of their flight or their reason for
coming to him, assented, and summoned the town to make the Ukuku (Spirit-
Society of Law) ceremony of installing the man and his slave boy as members
of their Shekyani tribe.
Adova and her husband were very kind to this adopted "brother," and he at
once became exceedingly intimate with them.
At night this new man had been assigned to the house occupied by Ogwedembe,
in a room near him, so that he could watch him that be should not run away,
now that he belonged to Ukuku. But it was not known that this man possessed
all the power of nyemba (sorcery). Ogwedembe also had power for fighting,
and a certain amount of knowledge that warned him not to be deceived by
sorcerers.
After two days, on the third night, this man rose, and tried to go to
Ogwedembe's room, to put some witchcraft medicine on him. But Ogwedembe saw
him coming, rose, seized his staff, walked toward the man in the darkness,
and struck him violently on the head. The man fell. But neither of them
uttered any word, nor made any outcry.
Very early in the morning Ogwedembe got up, went out, and sat on the veranda
of his house. He called to Adova, "Come, I want to tell you something." She
came, and be said, "I had a bad dream last night. If any one comes to you
to-day to ask you to make medicine for a sore head, do not do it." "Who is
it?" she asked. He refused. "No, I will not tell you. But I know that before
to-day is over some one will come to you, but do not help him."
The Orungu got up late that day and looked and felt dull. When he left his
room, he sent his boy to call Adova. The boy went. She came to him. He said,
" Can't you find medicine for a headache? I did not sleep well. My head
pains too much." She said, "I do not know a medicine for that kind of
headache." The old chief was sitting near, and, looking significantly at the
Orungu, said to Adova, "Yes, that is right."
The next night the man said, "I do not wish to sleep here to-night. I will
go to an adjacent village, and will be back in the morning." "Well, go,"
assented Ogwedembe, "but be sure to be back in the morning. " And the man
said, "Ye. "
Scarcely had he left the town to go to the other village, when there came to
Ogwedembe three people from a certain Orungu town carrying a message from
their Orungu chief, thus: "The chief sent us, saying, 'Please give up this
man who came to you and who claimed your protection. Give up the man. You do
not know his habits; they are the habits of a worm that in eating spoils
only the best. He, with his sorcery, always aims at killing the greatest. If
you do not give him up, there will be war; for our chief has had this same
demand made on him from a third chief whose people this man has been
killing, and our chief will have to make war with you.'"
Ogwedembe laughed. "You say' war' to me? That is nothing to me. You cannot
do it. War cannot touch me."
When the message of the Orungu chief was being sent to Ogwedembe, some of
the attendants on the delegation had awaited half-way on the route, and only
the three had brought the message. Ogwedembe said to these three messengers,
"Go and call your chief, and we will talk about it."
The chief came. (All this while the man was away at the other village, not
having kept his promise to return.)
Ogwedembe said to the Orungu chief, "It is impossible. The law is sacred. I
will not give him up." But in his heart he felt, "I am protecting a sorcerer
who has tried to kill me; better I take the money for his extradition, and
send him away." He and the chief went on discussing. The point was made that
the sorcerer having himself broken his obligation, by attempting to injure
his adopted father, relieved that father of his Ukuku duty of protection.
Ogwedembe began to yield, and to name the number of slaves that should be
given him as the price of giving up the man. The Orungu chief demurred to
the price: "It is too much!" So Ogwedembe brought down the price to six
slaves, - three slaves, and three bundles of goods equal to the price of
three slaves. And it was so settled. Then the Orungu chief said, "I will go
in haste to my town to get you the goods; but as to the three slaves, this
man's boy must be counted as one of them."
There was a dispute over this, Ogwedembe claiming that the boy was not
guilty of any crime, and that his right to protection still existed. The
Orungu insisted that the boy, being a slave, must follow the fortunes of his
master, must be extradited as one with him, and then would of their own will
be released by them from the penalty of his master's guilt. Ogwedembe
consented. So the Orungu chief and his people went to get the goods, on the
promise that Ogwedembe would have the man caught and ready to be delivered
to them.
At once Ogwedembe sent word to the man to fulfil his promise of returning to
the town, and told his sons to be ready early next day to have the man
caught and tied, ready for delivery on arrival of the goods.
Next day Ogwedembe, seeing the man coming to him, came out of his house to
meet him, and speaking ewiria (bidden meaning), called out to his people,
"Sons, have you tied up the bundle of bush-deer meat?" "Oh yes, father,
we'll have it ready just now," as they came running to him. Then they
suddenly fell upon the man, dragged him inside the house, began to strip off
his clothing, and tied him. He at once knew that there was no mercy, and he
did not resist; but he said to his boy, "Call me Adova and her husband."
But she knew he was naked, so she told her husband to go and hear what the
man had to say. Owondo went, and the man said, "Owondo, I have no friends
here; only you and Adova have been kind to me, so I call you my friend.
Untie this small strip of cloth I have about my waist. I have four silver
dollars there. I am going to die. These dollars are of no use to me; you and
your wife take them. My box is in Adova's care; she must have the few things
in it." So Owondo untied the girdle, took the money, and went out.
Shortly afterward the Orungu people came, bringing the goods and slaves, and
took away the man. He was taken by the three messengers to the half-way
camp, where they had left their attendants. There were no houses there for
shelter, and only their mosquito-nets as tents. They stopped there with the
intention of passing the night, and next day of going on to their Orungu
town.
When it came evening they began to prepare their sleeping-places, and at
bedtime one by one they went to lie down. A large branch from an overhanging
tree fell very near the bed of one of the Orungu leaders, which was
adjoining that of the sorcerer. So they all said, "Ah! we see what is being
done by his arts. If this has begun so soon, who knows what will happen
before morning? Let us start at once."
So they all made ready that very night, and went out of the forest, down to
the beach, and got into their boat (as they had come part of the way by
sea).
Not long after they had started the sea became very rough. Soon the boat
capsized, broke to pieces, and all their goods were lost. They all escaped
ashore, but the sorcerer was missing. They waited on the beach until
daylight, and then found his loin cloth washed ashore. (His hands had been
tied.) They believed that he had caused the storm, and was willing to die
with them in the general destruction rather than survive to be put to death
by the torture to which sorcerers were usually subjected.
So these people sent back word to Ogwedembe and to the nearer villages to
let them know what had happened to them, and they returned to their Orungu
country by land.
The little slave boy, who had been left with Ogwedembe as one of the three
to be given as the price of extradition, was shortly afterward given by him
as a present to the sick friend I was visiting that day. She stated that he
was a most faithful servant and affectionate attendant on her infant
daughter. He stayed with her, and died in her service a few years later,
about 1883; and she mourned for him, for she had treated him, not as a
slave, but as a son.
XI. UNAGO AND EKELA-MBENGO.
(In the presence of theosophy, telepathy, thought-transference,
astrophysics, and wireless telegraphy, the following Benga legend has at
least a standing-place. It was written more than forty years ago by an
educated native in the Benga dialect. I translate it into English,
preserving some of the native idiom.)
Unago and Ekela were great friends. They lived, Unago at Mbini in Eyo
(Benito River); Ekela at Jeke in Muni (the river Muni, opposite Elobi
islands in Corisco Bay. The two rivers are at least forty miles apart; Ekela
is supposed to make the journey in two hours.)
They were accustomed, if one killed a wild animal, to send for the other.
One day Unago killed a hog. Then he sent for his friend Ekela. He at Mbini
said, "Oh, Chum Ekela I start you out very early in the morning hither. Come
to eat a feast of pig." And his children would say, "Father, your friend at
Jeke, and you right here, will he hear?" Said he, "Yes, he will hear." And
so Ekela, off there, would say to his children, "Do you hear how my friend
is calling to me?" His children answered, "We do not hear." Says he, "Yes,
my friend has called me to eat pig there to-morrow."
Before daybreak Ekela takes his staff and his fly-brush and starts. When the
sun is at the point of shining at Corisco, he reaches Mbini. Unago says to
his children, "Did I not say to you that he can hear?"
And so they eat the feast; the feast ended, they tell narratives. In the
afternoon Ekela says, "Chum, I 'm going back." Unago says, "Yes."
Having left him after escorting him part of the way, this one goes on, and
that one returns. When Ekela, going on and on, reaches clear to Jeke, then
day darkens. When his children see the lunch which he brings, then they
believe that he has been at Mbini.
A PROVERB: MANGA MA EKELA.
(Manga means "the sea"; secondarily, "the sea-beach"; thirdly, by euphemism,
"a latrine," or "going to a latrine." For the sea-beach is used by the
natives for that purpose, they going there immediately on rising in the
morning. They stay, of course, but a short time. If one should stay very
long, this proverb would be used of him, because Ekela, when he went, stayed
and made a journey of fifteen or twenty miles.)
Ekela was accustomed, if he started out early to the seaside in the morning,
to say, "I am going to manga"; then he went on and on, clear on to Hondo (a
place at least fifteen miles distant). Passing Hondo, his "manga," would end
only wherever he and his friend Unago met. There having told their stories,
they then each returned. This one went to his village, and that one to his
village. When Ekela was about to go back to his village, then be would leave
his fly-brush at the spot where he and his friend had been; and when he
would arrive at home, he would say to his children, "Go, take for me the
fly-brush which was forgotten of me, there at the sea, on the place where I
was. Follow my foot-tracks." When the children went, it was step by step to
Hondo, and the foot-tracks were still farther beyond.
The children, wearied, came back together unto their father, and said, "We
did not see the brush." When be went another morning, then he himself
brought it.
XI. MALANDA - AN INITIATION INTO A FAMILY GUARDIAN-SPIRIT COMPANY.
(Manjana was my cook at Batanga in 1902. He is a young married man with
several small children. He is of a mild, kindly disposition, obliging and
smiling, without much force of character, slightly educated, civilized in
manner and dress, but without even a pretence of Christianity; at heart a
heathen, though a member of the Roman Catholic church, into which he
consented to be baptized as the means of obtaining in marriage his wife, who
had been raised in that church.
His Romanism sat lightly on him, for be voluntarily attended my Protestant
evening-prayers, taking his turn with others in reading verses around in the
chapter of Scripture for the day; then be liked to take part in the general
conversation which followed about native beliefs and native customs.
Yākā, or family fetich, is no longer, at Batanga, a matter of dread, even to
the heathen; so Manjana was not afraid to tell me freely what happened when
he was initiated into it as a lad. I wrote down his story hastily, as soon
as he left that evening. I later wrote it out in full, while it was all
fresh in my memory. I could not exactly reproduce his graphic native words,
so I did not attempt them. The description is my own. But I followed exactly
the line of his story, and used only his thoughts. He said:
"I knew that a house was being built on the edge of the forest, a short
distance from our village. I and other lads and young men assisted the
strong adult men who were building it. But I did not then know for what
purpose or why it was being built. I remembered afterward that no girls or
women were either assisting or even lounging about it, watching the process
of building and chatting with the workmen, as when other houses were built.
I did not know that they had been told not to look there. I remembered
afterward that the house was located separately from the other houses of the
village, but that did not just then strike me as strange. Somewhat similar
houses had been built, as temporary sheds in making a boat or canoe. Such
houses are built rapidly, and not with the same care as is used in the
erection of dwellings. So it did not occur to me as noticeable that this
house was finished in the short time of two weeks. One gable of it was left
open.
Nor did I connect its erection with the fact that a prominent man of our
family had died just two weeks before. I know now that, in the manner of his
death, or in things that happened immediately afterward, the elders of the
family had seen inauspicious signs that made them fear that evil was being
plotted against us. As I now know, some six or eight of our leading adult
male members of the family had had a secret consultation, and had decided
that Malanda should be invoked.
I did not then know much about Malanda. I knew the name, that it was a
power, that it was dreaded; but how or why I had not been told.
I know now that while this house was being built one or two other men were
carving an image of a male figure; also, that when the house was completed,
that very night some of those elders had secretly disinterred the corpse
that had been already two weeks in its grave, and had brought it to that
house. There they had extracted two teeth, and had fastetened them in the
hollowed-out cavities representing the eyes and had hidden them there by
fastening over them, with a common resinous gum of the forest, two small
pieces of glass. And they had stood the image, painted hideously, on the
cover of a large box, made of the flexible inner bark of a tree, at the
closed end of the house.
Then they had cut off the head of the corpse and had scooped out its rotten
brains. These they had mixed with chalk and powdered red-wood and the ashes
of other plants, and had tied up the mixture carefully in a bundle of dry
plantain leaves. I already knew and had seen such things regarded as very
valuable "medicine," used to rub on the forehead or other parts of the body.
Then they had tied the headless corpse erect against a side wall of the
house, keeping its arms extended by cross pieces of wood.
The first that I knew that anything unusual was about to occur was early one
morning, just after the completion of the house, when the voices of the
elders were heard in the street, "Malanda has come!" The women and girls
were frightened. They knew they were not to look at Malanda. And we lads
were oppressed with a vague dread that subdued us from our usual boisterous
plays. We knew the name "Malanda." It was a power, it was mysterious.
Mystery is a burden; it might be for good or for evil.
Immediately all the adult men went into the forest. In about an hour they
returned, bearing on their shoulders a long, large log of a tree. They cast
it into the middle of the street, facing the sun. The hour was about 8 a.m.
They sternly ordered about twenty of the young men and lads to sit down on
the log. The mystery that had burdened me now fell heavier. Our mothers and
sisters were afraid to look on us, even with sympathy. These men were our
fathers and uncles and elder brothers, but their voices were harsh, their
faces set with severity, their eyes had no light of recognition as
relatives, and their hands handled us roughly. I was dazed and helpless in
my own village and among my own relatives, but not a word of pity nor a look
of even kindness from a single person! Each of the twenty also was too
occupied with his own destiny to speak to a fellow victim. As far as our
treatment was concerned we might have been slaves in another tribe. With no
will of our own we blindly did as we were bidden.
We were told to throw our heads back, bending our necks to the point of
pain, and to stare with unblinking eyes at the sun. As the sun mounted all
that morning, hot and glaring, toward the zenith, we were sedulously watched
to see that we kept our heads back, arms down, and eyes following the
burning sun in its ascent. My throat was parched with thirst. My brain began
to whirl, the pain in my eyes became intolerable, and I ceased to hear; all
around me became black, and I fell off the log.
As each one of us thus became exhausted or actually fainted, we were
blindfolded and taken to that house. On reaching it still blindfolded I knew
nothing that was there. I smelled only a horrible odor. The same rough hands
and hard voices had possession of me. Though blindfolded, I could feel that
the eyes that were looking on me were cruel. It was useless to resist, as
they began to beat me with rods. My outcries only brought severer blows. I
perceived that submission lightened their strokes. When finally I ceased
struggling or crying, the bandage was removed. The horror of that headless
corpse standing extending its rotting arms toward me, and the staring glass
eyes of the image overcame me, and I attempted to flee. That was futile. I
was seized and beaten more severely than before, until I had no will or
wish, but utter submission to the will of whatever power it might be,
natural or supernatural, into whose hands I had fallen. When all twenty of
us had been thus reduced to abject submission, we were treated less
severely. Some kindness began to be shown. Our physical wants were looked
after and regarded. Food and drink were supplied us. I observed an
occasional look of recognition.I began to feel that I was being admitted
into a companionship. There was something manly in the thought of being
entrusted with a secret to which younger lads were not admitted and from
which all of womankind were debarred. This gave me a sense of elevation.
