Chapter XVIII

Witch-doctors of Swaziland--How they brought a famine--L'Tunga's school of witch-doctoring--The "Poison Test" to settle ownership--The professional witch-doctor's equipment--L'Tunga decides a murder case--Some genuine cures.

Dagga weed was Sugden's most interesting discovery up to that time and it whetted his appetite. I pointed out to him that the witch-doctors' craft would be a good thing to investigate and he went after this like a bloodhound on a hot scent. We all became interested, and I soon found myself whiling away the tedium of waiting for the coronation by running down evidence of the art of "witch-doctoring."

What we discovered made me realize the wisdom of the government, which had recently passed strict laws against the witch-doctors. For a time L'Tunga regarded our curiosity as a great impertinence and did everything possible to prevent our getting more information than was readily available. Finally, one night, he grew confidential and told us why the government had set its foot down on his brothers of the craft. He did this chiefly because Dr. Sugden and I had shown him that we were "white witch-doctors" and thus had established a sort of fraternity among fellow practitioners.

"The bad witch-doctors caused all the trouble," he said, "and it was their own fault that the government made laws against them. None of the doctors in my 'lodge' were guilty of these offenses, but we have to suffer with the rest. Like you white doctors, I cure the sick and drive out evil spirits."

I had not claimed to drive out spirits, but I am not sure that Sugden had not made such a statement. He always did things in a thorough manner and L'Tunga might have misunderstood him when he told him what healers we were.

"The trouble began a little while ago," the witch-doctor went on, "when a number of strange doctors came among us. They were from the gold country to the west and they had many queer tales to tell. They told our people that they were fools to work for the white men and that they ought to rise up and drive them out of the country.

"I do not know where they received their learning, but they said that our people were as good as the white men and told them that they were fools to let white men govern them. Our people listened and became much excited. They talked of making war and there was much unrest. The warriors began to gather, and the Boers and other white men sent messengers and spies to find out what was going on.

"However, these strange witch-doctors talked too much and made too many promises. Soon they began to tell our people that they need not grow any more corn nor breed any more cattle. They promised that there would be a great rain of corn and that millions of cows would come into the country for any one who wanted them. The people were convinced and sat about in idleness, waiting for the free food. The end of this was that there was much hunger in our land and many of the people starved to death.

"I went about when these strange witch-doctors told these lies and warned our people that starvation would come. But they scoffed at me and would not even bow to my most sacred charms. They said I belonged to the old order and that the new witch-doctors were the only ones worth following. For some time--too long a time--I had no honor and it was not until starvation came that the people again listened to me.

"Then the government learned of all these things and sent food to the people, so that not so many died. Some of the strange witch-doctors were caught and killed, but most of them escaped.

"Making starvation was not the only crime they did. So foolish were the people that they believed in them and for a time would do anything they said. Some of the doctors told them to commit murders and sold them charms that were to prevent them from getting caught. A number of killings took place and many women were stolen. When the murderers were caught and brought to court, they told how the doctors had advised them to kill and even named the number of cows they had paid for the charms that were supposed to protect them. When the government heard of this they became very angry and passed laws against witch-doctors."

L'Tunga was full of this invasion of Swaziland by these strange witch-doctors and told us stories about it for several hours. One was as amusing as it was illuminating. It seemed that two young indunas had a difference of opinion over a woman. They both tried to buy her and bid against each other, so that the successful one had to pay three or four times her market value. This hurt the purchaser's feelings, while the loser was angry because he had been outbid. The result was that the latter went to one of the witch-doctors and bought a charm to protect him while he unostentatiously murdered his rival. At about the same time the other induna bought a charm from another of these witch-doctors and started out to slay his enemy. Before they could meet the two witch-doctors compared notes and decided it would be a bad thing for them if there was a killing. The doctor whose charm proved valueless would lose prestige in the villages he was plundering. So they agreed to prevent bloodshed, and did so by proving that the woman in question was bewitched and thus only fit to serve them! One of them took her, and the indunas decided to forget their differences. However, when the crash came, after the starvation episode, they hunted up these witch-doctors and promptly killed them.

