Making Rain.
Making Rain.
All these circumstances irritated the rain maker very much, and he complained that secret rogues were disobeying his proclamations. When urged to make repeated trials, he would reply, “You only give me sheep and goats to kill, therefore I can only make goat rain; give me fat slaughter oxen, and I shall let you see ox rain.”
One night a small cloud passed over, and a single flash of lightning, from which a heavy peal of thunder burst, struck a tree in the town. Next day the rain maker and a number of people assembled to perform the usual ceremony on such an event. The stricken tree was ascended, and roots and ropes of grass were bound round different parts of the trunk. When these bandages were made, the conjuror deposited some of his nostrums, and got quantities of water handed up, which he poured with great solemnity on the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude shouted. The tree was now hewn down, dragged out of the town and burned to ashes. Soon after the rain maker got large bowls of water, with which was mixed an infusion of bulbs. All the men of the town were then made to pass before him, when he sprinkled each person with a zebra’s tail dipped in water.
Finding that this did not produce the desired effect, the impostor had recourse to another stratagem. He well knew that baboons were not very easily caught amongst rocky glens and shelving precipices, and therefore, in order to gain time, he informed the men that to make rain he must have a baboon. Moreover, that not a hair on its body was to be wanting; in short the animal should be free from blemish. After a long and severe pursuit, and with bodies much lacerated, a band of chosen runners succeeded in capturing a young baboon, which they brought back triumphantly and exultingly. On seeing the animal, the rogue put on a countenance exhibiting the most intense sorrow, exclaiming, “My heart is rent in pieces! I am dumb with grief!” pointing at the same time to the ear of the baboon that was slightly scratched, and the tail, which had lost some hair. He added, “Did I not tell you I could not bring rain if there was one hair wanting?”
He had often said that if they could procure him the heart of a lion he would show them he could make rain so abundant, that a man might think himself well off to be under shelter, as when it fell it might sweep whole towns away. He had discovered that the clouds required strong medicines, and that a lion’s heart would do the business. To obtain this the rain maker well knew was no joke. One day it was announced that a lion had attacked one of the cattle out-posts, not far from the town, and a party set off for the twofold purpose of getting a key to the clouds and disposing of a dangerous enemy. The orders were imperative, whatever the consequences might be. Fortunately the lion was shot dead by a man armed with a gun. Greatly elated by their success, they forthwithreturned with their prize, singing the conqueror’s song in full chorus. The rain maker at once set about preparing his medicines, kindled his fires, and, standing on the top of a hill, he stretched forth his hands, beckoning to the clouds to draw near, occasionally shaking his spear and threatening them with his ire, should they disobey his commands. The populace believed all this and wondered the rain would not fall.
Having discovered that a corpse which had been put into the ground some weeks before had not received enough water at its burial, and knowing the aversion of the Bechuanas to the dead body, he ordered the corpse to be taken up, washed, and re-interred. Contrary to his expectation, and horrible as the ceremony must have been, it was performed. Still the heavens remained inexorable.
Having exhausted his skill and ingenuity, the impostor began to be sorely puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame. Like all of his profession, he was a subtle fellow, in the habit of studying human nature, affable, acute, and exhibiting a dignity of mien, with an ample share of self-complacency which he could not hide. Hitherto he had studiously avoided giving the least offence to the missionaries, whom he found were men of peace who would not quarrel. He frequently condescended to visit them, and in the course of conversation would often give a feeble assent to their opinions as to the sources of that element over which he pretended to have sovereign control. However, finding all his wiles unavailing to produce the desired result, and, notwithstanding the many proofs of kindness he had received from the missionaries, he began to hint that the reverend gentlemen were the cause of the obstinacy of the clouds. One day it was discovered that the rain had been prevented by Mr. Moffat bringing a bag of salt with him from a journey that he had undertaken to Griqua town. But finding on examination that the reported salt was only white clay or chalk, the natives could not help laughing at their own credulity.
From insinuations he proceeded to open accusations. After having kept himself secluded for a fortnight, he one day appeared in the public fold and proclaimed that he had at last discovered the cause of the drought. After keeping the audience in suspense for a short time, he suddenly broke forth: “Do you not see,” he asked, “when the clouds cover us, that Hamilton and Moffat look at them? Their white faces scare them away, and you cannot expect rain so long as they are in the country.” This was a home stroke. The people became impatient, and poured forththeir curses against the poor missionaries as the cause of all their sorrows. The bell which was rung for public worship, they said, frightened the vapours; the prayers even came in for a share of the blame. “Don’t you,” said the chief one day rather fiercely to Mr. Moffat, “bow down in your houses and pray, and talk to something bad in the ground?”
But to shorten a long story, after exposing the missionaries to much risk and danger by his insinuations and accusations, the tables were turned in their favour. The rain-maker now was suspected, his gross impositions were unveiled, and he was about to pay the penalty of death,—the well-merited reward for his scandalous conduct, when Mr. Moffat generously interfered, and through his presence of mind and humanity succeeded in saving the life of one who had so often threatened his own, and who would not have scrupled to take it could he thereby have served his purpose. Death, however, soon overtook him, for he was eventually murdered amongst the Bauangketsi nation.
There is scarcely a savage country on the face of the earth but has its professional rain-makers; Figi has; and these, like other players of a game of chance, occasionally win in a manner that seems surprising even to an educated European.
During Mr. Seeman’s stay in Figi, one of the days was rainy, preventing him from making an excursion. On expressing his regret to that effect, a man was brought who may be called the clerk of the weather. He professed to exercise a direct meteorological influence, and said that, by burning certain leaves and offering prayers only known to himself, he could make the sun shine or rain come down; and that he was willing to exercise his influence on Mr. Seeman’s behalf if paid handsomely. He was told that there was no objection to giving him a butcher’s knife if he could make fine weather until the travellers returned to the coast; but if he failed to do so, he must give something for the disappointment. He was perfectly willing to risk the chance of getting the knife, but would not hear of a forfeit in case of failure; however, he left to catch eels. “When returning,” says Mr. Seeman, “the clouds had dispersed, and the sun was shining brilliantly, and he did not fail to inform me that he had ‘been and done it.’ I must farther do him the justice to say, that I did not experience any bad weather until I fairly reached the coast; and that no sooner had I set my foot in Navua than rain came down in regular torrents. This man has probably been a close observer of the weather,and discovered those delicate local indications of a coming change with which people in all countries living much in the open air are familiar; and he very likely does not commence operations until he is pretty sure of success.”