There were some people whom I could look down upon! It began to be worth
while to have suffered so much. I began to be accustomed to the corpse of my
relative. True, I was a prisoner; but the days were relieved by a variety of
instructions and ceremonies practised over us by the doctor.
At first we were, in succession, solemnly asked whether we were possessed of
any witchcraft power ("o na jemba?" Have you a witch?) Elsewhere we all
would have indignantly denied having any such evil doings. But in the face
of that corpse, under the presence of the unknown power to which we were
being introduced, in the hands of a pitiless inquisition, and with the
obliteration of our own wills, we did not dare lie. Would not the power know
we were lying? We told what we imagined to be the truth; some admitted, some
denied.
The Yākā bundle was opened; sorne of its dust was added to the brain-mixture
(already mentioned). Of this compound an ointment was made. On the breasts
of those who denied were drawn commendatory longitudinal lines of that
ointment. On the breasts of those who admitted were drawn corrective
horizontal lines with the same mixture. Instructions appropriate to our
respective condition, as witch possessed or non-possessed, were given by the
doctor.
We were interested also in watching the digging of a pit in the floor of the
house. When this had reached a depth of over six feet, a tunnel was driven
laterally under one of the side walls, and opening), out, a rod or two
beyond, where a low hut was built to conceal it. Into this tunnel the doctor
and three or four of the strongest of the elders carried the corpse, and
left it there for about ten days, the doctor passing much of that time with
it.
After we had been in the house almost twenty days, although still confined,
I did not feel that I was a prisoner; I was deeply interested in seeing and
taking part in this great mystery. I no longer dreaded the dead. Even if
physical pain were yet to be inflicted on me, I would take it gladly as the
price of a knowledge which ministered to manly pride. I was being made a
sharer in the rights and possession of the family guardian-spirit.
A few days after this the corpse, now reduced almost to a skeleton, was
brought up from the tunnel, and bisected longitudinally. The halves were
laid a few feet apart, parallel and a short distance away from the two sides
of the house. We were gathered in two companies against the walls, and were
told to advance toward each other, carefully stepping over, and by no means
to tread on, our half of the remains. And the two companies met in the
centre.
We now felt we were free, though not formally told so. We had made a fearful
oath of secrecy. We preferred to remain and assist in the final order of the
house. The doctor and elders now disarticulated the skeleton (for such it
was, the man being dead now at least five weeks, and the decomposed flesh
having almost all fallen away). The bones were put into the bark box on
which stood the image. They were an addition to the contents of the Yākā, or
family fetich. Then, at the close of three weeks' confinement in the house,
we emerged in procession, the elders bearing the box and the image on the
top, and proceeded to the village street. There the box and image were set;
and a joyous dance was started with drum and song, with all the people of
the village, male and female. A sheep or goat was killed, and a feast
prepared. While the dance was going on, the elders around the box were
bowing and praying to the image on their knees. From time to time a man
would parade by, lifting his steps high and bowing low, and as suddenly
erecting himself and strongly aspirating, "Hah! hah!" And the village was
glad, for it felt sure no evil could now come to it. I was safe, and ready,
at the next time of danger, to assist in torturing the next younger set of
lads, for was I not a freeman of the family guardian-spirit?
The box and image were stowed away in a back room of the village headman's
dwelling, who would often take a plate full of food to it, as a sacrifice,
and sometimes an offering of cloth or other goods; and the village felt
safe.
Nevertheless, the house was not torn down; it stood empty and unused. But
if, even a year later, evil still fell on the village, the elders knew that
something about the Malanda had not been rightly performed. And it must all
be done over again with the next dead adult male (never a female) and with a
new lot of neophytes.
A woman may be subjected to a part of the above ceremonies if she is
suspected of witchcraft, or if, on examination, she confess to using black
art. To purge her of this evil, and to counteract the consequences of what
she may have done, she is taken to the little hut over the end of the
tunnel, and some of the above described ceremonies are performed over her;
but she is never taken into the house, nor into the presence of the corpse.
XIII. THREE-THINGS CAME BACK TOO LATE.
(The following narrative was told me by a Batanga native Christian woman
who, herself less than thirty years of age, is a great-granddaughter of the
man one of whose wives was the witch of this story. I bade her, in giving me
the account, to speak, not from her present Christian standpoint and her
only slight superstitious bias, but from the full heathen view-point. The
confusing mixture of singular and plural pronouns referring to the witch is
an exact reproduction of my informant's words.)
The great-grandfather was a heathen and a polygamist. He had four wives. One
of them was a member of an interior tribe, the Boheba, more heathenish and
superstitious than his own Batanga coast tribe. Unknown to him, she was a
member of the Witchcraft Society, had power with the spirits, and they with
her, attended their secret night meetings, and engaged in their unhallowed
orgies.
The husband, though not a member of the society, had acquired some knowledge
of witchcraft art, and, though without the power to transform himself, as
wizards did, was able to see and know what was being done at distances
beyond ordinary human sight.
One night she arose from her bed to go and attend a witchcraft play. She
left her physical "house," the fleshly body, lying on the bed, so that no
one not in the secret, seeing that body lying there, would think other than
it was herself, nor would know that she was gone out. In her going out she
willed to emerge as Three-Things, and this triple unit went off to the
witchcraft play. The husband happened to see this, and watched her as she
disappeared, saw where she went, and, though distant and out of sight, knew
what she was doing. So he said to himself, "She is off at her play; I also
will do some playing here; she shall know what I have done."
Among the several things of which followers of witchcraft are afraid, and
which weaken their power, is cayenne pepper. So this man gathered a large
quantity of pepper-pods from the bushes growing in the behu (kitchen-
garden), and bruised them in a mortar to a fine soft pulp. This he smeared
thoroughly all over the woman's unconscious body as it lay in her bedroom.
He left not the smallest portion of her skin untouched by the pepper, - from
her scalp, and in the interstices of her fingers and toes, minutely over her
entire body.
Meanwhile, with the woman at her play, the night was passing. The witches'
sacred bird, the owl, began its early morning warning boot. She prepared to
return. As she was returning, the flrst morning cock-crow also warned her to
hasten, lest daybreak should find her triple unit outside of its fleshly
"house." So the three came rushing with the speed of wind back to her
village. Her husband was on the watch; he heard this panting sound as of a
person breathing rapidly, and felt the impulse of their wind as she reached
her hut and came in to re-enter their house.
He saw her approach every possible part of the body, seeking to find even a
minute spot that was not barred by the pepper. She searched long and
anxiously, but in vain; and in despair they went and hid herself in a wood-
pile at the back of one of the village huts, waiting in terror for some
possible escape.
All this the husband saw silently. When morning light finally came, be knew
that this wife was dead, for her life-spirit had not succeeded in returning
to its body within the specified time. It was therefore a dead body. But he
said nothing about it to any one, and went off fishing.
As the morning hours were passing while be was away and the woman's door of
her hut was still closed, his children began to wonder and to say, "What is
this? What is the matter? Since morning light our father's wife has not come
out into the street." After waiting awhile longer, their anxiety and
curiosity overcame them, and they broke in the door. There they saw the
woman lying dead. They fled in fear, saying, "What is this that has killed
our father's wife?" They went down to the beach to meet him as be returned
from fishing, and excitedly told him, "Father, we have found your Boheba
wife dead!" The man, to their surprise, did not seem grieved. He simply
said, "Let another one of my wives cook for me; I will first eat." Still
more to their surprise, he added, "And you, my children, and all people of
the village, do not -any of you dare even to touch the body. Only, at once,
send word to her Boheba relatives to come."
This warning he gave his people, lest any of them should sicken by coming
close to the atmosphere that the witch had possibly brought back with her
from her play.
By the time he had fmished eating, the woman's relatives had arrived. They
were all heavily armed with guns and spears and knives, and were threatening
revenge for their sister's death.
The man quietly bade them delay their anger till they had heard what he had
to say; and took them to the woman's hut, that they themselves -might
examine the corpse, leaving to them the chance of contamination.
They examined; they lifted up the body of their sister, and searched closely
for any sign of wound or bruise. Finding none, but still angry, they were
mystified, and exclaimed, "What then has killed her?" And they seated
themselves for a verbal investigation. But the man said, "We will not talk
just yet. First stand up, and you shall see for yourselves." As they arose,
the man said, "Remove all those sticks in that wood-pile. You will find the
woman there." So they pulled away the sticks; and there they found Three-
Things. "There!" said the husband, "see the reason why your sister is dead!"
At that the relatives were ashamed, and said, "Brother-in-law! we have
nothing to say against you, for our eyes see what our sister has done. She
has killed herself, and she is worthy to be punished by fire." (Burning was
a common mode of execution for the crime of witchcraft.)
In her terror at being unable to get back into her mortal body, the Three-
Things, all the while she was hidden in the wood-pile, had shrivelled
smaller and smaller until what was left were three deformed crab-sbaped
beings, a few inches long, with mouths like frogs. These, paralyzed with
fear, could not speak, but could only chatter and tremble.
So the relatives seized these Three-Things, and also carried away the body;
and, followed by all the people of the village, they burnt it and them on a
large rock by the sea.
That rock I pass very often as I walk on the beach. At high tide it is
cutoff from the shore a distance of a few yards; at low tide one can walk
out to it. It is only a few hundred yards from our Batanga Mission Station.
CHAPTER XVII
FETICH IN FOLK-LORE
THE telling of Folk-lore Tales amounts, with the African Negro, almost to a
passion. By day, both men and women have their manual occupations, or, even
if idling, pass the time in sleep or gossip; but at night, particularly with
moonlight, if there be on hand no dances, either of fetich-worship or of
mere amusement, some story-teller is asked to recite. All know the tales,
but not all can recite them dramatically. The audience never wearies of
repetition. The skilful story-teller in Africa occupies in the community the
place filled in civilization by the actor or concert-singer.
This is true all over Africa. In any one region there are certain tales
common to all the tribes in that region. But almost every tribe will have
tales distinctive to it. It is part of native courtesy to ask a visitor to
contribute his local story to the amusement of the evening.
Some of these tales are probably of ancient origin, as to their plot and
their characters. I am disposed to give the folk-lore of Africa a very
ancient origin. Ethnology and philology trace the Bantu stream from the
northeast, not by a straight line diagonally to the southwest, but the
stream, starting with an infusion of Hamitic (and perhaps Caucasian) blood
in the Nubian provinces, flowed south to the Cape, and then, turning on
itself, flowed northwestward until it lost itself at the Bight of Benin.
That blood gave to the Bantu features more delicate than those of the
northern Guinea Negro.
That stream, as it flowed, carried with it arts, thoughts, plants, and
animals from the south of Egypt. The bellows used in every village smithy on
the West Coast is the same as is depicted on Egyptian monuments. The great
personages mentioned as "kings" are probably semi-deified ancestors, or are
even confounded with the Creator. It may not be only a coincidence that the
ancient Egyptian word "Ra" exists in west equatorial tribes (contracted from
"rera" = my father) with its meaning of "Lord," "Master,"Sir." In these
tales the name Ra-Mborakinda, is used interchangeably with the Divine Name,
Ra-Nyambe.
But it is true that a doubt can be raised against the antiquity of some of
the tales, in which are introduced words, e.g. "cannon," "pistol," articles
not known to the African until comparatively modern times. And in the case
of a few, such as No. V., the origin is in all probability modern. In No. V.
the reader at once turns in thought to "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves."
There the internal evidence is positive, either that the story was heard
long ago from Arabs (or perhaps within the last hundred years from some
foreigner), or there may have been an original African story, to which
modern narrators have attached incidents of Ali Baba which they have
overheard within the last fifty years from some white trader or educated
Sierra-Leonian.
But it would not necessarily condemn a tale's claim to antiquity that it had
in it modern words. Such words as "gun," "pistol," "stairway," "canvas," and
others may be interpolations. It was probably true long ago, as is now the
case, that narrators added to or changed words uttered by the characters.
Where in the plot some modern weipon is named, long ago it was perhaps a
spear, club, or bow and arrow. When Dutch and Portuguese built their forts
on the African shore three hundred years ago, some bright narrator could
readily have varied the evening's performance by introducing a cannon into
the story. Such variations necessarily grew; for the native languages were
not crystallized into written ones until the days of the modern missionary.
In recitation great latitude is allowed as to the time occupied. Brevity is
not desired. A story whose outline could be told in ten minutes may be
spread over two hours by a vivid use of the speaker's imagination in a
minute description of details. A great deal of repetition (after the manner
of "This is the house that Jack built") is employed, that would be wearisome
to a civilized audience, but is intensely enjoyed by the African, e.g.,
where the plot calls for the doing of an act for several days in succession,
we would say simply, "And the next day he did the same." But the native
lover of folk-lore will repeat the same details in the same words for the
second and third and even fourth day. In my reporting I have omitted this
repetition.
I have purposely used some native idioms in order to retain local color.
African narrators use very short sentences. ... One of their daily
recognized idioms finds its exact parallel in the speech of our own
children. Listen to a civilized child's animated account of some act. They
repeat. The native does so constantly. He is not satisfied, in telling the
narrative of a journey, by saying curtly, "I went." His form is, "I went,
went, there, there," etc. His dramatic acting keeps up the interest of the
audience in the twice-told tale.
I. QUEEN NGWE-NKONDE AND HER MANJA.
A king, by name Ra-Mborakinda, had many wives, but be had no children at
all. He was dissatisfied, and was always saying that he wanted children. So
he went to a certain great wizard, named Ra-Marānge, to get help for his
trouble.
Whenever any one went on any business to Ra-Marānge, before he had time to
tell the wizard what he wanted, Ra-Marānge would say, "Have you come to have
something wonderful done?" On the visitor saying, "Yes," Ra-Marānge, as the
first step in his preparations and to obtain all needed power, would jump
into fire or do some other astonishing act.
So, this day, he sprang into the fire, and came out unharmed and strong.
Then he told Ra-Mborakinda to tell his story of what be had come for.
The king said, "Other people have children, but I have none. Make me a
medicine that sball cause my women to bear children." Ra-Marānge replied,
"Yes, I will fix you the medicine; and after I have made the mixture, you
must require all of your women to eat of it." So the wizard fixed the
medicine, and the king took it with him and went home.
His queen's name was Ngwe-nkonde; and among his lesser wives and concubines
were two quite young women who were friends, one of whom lived with the
queen in her hut as her little manja, or handmaid.
As soon as Ra-Mborakinda arrived, he announced his possession of the
medicine, and ordered all his women to come and eat of it. But Ngwe-nkonde
was jealous of her young maid, and did not wish her to become a mother. So,
early in the morning, she purposely sent the manja away to their mpindi
(plantation hut) on a made-up errand, so that she might not be present at
the feast.
At the appointed hour the king spread out the medicine, and called the women
to come. They each came with a piece of plantain leaf as a plate, and
assembled to eat, and Ramborakinda divided out the medicine among them. Then
the other of the two young women remembered her friend the manja, and
observed that she was absent. So she quickly tore off a piece of her
plantain leaf, and divided on it a part of her own share of the medicine,
and hid it by her, to keep it for the manja, so that she could have it on
her return from the mpindi. In the afternoon, when the manja returned, her
friend gave her the portion of the medicine, and she ate it. Soon after
this, all these women told Ra-Mborakinda that they expected to become
mothers.
After a few months he announced to them that he was going away on a long
trade-journey and that he would not return until a stated time. He gave them
directions that in the meanwhile they should leave his town and go to their
parents' homes and stay there until his return.
Now it happened that all these women had homes except the little manja; her
parents were dead, but she remembered the locality of their deserted
village.