"I have never heard what became of the woman," concluded L'Tunga, "but I fear she is no longer in danger of being bewitched."

Before leaving us that night L'Tunga agreed to tell us everything about his profession--with reservations, I suspected. He invited us to visit his school where he trained the young witch-doctors, and we decided to do so next day. His invitation, he explained, included only Sugden and myself, as he knew that none of the rest of my party were "white witch-doctors." He was extending to us a sort of "professional courtesy," as it were.

We learned more about witch-doctoring at the school in a short hour than we had during all the weeks we had been in its proximity. The school was in a small kraal set apart from the others, and we found about a score of would-be "doctors" in attendance. We must have arrived at a slack moment, for they were all smoking dagga weed and enjoying it to the full. L'Tunga, nevertheless, showed us all over the place and painstakingly explained everything of interest. One small hut, however, was forbidden to us. He explained that it was the sanctuary where the charms were kept, and that if white men entered it, none of the charms would ever be of any use. "We'd put a curse on 'em!" Sugden tersely put it.

It was at the end of this tour of inspection that we received a practical demonstration of how a regular witch-doctor works. We were beginning to examine L'Tunga's professional equipment when one of the neophytes approached and with the utmost respect informed him that he was wanted. Of course we went along, and found quite a gathering at the gate of the kraal. In the center were two large and indignant warriors. They were all chattering away at a great rate, but all talk ceased immediately when L'Tunga stepped out of the gate. He was absolute master of the situation, and the deference with which these common people treated him showed that they knew it.

"Why do you disturb L'Tunga and his white friends?" he demanded. "Do you not know that these are white witch-doctors of great magic and are too great to even look on such lowly people as you?"

Properly rebuked, the crowd dropped its eyes, and then L'Tunga quickly found out what was wanted. It seemed that the two warriors each claimed to own a certain cow. Instead of fighting over its possession, they had decided to ask L'Tunga to find the rightful owner by means of the "Poison Test." I had often heard rumors of this test, but had never seen it performed. L'Tunga talked with them a little while and arranged that the loser was to pay him one cow for his services in determining the ownership of the animal. After this was decided, each of the warriors sent one of his people to get a cow. While these cows were being brought L'Tunga prepared himself for the test.

We went to his hut and he allowed us to squat nearby and watch him dress. Two of the would-be witch-doctors acted as valets for him, and when he had finished he was certainly a striking and awesome figure. First, he was plentifully smeared on the forehead, face, and body with a sort of red-and-white clay pigment. With his black skin, this gave him a weird appearance. When sufficiently painted, he put on a magnificent headdress consisting chiefly of porcupine quills some fourteen inches long. This headdress is known as the "ekufue" and is only worn by witch-doctors who are masters of the craft. The white pigment is known as "ocikela," while the red is called "onongo." Both have other uses which we were soon to learn.

To complete his costume L'Tunga wound a wide strip of antelope skin about his middle. This contains a large pouch and is known as the "uya." In it are carried a number of medicines and some charms. When fully dressed for his work our friend looked every inch a leader of his profession.

On our return to the kraal gate we found the two cows waiting. L'Tunga looked them over and said they would do, although he was far from enthusiastic. Sugden and I thought they were fine beasts, but it would not have done for the witch-doctor to have admitted this.

Then came the test. The warriors were told to stand together in front of L'Tunga, who knelt on several small but fine skins which his assistants had placed on the ground. When all were in place an assistant handed L'Tunga a small hollow gourd, or "okapo," partly filled with water. In this he mixed several drugs the nature of which we learned later. First came a form of "ombambu," which is said to be so deadly that birds die when they light on the limbs of the tree from which it is obtained. Then came another drug of the same nature, said to be obtained from the roots of the tree. Lastly L'Tunga dumped "onsunga"--a mixture of powdered herbs the ingredients of which we were never able to ascertain--into the gourd. Then he stirred the mess with the foot of an antelope. While he stirred it he chanted in a low voice.

During all this performance the crowd remained absolutely silent, as were we. The only noise was the lowing of one of the cows who seemed to disapprove of the proceedings.

