Chapter III: Section C: The Bonu-gan nun Kpon ’gbe dié,1 or Third Day of the King’s Customs

At half-past 3 P.M., on the last day of 1863, we hammocked to our former place before the south-eastern or Komasi Gate, and found the _séance_ much as it was before. On this occasion, however, besides the standing dish of three royal skulls, there were on the King’s proper left, eleven “neptunes,” or broad shallow brass pans of Abeokutan crania, nine or ten to each.[2] A dozen men were capering before royalty; when they had ceased, knelt, and shovelled, eight others performed the “Ganchya” dance, in which the hands are washed in imperceptible water, or rubbed like a draper’s assistant.

Within the bamboos, women passed before the throne from left to right, bowed to Gezo’s ghost, and after prostrating to the King, presented arms. First came a procession of eighteen Tansi-no, or fetish women, who have charge of the last monarch’s grave,[3]—slow and solemn old gipsies, in gold-trimmed broad-brim felts or white night-caps. They were preceded by bundles of matting, eight large stools, calabashes, pipes, baskets of water, grog, and meat, with segments of gourd, above and below, tobacco bags, and similar commissariat articles; and they were followed by a band of horns and rattles. Eight stools, or chiefs with their attendant “Amazons,” and young female slaves of the palace, made obeisance, whilst armed women sang dirges in the minor key, clapped hands, and presented arms. Followed a dance of six Amazons to a very weak band.

Presently two messenger-women came from the right end of the square, ushering twenty-one umbrellas—of which two were coloured, and the rest white—divided into three parties, accompanied by the usual band and canteen. The chief was the she-Min-gan, whose back was all pigtails depending from the score of coral and metal necklaces with which she had been decorated. Joined by the Adanejan’s “mother,” a middle-aged officeress, stout as the most “bulbous” Englishwoman, and round in every part where curves should be, she performed a knife dance. The pair then took muskets and skirmished, whilst the others formed up and pranced before the King. Finally, the Min-ganess disposed herself opposite the throne, upon the knobs of two war sticks stuck in the ground—it was Britannia sitting as she does in pence on the edge of her shield.

The King then rose and walked forward to throw cowries, the local money, amongst his subjects. All removed their ornaments and girt their loins; it is a point of honour to fight for the royal bakhshish, and nob and snob join in the melée. No notice is taken if a man be killed or maimed in the affair; he has fallen honourably fighting for his sovereign. Some lose eyes and noses; the Dahomans gouge like Lancashire “purrers” or Sœstudalian peasants, bite like hyenas—I have seen a hand through which teeth met—and scratch like fisherwomen or cat-o’-mountains. We speedily withdrew our chairs. The King, habited in a toga of tender green, came forward to the bamboos, and stood as _agonistarch_ under his umbrellas and parasol, which were upheld by nine women and by two very small girls. He took from baskets, which were brought up in turn to him, heads of strung cowries, and tossed them high up to the crowd, who fought for them as if they were gold. The bundles were torn to pieces in a moment, so were the strings, and at times there was a scramble, a bite, and a scream about a single shell.[4]

The King, surrounded by his guard, then perambulated the square by west and south, still throwing strings of cowries; from where we stood, the dust-blurred mass of fighting negrohood looked like the dæmons of some mediæval picture, or the dreams of Father Pinamonti. When royalty had returned to the bamboo, we were summoned to “fight for cowries,” and not being in uniform we scrambled like school-boys, omitting however the Dahoman adjuncts. When our attendants and the Moslem deputation had received their share, we regained our old places. The palace gate was thrown open, and through it we saw the women all hustling one another as the men had done.

The chief of the hunchbacks,[5] Lizi-dogo-bo-je’gbwo-to-men,[6] wielding, with arms like Rob Roy’s, a circinal-edged hide-whip, and assisted by his attendants, soon cut a way through the crowd. After “Lizzy’s” performance appeared a body of fetishers in three parties, headed by Boro and Zenhwe, their captains. The first seven carried on their heads each an ugly “wee wudden goddity,” supposed to walk by itself after nightfall. These “Bo” are dwarfish attempts at humanity, male and female—the sexes made very distinct—lamp black and red, with white caps and pagnes.[7] The second party, consisting of ten men, bore in their hands as many iron fetish sticks, from 4 feet to 6 feet long, capped mostly with a barrel cone like a modern Moslem cresset, apex downwards, and topped with rude iron imitations of land tortoises. The third party, also ten in number, was the band.

Having danced with much effusion and paraded their godlings, the fetishers defiled to the right and vanished from the crowd. The King then walked up to the victim shed, and paced down its length within the railing. To the score of wretches there sitting pilloried he threw with two hands as many heads of cowries, and these were placed by the attendants upon the caps of the recipients. He conversed freely with several of them. The others, though I could see no sign, were probably gagged, for the reason before stated. He then came up and snapped fingers with me, when a hint was given that at my intercession several victims would be pardoned. This also is a Dahoman formula. I pleaded for them, saying that mercy is the great prerogative of kings, when nearly half of them were brought up before Gelele, were untied, and were placed by their keepers on all fours to hear the royal clemency.

An “Ago!” and a ting! tang! caused a deep hush, and the Min-gan, whose beard and hair were brick-red with dust, uttered a long, dreary, drowsy speech, much reminding me of a certain “Great Eltchi.” The substance was, that the chief of a tributary town, Izatakuno, having sent instead of cowries palm kernels to the King, he, the Min-gan, ashamed to report such an outrage, had captured the prisoners exposed at the palace shed. The high officer again powdered his hair and reclined on one arm, whilst the King informed him that the proceeding was duly approved of, and that the pardoned rebels must be speedily removed from his sight. His right royal speech was followed by an uproar of cymbals, the usual two decanters of rum were sent to us, and thus we got “pass,” or permission to leave “the presence.”

That night was our “watch night,” which the hammock men kept for us with potations pottle deep of trade spirits.