So Ra-Mborakinda left to go on his journey, and all the expectant mothers
scattered to the homes of their parents, except the manja, who had to follow
with the queen to her people's village. But soon after their arrival at
Ngwe-nkonde's home, the latter began to treat her maid cruelly; and finally,
in her severity, she said, "Go away to your own home and sojourn there," the
while that she knew very well that her manja had no home. Her thought and
hope were that the manja would perish in the wilderness.
As the maid knew the spot where her home had been, she left Ngwe-nkonde's
village, and started into the forest to go to her deserted village. On
arriving there, she found no houses nor any remains of human habitation. But
there was a very large fallen tree, with a trunk so curved that it was not
lying entirely flat on the ground. Under this enormous log she sat down to
rest, and it gave her shade and shelter. She accepted it as her place at
which to live and slept there that night. When she awoke in the morning, she
saw lying near her food and other needed things; but she saw no one coming
or going. A few days later on awaking in the morning she saw a nice little
house with everything prepared of food and clothing and medicines and such
articles as would be needed by a mother for her babe. She stayed there, and
in a few days gave birth to a man-child. Each day in the morning she found,
prepared for her hand, food and other needed things lying near.
So she stayed there a long time till her baby was able to creep. When the
baby had grown strong, she knew it was the time that Ra-Mborakinda had
appointed for the return of his women to his town. She flnally gathered
together her things for the journey next day. That night, before she had
gone to sleep, suddenly she saw a little girl standing near her, and she
heard a voice which she remembered as her mother's saying, "I give you this
little girl to carry the babe for you. But when you go back to Ra-
Mborakinda, do not allow anyone but yourself and this girl to carry the
child; if you do, the girl will disappear." So the next morning they started
on their journey, the young mother and baby and the girl-nurse.
During this while each of the other women had also born her baby, and they
were now preparing to return to Ra-Mborakinda's town. But of them all none
had born real human beings, except the manja and her young friend. All the
others had born monstrosities, like snakes, frogs, and other creatures.
Ngwe-nkonde had born two snails, of the kind called "nkala." (It is a very
large snail.)
So that day Ngwe-nkonde was coming along with her nyamba (a long scarf) hung
over her right shoulder, and her two snails resting in the slack of the
scarf, as in a hammock, over her left hip, and supported by her left arm.
When the manja reached the cross-roads, she found the queen waiting there.
Her object in waiting there was to know whether her maid was still in
existence.
On seeing the manja, Ngwe-nkonde pretended to be pleased and said, "Let me
see the child you have born;" and she stepped forward to take the baby away
from the little girl-nurse. Manja, in her fear of her mistress and
accustomed to submit to her, forgot to resist. Ngwe-nkonde saw that the babe
was healthy and attractive, and she coveted it. She exclaimed, "Oh, what a
nice child you have born! Let me help you carry it!" The moment she took the
baby, the girl-nurse disappeared. Ngwe-nkonde deposited the babe in her
scarf, and gave the two snails to her manja, saying, "You carry this for
me!" She did this, intending to cause Ra-Mborakinda to think that the baby
was her own; she had no intention to return it to its real mother; and the
manja did not dare to complain.
So they went onward on their journey to the king's town. All the women, as
they arrived there, saluted each other, "Mbolo!" "Ai! mbolo!" "Ai!" and each
told her story and showed her baby. Then they all brought their babies to
the King Ra-Mborakinda, that the father might see his children. In the
king's presence Ngwe-nkonde took out the baby boy from her scarf and placed
it at her breast to nurse. But the child turned its bead away and would not
nurse, and did nothing but cry and cry. Poor little manja did not dare to
claim her own, and she took no interest in the snails to show them to the
king. For a whole day there was confusion. The baby boy persisted in
rejecting Ngwenkonde's breast and kept on crying, and the snails were
moaning.
Not knowing what to make of this trouble, Ra-Mborakinda went again to Ra-
Marānge. The wizard laughed when he saw the king coming with this new
trouble, for, by his magic power, he already knew all that had happened.
"So!" he says, "you have come with another trouble, eh?" And at once he
jumps into the fire, and emerges clean and strong.
Then the king informed the wizard what his difficulty was. And Ra-Marānge
told him, "This is a small thing. It does not need medicine. Go you and tell
all your women each to cook some very nice food; then, sitting in a circle,
each must put the nice food near her feet. All the babies must be put in a
bunch together in the centre, and you will see what will happen."
So Ra-Mborakinda went back to his town and told the women to follow these
directions. They all did so, except the queen and her manja. The former did
not put the baby boy in the bunch of the other babies, but retained him on
her lap, and tried to make him eat of her nice food. But he only resisted,
and kept on crying, and the manja, in her grief and hopelessness, had not
prepared any nice food, only a pottage of greens, which she thought good
enough for her present unhappiness.
The king seeing that the wizard's directions were not fully followed by the
queen, compelled her to put the baby down in the company of the other
creatures, and then he and all the mothers sat around watching what would
happen.
Soon all the children began to creep, each to its own mother. The two snails
went to Ngwe-nkonde, and began to eat of her nice food. The little baby boy
crept rapidly toward the manja, and began with satisfaction to eat of the
poor food at its mother's feet.
That was a revelation to the king and to all the other mothers. They were
surprised and indignant that Ngwenkonde had been trying to steal the baby
from the manja; Ra-Mborakinda deposed her from being queen. And the other
women shouted derision at her, "Ngwe-nkonde! O! o-o-o! " and drove her from
the town. She went away in her shame, leaving the two snails behind, and
never returned.
And the king made the manja queen in her place. And the story ends.
II. THE BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER.
There was a married woman, a king's daughter, by name Maria, who was very
beautiful. She had a magic mirror that possessed the power of speech, which
she used every day, particularly when she desired to go out for a promenade.
She would then take this mirror from its hiding-place, and looking at it,
would ask, " My mirror! is there any other beautiful woman like myself?" And
this mirror would reply, "Mistress! there is none."
This she was accustomed to do every day until she became jealous at the very
thought of ever having a rival.
Subsequently she became a mother, and bore a daughter. She saw that the
child was very beautiful, more so than even herself. This child grew in
gracefulness; was amiable, not proud; and was unconscious of her beauty.
When the daughter was about twelve years of age, the mother dreaded lest her
child should know how attractive she was and should unintentionally rival
her. She told her never to enter a certain room where she had her toilet.
And the mother went on as formerly, looking into her mirror, and then going
out to display her beauty.
One day the daughter said to herself, "Ah! I'm tired of this prohibition I"
So she took the keys, and opened the door of the forbidden room. She looked
around, but not observing anything especially noticeable, she went out
again, locking the door. And the next day, the mother went in as usual, and
then went out for her walk. After the mother had gone, the daughter said
again to herself, "No! there must be something special about that room. I
will go in again and make a search." Looking around carefully, she noticed a
pretty casket on a table. Opening it, she saw it contained a mirror. There
was something strange about its appearance, and she determined to examine
it. While she was doing so, the mirror spoke, and said, "Oh, maiden! there
is no one as beautiful as you!" She put back the mirror in its place, and
went out, carefully fastening the door. The next day, when the mother went
as usual to make her toilet and to ask of the mirror her usual question, "
Is there another as beautiful as I?" it replied, "Yes, mistress, there is
another fairer than you."
So she went out of the room much displeased, and, suspecting her daughter,
said to her, "Daughter, have you been in that room?" The girl said, "No, I
have not." But the mother insisted, "Yes, you have; for how is it that my
mirror tells me that there is another woman more beautiful than I? And you
are the only one who has beauty such as mine."
During all these years the mother had kept the daughter in the palace, and
had not allowed her to be seen in public, as she dreaded to bear any one but
herself praised. Then the enraged mother sent for her father's soldiers, and
delivering the girl to them, she commanded, "You just go out into the forest
and kill this girl."
They obeyed her orders, and led the girl away, taking with them also two big
dogs. When they reached the forest, the soldiers said to her, "Your mother
told us to kill you. But you are so good and pretty that we are not willing
to do it. You just go your way and wander in this forest, and await what may
happen."
The girl went her way; and the soldiers killed the two dogs, so that they
might have blood on their swords to show to the mother. Having done this,
they went back to her, and said, "We have killed the girl; here is her blood
on our swords." And the mother was satisfied.
But in the forest the girl had gone on, wandering aimlessly, till she
happened to reach what seemed a hamlet having only one house. She went up
its front steps and tried the door. It was not locked, and she went in. She
saw or heard no one, but she noticed that the house was very much in
disorder; so she began to arrange it. After sweeping and putting everything
in neat order, she went upstairs and hid herself under one of the bedsteads.
But she did not know that the house belonged to robbers who spent their days
in stealing, and brought their plunder home in the evening. When they
returned that day, laden with booty, they were surprised to find their house
in neat order and their goods arranged in piles. In their wonder they
exclaimed, "Who has been here and fixed our house so nicely?"
So they prepared their food, ate, drank, and slept, but they did not clean
up the table nor wash the dishes.
And the next day they went out again on their business of stealing.
After they were gone, the girl, hungry and frightened, crept out of her
hiding-place, and cooked and ate food for herself. Then, as on the first
day, she swept the floors and washed up the dishes. And then she cooked a
meal for the men to have it ready against their return in the late
afternoon; and again she occupied herself with the arrangement of the goods
in the rooms. Then she went back to her hiding-place.
When the robbers returned that day and laid down their booty, they were
again surprised to find not only their house in good order, but food ready
on the table. And they wondered, "Who does all this for us?"
They first sat down to eat; and then they said, "Let us look around and find
out who does all this." They searched, but they found no one.
The next daytheyarmed themselves as usual to go out, leaving the table and
their recent load of stealings in disorder.
When they had gone, the girl again emerged from her hiding-place, and, as
before, cooked, ate, washed up, swept, arranged, and prepared the evening
meal.
Again the robbers, on their return, were still more astonished, as they
exclaimed, "Whoever does this? If it is a woman, then we will take her as
our sister. She shall take care of our house and our goods, but none of us
shall marry her; but if it is a man, he must be compelled to join in our
business."
The next day, when they were all going out on their ways, they appointed one
of their number to remain behind, hidden, who should watch, and thus they
should know who had been helping them.
When they had gone, the girl, ignorant that one had been left to watch, came
out of her biding, and began to do as on the other days. When she went
outdoors to the kitchen [kitchens here are all detached] to cook, the
watcher came in sight. She was frightened, and began to run away; but he
called out, "Don't be afraid! Don't run, but come here! What are you afraid
of? You are not doing anything bad, you have been doing us only good. Come
here!" She stood and said, "I was afraid you would kill me!"
He came to her, saying, "What a beautiful girl to look at! When did you come
here, and who are you?" So she told him her story. And when she had finished
all the housework, she sat down with this man to await the coming of the
others. When the others came and saw the two, they said to him, "So you
found her?" He replied only, "Yes." Looking on her, they exclaimed, "Oh,
what a beautiful girl!" To calm her excitement, they told her, "Do not be
alarmed! You are to be our sister."
So they took all their goods and put them in her care, and herself in charge
of the house. Thus they lived for some time, - they stealing, and she taking
care for them.
But one day, at the palace, the wicked mother began to have some uneasy
doubts whether her soldiers had really obeyed her orders to kill her
daughter, and thought, "Perhaps the child was not really killed." She had a
familiar servant, an old woman, very friendly to her. To her she revealed
her story, and said, "Please go out and spy in every town. Look whether you
see a girl who is very beautiful; if so, she is my daughter. You must kill
her." The old woman replied, "Yes, my friend, I will do this thing for you."
So she went out and began her spying.
The very first place at which she happened to arrive was the robbers' house.
There being no people in sight, she entered the house, and found a girl
alone. On account of the girl's great beauty, she felt sure at once that
this was her friend's daughter. The girl gave her a seat and offered
hospitality. The old woman exclaimed, "Oh, what a nice looking child! Who
are you, and who is your mother?" The girl, not suspecting evil, told her
story.
Then the old woman said, "Your hair looks a little untidy. Come here, and
let me fix it." The girl consented; and the old woman began to braid her
hair. She had bidden in her sleeve a long sharpened nail. When she had
completed the hair-dressing, she thrust the nail deeply into the girl's
head, who instantly fell down, apparently dead. Looking at the limp body,
the old woman said to herself, "Good for that! I have done it for my
friend." And she went away, leaving the corpse lying there, and reported to
the mother what she had done. The mother felt sure her friend had not
deceived her.
When the robbers returned that day, they found the girl lying dead. They
were very much troubled. They began to examine the corpse, to find what was
the cause of death, but they found no sign of any wound; and instead of the
corpse being rigid, it was limp; there was perspiration on the head and
neck. So they decided, "This nice life-looking face we will not put in a
grave." So they made a handsome casket, overlaid it with gold, and adorned
the body with a profusion of gold ornaments. They did not nail on the lid,
but made it to slide in grooves. Supposing the body liable to decay, they
placed the coffin outdoors in the air; and to keep it out of the reach of
any animals, they hung it by the halliards of their flag-staff. Every day,
on their going out and on their return, they pulled it down by the
halliards, drew out the lid, and looked on the fresh, apparently living face
of their "sister."
One day while they were all out on their business there happened to stray
that way a man by name Eserengila (tale-bearer), who lived at the town of a
man named Ogula. Coming to the robbers' house, he saw no one; but he at once
observed the hanging golden box. Exclaiming, "What a nice thing!" he hasted
back to his master Ogula, and called him. "Come and see what a nice thing I
have found; it is something worth taking!" So Ogula went with him, and
Eserengila pulled down the gilded box from the flag-staff. They did not
enter the house, nor did they know anything of its character; and they
carried away the box in baste, without looking at its contents, to Ogula's,
and put it in a small room in his house.
Some days after it had been placed there Ogula went in to examine what it
contained. He saw that the top of this coffin-like box was not nailed, but
slid in a groove. He withdrew it, and was amazed to see a beautiful young
woman apparently dead. Yet there was no look or odor of death. As she was
not emaciated by disease, he examined the body to find a possible cause of
death; but be found no sign, and wondering, exclaimed, "This beautiful girl!
What has caused her to die?"
He replaced the lid, and left the room, carefully closing the door. But he
again returned to look at the beautiful face of the corpse; and sighed, "Oh,
I wish this beautiful being were alive! She would be such a nice playmate
for my daughter, who is just about her size." Again be went and shut the
door very carefully. He told his daughter never to enter that room, and she
said, "Yes "; and he continued his daily visits there.
After many days Ogula's daughter became tired of seeing him enter while she
was forbidden. So one day, when he was gone out of the house, she said to
herself, "My father always forbids me this room; now I will go in and see
what he has there." She entered, and saw only the gilded box, and exclaimed,
"Oh, what a nice box! I'll just open it and see what is inside."
She began to draw the lid out of its grooves, and a human head was revealed
with a splendid mass of hair covered with gold ornaments. She withdrew the
lid entirely, and saw the form of the young woman, and delightedly said, "A
beautiful girl, with such nice hair, and covered with golden ornaments!" She
did not know why the girl seemed so unconscious, and began to say, "I wish
she could speak to me, so we might be friends, because she is only a little
larger than I." So she gave the stranger's salutation, "Mbolo! mbolo!" As no
response was made, she protested, "Oh, I salute you, mbolo, but you do not
answer!" She was disappointed, and slid back the cover, and went out of the
room. Something about the door aroused the suspicions of her father on his
return to the house, and he asked her, "Have you been inside that room?" She
answered, "No! You told me never to go there, and I have not gone." Next day
Ogula went out again, and his daughter thought she would have another look
at the beautiful face. Entering the room, she again drew out the lid, and
again she gave the salutation, "Mbolo!" There was no response. Again she
protested, "Oh, I speak to you, and you won't answer me!" And then she
added, "May I play with you, and fondle your head, and feel your hair?