This was not the only singular ceremony witnessed by the gentleman just quoted, and who is the most recent of Figian travellers. While out one day he and his friends met a company of natives, and were struck with the fact that all the young lads were in a state of absolute nudity; and, on inquiry, learned that preparations were being made to celebrate the introduction of Kurudwadua’s eldest son into manhood; and that until then neither the young chieftain nor his playmates could assume the scanty clothing peculiar to the Figians. Suvana, a rebellious town, consisting of about five hundred people, was destined to be sacrificed on the occasion. When the preparations for the feast were concluded, the day for the ceremony appointed, Kurudwadua and his warriors were to make a rush upon the town and club the inhabitants indiscriminately. The bodies were to be piled into one heap, and on the top of all a living slave would lie on his back. The young chief would then mount the horrid scaffold, and standing upright on the chest of the slave, and holding in his uplifted hands an immense club or gun, the priests would invoke their gods, and commit the future warrior to their especial protection, praying he may kill all the enemies of the tribe, and never be beaten in battle; a cheer and a shout from the assembled multitude concluding the prayer. Two uncles of the boy were then to ascend the human pile, and to invest him with the malo or girdle of snow whitetapa; the multitude again calling on the deities to make him a great conqueror, and a terror to all who breathe enmity to Navua. Themalofor the occasion would be, perhaps, two hundred yards long, and six or eight inches wide. When wound round the body the lad would hardly be perceivable, and no one but an uncle can divest him of it.
“We proposed,” says Mr. Seeman, “to the chief that we should be allowed to invest his son with themalo, which he at first refused, but to which he consented after deliberation with his people. At the appointed hour the multitude collected in the great strangers’ house orbure ni sa. The lad stood upright in the midst of the assembly guiltless of clothing, and holding a gun over his head. The consul and I approached, and in due form wrapped him up in thirty yards of Manchester print, the priest and people chanting songs and invoking the protection of their gods. Ashort address from the consul succeeded, stirring the lad to nobler efforts for his tribe than his ancestors had known, and pointing to the path of fame that civilization opened to him. The ceremony concluded by drinking kara, and chanting historical reminiscences of the lad’s ancestors; and thus we saved the lives of five hundred men. During the whole of this ceremony the old chief was much affected, and a few tears might be seen stealing down his cheeks; soon, however, cheering up, he gave us a full account of the time when he came of age, and the number of people that were slain to celebrate the occasion.”
To return, however, to the rain-making business. Lucky is it for the dim-minded heathen that these false priests of his have not the advantage of studying for their profession either in England or America; if it were so, heaven only knows the awful extent to which they would be bamboozled. Rain-makers especially would have a fine time of it, at least, if they were all as clever as Mr. Petherick, who, in his “Egypt and the Soudan,” unblushingly narrates how he “Barnumized” the Africans as a rain-maker.
“The rainy season was now approaching, and still no tidings of my men, and the natives daily continued to surround my encampment, and attempted, sometimes by the report of the murder of my men, and at others by night attacks upon ourselves when in the darkness we could not see them, to induce us to return to our boats and abandon our property. This they more strenuously insisted on, as they were convinced that as long as we remained in the country the rain would not fall, and both themselves and their cattle would be reduced to starvation. This idea being seriously entertained, I one day plainly stated to the chief and several of the principal men the absurdity of their assertions, and endeavoured to explain that God alone,—who had created heaven and earth,—could exercise any power over the elements. The attention with which my discourse was received induced me to prolong it, but to my discomfiture, at its close, it was treated as a capital joke, and only convinced them the more that I endeavoured to conceal from them my own powers. Finding no relief from their increasing persecutions, I at length was reduced to a ruse; and after a reference to an antiquatedWeekly Times, I told them that the Supreme Being whose it was to afford them the so much-required rains, withheld them in consequence of their inhospitality towards myself; this, although it had the effect of procuring increased temporary supplies, could not induce them to furnish me with porters. Endless were the straitsand absurdities to which I had recourse in order to obtain a respite, but the one creating the greatest amusement to myself and my followers was the following. A deputation of several hundred men, headed by a subchief, from their kraals some miles distant, in the most peremptory manner demanded rain or my immediate departure; the latter they were determined at whatever sacrifice to enforce. Placing my men under arms in an enclosure, and with a pair of revolver pistols at my waist, and a first-rate Dean and Adams’ revolver rifle in my hand, I went into the midst of them, and seated myself in the centre of them, opposite to the subchief, a man fully six feet six inches high, and proportionably well made. I stated that no intimidation could produce rain, and as to compelling me to withdraw, I defied them; that if I liked, with one single discharge of my gun, I could destroy the whole tribe and their cattle in an instant; but that with regard to rain, I would consult my oracle, and invited them to appear before me to-morrow, upon which, with as much dignity as I could command, I withdrew. Various were the feelings of the savages. Some expressed a wish to comply with my desire, whilst others showed an inclination to fall upon me. Although I was convinced that the chief, Tschol, secretly encouraged his men, he in the present instance made a demonstration in my favour; he threatened them with a curse unless they dispersed. Some device now became necessary to obtain a further respite for the desired rains; and setting my wits to work, I hit upon an expedient which I at once put in execution. Despatching some men to catch half-a-dozen large flies, bearing some resemblance to a horse-fly, but much larger, which infested a temporary shed where my donkey had been kept; the men, confident in the success of anything I undertook, set about the task with a will. In the course of the afternoon they were fortunately obtained, and were consigned to an empty bottle. At the appointed time my persecutors did not fail to appear, and shaking a little flower over my flies, I sallied out amongst them, bottle in hand. Referring to their wants, I treated them to a long harangue, touching the depredations which I had learnt in conversation with the chief they had committed upon the cattle of neighbouring tribes, and assassinations of unoffending men who had fallen into their power; also to several abstractions of girls from poor unprotected families of their own tribe, without the payment of the customary dowry in cattle, and dwelt upon the impossibility of their obtaining rain until restitution and satisfaction were made. They unanimously denied the charges; when I told them that it was nothing lessthan I had expected, but that I was furnished with the means of satisfying myself of the veracity of their assertions. The proof would consist in their restoring to me the flies, which I intended to liberate from the bottle I held. In the event of their succeeding, they should be rewarded with abundant rain; but if one fly escaped, it was a sign of their guilt, and they would be punished with a continuation of drought until restitution was made; therefore it was in their own power to procure rain or otherwise. Hundreds of clubs and lances were poised high in the air, amidst loud shouts of ‘Let them go! let them go! let them go!’ With a prayer for the safety of my flies, I held up the bottle, and smashing it against the barrel of my rifle, I had the satisfaction of seeing the flies in the enjoyment of their liberty. Man, woman, and child gave chase in hot pursuit, and the delight of my men at the success of the stratagem may be imagined. It was not until after the sun had set that the crest-fallen stragglers returned, their success having been limited to the capture of two of the flies, though several spurious ones, easily detected by the absence of the distinctive flour badge, were produced. A long consultation ensued, and in the firm belief of my oracle they determined to adopt measures for the carrying out of its requirements, but with a threat that if the promised rain did not follow, I should incur their vengeance. Aware of the difficulties in store for them from their unwillingness to part with cattle under any circumstances, I promised myself a long cessation from their molestations. I was not disappointed.”
Further still into the country, and still no sign of amendment; not that it should be expected, as in this region—Equatorial Africa—the Christian crusader never yet penetrated, unless indeed we so regard Mr. Du Chaillu, who certainly appears to have done his best by example, at least, to convince the barbarous people among whom he found himself of the advantages of Christianity. Here is a sample of one of many Sabbaths spent by the renowned gorilla hunter amongst the savages here abiding.
“The next day was Sunday, and I remained quietly in my house reading the Scriptures, and thankful to have a day of rest and reflection. My hunters could scarcely be prevailed upon not to hunt; they declared that Sunday might do for white people, but the blacks had nothing to do with it. Indeed, when customs thus come in contact, the only answer the negro has to make—and it applies to everything—is, that the God who made the whites is not the God who made the blacks.
“Then the king and a good many of his people gathered about me, andwe astonished each other with our talk. I told them that their fetishes and greegrees were of no use and had no power, and that it was absurd to expect anything of a mere wooden idol that a man had made, and could burn up. Also that there was no such a thing as witchcraft, and that it was very wrong to kill people who were accused of it; that there was only one God, whom the whites and blacks must alike love and depend on. All this elicited only grunts of surprise and incredulity.
“Then the king took up the conversation, and remarked that we white men were much favoured by our God, who was so kind as to send guns and powder from heaven.
“Whereupon the king’s brother remarked that it must be very fine to have rivers of alougou (rum) flowing through our country all the year round, and that he would like to live on the banks of such a river.
“Hereupon I said that we made our own guns, which no one present seemed to believe; and that there were no rivers of rum, which seemed a disappointment to several.”
It would appear that our traveller betrayed at least as much curiosity respecting the singular rites and superstitions of these Equatorial African heathens as they evinced in the matter of Christianity.
“One day the women began their peculiar worship of Njambai, which it seems is their good spirit: and it is remarkable that all the Bakalai clans and all the females of tribes I have met during my journeys, worship or venerate a spirit with this same name. Near the seashore it is pronounced Njembai, but it is evidently the same.
“This worship of the women is a kind of mystery, no men being admitted to the ceremonies, which are carried on in a house very carefully closed. This house was covered with dry palm and banana leaves, and had not even a door open to the street. To make all close, it was set against two other houses, and the entrance was through one of these. Quengueza and Mbango warned me not to go near this place, as not even they were permitted so much as to take a look. All the women of the village painted their faces and bodies, beat drums, marched about the town, and from time to time entered the idol house, where they danced all one night, and made a more outrageous noise than even the men had made before. They also presented several antelopes to the goddess, and on the 4th, all but a few went off into the woods to sing to Njambai.
“I noticed that half-a-dozen remained, and in the course of the morning entered the Njambai house, where they stayed in great silence. Now mycuriosity, which had been greatly excited to know what took place in this secret worship, finally overcame me. I determined to see. Walking several times up and down the street past the house to allay suspicion, I at last suddenly pushed aside some of the leaves, and stuck my head through the wall. For a moment I could distinguish nothing in the darkness. Then I beheld three perfectly naked old hags sitting on the clay floor, with an immense bundle of greegrees before them, which they seemed to be silently adoring.
Du Chaillu’s Peep into a Heathen Temple.
Du Chaillu’s Peep into a Heathen Temple.
“When they saw me they at once set up a hideous howl of rage, and rushed out to call their companions from the bush; in a few minutes these came hurrying in, crying and lamenting, rushing towards me with gestures of anger, and threatening me for my offence. I quickly reached my house, and seizing my gun in one hand and a revolver in the other, told them I would shoot the first one that came inside my door. The house was surrounded by above three hundred infuriated women, every one shouting out curses at me, but the sight of my revolver kept them back. They adjourned presently for the Njambai house, and from there sent a deputation of the men, who were to inform me that I must pay for the palaver I had made.
“This I peremptorily refused to do, telling Quengueza and Mbango that I was there a stranger, and must be allowed to do as I pleased, as theirrules were nothing to me, who was a white man and did not believe in their idols. In truth, if I had once paid for such a trangression as this, there would have been an end of all travelling for me, as I often broke through their absurd rules without knowing it, and my only course was to declare myself irresponsible.