When the "hellish brew," as Sugden called it afterward, was thoroughly mixed, L'Tunga handed it to one of the warriors and told him to drink it. Without hesitation the man did so, and it seemed to me he took a good half of the mixture. L'Tunga then retrieved the gourd and passed it to the other warrior, who drank the remainder.

Next came the climax of the test. Both warriors appeared to grow violently ill. L'Tunga chanted in a louder tone, while the crowd pressed close. Sugden and I did not know what was going to happen and watched anxiously. The warriors swayed back and forth and there was an air of tense expectation that became constantly more acute. Suddenly Sugden caught my arm.

"Look, look! He's going to vomit!" he said, pointing at one of the warriors. He was right. A second later the man retched and vomited. As he did so, the crowd cried out so loudly that I caught the words, "He is the loser! It is not his cow!"

L'Tunga immediately stepped to the man and smeared him with red pigment, placing it mainly on his forehead and arms. Next he turned quickly to the other and smeared him in similar manner with the white pigment. Then with all haste L'Tunga mixed "asangu" and gave some to each man. This, we learned later, was a powerful emetic and it certainly acted without delay.

When the warriors had calmed down they were rather weak and weary. L'Tunga directed an assistant to take the cow of the man who became sick, and we thus understood that he had lost in the "Poison Test." While L'Tunga was divesting himself of his ceremonial trappings he explained to us that there was no doubt that this man was wrong about the ownership of the cow over which the dispute began--if he had owned the animal, he would not have vomited!

"This is no country for a man with a weak stomach," Sugden remarked to me. "It looks as if a strong constitution counts even more here than in the U. S. A."

L'Tunga also explained that both warriors would have died forthwith, had he not given them the emetic. The mixture he had compounded caused sure death after a short time. He told us that he considered the cow he had received in payment not much of an animal and adopted the pose that his talents had been poorly remunerated.

By sympathizing with him in these complaints we made L'Tunga feel that there was a further professional bond between us, and he became even more willing to assist us in our study of witch-doctoring. When he had removed his paint and other marks of his profession, he offered to show us the stock-in-trade of a real witch-doctor.

"We must use many wonderful and powerful charms in our work among the poor and ignorant people," he said. "Many of them have come down to us from the old witch-doctors who knew much more than I do, and I know more than any other in the whole of South Africa. My father was a witch-doctor, and his father was one, too. He was the head witch-doctor for King Ama-Swazi, and his word was law with the king as well as the people. In his day there was much honor for a real witch-doctor and he had many wives. He was very, very rich. He was also very powerful, so that the king was glad to have him with him when he made war and governed his people."

I had already heard tales of his respected ancestor, but I regret to say that few of these reflected credit on him. It seems that Ama-Swazi allowed him the right to inflict the death penalty, and it was his habit to remove any induna whose wives he coveted or who might possess anything else he could use. In addition to these civic activities, this old devil added a number of new charms to the outfit carried by a professional witch-doctor and L'Tunga was proud of the fact that he had some of the original ones his ancestor had invented.

One of the most interesting things that L'Tunga showed us was his charm-case, or "uhamba," which all properly accredited witch-doctors carry. This corresponds to the familiar little black bag carried by white physicians when making their calls. The "uhamba" he used was a tightly woven basket, roughly one foot broad, two feet long, and perhaps ten inches high. In this was a queer collection of charms. The chief thing, however, was the "ongombo", or small gourd used in divination. This was very sacred and L'Tunga would not allow us to touch it. In it were the most potent charms, and he exhibited these to us one by one.

There were a few rough images of wood, very crudely made but yet unmistakably representing human beings. They were both male and female, and were used to symbolize persons who were doing business with the witch-doctor. Then there was a lion's tooth, a horn of a goat, some chicken-bones, a pig's foot, and the hoof of an ox. More interesting than these were a chicken's head dried with the mouth open, which was used to symbolize a gossip, and the dried nose of a hyena, which L'Tunga used when he "smelled out" crime. There were a number of other odds and ends, but they had no special significance. All these charms played a part in various rituals, and L'Tunga told us that none of the would-be witch-doctors in his school were allowed to practice until they were able to use each and every one correctly.