Perhaps you have lice for me to remove?" [one of the commonest of native
African friendly services among both men and women]. She began to feel
through the hair with her fingers, and presently she touched something hard.
Looking closely, she found it was the head of a nail. Astonished, she said,
Oh, she has a nail in her head! I 'll try to pull it out!
Instantly, on her doing so, the girl sneezed, opened her eyes, stared
around, rose up in a sitting posture, and said, "Oh, I must have been
sleeping a long time." The other asked, "You were only sleeping?" And the
girl replied, "Yes." Then Ogula's daughter saluted, "Mbolo! and the girl
responded, "Ai, Mbolo!" and the other, "Ai!"
Then the girl asked, "Where amI? What place is this?" The other said, " Why,
you are in my father's house. This is my father's house." And the girl
asked, "But who or what brought me here?" Then Ogula's daughter told her the
whole story of Eserengila's having found the gilded box. They at once
conceived a great liking for each other, and started to be friends. They
played and laughed and talked and embraced, and fondled each other. This
they did for quite a while.
Then the beautiful one was tired, and she said, "It is better that you put
back the nail and let me sleep again." So the girl lay down in the box, the
nail was inserted in her bead, and she instantly fell into unconsciousness.
Ogula's daughter slid back the lid, and went out of the room, carefully
closing the doox. She now lost all desire to go out of the house and play
with her former companions. Her father observed this, and urged her to play
and visit as she formerly had done. But she declined, making some excuses,
and saying she had no wish to do so. All her interest lay in that room of
the gilded box and beautiful girl. Whenever her father went out, she at once
would go to the room, draw out the lid, and pull out the nail; her friend
would sit up, and they would play, and repeat their friendship. Ogula's
daughter, seeing that her friend's desire for sleep was weakness for want of
food, daily brought her food. And the girl grew strong and well and happy.
This was kept up many days without Ogula knowing of it.
But it happened one day, when the two girls were thus sitting in their
friendship, they continued their play and conversation so long that Ogula's
daughter forgot the time of her father's return; and he suddenly entered the
room, and was surprised to see the two girls talking. She was frightened
when she saw her father. But he was not angry, and quieted her, saying, "Do
not be afraid! How is it that you have been able to bring this girl to life?
What have you done?"
She told her father all about it, especially of the nail. Then Ogula sat
down by the girl of the gilded box, and asked the story of her life. She
told him all. Then he said, "As your mother is the kind of woman that sends
people to kill, and I am chief in this place, I will-investigate this matter
to-morrow. I will call all the people of this region, and there will be an
ozāzā (palaver) in the morning; and you shall remain, for you are to be my
wife."
The next day all the country side were called, - the wicked mother, the
soldiers, the old woman, and everybody else (except the unknown robbers).
The palaver was talked from point to point of the history, and, just at the
last, this beautiful girl walked into the assemblage, accompanied by Ogula's
daughter.
As soon as Maria saw her daughter enter, she started from her seat, looked
at the old woman, and fiercely said to her, "Here is this girl again! not
dead yet! I thought you killed her!" The old woman was amazed, but asserted,
"Yes, and I did. I kept my promise to you!"
Then the girl sat down, and Ogula bade her tell her entire story in the
presence of all the people. So she told from the very beginning, - about the
magic looking-glass, about the soldiers, about the robbers' house, and on
till the stay in Ogula's house.
Then all the people began to shout and deride and revile, and threaten Maria
and the old woman. This frightened the cruel Maria and her wicked friend,
and they ran away to a far country, and never came back again.
So the beautiful young woman was married to Ogula, and was happy with his
daughter as a companion.
But the robbers, in their secret house, not having heard of the ozāzā , kept
on mourning and grieving for their lost sister, not knowing where she had
gone or what had become of her. And so the story ends.
(The above story is probably not more than two hundred or two hundred and
fifty years old; the name " Maria " doubtless being derived from Portuguese
occupants of the Kongo country.)
III. THE HUSBAND WHO CAME FROM AN ANIMAL.
Ra-Nyambie in his great town had his wives and sons and daughters, and lived
in glory.
He had a best-beloved daughter, by name Ilāmbe. There is a certain fetich
charm called "ngalo," by means of which its possessor can have gratified any
wish be may express. Ngalo is not obtainable by purchase or art; only
certain persons are born with it. This Ilāmbe was born with a ngalo. While
she was growing up, her father made a great deal of her and gave her very
many things, - servants and houses, according to her wishes. When Ilāmbe had
grown up to womanbood, she said, "Father, I will not like a man who has
other wives. I shall want my husband all for myself." And the father said,
"Be it so."
As years went on, Ilāmbe thought it was time she should be married, but she
saw no one who pleased her fancy. So she took counsel with her ngalo,
thinking, "What shall I do to get a husband for myself?"
She decided on a plan. Her father's people often went out hunting. One day,
when they were going out, she said to them, "If you find some small animal,
do not kill it, but bring it to me alive."
So they went out hunting, and they found a small animal resembling a goat,
called "mbinde" (wild goat). They brought it to her, asking pardon for its
smallness, and said, "We did not find anything, only this mbinde." She took
it, saying, "It is good." Then turning to one of the men, she bade him,
"Just skin this very carefully for me"; and to another of the servants,
"Bring me plenty of water, and put it in my bathroom for a bath." Each of
these servants did as he was bidden, -this one flaying the animal, that one
bringing the water. When the one had finished flaying, and brought the
entire flesh to her, she said, " Just put it into this water for a bath."
She left it there two days, soaking in the water., The skin she put in a
fire, burned it to black ashes, and carefully saved all the ash. This she
did not do herself, but told a servant to do it, cautioning him to lose none
of it. When it was brought to her, she wrapped it up with care, and put it
safely away so that none of it should be lost.
On the third day she spoke to her ngalo, "Ngalo mine, ngalo mine, I tell
you, turn this mbinde to a very handsomelooking man!" Instantly the mbinde
was changed to a finely formed man, who jumped out of the bath-tub, dressed
very richly.
Then Ilāmbe called one of her servants, and bade, "Go to my father, and tell
him I wish the town to be cleaned as thoroughly and quickly as possible,
because I have a husband, and I want to come and show him to you; so my
father must be ready to greet us."
The father summoned his servant Ompunga (Wind), who came, and at once swept
up the place clean.
Ilāmbe went out from her house with her husband, be and she walking side by
side through the street on the way to her father's house. All along their
route the people were wondering at the man's fine appearance, and shouting,
" Where did Ilāmbe get this man? " When she reached her father's house, he
ordered a salute of cannon for her. He was much pleased to see the man with
the crowd of people, and received him with respect.
Having thus visited her father, Ilāmbe returned to her own house with her
husband, the people still shouting in admiration of him. The news spread
everywhere about Ilāmbe's fine-looking husband, and there was great praise
of them. They lived happily in their marriage for a while, but trouble came.
Ilāmbe had a younger sister living still at her father's house. One day
Ilāmbe changed her mind about having a husband all to herself, and thought,
"I better share him with my younger sister." So she went out to her father
to tell him about it, saying, "Father, I 've changed my mind. 1 want my
younger sister to live with me, and marry the same man with me."
Her father, though himself having many wives, said, "You now change your
mind, and are willing to share your husband with another woman. Will there
be no trouble in the future?" She answered "No!" He repeated his question;
but she assured him it would be agreeable. So she took her sister (without
consulting the husband, as he was under her control, by power of her ngalo),
led her to her house, and presented her as a new wife to her husband.
They remained on these terms for some time without any trouble. But as time
went on, the report about that handsome man went far, and finally reached
Ra-Mborakinda's town. Another woman lived there, also named Ilāmbe, of the
same age as the other, and she was unmarried. This Ilāmbe said to herself,
"I am tired of hearing the report about this handsome man. I will go, though
uninvited I be, and see for myself." So she tells her brother and some of
his men, "Take me over there to that town, and I will return to-day." She
told her father the same words: "I am going to see that man, and will
return." When this Ilāmbe got to the other Ilāmbe's house, the husband was
out, but the wife received her with great hospitality; and the two sisters
and their visitor all ate together. Soon the husband came, and the wife
introduced the visitor. "Here is my friend Ilāmbe come to see you." "Good,"
he said. Then it was late in the day, and the visiting Ilāmbe's attendants
said to her, "The day is past; let us be going." But she refused to go, and
told them to return, saying that she would stay awhile with her friend
Ilāmbe.
But really, in her coming she was not simply a visitor and sightseer; she
intended to stay and share in the husband.
As her brother was leaving, he asked, "But when will you return? and shall
we come for you?" She said, "No; I myself will come back when I please."
When the evening came, the hostess began to fix a sleeping-place for her
visitor, showing her much kindness in the care of her arrangements.
The second day the hostess observed something suspicious in the manner with
which her husband regarded the visitor; he said to his wife, "Here is your
friend. Speak to her for me. Are you willing to do that?" She looked at him
steadily, and slowly said, "Yes." So at evening she spoke of the matter to
her visitor, who at once assented.
When Ilāmbe parted with her husband before retiring, she said to him, "Go
with this new woman, but do not forget your and my morning custom." [That
was their habit of rising very early for a morning bath.] He only said,
"Yes." They all retired for the night.
The next morning the hostess was up early as usual, and had her bath, and
was out of her room, waiting. But the man was not up yet, nor were there any
sounds of preparation in his room. So Ilāmbe, after waiting awhile, had to
call to waken him. He woke, saying, "Oh, yes, yes, I'm coming! "
The next day it was the same, he staying with the new Ilāmbe and rising late
in the morning. The fourth day his wife said to him, "You have work to do,
and you do not get up to do it till late." He was displeased at her fault-
finding. When she saw that, she also was displeased.
So when he went to the bathroom she followed him there. On the way she had
secretly taken with her the roll of black powder she had kept from the day
of his creation.
While he was bathing, she turned aside, without his noticing it, and opening
the roll of the powder, took out of it a little, and held it between her
finger and thumb.
While he was dressing, she came near, stooped down, and rubbed the powder on
his feet. They suddenly turned to hoofs. He began stamping his hoofs on the
floor, surprised, and saying, "Wife, what is this?" She said, "It is
nothing. You have finished dressing. Go out." He began to plead; she
relented, and by her ngalo's power changed the hoofs back to feet. They both
went out of the room and had their breakfast, and that day passed. But at
night he again abandoned his wife for the new Ilāmbe, and next morning he
was up later even than on the previous days. He had to be called several
times before he would awake. He began to grumble and scold, "Can't a person
be left to sleep as long as be desires?" And when he and the new Ilāmbe came
from that bedroom, she joined in the man's displeasure at his having been
disturbed. He went for his bath. The wife followed, and used the powder as
she had done the day before, turning his feet to hoofs. He begged and
pleaded. She again forgave him, and fixed the feet again. And they two came
out of the bathroom and had their breakfast as usual. He went to his work,
and the day wore on. At night he again deserted his wife. The next morning
there was the same confusion in arousing him as on the other days.
His wife accompanied him to the bathroom as usual. While be was in the bath,
and before he was done bathing, she left the room, and told the new Ilāmbe,
"You sit down near the bathroom door. You will see him come out." The
visitor replied, "It is well "; and she sat down. And Ilāmbe went into the
bathroom again.
When the man got out of his bath, as soon as he attempted to dress himself,
Ilāmbe, without saying anything or making any complaint, went behind him,
and having the whole roll of powder with her, she opened the bundle, flung
it on his back, and said, "You go back to where you came from!" Instantly he
was changed to a mbinde, and he began to leap about as a goat. Then Ilāmbe
cried out to the other Ilāmbe at the door, "Are you ready to receive him?
He's coming!" and she opened the door. Out ran the mbinde, leaped from the
house, dashed through the town and off to the forest, the people shouting in
derision, "Hā! Hā! Hā! So, indeed, that handsome man was the mbinde that was
taken to Ilāmbe's house!
Then the wife said to the other Ilāmbe, " Did you see your man? Call him!
That's he running off there!" The next day Ilāmbe said to the visitor, "Send
word for your people that they may come for you."
The following day they were sent for, and they came to Ilāmbe's house. After
they had arrived, Ilāmbe sent word to her father, "Have your place cleaned,
I am coming to enter a complaint." The father replied, "Very well!" Ompunga
came and swept the place. Seats were prepared in the street. Ilāmbe summoned
the visitor and her people, saying, "Let us all go to my father's house."
So they went there, and Ilāmbe made her complaint, telling all from the
beginning: how she obtained a husband; how the other Ilāmbe had come; how
she received her kindly; how she even had been willing to share her busband
with her, but how the new Ilāmbe had monopolized instead of simply sharing;
and how things had become so bad that she had to send the man back to his
beast origin. Turning to the visiting people, she said, "I have nothing more
to say except that your sister Ilāmbe is not going back to your town, but
has to be my slave all the days of my life."
So the king's council justified her, and pronounced the judgment just. The
people scattered to their homes. And the two sisters went to their house,
with the other Ilāmbe as their slave.
IV. THE FAIRY WIFE.
In his great town, King Ra-Mborakinda, or Ra-Nyambie, lived in glory with
all his wives and sons and daughters. Some of his great and favored sons had
large business and great wealth. But there was one of the sons, named
Nkombe, whose mother was not a favorite wife of the king, so this Nkombe was
poor. Everything went against him, and his life was quite miserable; only,
he had a gun, and he knew bow to shoot; that was all. So he thought, "I'm
tired of this kind of life. I better leave and go off by myself."
He gathered together the few things that belonged to him, -a few plates and
pots, and his gun and ammunition, - and went away. He went far into the
forest, and with his machete began to clear a little place for a camping-
ground (olako).
He fixed up his camp, and next morning went out hunting. When he began to
feel hungry, he turned back to cook his food. On his return be had fresh
meat with him; this he cooked, set it on the table, and ate. After eating,
be cleared off the table, washed the dishes, brushed up the floor, and the
new meat that was left he put on the orala (drying-frame) for next day's
use. So that day's work was done.
Next day he again leaves the camp, and with his gun is off again to his
hunting. At noon he comes back with his meat, - antelope, or wild pig, or
whatever it may be. He cooks his food, eats; and that day's work is done
just as the day before.
So he did many days. After each day's work he was so tired and felt so
lonely he wished he had a mother or some one to do for him.
Unknown to him, since he had come to that olako, there was a woman named
Ilāmbe, who belonged to the awiri (fairies), who secretly had observed, all
that he did. One day she thought to herself, "Oh, I am sorry for this man; I
think that as I have the power I will turn myself into a human being and
help him, for I do not like to see him suffer." So she said to herself, "To-
day I will cause Nkombe to be unsuccessful, so that he shall kill only ntori
(a big forest rat), and I will bide myself in ntori."
So Nkombe hunted long and far that day, and saw nothing worthy of being
shot. He was getting hungry, and murmured, "Ah! I have not been able to kill
anything to-day." But presently he saw ntori pass by, and he said, "Well,
I'll have to take this small animal, utori!" He shot it, and took it with
him to his camp. When he reached the olako, as he had other meat on the
orala, and was in a hurry, after singeing and cleaning ntori, he threw it on
the orala, and took the older dried meat, and began to cook it for his
supper. He, went on with his usual day's work, as it took only a little
while to arrange ntori on the orala.