“However, the women would not give up, but threatened vengeance, not only on me, but on all the men of the town; and as I positively refused to pay anything, it was at last, to my great surprise, determined by Mbango and his male subjects, that they would make up from their own possessions such a sacrifice as the women demanded of me. Accordingly Mbango contributed ten fathoms of native cloth, and the men came one by one and put their offerings on the ground; some plates, some knives, some mugs, some beads, some mats, and various other articles. Mbango came again, and asked if I too would not contribute something, but I refused. In fact, I dared not set such a precedent. So when all had given what they could, the whole amount was taken to the ireful women, to whom Mbango said that I was his and his men’s guest, and that they could not ask me to pay in such a matter, therefore they paid the demand themselves. With this the women were satisfied, and there the quarrel ended. Of course I could not make any further investigations into their mysteries. The Njambai feast lasts about two weeks. I could learn very little about the spirit which they call by this name. Their own ideas are quite vague. They know only that it protects the women against their male enemies, avenges their wrongs, and serves them in various ways, if they please it.”
Before Chaillu left Goumbi a grand effort was made by the people to ascertain the cause of their king’s sufferings. Quengueza had sent word to his people to consult Ilogo, a spirit said to live in the moon. The rites were very curious. To consult Ilogo, the time must be near full moon. Early in the evening the women of the town assembled in front of Quengueza’s house and sang songs to and in praise of the moon. Meantime a woman was seated in the centre of the circle of singers, who sung with them and looked constantly towards the moon. She was to be inspired by the spirit and to utter prophecies.
Two women made trial of this post without success. At last came a third, a little woman, wiry and nervous. When she seated herself, the singing was redoubled in fury—the excitement of the people had had time to become intense; the drums beat, the outsiders shouted madly. Presentlythe woman who, singing violently, had looked constantly towards the moon, began to tremble. Her nerves twitched, her face was contorted, her muscles swelled, and at last her limbs straightened out, and she lay extended on the ground insensible.
The excitement was now intense and the noise horrible. The songs to Ilogo were not for a moment discontinued. The words were little varied, and were to this purport:
“Ilogo, we ask thee,Tell who has bewitched the king!Ilogo, we ask thee,What shall we do to cure the king?The forests are thine, Ilogo!The rivers are thine, Ilogo!The moon is thine.O moon! O moon! O moon!Thou art the house of Ilogo.Shall the king die, O Ilogo?O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!”
“Ilogo, we ask thee,Tell who has bewitched the king!Ilogo, we ask thee,What shall we do to cure the king?The forests are thine, Ilogo!The rivers are thine, Ilogo!The moon is thine.O moon! O moon! O moon!Thou art the house of Ilogo.Shall the king die, O Ilogo?O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!”
“Ilogo, we ask thee,Tell who has bewitched the king!Ilogo, we ask thee,What shall we do to cure the king?The forests are thine, Ilogo!The rivers are thine, Ilogo!The moon is thine.O moon! O moon! O moon!Thou art the house of Ilogo.Shall the king die, O Ilogo?O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!”
“Ilogo, we ask thee,
Tell who has bewitched the king!
Ilogo, we ask thee,
What shall we do to cure the king?
The forests are thine, Ilogo!
The rivers are thine, Ilogo!
The moon is thine.
O moon! O moon! O moon!
Thou art the house of Ilogo.
Shall the king die, O Ilogo?
O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!”
These words were repeated again and again with little variation. The woman who lay for some time as she had fallen was then supposed to be able to see things in the world of Ilogo, and was brought to after half an hour’s insensibility; she looked very much prostrated. She averred that she had seen Ilogo, that he had told her Quengueza was not bewitched.
Chaillu heard one day by accident that a man had been apprehended on a charge of causing the death of one of the chief men of the village, and went to Dayoko, the king, and asked about it. He said yes, the man was to be killed; that he was a notorious wizard, and had done much harm.
Chaillu begged to see this terrible being, and was taken to a rough hut, within which sat an old, old man, with wool white as snow, wrinkled face, bowed form, and shrunken limbs. His hands were tied behind him, and his feet were placed in a rude kind of stocks. This was the great wizard. Several lazy negroes stood guard over him, and from time to time insulted him with opprobrious epithets and blows, to which the poor old wretch submitted in silence. He was evidently in his dotage.
When asked if he had no friends, no relatives, no son or daughter or wife to take care of him, he said sadly, “No one.”
Now here was the secret of this persecution. They were tired of taking care of the helpless old man, who had lived too long, and a charge ofwitchcraft by the greegree man was a convenient pretext for putting him out of the way.
The Wizard in the Stocks.
The Wizard in the Stocks.
Chaillu went, however, to Dayoko, and argued the case with him, and tried to explain the absurdity of charging a harmless old man with supernatural powers; told him that God did not permit witches to exist, and dually made an offer to buy the old wretch, offering to give some pounds of tobacco, one or two coats, and some looking-glasses for him, goods which would have bought an able-bodied slave.
Dayoko replied that for his part he would be glad to save him, but that the people must decide; that they were much excited against him, but that he would, to please Chaillu, try to save his life.
During the night following our travellers heard singing all over the town all night, and a great uproar. Evidently they were preparing themselvesfor the murder. Even these savages cannot kill in cold blood, but work themselves into a frenzy of excitement first, and then rush off to do the bloody deed.
Early in the morning the people gathered together with the fetish man, the rascal who was at the bottom of the murder, in their midst. His bloodshot eyes glared in savage excitement as he went round from man to man getting the votes to decide whether the old man should die.
In his hands he held a bundle of herbs, with which he sprinkled three times those to whom he spoke. Meantime a man was stationed on the top of a high tree, whence he shouted from time to time in a loud voice, “Jocoo! Jocoo!” at the same time shaking the tree strongly.