This shows the details of its construction, and also warriors and children]

He is holding the latest addition to his family. He is a very influential man and is the personal doctor to the queen and the prince. He has thirteen wives and sixty children]

These are being taught the secrets of their profession, one of them being in the act of smoking a Swazi pipe]

Next he showed us a number of other charms of a different character. One of these was the "ombinga," which was the horn of an ox, full of medicines, herbs, and drugs. This was a very valuable and potent charm, and only kings and great indunas were allowed to possess it. It was supposed to prevent lightning or disease from striking the owner, and its wonderful power also extended to his family and possessions. In addition, it was supposed to prevent wild animals from attacking those under its protection.

"That is some charm, believe me," Sugden said, when L'Tunga had reverently explained it. "It is a combined lightning-rod and accident policy, and must cost a lot."

L'Tunga assured us that the "ombinga" cost many cows, and this was the reason why only kings and chiefs could afford to own it. Following this, he showed us a rain wand, but refrained from demonstrating its power. This he called an "ocifungo." It was made of the tail of an ox, with two small deer horns inserted in the end. There were some magic oils in the tail, also, and he explained that he could drive rain away by blowing the little horns and waving the tail at the rain. Sugden asked him in all solemnness if the wand worked, and L'Tunga assured him that it was infallible, provided the right payment had been made. The payment, it seems, consisted of a number of cows, and young women would not be refused. Sugden remarked that we ought to get one of these rain-dispellers and have it around all the time so that we would not have any further trouble with wet weather.

Last of all, L'Tunga unwrapped a bundle of skins and produced a number of neck-charms, known in the singular as an "umbanda." These were for the use of any one willing to buy them, and were most potent as a protection against injury in battle. The "umbanda" consists of two bottle-shaped objects about four inches long and is made of woven grass-string. From the end of each there protrudes a tuft of feathers about two or three inches long, and each one contains magic medicines. The Swazi warriors wear the "umbanda" around the neck and believe that they stand a poor chance in battle unless they do so. However, I had seen natives wearing them at times when there was no war, and this prompted me to ask L'Tunga about it.

"There is always a reason, Mzaan Bakoor," he said. "When a warrior puts on his 'umbanda,' he fears that he may meet the assegai of an enemy. Then again, he may be going to destroy an enemy and wishes to be protected."

Further development of his explanation showed that when a Swazi appeared wearing his "umbanda," it was generally understood that he was off to a killing. They always go armed, so that weapons mean nothing, but when they put on this charm there is bloody work afoot.

After inspecting L'Tunga's equipment we strolled over to the school, where a class was in session. The details of this we missed, however, as the instruction halted as soon as we came in sight. L'Tunga talked for a moment with the "professor" and then told us that the fact that we were white men would prevent us from seeing the novices receive their instruction.

"But it would not be worth your time to see these young men at work," he added to console us. "They are only learning certain rituals. First the instructor explains the charm to be used, and then he shows them how it is done. They try to do as he does, and when they have learned he explains another charm."

Sugden and I were sorry not to see this class at work. It would have been entertaining to watch them, and I wondered how they would have compared with my classes in the Harvard Medical School. Of one thing I felt certain--these savages were just as much in earnest as any of us back there in Cambridge.

It appears to take a long time to make a bona-fide witch-doctor. The course given in L'Tunga's school is most thorough--at least, that is what he said--and no candidate receives his "uhamba" until he knows all the tricks of the trade. It astonished us to find this intelligent savage taking his profession so seriously; it all seemed such frightful nonsense to us. Still, the thought came to me that L'Tunga might think the same about some of our most sacred medical practices. When we left him he promised that he would send for us the next time he was to work.

Three days later he did so. One of his students came to tell us that his chief was about to make a divination and that we could witness it if we wished. Naturally, we accepted. We had been eager to see a divination, which we understood to be a ceremony where the witch-doctor really went through his paces.