Next day be went out as usual on his hunting journey. While he was away, and
before be returned, Ilāmbe had crept out of the head of ntori. She brushed
up the camp, and made everything neat and clean. She began to cook, taking
meat from the drying-frame. She cooked it very nicely, and ate part, - her
share, just enough to satisfy her appetite. Then she crept back into ntori's
head, as she knew Nkombe must be about starting back.
Late in the afternoon Nkombe returned with some wild meat. He took down
dried meat from the orala, leaving his fresh meat unattended to, for be was
in a burry to cook, being hungry. He went to his little hut to get plate,
kettle, and so forth. To his surprise, on the table was everything ready,
food and plate and drink. He exclaimed, "What word is this? Where did this
come from? Is this the work of my mother's spirit? She has pitied me and has
come and done this. I wish I knew where she came from."
This occurred during three successive days, just the same each day. Nkombe
was puzzled. He wanted to find out, and decided to go to the great prophet,
Ra-Marānge. The prophet saw hiin coming, and greeted him, "Sale! (Hail) my
son, sale!" "Mbolo," replied Nkombe. Ra-Marānge continued, "What did you
come for? What are you doing?" "I come for you to make medicine, that you
may prophesy for me about a matter I want to find out."
Ra-Marānge said, "Child, I am old, and do not do such things now. I have
given the power to Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya" [so called because his body was
all-covered-by-a-disease-of-pimples]. "Well, where shall I go to him?" The
prophet replied, "He is not far."
Nkombe starts to go to Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya, who presently sees him
coming. As soon as Nkombe reached him, Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya said, "If you
come to me for medicine, good, for that is my only business; but if for
anything else, clear off!" "Yes, that is what I came for."
So Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya began to kindle his big fire. Nkombe was
surprised, not knowing what was to be done with the fire. The next minute he
sees Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya throw himself into the flames. Nkombe was
startled and afraid, thinking, "Is this man going to kill himself for me?"
The prophet rolled himself several times in the fire in order to get the
power. Some of his pimples on his body burst in the flame; and he jumped
out, ready with his power to do the medicine. He said, "Hah, repeat your
story; I am ready!" Nkombe told all his story, - how be had worked for
himself, and how for a few days past he had been helped by some one, and
wanted to know who it was, if Ogula-yaimpazya-vazya would please tell him.
"Hah, that's a small matter for me!" So the prophet told him, "You killed
ntori for yourself a few days ago, and this being is a woman who has come to
be your wife, and has hidden herself in ntori." "But," said Nkombe, "how
shall I be able to catch her, so that she shall be a real woman, for I do
not see her?"
"I'll let you know how. Go back and hunt all the same for three days. On the
fourth day go out as usual, but do not go hunting. Hide near the olako,-
near, but not where you will be seen." Then the prophet gave Nkombe a
prepared powder, and told him to keep it carefully. He gave him also a small
cornucopia (ozyoto) full of a bruised medicinal leaf, and told him, "Go and
put these two medicines in a secret place near your olako. On the fourth day
have these two medicines with you where you hide. When you see her come out,
and while she is doing your work, you will run and seize her, and say to
her, "You are my wife." She will not understand your language, and will
niurmur and shake her bead and resist. But when you hold her fast, sprinkle
the powder all over her body. Then take the ozoto, and squeeze some of the
juice in her nostrils, eyes, and mouth. She will begin to sneeze. Repeat the
words, 'You are my wife, my wife!' Then she will understand you, and will
yield."
So Nkombe took the medicines, and obeyed directions; hid the medicines and
hunted the three days, his heart bursting with anxiety to get the days done
that seemed so long. At last the three days were over and the fourth day
came.
Now the woman, by the power that was with her, knew all these things; she
knew she would be caught that day.
After Nkombe had left in the morning with the medicines, had hidden himself,
and was waiting for the hours to pass, the woman, hesitating on her fate,
did not come out quickly as on the other days. But finally Nkombe saw the
pieces of meat on the frames shake. And out of ntori's head came a beautiful
woman with clean soft skin. He could hardly restrain himself. She went on
with all the usual work, - cooking, and so forth. But that day she did not
divide nor partake of the food, but put all of it on the table. When be saw
she had finished, and was washing her hands preparatory to jumping back into
ntori on the orala, he came out of the bushes, and stepping cautiously but
rapidly, rushed to seize her. He caught her. She began to resist, and he
followed the prophet's directions. The woman at first was murmuring and
sobbing, and Nkombe was trying to calm her with the words "My wife."
Finally, under the powder, she quieted. When the juice was dropped into her
mouth, she was able to speak his language. She told him all her story, -how
she had pitied him, and had entered into ntori, and everything else. "But,"
she said, "there is one more thing I must tell you. I have come indeed to be
your wife, and I have the power to make you rich or poor, happy or unhappy.
I will give you only one rule: Be good to me, and I will be so to you; but
never say to me that I came from the low origin of a rat's head." Nkombe
exclaimed, "No, no I You have done so much for me, I could never so
humiliate you." "You speak well, but be very careful not to break your
promise." So they ate and finished the day's work.
Next day the woman wanted to build a town by word of her power. She said,
"Mwe [Sir] Nkombe, surely you will not live in an olako all your life. Look
for a site for a town, and mark it with stakes for its length and width."
Nkombe was puzzled. He had a wife, but where would be get materials for a
house; for be was as poor of goods as he was before? Being troubled, he made
no reply to his wife, and did not go to mark a site. At night they retired,
Nkombe still troubled about the building of a town; but Ilāmbe was smiling
in her heart, for she knew what she would do. So she made him fall into a
deep sleep. She went out at night a short distance, and chose a good town-
site. She spoke to her ngalo (a guardian-spirit charm), "Ngalo mine, before
morning I want to see all this place cleared, and covered with nice houses,
and all the houses furnished- and supplied with men and maid servants." And
she returned to bed.
Before daybreak everything was ready, as Ilāmbe desired. The ngalo had made
the olako disappear, and. Nkombe and wife were sleeping inside their nice
house. When morning came, Nkombe did not know where he was, nor even on
which side to get out of bed. He exclaimed, "What is this word?" "You are in
your own house and in your own town." So both went out to inspect their town
and their servants. Nkombe did not know how well to thank her, so glad was
he.
Later the wife became a mother, and a s,on was born. Nkombe called this
first-born Ogula. Again, a daughter was born. Then the wife told her ngalo
to bring ships of wealth. The next day ships were seen coming. Nkombe went
on board and had a conversation with the captains. They stayed a few days,
and then sailed a-way, leaving Nkombe a cargo of wealth. Another time ships
came, and Nkombe went off on board as before; and these ships sailed away,
also leaving wealth. Other children ivere born to them. Children of a fairy
mother are called "aganlo "; they grow very fast, and are very wise.
Other ships came. One day one comes, and Nkombe, having gone on board, has
there a convivial time, stays all day, and returns nearly drunk. The wife
says to him, "Nkombe, often you come from ships looking in this way, and I
do not like it. I have spoken with you often, that if a food or a drink is
not good in its effects, it is better to leave it off. But you do not care
for my words." Nkombe, under the influence of liquor, was vexed with her,
rebuked her, and began to use hard words with orāwo (insult): "You - you -
this woman who -but I won't finish it." Soon, however, he took up the
quarrel again, saying, "A person can know from your manners that you came
out of -" The wife said, "When you are drunk, you say half sentences; why
hold back? Say what you want to say."
He shouted angrily, "Yes, if I want to say it, I will say it! It was my own
ntori that I killed. If I had not killed it, would you have come out of it?"
Then Ilāmbe said, "Please repeat that; I do not quite understand you." He
repeated it. She exclaimed, "Eh!" but said no more, and waited until
morning, when he would be sober.
So early in the morning she told him to get up, so that she could do her
housework. She did the morning's work, washing things neatly. but rapidly.
Then she called her sons and daughters, and in their presence said to their
father, "You said so-and-so yesterday; now I am off and with my children."
Nkombe knew he had said the forbidden words. He pleaded for mercy; but she
replied, "No, you broke your promise." The two elder children pleaded for
their father: "It was only once. Though a bad thing, it cannot break a
marriage. Forgive it." But the mother persisted, "No!" Then the two elder
ones said they would not leave their father.
So she said to him, "Now be thankful you have these two. If it was not for
them, I would put you back where you were just as I found you; but for the
sake of these two children, I leave some of my power with them." Then to
those two she said, "You will call on me for help when you have need, and I
will be near to help you."
So she took the two younger ones, and said to their father, "As this place
is quite open, Nkombe, sit you here and see me depart." Nkombe did so. He
and the two older children watched the mother and the two younger ones walk
down the path from the town. They went to the bank of the river, and, wading
in, disappeared in the river depths.
V. THE THIEVES AND THEIR ENCHANTED HOUSE.
Ra-Mborakinda had his big town of men and women and children, all in good
condition. But a kind of plague came upon the people suddenly, killing many.
In a short time it destroyed most of the inhabitants, and finally but few
were left.
So one of the elder sons said to a younger one, "Let us flee for our lives!"
This elder brother's name was Ogula, and the younger brother's name was
Nkombe. When Ogula had thus said, "Let us flee for our lives," Nkombe
agreed. Ogula took as his servant a boy, and together with Nkombe they went
out. They went aimlessly, not following any particular plan, but vaguely
hoping to happen on any place.
They went, went, wandering on, on, till they came to a small hut, almost too
miserable for a dwelling. But in their extremity they said, "Oh! there is a
house! Let us go to it; maybe we'll find shelter there." So they walked up
to it, and, to their surprise, saw there. an old man mending a piece of
canvas.
He saluted them, and asked them where they came from. They told their story,
and Ogula asked the old man whether he would, of his kindness, give them
shelter. He said, "Yes, if you are willing to do as I tell you; for living
here is hard, and there is nothing to eat. I have to cut firewood and carry
it to the city (osenge) far away, and sell it there. That city belongs to a
big merchant."
Ogula said, "Yes; we are willing." So the next day Ogula himself and Nkombe
and their servant set themselves ready for work. After they had cut their
firewood, they asked the old man the way to the city. He directed them. They
went, sold their firewood, and brought food. This they did many times,
cutting firewood and going to the city and buying food; and they each built
a house of their own near the old man's hut.
But after a while Ogula began to tire of this kind of life so he said to
himself, "If I only had a gun, I could go hunting. But even without the gun,
I will go out and see what I can see." So he went out alone, not calling his
brother or his servant to go with him. He went and went, on, on, for a half-
day's journey, till he happened to come to a large house built in a very
strange style, having no door at its side and with a flat roof. The place
looked clean, as if kept in order by people. He approached cautiously; but
looking around, he saw no one at all. He said to himself, "Who owns this
place? Surely some one owns it, for it is so clean; but I see no one here. I
won't leave this place to-day till I know who lives here." He decided to
retire a little and climb up a tall tree overlooking the house and watch
from there. He was very hungry, having had no food that day, but he still
decided to wait and see what was about the house.
After he had been up the tree a long while, late in the afternoon he saw a
number of men coming. He saw one of them climb up the side of the house to
the roof, where was a trap-door. All of the men had bundles of goods. The
first one who had climbed to the roof spoke a few words to the door as he
stood before it, and the two parts of the door flew open of themselves. Then
the other men climbed up with their bundles, and went into the house.
All this Ogula could see from his tree-top. He said to himself, "Now I am
hungry, and must go, for I have seen enough to-day. I see that this house is
occupied, and by men, and how they enter; it is enough for to-day." He
thought it time to move before any of the people should come out of the
house. He came down rapidly, and went back to the little hut of the old man.
When he got to his own house, his brother Nkombe asked, Where have you been
all day?" Ogula said, "I was tired of working, and took a walk to the
forest, and missed my way." But he did not tell his brother the story of
what he had seen.
Ogula then ate a little and went to bed, though it was not very late. He
went thus soon to bed, for he wanted to go early next day to inspect the big
house again. So, very, very early, before daylight, Ogula was up and off,
for he did not wish his brother to ask him where he was going.
He remembered the way to the big house, and went directly there. He climbed
his tree. He looked and saw that the door of the house was open. He waited a
little while, and then saw the men climbing out of the door. Their leader
was the last; he spoke a cabalistic word, pressed his foot on the threshold,
as the two sides of the door folded together, and it was closed.
After they had been gone quite awhile, Ogula thought he would try to enter
the house, first seeking what was the way to open it. He said to himself, "I
know they have goods there, for I have seen them carried in." So he
descended from the tree, and going to the house, climbed up the side. When
he got to the top, he searched for something by which the door could be
opened. He saw nothing like a key or lock or handle. Then he remembered the
words he had heard the leader use, and thought, " Perhaps they were the
means by which the door was opened. " So he uttered the words, "Yāginla mie,
kā nungwa, aweme!" (Obey me, and thyself open!) and, to his surprise, the
door flew open. Then he went down the flight of steps leading below to the
interior of the house. He was startled when he saw the room full of all
kinds of money and goods and wealth that any one could wish to have. One
could have taken away a great deal without its absence being noticed, so
abundant was the amount.
Ogula thought, "Isn't this fine! But I must be quick, lest the owners of
this house catch me here." So he took a cloth, and put into it a few small
articles and a quantity of cash. He tied up the bundle, went up the
stairway, and walked out of the door which he had left open. At the top he
remembered the word "Nunja!" (Shut!) which the leader had used for closing.
He spoke it; and the door shut. He hasted away, and back to the hut of the
old man. He did not- enter it, but went to his own house and there hid the
bundle. He told no one anything, neither the old man nor his servant nor
even his brother. Soon the brother came over from his house, saying,
"Brother! I looked for you this morning; you must have gone out very early."
"Yes, I went out early, for I am tired of seeing so little; so I went out to
see what I could see."
The next day he did the same. On this trip be took not only money from the
house, but some fine clothing for himself to wear. As before, on emerging at
the top of the house, he spoke the word "Nunja!" the door closed, and he was
away again, no one having seen him. When Ogula got back to his house, Nkombe
asked him the same question of the day before, "Where have you been?" and he
made only the evasive answer. But Nkorobe began to be troubled. He feared
something was wrong, and be determined to find out what was the matter. So
he decided to get up next morning just as early as Ogula. The reason that
Ogula did not tell Nkombe was because the latter had a had jealous heart,
and was very covetous of money. So early in the morning Ogula was off. He
did not know that Nkombe had any thought of following him. But as soon as
Nkombe saw Ogula start, be followed him cautiously, so that he might find
out what his brother was doing.
Ogula walked on straight and rapidly, and never looked behind, for he had no
suspicion that he was being followed. When he got to the house, as usual he
ordered the door to open, and descended inside. While he was beginning to
select the things he wanted to take, to his surprise he saw Nkombe also
descending the stairway. Ogula said, "Nkombe! what is this? Who showed you
the way? Who told youto come here? I am troubled to find you here; for this
will be the end of you! I knew it was not safe for you to come here. What I
took was for us both."
Nkombe said, "No! you hid it from me. I have found it now. I will be rich
for myself." By this time Ogula had tied up his bundle ready to go out. But
Nkombe was snatching up a large quantity from every side. Ogula said,
"Nkombe! be quick! You do not know how to shut that door, and it will not be
safe for us to be found here by those people." But Nkombe was not satisfied
with one bundle, he was still gathering up other bundles. Ogula wearied of
waiting and begging of Nkombe to come, so he said he must go and leave him,
saying, "Now, Nkombe, it is not safe to wait longer. I have waited for you
and begged you to leave with me; so I go alone. You cannot get out with all
those bundles."