Jocoo is devil among the Mbousha, and the business of this man was to keep away the evil spirit, and to give notice to the fetish-man of his approach.
At last the sad vote was taken. It was declared that the old man was a most malignant wizard, that he had already killed a number of people, that he was minded to kill many more, and that he must die. No one would tell Chaillu how he was to be killed, and they proposed to defer the execution till his departure. The whole scene had considerably agitated Chaillu, and he was willing to be spared the end. Tired and sick at heart, Chaillu lay down on his bed about noon to rest and compose his spirits a little. After a while he saw a man pass his window, almost like a flash, and after him a horde of silent but infuriated men. They ran towards the river. Then in a little while was heard a couple of sharp piercing cries, as of a man in great agony, and then all was still as death. Chaillu got up, guessing the rascals had killed the poor old man, and turning his steps toward the river, was met by the crowd returning, every man armed with axe, knife, cutlass, or spear, and these weapons and their own hands and arms and bodies all sprinkled with the blood of their victim. In their frenzy they had tied the poor wizard to a log near the river bank, and then deliberately hacked him into many pieces. They finished by splitting open his skull and scattering the brains in the water. Then they returned; and to see their behaviour, it would have seemed as though the country had just been delivered from a great curse.
By night the men, whose faces for two days had filled Chaillu with loathing and horror, so bloodthirsty and malignant were they, were again as mild as lambs, and as cheerful as though they had never heard of a witch tragedy.
The following is a fair sample of “witch-test,” as practised in this region. A Gaboon black trader in the employment of a white supercargo, died suddenly. His family thinking that the death had resulted from witchcraft, two of his sisters were authorised to go to his grave and bring his head away in order that they might test the fact. This testing is effected in the following manner: An iron pot with fresh water is placed on the floor; at one side of it is the head of the dead man, at the other side is seated a fetish doctor. The latter functionary then puts in his mouth a piece of herb, supposed to impart divining powers, chews it, and forms a magic circle by spitting round the pot, the head, and himself. The face of the murderer, after a few incantations, is supposed to be reflected on the water contained in the pot. The fetish man then states he sees the murderer, and orders the head to be again put back to its proper grave, some days being then given to him for deliberation. In the mean time he may fix on a man who is rich enough to pay him a sufficient bribe to be excused of the charge, and if so he confesses that the fetish has failed.
In the central regions of Eastern Africa all that is sacerdotal is embodied in individuals called Mganga or Mfumbo. They swarm throughout the land; are of both sexes: the women, however, generally confine themselves to the medical part of the profession. The profession is hereditary; the eldest or the cleverest son begins his education at an early age, and succeeds to his father’s functions. There is little mystery, says Burton, in the craft, and the magicians of Unyamwezi have not refused to initiate some of the Arabs. The power of the Mganga is great; he is treated as a sultan, whose word is law, and as a giver of life and death. He is addressed by a kingly title, and is permitted to wear the chieftain’s badge, made of the base of a conical shell. He is also known by a number of small greasy and blackened gourds filled with physic and magic hanging round his waist, and by a little more of the usual grime, sanctity and dirt being closely connected in Africa. These men are sent for from village to village, and receive as spiritual fees sheep and goats, cattle and provisions. Their persons, however, are not sacred, and for criminal acts they are punished like other malefactors. The greatest danger to them is an excess of fame. A celebrated magician rarely, if ever, dies a natural death; too much is expected from him, and a severe disappointment leads to consequences more violent than usual.
The African phrase for a man possessed isana’p’hepo, he has a devil.The Mganga is expected to heal the patient by expelling the possession. Like the evil spirit in the days of Saul, the unwelcome visitant must be charmed away by sweet music; the drums cause excitement, the violent exercise expels the ghost. The principal remedies are drumming, dancing, and drinking till the auspicious moment arrives. The ghost is then enticed from the body of the possessed into some inanimate article which he will condescend to inhabit. This, technically called aKetior stool, may be a certain kind of bead, two or more bits of wood bound together by a strip of snake’s skin, a lion’s or a leopard’s claw, and other similar articles worn round the head, the arm, the wrist, or the ankle. Paper is still considered great medicine by the Wasukuma and other tribes, who will barter valuable goods for a little bit: the great desideratum of the charm in fact appears to be its rarity, or the difficulty of obtaining it. Hence also the habit of driving nails into and hanging rags upon trees. The vegetable itself is not worshipped, as some Europeans, who call it the devil’s tree, have supposed; it is merely the place for the laying of ghosts, where by appending the keti most acceptable to the spirit, he will be bound over to keep the peace with man. Several accidents in the town of Zanzibar have confirmed even the higher orders in their lurking superstition. Mr. Peters, an English merchant, annoyed by the slaves, who came in numbers to hammer nails and to hang iron hoops and rags upon a devil’s tree in his court-yard, ordered it to be cut down, to the horror of all the black beholders. Within six months five persons died in that house—Mr. Peters, his two clerks, his cooper, and his ship’s carpenter. Salim bin Raschid, a half caste merchant, well known at Zanzibar, avers, and his companions bear witness to his words, that on one occasion, when travelling northwards from Unyamzembe, the possession occurred to himself. During the night two female slaves, his companions, of whom one was a child, fell without apparent cause into the fits which denote the approach of a spirit. Simultaneously the master became as one intoxicated; a dark mass—material, not spiritual—entered the tent, threw it down, and presently vanished, and Salim bin Raschid was found in a state of stupor, from which he did not recover till the morning. The same merchant circumstantially related, and called witnesses to prove, that a small slave boy, who was produced on the occasion, had been frequently carried off by possession, even when confined in a windowless room, with a heavy door carefully bolted and padlocked. Next morning the victim was not found although the chamber remained closed. A few days afterwards he wasmet in the jungle, wandering absently, like an idiot, and with speech too incoherent to explain what had happened to him. The Arabs of Iman who subscribe readily to transformation, deride these tales; those of African blood, believe them. The transformation belief, still so common in many countries, and anciently an almost universal superstition, is, curious to say, unknown amongst these East African tribes.