L'Tunga was waiting for us in his hut. He was cordial, but very solemn.

"This is a serious case," he said. "I am about to ask the spirits to decide the life or death of an induna. He is accused of murdering another induna, and there is no way of proving his guilt or innocence except through the spirits who work for me. To-day you shall see the most important work I do!"

We were properly impressed. Sugden, in fact, was so interested that he forgot to make his usual caustic comment. It struck me as the most barbaric thing we had yet encountered that this witch-doctor with his foolish bag of tricks should be called upon to decide the fate of a fellow-being.

L'Tunga dressed himself as before, the only difference being that he put on his paint and ornaments with more care. When he was dressed he called out, and several of the young witch-doctors entered. These he loaded with various queer things the nature of which developed at the ceremony. When we were all ready, our party solemnly marched out to the entrance of the kraal.

There we found a large crowd of people, the great majority being warriors and indunas. Standing apart from the rest, facing the gate, was the induna whose fate was to be decided. He was a tall, heavy-set man of middle age, and his face was that of a killer. He looked as if he might be accused of a dozen murders, instead of only one.

"If looks count for anything, that gentleman ought to be shot on sight!" was Sugden's remark.

L'Tunga halted just outside the entrance of the kraal, and an old witch-doctor stepped out of the crowd and addressed him.

"O L'Tunga, greatest of witch-doctors," he began, "you are called upon to decide the guilt or innocence of Makeza, this induna, the owner of many cows and women. Three days ago an induna was found dead with many wounds. Makeza was his enemy, and the people of their village say that Makeza killed him in the night. Oktela was his name, and now Makeza has taken his wives and there is much outcry in the village. Makeza says that he knows nothing about Oktela's death, but you, L'Tunga the Great, can decide!"

While he stated the case against Makeza the induna Stood gazing defiantly at L'Tunga, and I had a feeling that he was not helping his case.

"My spirits will decide whether Makeza is guilty or not!" L'Tunga announced in a loud voice.

The witch-doctor waited while the little skins were placed and then knelt down facing Makeza, who also knelt at a sign from L'Tunga. Next the assistants placed two roughly carved wooden figures, about a foot high, in front of the witch-doctor. These are known as "ovitakas" and are supposed to represent the spirits that are to be invoked for the divination. It was plain to see that the figures were male and female. L'Tunga then put on a necklace which was handed him by an assistant. This seemed to be made of teeth of various wild animals, those of the lion being most noticeable. He next picked up a gourd and handed it to Makeza, who immediately commenced to shake it. It was full of seeds of some kind and made a loud rattle. L'Tunga produced a similar gourd and also started to shake it.

This rattling was really the beginning of the ceremony. After a short time L'Tunga commenced blowing on a whistle, which gave a loud shrill sound. It was a horn of a small deer set in the end of an ox-tail which was wrapped with broad bands of red, black, and white beads. The whistle was to call the spirits and we noted that the people seemed to get much excited when they heard it. After a few moments L'Tunga began to vary the whistling with a sort of chant in a minor key. The sound of his voice struck terror into the audience, and I could see that they were terribly afraid. Makeza showed his fear by rattling his gourd with what almost amounted to frenzy.

The whistling, rattling, and chanting went on and on, all the time rising in a crescendo. The excitement of the crowd became more and more intense, until it seemed to me that something must happen soon. L'Tunga appeared to be quite mad, and Makeza shook his gourd as though his life depended on the noise he made.

At the exact moment when the situation became unbearable, and when I felt as though I would go mad also, L'Tunga stopped his noise. A second later there was silence, broken only by the deep breaths of the audience. The sudden silence came with such a shock that it quite unnerved one.

Presently L'Tunga raised his empty hands above his head and slowly brought them down over his "uhamba," which lay on the ground in front of him. He held his position for a moment, Makeza's eyes riveted on him. Then L'Tunga slowly waved his hands back and forth, and I could see Makeza following their every movement.

This must have lasted for a few moments only, but it seemed an age. Suddenly the hands stopped, remained still for the space of a breath, and then swooped down on the "uhamba." With one motion L'Tunga picked up the charm-case and shook it above his head. Three shakes, and he held it motionless!