But Nkombe would not listen. So Ogula went out, and spoke the word that
closed the door, leaving Nkombe in the house. However, being anxious for his
brother, Ogula did not go away, but climbed his tree to see what would
happen.
When Nkombe had entered the house, he had with him a big, sharp knife.
Ogula waited outside till those people should come. Soon they came. The
leader did as usual, being the first to climb to the house-top and to order
the door to open. The door flew open, and the leader descended. As soon as
he entered, he found another man, Nkombe, in the house. The leader asked,
"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" Nkombe did not reply, but
drawing his knife, plunged it into the leaders neck. With one outcry the man
fell dead. By this time some of the other men had climbed up and were about
to enter. When they got inside, they saw their leader lying dead, and this
stranger standing armed. One of the men drew his pistol and shot Nkombe.
[Observe the pistol; all these folk-lore stories disregard anachronisms or
even impossibilities.] They carried his dead body to the roof, and threw it
off to the ground. All this Ogula saw, looking from the treetop down into
the house.
Then those people began to be perplexed and suspicious, saying, "This is not
the work of only one, for we found the door closed on our arrival. So this
person inside must have had some associate outside. How shall we find it
out?"
They began to plan, each one with his proposition. One said, "Let us go and
bury the dead body." Another, "Let us leave it and go on with our business,
and if on our return the body is missing, that will be a proof that a
partner has taken it. Then we will get on the track and find where the body
was taken." And they agreed that he whose plan proved successful should be
their new leader. So they closed the door, left Nkombe's dead body lying,
and went off on their usual business.
After they had been gone quite a while, Ogula came down quickly from the
tree. He tried to carry the body of his brother without dragging it so as
not to leave any sign of a trail. And he did not follow the path, but walked
parallel with it among the bushes. He hid the body, and then went away to
his house. He called his servant, telling him that Nkombe was dead, and that
he wanted him to come help bury the body. He did not call the old man, but
only told him that his brother was dead.
He and the servant went to the spot where he had left his brother's body.
They carried it far into the forest, buried it, and then went back to their
house.
When the thieves came again to their house, they missed the dead body, so
that part of their plan had proved true; and they said to the one who had
proposed it, "You were right. You are our leader. What is your next order?
"He said, "To-morrow we will not go out to do our business, but we will go
out to hunt for this other man."
The next day they went, and scattering searched on all paths to see whether
they would meet with some one or see some house. Some of them who were on a
certain path came to the huts of the old man and Ogula. The first person
they saw was the old man sitting in his doorway. They stopped and saluted.
They asked him a few questions, and then consulting together agreed to
return to their house and come back next day, hoping to find out something
from the old man. They went back to their house. Previous to this, from the
time that Ogula had been stealing goods he had built with his servant a
little village of his own some distance from the old man's hut. On this
first coming of the thieves, Ocula, hidden in his house, had seen them, and
he said to himself, As they now know of this place, I better go away, for
fear this thing be found out, and they kill me as they did my brother." So
at night he left that house and went off to his village.
In the morning of the next day, when the thieves came, they brought liquor,
for they had planned that they would make this old man drunk, that he might
talk when he was foolish with liquor.
They came to the old man's and saluted him. They sat and conversed, asking
him,"How many people are here? Are you always living alone?" At first be
replied, "Yes, I live alone." "But you are so old, how do you get your food
by yourself? Would you like to taste a nice drink? We are sorry for you in
your lack of comforts." " Yes, I would like to taste it."
So they opened their liquor, drank a little themselves, and gave to him.
After he had drunk he became talkative, and began conversation again: "Oh,
yes, you asked me if I lived alone. But not quite alone. There is a young
man here." The thieves were glad to hear him talk, and gave him more liquor.
He drank; they asked more questions, "You said there was another man with
you; where is he?" Then the old man repeated the whole story of the coming
of the brothers, to the death of one of them; and added, "A few days ago one
of them came to tell me he was going to bury his brother; but I do not know
when or how he died." So they asked the old man, "You know where be was
buried?" "No." "But where is that living brother?" "Oh, he has just left me,
and is gone to his new place not very far away. I have not been there, but
you can easily find it."
They consulted among themselves. "As this other man may hear of what we are
about, we will go away to-day, disguise ourselves, and to-morrow seek for
his place." So they all left.
Next day two or three came disguised, and found Ogula's new house in the
afternoon. He did not recognize their faces. He welcomed them as strangers
and treated them politely. They asked, "Is this your house? Do you live
alone?" He answered straightly, but did not mention his brother. But they
felt they had enough proof of who he was, and left. But before they left
they had observed the number and location of the rooms and the shape of the
house. In the house was a large public reception and sitting room, and from
it were doors leading to the servant's room and to a little entry opening
into Ogula's room.
The next day Ogula and his servant were doing their work of refining the
gum-copal they had gathered for trade; it was being boiled in an enormous
kettle. When this copal was melted, the kettle was set, with its boiling-hot
pitchy contents, in that little entry. In the afternoon came the whole
company of thieves, all disguised. They said, "We have come to make your
acquaintance, and to relieve your loneliness by an evening's amusement."
Ogula began to prepare them food. They sat at the food, eating and drinking;
had conversation, and spent the evening laughing and playing. At night most
of them pretended to be drunk and sleepy, and stretched themselves on the
floor of the large room as if in sleep.
Ogula also had been drinking, and said he was tired and would go to bed. But
his servant was sober; he saw what the men were doing, and suspected evil.
He thought: "Ah! my master is drunk, and these people are strangers. What
will happen?" So when the lights were put out and he was going to bed, he
left open the door of the little entry and locked the door of his master's
room. After midnight the thieves rose and consulted. "Let us go and kill
him." They arose and trod softly toward Ogula's room. Not quite sober, they
missed the proper way, stepped through the open door of the little entry,
and stumbled into the caldron of copal. It was still hot, and stuck to their
bodies like pitch. They were in agony, but did not dare to cry out. They all
were crawling covered with the hot gum, except the last man, who had jumped
over the bodies of those who had fallen before him; and he ran away to their
house.
But Ogula was sleeping, ignorant of what was going on.
In the morning the boy, who also had slept, on opening the house, found the
kettle full of tarred limbs of dead human bodies. He knocked at Ogula's door
and waked him. But Ogula said, "Don't disturb me, I am so tired from last
night's revel." "Yes, but get up and see what has happened." Ogula came and
saw. Then he told the lad that but for him he would have been dead. Ogula
thenceforth took him as a brother. Then he and the boy had a big work of
throwing out the bodies of the thieves. Ogula was not afraid of a charge of
murder, for the thieves had tumbled themselves into the scalding contents of
the kettle. He had enough wealth, and did not go again to the thieves'
house.
But that one man who had escaped was wishing for revenge, yet was afraid to
come to Ogula's house by himself. Time went on. Ogula remained quiet. But
his enemy still sought revenge, waiting for an opportunity.
Gradually, too, Ogula had forgotten his enemy's face; for the thieves were
many, and all disguised, and he would be unable to distinguish which one had
escaped.
On a time it happened that this thief went far to another country; and while
he was there, Ogula also happened to journey to that very town. The lad had
said, being now a young man, "May I go too?" "Yes, you may, for you are like
a brother. You must go wherever I do." On the very second day in the town
the two, Ogula and the thief, met. The thief recognized Ogula; but Ogula did
not recognize him, and neither spoke; but the young man, with better memory,
said to himself, "I have seen this man somewhere." He looked closely, but
said nothing.
The next day the thief made a feast. He met Ogula again on the street and
saluted him, "Mbolo! I am making a feast. You seem a stranger. I would like
you to come." "Yes; where?" "At such-and-such a place.",Yes, I will come.
But this attendant of mine is good, and must be invited too." "Yes, I have
no objections." Next evening the feast was held, and people came to it. The
thief placed Ogula and his servant near himself. There was much eating and
drinking. The thief became excited, and determined to kill Ogula at the
table by sticking him with a knife.
All the while that the thief was watching Ogula, the servant was watching
the thief. Presently the latter turned slightly and began to draw a knife.
The servant watched him closely. The thief's knife was out, and the
servant's knife was out too. But the thief was watching only Ogula, and did
not know what the servant was doing. Just as the thief was about to thrust
at Ogula, the servant jumped and thrust his knife into the thief's neck. The
man fell, blood flowing abundantly over the table. The guests were alarmed,
and were about to seize the servant, who pointed at the drawn knife in the
man's hand that had been intended for his master; and then he told their
whole story.
So the guests decided that there was no charge against Ogula and his
servant, and scattered. The next day Ogula and his servant left. As he knew
that that man was the last of the company of thieves, he said, in gladness,
"Now! Glory!" Then he thought, " All that wealth is mine, since this last
one who tried to take my life is dead."
As he had seen enough of the world by travel, he decided to stay in one
place. He would call people to live with him in a new town which he would
build for them around that enchanted house of the thieves, which he took as
his own with all its wealth. And he lived long in that house in great glory,
with wife and children and retainers and slaves.
VI. BANGA OF THE FIVE FACES.
Ra-Mborakinda lived in his town with his sons and daughters and his glory.
One son was Nkombe, and another Ogula, whose full name was Ogula-keva-
anlingo-n'-ogendā (Ogula-who-goes-faster-than-water); but they were not of
the same mother.
Ogula grew up without taking any wife. He became a great man, with knowledge
of sorcery. One day his father said to him, "Ogula, as you are a big man
now, I think it is time for you to have a wife. I think you had better
choose from one of my young wives." Ogula replied, "No, I will get a wife in
my own way." So one day be went to another osenge (clearing) of a town which
belonged to a man of the awiri (spirits; plural of "ombwiri"), i.e., one who
possessed magic power, and obtained one of his daughters. Her name was
Ikāgu-ny'-awiri.
He brought the girl home to his father's house, where she was very much
admired as "a fine woman! a fine woman!" She was indeed very pretty. Then
Ogula said to her, "As you are now my wife, you must be orunda (set apart
from) to other men, and I will be orunda to other women, even if I go to
work at another place." And she replied, "It is well. "
At another time Ogula said, "I think it better for us to move away from my
father's town, and put my house just a little way off." After the new house
was finished they moved to it, and lived by themselves. Ogula had business
elsewhere that compelled him to be often absent, returning at times in the
afternoons. Whenever Nkombe knew that Ogula was out, he would come and annoy
Ikāgu with solicitation to leave her husband and marry him. Ogula knew of
this, for he had a ngalo (a special fetich) that enabled him to know what
was going on elsewhere. The wife would say, "Ah, Nkombe! No, I know that you
are my husband's brother; but I do not want you!" Then, when it was time for
Ogula to return, Nkombe would go off. That went on for many days; Nkombe
visiting Ikāgu whenever he had opportunity, and the wife refusing him every
time. It went on so long that at last Ogula thought that he would speak to
his wife about it.
So he began to ask her, " Is everything all right? Has any one been
troubling you?" She answered, "No." He asked her again, and again she said,
"No." Thus it went on, - Nkombe coming; Ogula asking questions; and the
wife, unwilling to make trouble between the two brothers, denying. But one
day the trouble that Nkombe made the wife was so great that Ogula, with the
aid of his ngalo, thought surely she would acknowledge. But she did not; for
that day, when he came and called his wife into their bedroom, and asked
her, she only asserted weakly, "No trouble." Then he said, "Do you think I
do not know? You are a good wife to me. I know all that has passed between
you and Nkombe." And he added, "As Nkombe is making you all this trouble, I
will have to remove again far from my father's town, and go elsewhere." So
he went far away, and built a small village for himself and wife. They put
it in good order, and made the pathway wide and clean.
But in his going far from his father's town be had unknowingly come near to
another town that belonged to another Ra-Mborakinda, who also had great
power and many sons and daughters. One of the sons also was named Ogula,
just as old and as large as this first Ogula. One day this Ogula went out
hunting with his gun. He went far, leaving his town far away, going on and
on till be saw it was late in the day and that it was time to go back.
Just as be was about returning he came to a nice clean pathway, and he
wondered, "So here are people? This fine path! who cleans it? and where does
it lead to?" So be thought he would go and see for himself; and he started
on the path. He had not gone far before he came to the house of Ogula. There
he stood, admiring the house and grounds. "A fine house! a fine house!"
When Ogula saw Ogula 2d standing in the street, he invited him up into the
house. They asked each other a few questions, became acquainted, and made
friendship; and Ogula kept Ogula 2d for two days as his guest. Then Ogula 2d
said, "They may think me lost, in town, after these two days. Thanks for
your kindness, but I had better go." And he added, "Some day I will send for
you, and you will come to visit me, that I may show you hospitality."
Ogula 2d went back to his place. He had a sister who was a very troublesome
woman, assuming authority and giving orders like a man. Her name was Banga-
yi-baganlo-tani (Banga-of-five-faces). Though her father, the king, and her
brother were still living, she insisted on governing the town. When any one
displeased her, or she was vexed with any one, she would order that person
to lie down before a cannon and be shot to pieces. The father was wearied of
her annoyances, but did not know what to do with her.
As Ogula 2d had left word with Ogula that be would invite him on another
day, he did so. Ogula accepted; but as the invitation was only to himself,
he did not take his wife, but went by himself, and was welcomed and
entertained.
When it was late afternoon, he was about to go back, but Ogula 2d said, "You
were so kind to me; do not go back to-day. Stay with me." And Ogula
consented.
In asking Ogula to stay, Ogula 2d thought, "As his wife is not here, perhaps
he will want another woman. I have my sister here; but if I first offer her,
it will be a shame, for he has not asked for any one " [an actual native
African custom, to give a guest a temporary wife, as one of the usual
hospitalities. The custom is not resented by the women].
All this while Ogula had not seen the sister. When they were ready for the
evening meal, Ogula 2d thought it time to call his sister to see the guest.
She fixed herself up finely, clean, and with ornaments. She came and sat in
the house, and there were the usual salutations of "Mbolo!" "Ai, mbolo!" and
some conversation.
While they were talking, Banga had her face cast down with eyes to the
ground. And when she lifted her eyes to look at Ogula, her face changed.
From the time she came in till meal-time, she made a succession of these
changes of her face, thinking that Ogula would be surprised, and would
admire the changes, and expecting that he would ask her brother for her.
She waited and waited; Ogula saw all these five changes of her face, but was
not attracted. They went to their food, and ate and finished. And they
talked on till bedtime; but Ogula had said nothing of love. Banga was
annoyed and disappointed; she went to her bed piqued and with resentful
thoughts.
The next morning Ogula said it was time to go back to his wife. When he was
getting ready to go, Banga said to him, "Have you a wife?"
He answered, "Yes." She said, "I want her to come and visit me some day."
And Ogula agreed. He went, and returning to his house, told his wife that
Banga wanted to see her.
After Ogula was gone, Banga asked her brother about Ogula's wife. "Is she
pretty?" And he told her how finely the wife had looked. Banga was not
pleased at that, was jealous, and waited till Ikāgu should come that she
might see for herself. "I will see if she is more beautiful than I with my
five countenances." Subsequently Banga chose a day, and sent for Ikāgu. She
dressed for the journey, and Ogula, not being invited, took her only half-
way.