The Mganga, Mr. Burton further informs us, is also a soothsayer. He foretels the success, or failure of commercial undertakings, of wars, and of kidnapping; he foresees famine and pestilence, and he suggests the means of averting calamities. He fixes also before the commencement of any serious affair fortunate conjunctions, without which, a good issue cannot be expected. He directs, expedites, or delays the march of a caravan; and in his quality of augur, he considers the flight of birds, and the cries of beasts like his prototype of the same class, in ancient Europe, and in modern Asia.
The principal instrument of the Mganga’s craft is one of the dirty little buyou, or gourds, which he wears in a bunch round his waist, and the following is the usual programme when the oracle is to be consulted. The magician brings his implements in a bag of matting; his demeanour is serious as the occasion, he is carefully greased, and his head is adorned with the diminutive antelope horns, fastened by a thong of leather above the forehead. He sits like a sultan, upon a dwarf stool in front of the querist, and begins by exhorting the highest possible offertory. No pay no predict. The Mganga has many implements of his craft. Some prophesy by the motion of berries swimming in a cup full of water, which is placed upon a low stool, surrounded by four tails of the zebra, or the buffalo, lashed to stakes planted upright in the ground. The Kasanda is a system of folding triangles, not unlike those upon which plaything soldiers are mounted. Held in the right hand, it is thrown out, and the direction of the end points to the safe and auspicious route; this is probably the rudest appliance of prestidigitation. The shero is a bit of wood, about the size of a man’s hand, and not unlike a pair of bellows, with a dwarf handle, a projection like a muzzle, and in a circular centre a little hollow. This is filled with water, and a grain, or fragment of wood placed to float, gives an evil omen if it tends towards the sides, and favourable if it veers towards the handle or the nozzle. The Mganga generally carries about with him, to announce his approach, a kind of rattle. This is a hollow gourd of pine-apple, pierced with variousholes prettily carved, and half filled with maize grains, and pebbles; the handle is a stick passed through its length, and secured by cross-pins.
The Mganga has many minor duties. In elephant hunts he must throw the first spear, and endure the blame if the beast escapes. He marks ivory with spots disposed in lines and other figures, and thus enables it to reach the coast, without let or hindrance. He loads the kirangoze, or guide, with charms to defend him from the malice which is ever directed at a leading man, and sedulously forbids him to allow precedence even to the Mtongi, the commander and proprietor of the caravan. He aids his tribe by magical arts, in wars by catching a bee, reciting over it certain incantations, and loosing it in the direction of the foe, when the insect will instantly summon an army of its fellows and disperse a host however numerous. This belief well illustrates the easy passage of the natural into the supernatural. The land being full of swarms, and man’s body being wholly exposed, many a caravan has been dispersed like chaff before the wind by a bevy of swarming bees. Similarly in South Africa the magician kicks an ant-hill, and starts wasps which put the enemy to flight.
Here is an account of a queer dance witnessed in this land of Mgangas and Mfumbos and fetishes, furnished by the celebrated explorer Bakie:—“A little before noon Captain Vidal took leave of King Passol, in order to prosecute his observations. I remained, but shortly afterwards prepared to leave also. Passol, however, as soon as he perceived my intention, jumped up, and in a good-humoured way detaining me by the arm, exclaimed, ‘No go, no go yet; ‘top a little; bye-bye you look im fetish dance; me mak you too much laugh!’ It appeared that the old man had heard me some time before, on listening to the distant tattoo of a native drum, express a determination to the young midshipman who was with me to go presently to see the dance, with which I had little doubt that it was accompanied. The noise of the drum, almost drowned by the singing, whooping, and clamour of a multitude of the natives, was soon heard approaching. When close to us the procession stopped, and the dancers, all of whom were men, ranged themselves in parallel lines from the front of an adjoining house, and commenced their exhibition. They were specially dressed for the purpose, having suspended from their hips a complete kilt formed of threads of grass-cloth, manufactured by the natives of the interior, and likewise an appendage of the same kind to oneor both arms, just above the elbow. Some had their faces and others their breasts marked with white balls, given to them by the fetish as a cure or safeguard against some disease which they either had or dreaded. The dancing, although not elegant, was free from that wriggling and contortion of body so common on the east coast. It consisted principally in alternately advancing and drawing back the feet and arms, together with a corresponding inclination of the body, and, at stated times, the simultaneous clapping of hands, and a loud sharp ejaculation of ‘Heigh!’ Although I have remarked that it was not elegant, yet it was pleasing, from the regularity with which it was accompanied. There were two men who did not dance in the line among the rest, but shuffled around, and at times threaded the needle among them: one was termed the master fetish, and the other appeared to be his attendant; neither wore the fancy dress, but they were both encircled by the usual wrapper round the loins. The former had on a French glazed hat, held in great request by the natives, and the other, chewing some root of a red colour, carried a small ornamented stick, surmounted at the end like a brush with a bunch of long and handsome feathers. At times one of these men would stop opposite a particular individual among the dancers, and entice him by gestures to leave the line and accompany him in his evolutions, which finally always ended where they began, the pressed man returning to his former place. For some time I had observed the master fetish dancing opposite to the house, and with many gesticulations apparently addressing it in a half threatening half beseeching tone. Old Passol, who was standing close by me, suddenly exclaimed, ‘Now you laugh too much; fetish he come!’