Slowly, very slowly, he brought it down and laid it on the ground. Makeza watched, his eyes bright and big with dread. L'Tunga looked at him fixedly for a brief space, and then slowly lifted the top of the "uhamba" and glanced into it.

"Guilty! Guilty!" he shouted in a ringing voice. "The red horn stands! The spirits have decided! Makeza is guilty!"

The induna seemed stunned for a second, and for about the same space the crowd remained quiet. Then everything broke loose at once. Excited cries rose from the warriors; Makeza sprang to his feet; L'Tunga jumped up and back to where we stood. The condemned man looked wildly about and then, snatching up his knob-kerrie, assegais, and shield, made a wild dash to escape.

It was all over much more quickly than it can be told. The thud of knob-kerrie on shield, the flash of steel, and Makeza lay there in the bright sun, a bleeding, mangled thing!

L'Tunga was the least excited of all of us; he seemed to take the killing as a matter of course.

"Makeza had killed," he said later, when we returned to his hut, "and his life was forfeit. He knew that he would have to die, so he attempted to escape. I understand that he would have been joined by a number of warriors if he had been able to get into the hills."

Sugden and I were curious to know about the "red horn," and L'Tunga removed the top of his "uhamba" and showed it to us. The horn was a short piece of one from an antelope, with the top painted red. In the basket, also, was a small figure of about the same size as the horn, on the head of which was a cowry shell.

"If the spirits had decided that Makeza was innocent," L'Tunga explained, "the figure would have been standing when I took the top off the 'uhamba.' But they knew that he was guilty, so the red horn stood at their command."

This seemed a poor way to determine a case of life or death, but Makeza was the only one who had any objections. It was the custom, and thus was quite all right in the eyes of Swaziland. On theory, Makeza had an even chance, which is a good deal more than he would have had before any civilized jury. His appearance alone would have convicted him. I had about convinced myself that the induna had received a fair deal, when Sugden insisted that the bottom of the little image of innocence was round, so that it could not stand.

"Makeza never had a chance!" he exclaimed. "The cards were stacked against him. The poor devil!" Immediately Sugden became sorry for the induna, although he agreed with me that he could not have been anything but a murderer.

Before we returned to camp L'Tunga explained some of the work an accredited witch-doctor is supposed to be able to perform. He said he could do all the things he talked about. According to him, a real witch-doctor can recover stolen goods; he can read the past and future; he can cast out spells and provide charms against them, and can "smell out" the witches that cause other than violent deaths. The genuine witch-doctor can cause the corn to grow; he can make or stop rain and can cause the cows to give milk when they have been bewitched and their milk dries up too soon. This last is accomplished by boiling some of the affected cow's milk and whipping the animal severely with a sjambok while the milk boils.

Among the hocus-pocus and humbuggery of the witch-doctor's trade we found several genuine "cures" which they used to alleviate suffering among their people. I do not know the nature of these "cures," but they are all drugs. As an emetic, and a most efficient one, L'Tunga gives his patient "asangu"; for rheumatism he prescribes "amatoli" and sometimes "ovihata," and the distress of a mother in labor is greatly lessened by giving her "oluvanga" to chew. This is a leaf, while the rheumatism "cures" are both powders, as is the emetic.

One stock remedy of which L'Tunga was very proud greatly amused us both, but we concealed our amusement lest he think we were making fun of him. This was "ekulo," a love medicine which he said was most potent.

"When a wife wishes to be preferred above all other wives of an induna," he explained, in telling of its use, "she comes to me and I give her 'ekulo.' This she mixes with the food of her husband, and from that time on he cannot resist her and she becomes his favorite wife and is mistress of all the others."

L'Tunga explained other uses of "ekulo," but these are "too intimate," as Sugden said, to be set forth here.

After our investigation of witch-doctoring as it is practiced in Swaziland, Sugden and I came to the conclusion that the British knew what they were doing when they placed a ban on it. Even L'Tunga, kindly soul that he was, ought to be suppressed.