When Ogula's wife arrived, Banga saw that it was true that she was pretty,
and of graceful carriage in her walking, and she did not wonder that her
husband was charmed with her. But she hid her jealousy, and pretended to be
pleased with her visitor. Ogula's wife did not spend the night there; when
she thought it time to go, she said good-bye, and turned to leave.
When she had gone, Banga was planning for a contest with her. She said to
herself, "Now I see wky that man made me feel ashamed at his not asking for
my love, -because his wife is so beautiful. She shall see that I will have
her killed, and I shall have her husband."
So after a few days she sent word to Ogula's wife, "Prepare yourself for a
fight, and come and meet me at my fatber's house."
But the wife said to Ogula, "I have done nothing. What is the fight for?"
Nevertheless, she began to prepare a fighting dress, and before it was
finished another messenger came with word, "You are waited for."
So she said, "As it is not a call for peace, I had better put on a dress
that befits blood." So she dressed in red. After she was dressed she
started, and Ogula went with her, to hear what was the ground of the
challenge.
As soon, as they got to the town, they found Banga striding up and down the
street. Her cannon was already loaded, waiting to be fired. When Ogula
wanted to know what the "palaver" was, Banga said, "I do not want to talk
with you; I only want you to obey my orders."
But Ikāgu wanted to know what the trouble was, and began to ask, "What have
I done?" Banga only repeated, "I don't want any words from you; only, you
come and lie down in front of this cannon." Ikāgu obeyed, and lay down, and
Banga ordered her men to fire the cannon.
By this time Ogula, by the power of his ngalo, had changed the places of the
two women. When the cannon was fired, and the smoke had cleared away, the
people who stood by saw Ikāgu standing safe by her husband, and Banga lying
dead. All the assembled people began to wonder, "What is this? What is
this?"
So Banga's father called Ogula, and said, "Do not think I am displeased with
you at the death of my daughter; I too was wearied at her doings. So, as you
are justified, and Banga was wrong, it is no matter to be quarrelled about.
"
And Ogula 2d said to Ogula, "I am not vexed at you. You had done nothing.
She wanted to bring trouble on you, and it has come on herself. I have no
fight with you. We will still be friends. But do not live off in your forest
village by yourself; come you and your wife to live in this town."
So Ogula and his wife consented, and agreed to remove, and live with Ogula
2d. And thcy did so without further trouble.
VII. THE TWO BROTHERS.
Ra-Mborakinda has his great town, and his wives, and his children, and the
glory of his kingdoin. All his women had no children, except the loved head-
wife, Ngwe-nkonde (Mother of Queens), and the unloved Ngwe-vazya (Mother of
Skin-Disease). Each of these two had children, sons, at the same time. The
father gave them their names. Ngwenkonde's was Nkombe, and Ngwe-vazya's was
Ogula. Again these two women became mothers. This time both of them had
daughters. Ngwe-nkonde's was named Ngwanga, and Ngwe-vazya's was Ilāmbe. A
third time these two bore children, sons, on the same day. These two sons
grew up without names till they began to talk, for the father had delayed to
give them names. But one day he called them to announce to them their names.
What he had selected they refused, saying that they had already named
themselves. Ngwe-nkonde's child named himself Osongo, and Ngwe-vazya's
Obengi. And the father agreed.
These two children grew and loved each other very much. No one would have
thought that they belonged to different mothers, so great was the love they
had for each other. They were always seen together, and always ate at the
same place. When one happened to be out at mealtime, the other would not
eat, and would begin to cry till the absent one returned. Both were handsome
in form and feature.
When Ngwe-vazya's people beard about her nice-looking little boy, they sent
word to her, "We have heard about your children, but we have not seen you
for a long time. Come and visit us, and bring your youngest son, for we have
beard of him and want to see him."
So she went and asked permission of Ra-Mborakinda, saying that she wanted to
go and see her people. He was willing. Then she made herself ready to start.
As soon as Osongo knew that his brother Obengi was going away, be began to
cry at the thought of separation. He said, "I am not going to stay alone. I
have to go too, for I am not willing to be separated from my brother. And
Obengi said the same: " If Osongo does not go with us, then I will not go at
all." Then Ngwe-vazya thought to herself, "No, it will not,do for me to take
Osongo along with me, for his mother and I are not friendly." And she told
Osongo that he must stay. But both the boys persisted, "No, we both must
go." So Ngwe-vazya said, "Well, let it be so. I will take care of Osongo as
if he were my own son." And Ra-Mborakinda and Ngwe-nkonde were willing that
Osongo should go.
So they started and went; and when they reached the town of Ngwe-vazya's
family the people were very glad to receive them. She was very attentive to
both the boys, watching them wherever they went, for they were the beloved
sons of Ra-Mborakinda. She was there at her people's town about two months.
Then she told them that it was time to return home with the two boys. Her
people assented, and began to load her and the boys with parting presents.
They went back to Ra-Mborakinda's town, and there also their people were
glad to see them return, for the children had grown, and looked well. The
people, and even Ra-Mborakinda, praised Ngwe-vazya for having so well cared
for the children, especially the one who was not her own.
This made Ngwe-nkonde more jealous, because of the praise that Ra-Mborakinda
gave, and because of the boys' fine report of their visit and the abundance
of gifts with which Ngwe-vazya had returned. So Ngwe-nkonde made up her mind
that some day she would do the same, that she might receive similar praise.
She waited some time before she attempted to carry out her plan. By the time
that she got ready to ask leave to go the boys had grown to be lads. One day
she thought proper to ask Ra-Mborakinda permission to go visiting with her
son. Ra-Mborakinda was willing, and she commenced her preparations.
And again confusion came because of the two lads refusing to be separated.
Osongo refused to go alone. But afterward he, knowing of his mother's
jealous disposition, changed his mind, and said to Obengi, "No, I think you
better stay." But Obengi refused, saying, "No, I have to go too." Osongo
then told him the true reason for his objecting. "I said this because I know
that my mother is not like yours, So please stay; I will be gone only two
days, and will then come and meet you." But Obengi insisted, "If you go, I
go." And Ngwe-nkonde said, "Well, let it be so; I will take care of you
both."
So they went. When they reached the town of Ngwe-nkonde's family, the people
were glad to see them. She also was apparently kind and attentive to the
lads for the first two days. On the third day she began to think the care
was troublesome. "These lads, are big enough to take care of themselves like
men."
She did indeed feel kindly toward Obengi, liking his looks, and she said to
herself, "I think I will try to win his affections from his mother to
myself." She tried to do so, but the lad was not influenced by her. When she
noticed that he did not seem to care for her attentions, she was displeased,
began to hate him, and made up her mind to kill him.
All the days that the lads were there at the town they went out on
excursions to the forest, hunting animals. As soon as they came back they
would sit down together to chat and to eat sugar-cane [with African children
a substitute for candy].
Ngwe-nkonde knew of this habit. After she had decided to kill Obengi, on the
next day she had the sugar-cane ready for them. She rubbed poison on one of
the stalks, and arranged that that very piece should be the the first one
that Obengi would take. He had taken only two bites, and was chewing, when
he exclaimed, "Brother, I begin to feel giddy, and my eyes see double!
Please give me some water quickly!" Water was brought to him. He took a
little of it. Others, spectators, became excited, and began to dash water
over his face. But soon he fell down dead.
Then Ngwe-Nkonde exclaimed to herself, "So I've been here only five days,
and now the lad is dead. I don't care! Let him die!"
By this time Osongo had become greatly excited, crying out, and repeating
over and over, "My brother! Oh, my brother! Oh, my same age!" His mother
said to him, "To-morrow I will have him buried, and we will start back to
our town." Osongo replied to her, "That shall not be. He shall not be buried
here. We both came together, and though he is dead, we both will go back
together." The next morning Osongo said to his mother, "I know that you are
at the bottom of this trouble. You know something about it. You brought him.
And now he is dead. I charge you with killing him." She only replied, "I
know nothing of that. We will wait, and we shall know."
They began to get ready for the return journey, and some of the people said,
"Let a coffin be made, and the body be placed there." But Osongo said, "No,
I don't want that, I have a hammock, and he shall be carried in it." So they
prepared the hammock, and placed in it the dead body.
As to Ngwe-Nkonde, Osongo had her arrested, and held as a prisoner, with her
hands tied behind her, and he took a long whip with which to drive her. And
they started on their journey.
On the way Osongo was wailing a mourning-song, and cursing his mother, and
weeping, saying, "Oh, we both came together, and he is dead! Oh, my brother!
Oh, my same age! Obengi gone! Osongo left! Oh, the children of one father!
Osongo, who belongs to Ngwe-Nkonde, left, and Obengi, who belongs to Ngwe-
Vazya, gone!" And thus they went, be repeating these impromptu words of his
song, and weeping as he went. As they were going thus, while they were still
only half-way on their route, a man, Eserengila (tale-bearer), one of his
father's servants, was out in the forest hunting. He heard the song.
Listening, he said to himself, "Those words! What do they mean?" Listening
still, he thought he recognized Osongo's voice, and understood that one was
living and the other dead.
So he ran ahead to carry the news to the town before the corpse should
arrive there. When he reached the town, he first told his wife about it. She
advised him, "If that is so, don't go and tell this bad news to the king; a
servant like you should not be the bearer of ill news." But he still said,
"No, but I'm going to tell the father." His wife insisted, "Do not do it!
With those two beloved children, if the news be not true, the parents will
make trouble for you! " But Eserengila started to tell, and by the time he
had finished his story the company with the corpse were near enough for the
people of the town to hear all the words of Osongo's song of mourning.
Obengi's father and mother were so excited with grief that their people had
to bold them fast as if they were prisoners, to prevent them injuring
themselves. The funeral company all went up to the king's house, and laid
down the body of his son; and Osongo's mother, still tied, was led into the
house.
The townspeople were all excited, shouting and weeping. Some began to give
directions about the making of a fine coffin. But Osongo said, "No, I don't
want him to be put into a coffin yet, because when my brother was alive we
had many confidences and secrets, and now that he is dead, I have somewhat
of a work to do before he is buried. Let the corpse wait awhile." So be
asked them all to leave the corpse alone while he went out of the town for a
short time.
Then he went away to the village of Ra-Mārānge, and said to him, "I'm in
great trouble, and indeed I need your help." The prophet replied, "Child, I
am too old; I am not making medicine now. Go to Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya, and
repeat your story to him; he will help you."
Ra-Maranue showed him the way to Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya's place. He went,
and had not gone far when be found it. Going to the magician, Osongo said,
"I'm in trouble, and have come to you." As soon as he had said this, Ogula-
y'-impazya-vazya made his magic fire, and stepped into it. Osongo was
frightened, thinking, "I've come to this man, and he is about to kill
himself for me"; and he ran away. But he had not gone far, when he heard the
niagician's nkendo (a witchcraft bell) ringing, and his voice calling to
him, "If you have come for medicine, come back; but if for anything else,
then run away." So Osongo returned quickly, and found that the old magician
had emerged from his fire and was waiting for him. Osongo told his story of
his brother's death, and said be wanted direction what to do. Ogula-y'-
impazya-vazya gave him medicine for a certain purpose, and told him what to
do and bow to do it.
When Osongo came back with the medicine, he entered his father's house, into
the room where his brother's corpse was lying, and ordered every one to
leave him alone for a while. They all left the room. He closed the door, and
following the directions given him by Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya, be brought
Obengi to life again.
Now came a question what was to be done with Ngwe-nkonde, the attempted
murderess. It was demanded that her throat should be cut, and that her body,
weighted with stones, should be flung into the river. "For," said Osongo, "I
will not own such a mother; she is very bad. Obengi's mother shall be my
mother." It was decided so. And Ra-Mborakinda said to Ngwe-vazya, "You step
up to the queen's seat with your two sons" (meaning Osongo and Obengi).
And Ngwe-vazya became head-wife, and was very kind and attentive to both
sons.
And the matter ended.
VIII. JEKI AND HIS OZĀZI.
Ra-Mborakinda had his town where he lived with his wives, his sons, his
daughters, and his glory.
Lord Mborakinda had his loved head-wife, Ngwe-nkonde, and the unloved one,
Ngwe-lege. Both of these, with other of his wives, had sons and daughters.
Ngwe-nkonde's first son was Nkombe, and she had two others. Ngwe-lege also
had three sons, but the eldest of these, Jeki, was a thief. He stole
everything he came across, - food,:fish, and all. This became so notorious
that when people saw him approach their houses they would begin to hide
their food and goods, saying, "There comes that thief!"
Jeki's grandfather, the father of his mother, was dead. One night, in a
dream, that grandfather came to him, and said to him, "Jeki, my son, when
will you leave off that stealing, and try to work and do other things as
others do? To-morrow morning come to me early; I have a word to say to you."
Jeki replied, "But where do you live, and how can I know the way to that
town?" He answered, "You just start at your town entrance, and go on, and
you will see the way to my place before you reach it."
So the next morning Jeki, remembering his dream, said to his mother, "Please
fix me up some food." [He did not tell her that the purpose of the food was
not simply for his breakfast, but as an extra supply for a journey.] The
food that was prepared for him was five rolls made of boiled plantains
mashed into a kind of pudding called "nkima," and tied up with dried fish.
When these were ready, he put them inside his travelling-bag. Then be
dressed himself for his-journey.
His mother said, "Where are you going. He evaded, and said, "I will be back
again." So he went away.
After he had been gone a little while, be came to a fork of the road, and
without hesitation his feet took the one leading to the right. After going
on for a while he met two people named Isakiliya, fighting, whose forms were
like sticks. [These sticks were abambo, or ghosts. In all native folk-lore,
where spirits embody themselves, they take an absurd or singular form, that
they may test the amiability or severity, as the case may be, of human
beings with whom they may meet. They bless the kind, and curse the unkind.]
He went to them to make peace, and parted them; took out one of his rolls of
nkima and fish, gave to them, and passed on. They thanked him, and gave him
a blessing, "Peace be on you, both going and coming!" He went on and on, and
then he met two Antyā (eyes) fighting. In the same way as with the
Isakiliya, he went to them, separated them, gave them food, was blessed, and
went on his way.
Again he met in the same way two Kumu (stumps) fighting, and in the same way
he interfered between them, made peace, gave food, was blessed, and went on
his journey. He went on and on, and met with a fourth fight. This time it
was between two Poti (heads), and in the same way he made peace between
them, gave a gift, was blessed, and went on.
He journeyed and journeyed. And he came to a dividing of the way, and was
puzzled which to take. Suddenly an old woman appeared. He saluted her,
"Mbolo!" took out his last roll of nkima, and gave it to her. The old woman
thanked him, and asked him, "Where are you going?" He replied, "I'm on my
way to an old man, but am a little uncertain as to my way." She said, "Oh,
joy! I know him. I know the way. His name is Re-ve-nla-gā-li." She showed
him the way, pronounced a blessing on him, and he passed on. He had not gone
much farther when he came to the place.
hen the old grandfather saw him, he greeted him, "Have you come, son?" He
answered, "Yes."
"Well," said the grandfather, "I just live here by myself, and do my work
myself." And the old man made food for him. Then next day this grandfather
began to have a talk with Jeki. He rebuked him for his habit of stealing.
Jeki replied, "But, grandfather, what can I do? I have no work nor any
money. Even if I try to leave off stealing, I cannot. I do not know what
medicine will cause me to leave it off." Then said the grandfather, "Well,
child, I will make the medicine for you before you go back to your mother. "
So Jeki remained a few days with his grandfather, and then said, "I wish to
go back." The grandfather said, "Yes, but I have some little work for you to
do before you leave." So Jeki said, "Good! let me have the work."