“Sure enough, forthwith rushed from the house among the dancers a most extraordinary figure. It was a man mounted on stilts at least six feet above the ground, of which from practice he had acquired so great a command that he certainly was as nimble in his evolutions as the most active among the dancers. He was sometimes so quick that one stilt could hardly be seen to touch the earth before it was relieved by the other. Even when standing still he often balanced himself so well as not to move either stilt for the space of two or three minutes. He wore a white mask with a large red ball on each cheek, the same on his chin, and his eyebrows and the lower part of his nose were painted with the same colour. Over his forehead was a sort of vizor of a yellow colour, having across it a line of small brass bells; it was armed in front by longalligator’s teeth, and terminated in a confused display of feathers, blades of grass, and the stiff hairs of elephants and other large animals. From the top of his head the skin of a monkey hung pendant behind, having affixed to its tail a wire and a single elephant’s hair with a large sheep’s bell attached to the end. The skin was of a beautiful light green, with the head and neck of a rich vermilion. From his shoulders a fathom of blue dungaree with a striped white border hung down behind; and his body and legs and arms were completely enshrouded in a number of folds of the native grass-cloth, through which he grasped in each hand a quantity of alligator’s teeth, lizard’s skins, fowl’s bones, feathers, and stiff hairs, reminding me strongly of the well-known attributes of Obi, the dread of the slave-owners of Jamaica.
“The fetish never spoke. When standing still he held his arms erect, and shook and nodded his head with a quick repetition; but when advancing he extended them to their full length before him. In the former case he appeared as if pointing to heaven, and demanding its vengeance on the dancers and the numerous bystanders around; and in the latter as one who, finding his exhortations of no avail, was resolved to exterminate, in the might of his gigantic stature and superior strength, the refractory set. The master fetish was his constant attendant, always following, doubling, and facing him, with exhortations uttered at one minute in the most beseeching tone, accompanied hat in hand by obsequious bows, and in the next threatening gestures, and violent, passionate exclamations. The attendant on the master fetish was likewise constantly at hand, with his stick applied to his mouth, and in one or two instances when the masquerader approached, he crouched close under him, and squirted the red juice of the root he was chewing into his face. For upwards of an hour I watched the dance, yet the fetish appeared untired; and I afterwards heard that the same ceremony was performed every day, and sometimes lasted three or four hours. I at first thought that it was merely got up for our amusement, but was soon undeceived; and when, under the first impression, I inquired of a bystander what man it was who performed the character, he answered, with a mixture of pique at the question and astonishment of my ignorance, ‘He no man; no man do same as him; he be de diable! he be de debil!’ Still I was a little sceptic as to their really holding this belief themselves, though they insisted on the fact as they represented it to me; and therefore, after I had received the same answer from all, I used to add in a carelessway to try their sincerity, ‘In what house does he dwell?’ ‘What! fetish! I tell you he de debil; he no catch house; he lib (live) in dat wood,’ pointing to a gloomy-looking grove skirting the back of the village. It was in vain that I attempted to unravel the origin or meaning of this superstition; to all my questions the only answer I could obtain was that such was the fashion of the country—a reason which they always had at hand when puzzled, as they always were when the subject related to any of their numerous superstitions. The fact is, that these practices still remain, though their origin has long since been buried in oblivion.”
As with us, “to astonish the natives” is an almost universal weakness, so is it the sable savage’s delight and ambition to “astonish the white man;” and should he succeed, and the odds are manifestly against him, there are no bounds to his satisfaction. The traveller Laing, while travelling through Timmanee, a country not very far from that over which old King Passol held sway, experienced an instance of this. He was invited by the chief to be present at an entertainment resembling what we recognize as a “bal masqué,” as it embraced music and dancing. The music, however, was of rather a meagre character, consisting of a single instrument made of a calabash and a little resembling a guitar. The player evidently expected applause of the white man, and the white man generously accorded it. The musician then declared that what our countrymen had as yet witnessed of his performance was as nothing compared with what he had yet to show him. Holding up his guitar, he declared that with that potent instrument, the like of which was not to be found throughout the length and breadth of Timmanee, he could cure diseases of every sort, tame wild beasts, and render snakes so docile that they would come out of their holes and dance as long as the music lasted. Mr. Laing begged the enchanter to favour him with a specimen of his skill. The enchanter was quite willing. Did anything ail the traveller? Was any one of his party afflicted with disease? no matter how inveterate or of how long standing, let him step forward, and by a few twangs on the guitar he should be cured. Mr. Laing, however, wishing perhaps to let the juggler off as lightly as possible, pressed for a sight of the dancing snakes, on the distinct understanding that they should be perfectly wild snakes, and such as had never yet been taken in hand by mortal. The musician cheerfully assented, and, to quote the words of the “eye-witness,” “changed the air he had been strumming for one more lively, andimmediately there crept from beneath the stockading that surrounded the space where we were assembled a snake of very large size. From the reptile’s movements, it seemed that the music had only disturbed its repose, and that its only desire was to seek fresh quarters, for without noticing any one it glided rapidly across the yard towards the further side. The musician, however, once more changed the tune, playing a slow measure, and singing to it. The snake at once betrayed considerable uneasiness, and decreased its speed. ‘Stop snake,’ sung the musician, adapting the words to the tune he was playing, ‘you go a deal too fast; stop at my command and show the white man how well you can dance; obey my command at once, oh snake, and give the white man service.’ Snake stopped. ‘Dance, oh snake!’ continued the musician, growing excited, for a white man has come to Falaba to see you! dance, oh snake, for indeed this is a happy day!’ The snake twisted itself about, raised its head, curled, leaped, and performed various feats, of which I should not have thought a snake capable. At the conclusion the musician walked out of the yard followed by the reptile, leaving me in no small degree astonished, and the rest of the company not a little delighted that a black man had been able to excite the surprise of a white one.”