The grandfather gave him an axe, and told him to go and cut firewood
sufficient to fill the small woodshed. Jeki did so, filling the shed in that
one day. The regular occupation of the old man was the twisting of ropes for
the lines of seines. So the next day he told Jeki to go and get the inner
barks, whose fibre was used in his rope-making. Jeki went to the forest,
gathered this material, and returned with it to the old man.
The next day the grandfather said to Jeki, "Now I am ready to start you off
on your journey." And he added, "As you gave as reasons for stealing that
you had neither money nor the means of getting it, I will provide that."
Then the old man called him, took him to a brook-side, and reminded him that
he had promised that he could make a medicine to cure him of his desire to
steal.
The grandfather began to cut open Jeki's chest, and took out his heart,
washed it all clean, and put it back again. Then they went back to the
grandfather's house. There be gave Jeki an ozāzi (wooden pestle), and said,
"Now, son, take this. This is your wealth. Everything that you wish, this
will bring to you. Hold it up, express your wish, and will get it. But there
is one orunda (taboo) connected with it: no one must pronounce the word
'salt' in your hearing. You may see and use salt, but may not speak its name
nor hear it spoken, for if you do things will turn out bad for you." "But,"
the old man added, "if that happens, I will now tell you what to do." And he
revealed to him a secret, and gave him full directions. When the grandfather
had finished, he led him a short distance on the way, and returned to his
house. He had not prepared any food for Jeki for the journey, for he with
the ozāzi would himself be able to supply all his own wishes.
Jeki goes on and on, and then exclaims doubtfully, "Ah, only this ozāzi is
to furnish me with everything! I'm getting hungry; so, soon I'll try its
power." He went on a little farther, and then decided that he would try
whether be could get anything by means of the ozāzi. So be held it up, and
said, "I wish a table of food to be spread for me, with two white men to eat
with me." Instantly there was seen a tent, and table covered with food, and
two white men sitting. He sat down with these two companions. After they had
eaten, be spoke to the ozāzi to cause the tent and its contents to
disappear. They did so. This proved for him the power of his ozāzi, and be
was glad, and went on his way satisfied.
Finally he reached his father's town, whose people saw him coming, but gave
him no welcome, except his mother, who was glad to see him. But most of the
people only said, "There! there is that thief coming again. We must begin to
hide our things. After Jeki's arrival, in a few days, the townspeople
noticed a change in him, and inquired of each other, "Has he been stealing,
or has he really changed?" for shortly after his return be had told his
mother and brothers all the news, and had warned the people of the town
about the orunda of "salt." In the course of a few days Jeki did many
wonderful things with his ozāzi. He wished for nice little premises of his
own with houses and conveniences, near his father's town, supplied with
servants and clothing and furniture. These appeared. Soon, by the wealth
that he possessed, be became master of the town, and ruled over the other
children of his father. He obtained from that same ozāzi, created by its
power, two wives, - Ngwanga and Ilāmbe, who were loving and obedient. He
also bought three other wives from the village, who were like servants to
the two chief ones. He confided his plans and everything to the two favored
ones who had come out of the ozāzi.
In the course of time he thought he would display his power before the
people, and for their benefit, by causing ships to come with wealth. So he
held up the ozāzi, and said, "I want to see a ship come full of
merchandise!"
Presently the townspeople began to shout, "A ship! a ship!" It anchored.
Jeki called his own brothers and half-brothers, and directed," You all get
ready and go out to the ship, and tell the captain that I will follow you."
They made ready, and went on board, and asked, "What goods have you
brought?" The captain told them, "Mostly cloth, and a few other things."
They informed him, "Soon the chief of the town will come." And they returned
ashore, and reported to Jeki what was on board. He made himself ready and
went, leaving word for them to follow soon and discharge the cargo. The ship
lay there a few days, and then sailed away. Then Jeki divided the goods
among his brothers and parents, keeping only a small share for himself.
Thus it went on: every few months Jeki ordering a ship to come with goods.
As usual, he would send his brothers first, they would bring a report, and
then he would go on board. Sometimes he would eat with the ship's company,
sometimes he would invite them ashore to eat in his own house.
All this time no one had broken the orunda of "salt." But, to prove things,
Jeki thought be would try his half-brothers, and see what were their real
feelings toward him. So the next time he caused ships to come with a cargo
of salt only. At sight of the ships there was the usual shout of "A ship! a
ship!" The brothers went aboard as usual, and found what the cargo was. The
half-brotbers returned ashore immediately, and began to shout when they
neared Jeki's house, "The ships are full of salt!" He heard the word, and
said to his mother and to his two chief wives, "Do you hear that?"
The half-brothers came close to him, and exclaimed, "Dāgula [Sir], the ships
are loaded with nothing but salt, salt, salt, and the captain is waiting for
you." Jeki asked again, as if he had not heard, "What is it the captains
have brought?" And they said, "Salt." So he said, "Let it be so. To-day is
the day. Good! You go and get ready, and I will get ready, and we shall all
go together."
Then the two chief wives looked very sorrowful, for they felt sure by his
look and tone that something bad was about to happen.
First be ordered a bath to be prepared for himself. It was made ready, and
be bathed, and went to dress himself in the other room, where his goods were
stored. When he had entered, be called his own two brothers and the two
wives, and closed the door. He began to examine a few of his boxes. Opening
a certain one, he said, "Of all my wealth, this was one of the first. Now I
am going to die. But as it is always the custom, a few days after the
funeral, to decide who shall be the successor and inheritor, when that day
arrives, come and open this particular box. Do not forget to take the cloth
for covering the throne of my successor from this box."
Inside of that box was a small casket, holding a large black silk
handkerchief. He kept the secret received from his grandfather, and did not
tell them what would happen when they should come to get cloth from the box.
They understood only that on the throne-day they were to open the big box
and the little casket it contained. Then he told them, "Now you may go out."
They went out. Jeki shut the door, and began to dress for the ships. But,
before dressing, he took out the black silk handkerchief from the small box,
and rubbed it over his entire body; and, carefully folding it, put it back
again in the casket and closed it. Then be was ready to start. And they all
went off to the ships, be with the ozāzi in hand. He, with his own brothers,
was in a boat following the boat of his half-brothers.
He raised a death-song, "Ilendo! Ilendo! give me skill for a dance! Ilendo!
Ilendo! give me skill for a play!" This he sang on the way, jumping from
boat to boat. He said be would go on board the ships, but ordered all his
brothers not to come. His plan was that they were to be only witnesses of
his death. He boarded one of the ships, and went over the deck singing and
dancing with that same Ilendo song. Then he jumped to the deck of the next
vessel.
As be did so, the first one sank instantly. On the second ship he sang and
danced, and jumped thence to the third, the second sinking as the first. On
the third ship be continued the song and dance; he remained on it a long
while, for he caused it to sink slowly. When the water reached the vessel's
deck, the brothers in the boats were looking on with fear. His own brothers
began to cry, seeing the ship sinking, for they knew that Jeki would die
with it. When it sank, the boats went ashore wailing, and took the news to
the town.
But the half-brothers were not really mourning; they were planning the
division of Jeki's property. All the town held the kwedi (mourning); but
after the fifth day the half-brothers told their father that it was time for
the exaltation of a successor to Jeki, the ceremony of ampenda (glories).
Ngwe-nkonde's first-born son, Nkombe, said, "I will be the first to stand on
the throne, and my two brothers will be next." Jeki's two brothers refused
to have anything to say about the division. They determined they would
remain quiet and see what would be done. And the two wives of Jeki said the
same.
When the half-brothers came to the house of mourning, they began to discuss
which of these two women they would inherit. Then one of the two wives said,
"Oh, Ngwanga, we must not forget what Jeki told us about the box, now that
the people are fixing for the ampenda!"
So the two brothers of Jeki and the two women went inside the room, shut the
door, and began to open the big box to take out the little casket. By this
time the people outside had everything ready for the ceremony of the
ampenda. The two women now opened the casket, took out the black
handkerchief, and unfolded it. And Jeki stood in the middle of the room,
with his ozāzi in his hand. Their surprise was great; their joy extreme. In
their joy they ran to embrace him.
The people outside were very busy with their arrangements. Nkombe already
had taken the throne, having painted his face with the little white mark of
rule, and given orders to have the signal-drum beaten; and the crowd began
to dance and sing to his praise.
Jeki sent his youngest brother, Oraniga (last-born), saying, "Just go
privately and tell my father about me, that I have come to life. And I want
him to have the whole town swept, and to lay bars of iron along the streets
for me to step on from this house to his. Say also that Ntyege (monkey) must
continue his firing of guns and cannon; then I will come and meet my
father."
Oraniga did so; and the father said, "Good! " and Oraniga returned. The
father gave the desired orders about the sweeping and the iron bars and the
firing of cannon; but the people at the throne-house did not know of all
this.
Then Jeki and his two wives and two brothers dressed themselves finely to
walk to the father's house, and marched in procession through the street. A
few of the people saw them, wondered, and asked the drums to stop,
exclaiming, "Where did they come from?" The procession went on to the
father's house, and Ntyege kept on with the cannon firing.
On reaching his father's house, Jeki told him he had something to say, and
the father ordered the drum to cease. All the people were summoned to the
father's house to hear Jeki's words. He said, "Father, I know that I am your
son, and Nkombe is your son. You, all know what Nkombe has done, for he was
at the bottom of this matter; so now choose between him and me. If you love
him more, I will go far away and stay by myself; but if you love me, Nkombe
must be removed from this town."
So the father asked the opinion of others. (For himself, he wanted to have
Jeki.) Nkombe's own brothers said he ought to be killed, "for he is not so
good to us as Jeki was." So they bound Nkombe, and tied a stone about his
neck, and drowned him in the sea.
And everything went on well, Jeki governing, and providing for the town.
GLOSSARY
A.
Abuna, abundance.
Aganlo, children of mixed mortal and fairy birth.
Akazya, a poisonous tree.
Amie, do not know.
Anlingo, water.
Antā (sing. intyā), eyes.
Anyambe, the Divine Name.
Aweme, yourself.
Ayenwe, unseen.
B.
Bābākā, consent thou.
Behu, kitchen garden.
Benda, a kind of rat.
Biań, medicine.
Bobābu; soft.
Bohamba, Boka Bokadi, Bokuda, a certain medicinal tree.
Bolondo, a poisonous tree.
Bongām, a certain medicinal tree.
Botombaka, passing away.
Buhwa, day.
Bwanga, medicine.
D.
Dāgula, Mr., a title of respect.
Diba, marriage.
Diyā, the hearth; a household.
Diyaka, to live.
E.
Ebābi, a male love philtre.
Egona, a small antelope.horn.
Ehongo, a cornucopia.
Ekongi, a guardian-spirit fetich.
Ekope, a girdle.
Elāmbā, a certain medicinal tree.
Elinga, a basket.
Etomba, tribe.
Evove, harlot.
Ewiria, words of hidden meaning.
F.
Fufu, mashed, boiled ripe plantains.
G.
Go, to, in, at.
Greegree (gria-gris), fetich amulet.
Gumbo, okra.
Gwandere, a medicine for worms.
H.
Haye, will not do.
Hume, a certain fish.
I
lbambo (pl. abambo), ghosts.
Ibātā, a blessing.
Iga, the forest.
Iguga, woe.
Iheli, a gazelle.
Ijawe (pl. majawe), blood relative.
Ikaka (pl. makaka), family name.
Ilala, an arch; a stairway.
Ilina (pl. malina), soul.
Ina, my mother.
Ilina (pl. malinla), soul.
Injenji, a certain leaf; fault
Isakiliya, kindling-wood.
Isiki (pl. asiki), a dwarf changeling.
Itaka, a kitchen hanging-shelf.
Itala, a view.
Ivaha, a wish.
Ivenda. (pl. ampenda), glory.
Iyele, a female love philtre.
J.
Ja, of.
Jaka, to beget.
Joba, the sun.
Jomba, meat cooked in a bundle of plantain leaves.
Juju, an amulet.
K
Kā, and you.
Kasa, a lash.
Keva, to surpass.
Kilinga, a kind of bird.
Kimbwa-mbenje, native bark-cloth.
Kna, a kind of bird.
Knakna, a large kind of bird.
Koka, a large kind of bird.
Kombo, a superstitious ejaculation.
Konde, queen.
Kota, a certain tree.
Kulu, a kind of spirit.
Kumu, a stump.
Kwedi, time of mourning.
L.
Lale, my father.
M.
Mabili, an east-wind fetich.
Mba, not I.
Mbenda, ground-nut.
Mbi, I.
Mbinde, a wild goat.
Mbolo, gray hairs; a salutation.
Mbulu, a wild dog.
Mbumbu, rainbow.
Mbundu, poison ordeal.
Mbwa (pl. imbwa), dog.
Mbwaye, a poison test.
Mehole, ripe plantains.
Miba, water.
Mie, me.
Monda, witchcraft medicine.
Mondi (pl. myondi), a class of spirits.
Mpazya, skin disease.
Mulimate, a small horn for cupping.
Musimo, spirits of the dead.
Muskwa, a medicinal brush.
Mutira, a medicinal stick.
Mvia, a kind of bird.
Mwana, a child.
Mwanga, a plantation.
N.
Na, with.
Ndabo, house.
Ndembe, young.
Nduma, a kind of snake.
Ngalo, a guardian- spirit charm.
Ngāma, a water plant.
Ngāndā, gourd seeds.
Ngānde, moon.
Ngofu, an iron fetich bracelet.
Ngunye, a flying-squirrel.
Nguwu, hippopotamus.
Ngwe, mother.
Njabi, a wild oily fruit.
Njegā, leopard.
Nkālā, a large snail.
Nkānjā, a marriage dance.
Nkendo, a magician's bell.
Nkinda (pl. sinkinda), a class of spirits.
Nsānā, Sunday.
Nsinsim, a shadow.
Ntori, a large forest rat.
Nyege, a monkey.
Nungwa, open thou.
Nunja, shut thou.
Nyamba, a scarf slung over the right shoulder, in which to carry a babe.
Nyemba, witchcraft.
Nyolo, body.
O.
Odika, kernel of the wild mango.
Oganga, doctor.
Ogendā, a journey.
Ogwerina, rear of a house.
Okove, a powerful fetich.
Okume, African mahogany tree.
Okundu, a kind of fetich for trading.
Olāgā (pl. ilāgā), a class of spirits.
Olako, a camping place.
Ombwiri (pl. awiri), a class of spirits.
Ompunga, wind.
Orala, a hanging shelf over a fire place.
Oraniga, last-born.
Orāwo, insult.
Orega, the Njembe secret society drum.
Orunda, a prohibition; taboo.
Osenge, a cleared place in the forest.
Ovāvi (pl. ivāvi), messenger.
Owavi (pl. sijavi), a leaf.
Ozyāzi, a pestle.
Ozyoto, a cornucopia.
P.
Pala, my father.
Pavo, a knife.
Peke, ever.
R.
Rera, my father.
S.
Saba, Sabali, an oath.
Sale, hail!
T.
Tamba, the womb.
Tube, a certain leaf.
Tuwaka, bless; spit
U.
Udinge, a great person.
Ukuku (pl. mekuku), spirit; secret society.
Ukwala, a machete.
Untyanya, a medicinal bark.
Unyongo, a medicine tree.
Upuma, a period of six months.
Utodu, old.
Uvengwa, a phantom.
V.
Veya, fire.
Y.
Yāginla, imperative, hear thou.
Yākā, a family fetich.