In no part of Africa do we find a greater amount of religious fanaticism than in Old Kalabar. The idea of God entertained by the Kalabarese is confined to their incomprehensibility of natural causes, which they attribute to Abasi-Ibun, the Efick term for Almighty God; hence they believe he is too high and too great to listen to their prayers and petitions. Idem-Efick is the name of the god who is supposed to preside over the affairs of Kalabar, and who is connected mysteriously with the great Abasi, sometimes represented by a tree, and sometimes by a large snake, in which form he is only seen by his high priest or vice-regent on earth—old King Kalabar. Mr. Hutchinson, who resided in an official capacity in this queer heathen country, once enjoyed the honour of an acquaintance with a representative of Abasi-Ibun. “He was a lean, spare, withered old man, about sixty years of age, a little above five feet in height, grey-headed, and toothless. He wore generally a dressing-gown, with a red cap, bands of bamboo rope round his neck, wrists, and ankles, with tassels dangling at the end. In case of any special crime committed, for the punishment of which there is no provision by Egbo law, the question was at once referred to King Kalabar’s judgment, whose decision of life or death was final. King Ergo and all the gentlemen saluted him by a word of greeting peculiar tohimself, ‘Etia,’ meaning in English, you sit there, which, amongst persons of the slave order, must be joined with placing the side of the index fingers in juxtaposition, and bowing humbly, as evidence of obeisance. He offered up a weekly sacrifice to Idem of goats, fowls, and tortoise, usually dressed with a little rum. When famine was impending, or a dearth of ships existed at old Kalabar, the king sent round to the gentlemen of the town an intimation of the necessity of making an offering to the deity, and that Idem-Efick was in want of coppers, which of course must be forwarded through the old king. He had a privilege that every hippopotamus taken, or leopard shot, must be brought to his house, that he may have the lion’s share of the spoil. Since my first visit to Kalabar this old man has died, and has yet had no successor, as the head men and people pretend to believe ‘twelve moons (two years) must pass by before he be dead for thrice.’ Besides this idea of worship, they have a deity named Obu, made of calabash, to which the children are taught to offer up prayer every morning, to keep them from harm. Idem-Nyanga is the name of the tree which they hold as the impersonation of Idem-Efick; and a great reverence is entertained for a shrub, whose pods when pressed by the finger explode like a pistol. In all their meals they perform ablution of the hands before and after it; and in drinking, spill a teaspoonful or so out as a libation to their deity before imbibing. When they kill a fowl or a goat as a sacrifice, they do not forget to remind their god of what ‘fine things’ they do for him, and that ‘they expect a like fine thing in return.’ Ekponyong is the title given to a piece of stick, with a cloth tied round it at the top, and a skull placed above the cloth, which is kept in many of their yards as a sort of guardian spirit. In nearly all their courts there is a ju-ju tree growing in the centre, with a parasitic plant attached to it, and an enclosure of from two to four feet in circumference at the bottom of the stem, within which skulls are always placed, and calabashes of blood at times of sacrifice. At many of the gentlemen’s thresholds a human skull is fastened in the ground, whose white glistening crown is trodden upon by every one who enters.
“A strange biennial custom exists at old Kalabar, that of purifying the town from all devils and evil spirits, who, in the opinion of the authorities, have during the past two years taken possession of it. They call it judok. And a similar ceremony is performed annually on the gold coast. At a certain time a number of figures, styled Nabikems, are fabricated and fixed indiscriminately through the town. These figures are made ofsticks and bamboo matting, being moulded into different shapes. Some of them have an attempt at body, with legs and arms to resemble the human form. Imaginative artists sometimes furnish these specimens with an old straw hat, a pipe in the mouth, and a stick fastened to the end of the arm, as if they were prepared to undertake a journey. Many of the figures are supposed to resemble four-footed animals, some crocodiles, and others birds. The evil spirits are expected, after three weeks or a month, to take up their residence in them, showing, to my thinking, a very great want of taste on the part of the spirit vagrant. When the night arrives for their general expulsion, one would imagine the whole town had gone mad. The population feast and drink, and sally out in parties, beating at empty covers, as if they contained tangible objects to hunt, and hallooing with all their might and main. Shots are fired, the Nabikems are torn up with violence, set in flames, and thrown into the river. The orgies continue until daylight dawns, and the town is considered clear of evil influence for two years more. Strange inconsistency with ideas of the provision necessary to be made for the dead in their passage to another world. But heathenism is full of these follies, and few of them can be more absurd than their belief that if a man is killed by a crocodile or a leopard, he is supposed to have been the victim of some malicious enemy, who, at his death, turned himself into either of these animals, to have vengeance on the person that has just been devoured. Any man who kills a monkey or a crocodile is supposed to be turned into one or the other when he dies himself. On my endeavouring to convince two very intelligent traders of Duketown of the folly of this, and of my belief that men had no more power to turn themselves into beasts than they had to make rain fall or grass grow, I was met with the usual cool reply to all a European’s arguments for civilization, ‘It be Kalabar fash(ion), and white men no saby any ting about it.’ The same answer, ‘white men no saby any ting about it,’ was given to me by our Yoruba interpreter when up the Tshadda, on my doubting two supposed facts, which he thus recorded to me. The first was, that the Houessa people believe in the existence of the unicorn, but his precise location cannot be pointed out. He is accredited to be the champion of the unprotected goat and sheep from the ravages of the leopard; that when he meets a leopard he enters amicably into conversation with him, descants upon his cruelty, and winds up, like a true member of the humane society, by depriving the leopard of his claws. On my asking if a clawless leopard had ever been discovered,or if the unicorn had proposed any other species of food as a substitute, observing me smile with incredulity, he gave me an answer similar to that of the Kalabar men, in the instance mentioned. The second, to the effect that a chameleon always went along at the same pace, not quickening his steps for rain or wind, but going steadily in all phases of temperature, changing his hue in compliment to everything he met, turning black for black men, white for white, blue, red, or green, for any cloth or flowers, or vegetables that fall in his way; and the only reason he gives for it when questioned on the subject is, that his father did the same before him, and he does not think it right to deviate from the old path, because ‘same ting do for my fader, same ting do for me.’”
Quite by accident it happens that this answer of the Yoruba man to Mr. Hutchinson’s arguments forms the concluding line of the many examples of Savage Rites and Superstitions quoted. It is, however, singularly apropos. In this single line is epitomised the guiding principle of the savage’s existence—“Same ting do for my fader, same ting do for me.” This it is that fetters and tethers him. He is born to it, lives by it, and he dies by it.